#Pete Maverick Mitchell x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justabigassnerd · 10 months

Text

Caught

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader, Bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 1,626

Warnings - swearing, mostly fluff

Summary - you and Bradley had kept your relationship a secret... but what happens when Goose and Maverick find out?

A/N - it be time for another request y'all! I'm so sorry with how long it's taking me to get through these but I really am trying y'all I swear. hopefully, I'll get into a groove and be able to pump more fics out for y'all. anyways I won't ramble, as per y'all please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

Growing up with Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell as your father, you’d been taught from an early age that you could tell your dad anything. He never let anything you wanted to tell him about feel unimportant. If you babbled to him after preschool about how Sarah had pushed over Tom in the playground, he was giving you his full attention and voicing his own thoughts on the matter. As you got older, you knew you could talk to your dad about any problem that would plague your mind. If someone was bothering you, Maverick would be there to listen and offer advice if you wanted it. He always made an effort to be there for you.

However, despite the trust you had in your dad. There was one thing he didn’t know about you.

Maverick was ignorant of one thing that was going on in your life and that was your relationship with his RIO’s son, Bradley Bradshaw. You’d been raised alongside Bradley, nothing more than half a year between the two of you and while Goose had constantly joked, much to Maverick’s annoyance, that you and Bradley would get together, he never thought it would actually happen. Not until the two of you moved out at least.

You and Bradley were quiet about your relationship, holding hands underneath the dinner table when over at each other’s houses and sneaking kisses when your parents were in another room. On the weekends, when Goose, Carole, and Maverick would go out for most of the day, you would either spend time at Bradley’s house or vice versa, or you would go out on little dates to places you knew neither your parents nor any of your dad’s team frequented, so you’d remain undisturbed. For the first few months of your relationship, this arrangement worked smoothly, and no one was clued into your relationship with Bradley. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed to share your relationship, it was more worry about how both your dad and Goose would react to the news. Carole ended up finding out about your relationship a week before your dad and Goose did, Bradley wanted some motherly advice on relationships, and he had asked beforehand if you were okay with Carole knowing which you were fine with, with the condition she kept it quiet until you and Bradley found the best moment to tell Goose and Maverick.

The moment that your dad and Goose found out came sooner than you and Bradley would’ve liked. One weekend, your dad and Bradley’s parents had agreed to meet up at the beach with Iceman, Slider, and their significant others while you and Bradley had opted to stay behind under the guise of wanting to study together and do school work. After the adults left the house, you and Bradley waited for a minute before shoving your books aside and moving to the sofa. You immediately curled into Bradley’s side as he switched on the television, looking up at him softly as he moved his gaze to look down at you.

“You okay, baby?” He asks softly, his gentle smile never leaving his face as you nod.

“I’m more than okay. I’m perfect.” You reply in a soft whisper, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“You missed.” Bradley says teasingly, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss which you reciprocate immediately, shuffling in his embrace to kiss him easier as you wind your arms around the back of his neck and Bradley’s hands rested on your hips. However, because you were engrossed in each other’s presence with the tv blaring in the background, you both failed to hear the jangling of keys in the lock and your dad entering the house.

“What the fuck is going on here!?” The shocked and raised voice of your father makes you and Bradley jump away from each other, worry crossing both of your features.

“Dad, what are you doing home? You literally just left.” You say with a nervous chuckle, attempting to diffuse the obvious tension that was filling the room.

“I forgot my wallet and it’s a good thing I did. Now answer my question, what is going on?” Maverick asks, and the moment you open your mouth to try and find a response he holds his hand up to stop you talking.

“Actually, you can explain it to Goose and Carole as well.” He then says, crossing back to the front door and throwing it open to see his RIO and Carole in Goose’s Bronco.

“Goose, get your ass in here! Carole, you too. Looks like a Bradshaw-Mitchell meeting is needed.” Maverick calls out to his friends and waits for them to come into the house, closing the door behind them and ushering them into the living room while you and Bradley remained frozen in place like a deer in headlights.

“Mav, what’s this about? Ice will kill us if we’re late.” Goose says as he enters the living room, barely batting an eyelid at you and Bradley sat closely together while Carole offered a sympathetic smile to the two of you, knowing what you’re about to endure.

“I just caught these two kissing. Like full-on kissing.” Maverick says, an accusing finger pointing at you and Bradley as Goose’s jaw drops, eyes widening as Maverick’s words sink in.

“Wha- these two?” Goose splutters, making you bury your head in Bradley’s shoulder in an attempt to escape the embarrassment.

“Hey, I need a bit of space between you two, back it up.” Maverick says, making you pull away from Bradley slightly to glare at your dad.

“Dad, are you serious?” You ask, and that’s when Carole decides that now is the time to step in.

“Boys, you two need to calm down.” Carole intervenes, getting both Maverick and Goose’s attention on her.

“But they hid this from us for who knows how long? How are you not angry?” Maverick manages to say, running a hand through his hair. At the silence that follows Maverick’s question, Goose connects the dots and turns to his wife.

“Honey, did you know about this?” Goose asks hesitantly, both Maverick and Goose watching Carole carefully as she nods.

“Bradley came to me a week ago. They wanted to tell you, but they were scared about how you would react and just from what I’ve seen their worries were proven right with the way you two have reacted.” Carole says, an accusing glare fired the men’s way as they exchange a look.

“y/n is my little girl.” Maverick weakly argues, making your face heat up at his words.

“Bradley’s my baby boy but I still want him to be happy and if he’s happy with y/n and she’s happy with him that’s all we should be focused on.” Carole says and it was Bradley’s turn to blush now, glancing down at his lap as you slip your hand into his and squeeze it softly.

“Brad, are you happy with y/n?”

“y/n/n, are you happy with Bradley?” Both questions leave Goose and Maverick’s mouths simultaneously. All eyes were on you and Bradley as you briefly glance at each other, smiling softly before looking back over at Goose and Maverick.

“Yes.”

“Yes.” The answers left your mouth in tandem as Bradley ran his thumb over the back of your hand. Goose and Maverick exchanged a look before shrugging.

“It probably was bound to happen, wasn’t it?” Maverick says, a slight chuckle escaping him as he speaks while Goose nods.

“Well I did call it, but I thought they’d at least wait a year until college so we wouldn’t have to be victim to their teenage PDA.” Goose says, receiving a soft slap on the arm from Carole at the teasing aimed at you and Bradley.

“Oh hush, you know we were just as bad. And it’s not like these two haven’t grown up seeing us kiss, honey.” Carole says, leaning up to give Goose a kiss to accentuate her point. With the tension now gone, you curl back into Bradley’s side, smiling as he presses a feather-light kiss to the top of your head.

“Just don’t break each other’s hearts.” Maverick warns gently, glancing between you and Bradley as you nod.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mav.” Bradley says, his smile never leaving his face.

“I don’t think I ever could. I love him too much.” You affirm, looking up at Bradley before giving him a soft, gentle kiss.

“Alright, we’ll leave you to it. But I don’t want to be a grandad at this age so be careful you two.” Maverick teases as you groan and toss a pillow at him, missing and narrowly avoiding hitting Goose in the process.

“See that, Bradley? Don’t piss off a Mitchell.” Goose says with a laugh as Maverick rolls his eyes and jokingly shoves him.

“We should make our way to the beach, boys. I’m sure the others are wondering where we are.” Carole says, diverting the attention and both Maverick and Goose nod as you detach yourself from Bradley to find your dad’s wallet and give it to him before he pulls you into a hug.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Maverick whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I love you too, dad.” You reply before pulling away with a gentle smile. After pulling away from the hug, Goose, Maverick, and Carole bid you and Bradley goodbye and make their way out to the Bronco.

“When we get to the beach someone remind me that Ice now owes me twenty bucks now that we know y/n and Bradley are together.” Goose says as he turns the key and starts the engine while Maverick nods.

“Got it… wait, you made a bet?”

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mitchellpete · 8 months

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Kinktober Day 6 - Cockwarming

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

cw: instructor!mav, student x teacher relationship, power imbalance, angst if you squint?, age gap, office sex, oral sex (m receiving), penetration, cockwarming

word count: 1875

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

It takes Maverick about a minute to notice you standing in the doorway to his office. He’s swamped with paperwork, his pen nearly running out of ink at the scrabbling he’s been doing the past couple of hours. It seems you’d both ended up with irritable days, hence the reason you found yourself here in the first place.

It was late, thank God, and no one was really around anymore and you really didn’t feel like leaving base and spending the rest of the evening sulking alone at home. You knew that Captain Mitchell was staying in late, knew that if you didn’t wander in to see him, you might not see him at all over the next couple of days.

It was a bad habit he had. He gave you too much space.

“Lieutenant,” he greets you now, a small smile curving the end of his mouth at the sight of you.

You ignore his propriety, stepping inside and shutting the door behind you. You try to match his smile. “Hi, Mav.”

He immediately drops the act. Eyes darting from you to the closed door, he asks in a hushed voice, “What are you doing?”

You approach his desk, your failed smile replaced by a frown. You want to hug him. You want him to hug you, you mean. To make it all better. You’re not sure how to ask for that, though.

“Just wanted to see you,” you say instead, curious hands reaching for the objects on his desk.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he takes each object from your hands, placing them back in their spot as you move them. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, sweetheart.”

Your heart sinks a little at the rejection, and he seems to notice the disappointment cross your face.

“Come here,” he says then, beckoning you over with a single nod.

You step behind the desk and into his space, leaning down to meet him for a kiss. It’s risky; you didn’t lock the door and the blinds aren’t fully shut, but the kiss lasts maybe two seconds. It’s fine.

Mav smiles and looks up at you with a soft glint in his eyes, the one that reads I’ll see you soon, okay? It’s the look he gives you every time he sneaks out of your house, or drops you off. You’ve started to dread it. There’s so much uncertainty that comes with it. Every single time you see him after that affectionate look, he’s just your instructor again. The affection is gone and you’re never sure when it’ll return. It doesn’t matter how much you ache for him.

Boy, how badly you ache for him now. A kiss is never enough.

You’re almost going to swallow your pride and leave his office, seemingly satisfied with the one little kiss, until your eyes land on his lap. Then at his paperwork, then at the door.

He cocks an eyebrow, curious.

Fuck. You slowly stride over to the door, battling with your choices, but decide you have no intention of leaving.

“Wh–” Maverick sits up straight at the sound of the door locking, and then watches as you move towards the windows to start shutting the blinds all the way. “What are you doing?”

“I wanna try something,” you say confidently, like he already gave you permission.

“Try something?”

“Mhm.” You shut the last set, take a step back to make sure they’re all closed and then turn your attention to him again. “Blinds shut, door locked. I think you’ve left for the day.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. He drops his pen instead, tilting his head as he tries to figure out what it is you’re planning.

He sort of gets an idea when he notices your eyes scanning his side of the desk.

“Baby, I do have a lot of work to do.”

You smile. “And if I promise you won’t get your hands dirty? At all?”

Mav chuckles, shakes his head like it’s the most absurd idea he’s ever heard. It might be, you think, but it’s something you can pull off. The door is locked, after all.

“I think we’d be really stupid if we tried,” he admits, though his smile doesn’t falter.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you reiterate. “I just want to sit there. You can continue working.”

It’s like he opens his mouth to protest again, but then his lips press together instead, and he beckons you toward him with a nod like before.

Excitement fills you as he scoots his chair back to grant you access.

It’s hard to get on your knees in the cramped space underneath the desk, so you have to urge Mav to move his chair back with a gentle push to his legs. He complies, does his best to make as much room for you as he can. You find that you’re sort of shaky when your fingers pry at the button on his jeans, so he helps you with that, too. The position is slightly ridiculous, the chair a little higher than it should be, so you end up on your haunches when you pull his cock out of his briefs, and then sort of yank his garments down with your other hand for easier access.

His eyes are still nervously peering at the closed blinds, making sure there aren’t any shapes or sounds coming from behind them, but you ease his worries when you take his shaft into your mouth. There’s no time to prolong this, so you get right to it; you take him in as much as you can, using a hand to stroke him at the same time. His knuckles are white from gripping the arms of his chair as he hardens in your mouth. Stifled groans leave his lips, filthy wet ones coming from yours.

He throws his head back in silent satisfaction when you swirl your tongue around the tip, and accidentally groans out loud when you dip your head and trace your tongue down, and then back up his frenulum.

The noise he makes reminds you that you’re not supposed to make him cum here, that this is something different, and you pull back after a minute or so. Maverick is biting down hard on his lip, watches as you stand up off your haunches and immediately work your pants off. He shifts in his seat, positions himself as best he can for you.

With your pants completely off and kicked aside, you grab onto his shoulders and mount yourself atop his lap. Hovering above him, you reach down to grab him and line yourself up with him the best you can; usually he would do that for you but you did promise he wouldn’t have to get his hands dirty.

“No moving,” you prompt, exhaling softly at the feel of his tip against your slit.

You whimper at the stretch—it stings just a little from lack of foreplay—but gradually sink onto him little by little. You let your body accommodate him, feel yourself growing wetter around him before you sink any lower. He tenses up, tries to minimize his reaction by gritting his teeth. The long groan that leaves his mouth is inevitable when you fully slip onto his lap, his cock buried inside you to the hilt. Christ, this is gonna be harder than you thought.

He seems to think so too, as his grip around your waist tightens slightly. “Sweetheart, I don’t—I don’t think this is such a good idea,” he groans.

“Just get back to work,” you whisper, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

His hands leave your waist to resume his task, but his breathing remains heavy near your ear. You relax into him, face buried in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. You’ve got your hug. This is all you wanted today.

Maverick scoots his chair forward as best he can, picks up his pen and shuffles through his papers.

You try not to clench around him, a very difficult problem when he scoots forward slightly a second time, his balls rubbing up into your clit. You try to focus on something else, on his scent, past him at the frames on the wall, on the bits of light coming in through the blinds.

A minute passes.

Two minutes pass.

Three, and Mav still hasn’t touched pen to paper yet, clearly dazed by the situation. His eyes skim over the words he’s already written instead, trying to give his brain an idea on where to get started again.

He wants to move very badly. It’s a terrible itch he needs to scratch.

He starts to think that this is maybe a form of torture. You try not to think much of it, try to pretend this is the hug you were here for, and it sort of works. Sort of. His cock prods at a very delicious spot inside you the more he begins to shift his hips, and it becomes harder and harder to stay still.

It’s when you hear his pen drop and roll across the desk that you realize Maverick is not so fond of your idea. Get back to work how, he must be thinking, and God, you hope he’s not frustrated that this whole ordeal probably just set him back.

If he is, he doesn’t show it, instead wrapping his arms around you and inadvertently rolling his hips underneath you. You gasp, taken by sudden surprise, clasping a hand over your mouth when his hips jerk a second time.

“Mav,” you whisper. “I said—fuck, I said no moving.”

He scoffs, bows his head to lazily kiss at your collarbone. “You’re killing me. I’ll never go back to work like this.”

You bite back a moan. “I promised you wouldn’t get your hands dirty. I just wanted to sit he–”

He shuts you up with a sharp, fully intended snap of his hips. His arms drop to cup the bottom of your thighs, and neither of you care anymore after the first stroke. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room and it’s hard not to make any additional noise, suppressing your moans into little whines instead. Maverick starts fucking into you as if it were the first time, as if he’d never felt something so good before.

Neither of you last very long.

Maverick’s thrusts get sloppy when you’re both seconds away, his tiring pace beginning to stumble. He’s smart enough to take you in for a deep kiss when you both cum at the same time, your quiet, high-pitched noises trapped in between your mouths. He continues kissing you through your unplanned orgasm, tongue licking against yours.

When he pulls back, you’re both panting heavily, savoring the glow.

He helps you off of him eventually. Your legs are a little sore and shaky, and you clumsily stumble back against his desk. Maverick’s good reflexes prevent your fall, an arm around your waist, and you avoid landing on his messy stack of paperwork. You can’t help but snicker at how absurd this really was.

Maverick, on the other hand, has a smirk on his face at the sight of you propped over his desk.

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worldofheroes · 4 months

Text

It Was You

pete “maverick” mitchell x reader

summary: when maverick knocks on your door, your true feelings emerge.

warnings: friends with benefits, student/instructor dynamic, age gap (not mentioned), language, drunkenness, make-out session

wc: 823

a/n: based on this request! not necessarily exactly like the song but there’s angst. hope you enjoy!

It had been almost two months since you broke things off with Maverick.

Not that the two of you were really dating, it was more of a friends with benefits type relationship, but after a month you realized how bad of an idea it was to fuck your instructor.

You were doing well, but whenever you passed Maverick in the halls on base, he would give you puppy eyes, like he was trying to apologize for something.

One Friday night, you’re at home watching a movie with your new fling. He’s nothing to write home about, but you needed someone to get your mind off of Maverick.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on your door.

“I’ll get it,” you say, standing up from the couch and heading to the front door.

When you open the door, your smile fades.

“What are you doing here?”

“I miss you,” Maverick mumbles. You can smell whiskey faintly on his breath.

“Maverick,” you sigh. “You’re drunk. Please go home.”

“Not drunk,” he continued to mumble.

“Mav, this is embarrassing, please go.”

Ryan walks up behind you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, he was just leaving, right, Pete?”

The use of his name over his call sign stings not just Maverick, but also you.

Maverick nods, and stumbles off your porch.

“Wait,” you call out. Maverick stops, back still to you.

You turn to Ryan. “I need to get him home before he does anything he’s gonna regret in the morning. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“How do I know you’re not gonna do anything?” Ryan asks.

“Trust me, nothing’s going to happen.”

Ryan stares at you for a moment.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, stepping across the threshold.

Maverick is still waiting at the bottom of your steps.

“Why did you come here?” you hiss.

“I miss you,” he repeats, looking at the ground.

You grab his arm and start to lead him to his house.

“Mav, I told you.”

“You don’t look happy with him,” Maverick frowns.

“This is not your place to tell me who I can and can’t date,” you quip.

“Gimme another chance,” he pleads.

“We can’t, Pete. You’re my instructor. There are rules.”

“Fuck the rules.”

“Not these rules. You can do whatever the fuck you want up in the air but we have to follow these rules, Mav.”

You guide him up the steps to his house.

“We were good together,” he mumbles.

“Don’t do this, Pete,” you say, feeling your throat close up and tears forming in your eyes.

Maverick looks up at you with sadness in his eyes.

“I won’t, I’m sorry for knocking on your door,” he says, suddenly stone cold sober.

“I need to go before I do something stupid,” you say, turning away. “Goodnight, Mav.”

“Goodnight, y/n,” Maverick whispers.

You go back to your place, where Ryan is still waiting.

Later that night, as you lay in bed with Ryan, you can’t stop thinking about how you’d rather be next to Maverick.

You spend the weekend with Ryan, but your mind is filled with Maverick. As Ryan walks you to your door Sunday night, you find some courage.

“Ryan, I don’t think this is working for me,” you say.

“What?” he asks you.

“I wanted to make this work, but I just don’t have the same feelings that you do for me.”

“It’s Maverick, isn’t it?”

“Ryan, I…”

“No, I get it. Goodnight.”

Ryan turns on his heel and walks away. You watch him walk out of sight and you walk to Maverick’s house.

You knock on his door, and he answers almost immediately.

“Y/n,” he says softly.

“You were right, Mav,” you say, on the verge of tears.

“What?”

“I miss you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after Friday night.”

Maverick doesn’t say anything.

“If you changed your mind and don’t feel the same anymore, I get it and I’ll leave if you tell me,” you say, rambling.

Maverick leans in and kisses you, hard. Your arms wrap around his neck instinctively, and you push him back inside his house, kicking the door shut behind you.

He pushes you up against the door with a thud. Maverick’s tongue eagerly swipes against your lips, wanting in.

Of course, without any hesitation, you part your lips for him, his tongue moving in and swiping against yours.

A moan slips out of your mouth and into his, and he sighs happily.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me,” Maverick tells you.

“You’re the worst thing that’s happened to me,” you tease.

He smiles. “I know you don’t mean that.”

You giggle and kiss him again, happy to be back in his arms.

“I’m sorry I walked away, I was scared,” you say softly.

“Don’t be, y/n,” Maverick reassures you, pulling you in for a hug. He kisses the top of your head.

“Mav,” you sigh, squeezing him tighter, never wanting to let go ever again.

#tom cruise x reader #tom cruise imagine #maverick x reader #top gun x reader #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell imagine #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell imagine #requests

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kaffiko · 5 months

Text

a risky game

pairing - tom cruise x fem!reader summary - after your friend on set tells you she likes tom, you realise that they can't happen, because you like tom, and you know you need to confess your feelings before it's too late. warnings - a dash of angst, but mostly just fluff word count - 2.1k a/n - first fic! can you spot the tiniest jerry maguire reference?

you recalled the first time you'd met tom cruise. he was so incredibly handsome. his large, deep, green eyes and his shiny brunette hair... he was majestic. not only was he dazzling, but tom was driven and talented. when he introduced himself, shaking your hand, his voice was deep and charismatic.

although you had worked with many huge movie stars throughout your career, none of them came close to the way tom made you feel. he wanted you to be comfortable, like you were made to be a part of the cast. it was one of his ideas to make the movie a more authentic experience. you supposed that was why you never acted on your feelings. he was determined, and focused on his career. it seemed as if tom could never be interested in a relationship with someone on set.

as the filming continued, you kept your feelings towards tom bottled up inside you. you talked to him completely out of professionalism. of course, you didn't want to be awkward around him, so you told him stories of your family, your career, and he did the same. you learned so many amazing things about him, his family, how he raised up into the industry. the only thing that did was make you want him more. but you knew, attraction was a risky game.

tom was kind to everyone, though he had a special spot for you. he'd had many lead roles with various actresses, who were all beautiful and charming, but they weren't even close to being in the same vicinity as you. he knew you were oblivious to it, but you were on his mind twenty-four-seven, no one else. the first day tom laid eyes on you, shook your hand, saw your beautiful smile, he knew he had fallen for you. he was entranced by your gorgeous y/e/c eyes, y/h/c hair, your slight pink cheeks, everything. to him, everything about you was flawless.

as much as tom wanted you, he knew he could never have you. he was a couple years older than you, and so immensely famous that everyone he'd ever been with was scared of the news circulating them. tom didn't ever want that to happen to you.

consequently, the two of you kept your feelings for each other to yourselves. exchanging glances, smiles, and small talk was all you could ever do.

now, you find yourself in tom's arms. his shirt is off, with you still fully clothed, though both your lips were puffy and pink from the previous kiss, make-out, whatever you want to call it, scene. it was heavenly. kissing tom was exactly how you envisioned it, like having a taste of something delicious, but you had to share it with your sibling. his lips were soft on yours, but the kiss was rough. your hands ran through his fluffy hair, melting completely into him. meanwhile, tom's left hand was placed firmly on your waist, while his right was moving up and down your body. you swore you heard him groan into your mouth at one point.

tom, himself, the director, and the producers loved the scene, but tom loved it on a whole other level, and in a completely different way. having your lips on his felt like a dream that he wanted to last forever. after that scene, tom loved you even more, if that was even possible.

your makeup artist, hanna, would often give you a lecture on how you should confess to tom. she knew everything about everyone, including how the two of you were apparently 'head over heels' for one another. hanna was the same makeup artist for almost everyone, since they wanted to spend more money on sets instead of makeup, so she was on top of all the gossip. half the time, you were still part asleep, so you paid no attention. that is, until she mentioned someone else was soon going to shoot her shot.

"i'm sorry, what?!" you semi-yelled, fully aware there were other actors still getting ready. your makeup artist nodded at you.

"yep. little miss lindsay turner is going to go for your man! you can't let that happen, can you?" hanna grinned. god, she was trying to get to you, and it was working.

you and lindsay certainly weren't close friends, but she was the only person you talked to at lunch besides tom. despite all the chatter that was going around, you never would have imagined lindsay actually liking tom. sometimes, she would get a little touchy, holding onto his arm as she giggled, and although you thought it was a little weird at first, you knew it was all platonic. at least, that's what you thought you knew.

it made you nervous. for the first time in your life, after a long time, you felt fear, and all the happy thoughts from the past few days had disintegrated into thin air. lindsay was undeniably beautiful. everyone admired her luscious red hair - they thought she was prettiest red head they'd seen in their entire lives. it hurt to say that you did, sort of, agree. tom could look even better with a girl like lindsay, why would he ever choose you?

lindsay and tom also had a lot in common, she was delighted to work with someone who was just as motivated as she was. she spoke with such confidence in her voice that it washed away all that was in yours. you felt invisible whenever lindsay was in the same room as you.

you sighed, looking at hanna hopelessly, "what do i do, hanna?"

she smiled, "well, i'm gonna make you look extra good today, even though you already look perfect on a daily basis. luckily for you, you have one of those date scenes with tom, so you need to look glammed up anyway. getting him to fall for you, not like he hasn't already," she winked, "is all about your mentality. you need to hint that you are thinking about tom in the scene, and not his character."

hanna was right. today, had, yet another, scene where you needed to kiss tom. she continued, "you need to make him love you, no one gives a damn about professionalism and his character, and what not." she finished your makeup, which was stunning, and handed you your costume. by the time she was done with the finishing touches, even you admitted you looked good.

"can we get y/n on in two minutes?" a voice from outside called.

"alright, y/n, go get him girl." hanna breathed out, patting your shoulders. you smiled at her quickly before leaving the room.

when tom saw you, his jaw quite literally dropped. he always found you stunning, but today, you were a different kind of stunning. you approached him, smiling warmly. "hey," you said.

his eyes scanned you quickly. you felt your cheeks heat up. was tom cruise really checking you out? "wow," tom chuckled, breathlessly, "you look... great."

you laughed lightly, stunned by his shocked expression, "thank you. you do too."

tom was dressed in a crisp, white dress shirt, paired with black slacks. his outfit matched with your sparkling, white dress and black heels. the scene was meant to be at a fancy restaurant, where tom's character took yours out on a date, and near the end, the two of you would share a passionate kiss. you couldn't help but smirk as lindsay discreetly gritted her teeth.

there were only a few minutes left before the shooting of the scene started, though that didn't stop lindsay from pulling you aside just as you were about to walk into the room. "hey, y/n," lindsay whispered, "i need to tell you something."

you looked at her, about ninety percent sure of what she was going to say next. "you have to promise you won't tell anyone though," she added.

you placed a hand on her shoulder. that was one of the many things lindsay hated about you. you were so, so kind, it made her feel guilty of how much she despised you. occasionally, she would think to herself, 'it's just a man', but it really wasn't just a man. it was tom cruise. lindsay was extremely envious of you. while you didn't know it, every single member of the cast was wrapped around your finger, especially tom. lindsay knew there was no way of competing against you. so, in order to score tom, she thought she had to do what she had originally been dreading.

"i promise. your secret's safe with me." you whispered back.

lindsay took a deep breath, then sighed it out, "i like tom." the words were like bullets, piercing your flesh, and racing straight through. you saw it coming, yet here you are, speechless. just when everything was going well for you, a pretty girl like lindsay had to ruin it.

"i-" you stuttered, struggling to even find words, "tom's great. he's an amazing and talented guy, you should totally shoot your shot."

lindsay beamed at your words, thrilled you didn't yell at her. "that's exactly what i was thinking!" she squealed, "i was going to tell him today, but i wanted your approval first. you know, girl best friends never let another girl steal them."

such a backhanded statement. you could feel the glare she gave you from a mile away. 'approval', 'girl best friend', 'steal'. you decided that if she said another word, you would hire a hitman to crawl into her trailer and stab her.

to save yourself trouble, you cut the conversation short, "you're absolutely right. you need to tell him, he actually really likes you. he thinks you're beautiful." you purposely used the same tone of voice as her and dragged out the 'beautiful'. "i need to go now. good luck, lindsay!"

lindsay watched as you walked down the hall, your glossy hair swishing each step you took. she was relieved she didn't need to say anything more.

she felt her hope fade each time she conversed with you, and this time, it might have just all gone away.

your mouth curved into a small smile just as tom placed his hand on top of yours. the cameras were solely on the two of you. tom's eyes were staring directly into your own, his gaze safe and lustful. "you're beautiful." he said, still looking attentively at you. you stayed silent, as mentioned in the script, but you continued smiling.

tom leaned in, just slightly. you did the same a couple seconds later, and soon, the two of you were almost touching. you felt his warm breath graze against your lips. tom leaned in a little more, placing one small kiss, then pulling away. you loved it. so much, that you wanted more. you leaned in again. this time, the kiss was different. it was as if you found the delicious delicacy again, and needed to selfishly devour the whole thing.

the director yelled cut, and the two of you pulled apart. after that kiss, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

you couldn't keep looking at tom every day and pretend you didn't feel more than friendship. you couldn't talk to tom, and hide away everything you wanted to tell him. attraction was a risky game, but it was one you were willing to play.

"tom." he was still sitting across from you. his head was bowed down to fix his shirt, but he looked up at the sound of your voice.

"i love you." you managed to say through shaky breaths.

tom smiled, shaking his head, "y/n, the camera isn't rolling anymore."

"no," you stopped tom, "i'm serious. let me say it again. i love you."

he was frozen. the most still you'd ever seen anyone be. tom couldn't believe the words that had just come out of your mouth. all these moments, where he could've said something, and didn't, were suddenly all a waste of time. if only he had known earlier, he could've stopped himself from this misery of hiding his, clearly obvious, feelings.

"i totally understand if you don't feel the same, i mean, you're a huge movie-" you were immediately cut off by tom's lips crashing onto yours. you instantly kissed back. you were finally kissing tom cruise, off camera. it was complete bliss.

"i love you too." tom said, bringing your hand up and placing small kisses on your knuckles.

on the side, lindsay was only slightly angry. she was definitely jealous, but she had realised just how amazing you were for tom. he looked at you with such love in his eyes, she came to the conclusion that he would never look at anyone else the same.

you were too happy to notice lindsay, though you would've been glad to know she wasn't fuming.

you were focused entirely on tom, and he was focused entirely on you. attraction was a risky game, and it was one you had won.

#tom cruise x reader #tom cruise x female reader #tom cruise #pete maverick mitchell #tom cruise imagine #pete maverick mitchell x reader #ethan hunt x reader

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bradshawssugarbaby · 2 months

Text

Head Over Heels - Pete Mitchell x Reader

A/N: I've watched the OG so many times over the last month I felt inspired to write a little 1980s set piece for baby Mav. It's roughly set in 1983 (obvs. I wasn't born yet so I'm going purely off my obsession with 80s shit bare with me ok).

pairing: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

warnings/content: fluff, set in the 1980s, Maverick hits on you in a bar while you're working, brief mention of Goose & Carole if you squint.

word count: 2.2k

“You're a rich girl, and you've gone too far, ‘cause you know it don't matter anyway…”

The sounds of Hall and Oates’ Rich Girl rang out from the jukebox that sat opposite from the bar, a few off-key voices attempting to sing the words in slurred tones, incoherent to anyone other than themselves. It was a typical Friday night, with a few people seated on the red vinyl booths that encircled the bar counter, empty beer glasses in front of them as they waited anxiously for a top up.

You didn’t love your job here - you only did it to put yourself through school, and even then, it wasn’t as though you needed to - your parents had offered you financial assistance on more than one occasion, almost scandalized at the thought of their precious daughter working in a dive bar on weekends to put herself through college, but you were determined. You wanted to earn this degree on your own merit, without your parents holding the loan of a few thousand dollars over your head and without the feeling that you were some spoiled little rich kid that others should despise or envy.

As you wiped a table clean in the far corner of the bar, you took note of two young men in bomber jackets coming through the entrance. The shorter of the two, a dark-haired man with intriguing eyes - were they hazel, blue or green? It was nearly impossible to tell. - laughed as he looked back to his friend, a tall blonde haired man with a mustache, who looked incredibly unimpressed about the choice of bar that his buddy had. You couldn’t say you blamed him - the food was decent, but that was about it. You weren’t exactly known for being the Ritz Carlton of dive bars.

The two men sidled up to a booth, and you sighed to yourself, knowing that it meant they’d become your responsibility, whether they were aware of that fact or not. You finished cleaning the table off and retreated behind the bar to find two menus - not that they seemed like the type who were here for food - you knew the younger men that came in usually only came for one thing, cheap beer. You approached their table, plastering your customer service smile on your face as you sauntered over. You handed them each a menu and greeted them with your normally joyful voice, and you couldn’t help but feel like you came off as someone deranged for being so cheerful.

“Hi! What can I get you both?”

“I’ll have whatever’s on tap, thanks,” the blonde replied with a polite head nod towards you.

The brunette started eyeing you up, a grin plastered on his face as he took in the sight of you. Your outfit was hardly anything worth looking at, you thought to yourself. Fitted high-waisted jeans and a t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo emblazoned on the back, the baggier fitting shirt tucked into your jeans to accentuate the fact that, despite how the t-shirt might come off, you did in fact have hips. His grin was playful - not the kind you were used to from men who saw you at work. He didn’t give you the impression he was only interested in taking you to bed with him, although you weren’t entirely convinced that wasn’t his motive. His hazel eyes lit up as he looked at you, his thousand-watt grin almost distracting.

“What do you recommend? I’ve never been here before.” He charmed, still smiling up at you.

“Well, our wings are pretty popular, I personally like them dressed in Kansas City sauce, it’s a bit spicier but it’s not too overpowering, and for a drink, I usually go for a rye and coke, but if you’re more of a beer guy, I recommend pairing it with a Budweiser. You can never go wrong there.”

“Perfect, I’ll have that, please. With a side of coleslaw.”

“Alright, two beers, an order of KC wings and a side of coleslaw? You got it.”

You disappeared behind the counter with their order and returned a few moments later with their drinks in hand. The brunette was leaning in towards his friend, whispering in a hushed tone that you could barely make out, but it was evident that your presence wasn’t known. You set the drinks down on the table and both men sat straighter in their seats. The blonde one looked at you with a charming smile, the kind you’d give a teacher who’d walked in on you doing something you weren’t supposed to at school. He cleared his throat and laughed slightly as he took a sip of his drink before setting the glass down on the cardboard coaster you’d brought over.

“I’m so sorry, but my friend here, he’s a little shy. He thinks you’re really pretty though. Not that I don’t, I’m just engaged.” The blonde babbled, seemingly nervous, as if he was afraid you’d throw his drink over him.

“Does he? Why doesn’t he tell me so himself?” You teased, looking over to the brunette, who was now blushing and grinning like an absolute idiot - the most attractive idiot you’d ever seen.

“He is afraid of women. Sort of, anyways. I never say the right thing.” He explained matter of factly.

His eyes squinted to read the name tag on your shirt, saying it slowly to make sure he was pronouncing it correctly before giving you another smile. “Beautiful name,” he added.

“Well, now this seems unfair - you know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“Right! Right. I’m Maverick. This here’s my buddy, Goose.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, Navy callsigns. I’m Pete. He’s Nick.”

“Goose is fine,” the blonde interjected, shaking his head as he held up a hand to stop Pete from talking further, “Only my mom calls me Nick. And usually it’s if I’m in shit for something.”

“Nice to meet you, Pete. Goose.”

You politely excused yourself from the table with a laugh before continuing with your other duties that night - waiting the few surrounding tables with patrons, cleaning and restocking napkins and cutlery around the bar. You noticed at one point that Pete had approached the jukebox. He flipped through the available songs, selecting one seemingly at random, bringing Vacation by The Go-Gos to an abrupt end as his choice of song began playing. The opening bars of Making Love Out of Nothing At All by Air Supply began to fill the room, and Pete gave you a beaming grin as he retreated back to his seat. He began singing along to song with Goose, the two carrying on in an off-key harmonic ensemble that, admittedly, had you fighting the urge to sing along.

As you approached the table once more, a playful smirk gracing your lips at Pete's rendition of the song, you couldn't deny the infectious energy he exuded. His performance, though not flawless, carried a certain charm that captivated your attention. As you deftly cleared away their empty dishes, Pete's gaze met yours once again, but this time with a smile that held a hint of mischief, a smile that could easily disarm even the most composed.

"Are you finishing up soon?" His voice was casual, but there was an underlying eagerness in his tone. Checking his watch briefly before locking eyes with you again, he continued, "I don’t have to be back on base until tomorrow morning. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to do something after work."

You couldn't help but grin at his forwardness, though you made a show of feigning reluctance. "I don’t accept dates from guys who ask me out at my workplace," you teased, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

Pete's response was quick, his charm effortlessly slipping through the cracks of your defenses. "Ok, that’s understandable. What time are you off work?"

"In ten minutes," you replied, a mixture of amusement and surprise coloring your tone as you realized the clever loophole he had found in your earlier rejection.

"Perfect. I’ll meet you outside in ten."

True to his word, ten minutes later found you standing outside, Goose offering a polite wave as he departed. Pete's smile was infectious as he approached you, his demeanor exuding a newfound confidence. He gestured towards you, his grin widening as he spoke.

"You said no because I asked you out inside, but now?"

A playful glint danced in your eyes as you played along. "Now, I suppose I can say yes. You’re no longer a creepy guy asking me out at work."

"Exactly, now I’m a creepy guy asking you out outside of your work. Much better," he quipped, a chuckle escaping him as he extended his arm towards you.

You couldn't help but laugh at his remark, the tension between you dissipating as you fell into an easy banter. As he introduced himself, the warmth in his voice was palpable, and you found yourself drawn in despite your initial reservations.

Pete shook his head, a self-amused chuckle escaping him before he gallantly extended his arm towards you. His cheeks took on a charming shade of pink, adding a subtle glow to his already handsome features. It was then that the disparity in height between the two of you became apparent, your gaze meeting his from a slightly elevated position. A grin played at his lips as he ran a hand through his dark locks, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he regarded you with a mix of earnestness and intrigue.

"Sorry, I’m relatively new to this," he confessed with a sheepish grin. "My success rate’s not the highest unless I’m in uniform, and even then."

"Uniform?" you echoed, curiosity lacing your tone.

Straightening up, Pete cleared his throat before executing a mock salute with a touch of playful flair. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Peter Mitchell, United States Naval Air Force, currently stationed over at North Island, just across the bay," he announced with a subtle gesture toward the distant island.

"Peter, huh?"

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Did you think my parents just put Pete on the birth certificate and called it a day?"

"Actually," you quipped back, "earlier before you clarified, I thought they put Maverick on there and called it a day - Pete didn’t seem like too far of a stretch."

"I suppose you’re right," he conceded with a grin. "I don’t think I’ve been called by my full name since school, and even then, it was back when Peter from The Brady Bunch was still cool. I liked it then, all the girls liked him anyways."

"I was more of a Greg girl, actually," you teased, raising an eyebrow in playful defiance as you pretended to inspect your manicure.

"Of course you were," he chuckled, his tone teasing yet affectionate. "You’re one of the first girls I’ve met to not care about the military thing. Most girls are all over that."

"It’s impressive, don’t get me wrong," you interjected with a shrug. "I’ve just dated military guys before."

"Have you?" Pete's interest was piqued, his gaze locked onto yours with a newfound curiosity.

"Well, one," you admitted. "My first boyfriend when I moved down to San Diego from Oakland."

"You’re from Oakland?! I’m from San Francisco!"

"Small world, isn't it?" Pete's eyes lit up with a spark of excitement, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he realized the unexpected connection between your hometowns. "I guess that makes us Bay Area neighbors, in a sense."

You couldn't help but return his smile, feeling a sense of warmth in the shared familiarity of your origins. "Seems like it," you agreed, the playful banter easing any remaining tension between you.

As the conversation flowed effortlessly between you, a comfortable silence settled, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the bustling pier. In that moment, standing on the threshold of possibility, you couldn't ignore the magnetic pull drawing you closer to Pete.

"So," he began, breaking the silence with a gentle tone, "any chance I could persuade you to show a newcomer around San Diego? I'm afraid my knowledge of the city is limited to the base and a few local hotspots."

The invitation hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. With a playful glint in your eyes, you considered his request, allowing yourself to entertain the idea of exploring the city with him.

"I suppose I could be persuaded," you teased, a coy smile playing at the corners of your lips. "But only if you promise to keep up with this newfound charm of yours, Lieutenant Mitchell."

Pete's laughter echoed against the backdrop of the bay, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. "Consider it a deal, Miss Oakland," he replied, extending his arm once more in a silent invitation to embark on this newfound adventure together.

As you linked your arm with his, a sense of anticipation tingled in the air, the promise of new beginnings lingering on the horizon. With each step forward, you couldn't help but wonder where this unexpected encounter would lead, but one thing was certain: with Pete by your side, the journey promised to be anything but ordinary.

#pete maverick mitchell #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell x you #pete mitchell #pete mitchell x reader #pete mitchell x you #maverick #maverick x reader #maverick x you #top gun fanfiction #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick

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the-authoress-writes · 29 days

Text

Up Where We Belong

Part One

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Writer!reader

Synopsis: When a writer experiencing horrible writer’s block goes to the Apple Valley Airshow for inspiration, she meets a certain older, daring naval aviator, leading to maybe a little more than just inspiration.

Warnings: Mentions of hospice and family member deaths, age gap (reader is in their late thirties to early forties).

But really, this is just fluff.

Author’s Note: The plot bunnies have reproduced at an unholy rate, and I am so stupid for writing this, especially since I have another chapter of “Wherever You Go”, to write, the first chapter of “Safe and Sound” and a MavDad story to finish.

The second part and another Mav story is lined up, but at this point, I’m not going to complain, because at least I’m writing, and Mav is finally getting more of my writerly attention.

We’ll see what gets finished next, 😂.

#writerlife

Again, I name a story after a song, from another movie about the Navy, funnily enough.

(Only three of my stories on my masterlist are not named after songs—I can’t stop, apparently)

So here we go!

She had always been somewhat interested in planes—it was hard not to be, when most of her family was in commercial aviation.

Her father had flown for nearly thirty years for American, her younger brother was currently a first officer coming up on his command upgrade with Delta, and her grandfather, whom she affectionately called PopPop, had flown for Continental.

Some of her fondest memories were looking over her grandfather’s maps and airport diagrams, and sitting on his lap while he taught her how to use an analog flight computer.

But one day, when she was home from her freshman year of college, where she was taking her degree in English, her grandfather took her up to the attic to show her something.

It was a footlocker from World War II, the faded paint on the outside reading “USAAF”.

“This was your granduncle Joseph’s—my eldest brother.

He was a P-51 pilot.

He ran many successful missions in his aircraft until he got shot down saving his wingman’s life, near the end of the war.”

PopPop opened the footlocker, revealing a faded American flag folded into a tricorn lying neatly atop several dark greenish-brown uniforms.

PopPop gently lifted the flag and uniforms out of the footlocker, uncovering yellowed, brittle-looking maps, a compass set, and a thick stack of letters, tied together with a black ribbon.

It was the stack of letters that PopPop lifted out, and held out to her. “Look at these, and read them.”

She did, and the story the letters contained was beautiful and heartbreaking.

Her granduncle had fallen in love with a woman who was a member of the French Resistance, named Céline, whom he’d met during a covert resupply mission, and they even had plans to marry after the war.

But she’d died in a skirmish with German soldiers in Paris, leaving him so bereft that he’d taken to writing letters to her specter, just to have an outlet for his grief.

The last letter in the pile was heartwrenching, where her granduncle Joseph talked about how he was only living because she would want him to, only being careful in the air because she’d want him to.

She’d cried reading the letters, and she’d asked PopPop why he’d wanted her to read the letters.

“I wanted someone else to know their story,” he’d simply replied.

“No one else knows?”

He hummed, considering his answer. “Sometimes you keep some things to yourself until the right person to tell comes along.”

A few years passed, and when PopPop was on hospice, the two of them were watching “Band of Brothers”, when she remembered Uncle Joe, as she’d taken to calling him in her head.

“What’s going on in that bright head of yours, darling?” PopPop’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh, uh, nothing much, I was just remembering Uncle Joe.

Thinking that he and Céline deserved better.”

“They did.”

She shook her head, “I wish I could write them a happier ending, you know?”

PopPop hummed weakly. “Well, why don’t you?

If anyone could do it, it would be you.

If you do that, I’m sure in a few years, those English professors of yours would be saying that they taught a great American author.”

She was shocked and touched. “Wha—I—well, I guess I could, but, are—y-you’d be okay with that, PopPop?”

He laid a cold hand on hers, “I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else, my dear girl.”

“Okay,” she smiled tearily, and nodded, the two of them returning their attention to the episode.

A week later, PopPop passed, and many things happened over the ensuing years that caused the idea of writing about Uncle Joe to be put on the back burner.

In fact, she forgot all about it, until she was sitting on her couch a couple of weeks after having been let go from her job as an English teacher at her local high school.

She was mindlessly watching an episode of some show she couldn’t even remember the name of, when her eyes landed on the footlocker which PopPop had given to her in his will.

The memory of PopPop encouraging her to write about Uncle Joe came back to her, and she paused the episode, strode over to the footlocker, carefully opened it, and drew out the letters.

Madly, over the course of the next several hours, she reread the letters, numerous research-related tabs quickly opening up on her phone, tablet, and laptop.

As months passed, she made good progress on her first draft, but somewhere along the way, about slightly less than halfway through her intended story beats, she hit the dreaded dead end, writer’s block in full force.

Rereading the letters did nothing—every line she wrote, she deleted; she felt lost, and like she’d completely lost Uncle Joe and Céline’s voices.

She felt right back at square one.

Then, one day, as she was looking at her brother’s latest Facebook reel from his layover in Korea, she saw an advertisement for the Apple Valley Airshow, which would feature an aerobatic demonstration with an actual, airworthy P-51.

Maybe seeing the aircraft her Uncle flew would shake something loose in her brain so she could move forward.

She didn’t even hesitate—she immediately booked a ticket, and prepared herself to take down a lot of notes.

The airshow was absolutely wonderful, and even though she never got as into aviation as the rest of her family, it was still something which fascinated her, and seeing the planes made her marvel all over again at the miracle that was aviation, how humankind had successfully taken the skies for itself through brutally elegant means.

Finally, it was time for the reason she’d come—the emcee began, “Now, everyone, you’re all in for a treat, because up next, we have a nearly eighty-year-old aircraft, a P-51K named Bianca, and she’ll be giving us an aerobatic demonstration!

So let’s give a warm Apple Valley Airshow welcome to Bianca and her owner and pilot, US Navy Captain Pete Mitchell!”

She clapped along with everyone else, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the P-51.

Soon, the sound of a propeller engine grew louder and louder, and then, there she was.

Bianca was gorgeous, gleaming silver with red markings, the American star roundel on her side.

The shining aircraft got closer and closer to the ground, towards the crowd, and just as she was about to worry that the P-51 was in an upset condition, the plane pulled up slightly, buzzing the transfixed people.

Laughing in awe and delight, she clapped with everyone, and watched as the daring pilot put the plane through a series of hair-raising spirals, rolls, dives, and elegant, breathtaking passes with such precision, skill, and ease, just knowing that whoever was flying that old girl had aviation in his blood as surely as it ran in hers; it made her wonder what her granduncle would say about how the venerable fighter was being flown.

Before she knew it, the demonstration was over, and with another low pass and wing wave, the P-51 flew off to land.

It actually took her a moment to come back to herself, she was so stunned by what she saw, and she knew she had to see Bianca up close.

After asking for directions to the flight line, she scanned the row of planes, eventually spying a flash of red.

She walked over, catching sight of a tall, mustached man a few years younger than her, standing in front of the aircraft, wearing a borderline-obnoxiously-loud Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over a white tank and jeans, stereotypical Ray-Bans pushed up onto his head.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes?” the man replied.

“Is this the P-51 which flew a few minutes ago?

She is a P-51, right?”

“That’d be a yes to both questions, ma’am.”

She chuckled grimly at the idea that her age was maybe showing enough for her to be ma’am-ed by someone only a few years younger than her. “Are you the owner?”

He scoffed, good-naturedly. “Nah, that’ll be my dad.

Hey Dad, someone wants to talk to you!”

A moment later, a man stepped out from under the P-51, and she’d absolutely be lying if she said her breath didn’t catch.

First off, if she had to guess, he was older than her, but there was something about him which made him seem younger than his age.

Then there was the fact that he was absurdly good looking—ridiculously so, in fact; impossibly raven-dark hair, mischievously sparkling, brilliant green eyes, and a physique that people half her age would kill for, all sinewy muscle, visible with the snug white t-shirt and jeans he was wearing.

The final nail in the proverbial coffin was his smile—God, it belonged in a museum, because it was a work of art, and coupled with his roguish air, everything about him screamed the most delicious kind of trouble, sending echoes of Whoopi Goldberg’s voice saying, “You in danger, girl,” through her head.

“Hi,” he began, extending his hand.

Luckily for her, she was quick on the draw, and extended her own hand, proffering a “Hi,” of her own, though she kicked herself at the fact that the next words out of her mouth were, “Are you the owner?”

Oh, well—couldn’t win them all.

His grip was firm and calloused, but gentle, without the cool metal band she expected on his fourth finger, quick eyes observing the lack of even a pale band of skin on the same finger, and she shook herself from the observation in time to hear his, “That’s me—Pete Mitchell, you can call me Mav.”

At her quizzical look, he continued, “It’s short for my callsign, Maverick—I’m Navy.”

She nodded, “The emcee did say you were Navy, and that tracks; judging from that impressive demonstration, you don’t strike me as the kind who blends in.”

“Thank you—I aim to please,” he grinned.

Miraculously, she managed to ignore his brilliant, beautiful smile, somehow mustering a “Well, you certainly delivered,” before she introduced herself.

A cough from the younger man, Pete’s son, made her realize that she hadn’t let go of Pete’s hand, and vice versa, which caused the two of them to practically spring apart.

“Oh, uh, this is my son, Bradley,” Pete introduced the younger man, reaching nearly comically up to wrap an arm around Bradley’s shoulders.

“Nice to meet you, Bradley,” she replied, trying to recollect herself while her mind acted like it was the first time she’d interacted with a good-looking man.

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

“I look that bad, do I?” she chuckled.

“Just the way he was raised,” Pete proudly said, patting his son on the back.

Embarrassingly, she just then remembered the reason she was here. “Oh, I—I actually had a few questions for you, Pete, about the P-51, because I’m writing a book, and I wanted to get some details.”

His eyes lit up. “Details about this old girl, huh?

I can do that; come on, let me show you around.” He moved to the side of the aircraft and gestured grandly. “Bianca here’s a Dallas-built North American P-51K, with a Packard V-1650-7 engine and an 11 foot diameter Aeroproducts propeller.

She was donated to the Civil Air Patrol in 1946, and I acquired her in 2001.

I’m not sure if she ever saw combat, because her military flight logs were lost, but I know for a fact that she routinely patrolled the California skies way back when.

Let me show you the controls.”

He nimbly boosted himself up to the wing and held his hand out to her. “Come on up.”

“Uh, is this a wise decision?” she asked, glancing between his hand and the wing. “She is nearly eighty-years-old.”

Pete laughed, “She’s stronger than she looks, and these girls were made to withstand this sort of thing, come on.”

Deciding to trust his judgment, she took his hand and jumped up to the wing at the same time as he pulled her up, causing extra momentum which propelled her body into his.

He caught them on the edge of the cockpit, and after a second, she realized that she was pressed up against his body, both hands resting against his…very solid chest.

She prayed that her suddenly pounding heart and the burning flush on her cheeks could be discounted as a reaction to her stumble.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, scrambling back to put some distance between them for her sanity’s sake, while trying not to fall off either wing edge.

“Eh,” he waved off, “that’s my fault, I should have said I’d pull you up,” as he shifted to kneel on the wing. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied breezily, “I believe you were about to show me the controls?”

“Mm-hmm, come here.”

They slowly adjusted themselves into a configuration that enabled them both to see into the cockpit, and he pointed out the many gauges—explaining each one—and the literal stick stick, which looked nothing like the controls of any aircraft she’d seen in person or in the movies, as well as her general flight capabilities and technical specifications.

A further glance to the right showed something she didn’t expect to see. “I thought the P-51 was a single seat aircraft?”

Pete absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck, “They are—I made a… few modifications.”

“Oh.”

“You want to sit in her?” he offered, gesturing to the pilot’s seat.

She was not about to pass up an opportunity like that. “I—wh—sure!”

He carefully helped her into the cockpit, and once settled, she breathed in and out while she absorbed this moment, and imagined her granduncle sitting in a seat similar to this one, looking out at the boundless sky. “Wow,” she reverently murmured.

“I know, right?”

“This is amazing, that aircraft like this is still around and still flying, I mean—this is history,” she said, getting slightly emotional.

“It is; she is.”

After a few beats longer, she sighed, and reached for his hand so she could get out, and he carefully eased her out of the cockpit, onto the wing, then both of them back onto the ground.

“Thank you, for showing me around, this was really helpful, Pete, I think this really helped me.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded easily. “If I may ask, what kind of book are you writing?”

For the briefest second, she instinctively recoiled from the idea of telling the story, but then, some part of her heart said that Pete Mitchell was someone she could tell this story to. “It’s uh, a fictional version of my granduncle Joe’s love story; he was a P-51 pilot during World War II, and he was in love with a woman in the French Resistance named Céline.” She turned to look at Bianca’s gleaming fuselage. “But they both died in the war; she was killed by the Germans, and he got shot down saving his wingman soon after.

I never even knew until my first year of college, when my grandfather told me the story through the love letters my granduncle and Céline wrote.

When my grandfather was dying, I told him that I wished they had a happy ending, and… well, he told me to write it for them, since I was an English major.

So here I am,” she shrugged, turning to face Pete.

He looked grave and touched. “That’s… that’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, I have to admit, I’ve wondered if what I was doing was disrespectful.”

“I know quite a few people who deserved happy endings that didn’t get them,” he glanced into the distance, a wistful, pained look in his eyes. “If I can help at least two people who didn’t have their happy endings in this world get it somehow, I’m more than willing to help.”

She sincerely replied, “Thank you for the validation,” wondering what his story was.

“You’re welcome.

And uh… you know what?

Gimme a second.”

He leapt back onto the P-51’s wing, and rummaged through the cockpit, pulling out a flight log book and a pen, hastily writing something on a page, before he tore it out, and leapt back down.

“Here, it’s my number—if you had any more questions, feel free to call, I’d be happy to answer them.”

If she had been placed in a similar situation as this maybe twenty years ago, she’d have probably done something to embarrass herself, because this—things like this didn’t happen to her—they only happened in movies, but here she was.

He gave her his number—yes, it was if she had any research questions, but still.

‘Get a grip, woman, just because you didn’t see a ring doesn’t mean he isn’t in a relationship,’ she told herself, trying to project “Respectable Professional Woman”, while her inner adolescent was trying its level best to come out.

“Th—thank you,” she managed to get out, with only a minute stammer on the first syllable.

“I’m serious, call if you need anything—I mean—there’s not a lot of people out there who can tell you what it’s like to actually fly one of these beauties.”

“Be careful,” she chuckled, already determined not to call unless it was absolutely dire, “You don’t know if I might take you up on that offer.”

“It’s what I gave you my number for,” Pete winked, and she commended herself for keeping it together.

Deciding to quit while she was ahead, and while she still seemed like a normal human being, she came in for final approach, as her dad would put it, with, “Alright—I better go, I’ve already taken too much of your time.”

“It’s fine, it’s always a pleasure to talk to someone about this girl.”

“Thank you again,” she stated, honestly grateful, feeling the creative juices flowing and simmering in the background.

“You’re welcome.”

And with that, she walked away, exhaling evenly for so many reasons.

That night, she wrote and wrote just as she expected, and the story was flowing.

That is, until she hit another wall just before the next weekend.

And this one was even more stubborn than the first.

It didn’t help that she had written herself into a corner with this dogfight scene she was on—she had no way of knowing if the tactics were sound, and she was thinking of completely cutting it, but it seemed so stilted without it, and she had no idea of how to avoid writing this scene.

But one part of that thought, she realized, wasn’t true.

Her gaze landed on her coffee table.

The sheet of flight log paper with ten numbers written on them stared tauntingly back at her, daring her to call Pete.

“Nope, no, I am not going to do it,” she told herself. “No—absolutely not.

I’m sure he has better things to do than answer stupid questions.

No—I will not call him.”

The paper raised a nonexistent eyebrow.

“No!” was her battle cry, and she turned back to her laptop screen, but it offered no relief.

The depressing reality of her blinking, unmoving cursor cackled at her in harmony with the flight log paper.

It was like that healthy cereal ad from years ago, with the little girl in a prim uniform, enticingly calling “Donuts?”

However, after ten more minutes, the dictatorship of the blank page grew too cruel and harsh, and she folded like a house of whatever was more insubstantial than cards.

“Fine,” she muttered, snatching up the paper. “I’ll call, but if he doesn’t answer, it’s no skin off my back—I’ll manage… somehow.”

At least that’s what she told herself.

She dialed the number, heart pounding as the phone rang…

And rang…

And rang.

She was just about to breathe a sigh of conflicted relief and hang up, but then the line clicked, and she heard a slightly breathless “Pete Mitchell.”

“Hi,” she blinked, cursing herself for not thinking through what she was going to say. “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at the Apple Valley Airshow—”

“__, right?

The writer.”

“Yeah, that’s me, you said I could call if I had any questions,” she scratched her head.

“Uh-huh.

I’m guessing you have one,” she could hear the smile in his voice.

“More like a lot, really.

I’ve unfortunately written myself into a corner, it’s this dogfight scene, and there’s no way I can currently remove it without sacrificing practically all of my progress since last week.

I just need to know if the tactics are sound.”

“Huh.”

“I—you know, I can figure it out myself, if it’s too much trouble—”

He interrupted, “No, it’s no trouble, I’m more than willing to help, in fact… uh, this might sound—weird and uncomfortable—or—both, really, but if you want, why don’t you come out to my hangar tomorrow, we can talk about this, rework your scene if we need to, without having to do video calls or text or email.”

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes wide.

“I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything,” he chuckled.

“I—thank you for the reassurance, by the way—but I mean, that’s a lot of confidence in how well I can write a dogfight.”

“It can’t be all that bad,” he assured.

“I’ll just prepare to be ripped to shreds,” she half-teasingly replied.

Pete snorted. “Even if it were that bad, I wouldn’t rip it to shreds—I save that for my new students.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know what’s worse, being torn apart or the porcelain treatment.”

“How about a balance, then?”

“I’d be very happy with that.”

“So… is that a yes to coming out to my hangar?”

“I… suppose it is,” she replied, before she could convince herself otherwise.

She was a mature, responsible adult, and she was capable of being said mature, responsible adult.

(And if time permitted, she was even capable of looking respectfully, when he wasn’t watching.)

(She was only human, after all.)

“Perfect, I’ll send you the address; I have to warn you, it’ll probably be a bit of a drive, is that okay?”

“That’s fine, after all, where else will I find someone with experience flying the P-51?”

“You could always try the local VFW post,” he joked.

“What are the odds my local VFW has a former P-51 pilot?

I’ll go with the expert I’ve already met.”

“Alright, alright, I already agreed to help, no need to butter me up,” he lightly said, humorously.

“Just send the address,” was her amused response.

And that was how she found herself on US-395 North making the three-and-a-half hour drive from her apartment in San Bernardino to the Mojave, praying that she wouldn’t somehow make a fool of herself today.

To be continued…

Next Part

Was part of this story inspired by Atonement?

Maybe.

I didn’t really have the movie in mind when I wrote the plot device, but I realized the similarity after the fact.

Analog flight computer

USAAF

Band of Brothers

The Apple Valley Airshow takes place every year in the town of Apple Valley, located in San Bernardino, California.

(I considered setting this story at the annual Miramar Airshow, which takes place at MCAS (formerly NAS) Miramar, but I imagine that Mav would probably want to avoid going to MCAS Miramar for obvious reasons.)

Roundel

I don’t think that most pilots would do very daring aerobatic stunts in a plane as old as the P-51, just because she’s a darn P-51, and she’s a flying piece of history, but this is Mav, he absolutely knows what his girl can handle, I’m sure he knows how to make something look more crazy than it actually is, and bottom line, let’s just suspend our disbelief, 😂.

Did I introduce Mav in that way just so I could use that gif?

Probably absolutely.

It’s a great shot, and I do not blame me.

“You in danger, girl.” Timestamp 1:35

All the information about the P-51 is taken from the information available about the model and history/registration of Tom’s P-51, except for the details of her name and the military flight logs being missing, as the history available for N51EW never mentions if she saw actual WWII combat.

She is registered in the FAA database with the serial number 44-12840, and her name since 2006 has been “Kiss Me Kate”.

(I know why she’s named this, and it hits something in my heart that Tom never bothered to rename her.)

Her name in this story will be explained later, but those who follow me on my main blog, @oh-great-authoress, might have a hunch as to why I named the P-51 “Bianca”.

The ad I mentioned was a real Kellogg’s Special K ad.

VFW

The travel time between San Bernardino and Mav’s hangar is estimated using the travel time from San Bernardino to NAWS China Lake, and then a further hour and twenty minutes from there.

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

#not me 👀 at men literally old enough to be my father #but my reader DEFINITELY is—and he’s not old enough to be HER father #bahaha 🤣#top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun: maverick fic #top gun maverick fic #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #tom cruise

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year

Text

Handyman - Maverick

Pairing: (Young) Maverick / Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Maverick Being Maverick; Maverick and Reader have an Unnamed Daughter Together; Second Person POV ("You"), No Y/N, No Physical Description of Reader or Daughter

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: When it comes time to give your newborn daughter a bath in the kitchen sink, it conveniently breaks. Fortunately or unfortunately, Maverick is a handyman.

A.N. I wrote this with a younger Maverick in mind, maybe even before he attended Top Gun, but there's no actual age specified for anyone (except the baby).

Master List

Life with Pete Mitchell as your husband was always an adventure. From the moment that you met him to the present day, he always had you on your toes. Sometimes, it was a great attribute. There were a lot of memories from spontaneous dates and outings that you would treasure for the rest of your life. Other times, you could have done without the arrogance and spontaneity.

Your husband, although he had no skills in the field whatsoever, was a self-proclaimed handyman. The house that you two lived in was a fixer upper and your husband was intent upon fixing it up. Of course, your newborn daughter got in the way of that goal and you had to reprioritize.

But now the kitchen sink wasn’t working and you had no other safe way to bathe your newborn. You would have called a plumber to fix it, but it was a national holiday. You were willing to wait another day to let a professional take a look at your kitchen sink. Your husband, however, insisted that he could fix it himself without any outside help.

And you were already regretting giving him the ‘okay’ on that one.

The cabinets underneath the sink were thrown open and an assortment of tools and other devices were spread out on the kitchen floor. Maverick poured over a manual that he pulled out of nowhere while you stood with your daughter a few feet away.

“Are you sure that you understand it, Mav?” you asked softly, looking concerned. “Maybe we should just wait to have a professional look at it.”

“No, no, no, she needs a bath, so she’s going to get a bath. Today.” Maverick stared down at the directions for a moment before holding them up for you to see. He pointed at one part in particular. “But do you know what this thing is?”

“Do I look like a plumber to you?” you replied in a deadpan, raising an eyebrow at your husband.

“I’ll figure it out.”

Your daughter started to cry and with a quick check of her clean diaper, you moved to feed her. Sitting down at the kitchen table, you glanced over as Maverick messed around with the pipes underneath the sink. Shaking your head, you turned back to your nursing daughter. Up until there was a crash followed by a set of curses from under the sink.

“Are you okay?” you called to your husband.

“Fine. Just fine,” Maverick grunted out, clearly in some pain.

After feeding and burping your daughter, you set her down in her bassinet before walking over to where Maverick was still working on the sink. Noting the gunk all over the front of his white tank top, you took another step forward and lowered your voice.

“Pete, honey, it’s okay if you can’t fix it. I’ll just call them tomorrow.”

“I’ve got this. I just need another moment,” he replied, clearly determined to fix this problem. Thinking over his next steps, Maverick gestured behind you. “Can you pass me the wrench?”

“Which one? You have the whole store selection littered around the kitchen floor.”

“The one with the yellow tape on it,” Maverick clarified, pointing over at it.

You pushed the wrench over to your husband and leaned against the kitchen countertop, watching him work. You glanced back in your daughter’s direction to make sure that she was sleeping peacefully when Maverick dropped the wrench and let out another long string of curses. You whipped around to face Maverick as your daughter let out a startled and annoyed wail.

“Mav? What happened?”

“I dropped the wrench on my face,” Maverick sighed, rubbing his nose.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, honey, I’m peachy,” Maverick muttered, clearly getting frustrated.

When you saw that your husband wasn’t bleeding, you walked over to soothe your daughter. Leaning over, you tried to shush your daughter as you rocked her once again.

“I know, I know, your daddy isn’t a plumber, I know,” you cooed, trying to soothe your baby.

She settled back to sleep easily, clearly in need of a nap, and you placed her back in her bassinet once her breathing evened out. Adjusting your daughter’s hat, you turned back to your husband.

“How’s it coming, honey?”

“Don’t rush perfection.”

“Who said that it was going to be perfect?”

“Your handyman husband,” Maverick quipped, crawling underneath the sink again.

“Yes, I’m sure that every plumber drops his wrench on his face.”

“Laugh now, but when the sink works again, you’ll be so amazed and sorry that you ever doubted me.”

“I’m sure that I will,” you mused, walking back over to him.

Twenty minutes later, after some more tinkering around, Maverick stood up. Smiling proudly, he ushered you towards the sink.

“Try the tap.”

You shot your husband a concerned expression before walking over to the sink. Pulling the handle up, you waited for water to pour out of the faucet. But nothing came out. Your feet, on the other hand, were now soaking wet. Looking down, you saw the pipe spewing water all over your floor. You shot your husband a tired expression, to which he smiled sheepishly.

“Maybe I got the parts wrong,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You think?”

Maverick hastily mopped up the mess and went back to working on the pipes. You put the TV on low and kept a close eye on your daughter as she slept peacefully in her bassinet.

“I got it, honey!” Maverick announced about a half hour later.

“I swear, Pete, this is your last chance, otherwise I’m calling a plumber whether you like it or not,” you warned your husband as you got up and walked over to him.

“Just try it, will you?”

You walked over to the faucet once again and cautiously grabbed the handle. With one last cautious glance over at your husband, you pulled the handle upwards. And then you screamed as you were hit by a strong stream water. You were soaked to the bone in a few seconds from a leak that you couldn’t find because you were being sprayed with water.

“Pete!”

Your husband ran over and the both of you tried to stop the water from spraying all over the place. Maverick ripped off his shirt and shoved it around the faucet. You held the shirt in place while he hurried to turn off the water. When all was said and done, you were soaked to the bone and absolutely not amused with your husband.

Turning to Maverick, you took a deep breath as you tried to not strangle him. Wiping some of the water off of your face, you folded your arms over your chest as you husband smiled sheepishly at you, hoping that you didn’t pick up the frying pan within arm’s length and whack him with it.

“You’re lucky that I want our daughter to have a father, Pete Mitchell,” you muttered before waddling off to go shower.

“I love you,” Maverick called after you.

He was greeted by the sound of your bedroom door shutting, effectively ending the conversation. And his career as a plumber.

#top gun #top gun 1986 #pete maverick mitchell #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell x reader #pete mitchell #maverick x reader #maverick x you #pete maverick mitchell x you #pete mitchell x you #pete mitchell imagine #maverick

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shoot-the-oneshot · 2 years

Text

PAPER RINGS

Based on this idea with the ring from Purple Hearts.

The one where rooster can’t find the perfect ring

Hangman version Young Maverick version

“Woah!” Maverick yelled being pulled into an empty classroom, “Rooster?” He asked seeing the pilot start to pace once the door shut. “I need your help Mav.” Since Bradley could tie his shoes he hasn’t asked maverick for help so this spiked his stress levels. “It's Y/N.” Rooster mumbled out. “What happened to Y/N?” If Bradley was the son he never had you were the daughter he was incredibly protective over you.

“Something happened to Y/N!” Rooster froze worry overcoming his entire body as he quickly looked out the window where he knew your jet would be soaring through the air. “That’s what you said!” Maverick yelled, making Rooster throw his arms in the air. “No, I didn’t, you did.” The men quieted down the stress of something happening you calming. “What did you need help with?”

“I want to marry her.”

“Kid that’s great but why’d you have to stress me out first come here,” Maverick said pulling the other man into him for a hug wishing that Goose was here to see his boy all grown up. Rooster rolled his eyes at the last comment.

“Will you help me pick out a ring?” Maverick had never been so happy to be invited to a jewelry store before but for the two kids coming together he couldn’t wait. Until they got there, then he slightly regretted it he should’ve known really. Goose was the same way when he went shopping for Carols.

“Do you like any of these?” Maverick asked glancing down at the glass cases of engagement rings. Rooster looked silently. He knew for sure he wanted to marry you, but he had no idea what type of ring you wanted. Thinking back on it he really should’ve asked Phoenix.

“No, they’re just not right.” He sighed, shaking his head, he knew if his mom and dad were there they’d know exactly what to do. maverick who had never been married was just as lost as Bradley, but he tried his best, “just, Just look at the rings, and when you see one that makes you feel the way you do when you look at Y/N that’s the one.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” With his newfound outlook, he spent probably another two hours looking from ring to ring, and nothing felt right. “Can I see the last one again?” He sheepishly asked, he know that the poor saleswoman hated him even Mav, who was resting his head on his hands. His mom loved the ring his dad gave her wore it long after he died, and Rooster wanted you to love yours just as much. Setting the rings down he groaned rubbing his hands down his face.

“Kid you could give her a paper ring and shed say yes.” Rooster paused at his words an idea popping into his head. “ Thank you!” He yelled, pushing the rings back and pulling Maverick behind him out the door. “Am I missing something?” Mav wondered aloud watching Rooster run to the back of his bronco and pull out a toolbox.

“I don’t need to buy her something I need to give her something.” He mumbled paying half attention to what Maverick was saying. “You’re going to give her your dog tags?” He asked, Watching the young pilot put them out of his shirt and off his neck. Separating the smaller chain from the longer one. “Part of them.” Cutting the chain to the length he measured next to a ring he took from your nightstand. Smacking Maverick's hand away when he went to reach for it. “Don’t touch.” Of course, Maverick ignored him and picked it up anyways when Rooster was done with it.

“You stole her ring?” Rooster huffed cutting him a glance from what he was doing. “I borrowed it.” Mav nodded along. “Stole it.” He whispered, making the pilot huff

“It’s temporarily misappropriated!” Rooster barked going back to the task at hand, connecting the chain back together he slid the small loop onto his finger showing Maverick.

“What do you think?” Bradley felt more nervous now than he did in the jewelry store. Watching for any look that may come over his unofficial uncles face. A proud smile slid on his face looking from the makeshift ring and the other pilot shifting on his feet. “Y/n will love it.” Passing the ring back Rooster immediately started fiteling with it.

“Are you sure? I know it's basic but we can pick out the other ring together so she really likes it you know, and I always wished I had my dads tags, thanks for that by the way.” Maverick cringed,

“so maybe even when I’m away she still has a little piece of me to carry around.” He rambles making Mav grab him by both arms to get him to take a breath. “Kid it's perfect.”

“Are you sure, because she definitely deserves perfect.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“Are you okay babe?” You asked seeing your boyfriend shift in his seat for the thousandth time nice he picked you up. Not to mention his hand white-knuckling the steering wheel. His head snapped over to you, quickly going back and forth between you and the road. “What? Yeah, I’m fine just looking forward to tonight.” Patting your knee than going straight back to the wheel. Normally his hands never left you so his behavior was confusing you a bit.

What you didn't notice was rooster had changed his shirt five times before driving to get you, he even had his second choice in the back in case he changed his mind. Maverick had brought Penny over during his spiral for a pep talk thinking shed help the young pilot better than he could. It slightly helped.

“We’re going to follow them right?” Penny whispered watching rooster pull off. “Of course we are I’m not missing this.”

Pulling up to the beach Rooster pulled you back when you went to step out of the car, pressing a kiss to your empty ring finger he asked you to wait while he set up.

Watching him running with arms full of baskets and bags made you giggle when he tripped a bit, sand and running not really mixing well.

Spreading out the blanket and fighting against the ocean breeze he managed to get all the candles lit, surrounding it with the flowers he hid there earlier. He had all your favorite foods there too. So you could celebrate if you said yes, or could drown his sorrows if you said no. Taking a few steps back and looking at his set up he nodded “talk to me dad.” He whispered, taking a breath before going back to get you.

“My lady.” He spoke in a playful British accent helping you out of the car. Making you let out that laugh he fell in love with hearing. “What do you have planned this evening Sir Bradshaw?” You asked playing along as you walked hand and hand down the path. His set up still out of view. “Picnic on the beach and watching the sunset sound good to you?”

“Perfect.” You leaned up to press a soft kiss against his jaw. God, he really hopes you think so. Before you both got any closer he pulled you to a stop. “You mind?” Holding up a bandana he didn't need to explain what he wanted. ‘Must be some picnic huh.”

With the bandana secured he carefully led you farther on the beach stopping you once you stood in the middle of the blanket. Not releasing your hand as he knelt on one knee in front of you. “You can take it off now.” You gasped seeing him on one knee. Looking up at you with the most love you’ve ever seen come from a person.

“Y/n, I said I fell in love with you at first sigh the night we met, but know all this time I spent with you I realized that’s not true.” He paused to collect himself seeing the tears start shimmering in your eyes, “every second I see you I fall more in love its love at every sight, every thought, every moment I spend with you makes me fall deeper and deeper in love with you and I want to love you for the rest of my life, will you give me that chance and marry me?”

pulling the chain ring out of his pocket he held it between you, you quickly nodded your head the second he asked, “Yes, yes yes!” Excitement flooded his entire body at your words and he stood to pull you into him and spun you around. “She said yes!” He shouted to no one in particular. Caressing his face you pressed your lips together a little awkwardly since neither of you could wipe the smiles off your faces.

Setting you back on your feet, he shakily slid the ring on your finger. “We will get you a diamond obviously but I didn’t want to pick it out without you.” You breathlessly laughed shaking your head fondly at your new fiancé. “It’s perfect I love it!”

Your moment of staring into each other's eyes broke as you both heard clapping.

“Oh god.” Rooster groaned hiding his face in your neck as you laughed, watching Maverick's eyes widened realizing they’ve been caught giving a shy wave as Penny beamed. You felt Rooster chuckle against you before he straightened up holding your left hand in his raising it. “We’re getting married!”

Hi!! Hope you guys liked it let me know in the comments and check out my TopGun masterlist for more. And let me know who’s version you want next in the comments Hangman or Young Mav

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

Note

shark should rlly drop whatever it is in her drafts about tom / mav now dont you guys thinks? 👀

If I'd listen to myself this account would be the lair of all my Tom Cruise fantasies 🥵 But for sure more Mav content is coming. I also plan to write his story with Shark but as Reader insert. Anyway, here is a little something to help you wait and to fulfill us; Tom Cruise's wives :B

Please like and/or reblog if ya liked it 💚

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

✨DADDY'S BAD KITTEN ✨

Summary: You see Mav wearing a suit for the very first time during Rooster's wedding, and it fucking turns you on

Words: 1.3k

Tags: pure smut, unprotected sex, daddy kink, creampie, fluff, Mav doing a magic trick??? , self-indulgence

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Rooster's wedding had been a much-awaited event.

All the Dagger squad, alongside Penny, had helped the adorable engaged couple in their wedding preparations. Ridiculously anxious about the whole matter, Penny Benjamin took care of the most important aspects of the party and, fortunately enough, every single thing went according to her plans. She was a hell of an organizer.

"Oh my god, where's the key?" Amelia asked, awe-struck by Pete's silly little tricks. She looked at you, confused, then at her mother before shifting back her focus on Mav.

"I don't know, maybe... Here?" Pete snapped his fingers and the shiny golden key appeared miraculously between his thumb and index finger right in front of Amelia's astonished eyes. The teenager snatched the key from the Captain's hand and gazed at it very closely as if the trick's explanations were written on it.

"What the hell! How did you do that?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets" Mav teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

The whole sight was too adorable for your heart to handle. You've been flirting and sleeping with Pete Mitchell for one solid year, but it became official only a few weeks ago. Obviously, some were a bit surprised by your relationship, for you were twenty-five years younger than him - on top of being one of his students. Yet, everyone had been supportive, especially Penny. She knew he had fallen for you the first time she saw you talking together.

"So, did I impress you?" Mav cooed, catching your hips between his two large and warm hands. His face lighted up and his lips stretched in a wide toothy smile when his beautiful emerald eyes met yours.

"Hm?" It was all you managed to answer, for he had pulled you out of your thoughts. The lights were reflecting on his seductive face, rendering the green of his eyes lighter, and sublimating the lovely marks time left on his skin. Mesmerized by how good-looking he was, you had barely listened to him.

"You haven't heard what I said, right?" He chuckled and shook his head, knowing how dreamy you could be, "I wonder what occupies your mind..." He almost purred in your ear, kissing your cheek. He could not help but touch you. He was addicted to the feeling of your skin against his.

"I thought about you in that stupid suit. Seriously Mitchell, seeing you dressed like that turns me on so much it's torture to wait for the end of the wedding to feel you inside me..." You whispered, your words candy-coated with burning desire. Something snapped in Mav's brain, for he suddenly felt weak. He brought his warm lips to your forehead to lay a gentle kiss on it, and smell the intoxicating fragrance of your shampoo.

"Who asked you to wait?"

"Pete..." You retorted, one brow raised when he moved his head back to stare at your right in the eyes. His wide smile had turned into a small, seductive smirk, "Pete, no. We are at a wedding. We don't do that at a wedding..." Your voice broke at the sensation of his hands grabbing your hips with more fervor. Blood rushed between your legs at his arousing touch, "Don't give me that look."

"It's the only one I got, kitten." He quickly glanced around him to make sure no one would notice you, then he wrapped his muscular arm around your shoulders to leave the room.

Both of you were making out in the janitor's closet. Maverick was pinning you against the wall, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. You could feel his hard and fierce shaft slipping into your wet slit. Trying to hold your moan, you crashed your lips again his and parted them to let his fury tongue in your mouth. One of your hands ran through his perfectly combed brown hair while the other clenched on his back, your nails digging into the fabric of his blazer.

"You're so wet for Daddy." He whispered in a low voice, his charming smile making you blush, "What a naughty kitten you are, wanting me to fuck you during your best friend's wedding..." Your skin heated up as you felt the smooth head of his cock pushing against your tiny wet hole. He thrust it slowly, to feel your pulsing walls stretch as he buried the thick tip in your weeping pussy.

"D-daddy don't tease... Please" You begged. He could feel your legs trembling around him. Your pleading brought a sadistic smile to his face.

" You know I love to tease you, to turn you into a crying and frustrated mess. Fuck, you can't imagine how I want you to beg for me to ruin your body. But gotta be quick, Shark." He purred, licking the corner of your lips in a wet and warm stroke of his tongue.

Mav invaded you in one brutal movement. His hard cock stretched your walls in one sudden thrust, making you roll your eyes and bit your lips not to yell with pleasure: "Oh Daddy! " You moaned, torn between the relief of his dick filling you entirely and the frustration of him not moving.

"Fuck I missed that tight, young pussy of yours kitten... " He growled, trying to keep a bit of self-control. He was so enamored and so aroused by you, that he tended to forget about everything else than the carnal urge he felt for you. His hips bucked, fucking your poor delicate flower with a brutal and merciless rhythm.

You almost sobbed at his violence, for he was hitting that spot that usually made you drool on the pillow, "Daddy, daddy, daddy!" Your moans were like a divine chant psalming your love for carnal lust. There he was, hypnotized by your mermaid's song, mixed with the delicious sound of flesh smacking, pussy crying, and his own growls. The sensual melody of your love filled the room.

Heat pooling in your belly, you tried to chase your upcoming climax to keep Captain Mitchell's hard cock a bit longer inside you - it felt so good to have him buried deep in your cunt that each time he pulled out something broke in your soul. You felt empty.

"Oh fuck, Kitten... " He gasped in pleasure, breath hitching and hips snapping. You felt his cock throbbing inside your walls and you knew he was about to cum.

"N-No Mav, don't! We are at a ..." You begged but he was not listening. Maverick moaned louder and, arching his back, he filled your hole with his warm cum in one final thrust. The sensation of his hot and milky seed made your toes curls in your heels. You threw your head back and cried as a hell of a climax almost knock you out. You panted, stars dangling in your vision, as your body cool down. You felt like you were floating.

"Good girl, Shark. Daddy's proud." Mav praised you and pulled out. Cum soon overflowed from your weeping pussy, forming long milky streams which ran down your thighs. You were back on your shaky legs, fighting not to collapse on the ground.

"We need to go back, they are about to bring the cake." He said, buckling his belt without looking at you. You shook your head.

"Wait, I can't go back like that! I'm... " Words are stuck in your throat.

"Your cunt is drooling with cum, I know." Mav raised one brow and smiled, a wide smile with perfect white teeth. You tried to reach your panties but he is quicker, and hid them in the pocket of his blazer, "Nope, you don't need that. I want you to come back to the room and have fun, acting like you are not filled like the bratty slut you are."

"But- but-" You panicked, and he gently caressed one of your blushed cheeks with his thumb.

"Keep your legs closed, Kitten. And I hope it will teach you not to call me Mav during sex. It's Sir or Daddy. Nothing else. Understand?"

"Yes Sir," You whispered.

Notes: this was inspired by the 2017 interview of Tom Cruise in the Quotidien. It's about 26 minutes long, and I only squealed for 25 minutes teeheeeeeee~ Seriously gimme that man pls

#Pete mitchell x reader #Top gun maverick imagine #Tom cruise #Top gun x reader #maverick x reader #Pete Maverick Mitchell x reader #Top gun maverick fanfic #Tom cruise fanfic #Tom cruise x reader #top gun #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick imagine #pete mitchell fanfic #pete maverick mitchell fanfic

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justabigassnerd · 1 month

Text

Protective Friend

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader

Word count - 2,182

Warnings - physical violence, mentions of cheating, blood, angst, mentions of Goose, fluff

Summary - after someone picks on Bradley one too many times, you handle the situation and secretly impress your father

A/N - it's been a minute huh, y'all? I think I'm doing a bit better (no promises), so maybe I'll be uploading more fics. anyway I won't bore y'all with a long A/N so as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy

Growing up alongside the Bradshaw family, it was basically inevitable that you would become best friends with Bradley Bradshaw. After all, you’d practically known the family since birth with your dad working alongside your Uncle Goose and it had devastated you when Goose died, understanding the finality of it all even at a young age. After Goose passed you made even more of an effort to be a good friend to Bradley, doing your best to keep a smile on his face.

However, the kids at your school were not nearly as kind. They had found out that Goose had died one day during an activity in the build-up to the summer holidays where your teacher gave you the freedom to make Father’s Day cards to store somewhere safe until the day came and Bradley had innocently asked your teacher what he was supposed to do. When the teacher had crossed the room to crouch down alongside him to ask why he couldn’t write a card for his dad, some kids had overheard him saying that his dad was dead and apparently thought it was the funniest thing to them. The teasing started off light before it got worse, but you could tell it bothered Bradley all the same, especially given the sensitivity of the topic. You ended up telling your dad about the teasing and bullying and without hesitation, Maverick had gone straight to Carole to make sure she was aware as well. Carole, of course, wasted no time going to the principal and telling him about how he needs to be doing better in making sure the bullies get punished.

When the principal did nothing about it, nonchalantly saying he couldn’t control kids’ actions, Carole went and tracked down the parents of the kids who were picking on Bradley after you gave them their names. Once again, Carole reached a brick wall as when she spoke to the various parents of the kids, they just shrugged her off and said that both Bradley and Carole needed to stop being so sensitive over something that happened years ago and that a bit of friendly teasing wasn’t hurting anyone so according to them, Bradley simply had to man up and learn how to take a joke. It took everything within Carole not to slap anyone when she heard the same answer multiple times. Her son was being bullied and no one was doing anything about it when this was the time to step up and do something. She didn’t care if had been ten minutes or ten years since Goose’s passing, he was still Bradley’s father, and her son was allowed to mourn the loss he suffered.

When Carole next met up with Maverick and filled him in on what had happened, Maverick immediately offered to give it a try himself, more than willing to be assertive and to even drag Iceman into it if needed. Carole told Maverick not to worry about it, and that he probably wouldn’t get much further than she did, even with Iceman.

“Do you want me to sleep with their wives?” Maverick had jokingly suggested which resulted in Carole hiding her giggle as she lightly slapped Maverick on the shoulder.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She replied, continuing to laugh as Maverick shrugged jokingly.

“All I’m saying is I could give them the best night of their lives, end it then and there and then ruin their marriage. That’ll teach them for picking on Bradley.” Maverick says nonchalantly, leaning back against the sofa with a grin.

“Mav, I love you, but no you can’t ruin people’s marriages over this.” Carole says as Maverick holds his hands up in mock surrender, both of them chuckling lightly.

“It was a good idea though.”

A couple of days later, one Saturday morning, you managed to coerce Maverick into taking you to the local playground and when you asked if Bradley could come with you and so he walked you over to the house just down the road and asked Carole if Bradley wanted to come to the park with the two of you. Carole was of course extended an invitation to join you all, but she politely declined, saying she had housework she needed to do. Now with Bradley in tow, the three of you make your way to the park, entering the gated park and both of you immediately head over to the swings while Maverick sits himself on a bench just outside of the park, watching you play with a soft smile.

However, at the most crucial moment, Maverick found himself distracted by a pair of attractive women who smiled flirtatiously at him as they passed, deciding that since both you and Bradley were happily playing in the park, he had the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation with them.

In the park, a boy that was in your grade named Johnny decided he wanted to pick on Bradley, calling over to him and once again picking on him for the fact his dad was dead the moment, he realised you had crossed the park to talk to another one of your friends.

“Stop it.” Bradley said firmly, standing from the swing and attempting to stand up for himself against the bullies.

“What are you going to do? Tell your dad?” Johnny said before eyeing the way Bradley’s hand clenched around something hanging on his chest.

“What’s that?” He then asked teasingly, eyes glinting with glee as Bradley took a step back, fist tightening around the dog tags that once belonged to his dad. With nothing more than a look exchanged between them, Johnny’s two friends put a hand on Bradley’s shoulders and forced him to the floor, while Johnny pried Bradley’s hand open and removed the precious dog tags from around his neck, inspecting them and chuckling to himself.

“Goose? What kind of stupid name is that?” Johnny says, reading the callsign displayed on the tags.

“Give them back!” Bradley cries out, attempting to get up and grab his dog tags but Johnny’s friends were quicker, forcing down on his shoulders harder to prevent him from moving.

Across the park, you had heard Bradley’s demand and so glanced over and immediately removed yourself from your conversation and immediately rushed over to Bradley’s defence, taking less than a second to realise what it was Johnny had stolen.

“Give it back, Johnny!” You say firmly, holding your hand out expectantly and gritting your teeth when Johnny just laughs in your face.

“And why would I do that?” He taunts, sniggering as he glances over at his friends who laugh too.

“Because you’re not going to like what I’m going to do next.”

Just as Maverick was bidding goodbye to the two women, making sure to give each of them a cheeky wink as they went, he turned to look back at the park and instead came face to face with a rageful-looking mother who had a boy alongside her who was holding a tissue up to his bleeding nose.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” The woman all but yells in Maverick’s face, barely giving him space to breathe, let alone process what she is saying.

“I’m sorry, what?” Maverick says, trying his best to calm the tension. He had recognised the kid instantly; you had pointed him out to your dad one afternoon when you had first told him about the bullying.

“Your brat of a daughter punched my sweet Johnny for no reason! I can’t believe you’d raise a child to think that’s okay.” The mother says, glaring at Maverick who takes a moment to glance over at you where you were crouching down alongside Bradley, clearly talking to him before taking a moment to look over at your dad with a worried expression.

“y/n wouldn’t hit someone.” Maverick says, getting up from the bench to be more level with the woman.

“She punched him!” She repeats, even louder and begins to get looks from people surrounding them.

“Okay, okay, cool your jets. I’ll speak to her.” Maverick says, waving his hand dismissively before crossing to the park gate, opening it and catching your eye before gesturing you over and waiting patiently for you to approach.

“Hi, dad.” You mumble, glancing down at your shoes to avoid looking Maverick in the eye.

“Hey squirt. So, I heard you punched that Johnny kid. Want to tell me what happened?” Maverick says, crouching down to be at your level and gently encouraging you to look at him. You mumbled something in response but none of it was audible to him.

“You gotta speak up kiddo.” Maverick encourages gently, reaching out and resting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing lightly, silently promising you he wouldn’t get upset.

“He took Uncle Goose’s dog tags from Bradley.” You say, a little louder so that Maverick can hear you. Upon hearing the reason you had lashed out; Maverick knew he couldn’t be mad at you at all, but he also knew he had to try and dissuade you from using violence in the future.

“Okay, sweetheart, you can’t punch people. I understand why you did it but if you’re ever in a situation like this, you come and get me, Carole, Ice, whoever. We’ll sort it out. I’m sure you did try but make sure you use your words. Punching people isn’t okay, no matter what it is they do.” Maverick says softly, watching as you carefully take in his words, nodding softly.

“Yes, daddy.” You say before Maverick gently pulls you into a hug.

“Go and grab Bradley and get ready to head back home. I’ll speak to Johnny’s mother.” Maverick says quietly before releasing you from the hug, letting you go over to Bradley then standing up and heading back over to Johnny and his mother.

“I didn’t see you disciplining your daughter. How do you know she won’t do it again?” Johnny’s mother says firmly, gripping her son’s shoulder and pulling him closer to emphasise the injury.

“I spoke to her, and she knows it’s wrong. But she did tell me that your son took something that was special to not only Bradley, but his family and my family too. And when your son clearly refused to give it back, she did what she thought she had to do. She won’t do it again, but I won’t say she wasn’t justified.” Maverick explains, folding his arms across his chest and raising an eyebrow as he anticipates her freakout.

“She hurt my son and you’re saying it’s justified?” The shock and horror was painted all over her face as she yelled at Maverick.

“I’m not going to lie to you and say she wasn’t justified in what she did. Your kid stole something special from Bradley and has been bullying him for a while. You have refused to teach your kid better so no I will not punish her for standing up for her friend.” Maverick says firmly, deciding then and there that the conversation is over and turning to find you and Bradley.

“Come on you two, we’re heading home!” Maverick calls over to you and Bradley and when you and Bradley rush over to him, he wraps an arm around each of your shoulders and ushers you away from the woman and her son and begins the walk home. First, you drop Bradley off at his house, both of you greeting Carole as she opens the door. Just before Bradley heads inside, and while Maverick is explaining what happened earlier to Carole, Bradley turns to face you with a small smile.

“Thank you for getting my dog tags back.” Bradley says softly, making you smile before hugging Bradley.

“You don’t need to thank me.” You insist gently, squeezing Bradley softly before releasing him from the hug and letting him head inside with Carole while Maverick wraps an arm around your shoulders and encourages you to head home with him.

When you make it home, Maverick guides you into the living room and asks you to stay put while he grabs you an icepack. He soon returns with an icepack in hand, sitting down alongside you and taking the hand you had punched Johnny with and placing the icepack on the knuckles, biting back a frown when you wince slightly.

“This should help with any swelling.” Maverick says tenderly, his voice quiet as he lets you hold the icepack in place.

“Are you mad at me?” You question quietly, eyes fixed on the icepack to avoid looking at your dad.

“No sweetheart, I’m not mad. I do wish you had handled it a little differently, but I can’t be mad at you for standing up for Bradley.” Maverick admits, watching as you finally get the courage to look up at him.

“I wish I didn’t punch him. But it was satisfying.” You say quietly, a shy smile covering your face as Maverick lets out a soft chuckle before carefully pulling you into a hug.

“Well between me and you. I think he had it coming.”

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mitchellpete · 9 months

Text

KINKTOBER 2023

My first Kinktober and first ever writing challenge! (Wish me luck..) But I’m super excited to see you guys request! Kinks from this list, which was super intimidating (lol). First time I realize English not being my first language is kind of a nuisance because some of those I would have absolutely no clue how to write.. BUT ALAS. I picked these out and hope that they’re fun. Also hope you guys don’t mind that I filled one of them out already but I figured since I’m already writing it for an old request..

Will be updating this as slots get filled, so request away!

Characters I write for are here (plus Iceman who I kind of want to start writing for), but I’m very flexible so if you want to ask about any other characters, please do!

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

Day 1 - Overstimulation

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 2 - Public

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 3 - 69

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 4 - Thigh riding

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 5 - Spanking

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 6 - Cockwarming

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 7 - Blindfold

↳ Vincent | Collateral

Day 8 - Size

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 9 - Praise

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 10 - Handjob

↳ Cole Trickle | Days of Thunder

Day 11 - Cunnilungus

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 12 - Voyeurism

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky & Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun

Day 13 - Hate sex

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 14 - Virginity

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun

Day 15 - Dirty talk

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 16 - Begging

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun

Day 17 - Edging

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 18 - Mirror sex

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 19 - Orgasm denial

↳ Vincent | Collateral

Day 20 - Face sitting

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 21 - Deepthroating

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 22 - Creampie

↳ Tom “Iceman” Kazansky | Top Gun

Day 23 - Bath/shower

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 24 - Bondage

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 25 - Sex toys

↳ Ethan Hunt | Mission: Impossible

Day 26 - Brat taming

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 27 - Fingering

↳ Jerry Maguire

Day 28 - Uniform

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun

Day 29 - Table sex

↳ Pete “Maverick” Mitchell | Top Gun: Maverick

Day 30 - Squirting

↳ Brian Flanagan | Cocktail

Day 31 - Biting

↳ Lestat de Lioncourt | Interview with the Vampire

#pete mitchell x reader #maverick x reader #maverick x you #top gun maverick fanfic #pete maverick mitchell x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #tom cruise x reader #iceman x reader #tom kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky x reader #ethan hunt x reader #kinktober 2023

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worldofheroes · 8 months

Text

Unexpected

pete “maverick” mitchell x fem!reader

summary: you take a shower in Maverick’s office bathroom and something unexpected (but welcomed) happens.

warnings: 18+, language, unprotected sex

wc: 968

a/n: based on this request! oh my this is… something else 😅🥵😍

“Okay, y/c/s, that’s enough. It’s late. Head back to the tarmac,” Maverick says over comms.

“One more run?” you ask.

“No, Lieutenant. Land your plane, that’s an order.”

“Yes sir,” you mutter, turning your plane around.

After you land, you go through your post-flight checklist.

“Y/c/s,” Maverick calls out.

You stop and slightly turn your head.

“You’re doing great, you know that, right?” Maverick asks.

“I can do better.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself, y/n,” Maverick whispers.

“No promises,” you mutter.

Silence falls between the two of you.

“Listen, I just want to shower and head home,” you say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“The showers are on the other side of base,” Maverick states.

“Yeah, I know?” You furrow your brow.

“My office is right over here. Has its own bathroom. I’d rather you use that one than head across base at this hour.”

“Mav, it’s a military base, I’ll be fine.”

“Please,” Maverick says.

You pause, weighing your options. If you just go with him to his office, you’ll get home faster.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Lead the way.”

Maverick nods and heads towards his office. You follow a few yards behind him.

“The bathroom’s through there,” Maverick says awkwardly, motioning towards the door.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

You push the door closed, but it doesn’t close all the way, which you don’t notice.

You start to get ready for your shower, taking your hair down, brushing it, turning the shower on, and you start to undress.

After you pull your shirt off, you look in the mirror and make eye contact with Maverick, who’s watching you.

He looks away. You open the door a couple inches more.

His eyes meet yours again in the mirror. You pull your sports bra off, leaving you now topless in front of your instructor.

Maverick steps inside the bathroom, closing the door completely behind him. He moves closer to you.

Your breath hitches in your chest. Maverick pushes your hair back out of your face.

You start to pull his shirt off, and he helps you, tossing it on the floor.

His hands slide down the sides of your body, and start to undo your pants. Your hands also make their way down his body, doing the same.

The two of you pause there, studying each other.

You step out of your underwear, and Maverick follows your lead.

A whimper escapes you. Maverick closes the space between you, and his lips land on yours. A hand caresses your face.

“Maverick,” you whisper.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you, kissing you again.

“I need to shower,” you tell him softly.

He nods, moving his hand away from you.

You step in the shower, and shortly after, Maverick joins you.

Without realizing, you move closer to Maverick and wrap your arms around him, letting the water fall on the two of you.

You think you hear Maverick moan.

He kisses you again, pressing himself against you, and you can feel his hardening cock.

“Mav,” you whisper.

“You can’t blame me,” he says with a small smirk.

You smile slightly at the light-hearted comment. Your hand slides down his torso, and you wrap your fingers around his cock.

There’s no guessing that a moan comes from Maverick this time.

“Shit,” he mumbles.

“Do you want..?” You trail off of your sentence.

Maverick nods. “Can I?”

You nod.

Maverick gently pushes you against the tile of the shower. You gasp at the sudden coldness against your bare back.

He grabs one of your legs and lifts it up, holding on. Maverick presses the head of his cock against your center.

“Oh,” you moan. “Please,” you beg.

Maverick pushes into you.

You both moan in pleasure as he works you open.

“Fuck, Pete,” you say, throwing your head back.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he says, kissing your neck.

“You like it when I call you Pete?” you ask in a slightly teasing tone.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, burying his face into your neck.

“Then fuck me harder, Pete,” you say.

“Shit, yes ma’am,” Maverick practically growls as he thrusts harder into you.

You try to keep your moans quiet, but Maverick’s cock is hitting you just right.

“That’s it,” he encourages you.

“Oh, Mav,” you cry. “I’m gonna.. I’m gonna come.”

“Shit,” he mutters. “Where can I?”

“Fuck,” you moan. “I want your cum filling me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Pete, I want you to fill me.”

“Shit,” he mutters again.

His pace quickens even further, and you feel yourself reaching that edge.

A few more thrusts and you come undone, moaning in pleasure as Maverick reaches his orgasm moments later, cursing and saying your name.

When you both come down from your highs, Maverick kisses you, hard. He releases your leg from his grasp and you push your body against his.

“What are we going to do now?” you whisper.

“Haven’t thought about it yet,” Maverick replies, sucking on your neck.

“Mav,” you lightly scold him. “I don’t want any marks.”

“Mm,” he hums against you, now kissing your collarbone.

“Mav, seriously,” you tell him, pushing him away.

Maverick sighs. “I don’t know, y/n,” he mutters, not making eye contact.

The two of you stand in the shower in silence, the only noise being the running water.

“I still need to shower,” you mumble, looking away from your instructor.

“I’ll leave you be and try to think of something,” he says.

You nod.

Maverick leans in and pauses for just a moment before he kisses you again, this time softer and more delicate.

“I don’t think we made a mistake,” Maverick says as he steps out of the shower.

“I don’t know, Mav.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

You close your eyes, letting the water run down your body as you try to think of what to do next.

#tom cruise x reader #tom cruise imagine #top gun x reader #pete mitchell x reader #maverick x reader #maverick imagine #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell imagine #pete mitchell imagine #top gun imagine

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nykie-love-anime · 5 months

Text

Arachnophobic

Y/N: What’s your biggest fear? Pete: I am incredibly arachnophobic Y/N: - under their breath - Y/N: You don’t want spiders to get married?

Masterlist

#maverick x reader #y/n #reader #incorrect quotes #top gun #incorrect top gun quotes #pete mitchell x reader #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell x reader

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thewhiskersonkittens · 10 months

Text

Drive In

Pairing: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell (Present Day) x Female Reader.

Summary: After unsuccessfully navigating the crazy world of online dating apps, you meet Pete “Maverick” Mitchell and agree to go to a drive-in and perhaps you have finally met your perfect match.

Warnings: Fluff, romantic, some profanity, toxic dating app horror stories.

A/N: This was requested by Anon. Hope y’all enjoy! :)

Back in the day, Maverick considered himself to be quite the Casanova. It used to be so easy, come so naturally. Maybe because thirty years ago he was a lot younger and his jet black hair wasn't fading. His body was still firm and taunt, in his line of work it was a major priority to keep in shape, but his face had become worn, the skin around his green eyes now had wrinkles.

"You're still a very good looking man," Phoenix told him when she, Coyote, Payback, Bob, and Rooster was helping him make his dating app profile.

All eyes were on her when the aviator quickly added, embarrassed:

"Respectfully speaking, of course, sir!"

The guys chuckled while Maverick tried to hold back his amusement.

Coyote let out a low whistle.

"Ooo, Phoenix got the hots for Captain." He teased.

"I do not!" Phoenix defended. "And I swear to God, if this gets back to Hangman, I'll kill you."

She shot a death glare at Coyote, that made him straighten up quick. She shot the look to all the guys meaning business.

Maverick patted Phoenix on her shoulder to assure her it was OK.

"Thank you, Phoenix. I appreciate the compliment."

He held up his phone and returned his attention back to the profile.

"Are you guys sure this is the right thing to do?"

He wrinkled his brow. The whole process seemed so unnatural to him.

"If you filled out all the questions honestly the algorithm will try to bring you the best possible matches." Bob commented.

"But the algorithm doesn't get it right 100% of the time." Payback added, looking at Maverick.

"What do you mean?" Maverick asked.

"He means there might be a dud or two," Coyote answered.

"But still the odds are in your favor." Phoenix encouraged.

Maverick sighed as he closed the app and pocketed his phone. He was tired of thinking about it for now.

"There used to be a point in time when I could just sing to a woman in a club as a way of flirting."

"Sounds lame," Rooster finally chimed in.

Maverick gave him a pointed look.

"Lame, huh?” Maverick chuckled, the memories coming back to him. It all seemed just like yesterday but also a lifetime ago. “Guess who was my wingman?"

***

You were two seconds away from throwing your phone across the room. You'd do it, too, not caring if it broke, the only thing was you knew how much you needed the damn thing.

Stupid dating apps. After trying a month without them, you were having zero luck dating out there "in the wild" so, reluctantly, you downloaded the toxic app again, damn well knowing it would all still be the same old bullshit. If it wasn't some fake bot, it was just the same losers over and over you matched with. You were going to pull your hair out if another dude sent "wyd?" at 11 am on a Wednesday.

You wanna know "what I'm doing?", Chad?! You thought. I'm at work at this time, that's where I am! Why aren't you doing the same?!

You didn't even want to think about how you basically had the same conversation over and over with these guys.

"Hello, beautiful baby gurrl. Good mornin!'"

"Hi, there. Good morning."

"How you sleep last night?"

"Just fine, thanks. HBU?"

"It could have been better. I'd rather be waking up next to you, babyyy."

" ... "

"Send me a pic?"

"No."

"Why not? You shy?"

"..."

" Hello?!"

*incoming unsolicited dick pic*

"You like dat? You like what you see? ;)"

" ... "

"Dat could be alll yours and more! You wanna come over later?"

"I don't think so."

"Why not? It's not like I'm gonna kill you..lol"

"...."

"Sooo...you gonna come over or...I could come over there?!"

"No. I don't even know you! I just met you five minutes ago."

"Don't waste my time! Ya know, a lot of girls like what I got. You're lucky I'm even giving you the time of day!"

"..."

"K. Go text one of them then."

" ... "

"Man, fuck you, bitch. Your loss! I didn't want your ugly ass anyway. LOL."

You sighed. Why was trying to find your person so physically and mentally taxing? Some of your friends actually had good luck on the dating apps but it was just not working out for you. You thought about all your options: keep trying the apps, try in person again, hell maybe even switch teams?! The best option was the idea of becoming an old, single, crazy cat lady. At this point, it sounded like the most peaceful choice.

You were laying on your back on your bed with one arm slung over your eyes, trying to block out all your frustrations.

Your phone next to you vibrated, signaling you had a notification.

Oh great, You thought. Can't wait to see what this one's got to say.

You picked up your phone, punched in your pass code, and opened the app.

Pleasantly surprised was an understatement! You had matched with the most handsome man you'd ever seen on any app ever.

He was definitely older, much older you were sure of it, but the age gap didn't bother you. He only had a few pictures but you saw he had dark hair, green eyes, perfectly chiseled nose and jawline.

Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, USN.

As good as he looked, you couldn't help but have reservations. Living in San Diego, you had been on a few dates with military men before. They could be just as shady as the civilian Joe Blows, if not even more. Plus, he was way too fine looking to still be single. You tried not to judge. Divorced? Widowed? Perhaps he was looking for a last minute fling before his next naval cruise?

Your phone vibrated again and you saw he sent you a message.

"Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Pete Mitchell. But everyone calls me Maverick or "Mav".

"Nice to meet you! I'm Y/N." You typed back. "Cruise to any where fun lately, sailor?"

"What gave it away? The picture of me in my dress whites?"

"Not a bad picture, I must say." It was true. Technically he was old enough to be your father but he was still a smoke show. Silver fox, indeed.

"Ha, ha! Thanks. Ah, no fun cruises. I was recently called back to North Island for work."

You told him what you did for a living and you found out he was career military. A naval aviator for over thirty years. You kept chatting back and forth for the next two days and exchanged numbers. On Friday night Maverick called you.

"Look, I'll be honest with you, Y/N." Maverick explained. "This dating app thing...it's not really my style. My kids put me up to it. They said I needed to get out more and this is the way people do it nowadays. I just don't know..."

"Kids?" You repeated, slightly surprised he never mentioned it before. "You have kids?"

Maverick chuckled. "I'm sorry, I guess I should rephrase that. They're actually a squadron of Top Gun graduates I train. I call 'em my kids even though they're all about thirty-something years old."

You exhaled a sigh of relief. "Oh, I see."

"Anyway," Maverick went on. "How would you like to go out with me tomorrow night?"

You were pleasantly surprised again. Most guys you encountered on the apps were either one extreme or another. Some wanted to come over right away and others it was like pulling teeth to get them to actually take you on a real date.

"Is that OK with you?" Maverick asked.

"Oh, yeah!" You said. "Yes, that would be great! Dinner and a movie?"

"You read my mind," Maverick confirmed. "I was thinking I take you to the drive-in. They're doing an 80's movie theme night."

"Drive-in?" You repeated. You hadn't been there in ages. Maverick must have misunderstood your tone because he went to explain:

"Yeah, it's where they have a big outdoor projection screen and you pull up in your car..."

You burst out laughing.

"Pete," You started. "Come on. I know I'm younger than you but I do know what a drive-in is!"

Maverick laughed at himself.

"Sorry. Of course you do."

"That sounds like fun, Pete. Let's do it."

***

You knew you were breaking your own rules by allowing Maverick to pick you up but you felt like you could trust this man. Your jaw dropped when you saw the forest green vintage race car pull up in your driveway.

"She's a '56," Maverick explained as he helped you into the car. "She can go from zero to one seventy in about six seconds."

"Wow," You said, resting the bouquet he just gifted you in your lap. Out of curiosity, you ran your fingers along the dashboard. You'd never been in a car like this before.

Maverick started the car and began backing out.

"I usually just ride my motorcycle but this seemed more appropriate for the occasion."

You smiled. "I guess you have the need speed on the ground as well as in the air."

Maverick turned to look at you then as he shifted the car into drive and you weren't exactly sure how to describe it. It was like a mixture of surprise, curiousity, and a touch of sadness.

"Did I say something wrong?" You asked, concerned.

Maverick shook his head.

"No," He assured you. "It's just...so funny and...kind of weird you said that. 'The need for speed'. I haven't heard that in a long time. I had a friend I used to say that to. A long time ago. It was like...oh, what do you call it? Something that you and one other person knows?"

"An inside joke?" You suggested.

Maverick smiled. "Yeah," He agreed. "An inside joke."

"You don't talk to that friend anymore?" You asked.

"Oh, I do." Maverick replied. "I sure do. It's just...he's not here with us...physically anymore."

"Oh..." You realized and you felt a twinge of gulit in your stomach. This wasn't the best way to start off a date.

As if reading your mind, Maverick took one hand off the wheel and softly brushed the side of your cheek with the back of his hand. His hand felt callous, the result of decades of working on all sorts of aircraft, but it also felt strangely comforting. The feeling guilt in your stomach dissolved and felt something like butterflies replace it.

"It's OK, sweetheart," Maverick said and he really meant it.

After dinner, you two drove in the drive-in. A triple feature of John Hughes movies were playing. You and Maverick laughed when Kelly LeBrock turned Bill Paxton into a talking blob in Weird Science and cheered as Judd Nelson pumped his fist in the air at the end of The Breakfast Club. The final movie was Sixteen Candles and you couldn't help but sigh when Molly Ringwald finally got to kiss her dream guy.

"This is one of my favorite movies," You said.

"You like the romantic stuff, huh?" Maverick teased and you laughed.

"Yeah, I know it's cliche," You said. "But I can't help it. I'm such a sucker for it."

"Nothing wrong with that," Maverick told you. "Just between you and me...I'm a romantic myself."

He leaned in and kissed you and you couldn't help but smile against his lips.

When the two of you parted, your eyes fluttered open and you said:

"I know we just met but I feel so lucky to have found you. I was about ready to give up. The apps were driving me crazy."

Maverick rolled his eyes at the mention of the dating apps.

"I don't get them either," He said. "But I saw your picture and...I don't know. I just...thought you were really beautiful and I'm glad I met you, too."

You felt Maverick take your hand in his.

"If it's OK with you, would you see me again?"

You smiled and answered by kissing him again.

"Sure, I'd really love that."

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #pete maverick mitchell #pete maverick mitchell x reader #maverick x reader #fluff #reader insert

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jaidens · 4 months

Note

Can you do a pete mitchell fic based on you are in love by Taylor Swift

you are in love - pete mitchell.

Pete Mitchell was known for his absolute confidence in the sky. His smart mouth and snarky remarks that made his higher ups groan when they heard another report of Maverick causing conflict. This left him in an unstable position. With his understanding of himself, his friends, his coworkers, and his entire life. Whenever he did something wrong, he was stationed in another place in hopes he would change.

He met you when he was in his lower high. Pete wasn’t in his uniform. In a baggy white tee and a pair of jeans. Simple, but it was permanently engraved in your mind. He stood in the corner, talking to one of his old friends and gave you a smile from across the room. One meant just for you. It was at that point whenever the sparks were lit, and the love had exploded.

Here you are now, sitting on his couch after a burnt toast fiasco, drinking his coffee in his white tee. You felt undeniably safe, as if your fears had disappeared as he stared at you. Pete was someone that wasn't simple to understand; you enjoyed the idea of learning all about someone however. Pete paused drinking, set his coffee down, and pressed a kiss to the corner of your forehead and whispered. “Don’t tell Goose, but you’re my best friend.”

At that point you knew, he was in love.

You understand why people were so unable to explain their love. The idea of loving someone so much that it feels impossible seemed crazy to you. On the other hand, the idea of not loving Pete as much as you did seemed crazier. It was love, true love.

#top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #pete mitchell x reader #pete mitchell x you #pete mitchell x y/n #top gun 1986 #top gun

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sil-te-plait-tue-moi · 4 months

Text

You're killin' me!

Quick summary: Phantom and Maverick have had their fair share of head-butting – competition, ego and feelings don't mix well, apparently. Finally, however, they seem to reach a peace after a day on the beach.

Word count: 3K (getting into writing these shorter fits woo!)

Warnings: Kind of angsty but also you make out so like is it really that bad; allusions to smut; lots of swear words; yeah, not much for this, it's pretty PG.

A/N: YAYYY, I'm back, sort of but also not really but also ENJOY THIS FIC. Yes, technically it is an extract from an unfinished chapter of the mav x reader Wattpad story I'm halfway through writing (yes, I have a wattpad, it's called nonoitsnina), and maybe (BIIIIG emphasis on MAYBE) I will do a second part where y'all actually fuck and stuff but for now just take this. If anyone's still slinking around the Top Gun stuff, that is. Also, Bee is your RIO here. Just to preface. And Phantom (YOUR CALL-SIGN) shortens to Tommy or Tom from time to time but like if you read the Wattpad book (YES I KNOW I SOUND LIKE A SCARY 14 YEAR OLD) it makes more sense. OKAY ENJOY COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED HAVE A LOVELY JUBBLY DAY

***

Stupid smiles plastered bright across their faces, Bee and Goose are already dashing down the road, speed-walking like a couple of suburban mothers, one swathed in a beach towel and picnic blanket, the other lopsided with a half-empty cooler grasped in one hand.

I watch them go, brow furrowed, over my shoulder, slightly disconcerted.

“I guess they—” Mav pauses, then huffs, equally as confused, “—really wanted those ice-creams.”

Sure. That’s why they keep glancing back at us and giggling like idiots: ice-creams.

Maverick and I are strolling along the boardwalk back home – despite washing my feet at the tap, there’s still sand between my toes that tickles my skin with every step, but I could care less. He’d asked if I wanted us to take the bus—but I’d said no. Call me a loon (Bee certainly would), but, even after a full day of work—or play—nothing beats sitting outside in the quiet. Except sleep, I guess. But, when I can keep my eyes open, looking out a good view—and, boy, is this watercolour sunset some view—is perfect. After growing up in a city full of dust and cracks, I’ve embraced it: I’m gonna be one of those old ladies in a rocking chair on her porch, day and night, night and day.

Having just finished my own crêpe, I eat Maverick’s. When I ask him if he’s bothered by it, he tells me he’d bought them both for me in the first place.

Sweet. Y’know, I really thought I was a good judge of character. I had to be, to be fair, growing up, pursuing this career – you must always assume the worst until proven otherwise. That’s the safe way, and it’s served me well. Until it had me screaming and yelling at everyone. That’s not—right. It makes me absolutely nauseous.

So, all of these estimated traits, good and bad, have either been tossed or been filtered out.

It boils down to Maverick and his easy grin. He walks along the edge of the sidewalk, just looking at me with that goddamn easy grin. I’ve half a mind to slap him, just to give me a break from his attention. It makes me horribly self-conscious, forces a little thrill on me, like when you’re at the apex of a rollercoaster, just about to tip over. It feels like that, but it also feels like light streaming through a half-blinded window, so the warmth just collects there on the sill so that, when you touch it, you wish you could roll under it like a blanket. Of course, that warmth accumulates. I’m sweating. Like—a—pig.

Jesus, I want to scream into my hands with how good he looks. His dark hair is still slightly damp with seawater, stiff in some places and criminally soft in others. Every now and then, he’ll pull at the white button-up that sticks just a little to his chest, to the contours of his stomach, and fan the skin there. Jesus Christ. My hands are basically twitching to touch him there, to feel the heat of him beneath my palm, solid and beating gently with his heartbeat. I clasp my fingers very tightly around my fork, my crêpe slip, concentrating it all into one point.

I can’t tell if feeling like this is the best or the worst. Jesus, imagine if the other guys knew. They’d never shut up about it. Christ, they’d never take me seriously again. I don’t want to be the “girlfriend” – I want to be a formidable pilot. So many people just don’t think those two things can ever coexist.

Not that I want to be a girlfriend. I couldn’t say that word out loud without feeling wrong. I’m a lot of things, but I don’t know if I could be that.

A bike passes with an urgent ring of its bell, and Maverick twists his body in towards mine, hand hovering over my back, to push me out of the way from it.

I go blank, scrambling to remember where we were in the conversation, mouth dry.

“So, you’re telling me,” I begin, grinning, “going into Return of the Jedi, you hoped that Luke and Leia would end up together?”

Mav sighs and rolls his eyes, tearing off a little of what remains of the crêpe. ‘Well, at the time, I didn’t know they we’re fuckin’ siblings—”

“Maverick, that is incest.”

“Come on!” he laughs, and it’s the best sound in the world. “Goose thought so, too! Luke’s the main guy, so, like, it’s not not logical to think he’d get the main girl, right—?”

“But it’s Han Solo!” I exclaim, throwing my head back with a snort. He smiles down at me, eyes warm, in a way that I’m probably misinterpreting and will replay over and over in my head when I’m trying to sleep in bed tonight. “I thought you’d be a Han Solo kind of guy.”

“What, I remind you of him?” He tosses his head back and smoulders. I fake a gag.

“Well, he’s just—he’s just—” I trail off into laughter. “He’s really—I can’t explain it! If you ask any girl, she’ll know what I mean. Han Solo is so—” I giggle again, remembering how stunned and attracted to him I was when I first watched A New Hope in the theatre. “He’s just a lot of things.”

“Oh, yeah?—like what?”

Gosh, I can feel myself burning up – does he have to lower his voice like that? Does he have to try and catch my eye? God, it’s almost easier to hate him, to be honest – at least then I wouldn’t be acting like such a puddle.

“Like, charming and daring and, um—and clever, and—I don’t know. It’s just the way he speaks or something.”

He hums, hands in his pockets, his dad’s jacket draped over his forearm – I don’t think I’ve seen him go anywhere without that leather jacket. “And you like those things?” he pushes.

I bark out a laugh. “C’mon, Maverick, everyone like those things.” True enough – I could be blind and still fall in love with Han Solo and his smooth-talking. “And why Luke? Even if they weren’t siblings, why him? He had zero chemistry with—”

“Because he’s the chosen one!”

“—yeah, well, he—”

“He’s cool! Luke is objectively cool. He’s a pilot, he’s a Jedi, he’s a leader, he’s—”

“What-ever!” I exclaim, scrunching up my nose at him, and we giggle into quiet. “I’m not saying I didn’t like him as a character – I think he’s an amazing character. I just wouldn’t fuck ‘im.” I cackle at the absurdity of it all.

We continue walking.

Maybe all of this will fade in a couple hours. Maybe it’s the magic of Top Gun, this beach, this dusk that settles in fast around us, the lights that illuminate the darkening boardwalk. It’ll all be over in a couple more weeks, anyway. Bee ‘n’ I’ll go back to the carrier and be on with things, and Maverick will do whatever it is that he does. I know Goose says we should make plans to meet after school’s out, but who really has the time to spare? So, thank God Mav didn’t ride in on his motorcycle, ‘cause, if he’d insisted I hop on and wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his shoulder and la-la-la, I’d be in great danger of sleeping with him.

“D’you wanna head straight back?”

I look up at him. “Hmm?”

Jesus, he needs to tone down his looks or something – it’s disarming, a hazard, really. Those green eyes are givin’ me some mean butterflies, alright. Nowadays, I’ll see him fresh out of the sky, hair spiky and dishevelled with sweat – he doesn’t wear helmet hair as well as others, that’s for certain – and I’ll have to bury my face in my locker. I’ll see him absentmindedly chewing on his dog-tags, and it’ll have me air-headed for the rest of a lecture. I can’t classify it as a distraction, but it’s—certainly not intended. My head isn’t screwed on so tight, and I can’t keep tipping up in the cockpit – I know my ambition to win and these thoughts about Maverick have no correlation, but, good God, maybe if I could just focus more in classes—

“There’s—” he starts, then swallows. “We could go to the pier. Not really a view anymore, but we could see some lights. Boats, maybe.”

“Yeah,” I reply, excitement jolting through my body.

“Yeah?” I nod. He smiles. “Okay.”

When he asks me if I’m cold, he readjusts his jacket on his arm, like he’s already made his mind up to lend it to me. Of course, I shake my head – I’d probably end up stinking up the damn thing with how much I seem to be sweatin’.

We take our time to the end of the pier. When we reach the railing, we step up onto the bar and lean out to look down at the softly lapping water.

“You—erm—”

I turn to look at him, and the stutter of his words stops abruptly, his eyes wide. He looks at me dumbly, like I’m one of the seven fuckin’ wonders. Now, I’ve seen Maverick drunk, stupid, and downright embarrassing himself—just think of the time she lost that fuckin’ lovin’ feeling—but, even when he doesn’t know something, he always keeps face. He always has something to say. Now?—now, here, he looks hopeless.

“You—”

“I what, Mitchell?” I grin, shoving my hair behind my ear in light of the strong breeze that suddenly billows in from across the sea. “Watching the ships, right?” There they are: little dots on the horizon.

He flushes, snapping his attention away. “Right.”

I know what’s coming – I pick up on all of it: the fidgeting of his hands, the downcast dart of his eyes, the way he bites down on the inside of his cheek. Though it kinda perks me up to begin with, I just end up wilting again at the reminder of a certain instructor who I am evidently not.

Still, it’s nice to hear him say: “It’s just—” I tilt my head towards him, “—I think you’ve got great eyes. Great everything really. I dunno. I think—you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

I snort. “That 4% really got to you, hey, Mav?”

He doesn’t laugh, just pauses, takes a second to think about what he’s going to say. “I—don’t know—how to say it.”

My heart drops—in the bad way. “What?"

“That I think about you—a lot.”

Oh, Christ. I let out a deep sigh, and, immediately, his face drops like a stone. “Oh, don’t do that, Maverick.”

“Do what?” he protests through a weak smile.

I recoil just a little bit: he’s a flirt, yes, but I didn’t take him for a dirtbag. “Do what?” my ass. He knows what. Blonde-hair-and-bright-eyes, who’s what. Think of how smart she is, how accomplished she is, how beautiful she is, how level and respected she is – all of these things and a man can still write Charlie of as not that big a deal? That’s fuckin’ low.

“You’re being mean,” I tell him firmly, trying to force down the disgust that pushes under my tongue and the embarrassment that burns over my cheeks.

Maybe Carole and Goose really weren’t exaggerating. Maybe he has got eight women all lined up for him, just waiting for him to call.

His hand makes to touch my shoulder but doesn’t end up making contact – it just hovers, unsure. Either way, I wasn’t going to let it happen. Either way, I find myself scurrying back, away.

Mav has the audacity to look confused. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to—”

“So, what?” I snap, hopping down from the railing and scowling unabashedly at him once more. “I’m one of those girls you string along?”

He laughs – only, it’s not cute anymore; it’s fucking annoying. “No—!”

The wind blows strongly, warm, still, but with the promise of a storm. I have to raise my voice in order to get myself across, I tell myself: “What?—you wanna challenge yourself, or something? Me and Charlie—?”

This?—this seems to piss him off. Mav’s expression crumples into indigence as he protests strongly again, “No—!"

“But—”

“Phantom,” he presses desperately, eyes pleading for me to listen – I’ve seen that expression on him before; every time I’ve ignored it, I’ve ended up regretting it, yelling myself silly over a misunderstanding. So, I pause. I listen. The urgent haze fades away within the span of three deep breaths.

“I wanted Charlie’s advice on how to speak to you. I was nervous—am nervous—and I don’t want to say the wrong thing. She’s very—to-the-point. And Goose and Bee fluff like their lives depend on it.”

Nice one. Nice going, Tommy: do what you do best and throw a fuckin’ rage, why don’t you?

“I thought you didn’t like me—” I say to him dumbly, “—after what I said to you.”

We don’t talk about that argument in the locker rom. We don’t talk about the one after volleyball either, or the one in the air. It’s no excuse – that Viper is breathing down my neck, that I know Skipper expects highly of me – to act like a dick to all the competitors that block my way to that damn trophy. I need to climb this hill.

And here Maverick is, thinking about me—a lot.

“Your opinion matters to me more than you’d think,” he admits with a snarky, little snort. “You’re—” he trails off; the gale dies down. “You’re just—I don’t know how to put it. I’m—not great at the serious-talking stuff.”

“Embarrassed?” I tease. God, I know I am.

He grins. “A little bit.”

We make our way back to the dorms, talking. He tells me he’s liked me ever since this one lecture at the beginning of Top Gun—after the induction, after the bar, after the first exercise—when he’d said something dumb in response to Charlie’s criticism. According to him: “You turned back and looked at me and—and you just smiled. God, I dunno – I just couldn’t look away from you. Even—even after you, y’know, y’turned back around, I—I was just staring at the back of your head, hoping you’d do it again. That you’d look at me again, smile at me again.”

I don’t even remember that day.

He walks me to the door of my dorm, where the windows are all dark and the blinds all flat shut.

No way to make it up to him. No time, either. Should’ve kissed him right then and there at the bar that first night when he came over to the jukebox. Bee saw it in my face – I know that now. I should’ve let him win that bet with himself.

I might be about to do him that favour now, I guess. All flushed, all pretty, all nervous—he gets nervous?—Maverick is so close to me that the heat of his body radiates onto mine, far too dangerous for my liking. This is not what I intended. This is so far off my plan of how this program was gonna go.

But his nose is brushing mine, and his hands are so warm and gentle as they press over my arms.

“Can—?”

I nod softly. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

The kiss, when it comes, is this soft, tentative sink into a brittle release. The gentle press of his nose into my warm cheek elicits a quiet sigh from the both of us – the break from silence must render me into this here embarrassing mess, melting like the ice-cream we shared earlier in the hot sun, because Mav gets that shit-eating grin on his face like he’s watching me lose to him at volleyball all over again. Whatever – he’s the one that probably had to take a cold shower over how I looked.

I cup my hand over the back of his neck, drawing him closer still to me.

Maverick kisses like he’s paying attention to every single detail of it – his eyes are slanted just slightly open, watching my face, and one of his hands rests kindly over my neck, his fingers pressing just a little into the pulse point which I’m sure is racing like a damn horse by now.

Of course, he’s beautiful at this. Just my fuckin’ luck. Technically, yes, it is prohibited to have sexual relations on work premises. Even a man and a woman behind a locked door is assumed to be inappropriate – I’ve heard that one too many a time by the air boss back on the carrier. I’m far from a goody-two-shoes, but rules are rules for a reason. So, of course, it’s just my luck that I meet an unfairly handsome pilot with pretty eyes and entirely too destabilising a kiss. He trails his nose down along my jaw before burying it there in my neck; I hold him tight to me, fingers curling around the thick muscle of his shoulders.

When we kiss again, it’s different: searing, crushing, slow, breathless. The chorus of crickets and cicadas and other night-things is drowned out by the roaring of blood in my ears and the soft noise that slips past Mav’s lips as he pauses for breath, to pant hotly over my cheek.

“You’re gonna have to help me out here, stud,” I mumble helplessly against him, to which he nods fiercely, reaching out blind for the door-knob and guiding me stumbling into my room.

Bee isn’t here – upon the side table, there’s a little, folded note that reads in chicken-scratch handwriting: Staying with Goose for the night. Have fun!

#pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell #top gun #top gun maverick #goose bradshaw #tom cruise x reader #im back on my bullshit #i feel the need for speed #i need him in me

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