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ohtobeleah · 7 months

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Self-flagellation // Tom Kazanksy

Summary: The death of Goose Bradshaw rocks the TopGun class. Iceman struggles with the ideology that his death could have been prevented if he wasn’t sure sure of himself.

Warnings: Suicide attempt. Suicidal tendencies. Depression. Mentions of pregnancy.

Word Count: 3.2k

Author Note: Day Five of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Self-harm. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The warm soapy water soothed Tom’s aching muscles as he let himself slide down the side of the bath till the only thing remaining above the water was his head. Notes of jasmine from your scented epsom salts he swore he never indulged in filled the bathroom as the drip from the leaky faucet filled the void, the silent but all consuming void of nothingness that had followed Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazanksy around ever since he saw Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw break his neck during a freak accident.

It could have been avoided, the death of Goose Bradshaw. If Tom hadn't been so arrogant, if he hadn't started the chain reaction of events that led to Goose's death by cutting Maverick off—perhaps it all could have been avoided. He was so arrogant and sure of himself that he could get that shot, it was just a training exercise, no one should have died.

The more he thought about it as he sunk deeper and deeper into the water, he knew he should have moved. He knew that it was his fault, his actions, and every choice that led to the death of Goose Bradshaw.

And that was something he couldn’t live with.

“Tom!” Your voice cut through the water like a breath of fresh air as you pulled your fiancé up from under the water he’d sunk under. “Jesus Christ what the hell are you doing?” It was the shock of walking into the bathroom and seeing your fiancé completely submerged and not making any attempt to move or get up that was talking. “Tom?” You asked as you assessed his face with both your hands cupping his cheeks. “What are you doing? What’s gotten into you?” You were in search of an answer that perhaps would have been written in the lines on his face—but when Tom reached up to take your hand in his and kissed your knuckles a few times. You knew something was wrong, very wrong. It was the look of dismissal in his eyes.

The very look you saw from your mother right before she was admitted into the loony bin.

“I’m fine—“ Tom tried to reassure you as you tried to keep your composure. “Totally fine dear, just thought it was real quiet under the water.” Tom wanted to tell you about the voices in his head that he’d been trying to silence. Or about the way the burn his lungs felt as he begun to run out of oxygen made him feel closer to Goose. He wanted to be under that water—if you hadn’t pulled him up he would have truly stayed there. It seemed like a peaceful way to go.

He wanted to tell you that it was all his fault, he killed Nick Bradshaw and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t live with the guilt, he saw that little kid on his mothers hip at the funeral three days prior and ever since he made eye contact with little Bradley Bradshaw—Tom wanted nothing more than to trade places with the RIO he killed with negligent flying.

But he didn’t tell you any of that. Tom Kazanksy wouldn’t let his walls come down for no one. Not even you—he didn’t want to be seen as weak minded. His father had instilled a great fear of being seen as less than man enough if he were to ever shed a single tear. So the idea of crumbling to his knees, holding you tight and telling you he wanted nothing more than to trade places with a dead man was far beyond the realm of comprehension.

“I’m fine honey, I was just in my own world for a second there.” You were completely disinclined to believe what your fiancé was saying. The signs were all there. The warning signals had been popping up for weeks. But all you did to keep the peace was nod in simple silence as you sat on the edge of the bathtub. “I love you, I’m sorry for spookin you.”

“You’d tell me—“ You cooed as you pushed Tom's hair from his forehead. “You’d tell me if you weren’t alright wouldn’t you baby?” The question packed a punch Tom wasn’t exactly ready for. He couldn’t tell you, you’d think he was certifiably insane for having such thoughts. He didn’t want you to worry about him, he was fine, he was totally and completely fine.

So he lied right through those perfect teeth of his. He held your hand back up to his lips and pressed gentle kisses across your knuckles. His eyes told you a completely different story to the rhetoric he was spinning. Tom was going under, he was drowning in his own sorrow and guilt for a man he’d let down, that he’d killed. But he wouldn’t tell you that, he couldn’t bring himself to explain to the love of his life.

So he lied. He lied and lied and lied, hoping that one day soon he’d believe himself.

“Absolutely.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

He didn’t mean for it to happen, Tom Kazanksy never meant for his actions to result in his colleague and friends' untimely death. He didn’t mean to rip a family apart at the very seam.

But he had. And he couldn’t cope with the guilt.

“I’m worried about him, Carole.” You sighed as you walked with the newly widowed woman to her husband's grave. “He blames himself, much like Mav.”

“It’s nobody's fault—“ Carole cooed as she held a bunch of roses in her hand and her sons in the other. Bradkey didn’t understand where his daddy had gone and it broke your heart. “It was just a freak accident—I know my husband wouldn't have put the blame on anyone, and I don’t either.”

Carole Bradshaw was a beacon of hope to all the aviators who had lost a dear friend. She was the very reminder they needed to keep going, to keep her husband’s legacy alive by doing what he loved the most.

“I think you should get him to talk to someone if you’re really concerned, even if he doesn’t think anything’s wrong—it always helps to talk it out.” Carole mentioned as she walked with you side by side. “I talk to a therapist about this new chapter twice a week.” She admitted tentatively. “Sometimes it feels all too much, then I remember I have Bradley.” She smiled softly, looking down at her husband’s surviving son. “He deserves to have a mother who’s as put together as can be.” That’s when Carole looked at you genuinely and wholeheartedly saw into your very soul as you held back tears. “Tom needs to be as put together as he can be, for the little one.”

“I haven’t even told him yet.” You could feel your bottom lip wobbling as you spoke. “I don’t want to overwhelm him.” You were only a few weeks along and hadn’t worked up the courage to tell your fiancé yet. He wasn’t himself, between his need to be alone and his lack of attention to your relationship, you felt as if the news of a child would completely dismal Tom's very delicate mental state. “I’m not sure if he’s ready—“

“Maybe if he knew he’d helped create life then the idea he took it away wouldn’t be as overwhelming.” Carole always knew just what to say even when she was barely keeping herself together. After all, it was her husband's grace you were going to visit—not Toms. “Not that he had any involvement, because it was an accident.”

“How many times have you told yourself that?”

You had to ask. “You know, before you started to believe it?”

Carole let out a deep sigh that sounded like it came from her very soul. She squeezed her son's hand three consecutive times and did her best to keep her composure.

“I tell myself that every day.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Honey?” Days turned into weeks before you had even noticed that the weeks had long since turned into months. Tom was for the most part a shell of his former self. He wasn’t home when all the lights seemed to be on. “Tom baby, are you home?”

You’d gotten a call from Viper halfway through your shift, he was concerned to say the very least about Tom and the fact he hadn’t shown up for work this morning really had him worried. He’d asked the pilot if he was doing okay a few times since the accident—but every time he pressed, Tom did what he did best and shut the very people who cared about him the most, out.

“Tom? Honey it’s me baby—Viper called?” You cooed as you placed your keys in the little dish by the front door. The house was eerily quiet for the mid afternoon. Usually the offshore breeze would be blowing through the open windows, but when the air felt still, stale even. Like nothing had moved since you had left this morning. Like nobody had been home all day—yet your fiancés trunk was in the drive. A dead give away. “Honey?”

It was all very ominous, the stillness of your humble apartment, the ground floor of a four story building on the outskirts of Fightertown. The usually warm and cozy living room felt as cold as ice when you walked on by. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Nothing seemed different or misplaced—but the quiet hum, the bubbling anxiety inside your chest told you something was wrong. Something was off and something terrible was about to happen, or had happened.

You remembered what your mother looked like the night your dad had taken her to the emergency room. Her night gown was soaked in crimson blood that would never wash out. You tried.

“Tom? Honey, are you in there?” The bathroom door wasn’t locked, but it was closed shut. Your hand tightened around the doorknob as you let your forehead rest against the painted frame. “Please just answer me? I won’t come in if you don’t want me to.” You sighed to yourself as you closed your eyes and tried to will away the thoughts of your mother.

You always thought it would be you, mental health instability ran in your family like nothing you had ever seen. But here you were, your fiancé had been suffering and he refused to let you in. He refused to be a burden on you and now? Now you were afraid to open the door, you were terrified beyond belief at what you might see.

“Tom—“ Your feet felt frozen as you turned the door handle, the bathroom door slowly but surely creaked open. Time stood still as your eyes landed on the broad shouldered aviator lying in bloodied bath water that looked as thick as gelatin. “Oh god! TOM!”

The shrill that left your body as you rushed over was a sound so painstakingly familiar that for a moment you swore you had heard your father scream behind you. History had a funny way of repeating itself.

“Tom, honey—open your eyes baby look at me!” You tried to stay as calm as you could. “I’ve gotta call an ambulance.” That was the priority, call for help, stop the bleeding, save your fiancé’s life. You kept repeating it over and over like a mantra that would forever be embedded into your soul. Call for help, stop the bleeding, save Tom's life.”

The home phone was down the hall and boy did it kill you every second you were gone, but when you came back to the bathroom, you brought bandages and gauze from the first aid kit you kept in the kitchen with you.

“I’m here baby, I’m here.” Tom was unconscious but he still had a very weak, very faint, hardly there at all paulse. “Please don’t leave us, we’re right here, please please please don’t do this to us.” Twelve weeks, that’s how far along you were. For twelve weeks you had kept your pregnancy a secret from everyone except Carole Bradshaw. For twelve weeks your fiancé had been so distant and so closed off, disconnected even he hadn’t noticed the bouts of sickness, the fatigue, the way your stomach seemed a little more distended then it usually did. You weren’t showing all that much—but you thought the man you loved unconditionally, with your entire heart, with everything you had and more, would have noticed.

But he didn’t.

“Come on baby.” You tried to move him from the bathtub but the dead weight of Tom Kazanksys unconscious body was far too heavy for you to handle. “Stay with us, please.” Blood threatened to stain all aspects of the bathroom. The tiles, your clothes, even Tom's skin. But you did what you could with what you had to stop the bleeding coming from his wrists. Slashed deep. You had to hold back the nausea you felt as you wrapped both your fiancé’s wrists tight to stop them from bleeding any more, but judging by the amount of blood in the water and on the side of the bath—Tom had already lost a lot.

This wasn’t a cry for help, this was so much more. This wasn’t just to feel something, this was to feel nothing at all.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more observant.” You cried as you kept Tom above the water, his head lulled to the side in your hands as you waited for the medics to arrive. “Honey, oh baby we love you so much, please don’t do this to us, please don’t leave.” You had to keep your fingers pressed against his neck, pressed against Tom’s pulse point to remind yourself he was still with you. “If you leave us so help me Christ Tom I’ll never forgive you—don’t you do this to me baby.”

***~***~***~***~**

“No.” The last person Tom Kazanksy wanted to see was you, but here you were—sleeping in the small hospital chair beside his bed with your hand delicately intertwined with his. “No god no—“ He wasn’t supposed to be here with you. He was supposed to be dead, he wasn’t supposed to be alive where the burden was all too much and the guilt was all consuming. He couldn’t be here. “I’m alive?”

He couldn’t remember what happened after he’d sliced his wrists, but for what he could put together he assumed you would have been the one who found him. He left a letter on your pillow, he wondered if you’d found it.

“A clinician is going to come in and speak with you soon.” Tom looked over at you as you spoke, your eyes were barely open, but when he finally met your gaze he saw the hurt he’d caused in them. “Tom—“

“You should have let me die.” Was all he said back to you. The words he spoke hurt more than he would ever know. “It’s my fault he died.”

“Maverick said—“

“Forget what fucking Maverick said Y/n!” Tom snapped as you readjusted yourself in the chair you sat perched on. “I killed him! Goose died because I was flying recklessly and now I can’t live with the fucking guilt—you should have let me die!”

“There are people who can help Tom.” You were a little more stirn than you would have liked to have been, but your fiancé had just tried to kill himself over his own deep rooted resentment for himself. “God why on earth do you think that killing yourself is the only option here?”

“Because I don’t wanna go on living knowing I ruined someone else’s life!” He cried, Tom Kazanksy barely ever cried, in front of people anyway. But here he was, crying in front of you after he’d failed at taking his own life. You’d stopped him. “And if you hadn’t come home I’d be fucking dead! I wouldn’t have to live with myself and I wouldn’t have to look at you and wish you’d stop interfering!”

It hit you in that very moment that when you’d found Tom in the bath he had in fact not been alright, he was trying to drown himself. Only you’d pulled him to the surface.

“I don’t want you around anymore.” You looked at your fiancé with pleading eyes. “I don’t love you enough to stay, I don’t love you enough to keep fighting the fight I know I’ll fucking lose because I’m not strong enough.” It hurt more than anything else in this world. “You don’t need me, you don’t deserve to have to babysit me wondering when I’ll try again, because I will. I’ll try again until I’m dead and gone and don’t have to live with the guilt.”

“Tom—“ Tom Kazanksy was the love of your life. He was once the funny and charismatic man who swept you off your feet. But now as you sat by his hospital bed after saving his life, all he could say to you was why did you even bother. “I can’t leave you after this, you need someone—“

“If you stay I’ll just end up hating you—“ That was the nail in the coffin of your broken relationship. “I’ll hate you for saving me and I’ll hate you forever, so please, just leave, go.” Maverick stood by the door, he’d come to see if you needed anything. He had heard every word Ice spoke and his heart was broken for you. You didn’t see any of this.

This was so much worse than he ever thought it was. Maverick watched as you got up out of your chair, crying hysterically as you held a protective hand over your small but there baby bump. He knew. He knew you were pregnant, Carole had slipped up one night when she was in her own head about the entire situation.

“And don’t think I don’t know either.” Tom added as your tears fell down your face. He watched as you stopped in your tracks. “That baby is better off never knowing me.” He hissed as you kept your back turned, he wasn’t the same man you loved. This was the shell of a man you once knew, a broken man who had pushed everyone, including you away. “If you had bothered to tell me I would have asked you to abort it, saved you the trouble of my burden.” You turned back to face your fiancé as he spiraled further into his psychotic break. “It’s one of the reasons I did it, I don’t deserve to be a father after what I did.”

You took a deep breath as you wiggled your engagement ring off your ringer before you slowly moved back to the bedside. Tom watched you with teary eyes of his own. He couldn’t believe that he was giving up his entire world because he couldn’t handle the immense guilt, the shame, the fear he felt all for kissing one of his friends.

“You were right.” You dropped the ring into his lap, deciding that if Tom Kazanksy had given up on living that he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your support, your love, your energy or your child. This was different to what your mother went through, this wasn’t just depression, this was selfishness and cruel behaviour.

And hell—two could play at that game, become why on god's green earth should you continue to try and save someone who didn’t want to be saved?”

“You weren’t worth saving.” You whispered as you turned on your heels to head out of the room as the clinician walked in. Loving Tom Kazanksy had turned into a losing game. But you had just one final thing to say over your shoulder.

“Say hi to Goose when you see him, maybe you’ll believe him when he tells you it wasn’t ever your fault.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #tom kazansky #Tom kazansky top gun #Tom kazansky angst #tw: suicide attempt #tw: depressive episode #tw: suicidal tendencies

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topgun-imagines · 1 year

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ANGST

Just A Dream

After a terrible dream Ice heads out on a run to clear his mind, unintentionally seeking out the one person he needed most. Warnings: car accident, death, nightmares.

Promise?

You hear something that you're not supposed to. Ice tries to explain himself. But is he too late? Warnings: arguments, bird strike, plane crash, hospitals, allusions to smut.

Hurting

After Ice finds out you lied to him he comes to confront you about it, not at all expecting to learn what he does. Warnings: abuse, derogatory language, swearing, bruises, blood, crying, parental abuse.

The Truth

You have a beautiful relationship with Goose. One that only began because of a certain blond pilot. Warnings: angst, marriage, break ups, conflicted emotions.

It’s Okay

After Goose’s death, Ice is there to help you put the pieces back. But maybe you’re not the only one that needs reassurance. Warnings: death, plane crash.

Sleepless Nights

One night, Ice finds out that you have trouble sleeping. He will do anything in his power to change that. Warnings: angst, nightmares, insomnia, death.

You’re Not Alone

After Ice makes a comment that, unbeknownst to him, hurts you, he needs to make sure that you know just how sorry he is. Warnings: sexism, crying, arguments, drinking.

Touch

Ice notices that you have become more distant since you moved in together. When it’s been nearly weeks of you avoiding his touch, he confronts you about it. Warnings: angst, touch adversity, messy relationships, light abuse.

I’m Not Going Anywhere

Iceman finally gets the courage to confess his feeling for you after he learns you’re leaving Top Gun. Warnings: angst, crying, arguments, medical terminology, cerebral palsy.

Scared

A fight between you and your fiancé spirals out of control. Warnings: angst, light abuse, flinching, arguments, cuts, blood, tears.

One Beer

You have to tell Ice life changing information. Warnings: mentions of drinking, pregnancy, angst.

SMUT

Bratty

You learn what happens after you act like a brat at a New Year’s Eve party. 18+ Warnings: smut, penetrative sex, fingering, oral sex (f!recieving), cum play, drinking, foul language.

FLUFF

Better Than We Thought

After a date night doesn’t go as planned, you and Ice come up with something else. Is it able to salvage the night or is it a waste of time? Warnings: None.

Pay Attention

Ice needs something to fiddle with. Braiding your hair seems like a good idea. Warnings: None.

Perfect Night

You and Ice spend the night in your backyard with nothing but s’mores, stars and each other. Warnings: None.

Sick Day

Ice looks after you while you’re sick, even going as far as making you his homemade soup. Warnings: sickness.

Finally

After months of trying for a baby, you and your husband finally get the chance. Warnings: conceptions issues, pregnancy, vomiting.

The One

A night of singing at the bar leads Ice to realize something. Maybe you’re the one for him. Warnings: drinking.

Seven Minutes

A game night with friends leads to confessions made in an unconventional way. Warnings: light smut, drinking.

That’s My Sister

Once you finally have a moment alone with your boyfriend, your brother just can’t help but interrupt. Warnings: None.

She’s His Girl

Maverick has a talk with Iceman after the events in the locker room. Once you finally have a chance to explain yourself, Maverick realizes just how much you love each other. Warnings: light angst, tense relationship, nudity.

Who’s This?

Ice shocks everyone when he arrives at a Navy ball with a girl on his arm. Warnings: social anxiety.

Guitar Player

Ice comes home one day to find his girlfriend playing guitar. Something that he didn’t know. Warnings: None.

The Engineer

You're just the engineer, a man like Tom Kazansky should have no reason to pay attention to you. Or at least that's what you thought. Warnings: drinking.

Haunted House

In the spirit of Halloween, you and Ice decide to go to a haunted house with the rest of the squad. Warnings: haunted house, jump scares, Halloween.

Fresh

You and Ice have finally moved in together. A fresh start with fresh paint. What could go wrong? Warnings: None.

One Too Many

A Christmas party at the O Club leaves you with many questions for your fiancé. One, however, catches him completely off guard. Warnings: drinking.

Peppermint Hot Chocolate

A vacation in the mountains leads to you and your fiancé enjoying some alone time. Warnings: light smut, sexual innuendos.

Bad Day

Your husband comforts you after you have a bad day at work. Warnings: None.

Movie Night

Ice comforts you after you watch a sad movie. Warnings: None.

Wine and Roses

You and your husband celebrate your 5th wedding anniversary. Warnings: None.

Neon Lights

You and your boyfriend go roller skating. Warnings: None.

Closed Quarters

When you and Ice are locked in a room together by your meddling friends, it gives you a chance to start over. Warnings: enemies to lovers.

Relief

Your husband figures out how to give you some relief during the late stages of your pregnancy. Warnings: pregnancy.

Caring For You

When Ice comes home battered and bruised, you make it your personal mission to make him feel better. Warnings: bar fights, drinking, injury, bruises.

Soothing Touch

When Ice returns from a long day at work, you’re there to help melt all his stress away. Warnings: None.

MOODBOARDS

Perfect Night || Moodboard

Promise || Moodboard

Sick Day || Moodboard

Who’s This || Moodboard

The Engineer || Moodboard

Haunted House || Moodboard

Sleepless Nights || Moodboard

#top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun x female reader #top gun x reader #top gun fluff #top gun angst #top gun smut #Tom Kazansky #tom iceman kazansky #iceman x reader #tom kazansky fluff #Tom Kazansky angst #tom kazansky smut #Tom Kazansky masterlist #iceman fluff #iceman angst #iceman smut #iceman masterlist #top gun masterlist

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sarahsmi13s · 6 months

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|| Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky Masterlist ||

i DO NOT consent to copies or translations of my work!

hello my little cassettes! here is where you can find all of the stories that feature tom 'iceman' kazansky!

general taglist

series

sorry... none yet 😅

angst

sorry... none yet 😅

smut -- 18+ MDNI

-> "is there a reason you're naked in my bed?" (tom kazansky x kerner!reader)

fluff

sorry... none yet 😅

#vinny's multiverse #tom iceman kazasky masterlist #tom iceman kazansky #iceman #tom kazansky #iceman smut #tom kazansky smut #iceman angst #tom kazansky angst #iceman fluff #tom kazansky fluff #x reader #x oc #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky x oc #top gun maverick #top gun #sarahsmi13s masterlist #sarahsmi13s

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mamsieur · 6 months

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Used to it | Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Summary : Being Pete Mitchell's daughter has never been easy. But maybe one mission could bring you back together ?

TW : angst and fluff, angst with a happy ending, mention of alcohol, panic attack, canonical character death, age gap (reader is 27 and Bradley is 35)

Length : 7156 words

AN : I'm sorry for making Pete seem like a bad father but that man is not stable enough to handle a child in my opinion.

posted on AO3 July 12, 2023

You were 7 when your mother left your father, Pete Mitchell.

You didn't have many early memories of him. There were only the arguments with your mother, his departures on missions that left you in tears, the missed birthdays and Christmases. It’s all you’ve ever known so you were used to it and being a child, you found it normal.

You were 7 when your mother decided to move out, leaving your whole life behind. You remember crying your eyes out in protest. As your mom tried desperately to get you out of the house, you clung with all your might to Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw was 15 and your regular babysitter, though your mother thought of him as a son, Carole and her were really close. They liked to remind you that when you were 4, you proudly announced that you were going to marry him. Bradley was almost always around, and Pete was his godfather, and they had a bond you envied. Despite the eight-year age difference, you remember being very close to your "Bradbrad" . He never pushed you away, was always ready to play Lego or other board games with you. He even took you to the park or with him when he went to the theater with his friends - when the movies were kids friendly -.

You were 7 , and your whole world shattered. No more Bradley, no more hanging to the naval base to have a glimpse of your dad and his incredible plane, no more aunty Carole and her sweet singing. You had hated your mom for years before understanding you left for the best. She was finally happy ; not completely, she missed her friends and sometimes your father, but you could feel that she was happier away from the hustle and bustle of the navy, of your dad. You were not used to the strange calmness of the city, but your grandparents made it easy to adapt. Soon enough, you got used to the loving cocoon your mother succeeded to create around you.

You were 16, at your mother's funeral, when you had to accept the fact that you had to go back to live with Pete. When the two of you finally found each other in the crowd, he didn't say much, just gave you a few brief updates. You asked him about Bradley, a bit sad to not have seen him here, and he didn't have much to say. Only that the two of them were no longer as close as they had been.

The silence between you was uncomfortable.

Of course, Pete had kept in touch over the years, calling on your birthdays, sending a little something. You spent some Christmas with him when he wasn't working and a few days during the summer break ; but Pete Mitchell loved his work too much to focus on you. As long as you lived with your mother, Pete's absence from your life wasn't something you suffered from, at least not really.

You were used to it. Used to the absence, used to the missed calls, used to the Christmases with the attention of other aviators and their families but the ignorance of your dad, used to the unanswered phone calls. Used to his silence.

But now your mum was dead... and you were dreading having to join your father in California.

You were 16 and you didn't want to live with him, you already knew what would happen ; he'd go flying, on a mission or for his own pleasure, leaving you alone at home - if you could call it home. The hangar where he lived now was something you'd always hated . It had no place for anything or anyone other than his passion for the sky, for planes and speed. You didn't want to leave your new life, even though you loved California. Your school, your friends, your family, your routine. But you didn't really have much of a choice. You were 16. He was now your legal guardian and you didn't want to drag your grandparents into a custody battle. Even though part of you told yourself that your dad would probably agree to let you stay with them, you didn't want to take that chance. And you hoped he'd be more present, that you'd finally have the father you'd dreamed of, that your other friends had. If other military parents could be there for their children, why couldn't Pete?

Perhaps because Pete loved flying more than anything else in the world. The sky was his one true love.

Even though you knew it, you held out the faintest hope that he would finally take his responsibilities as a father. Unfortunately, Pete was still Pete. He wasn't cut out to be a father. A fun uncle, maybe. A parent, no. The fact that Bradley no longer spoke to him proved that.

You were 18 when you packed your bags and headed off to the naval school in Maryland. You wanted to be a pilot too. And you wanted to get away from that bloody hangar, so empty, so alone.

Pete wasn't there when you left. Not even a message or a note. Nothing at all.

You weren't even surprised.

It was Tom Kazansky - Uncle Tom - who had taken you to the airport. He had been more present in your life than your own father, even though you rarely saw him. You knew your relationship with Pete was a sensitive subject, and you knew when Tom gave him a hard time. Pete was suddenly more present - too present . He'd pop into your life for a few days, trying to be the cool or bossy dad, but it always ended in a fight.

You hated it when he did that. You hated the way he would act like your friend, or like a strict parent, talking about curfew and how no boys were allowed in his 'home'. You hated the way he would try to be the father that he had never been in your whole life. You hated the way he tried to convince you that he was trying to change, that he'd be there for you.

But you couldn't blame Uncle Tom for trying to shake your father. He had children too, but despite his love of the air, he had been a present parent to them.

But some days were not as bad as others. Sometimes, when he was in a good mood, Pete would take you flying. And even though it was hard to admit, you were a bit of a flier yourself. The feeling of freedom, of being alone in a comforting way. It was mesmerizing.

So, without him knowing, you decided to join the navy after graduation. You took your mother's name, Evans , so that you would not attract attention. Only Tom knew, so your dad wouldn't and couldn't pull your papers like he did with Bradley.

You found out that he had done this when you saw Bradley one day in the summer before you made your choice. At first you did not recognize him. He was 26 now. He was taller, more muscular and had a 80s mustache that suited him well - puberty had treated him really good. He was the spitting image of his father, whom you'd only seen in photographs and heard about when Tom and Pete reminisced over drinks about the past.

But Bradley had the same look in his eyes as his mother, Carole.

As a child, you adored Carole. She was always there to comfort you when your parents were at odds, picking you up from kindergarten when your father was on a mission and your mother was at work… She was kind of a second mom. You went to her funeral with your mother eight years ago, you never cried so much.

The summer of your reunion with Bradley had been the summer of his return from the Naval Academy, which he had graduated from with honors. He was a very good pilot and would soon be going on a mission. The day before he left, you snuck out of the hangar to meet him at a nearby bar. He had celebrated his departure with you and a handful of friends, promising to keep in touch as often as possible. As he left, you realized how much you'd missed your Bradbrad.

You were 18, and you remembered how quiet the ride to the airport had been. Part of you wanted to stay. You loved California. It was close to the ocean, the people were friendly, and at the Navy base everyone knew you.

You'd even earned a nickname, the call sign you hoped to use soon : Tempest . It was a bittersweet memory of a stormy night when Pete "forgot" to pick you up from baseball practice. You had landed on the base, mad as hell, soaked to the bone. You'd yelled at your father as hard as the storm had raged. It had been a huge fight. And of course, everyone had heard. Surprisingly, many had defended you rather than your father. You were relieved then. And to cheer you up while your dad was embarrassed, Tom took you to your favorite fast food and laughed with you about the scene. "You walked in there like a damn storm, a tempest ! Heck, that should be your call sign when you join the ranks !" You smiled as you remembered his raspy laugh and all the stories he told you about his days at Topgun .

It was through those stories that you learned a little bit more about your father, The Maverick . His accomplishments, his reckless attitude in the air, his urge to always define what’s possible and pushing the limits. Your desire, your need , to join the Navy to become a pilot only grew, digging a hole of longing for the sky deep inside you. You wanted your father to see you, to acknowledge you. You wanted to be more like him.

You were 27 years old when you were called to the NAS North Island for a "top secret" mission that required "the best of the best". To your surprise, you were one of the youngest and one of the only women. But you'd missed California too much to worry about such details. Like many pilots, you had joined the Hard Deck for a drink the day before training began. You soon met Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Two strong personalities. Then came Javy “Coyote” Machado and Robert "Bob" Floyd. He was discreet, a bit shy. And before you could introduce yourself to the others, someone entered the bar and caught Jake's eye.

"Bradshaw. As I live and breathe."

"Hangman. You look... good." His voice was behind you and you didn't dare turn around to see him.

"Well, I am good. I'm very good Rooster ."

You let the two men talk, then Bradley greeted Natasha and the others. At last, his gaze landed on you. You couldn't help but smile stupidly. He looked so surprised and happy. "Y/N Tempest Evans?!"

"Hey Bradbrad ..." you smiled and happily accepted his embrace. He squeezed you against him and asked you all about your journey, which you happily did, while in the distance the bell rang, indicating that a customer couldn't pay his bill and had to be kicked out. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you recognized your father, but Jake and Javy had already grabbed him by the arms and dragged him outside. You didn’t have the time to really think about it, Bradley taking you by the hand to sing with him at the piano. You laughed and followed him with the others in his Great balls of fire ’s reprise. It had been a great night.

The next day, at the first meeting, you thought your heart stopped when you saw that your instructor was actually Pete... and from the look on his face, he wasn't happy to see you there. Before the meeting was over, you heard his voice call your name ; it had a barely disguised note of anger. "Lieutenant Evans. You’ll stay after training, we'll have a word."

Bradley looked at you, concerned. He knew that you had never told Pete about the Navy, but he didn't know that even after nine years, your father was still unaware of your career. The others were confused and you could feel questioning gazes on you. Great way to begin this thing , you thought.

You were 27 and a very good pilot. An excellent one. One of the best. That's why you were here after all, wasn’t it ? You walked in your father’s footsteps, perhaps as talented as him at that age. But you were also as reckless as him, living up to your callsign. A tempest was never soft or delicate, neither were you. You had risked your life so many times in your five years of service. Tom often told you that you were just like your father and that it scared him. You didn’t think, you just did , you wanted to go faster, higher and further. Acting like the storm that you were, leaving your enemies confused by what had just happened. The adrenaline, the speed, the immensity of the sky, the feeling of freedom... you finally understood why Pete loved being in his plane so much. You felt a little closer to him in those moments.

And yet, in nine years of absence, he had never once contacted you. You had disappeared one day and he hadn't even looked for you. Your uncle had promised not to say anything about your career, but Pete hadn't even been interested in why or where you were going.

Seeing him angry made you furious . How could he have the nerve to be mad at you?

After the training and the 200 pushups you had to do because - of course - you didn't beat your old man, you stayed on deck and waited for the others to leave. Bradley gave you a little squeeze on the shoulder, as if to give you strength, and reluctantly left. You heard Hondo telling Pete to calm himself before saying things he might regret out of anger.

Once again, the silence between you and your father was heavy.

You couldn't take your eyes off him, waiting for him to finally speak. You could see that he was trying to stay calm. But you already felt like exploding . You could feel the reproaches, the so-called concern. You could feel that he wanted to push you away .

"Y/N... how did you... you went to the Academy behind my back?!"

"Iceman," you replied simply, your eyes and voice cold. "And you never asked where I was either."

"You-?! I should have known, you lied to me."

“It’s not lying if you’re not asked.” you mutter, “You taught me that.”

“Now’s not the time to play that game Y/N,” he snapped, "you can't be here."

"With all due respect, Captain, that's not your call."

You really tried to remain calm, knowing that the others must have been listening nearby - especially Jake. You didn't want to draw any more attention, but you felt your blood boiling under your skin.

"I will talk to Vice Admiral Simpson about this. I don't suppose anyone's made the connection between us. But now there's clearly a conflict of interest-"

"You have no right to take this mission away from me. It's not fair," you gasped, eyes wide.

"I am your father ! I can and will do it."

"What ?! No ! No, you can't ! 9 years of nothing but silence and now you're acting like a worried father ?!" you snapped, moving towards him and pointing an accusing finger. A nervous laugh escaped you and you sighed, pursing your lips. "Why do you always have to act like this ? You've never acted like a father to me, except to get in my way !"

"Get in your way ? No ! I care about you-"

"Really ?!" you cut him off, raising your voice, "Then where have you been for 9 years ?! What did Tom have to say to you that you weren't even lookin' for me ? Where was all this care when I left and you were not here ? Where were you huh ?! Where was all that concern ?!"

Pete's eyes widened and he searched for words. He should have known that he could not argue with your point so he just huffed then scolded. "I'm your captain, Lieutenant Evans ! Keep your voice down !"

"Oh, now it's not my father talking ?!" you couldn't hold back a nervous, fake laugh. "You see how you are ?! Always twisting things your way ?! Why are you avoiding that conversation ? Why are you running away again ?!" you’re almost screaming, inches close to him, eyes locked in his.

"Lieutenant Evans !" he growled. You grumbled and let out a heavy sight, calming yourself. You stepped back and clenched your fists along your body.

"Will that be all, Captain Mitchell ?"

You clenched your fists even harder, your knuckles turning white. You wanted to physically shake him to finally have answers. But you couldn’t, at least not here, not now.

"Y/N..." he huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Will that be all, Captain ?" you repeated, your voice slightly trembling. Tears of rage threatened to fall. You held them back, too proud to cry in front of him. Pete looked at you and sighed quietly.

"You're dismissed Lieutenant Evans..."

You left the deck with a quick stride. Your heart was pounding in your chest, a mixture of anger, frustration and sadness. Of course, the rest of the squadron was there, already clean and changed. Seeing the anger in your eyes, no one said a word, not even Hangman. He just stared at you, confused, as you slammed the door of the changing room.

Later that evening, as the squadron relaxed at the bar, Jake couldn't help but bring up the earlier scene.

"So our dear Tempest's dad is the famous Maverick?"

" He's not my father ," you muttered, finishing another beer. "My genitor maybe. But he's not my father."

"Why Evans if Mitchell's your old man?" Jake insisted.

You could hear Bradley and Natasha telling him to drop it, but he kept coming back. You could feel your anger rising again. You downed another beer and slammed the empty bottle down on the table.

"Tell me, Bagman , weren’t you taught to keep your mouth shut about things that don't concern you? I'm sure your mama taught you some manners, didn't she? Now shut up before I put my fist through your face," you growled, half drunk, half angry. Jake scoffed and held his hands up in defense while Bob stopped you from approaching him. Seeing your father enter the bar only made you feel worse. And it took all your patience not to slit Jake's throat on the spot as he continued his overly curious and unpleasant comments with his snide attitude.

Bradley went with you to get some fresh air as he wasn't too keen on seeing Pete either. When you arrived at the beach, a wave of sadness washed over you. You knew that your father would do everything in his power to get you out of this mission, but what was worse was that he didn't even try to talk to you, to reconnect. Your shoulders shook and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Only a sobbing hiccup betrayed you and Bradley rushed to take you in his arms. You felt the strength leave your legs and the two of you ended up sitting in the sand, crying your eyes out and clinging to Bradley. "I've got you... Let it all out..." he murmured between two kisses on the top of your head. His big hands gently stroked your back, letting go of all your pain. "It's okay, baby girl... it's okay..."

Bradley and you practically lived together now. You’ve inherited your mom’s old house by the ocean and it’s confier than being on base. So those kinds of pet names were almost common now. But this time you didn’t blush at it, your emotions a mess.

You cried against him for a long time, as you hadn't done for many years. Rooster held you until you calmed down. "It's not fair..." you whispered, sniffling. "He's going to take me off the mission..."

"He won't be able to... Ice recommended you... there's nothing he can do about it..."

You shrugged, not really sure if Tom could help you. He was very ill and you didn't want to tire him out with your disagreements with your father.

“He’s just an old dickhead, don’t worry…” Bradley tried to cheer you up but you’re too distraught to play along. After a little less than an hour later, you find the force to get up and you head home with him. You fall asleep in the car and wake up the next morning in your bed.

There wasn't much time left before the mission. Training sessions were coming up and so were your fights with Pete. Cyclone hadn't pulled you out of the mission, but you weren't sure if it was to spite your father or because he felt you were capable of succeeding, just like your comrades.

Days passed at an alarming pace. The team slowly bonded through group exercises and moments of relaxation, especially with the game your father had invented: dogfight football.

You couldn't lie, it felt good to have such moments. But your father still didn't talk to you and you were still angry. You remained professional, but you couldn't stand his fatherly attitude towards you.

All your hopes of renewing real ties disappeared when you learned of Tom's death. You had seen him the day before and he had made you promise to try to take care of Pete. His funeral was one of the hardest moments of your life.

And because bad news never comes alone, the mission was moved up by a week. Pete was temporarily relieved of his duties, as Admiral Simpson still believed his plan of attack was doomed to failure. Of course, your father, in his legendary arrogance and cockiness, proved him wrong with an unauthorized flight. Hope rose in the team but it was still a very risky plan.

Cyclone decided to make Pete team leader, and not surprisingly, he didn't choose you as his wingman. Part of you was angry because you felt you could do it, and another part of you was mortified when he announced that his choice would be Bradley. This mission was suicide, and you couldn't afford to lose them both. You couldn't afford to lose anyone in the squadron, but these two, it was just too much.

You didn't catch up with Pete as much as you wanted to, there were still so many questions left unanswered, so much time to make up for… You hadn't been able to make things right with your dad, you hadn't been able to tell him that you had this passion for aviation because of him. You hadn't been able to tell him that you regretted not telling him about the academy, that you regretted the 9 years of distance between you...

And you didn't spend enough time with Bradley.

Sure, you were always glued to each other in your free time, taking walks on the beach, talking and singing together at the Hard Deck piano, having movie nights... but you didn't want it to stop. Not after you'd half confessed how you felt about him after a few too many drinks, telling him that your 4-year-old declaration still stood. He laughed and told you that he hadn't forgotten either.

On the day of the mission, you barely managed to find your way to your father. "Captain?" your voice was louder than you had expected.

"Lieutenant Evans?"

"I... Before you go, I'd like to talk-"

"We'll talk when I get back."

"... Promise me you'll come back."

For a moment, you were that five-year-old girl again, watching her father leave. Pete must have seen it in your eyes and climbed down from the cockpit to take you in his arms. "I promise I'll come back in one piece, kiddo..." You hugged him tightly and nodded in agreement. After a few seconds, you let go and let him settle down. You ran to Bradley and made him promise you the same. He smiled confidently, even though you knew he was stressed. "Don't worry, we've got a Star Wars marathon to watch," he smiled before gently and discreetly kissing your forehead. You blushed and nodded, a worried little smile on your face.

Reluctantly, you left the track and joined Jake. You were glued to your radios, following the progress of the mission. Everything was going well until two enemy fighters spotted them.

You stopped breathing.

First they had Bradley in sight and locked on.

The enemy fired.

But your father took the brunt of the missiles and saved Rooster.

Your brain didn't know how to process all this information and shut down when you heard Bradley's decision to go after Pete before getting shot down too.

You don't remember much else. All you knew is that Jake had to leave in a hurry to find and rescue them. When they landed with that really out beat up F-14, you rushed out on deck to greet them, swallowing all your worry and anger at their unconscious behavior for the moment.

Once ashore, the entire crew decided to celebrate their success at Penny's Bar, dragging Pete with them. You stayed close to Bradley, as if afraid that it was all a dream and that he wasn't really there. He wouldn't let go of you either, his arm tight around you. You felt like a schoolgirl, it was stupidly comfortable. You looked at Pete, who was happily chatting with Penny and other members of the team. You didn't want to spoil the evening with a discussion that was out of your control…

Around one o'clock you went out for some fresh air, leaving Bradley to play with those who hadn't returned home yet ; Reuben, Natasha, Mickey and Javy.

As a cold shiver ran through you, you felt a heavy jacket on your shoulders. You immediately recognized the peculiar smell ; old whiskey mixed with motor oil and a hint of cologne.

" Dad ? "

"I thought you wanted to talk ?" he asked quietly, moving toward the beach. You nodded and took his pinky with yours like a child, searching for your words.

"I'm sorry..." you breathed, holding back your tears. "For going to the Academy behind your back and not telling you… not talking to you for almost ten years... I know that giving news is supposed to go both ways and all, but... but you weren't even there when I left... and I guess... I guess I resented you as much as I wanted you to be there, you know ?" you sniffed before continuing your monologue. "I just wanted you to see me . ‘Cause… it’s because of you I wanted to go down this road, you gave me this love for flight, for speed, for the sky. I... I just wanted you to be happy that we finally had something in common, but... but you had already pulled Bradley's papers, so I didn't think and I just did what seemed most logical and easiest. Take Mom's name, ask Ice not to tell you. I know it was stupid… but I also know it would have hurt too much if you had stopped me. And... And then no news for nine years... It hurt even more. The Academy and my first years of service weren't what I thought they would be... it was rough and sometimes I just… I just wanted to call you to come and pick me from there… but… but I wouldn't change that for the world. Because I’m still a Mitchell and Mitchells never quit right ?” You took a few seconds, your gaze meeting his, to see if he wanted to intervene but he didn’t. He just looked at you, taking all the information you gave him. You let out a shaky breath, playing with the sleeves of his jacket nervously. “And I know you must and may resent me for the rest of my life, but… but I just wanted you to be proud of me and... and for us to finally be a family." You bit your lip, trying to calm the flow of emotions that came through.

The sky began to rumble and your father remained silent after your speech. A few tears rolled down your cheeks as he couldn't find the words.

"Please, Dad, say something..." you sighed, your voice breaking.

The rain began to fall slowly and Pete's silence was too much for your heart to take. He couldn't even look at you anymore. You thought you could take it ; you were used to his silenced treatment, used to the fact that he couldn’t express his feelings. But right now, you needed him to speak, to ease your worries, to confront you.

"Dad... please... I'm begging you... talk to me…" you repeated desperately.

You broke down again and cried like a little girl in front of your mute father. You hated that he couldn't open up to you and you hated that he saw you so frail, so fragile. Your sobs mingled with the rain, which grew heavier, the wind and waves making the silence deafening. You bit your lip and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, in vain.

"I know I'm not... I know you didn't plan… you didn’t want to have me with mom-"

"No, it's true... I never planned to be a father... The very idea of having children terrified me and still does," Pete interrupted you, "but... you're one of the most beautiful things, if not the most, that has ever happened to me. And I'm petrified of anything happening to you, I'm helpless on so many levels... and I... I didn't know how to be there when you needed me... I know I must have let you down a lot..." He sighed, catching his breath and holding back his own tears. "I thought... it would be best for both of us to let you have your freedom... but the weeks, months and years went by and I didn't have the guts to try to contact you. I was too ashamed... but Y/N, I never stopped loving you... you're my daughter... and even if you have my damn temper and your mom’s stubbornness," you couldn't hold back a little laugh and a slight smile despite your tears, which your father tenderly chased away with his thumb, "you'll always be my little girl, too eager to get on our little plane for a ride, passionate and fierce… I don’t resent you… I think I would have done it your way if my old man put me in this situation…" He allowed himself to cry as well as the two of you finally hugged each other, relieved of an enormous weight.

"I love you too, Dad... sorry for everything..." you mumbled against his shoulder.

"No, no… I’m sorry… It's my turn to apologize, sweetheart..."

The two of you lay embracing in the rain for a while, making up for years of distance in a few minutes. You were the first to let go. You once again took his hand like a child.

"We better get back before Hangman starts gossiping..."

"Or before Bradley starts worrying," Pete teased. You blushed and looked at him with wide eyes. "What? Like I haven't noticed the way you two look at each other. I'm not that blind kid!" He laughed “Ah… your mom and Carole would have been thrilled !”

You returned to the bar, soaking wet, chatting about anything and everything. Seeing you, Bradley's expression changed from worried to relieved, then back to worried as he noticed you were shivering a little from the cold. He politely left his conversation with Mickey to join you.

"Are you okay? Do you want to go home and change?"

"That would be a good idea..." you smiled at him. You had to admit you were exhausted from this rollercoaster of emotions. You said goodbye to the others from a distance, then to your father in a final hug, and followed Bradley back to his old blue Bronco. The two of you made your way to your small house.

Bradley was a good roommate. You each had your own room, but you often fell asleep together in front of the TV or on one of your beds after long late-night discussions. You liked the routine you created. And you hoped with all your might that nothing would change. But your feelings for him were becoming more and more obvious in your mind and heart. You wondered how much longer you could hide it.

Seeing you so silent, Bradley placed his hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Are you all right, lil’ Tempest?"

His eyes never left the road as his thumb traced small circles on your jeans. A shiver ran through your entire body and you wished this contact would never end.

"Everything's fine Roo... don't worry..."

"Okay..."

He squeezed your knee again and left his hand on your thigh. The warmth of his palm made you shiver and you placed your hand on top of his shyly. Once again, you felt like a teenager. It was stupid.

The ride home was rather quiet, in a comforting way, Bradley driving carefully in the pouring rain and humming the song that passed on the radio. When he parked, you stayed in the car for a moment. You sensed that he had something he wanted to say to you, and he sensed the same thing on your side. After a few minutes of silence and shy glances, he smiled at you, got out of the car, and you followed. He ran to unlock the door and waited for you under the porch.

You wanted to run as well, but your legs felt heavy. That's when your anxiety decided to take over. The stress and worry of the past few days were finally catching up to you. As you saw Bradley step out into the rain with a worried expression, the conversation on the radio played in your head. Your father's F-18 had exploded, and Bradley was on his way to pick him up. And now it was his turn to go down. A huge pressure on your chest stopped you from breathing and new tears rolled down your cheeks. You couldn't move, pinned to the pavement. Silent sobs shook you as your vision blurred. You couldn't see or hear Bradley any more. You felt so alone, so cold. Your panic attack froze you under the heavy rain and you couldn't get out of it. You couldn't hear anything except the intense ringing in your ear. You wanted to throw up. The world spun around you as your mind screamed what the communications officer had said earlier, "Maverick's down ! Rooster's down !"

They were dead.

For the long forty minutes or so that followed, they were dead . And you were stuck in that loop. One minute everything was fine, the mission was a complete success. The next, the last two most important people in your life were dead. The ground began to feel strangely unstable as you fought harder to breathe. Eventually your legs gave out and you felt yourself fall, but you didn't hit the ground. You felt two arms around you, holding you securely but not too tightly, then lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. The buzzing in your ears slowly faded away and you didn't feel the rain on your skin anymore. You gasped for air when you finally heard Breadley call your name, concern in his voice. As you raised your eyes to look at him, a sudden relief washed over you and you couldn't help but sob again.

He was home. You were home. With him.

"What's going on, Y/N? Hey... Breathe... breathe and talk to me..." he said quietly.

"I thought... I thought you and Dad... you... you were dead..." you managed to say between sobbing hiccups. You clung to his shirt, afraid he would fade away. He smiled a little and kissed the top of your head as he cupped your cheeks with his calloused hands. Then he took your hands and laid them flat on his heart. You could feel it beating at a regular pace.

"I'm here. I’m okay. You're okay. I'm very much alive, Mav is too, and you're stuck with me, with us, little Tempest..."

"Yeah ? Promise ?" you sniffed, your lower lip still trembling.

"Yeah... Promise." he smiled at you again then hugged you tightly.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, the bristles of his mustache tickling you a little. One of your hands reached up to his neck, your fingers brushing his little hair. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, absorbing each other's presence. You felt so relaxed in his arms, as if you belonged there. Your heart fluttered as you heard him hum one of your favorite songs and then felt him beginning to slow dance with you, taking you peacefully to the bathroom. You were too exhausted and shaken from your panic attack to even ask him what he was doing. You just obliged and listened to him, hypnotized. He declared that you needed a long relaxing bath and in the meantime he would order pizza. He helped you take off your shoes and socks, then your hoodie. He kissed your forehead and let you finish undressing, leaving the bathroom to give you some privacy.

You couldn’t stay too long in the bath, your mind being too loud. You knew you would break down again if you weren’t close to him . Bradley made you feel safe, secure, grounded. That was what you needed to relax. You were so used to being alone before, used to the silence, the empty rooms. But since he decided to kind of move in with you, you couldn’t bear the loneliness. The house was so warm now, so welcoming and comfy.

As you crossed his room after you’ve washed, you noticed that old hoodie you bought him one Christmas when you were in naval school. It’s a silly one, the hood designed to look like a rooster. An amused sigh escaped you and you took it to wear. It was still as soft and comfy as the day you bought it.

“Stealing my clothes I see ?” he chuckled when you joined him in the kitchen.

“Stealing my beers I see ?” you teased him back, pointing at the bottle in his hand, “I thought cranberry beers were for chicks ?”

“Mama Carole didn’t raise me to be picky” He scoffed in défense, with a smirk.

“Oh I know she didn’t. And my mama didn’t raise me to steal, I’m just borrowing that hoodie.” you smiled, putting the hood on. “Look, we’re twins now, Rooster !”

The both of you laughed at that stupid joke. He then smiled at you and put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Feeling better sweets ?”

“Yeah… sorry about that I… I think these past days were a bit too much for my brain…”

“Don’t be sorry… it’s normal to break sometimes… everyone does.”

You hummed and nodded, but before you could talk, the doorbell rang. “Must be the pizzas ! Get yourself comfortable on the couch and choose a movie Y/N, I’ll be right back !” He kissed your cheek, close to your lips - too close - and ran to the door. You stood there for a moment, cheeks and heart warming up, before doing what he asked you. Once again, you felt like a schoolgirl at her first sleepover with her crush. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach and your face turning a bit red.

You should tell him. But you risked losing that friendship you had. And at the same time, you wanted more than that. You wanted to feel his arms around you, his lips - oh those lips - on you, to wake up next to him each and every morning in your bed… You fantasized about a life with him for a minute, not noticing him getting back with the food. You jumped slightly when he waved his hand in front of your eyes to snap you out of your reverie. Your gaze locked with his as he asked if everything was all right.

"Yes, yes... I was just lost in thought..." you smiled shyly, your cheeks flushed, letting him settle in beside you. He took the plaid to cover both of you, then put his arm around your shoulders.

"And what were you thinking about? Or who?" He teased.

"About us, actually..."

"Us?" He said, a little surprised.

Your cheeks were crimson. You'd said too much already. You couldn't run anymore. You just nodded, not daring to meet his gaze. You felt him come closer and turn a little towards you after a few seconds of silence.

"Me too, I have to admit..."

"Really?" you almost whispered, looking up at him. He smiled and nodded.

"Yeah... to tell you the truth, I like it here, but... I don't want to be just another roommate anymore. We're pretty similar in a lot of things, Phoenix even says we look like an old married couple that's always jammed together." You chuckled a little but couldn't help but agree. Bradley smiled a little before continuing, a little nervously. "And... the crash, almost getting killed... It made me realize a lot of things... like the fact that I didn't want to lose you. And that... maybe... the fact that I felt so comfortable with you meant... meant more than friendship..."

Your heart raced in your chest. Was he going to confess what you were thinking? You bit the inside of your cheek to prove to yourself that you weren't dreaming, and before he could continue, you pulled him by his collar and crushed your lips against his. The kiss was desperate, as if you needed it to keep on living. Bradley didn't waste a second in responding, one of his hands sliding up your cheek and the other down your back to press you against him. You would have liked that moment to last forever, but the lack of air forced you to pull away a little. He pressed his forehead against yours and let out a small laugh. "I guess it's mutual, then?"

"You're a little genius aren’t you ?" You couldn't help but tease him before kissing him again.

You felt so good against him, kiss after kiss. You felt complete, soothed.

And you could easily get used to it .

#top gun maverick #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #dad pete mitchell #reader is pete daughter #jake seresin #bob floyd #penny benjamin #tom iceman kazansky #carole bradshaw #angst with a happy ending #pov second person

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pollyna · 8 months

Text

Their last act isn't loud or an announcement to the world. Ice is on palliative care now, and Mav is a few hours away from being shipped out.

They dance. They dance on their wedding song, Ice's oxygen tank being the third wheel in their slow movements, with Mav singing along the radio and Ice hands in his hair.

"We had a good run, didn't we?" Mav asks, on the last notes of the song.

"The best" Ice says, without speaking out loud.

Mav laughs, Ice takes off his mask. The kiss is soft and as long as Ice doesn't have to cough again.

When someone knocks at the door, Mav has already has his bag over his shoulder, and Ice walks with him till the threshold.

They don't say much, Mav hugs him and Ice hugs back as much as he can.

It's the last time they see each other.

(Ice dies in his bed, two hours later. Mav's jet goes down in a flare of glory and too many bullets. He's dead before hitting the ground.)

#tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #major characters death #angst #comfort #one last dance

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blazingstar29 · 7 months

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When Tom dies, Pete moves into the spare bedroom. He sleeps in the single bed and showers in the guest bathroom whilst dust coats the photo frames and the scents of their intertwined love slowly evaporate. Phone chargers are still plugged into the wall and three-quarter full shampoos sit in the shower.

Months go by until Slider visits and forces him to go into the room.

"Are you going to lock him away in a dark room for the rest of your life?"

"Maybe."

But Slider opens the door and the curtains are still drawn and spiders have nested in the window panes. He holds Pete's hand whilst they strip the bed and holds him together when he cries over Tom's rusted razor by the bathroom sink.

The only thing they don't wash are the pillows. Pete sprays a dusty bottle of cologne into the air and breathes for the first time in months.

#whumptober day 16 got me feeling angst (this is not for whumptober but will probbaly be part of the you might be dying series )#top gun 1986 #icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #iceman x maverick #ron slider kerner #top gun maverick

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the-ace-with-spades · 2 months

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(another unfinished post i found on the way to glasgow - that was the longest train ride in my life - I'm sorry in advance)

When Ice finally passes away, at the age of 73, in his sleep, Bradley moves Mav into their house the same day.

He gets the call in the morning, while trying to simultaneously cook Jake's breakfast and try to make their daughter put on a rain jacket. It's not Mav, but someone from the hospital. Jake doesn't know this — Bradley's face twitches only for a second and then he's back to the nagging, relaxing tone and telling their daughter it's raining and it won't stop. Jake only finds out when he comes back home from the school drop-off and Mav is already there on their couch. Jake doesn't even get the full explanation until that night, just a quick, "Ice passed away overnight."

There's only their three youngest living with them at the time — their 18-year-old daughter who attends UC San Diego, and their 15-year-old son who is still in high school, and their 7-year-old daughter — so Mav takes one of the vacant bedrooms.

The first few nights, Bradley sleeps in the same bed with him. Neither of them looks like they get much sleep. They don't really eat, either, just drink coffee and nibble on the crackers.

The kids start coming back home, and their oldest helps Jake arrange most of the things for the funeral, at least for the first few days. Mav is... numb, not really there, and Jake understands — he would, too, if he woke up one day and his husband died in his sleep next to him. Bradley is silent, mostly, the way he usually rambles to fill out the silence, the way he hums, the way he sings at any given time when there are no words spoken, it's all gone and Jake doesn't know how to fill out the silence either, how to ask, how to make it better without asking.

Bradley doesn't cry, or at least not the way he knows Mav does — he can see Mav's red eyes every morning — but there's something empty in his gaze, in the way his eyes follow Mav and in the way he melts whenever Mav is around, always close, always brushing against him. Mav spaces out a lot, doesn't talk much, doesn't—well, doesn't do much. Every time he tries to help with something, paperwork, the funeral arrangements, the hospital bills, even just sorting out the kids' school leave or Jake's own work leave, he fumbles a bit, not really able to focus on anything for long, and it's like his mind is completely scrambled. Jake doesn't know how to help him — doesn't know if they even can.

The kids, well, did not take it well, as expected. The oldest two try to be brave and help Jake with everything, keep the house going, but their youngest daughter doesn't really understand why her pops isn't back, the middle kids don't understand why now — Ice was in remission, in good health, would go hiking with them once a month, play with them in the backyard, talking about plans for the future with them, nothing that would tell them to expect their pops passing away. Mav and Ice had taken care of all of them for years, while Jake and Bradley were still deployable, and helping out as much as they could. Ice was a huge part of their lives, since the very beginning.

Bradley is certainly not doing any better but one couldn't be able to tell if they didn't know him well enough. He's always been more for packing his feelings into a tight neat box, compartmentalizing until there is too much and it all overflows in some explosive way. His focus is mostly on Mav and the kids, trusting Jake to take care of anything he can't.

Jake can't even ask him how he's doing until the night before the funeral.

Mav tells Bradley he wants to be alone that night and Bradley lands in their bedroom.

He acts normal — checks the kids are in bed, checks on Mav, prepares stuff for breakfast in the morning, has a shower. Only when he sits down in their bed, their dress blues, cleaned and pressed sitting on the hangers hooked up on their wardrobe, right in front of him—only then he freezes, a blank stare still on the uniforms.

Jake sits down next to him on the bed. "Talk to me, Bradley."

"I knew it was going to happen at some point, I just," "I just thought we would have a few more years."

Bradley sleeps curled up on his chest — he sleeps the whole night, soundlessly, and Jake is almost settled.

Almost. Mav is a couple doors down, alone.

Ice's been—had been retired many years now, but he had been high enough in the ranks that the Navy still insists on making a military funeral. Jake tried to take away as much of the flashy bullshit as possible, but there are still things leftover — the sailors with the flag, the flyover. But there's no one who wasn't close with the family at the ceremony, there's no speeches, and no one tries to hand either Mav or Bradley a flag.

The wake has an even smaller amount of people, all packed in their house — Mav hasn't been at his own house since — and thanks to Slider, mostly, and his 'the bastard wouldn't want us to mope around', it's less sad and quiet.

Mav eats two slices of cake, which is the most Jake's seen him eat since, and even laughs at some stories about Ice people are exchanging.

Ice had a good life. A big family. A big happy family that loved him.

But life goes on without him. Jake goes back to work first, then the kids have to go back to school, then Bradley has to back to work. After a couple of days alone at their house, Mav starts bringing up moving back to his own house.

He's not really doing great. He's still quiet, still spaces out more often than not, still forgets himself sometimes, still freezes whenever he tries to say something and the we he uses is one person short. He's—lifeless, for a lack of better word, and seems like he's noticing it now that Bradley isn't with him most of the waking hours.

"That is our home," Mav tells them. "I can't abandon it forever, I'd be abandoning him, too, if I—"

Jake—Jake gets it. He doesn't like it, but he gets it.

Bradley's been fielding off any suggestions of Mav moving out but he's pretty sure that soon Mav is going to pack his stuff and up and leave without asking for permission.

"If he wants to move back home, we can't exactly hold him here. against his will."

"Jake," Bradley says. "I feel like—if we let Mav go back there alone, he's going to die of a broken heart and I won't have either of them anymore."

"Sweetheart—"

"I know it's selfish," he interrupts, "but I can't lose him, too. Not now."

Jake can't make Mav stay with them — so he finds the best solution he can and instead, they all move in with Mav. Hell with it, he's going to try to get everyone to live their lives to the end. They'd done it before, Mav, Ice, Bradley, Jake and their two kids under one roof, when their oldest two were their only two kids.

The two of them and two of their youngest; two of their kids move into their house so they don't have to sell it.

Mav lives on. They try to occupy his mind by throwing their youngest at him — ask him to take her to school, pick her up from school, take her to her gymnastics class, do her homework with her, teach her how to play piano. The other kids pick up on it, too, and their high schoolers would wrap Mav into doing math workbooks with them, or ask him to drive them to their friends' house, and the kids that have moved out ask Mav to go to lunch together or call him to ask him things about car and house repairs that don't exist.

Mav gets brighter every day. Never as bright as before, but no longer so numb.

Their daughter ends up never moving out and so do they.

They all get older but Mav holds up pretty well. He does break his hip when trying to wash the windows, had a limp and terrible back ache ever since, had to stop driving because he can't see shit, had to stop piloting even sooner, and his memory is also shit, but Jake is pretty sure his cholesterol is lower than his own and he has better blood pressure than Bradley. Bradley and Mav are the ones cooking after all, Jake is the one eating all the tasty but not healthiest food, and Mav's life revolves around spoiling his cute great-grandkids and Bradley's is filled with the constant stress of managing Navy's top flying school.

For his ninetieth birthday, Mav flies a fighter jet as a passenger, the oldest person to ever do that — his youngest granddaughter is the one to take him up in the air, a junior grade lieutenant herself. They have a birthday party held at their house, Mav falls asleep in the armchair, Bradley makes fun of him and promptly falls asleep on the couch, too. Jake loves them both so much and still kind of can't believe he has this — house full of grown-up kids and grandkids of his own, his graying husband of over thirty years, his father-in-law coming to an age he wanted to see his mother at.

They're cleaning up, their two daughters who still don't have kids and didn't need to go home helping, and Mav tells them he's going to get some fresh air on their veranda. "I've got a terrible headache," is all he says.

Half an hour passes, they've packed all the clean and dirty dishes, and Bradley huffs to himself. "He fell asleep on the bench again, didn't he," and goes outside.

Bradley shouts for him in less than a minute. The ambulance is there in eight. Within the half-hour and a CT scan in the hospital, the neurologist tells them Mav is too far gone to survive the day. Within six hours, every single person from their family has come to say goodbye. When they pass the seven hours mark, Jake stands up from the plastic chair behind Bradley — he's not about to tell Bradley he should rest, but he's been holding Mav's hand since the minute they admitted Mav to the ward and hasn't eaten or drunk anything all day. He tells him he'll go grab them a coffee and bagels and gets a little nod and a smile.

Jake comes back twenty minutes later and Bradley doesn't even look up from where he's gripping Mav's hand.

"Can you get the nurse for me?"

#this isn't really about Ice's death or Mav's death #but more about getting old in a family #sorry in advance #dunno if this made sense #idk felt some way when i wrote it #my nan had a stroke around that time and as a person who works mainly with critical stroke patients it hit hard #i didn't get into detail here but stroke patient at the end of their lives are very emotional sight for relatives #icemav #hangster #angst #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #tgm #charlie writes #op

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