Summary: With weeks of work under your belt, the mission grows near. You are given your assignments and you’re not happy with them. Instead of putting aside your emotions - you let them drive, which makes things far more complicated than the actual mission you need to endure.
Content Warning: This is a successor to the first part, please read that first! ||This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision.
Author Note: Well, well, well, look what we have here! It’s the next part and honestly one of my favorite parts if you ask me. We’re really getting into the nitty gritty now. I’m having so much fun with y’all I hope you enjoy this part :D
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With the timeline for the mission having been pushed up, it made you that more tense and emphatically stressed. You had two days before Maverick was picking who’d be flying.
Summary: With weeks of work under your belt, the mission grows near. You are given your assignments and you’re not happy with them. Instead of putting aside your emotions - you let them drive, which makes things far more complicated than the actual mission you need to endure.
Content Warning: This is a successor to the first part, please read that first! ||This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision.
Author Note: Well, well, well, look what we have here! It’s the next part and honestly one of my favorite parts if you ask me. We’re really getting into the nitty gritty now. I’m having so much fun with y’all I hope you enjoy this part :D
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With the timeline for the mission having been pushed up, it made you that more tense and emphatically stressed. You had two days before Maverick was picking who’d be flying.
Which is why you’re sitting in the dark in the common room, F-18 manual in your lap. Unable to sleep from nerves, you put the energy towards studying. Studying what? Valid question. You knew the book inside and out, had gone through emergency training, water exercises, you’d had an engine fail on you for cripes sake. Yet, here you are with seven different colored highlighters and a fresh copy of the manual you’d tattooed to your memory.
Sipping at your (now cold) tea, you highlight the proper section with the corresponding color. You’re about to dig into the gummy bears at your side when you hear someone clearing their throat. Your head shoots up, only to be greeted with a very sleep deprived Bradshaw. Very shirtless… Bradshaw. He’s got a pair of leather sandal flip flops on and some sweatpant style shorts, rubbing at his face.
“Is this tied to the callsign or… just being weird?” He asks, rolling his wrist to check the time. “Because it’s currently 4:30 in the morning.” Soon, he’s shuffling over to the couch you’ve made home the past four hours, making room by pulling pillows off the cushions.
“Just… being weird, I guess. I couldn’t sleep.” You admit as he lets all his weight fall to the couch, looking at the book in your hand. Rooster reaches over, taking the manual and then shutting it. You’re about to dispute his actions as he takes it from you, but he’s moving far faster than you can react. A whine leaves you and he looks at you, holding the book up above you with a look that says ‘really?’
“Do you remember what Mav said, day one? They’ve got this book memorized just like you do, sweets. That’s not gonna help.” He’s quickly switching the book from one hand to the other, setting it on the other side of the couch. Once there, he’s letting his arm drop around your shoulder, slowly bringing you in, letting you get comfy against him. ”Practice is the best you can do, and you had great exercises this week.” You glance up at him and see his head is resting on the wall behind the couch, eyes closed. He looks exhausted…
“Why are you awake?” You question, shifting to get comfy as you pull a blanket over both of you.
“I woke up, grabbed a drink and saw the common room light was on. Figured I’d double check that someone wasn’t binging on gummy bears.” You roll your eyes as he speaks, but you also hear the crinkle of the candy wrapper, only for a few of the gummies to make their way to his mouth.
“Hey.” You whine, which wins you an eye peeking open and looking down at you. He smiles as he chews, pulling you closer.
“My point is, you’re gonna do just fine.” His hand is now reassuringly making a soothing path up and down your arm, both of you curled up on the couch, reaching to the gummy bear bag every now and then. It’s a few more minutes before you speak again.
“What if it doesn’t go fine? You heard Admiral Simmons. You need not one but two miracles to pull this off.” The male doesn’t give you an answer. You think he’s sleeping, honestly, but when he shifts you can tell he isn’t.
“Don’t think. Just do.” Unknown to you, Maverick had told him the same bit of advice, mere hours earlier. As the two of you sit in the common room, he begins to hum a tune, making you smile, closing your own eyes. It’s not long after that he’s patting your arm. “Hey, grab a coat, I’ve got an idea.”
You pick up all your stuff and navigate to your dorm, dropping everything off, grabbing the first jacket you see, a streak of denim blue following you as you make your way to the parking lot again. Once there, Rooster opens your door before jumping in. It doesn’t take him long to find his destination, a parking lot right along the shore, not even off base. It’s the Commander’s Beach, which meant it was for the Navy’s use only. But, he backed into the spot, guided you to the trunk, and curled you both up in blankets just as the orange hue of the sun began to come from the shoreline. You’re laid back on his chest, resting comfortably as you watch the colors transform the sky, the darkness of the night slipping away as the colors melt together. Rooster glances up at the sky every now and then, but he’s solely watching you. Your reactions, how your face breaks out into a smile when you spot dolphins surfacing just off the shore. You’re pointing them out and then looking up at him, finding that he’s looking at you instead. Your joint gaze is held for a while, before he’s initiating a kiss, one that stood out from all the others. Not only was he upside down, giving you a new experience, but he had you in his arms, carefully wrapped around you almost in a protective wall. When he pulls away, he pushes hair from your face, the pad of his thumb lingering over your skin. You give him a small smile before looking back to the sun. His eyes don’t shift away from you. He’s not thinking. He’s just doing what he wants to. And that’s looking at the girl he loves.
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The night before was always the worst, no matter what was going on. Before leaving for an assignment, before a test, really anything where you didn’t know the outcome? You would be up all night despite preparing in any way you plausibly could.
So you laid in bed tossing and turning, making mental notes and lists of what you needed to finish packing before you were sent out of the country to board a ship in the middle of the Atlantic. It wasn’t going to be a long stay, well… at least you weren’t planning on it being long. It could easily turn into an eternity on a dime.
You’re still awake when your alarm goes off, signifying it’s time to move forward. Up and out for the day. Which, you take your time readying yourself. Putting your hair up, getting your things together. As you exit your dorm, Phoenix is quick to your side, grabbing your bicep. “Morning, champ. You ready for this?” Maybe she doesn’t share your nerves. Hell, she seems excited out of all things. Mentally, you’re telling yourself to share in her excitement, yet the pit that’s growing in your stomach reminds you of the gravity of it all.
“I’m not sure… it just seems like it came so fast.” You suggest, which gets her shrugging.
“That’s life in the navy I suppose. C’mon, I’ll walk with you.”
The two of you arrive at a very different looking hangar than the first day you had all arrived. There’s no chairs, no whiteboards or projector screens. Not even a lectern. It’s empty. A clean slate. The lights were out, all except one or two toward the front of the building, and the doors were shut, giving a very intimidating feel. One by one, sailors arrived, each of you having something to add to the conversation. Rooster arrived not looking like himself. His head stayed down in thought for most of the time prior towards the looming discussion. All of you were nearly walking on eggshells. Six of you would fly. Six of you would sit on the carrier and wait. Wait and listen.
When the Admirals arrive, they’re the ones with the first announcement. “Captain Mitchell will be announcing his decisions in a moment. But first, we are here to inform you, that after his impromptu performance of demonstrating the anticipated outcome of this mission - he will be the squadron leader and fly with those chosen. It has been a pleasure overseeing you all. Make our country proud.” Halfway through the announcement, Maverick had snuck in with the hope of staying hidden. As he approaches the group, he seems to look out over the twelve of you.
“I have had the most incredible privilege of being your instructor these last four weeks. Each of you has a terrific skill set to offer and I have enjoyed watching you each flourish under the most rigid conditions. Before I list the members that will comprise this squadron, I want you each to take a moment to reflect on where you began when you entered this hangar on day one. None of you are the same pilot that you were that day. I would even dare to say that none of you are the same people. I’ve gotten to know each of you and it… has been incredibly difficult knowing that I am sending you into the best challenge of your career but also possibly your final one.” He takes a moment, collecting the best set of words to put together what he was attempting to say. “I… am so proud of the individuals you are. The pilots you are. The people you are. It’s been an honor.” Maverick clears his throat. “When I went through these assignments, I took my time. I contemplated, I looked… at your strengths. Your weaknesses. Your dedication to your team. It took me a damn long time, but.. I am confident in this team. I am confident in each of you.”
The way he looks over you… it’s calming. Almost as if paying his respects one final time. It’s eerie and simultaneously thrill inducing.
“Flying on my back in Dagger 2-”
You catch your breath. This is it, the payoff. The hours of studying, the first one at the lecture hall, the countless hours of training, the memorizations and the protocol recitings. This is your position. Your redemption.
“will be…Rooster.”
If you weren’t at attention, you’d be having a conniption. An aneurysm. You’d be rioting. And if you didn’t have respect for Maverick - you’d be right on his chest, screaming in his face. Your fingernails are digging so deeply into your palms that you nearly think there’s blood being drawn.
“Dagger 3 will be Moonshine and Payback. Following on all of our tails will be Phoenix and Bob.” He gives a nod that is reciprocated by each of you. “Those of you who are flying, take care of yourselves the next few days. Get good rest. Those of you who will be on deck - same goes to you.” A nod from all of you before Maverick gets a wild smirk on his features. “This has been your captain speaking. Thank you for flying with us.”
When you are released, you’re making a beeline to your dorm. With the rest of the day free to do as you please, you’re going to finish packing and get the hell away from base. You needed a release and a way to just forget this for now. So you go to your dorm, keep the door shut and blast your music as loud as physically possible while also not being a hindrance to those around you. It’s so loud that you barely register the knock on your door. You throw the door open only to be met with Rooster looking at you with a grin.
“Phoenix and crew are headed to Hard Deck for one last round of pool and beer before we head out tomorrow, I was wondering… are you packing?” The original statement gets lost when he recognizes the bags that have piled up on your bed. He’s leaning against the doorframe, already out of his issued uniform, in standard fashion of a vest, a Hawaiian shirt and aviators on top of his head. You had turned away from the door the second it was open, a quick roll of your eyes at his mischievous grin, quickly resuming your task of folding things somewhat sloppily, trying to complete the task with speed.
“Yes, I’m packing.” Short, simple and to the point - hopefully, he takes the hint.
“We’ve got plenty of time for that later, c’mon, Bob was even going to do a shot or two.” There’s humor in his statement, a smirk on his face as he speaks. Rooster takes a step further into your room, making you stop and turn toward him.
“I want to get packed and the hell out of here. So if you wouldn’t mind.” You’re about to move past him toward your ensuite bathroom when he cuts your path off, forcing you to freeze in front of him.
“Okay, what the hell is your deal? We’re about to go on this huge mission and want one more day before we get shipped out and you’re in here packing like you’re going to fucking Disney World.” Each word is sharp, a sense of offense in his tone, as though he was contagious and that was the reason you were making haste.
“Well that’s certainly what it is to you, now isn’t it?” You snap so quickly, not even sure where the stinging venom in your voice is coming from. Your attitude is soon being reflected right back at you as though you were staring in a mirror.
“Ohthat’swhat this is about??” In rapid succession, Rooster is boomeranging the same attitude back to you. “Moon, you heard what Mav said, he went through hours to plan that out, it’s not a ranking.” He tries to console you on it, stepping forward toward you, an outstretched hand in your direction. However, you shrink away from him, avoiding his touch.
“No, no, it’s most definitely a ranking. One that I was working my ass off to try to top again, yet there he is in all his glory: Rooster Bradshaw everyone. Do you even know-” You speak mockingly and witness frustrating building as a hand pulls itself into a fist before he interrupts you.
“It’s just a ranking, seriously, I’m rather certain there is far bigger fish to fry here-”
“I thought it wasn’t a ranking?? So which one is it, because I’m getting mixed signals here. If they are rankings-” You ignore Rooster’s groan as you cross your arms over your chest.
“God, you are making this so difficult! Just let it go, alright? C’mon, we’ll get a drink and we can all forget about it. It’s really not a big deal-” Once more, he’s trying to grab your hand, making contact which forces you to wrench it out of his grip.
“Let it go? Like the last time I ended up second to you?!” You whine, throwing your hands up and turning to grab your open bag, shifting it on the bed - doing something aside from having to look at him. “Phoenix was right I -”
“What was she right about?” His tone is firm, irritated, and hoarse. “Huh? Please show me the light, because clearly she knows so much more than either of us.” Rooster’s gaze on you stays firm, his jaw clenching as he waits for a response from you.
Finally you’re snapping at him, unable to dance around it. “As if you didn’t know what game you were playing. From day one you’ve been planning it, trying to distract me again so that you could come out -”
“Distract you??” His voice bellows over yours, drowning out your attempts to speak. “ If I wanted to distract you I would’ve been a whole lot fucking more forward, I think I can tell you that much!”
You’re starting to grab more things from your dresser in a feeble attempt to avoid looking at him. The last thing you want to do is see him, yet here he stands in your bedroom. He’s scoffing, a hand running through his hair as you turn to face him.
“I can’t believe you’re seeing this as a bad thing, Moon. Youwere chosen out of the top candidates in the last five years - one of twelveairmen. One of two women in a very small group of individuals, and to top it off you were placed SECONDto them. Out of the twelve which is a like - like - like zero point seven something or some shit. You worked overtime to get here. Absolutely busted your ass, so you acting like -”
“Acting like what?? Like a fool? ‘Cause that’s exactlyhow I feel right now-”
Exhausted, Rooster pushes fingers through his hair, gripping the ends of them with exasperation before releasing them, letting a few strands drift across his forehead. “Why the hell would you feel like a fool?? It’s not like you-”
“You’re not even listening to me! I can’t get more than two words in-”
“Because there’s nothing to listen to!! You should be so proud of yourself and you’re acting as though this is the worst thing in the world-”
“It fucking feels like it!! I wanted your spot! I wanted to be at the head of it all, I worked my ass off, and you trickedme and pulled me away-” There’s a weak attempt to voice your concerns, yet he doesn’t give you the opportunity.
“I didn’t pull you away from anything! You were the one who insisted we try to get along-”
“For the sake of our jobs!!You’re the one that kissed me! As if thatwasn’t going to fuck with my head-”
The brown haired pilot is nearly screaming over top of you now. “Well sorry!! Is that what you want?? Sorry that I kissed you? Sorry that I showed you attention and some civility as we march towards what might be our deaths?? I don’t know what you want-”
“I want Dagger 2 and I can’t have it!! You know that! That’s allI’ve wanted the whole-”
“Enough,enough! I’m tired of this! You’re too in your head, Moon! This is sucha big deal and you’re not looking at it that way, I don’t know whyyou can’t see that! You should be so damn proud of getting here-”
“Oh, so you’re my dadnow?? Is that what this is?!”
It’s suddenly quiet.
All the energy from your voices has filled the room, making the air thick as he recoils, stepping back. Rooster’s face is tight, an emotion you can’t place fills it, leaving him frozen.
“Roost, I-”
“Good afternoon, Lieutenant.” He avoids your face as he turns to the door. With the way he grips the handle, you could have sworn he was going to rip it right off its hinges. Following him, you step into the hallway even though he’s already halfway down it.
“Rooster, I’m sorry, please- Rooster!” You try again, but all you hear are his firm steps, each of them echoing in the hall. “Bradley!” One last try, only to watch him disappear out the door into the sunlight that spills over the base.
After everything you’d both done to get to a common ground, to be able to work with one another without being absolutely repulsed at each other - it had suddenly vaporized into the air while the two of you argued.
It’s easy to hear the words repeat themselves in your head, despite the hustle of the airport around you. You didn’t fly commercially that often, since most times the Navy would get you a seat on one of the commercial charters and you’d get around that way. But this was different, you were headed out of the country, on a one way ticket. Once you’d landed you’d sit and wait for one of the pilots on-deck of the carrier to come and collect you, and then you’d be in the middle of the ocean, ready for what might be your final flight.
Someone pulls you out of your thoughts, making you tug off your headphones in the most unprofessional manner. “Sorry to bother you, we just wanted to thank you for your service. God bless you.” You give them a nod and smile in response before you’re sliding your headphones back on. You’re rarely in your Service Whites - save for Admiral Kazansky’s funeral - especially while traveling, but this is different.
It’s making you stand out more than you’d like to, interruptions happening every so often, being pointed at by young children and having their parents scold them - it makes you uneasy. It’s the last thing you should be feeling right now. What you should be feeling is long gone. Confidence, honor, dignity…
Pride.
You can hear his voice saying it. It makes you shiver, causing you shift in an attempt to readjust yourself, something you’ve already had to do multiple times in this uniform. It’s stiff and it’s not the most comfortable thing, primarily because it’s tight to your skin. There’s nothing you wanted more than a huge sweatshirt and leggings right now.
Boarding the plane first was also such an odd standard of practice, yet you do so. And as you sit while everyone else boards, you continue to get thank yous and words of encouragement. Not that any of them resonated. These were strangers, many of them thanking you out of obligations that society had instilled. To make matters worse, the flight attendant decides to highlight the ‘military service member on board’. If you could hide in the checked baggage compartment you would happily do so. Anything had to be better than this.
The flight is long and you still can’t sleep. Primarily since training had accustomed you to feeling awake when you felt an active engine - which you most definitely could through the floor of the cabin. With little sleep and more nerves than when you started the trip with, the plane lands and you’re quickly getting off of it. Your phone comes to life with text messages from a familiar name. You smile as you read it over.
‘Hey Sailor, I heard there were big things in store for you. Some of the very best pilots are with you - which includes yourself. Don’t doubt your skills. I can’t imagine how nerve wracking going away must be so I am sending you all my luck. Come back home soon.’
Natalie always seemed to have impeccable timing.
‘Hey stranger, just landed. Haven’t been able to sleep. Some of the best pilots indeed. Some *very* familiar faces too.’
‘Oh shut up, is he there?’
‘Not actively but he’s in the squadron, yes.’
‘I’m sure that’s been fun.’
You know she means it as a jab at Rooster, but honestly… the last few weeks hadbeen fun. Growing closer with the team, with Maverick - finally getting along with Rooster… it had all been rather gratifying. It’s idiotic when you think about it.
Even if Rooster had been distracting you, you’d enjoyed every minute of his distractions. You’d grown fond of being around him which was such a crazy change from when you’d initially returned to Miramar. When seeing him made your blood boil, where now when you saw him your skin was on fire. Any time he was close you felt so strangely at home, so reassured…
You needed to apologize. As soon as you could.
The hours of lead up to this mission left you nearly following him like a lost stray. You would track him down to his location on the ship and when you did find him, he’d turn the other way. Mealtimes you’d sit at his table, just for him to get up. He was rarely in the gym, probably because he knew you’d be looking for him. When all other avenues had failed, you’d tried to ask Bob or Coyote - hell you’d even stooped so low as to ask Hangman for help. All of them gave you the same answer: he wasn’t listening.
So when you climbed into your bunk the night before the mission, you laid down with defeat and nerves blazing. Hours felt like minutes as you imagined every possible scenario that could occur tomorrow. You were directly putting a team of six into the fire with hopes they weren’t flammable. No fire alarms, no extinguishers - facing the heat dead on. Before you can even register how much time has passed since you crawled under the sheets, your alarm is going off, forcing you to grab the device and silence it before it wakes up your bunk mates.
Getting dressed, you’re up and attempting to prepare yourself. Yet, when you look in the mirror, you’re far from ready. Your hair is all over the place, the normal pristine hairstyle you’ve been doing for years is gone, instead, it’s a mess of an attempt at a ponytail. You can’t put yourself together. You had to retie your boots nearly four times and lost your name badge in between the time of going to bed and getting out of it. Your nerves had you all sorts of frayed like a wire.
You needed a level head, you didn’t want to bother anyone else who was also flying, but you really needed the advice. So, somewhat shakily, you’re knocking on the private quarters door. When the door squeaks open, you find Maverick still in his sleep shirt and boxers. “Moonshine? We’re not meant to be up on deck for like-” He pauses and rapidly looks to his watch, almost wondering if he’s overslept.
“We still have two hours. I just.. Needed to talk.” Maverick nods and holds up a finger.
“Alright, ‘kay, gimme like.. A minute. We can go get coffee.” He’s clearly not used to being up this early - that much was clear. There’s not windows in this hallway, but you can tell his room was still pitch black thanks to the early hour. He shuts the door and is quickly moving to dress. Soon enough, he’s on his way out to the mess hall where a coffee shop stood. He orders his usual coffee, but leaves the order ticket open so you can order. You weren’t sure you could eat anything, but you order a coffee anyway - hoping it would help.
Once your cups are in hand, the two of you grab a seat, Maverick sipping at his desperately seeking the caffeine. “Okay, kid. What’s going on?” With a sigh, you’re trying to get out the words.
“I- well, there’s a lot more to it than just this but- I don’t think I can fly.” You nervously look at him, yet he’s looking at you like you told him the sky was blue. With a slow sip, he puts his cup down.
“And why’s that, Shiner?” He’s unimpressed, and you begin to ramble.
“I haven’t slept, Maverick, I haven’t been able to eat, I barely could get dressed this morning, I haven’t had caffeine until now and my hands are shaking - I don’t even know how to start the damn plane if you’d asked me right now, I’m just panicking and scared-”
“There it is.” He has a pointed finger in your direction, cutting you off. His gaze meets yours, holding his cup with both hands as it sits on the table. “You are scared. And that is beyond logical. You’re about to do something that could possibly get you killed. It’s not an easy feeling and from what I know… there’s no real solution.” You shrink at this admission.
“I- but Ma-Captain,” you’re switching his name as you see a higher ranking officer walk by, “how the hell do you expect me to fly a jet properly when I’m terrified?”
“You’d be surprised.” This confuses you. “Fear can make you do incredible things.” It’s then that he’s reaching out and taking your hand. “I think you have what it takes to do this, Moonshine. You’re here because I know you have the skills, the reaction time and the wherewithal to get through this.” You shake your head, beginning to disagree:
“I wasn’t good enough for Dagger 2, how on earth would I be good enough for this eith-”
Maverick’s turn to cut you off. “You think you weren’t good enough for Dagger 2? No, no, kid, I chose you for Dagger 3 for a reason. I thought you would be able to hit the target, no matter where it was.” He’s using his coffee cup and his hands to talk as he launches into his explanation. “If both Rooster and I miss this target, you are the last line to have the chance to hit it before Phoenix can take her shot. If we fail, you are the onlyperson who can ensure we have a chance to get below ground. You’re in Dagger 3 because I have fullconfidence in your shooting skills.” A wave of clarity floods over you at his words.
You hadn’t come second. You’d came first. Before Maverick. You’d been given the most difficult position. While you were the fallback, you were the last line of defense. If everything went wrong, they were relying on you.
“Oh my god.” You scoff in surprise, a hand moving to your forehead. It’s a mixture of pure shock, and heavy realization.
You’d fought with Rooster - for no reason. And he wouldn’t talk to you, wouldn’t even let you get a message to him.
Summary: After a rowdy night of drinks and some beachside conversation, you find yourself growing closer to your new squadron, one member and one night drive at a time.
Content Warning: This is a successor to the first part, please read that first! ||This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision. || tw: death mention, major character death, spoilers for TG: Maverick
Author Note: I am not hopelessly cruel, really, so I am going to be pretty quick with these uploads, so long as I get the last section done that - admittedly - still isn’t written. I love, love, love hearing your feedback so please do not hesitate to comment, reblog, flood my askbox, I wanna know your thoughts!!
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By the time you’re ready to go, most of the bar’s patrons had funneled out, including most of your squadron. Payback still sat on the other end of the bar, talking to a girl you didn’t recognize. You’d spent most of your time catching up with Penny, talking and ordering drink after drink. With abundant laughter rolling through you, the woman sighs looking at her watch. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Shiner, but it’s past 2. Bar’s closed for the night.”
Summary: When you hit a certain point in your career, you tend to crave a challenge. Well what if that challenge included near impossible feats, 12 of the best pilots in the Naval Airforce and the last person you wanted to ever see?
Content Warning: This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision.
Author Note: It’s hereeeeee - I have the entire story ready to roll and will be posting it in sections as to better navigate through. I’ve worked so incredibly hard on this so I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do! I would be remiss to not mention the countless beta reader’s who have helped me edit and prepare this story so a massive thank you goes out to them for all their help!!!
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You knew that joining the Navy would be a gamble. The ratio of women to men in this field was beyond staggering, as you and your other female counterparts made up the meek 12% of all Naval pilots, so there were inevitable barriers to overcome. First were the misplaced doubts and beliefs that you wouldn’t be able to do the job. Next were the taunts, teases and unwelcome eyes.
Hiya, so the general verdict is you want part 3, which - valid. So, it’s gonna go up tomorrow (6/14/22) sometime before midnight EST time. Which, I know that’s a long time, so I offer up a piece to get you by.
“Phoenix and crew are headed to Hard Deck for one last round of pool and beer before we head out tomorrow, I was wondering… are you packing?” The original statement gets lost when he recognizes the bags that have piled up on your bed. He’s leaning against the doorframe, already out of his issued uniform, in standard fashion of a vest, a Hawaiian shirt and aviators on top of his head. You had turned away from the door the second it was open, a quick roll of your eyes at his mischievous grin, quickly resuming your task of folding things somewhat sloppily, trying to complete the task with speed.
“Yes, I’m packing.” Short, simple and to the point - hopefully, he takes the hint.
“We’ve got plenty of time for that later, c’mon, Bob was even going to do a shot or two.” There’s humor in his statement, a smirk on his face as he speaks. Rooster takes a step further into your room, making you stop and turn toward him.
“I want to get packed and the hell out of here. So if you wouldn’tmind.” You’re about to move past him toward your ensuite bathroom when he cuts your path off, forcing you to freeze in front of him.
Summary: After a rowdy night of drinks and some beachside conversation, you find yourself growing closer to your new squadron, one member and one night drive at a time.
Content Warning: This is a successor to the first part, please read that first! ||This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision. || tw: death mention, major character death, spoilers for TG: Maverick
Author Note: I am not hopelessly cruel, really, so I am going to be pretty quick with these uploads, so long as I get the last section done that - admittedly - still isn’t written. I love, love, love hearing your feedback so please do not hesitate to comment, reblog, flood my askbox, I wanna know your thoughts!!
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By the time you’re ready to go, most of the bar’s patrons had funneled out, including most of your squadron. Payback still sat on the other end of the bar, talking to a girl you didn’t recognize. You’d spent most of your time catching up with Penny, talking and ordering drink after drink. With abundant laughter rolling through you, the woman sighs looking at her watch. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Shiner, but it’s past 2. Bar’s closed for the night.”
Summary: So much is riding on this mission, including your future, and that of those you’ve come to adore like family. When a tumultuous turn of events has you doing emotional somersaults, you’re overwhelmed with everything this career has brought to you, including this moment.
Content Warning: This is a successor to the first parts, please read that first! || This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision. || MOST DEFINITELY SPOILERS FOR TOP GUN MAVERICK!! you’ve been warned. Tw; topics of death, plane accidents
Author Note: oh hey there, you’re still reading this stuff? well i’m glad you are !! i’m in the midst of writing the next part and you guys are not ready for this. i also know this part is a smidge short, but i promise you it’s so so so much more than just a word count. with that - enjoy!!
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With the discussion with Maverick under your belt - and some newfound confidence thanks to the information that was revealed, you were able to get some food in you. You then sat on deck, drumming your fingers on your helmet as you watch the sun rise. You jump when you hear a voice from behind you. To your surprise, it’s Hangman. You look up at him as your mind registers his words. ‘It’s at least a clear day.’
“Yeah. Maybe it’ll be a little easier.” You hum, feeling him take a seat next to you.
“No luck with Rooster?” He asks, leaving you more surprised. It makes you look at his face, which for the first time doesn’t have the familiar daredevil grin on his features. Jake Seresin was never one to be serious. This was a version of him that you didn’t exactly enjoy.
“No.” You sigh, turning your head back to the brightening colors in the sky. “I feel so damn guilty. It was over nothing too.” Your fingers are tracing over the crescent moon shape that’s painted on your helmet, shades of navy blue, yellow and stars litter the surface, your callsign written in a pleasant calligraphy font.
“Well… maybe you try when he’s forced to hear you?” Hangman suggests and you furrow your brows, looking over your shoulder.
“Jake, are you suggesting I try talking to him in the air? Mid-mission? Don’t you think we’ll be a little preoccupied?” You ask with a breath of air moving through you with astonishment. He shrinks.
“Yeah… I guess.” The two of you sit in the quiet again.
“Thanks for trying to find a solution, Hangman. But I don’t think there’s any bandaging that’s going to stick before we get in the air.” With that, you’re standing from your crisscross spot, reaching out a hand and helping him to his feet. He takes it, standing upright, pulling you to his chest and gripping onto you tight.
“You come home. You hear?” A weak smile fills your face - not that he can see it with it hidden in his flight suit.
“Loud and clear.”
Taking to the flightdeck, you can feel your heartbeat in every step you take toward your jet. Coyote is right beside you, quiet as a church mouse. It’s not long after that your helmet is on, in your spot in the pilot’s seat, adjusting your mask to loosely hang from its snaps. You take one last look around the flightdeck, seeing faces watching you. You spot Hangman and Payback standing at attention, a firm salute to the six of you. As the canopy comes down to seal the two of you in, you return it, somewhat teary eyed.
You can only hope this isn’t the last you’ll be seeing them. God, you hope it isn’t.
The force of takeoff that used to be so thrill inducing instead feels like dread following you. You’re pushed against your seat with the movement, scaling into the air.
The airtower is confirming each of your names, confirming your radio connections. It’s the first time you hear his voice in what feels like weeks.
“Dagger 2.” It’s almost impossible to ignore the slight shake in his voice. He’s as scared as you are, and neither of you were ready to face this.
Yet here it was.
With each mile you gain towards the target, the more your stomach aches. Approaching the mountain range, you know that this is no dream, no practice run.
Don’t think. Do.
Each turn has you sliding, forcing yourself to take calculated breaths, making sure that you’re getting enough oxygen. It’s easy to forget that you’re already on the clock, but Coyote’s keeping track. Luckily.
You nearly graze the one mountain, and can hear Phoenix. “Easy, Dagger 3. You’re over-adjusting.” A breath as you enter your next turn, your entire body moving with the force. Finally, you’re out of the turns, pulling up in a straight climb. Your entire body is vibrating, your mind racing. You can hear Maverick in front of you, initiating the first round of firing. Miss. It’s now Rooster’s turn to take a shot. The carrier tower confirms the missile missed its target. As you’re climbing, you’re hearing him struggle to get the target to align. With no confirmed lock on target, he’s firing. Contact.
With contact made, half the miracle work is done. That was only the first shot. You had to make the second one.
The final one.
If you don’t lock on, you can’t take the shot. Then you risk Phoenix missing as well. All your efforts would be for nothing- leaving you running from enemy fire, in a desperate attempt to get back to the carrier. You dip into the valley, a shake in the jet as you shift the crosshairs, the screen flickering with the vibrations from the speed. “Starting targeting.” A breath in, one out. It feels like you’re hyperventilating, yet taking the slowest breaths. In a brief moment, the target locks and you take your shot - without confirmation.”Dagger 3, did you take the shot? Dagger 3?”
You don’t remember if contact was made. All you remember is shifting into escape mode. Rising from the valley, into smoke filling the sky, immediately pulling up as hard as you can, the entire jet shaking as if you were careening from the sky, yet you’re going the oppositedirection. You’ve nearly cleared the peak when it comes over your comms.
“Dagger 1 has been hit. I repeat, Dagger 1 has been hit.” Your stomach drops, forcing you to push further. No, no, no. He needs help, he needs backup, a wingman. You want to get to him - needto get to him. As you increase the speed, your vision is beginning to go dark at the edges.
“Moonshine, we’re pushing 10 Gs as it is!” Coyote comes from behind you but you don’t hear him.
10.1 10.2 10.3
Finally you clear the peak,making the aggressive change in direction, leaving you plummeting to the ground, soaring down, beginning the onslaught of avoiding enemy fire. Your hands are moving faster than your brain. You barely register what’s happening, but it’s that drive that gets out and into the clear. You feel faint, on the verge of blacking out, and it’s likely showing. Your name is coming through the comms’ Coyote’s searching for confirmation that you’re alright. With no words exchanged, the tower is checking in, forcing a response from you: “Dagger 3 is clear. No damage.”
“We have to get him.” Rooster’s voice comes through. Oh God, Rooster don’t-
“Dagger 2 you are to return to the carrier. We have no signal on Dagger 1, there is nothing we can do.”
“We can’t just do nothing.” There’s tension in his voice, which leaves you with tears in your eyes. You want to go back, you want to support Rooster. Maverick. God, Maverick.
“You have firm orders.” Another voice, “Dagger 2 is out of position.”
“Lt. Bradshaw. Bradshaw!” There’s no response. You attempt to reach out to him.
“Rooster! Rooster come on.” It’s then that you realize you’re not getting any feedback. “Coyote, can you hear me?” Pressing every button on your comms, you’re not getting anything. Nothing from your RIO, nothing from Dagger 4, the tower, Rooster.
Nothing.
For the next thirty minutes, it’s you and the radio static as you lurch forward to the carrier. You rush your landing, well knowing that your aeronautics instructor would have heavilyreprimanded you for such a landing. You’re numb, not from the vibration of the plane, or the screeching halt you’d suddenly come to.
You’re numb, because your favorite people were either MIA or on the way into enemy fire.
As soon as the canopy’s clear, you’re jumping from the craft and running, running to the tower. Despite the people yelling at you since the runway is active, Coyote begging you to stop. There’s no time for the elevator, so you’re taking the stairs, two at a time. Moving at such a speed, you inevitably trip, scraping the palms of your hands on the metal before getting up again. The sting of your hands pales to the ringing of your head, but you have no care or concern for your own well being at this moment. By the time you’ve reached the last landing, you’re gasping for air, barely any energy remaining. The door to the room moves with ease, and when you step in, all eyes are on you.
The room is quiet when you throw the door open. Admiral Simmons looks at you, your rank leaving his mouth. “Dagger 2. Did he find him? Did Rooster find Maverick?” You’re panting, your lungs on fire. Eagerly, you’re waiting for an answer.
There’s not a soul who dares to move, to speak. “Well??” One of the traffic controls turns to you.
“Dagger 2 was hit. We just lost signal.”
Your heart jumps into your throat. There’s barely any air moving through your lungs as it is, but now you can’t even begin to take a breath. Your chest is tight, the dark room spinning around you as tears flood your vision. “No… no .. but-but he’s okay? They’re okay… they haveto be okay.” It’s a near sob that breaks through you, multiple sets of hands reaching your shoulders, guiding you out of the control tower room.
You can tell you’re moving, yet your legs aren’t going anywhere. It’s then that you realize that Bob has an arm under your shoulder, Payback on your left. They’re physicallycarrying you down the steps as tears leave you immobile. They move with such caution, such care, yet your vision blurs it like they’re moving 100 miles per minute. When they get to the bottom of the staircase, they’re taking a break, trying to get through to you. You can’t. You… can’t do this without them.
Withouthim.
Your day started with hours feeling as though they were minutes. Yet now, curled in your bunk, you feel like minutes have become hours. Luckily for you, most of the cohabitants of the room had their own tasks at hand so they were not bothering you. Though, that meant they didn’t know. In a blissful state of ignorance.
Two pilots were presumed to be dead. Two men who had helped you get to this spot, whether you were willing to admit that or not. The creaking of the quarter door has you shifting your head toward the sound. The lights were completely out, leaving a halo over the person entering, that was until she turns on the lights. “Shiner?” You pull the sheets over your head, a whimper accompanying it. Maybe you were being selfish right now. You were sure Phoenix wasn’t taking this easy either. With that reminder, you push the sheets back again, climbing from the bunk and to the floor where she joins you. “Bob and the rest of the guys were worried about you but… didn’t want to…” She nods her head toward the room, well knowing that men weren’t permitted in the sectioned off area of the ship.
“Right.” A slight laugh pairs with it as you wipe at your eyes. Sniffing, you take a look at her. Her hair is out of place from her helmet, her eyes just as red as your own had to be. You sigh and let your head hit the middle bunk, trying to stop the tears. Natasha speaks so softly in the eerie quiet.
“Did you tell him?” The words crush you further, another wave begins to drown you in grief. You fall into her shoulder, where she’s wrapping her arms around you.
“If you knew, I hope that he did.” Your voice cracks when you say it. “I can’t… it never got to be love. I lovedhim. I didn’t get to lovehim.” Natasha’s heart is breaking for you, her hand moving to the side of your head as your diaphragm muscle spasms, making your breath skip as you try to pull air into your lungs. She pulls your head toward her shoulder, your temple meeting the edge of her green t-shirt, soon enough stained with tears.
“We’re all here for you, hon’. I brought you something from the commissary, it’s not gonna fix anything, but I just.. Hoped it could ease some of the big emotions.” She’s reaching into her pocket, struggling to pull out whatever she crammed into it. When it’s successfully released from the confines, she hands the package to you, making you pick up your head as she presents it. A mellow smile stretches across your face as tears flood your eyes again, hands carefully taking the gold packaging. Looking at you through the clear window in the plastic is a parade of rainbow gummy bears. A laugh starts to breathe life into your lungs, Phoenix looks at you with a confused smile. “What?”
“Nothing.” You smile as you start to open the package, offering her some when it’s finally open. She’s happy to take some, leaving the two of you on the women’s quarter floor, a bag of gummies between the two of you, tears silently running down each other’s faces.
It takes you another half hour or so to collect yourself off the floor, wash your face with cold water, blow your nose - compose yourself. You would have a debriefing to get to, no doubt about it. You’re leaning onto the sink basin, taking a shaky breath before looking into the mirror. As you’re thinking of exiting - the mirror rattles on the steel walls, the floor vibrates, a roaring coming from floors above you.
Everyone had been grounded. So why was there a plane taking off?
Exiting the bathroom, you’re following the hallway to the nearest staircase. After already breaking into the control tower once, you move to the nearest jet and helmet, listening to the comms channel. “Lt. Seresin, ground your plane, immediately.”
“You said there was a signal, and with all due respect, if there is a sailor out there on their own, I’ll be damned if I’m sitting around and letting them die from my lack of action.”
Signal??
“What signal??” You jump on the line, only to be scolded as well. “I’m not flying, I’m listening. What signal is he talking about?”
“Maverick has a signal. He’s out there, I’m not letting him down.” A breath. Stay put, Mav. You’re mentally begging him to just sit and wait.
“Jake.” You warn, hearing him muttering something else.
“Yeah?”
“Bring him home.”
In the half hour it should’ve taken Hangman to get there, you learned that Maverick had stolen an enemy craft and was attempting to fly that back to the carrier. They had no line of communication, just some signals and plane stats. It was nail biting to say the least. The radio crackles to life again. “I have visual on Maverick - and what looks to be Rooster.”
Your forehead drops to the side of the plane as relief sings through your heart. He’s alive. He’s alive. There’s minimal time for celebration as a rapid succession of events occurs. In the time of spotting them, Jake is firing shots and missiles - just barely saving their asses. You can hear laughter on Hangman’s end, some sort of teasing response to being a hero, before telling them he’d see them on deck.
And you thought yourlanding was rough. The entire ship seemed to shake with intensity as the old craft scraped the asphalt - a horrifying sound pairing it. What without any wheels, there were less predictable endings. Upon stopping, you can see smoke and crew immediately hosing the nose of the jet down with extinguishers. Yet, the canopy pops up, a rather smiley Maverick popping up. “Did you guys miss us?” He cries out and you’re running again. You’re not the only one to start crowding the jet, but you’re certainly the closest to it.
As you’re running, you watch as the brown haired male climbs from the jet, a little unstable when he reaches the ground. “Bradley!!” His head pokes up just in time for your chests to collide, your arms wrapping around him in the tightest death grip, tucking themselves under his armpits, your face crushing into his chest. Sore arms reciprocate the grip you have on him to hold onto you, reassuringly his head comes to meet the top of yours as sobs start up again. You barely make out the shushing sounds he’s offering over the cheers and chants overwhelming the top of the ship. A hand rubbing your back slowly, he’s squeezing you with all he has left in him. You don’t dare let go, gripping the canvas of his flight suit, taking a deep breath of himinto your senses. It’s instant reassurance, this isn’t an imposter, a doppleganger, a replacement. It’s Bradley.
“Moon,” Rooster finally speaks, his grip loosening on you, trying to pull you away. Instead, you hold on tighter, not wanting to release him. “Moon. Let go.”
“No. Don’t make me, please, don’t make me.” Your words are muffled by his shoulder, which he is prying you from. When your eyes meet, you witness a new kind of relief. Not your own, but his. The blonde is soon taking your hand, undoing the zipper of his suit slightly, only to guide your hand onto his chest. Hazel hues connect with yours again.
“You feel that?” He quips, forcing you to nod rather hesitantly, a sniff matching it. Under your palm you can feel his pulse, his heart absolutely racing. “I’m here. I’m alive.” Rooster’s grip on your hand tightens at the words. “I’m not going anywhere, Moon. I promise.”
If your user is on here but you weren’t tagged, it wouldn’t let me tag you! Sign up for the tag list here. If you asked to be tagged through the google forms and weren’t it is likely you were underage and i refused to tag you. i am reminding you now that this is an 18+ space and it is for your safety that I ask you not to engage with any of my content. thank you.
Summary: With weeks of work under your belt, the mission grows near. You are given your assignments and you’re not happy with them. Instead of putting aside your emotions - you let them drive, which makes things far more complicated than the actual mission you need to endure.
Content Warning: This is a successor to the first part, please read that first! ||This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision.
Author Note: Well, well, well, look what we have here! It’s the next part and honestly one of my favorite parts if you ask me. We’re really getting into the nitty gritty now. I’m having so much fun with y’all I hope you enjoy this part :D
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With the timeline for the mission having been pushed up, it made you that more tense and emphatically stressed. You had two days before Maverick was picking who’d be flying.
Summary: When you hit a certain point in your career, you tend to crave a challenge. Well what if that challenge included near impossible feats, 12 of the best pilots in the Naval Airforce and the last person you wanted to ever see?
Content Warning: This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision.
Author Note: It’s hereeeeee - I have the entire story ready to roll and will be posting it in sections as to better navigate through. I’ve worked so incredibly hard on this so I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do! I would be remiss to not mention the countless beta reader’s who have helped me edit and prepare this story so a massive thank you goes out to them for all their help!!!
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You knew that joining the Navy would be a gamble. The ratio of women to men in this field was beyond staggering, as you and your other female counterparts made up the meek 12% of all Naval pilots, so there were inevitable barriers to overcome. First were the misplaced doubts and beliefs that you wouldn’t be able to do the job. Next were the taunts, teases and unwelcome eyes.
Summary: After a rowdy night of drinks and some beachside conversation, you find yourself growing closer to your new squadron, one member and one night drive at a time.
Content Warning: This is a successor to the first part, please read that first! ||This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision. || tw: death mention, major character death, spoilers for TG: Maverick
Author Note: I am not hopelessly cruel, really, so I am going to be pretty quick with these uploads, so long as I get the last section done that - admittedly - still isn’t written. I love, love, love hearing your feedback so please do not hesitate to comment, reblog, flood my askbox, I wanna know your thoughts!!
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By the time you’re ready to go, most of the bar’s patrons had funneled out, including most of your squadron. Payback still sat on the other end of the bar, talking to a girl you didn’t recognize. You’d spent most of your time catching up with Penny, talking and ordering drink after drink. With abundant laughter rolling through you, the woman sighs looking at her watch. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Shiner, but it’s past 2. Bar’s closed for the night.”
