thought this would be cool to post: my first ever top gun fanart- drawn traditionally in my sketchbook one year ago!

A/N: July has been brutal. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve suddenly found myself crying in the shower or deeply exhausted from a depression I can’t seem to shake or in a spiral of anxiety I don’t know how to talk myself down from. As someone who’s been driven for much of her life, I feel so lost at the moment. I’m surrounded by many wonderful people, so I’ll be okay but being happy again feels a long way off.

Natasha’s first flight after the bird strike.

Natasha removes her mask. The thing that’s supposed to help her breathe feels like it’s suffocating her. Her hands are shaking so hard, she can barely complete her post flight check. It doesn’t matter that it’s taking her longer than it should. If she tries climbing down the ladder, her legs will probably give out.

Her only comfort is that Bob isn’t faring much better. He’d thrown up as soon as their wheels bumped along the landing strip. But at least his legs can hold him enough to get to the ground. Natasha leans her forehead into her hands. How could she have worked so hard and come so far only to blow it at the finish line? If she doesn’t pull herself together, Maverick is going to ground her.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there before footsteps scrape up the ladder. Natasha struggles to calm her breathing. “Just double checking my work,” she lies, voice cracking and betraying her.

“It’s just me, Phoenix,” says Maverick, and her heart sinks so hard and fast that she’s crying before she can get a grip on herself. Not just soft tears but the kind that sends snot blurting from her nose and stains her gloves dark while her shoulders shake and heave.

Maverick leans on the side of her plane, watching her completely fall apart on the eve of one of the most important missions she could fly. She’s out, and that only punches her gut harder.

“I’m not a girl,” Natasha says stupidly through her fingers, Hangman’s taunts loud in her ear, shame burning her cheeks. Her helmet feels too tight, but it’s the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart.”

Maverick snorts in spite of himself. “I’ve been around long enough to know learning to cry would save a lot of people a lot of time. And anyway, you’re doing better than I thought at this point. I was going to call it a win if you even got in your cockpit today.”

That startles her into looking over at him. Maverick’s normal intensity is softened some, the gleam in his eyes almost fatherly in a strange way. He reaches out a hand and touches her shoulder.

It’s better to face the truth head on than put it off. “We’re out, aren’t we?” She hasn’t just let herself down. She’s let Bob down too.

Maverick studies her. “Is that what you want? I’d understand. Everyone would.”

“You’d trust me on a mission? After what happened? After right now?”

A breeze ruffles his hair, revealing a few strands of gray. Up close, the crows feet at the corner of his eyes are deeper than they seem from farther away. The steady, youthful air with which he carries himself fades in the lines of wisdom carved into his face. “The only question that matters is whether you trust yourself.”

She has too much respect for him to lie, no matter how badly she wants to be picked. “I want to,” she admits.

Maverick squeezes her shoulder. “I can work with that, if you can.” He leans in closer even though they’re the only two this high up. “Being a good pilot is not never ending up in a bad spot, okay? It’s not never failing. It’s not not doubting yourself. It’s what you’re able to do when everything goes to shit and trusting you’ll figure out a way to the other side. And the more you see things go to shit, the more you’ll trust yourself to figure it out. I promise.”

Natasha drags her arm across her still running nose as something he said registers. “You didn’t think I’d fly today?”

A smile tugs at his lips. “I didn’t think you’d fly without an order,” he amends.

She sniffs and takes that in. “You’re a hard person to disappoint, sir.”

Now Maverick fully smiles. “And yet, I’ve been told what a disappointment I am many a time.”

“I talked to Rooster about that.”

He gives her shoulder a shake. “Okay, Lieutenant, this conversation is about you, not me. Let’s keep it that way.” Natasha feels a smile touch her own mouth in response. Knowing how hard he’s fighting to keep them alive, how firmly he believes in them steadies her.

“My legs still feel like jelly,” she confesses.

“I’ll walk you down. We’ll take it one step at a time okay?”

“Okay.”

He talks her through lifting herself out of the cockpit and onto the ladder. He guides her every step of the way down, just as he has been the voice in their ear from the first hop. Her legs shake when her feet finally touch the hard tarmac, but she manages to stay upright.

Rooster and Bob are waiting for her, her WSO still pale and a little green, hair flattened from sweat.

“Fuck,” Phoenix complains, both humiliated and grateful to see them.

“You told me you couldn’t fly this mission without me,” Rooster reminds her. “So here I am.”

“And what about you, Bob?” It sounds more accusing than she means for it to be.

He shrugs, tucking in his chin bashfully. “I like flying with you.”

Natasha takes them in, feels their belief in her despite everything they’ve been through. Or perhaps because of it. Maverick squinting at her in the dusk light, Rooster holding himself a little straighter than he has since he learned Maverick would be their instructor, and Bob waiting to see how she’ll lead.

Maverick taps her helmet. “Go get some rest, Phoenix. Come back again tomorrow.” It’s not a question, but she still gives him an answer as Rooster slings his arm over her shoulders and Bob falls into step beside them.

Meet Celeste Elena Seresin-Trace

Natasha startles awake, unsure when she drifted off. The house is more quiet than it’s been since she and Jake brought Celeste home. Her mom and Gabby must be out, leaving the new little family alone.

Jake sits with Celeste cradled in his lap, her head supported tenderly in his large, capable hands. His leave is so short that he’s not wanted to miss a moment of the exhausting cycle of diaper changes and feeding and hours spent staring at the tiny, sleeping being they created, treasuring every shift, scrunch, and wrinkle of her delicate features. She already has Natasha’s darker hair (oh the heartburn!), but her eyes have yet to settle. Jake would have to pry it from her, but she hopes Cici ends up with his green eyes. Spending so much time taking care of the baby also means he hasn’t shaved since the day they went to the hospital, and Natasha is fully appreciating the rare shadow of facial hair on her husband.

He doesn’t seem to notice she’s awake just yet, and Natasha keeps her eyelids lowered to listen to the soft conversation he keeps up with their daughter. “Don’t tell your Mama, Cici, but you might be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. Of course, she’s neck and neck with you because I’m one lucky guy.”

Celeste’s tiny arms jerk in response to his words. It will be several weeks before her smile is more than a muscle reflex, but Jake insists that she smiles the most at him.

They’d had several first names picked out for her, although Jake was adamant from early on that he loved Natasha’s middle name and wanted to pass it on to their daughter. Elena means “light” and that’s what his two girls are in his life. He’s probably figured it out by now, but Natasha can’t resist Jake when his sweet, sentimentality slips past his cocky guard.

Celeste is perhaps a little on the nose for a girl with pilots for parents, but they both liked how pretty it sounded and how the vowels of her full name sailed so smoothly along the tongue. Natasha still chokes up remembering Jake murmuring it to her while he cradled her to his bare chest in the hospital, his hands then still slightly awkward as he adjusted to holding so tiny a person. Having a baby has turned both of them into saps.

“Whoa there, Ci,” he yelps quietly when Celeste jerks. “Strong as Mama already. No one’s going to mess with you, are they? And don’t worry, Daddy won’t let them.”

God help whoever dares mess with their little girl, Natasha thinks. Especially if she has Jake’s wit and penchant for verbal annihilation. They’re going to get a pair of tongue lashings they might never forget. Or recover from. The thought makes her huff a laugh, and both Jake and Cici look over at her at the same time.

Cover blown, Natasha fully opens her eyes. “I am not bailing you out for harassing a four year old at daycare,” she capitulates.

Celeste’s mouth opens and closes now that she knows Natasha’s awake, and Jake reluctantly relinquishes her to be fed. They learned quickly that their daughter will give them a short grace period to notice she’s hungry before she unleashes a full blown, bleating scream for food.

“I would never harass a child,” Jake scoffs. “Just have a firm conversation.” He helps her adjust the pillow to support Celeste while she eats. Natasha has only enough attention to spare to give him a skeptical look as Cici becomes more impatient about being fed. The defensiveness melts from his face, and he brushes her damp hair from her forehead to place a tender kiss there.

“Whoa there, Ci,” he yelps quietly when Celeste jerks. “Strong as Mama already. No one’s going to mess with you, are they? And don’t worry, Daddy won’t let them.”

“I would never harass a child,” Jake scoffs. “Just have a firm conversation.”

my cover girl!

Aww, thank you! I loved the aesthetic of this one! I hope you like it 🧡

Mav’s Memory Wall is my choice for the celebration!

Is it possible to get Phoenix and light purples? If not, I am more that happy for her and blues. I just want to see my girl looking amazing!

Congratulations again!

Here you go! I hope you like it! 💜

Pop the champagne, guys, my bestie is back🥳💗!!!

athena || natasha 'phoenix' trace

"wisdom outweighs any wealth"

goddess of reason, wisdom, intelligence, skill, peace, warfare, battle strategy, and handicrafts

symbols: olive tree, helmet, spear, armor