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starryschoolgirl · 1 year ago

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Just A Man

| A Soldier's Song Installment |

Summary -> As the weeks leading up to Elvis' deployment to Europe begin to dwindle you and Elvis try to help your son understand what it will mean. Meanwhile, inevitable tensions between you and Elvis are pushed to the side as the two of you figure sex is better than facing your issues, especially with such little time left together.

Warnings -> mention of family death, domestic fluff, flirting, mention of war, pre-deployment, Elvis being a young dad & husband, (much needed) sex with 50s Elvis, angsty undertones, smut, kitchen sex, swearing, foot kink, stocking kink, almost footjob(?), breeding kink, oral (f. receiving), unsafe sex

WC -> 5.8k

A/N -> So this is more of a prologue to the actual events of which this au series is based upon, to sort of give a glance into what life was like before Elvis gets deployed to Europe, I hope you enjoy it! In the next installment, we WILL see Elvis in uniform. This is an installation of the A Soldier's Song AU

“That one made my hand hurt Frankie!”

The little boy giggled at his daddy’s shocked face.

That battering of a baseball against a leather mitt is all that kept you company on the back porch of your home. Watching the two boys, your two boys, in the yard tossing the ball back and forth puts a smile on your face, but as you turn your head to the empty chair next to you that smile falls ever so slightly, missing the warmth that often emanated from that chair.

Elvis had been at basic training when she passed and was only able to make it back in time for her funeral, but even then while you were a wreck he remained as strong as he could. He held you in one arm and held your little boy in the other as the service proceeded.

You’d only had two grief-filled days with him before he went back to finish his basic training, you couldn’t even figure out whether or not he’d really come to terms with his mama because it all happened so fast. And now you’d only have a few final weeks with your man, all crisp and in shape from basic training, till he was off to a poor war-stricken country in Europe.

With that in mind you remembered to smile, in the knick of time too as Elvis looked up at you after running to pick up the stray ball that had rolled along the grass toward the porch due to your little boy’s poor aim.

He stared up at you like the school boy he used to be, and said with that tone of voice you’d often heard since he first laid eyes on you, “Hey there Cutie”

And like the school girl you used to be, you’d blush and only offer a small smile as you waved him off, “Go play with your son”

Elvis gave you that look, he wanted to say something he couldn’t say in front of young ears. He got up, ball in one hand while he wore his leather brown mitt on the other, with each step up the wood porch his smile grew, you could feel his curled lips on your cheek as he leaned down to kiss it.

Then quietly he’d murmur in a cooing, baby-talk type tone,

“Daddy wants to play with Mama though”

You rolled your eyes and put a placating hand on his clean-shaven cheek. After leaning forward to press a quick peck to his lips you spoke quietly with that same baby-talk curve to your voice,

“Daddy can play with Mama when Baby goes to bed”

Elvis smiled softly at you and mumbled out a soft and assured, “Alright”, before stepping away to go back down onto the grass, giving Francis, or as Elvis nicknamed him, Frankie, an underhanded toss of the ball.

You turned one last time to the other chair and the empty cushion on it, you couldn’t look at it anymore. Thankfully you were needed elsewhere as you could smell the roast in the oven drift through the window of the kitchen out onto the porch.

After going inside as you tended to the food you could watch Francis and Elvis play about in the yard, it was quite big, but the two of them only remained within a small portion, part of the reason could’ve been because Francis couldn’t yet throw very far.

The sun was setting and the light practically flickered off of Elvis’ hair. Now being in the army he didn’t bother with that black dye, it would just be washed out as soon as he was back at base after all. And it wasn’t like he’d be making movies or releasing songs anytime soon, no not with what he was on his way to do in a few weeks.

You could just barely hear Elvis’ voice as he praised your son, “Frank my boy you might be the Babe Ruth of your generation if ya keep at it”. You couldn’t help but shake your head with a smile, Elvis talking to Francis as if the four-year-old knew who the Babe was and as if he knew what the word “generation” meant.

It was in Elvis’ nature to talk to children in that way though. He always treated them like little adults. You couldn’t recall a time when Elvis didn��t speak to children that way. His mama had made fun of him for it when Francis was two and he could only remark, “Frank is just people, like you and me are just people”

Oh goodness, you thought of her again.

You don’t think a day goes by when you don’t think about her. Elvis’ mama was a godsend, truly. And while he’d never open up about it, you know it’s affecting Elvis immensely. She was so involved in your life ever since you entered Elvis’ and she was always sweet and welcoming.

You could think back to a time not too long ago when after you’d eloped with Elvis and announced the news of your pregnancy at the young age of 18, your parents kicked you to the curb, but she welcomed you with open arms.

At the time Elvis was still driving a truck he hadn’t yet become the “movie star” that he was now. But despite the financial struggles of her Presley flock, Gladys happily welcomed another bird.

It was just a few months ago, before the whole fiasco of Elvis getting drafted and sent off to basic that you’d had a conversation with her in this very kitchen about that.

You told her how appreciative you’d always be toward her for being so welcoming to you, and she told you with an arm around your shoulder, “I’m a mother Hon, it’s only natural. The two of you were babies when ya had that itty bitty boy of yours, I couldn’t ever leave y’all out in the rain, you know that”

You knew no matter what Elvis would have stuck beside you, you knew he’d always be there to hold your hand. After all, you were mothering his child. But it helped so much more that his mother would be on the other side of you, holding your other hand to help you in whatever way you would allow.

Things were slowly returning to normal within the home, her lack of presence isn’t as pronounced, but that’s because she lives through memory now as more time passes, it’s almost like she’s not gone.

You hope that’s how Elvis viewed it. His stone face didn’t leave any slack for a crack or two, and for once it was getting hard to read him. But you’d continue to hope that it isn’t a facade and that he is okay. Yeah, you’d hope with all your might that your man was doing okay.

-----

Dinner was quiet, whenever your voice, or Elvis’ voice, or Francis’ voice didn’t fill the air, love would keep you all company. Of course as always Elvis got on Francis about playing with his food, having grown up poor Elvis was more sensitive to matters of waste such as that.

But if that was the stress high-point of the evening, then you could call it a good evening.

And as you now sat on the edge of the bed, a hand on Francis’ blanket-covered knee while Elvis kneeled on the floor next to the short, small children’s bed, you had a soft smile play on your lips as Elvis talked on the subject of him leaving in a few weeks.

Elvis and you had been explaining night after night to Francis what would soon happen, why his daddy would be going away for a while and what would happen after. After talking about it quite a bit within the first month of knowing about Elvis’ draft you and he decided it was best to be very open on the subject to make it less daunting when Elvis suddenly left home.

And after Gladys’ death you had to explain to Francis that his daddy’s absence would be different from his grandmother’s absence.

“Ya g-gonna fight bad guys Daddy?”

Elvis smiled and brought his hands up in fists, then with a few shadow-box moves which made Francis laugh, Elvis assured,

“You betcha, gonna give the bad guys one of these! And one of these!”

The little boy laughed, his laugh too big for his body as he bent over on the bed and held onto your arm with both his little hands.

After his precious giggles subsided, Francis sat up and asked curiously, a glimmer of what must’ve been a child’s worry in his eyes as he asked with that stutter that his daddy used to have,

“W-what if the bad, bad guys hurt yo-you Dad-Daddy?”

Your smile fell slightly as you and Elvis made eye contact at the suggestion. Of course that is something that you and Elvis had been careful approaching when it came to explaining this sort of thing to Francis.

You couldn’t explain it without truly worrying the boy, you felt tears prickle your eyes at just the thought. Elvis knew of your worries, he knew that quite a few of the girls you were friends with down at the beauty parlor had husband’s overseas, and that a few of them had gotten the dreaded telegram, along with a folded American flag.

He knew all too well your worries as he’d spent many nights being the one to soothe you back to bed. When he’d feign sleep even though he knew you’d spend mornings staring at him, just wanting to look at him as if you would soon lose this view.

Of course if he had died at war it might be different. Having been in a few films and sung a few hit records, he feared that if he died you might find out about his death through the newspapers. You would either find out through that, or as Elvis heard, on rare special occasions they’d send something much more personal, they’d send chaplains and military officers to tell the grieving widow in person.

Elvis hoped if he died he’d be that special occasion, that way you wouldn’t be alone when you heard about his death, the same way you were alone when you saw his mother in her state of death.

“Well,”

He started before getting up, and sitting next to you on the bed. He wrapped an arm around your waist and reached a hand out to rest atop yours which rested on Francis’ knee.

“Listen buddy, that sort of thing might happen, but ya don’t gotta worry. Your daddy’s strong, and he’s gonna get home to you and Mama. He promises.”

Your lip quivered as you tried to smile. Elvis could feel the way your hand tensed under his, he quickly pressed a kiss to your cheek and mumbled quietly for his little family to hear,

“And ya know I’m not a liar, I wouldn’t piss on ya leg and tell ya it’s rainin’ now would I?”

You abruptly turned your head toward Elvis’ crude analogy and hit his shoulder lightly making him laugh as Francis giggled at his daddy using a “nasty” word.

As Elvis laughed he stood up and pulled you with him, leaving enough time for you to kiss Francis goodnight before taking you with just a tug of his arm around your hip.

As you reached for the lamp next to your son’s bed your spoke softly,

“Get a good sleep Frannie”

Once you and Elvis were making your way out of the room he teased you softly with his hand still resting at your hip, “Wish ya would stop callin’ him such a girly name, his name’s Francis”

As soon as you closed the door you laughed softly and pointed out, “So he’s Francis when I call him Frannie but he’s not Francis when you call him Frankie?”

Elvis shrugged and popped out a “yup” as he guided you down the hall. Just before reaching the bedroom you told him you remembered you still had some dishes to do and made a B-line to the staircase to head toward the kitchen.

After getting down there and getting the dishes loaded you found yourself standing in front of the sink, staring down at the soapy dishwater with not a thought in mind.

It was Elvis’ voice that pulled you from your trance as he spoke, “Baby?”

You jumped slightly and turned around to see Elvis throwing you a confused half-smile, his red shirt from earlier was off and he was left in just black trousers and his wedding ring. There was a dampened towel on his shoulders, the tips of his hair were slightly wet, likely from having just washed his face.

You sighed softly with a smile at the sight, “I’ll be up in a minute Handsome, just getting some things done”.

Elvis’ neck stretched slightly as he saw the dishes were washed and now laid on the drying rack, he then turned toward the stove to see that the leftovers were put away. You didn’t have anything to do.

He took a few steps forward, till he could comfortably rest his hands at your hips.

“Looks to me like everythin’s been done, why don’tcha head upstairs with me?”

You took a moment to look around and realized he was right, quick on your feet you slid away from his hands and walked over to the oven and opened it, you gestured a hand toward the inside,

“I haven’t cleaned the oven out yet”

Elvis’ eyebrows furrowed as he shook head and mumbled with a hand on his hip,

“Honey, ya never clean the oven out till the 1st of the month, I mean unless things have changed that much since I’ve been at basic…”

You sighed softly. As you gently closed the oven door Elvis walked over to you with a small frown, his hands finding their place at your hips once again as he asked,

“What’s goin’ on Genevieve?”

You bit your lower lip softly, whenever Elvis called you by your name you knew he was serious, there was no wiggling your way out of it, especially now that he had you pressed back against a kitchen counter, his hands gripping your hips with resolution and a look in his eyes that told you he wasn’t letting you go without a fight.

With a shake of your head you looked away from Elvis, suddenly deeming the drying rack a few feet away to be a better view than your half-naked husband. Elvis’ head followed your gaze and suddenly it was him you were looking at again.

“I just, I wish you would stop doing that…”

Elvis looked confused as he ran a hand through his uncombed hair. He really looked different from a few months ago, his jaw was sharp and his cheeks sort of caved in, but not in the way a waif’s would. His hair was a crisp, fall-ish brown, and his body was cut in a way that felt a little foreign.

While he was naturally slim and tall, he was usually still soft and smooth around the edges. You’d realized his first night back from basic that his body was more sharp and angular, and you worried they weren’t feeding him properly. But as he’d been home a week or two now, his body remained sharp and cut, and now your worries were on your own lacking areas, you knew your food couldn’t replace his mama’s but you’d swear if his mama were here, he’d be back to his soft and squishy self.

“Stop doin’ what Hon?”

As your eyes lingered over his body more you’d completely forgotten what you’d first been talking about as you changed the subject by asking, “Are you still hungry?”

Elvis laughed softly and titled his head to the side, “What are ya talkin’ about?”

Your lower lip quivered in worry and concern, it seems all the dulled emotions you’d been feeling lately came together to overpower your own emotional maturity as your lip wobbled pathetically. As Elvis saw the sight his smile fell and his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he bent down slightly to look you head on. “Oh, Baby, now,” He cupped your cheeks with his hands to keep you from turning away from him.

There was a soft incredulous laugh that left his lips, “Why are ya cryin?”

As Elvis pulled you close to him, you could feel his body shake with each laugh that left his lips, you knew what he was thinking, it was what he always thought (and sometimes said) whenever you started crying, it was-

“You women and your emotions…”

And just as you would everytime, you’d hit his chest with all your might (which would only evoke another laugh at your pitiful effort) and mumble into his chest wetly, “Stop laughing at me Elvis Aaron Presley.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t laugh anymore Mama, now what was it you wish I would stop doin?”

Your arms around his waist tightened slightly as you thought back to the original topic of discussion. Elvis gave you a moment as he rubbed his chin along the top of your head, ruffling your hair in doing so, but you didn’t care enough to mind.

“I just wish you would stop pretending you’re this indestructible force Elvis.”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke,

“Well, I gotta make sure my son knows there ain’t a man better than his Daddy, ya know that Hon”

With a soft sigh you pulled back enough to look Elvis in the eye while your arms remained around his waist.

“I’m talking about with me, Elvis. You do that same thing with me that you do with Francis. You talk to me like I’m a child- Like, like I don’t know what you’re going into, like I haven’t been reading the papers”

Elvis’ smile flatlined as he listened to your words. You continued on.

“I’m your wife Elvis, I know that you’re not some indestructible being.”

As Elvis' eyes lingered away from yours, you placed a hand on his cheek to regain his attention as you could tell he was searching for ways to change the conversation.

“You’re just a man Elvis”

There’s his way out. Elvis bit his lower lip before breaking into a smile as he stared down at you. His hands that were wrapped around your waist fell down to each globe of your ass, giving you a soft squeeze through the fabric of your dress. The abruptness of the action caught your attention as your eyebrow lifted in suspicion and confusion at what he was doing.

Here you were pouring your heart out and he-

“Well, I can admit I am just a man, and a man’s got needs ya know?”

He had a boyish smile on his lips as he said the last part quietly, as if he were a child trying to tempt his mother into letting him get his favorite piece of candy. You knew how this would go, it would go as it always did. You and Elvis would avoid this topic and go on to avoid a few other topics, then in a few weeks or a month you and him would get into a huge argument of all the topics combined just to kiss and make up.

It’s happened often within your relationship, hell, you and him hadn’t fought the entirety of your pregnancy with Francis and on the day your water broke, all hell broke with it as you and Elvis got into a huge argument. You almost gave birth in the house because you refused to have him be the one to drive you to the hospital.

But that would be fine for now, especially when he smiled down at you the way he was now.

Your previous pure look of concern had washed away with a defeated smile as his hands continued to knead the flesh of your ass like dough and his smile only dug into his cheeks further, almost bringing back that full look of them.

With a fond tinge to it, you sighed out,

“You really are just a man”

He brought his nose down to nuzzle against your cheek before pressing his lips against the soft skin, murmuring, “Your man”

“Mhm, my man”

You began to giggle at the ticklish sensation of his lips dragging from your cheek down along the sensitive skin of your neck. You tried tucking your chin into your neck as you continued to let you squealed laughs.

Elvis let out a soft playful growl as he spoke into the skin,

“Flutterin’ around like a bird”

To stop your incessant wiggling Elvis tightened his arms around your waist, his nose changed locations from the crook of your neck to the dip of your collarbone till it landed in the deep neckline of your dress, snug between your breasts as he nuzzled himself into the skin, trying to get a whiff of you in your purest form.

The smell of you at the end of the day, the light scent of your perfume that somehow lingered late in the day mixed with whatever sweat had tried to grace your body, it was a smell he couldn’t get enough of.

His lips began to press gentle little kisses at the inside of both your breasts as he tugged at the neckline a bit more, trying to give himself more ground to cover with his lips. You laughed softly and buried your hands in his brown locks as you pressed numerous kisses atop his head.

You could hear him mumble where his head was buried between your breasts,

“Mm kiss me Baby…”

You laughed softly and between pecks on his forehead said, “That’s what I’m doin’”

He finally came up, his eyes lidded slightly as he murmured, “I mean really kiss me”, before kissing you with the same lips he just worshiped the skin of your tits with.

You hummed into the kiss with delighted surprise at the hungry tenderness of it all as Elvis’ body backed you completely against the kitchen counter. He felt around blindly for the counter behind you as he refused to break the kiss and then with two gentle pats to the back of your thighs you jumped up just slightly for him to pick you up by the thighs and push you onto the counter.

Elvis’ hands quickly worked the fabric of your dress, tugging it up till it pooled around your waist and as he pulled away from the kiss to look down between the two of you he was left with the sight of your legs, almost completely bare except for your seamed stockings that ended at your thighs and were held up by the garters connected to your panties.

His hands glided along the thin fabric of your stockings along your calves and thighs, he loved how they felt. You couldn’t help your smile as he admired you. When he stepped back he could pull one of your legs up nice and high so that he could see the seams on the back of your stockings that ran up your legs, giving the illusion that you had much longer legs than you really did.

All his focus was on that leg that he had stretched above your head, pointed to the heavens as he stared with admiration. You, his own point of interest, had betrayed him as your other lonely leg that dangled from the counter stretched forward to dig lightly at the bulge beginning to form in Elvis’ black trousers. Elvis’ brows creased and his eyes closed as his mouth opened to let out a low, heavy breath.

“Oh, Mama…”

Elvis’ grip that held your foot high had loosened at the undoing of his usually calm and collective nature within the act. “Mhm?” You took the opportunity and brought your other foot down to join in on the pushes and presses of your feet into the growing bulge.

He only repeated with a breathy, more defeated voice,

“Oh… Mama…”

His head fell back slightly and his legs looked to be going a little slack, knees bending in the slightest as his hips pushed into the pressure of your feet.

It was only when you attempted to dig your foot’s heel into Elvis’ groin did he make a move, spreading your legs apart and pushing his way between them with an eagerness. His hands were quick as he unclipped your garters, followed by the rough yanking of your stockings off your legs. You were thankful you had stabilized yourself onto the counter with your hands otherwise he might’ve yanked you off it right along with your stockings.

You figured you’d help him as you lifted your ass up and began to shimmy your panties off, having to bite your lip to keep back from whining at the cold slap of the counter against your thighs and warmed heat. As Elvis turned to look at you, his mouth was left slightly agape, he could never get used to the image of his wife being all pliant and pretty for him.

The men he used to work with as a young truck driver told him to never get married to a girl he liked, because when women became wives they lost their appeal, they became prudent and too good for casual sex with their husband. Oh how wrong those men were.

“Spread ‘em f’me Hon”

You obeyed as you watched Elvis kneel down, he had enough height on him to where even kneeling down he could easily be face to face with your bare cunt as you sat on the edge of the counter.

From below he made eye contact with you again and murmured,

“Spread those as well Baby”

You let out a breath at his words, feeling a heat spread from your chest up your neck from the embarrassment of where he was referring, but you’d listen. Your hand hesitantly danced down your body before landing at your cunt, and with a soft, wet sound, your pointer and index finger spread the lips of your pussy apart, giving way for Elvis to see the white discharge that was just edging out of your entrance, you had practically sprung a leak down there.

“You’re so pretty Baby…”

He looked up at you to make sure you knew it before steadying himself by gripping the sides of your thighs before pressing his head further between your legs. His aquiline nose ran along your core before anything else, but his tongue and lips were quick to follow as he licked a stripe up the center.

You let out a soft breathy moan at the feeling and tilted your head back to stare at the ceiling, the blank ceiling, boring enough for you to be able to focus entirely on the sensations Elvis was filling your body with.

As his tongue poked and prodded at your entrance you let out a cacophony of back-to-back breaths. As he moved his lips lower, his tongue now scraping along that gap of skin between both your holes, his nose was enveloped entirely by your entrance, and you could feel it inside of you.

Then his fingers on one hand reached toward that little nub of nerves that rested atop your pussy like a pretty bow, and like an expert he could easily undo that bow with the twists and turns of his index and middle finger.

That is what made you squirm and squeak, hushing out a high-pitched,

“Elvis..!”

His answer was a hungry hum which only pushed you even further as the low baritone of his hum reverberated in your pussy. “E-Elvis..!”

Your hands burrowed greedily into his hair as you contradicted yourself, while you made it seem like you wanted him off you, you only pushed his nose further and further into your entrance, you might suffocate him at this point. It was as if his life was in the hands of whether or not he could make you come.

You attempted to drive your hips further into his mouth as he pulled you closer with that hand still gripping your thigh.

As his fingers strummed your clit like the strings to a guitar your breathing got uneven as you felt the incoming of those waves of pleasure that only your very own husband could pull from you.

He groaned loudly into your heat as your grip on his hair became painful to the man bearing it, but he’d continue on till he got you to your release.

“Oh fuck Elvis..! I’m, I’m…”

Your hands entangled in his hair began to drive his head completely home as you let out a guttural moan, the pleased pitch cutting off as you’d reached the peak of your pleasure.

Your entire body felt limp, not even having enough strength in your hands to continue holding onto his hair. Elvis’ head remained tucked away long enough for your dress to fall over onto his head and hide him away as he finally pulled away for air.

You watched with tired eyes as his hands came up to pull the fabric off his head, he had the biggest lazy smile gracing his lips as he looked up at you, and for a moment you had a hard time deciphering whether or not the dampness on his face came from his sweat or your own pleasure, you settled on it being a mix.

“I make ya feel good Honey? Played with Mama just right, hm?”

He slowly stood up and brought the fabric of the dress up with him.

“You always do Elvis,”

He hummed with a smile and brought the wrung up fabric to your mouth with one hand and tugged your chin down with the other, leaving room for him to set the fabric between your lips for you to bite down on.

“Good, now, you’re gonna help Daddy feel good too now right? Gonna sit still f’me right?”

You hummed, “Mhm”, feeling eager to please the man after the trip he just sent you on. Elvis smiled down at you as he watched you hold the fabric between your teeth.

The fumbling of Elvis’ hands undoing his trousers was momentary as he’d become a bit of an expert at undoing his pants in the years you two have been married. You watched with blown out eyes as his dick shot up against his pubes and stomach as it was freed from the confines of Elvis’ pants and underwear.

Your legs were already spread and ready, your hole was already warmed up and loosened, you were his for the taking.

As Elvis took a step forward he tugged you just slightly closer to him before lining his uncut cock along your hole. Then he pushed in. His eyebrows creased from the pain of needing to be patient at this part, trying to find a good balance of needing to be watchful of your expression while wanting to watch as his foreskin begins to prematurely slide back before he’s even completely inside of your warm pussy.

“It’s goin’ in smooth Honey? N-no burn or anythin’ right Baby? I can keep goin’?”

You hummed out a quick, “Mhm”, with an eager nod of your head, and you could see the relief spread along his face at not needing to wait, because to be quite truthful he wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

Elvis kept a hand on his base as he guided the rest in and when he was fully in, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, practically pulling you off the counter as he wanted to be as close to you as possible while he pressed kisses along your neck.

“Fuck Baby, feel so good,” He groaned softly as he pulled out slightly just to shove his way back in, eliciting a used squeak from you as he did so. “Think that I still haven’t broken ya in properly after bein’ at basic f’so long huh?”

You could only moan softly at his words as you kept the fabric of your dress clenched between your teeth. As he repeated a similar motion he mumbled into the skin of your neck,

“It’s alright Honey, we’ll make more room in there, make more room for a little one or two…”

You wiggled slightly only for his body to press impossibly closer as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Just need ya to sit” he pulled out just to harshly press back in, evoking a whimper from you, “still.”

Elvis’ thrusts became fuller and more drawn out with every second that passed and every moan that left your lips. He was a chatty lover, and while he liked to believe he was talking you through it all, it was really himself he was talking through the motions of sex. He had a strange anxiety when it came to sex that had only shown itself since his takeoff in the entertainment business.

“Gonna fill ya so full of me, gonna leave a piece of myself here to watch over ya Honey,”

Your noises continued to be muffled by the fabric that was becoming soaked in saliva from being kept in your mouth for so long.

The build-up of precum that had been filling your insides made for a wonderful lubricant, even better than your body’s natural one. Elvis’ hips continued to thrust roughly into you. As the speed doubled, even tripled, Elvis’ breaths and voice got raspy.

You were certain he’d bruised your cervix by now, but the desperate rasp of his voice left you as gooey as your insides were.

“Shit, this is it..!”

Elvis buried face into your neck and you felt the heat of his breath sprawl across your skin as he groaned throatily. The animalistic, rhythmic pace of his hips dying down to slow downward grinds. He slurred out as he came down from that peak of pleasure,

“So good… So fucking good…”

Finally as his body came to a rest you spit out the fabric and inhaled as much air as possible through your mouth.

As Elvis geared himself to pull out, your arms wrapped around his neck abruptly as you held him close, mumbling a soft, “Don’t.” as you did so.

Elvis’ body felt stiff for a moment as he asked with hushed concern,

“W-why? Did I hurt ya Hon? You know you’re supposed to tell-”

You stopped his sentence short with a quiet,

“No, you didn’t hurt me. Just, wanna be with you a little longer. You don’t mind do ya?”

Elvis let out a breath of relief to hear that. He’d never want to hurt you. So in that moment of silence he held you close and buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting his nose linger on that pulse point that he watched you apply perfume on every morning for the past 4 years.

And you carded your fingers through his hair, kissing the skin of his head as a form of apology for how rough you were with it earlier.

His voice was like honey, sweet and thick as he assured,

“Of course not. I wanna be with you all the time, otherwise I wouldn't have married ya”

You smiled and remarked into his hair,

"Smartass..."

To which he fondly mumbled,

"Cutie"

This was more a passion piece, just because I really wanted to write something involving those pictures, seriously he's such a dad.

The masterlist will be posted and linked as soon as I get up from my nap! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!!

Taglist Lovelies: @suraemoon, @drtyelvisfantasy, @mydarlingelvis, @astral-eyed-cat, @lialocklear, @obsessedvibee, @sexystarfish, @everythingelvispresley, @thebardotreincarnate, @prettyprissyblvd

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polakina · 11 months ago

Text

how they show you they love you

call of duty headcanons #7

hc masterlist // masterlist

finished shadow and bone today...for the fourth time of watching it...i still miss it :(

rating: explicit

quality time and physical touch

likes to be near you all the time

preferably with a hand on you, even a tamed one

hand resting on your thigh in the car, palm on your lower back walking through town, stroking your shin while your legs rest over his lap on the sofa when you're watching a movie

always feels calmer when he's near you

never likes to do things alone. even simple things like cooking or tidying the house

finds much more enjoyment in doing it with you

his favourite thing to do is to cook with you

likes to be the taster for new concoctions you've created

leaves you in charge of the music, often using the spare time between cooking to dance in the kitchen with you

if you go out on an idle shopping trip, or even just to pick up a package, he's often following you out of the door to join you

even if you say you'll only be five minutes, he's still grabbing his jacket

brings his work into the living room, his laptop, his paperwork, everything

will sit beside you while you read or work and keep you company

is a domestic partner at heart

doesn't feel like physical touch has to always be of the sexual nature

his favourite way to wind down is to have you led on his chest, while his fingers drift through your hair

its calming, for the both of you

often times, it sends you to sleep in minutes, but it calms him, makes him forget about the stress he'd endured during the day

acts of service

he never asks if you need help, not really, but if he notices you struggling with something, he's there in a second to help you

if you mention you're running low on something, it somehow appears the next day

he's very intuitive. somehow, you don't know how and you don't plan on asking, but he's figured out your cycle

every month, a day or two before your period starts, the bathroom is restocked with sanitary products, the kitchen is stocked with your favourite snacks, and the medicine cabinet is loaded with everything to ease your monthly pain

he always woke before you, knowing you hated early mornings, but he knew exactly when you'd wake up in a morning

it was always the same time

so there was always a coffee waiting on the bedside table, still hot when you opened your eyes

and he knew you hated doing the laundry, but you loved taking it out of the dryer, so he'd make sure there was half an hour after you woke up before the dryer finished its cycle

he knew your favourite smell was freshly dried linen

liked to help, with anything

felt sort of prideful if you came to him with something

even just a knot in the laces of your shoes, he looked indifferent as he silently took your shoe and meticulously undid the knot, but he had a little glow in his chest when he handed it back to you

gift giving

goes out of his way to bring you something back after every deployment

whether its something he's found at a local market that he'd knew you'd like, or even something he'd picked up walking back to your shared home

your house was filled with flowers, sea shells, funny shaped rocks. all of that he'd pocketed while walking to get groceries or found while mowing the lawn

you always told him he never had to get you anything, but as always he never listened

it was his way of showing his love, so you stopped questioning it after a while

if he had to leave suddenly, without time to say goodbye, you'd find a note on the bedside table held down by a gift

sometimes it was jewellery, sometimes it was a flower, it was always different

his favourite thing to do with you was to take you to the markets

they came through your town every few months, and you could smell the food vendors from your bedroom window

soap kept an eye on whatever tickled your fancy, he'd learned to figure out which things caught your eye over others

your gaze always flickered back to certain objects, your fingers running over the things you liked most

he waited until you'd moved on to another stall before paying the seller and pocketing the gift for later

words of affirmation

doesn't shut up about you, ever

you've walked downstairs in your pajamas and wet hair from the shower and he's still said that you looked adorable

always compliments you, on anything you do

in the early stages of your relationship, you thought what he was saying was an act

something to get you in his car and back to his place

it wasn't that simple, but there was always that little part of your brain nagging that he was putting on a facade when he complimented you

after a while, a long while, you realised that that was just who he was

he never had a bad word to say about you

his endearing ways of talking never failed to make you blush, and he loved that

seeing your cheeks burn a deep red as you turned your face away from him

even on your worst days, if you were full of a cold, or overworked from your job, or muddy from walking through the fields with the dog, the compliments and loving phrases kept coming

"how's my pretty little cough-pot?" was always his favourite

he'd take care of you while you were ill, often bringing you sweet tea or pills to help satiate the fever. but that never meant there wasn't a smile on your face

"had anyone ever told you how goddamn perfect you are?"

you'd roll your eyes still, even after years of it, and smile to yourself

"shut up, gaz. i haven't showered in three days, work is kicking my arse, i'm not in the mood for your little lies."

he'd always act offended, hand over his heart

"i would never lie to you, love. you look so cute, all focused and scowly in front of your computer."

your scowl was one of his favourite looks of yours

it made your face scrunch and contort, the bridge of your nose crumpling on itself and your eyes squinting

yet to him, you still looked beautiful

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bullet-prooflove · 5 months ago

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Ok I’m back with more letters for Jake and Jenn- could you please do a,c,n,o,p

a = aftercare; what does aftercare look like with them?

In the past with other people Jake did virtually no aftercare, he would get up straight after, dress and leave, he wanted no mixed messages, he was not looking for a relationship, just a way to blow off steam. He was always very upfront about it.

With you he’s all about taking care of you, particularly if it’s been an intense edging session. He runs his hands all over your body, cuddles you close, whispers sweet nothings in your ear. If he’s getting up to refuel, he’s bringing you water, snacks, anything you desire.

c = camera; who likes to send nudes to the others? have they ever made a sex tape - would they ever?

Jenna is very skittish about taking pictures due to a bad experience in the past. When dating another service member on a different base she discovered he had been showing the pictures/videos she had sent him whilst on deployment to other members on his squad. It was humiliating for her esp in her position as an MP. In the end she was transferred to the San Diego base because of it. He is devastated when Jenna explains what happened to her. Jake will murder this man if he ever ends up in the same airspace as him.

n = no; what’s off the table for each of them?

Pictures/videos are a hard no for Jenna.

Gags are a hard no for him, he can’t stand having his voice taken away from him. As a child, he had no agency and it feeds into that mindset.

Handcuffs or restraints are one wrist only because Jake needs to touch you, he needs to feel intimacy.

Jake will not share you. He was a lone wolf before he met you but now he’s found his mate he is very territorial and protective. Another person sniffing around you gets his hackles up completely.

o = overnight; what happens when they’re finished? do they like to turn in for the night, or do they stay up?

Jake always stays the night if he can. You usually fall asleep after sex because he wears you out, it’s during this time Jake will slip out of the sheets, take the dog out to ‘take care of business’, make sure all the windows and doors are locked and then slip back into the sheets. Your safety is a paramount to him.

p = place; where do they like to have sex? what’s a building/area that’s off limits for one reason or another?

Usually your house because, it’s private, comfortable, homely. It taps into something for Jake, it gives him a sense of stability and security he’s lacked his entire life. Jake has never had a home before, being in yours makes him feel happy and grounded, and he likes to take his time. There isn’t a space in your building that hasn’t been desecrated.

The base is completely off limits for the two of you because of your professional reputation. It took a big hit when the photographs came out on the previous base, Jake will not do anything to compromise you.

The two of you have fucked in his truck, the bathroom of the Flight Deck, the beach and a special camp spot Jake has flown you up to a few times.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #top gun hangman #hangman x you #hangman

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scarlet-empresss · 11 months ago

Text

Simon Riley x reader relationship headcanons Sooo after nearly seven years of being a mostly inactive member of the fandom, writing countless fics that nobody ever got to see - I can say I’ve developed a fairly clear picture of how I envision some of these characters. Therefore, here are some of the things I think would characterize Simon as a partner (and a few of just him as a person). English is not my first language so please bear with me :)

Friends first. I feel like he's not one to rush into a serious relationship without having strong foundations laid out first. You're a trustworthy, longtime teammate he's been working with for years, who has seen his darkest side and inner demons resurface, and still be accepting of him as a person? Or perhaps you're a civilian working at the coffee shop he frequents; the same civilian who spilled his usual at him one time, leading to an unexpected, but most certainly intruguing friendship? Let's fucking roll with either.

Following the first point—he's not a 'love at first glance' type of guy. He needs a connection, a spark; that spark that comes from knowledge and insight, both gained through meaningful interactions and a genuine bond. This is what Simon seeks. (Bonus points if you're a medic/nurse, because, you know, I fucking love medic x soldier trope)

Now let's get to the love language—definitely acts of service. You're tired after a long day at work? Boom, you've got a nice and hot bath waiting for you, together with your favorite snacks and a glass of wine/book to read (could be both). Running low on essentials, be it your favorite type of coffee, a preferred perfume, tampons, the likes? Well, expect it to be restocked as soon as possible. He'll change the oil in your car, scrape the frost from the windows, anything you as much as mention. If you're sick, he'll do whatever makes you feel better, whether that's a warm compress or something as simple as a bowl of soup and a couple of ice packs. He wants to take care of you. He might not be an expert at expressin his feelings through words, but he'll damn sure cook you a three-course meal and a dessert to show you how much he appreciates you.

That being said, he's an exceptional cook. He doesn't have many opportunities to experiment in the kitchen during deployments or safe houses, but you can be sure that Simon is behind the pots and pans preparing mouthwatering meals whenever he's back home. It's relaxing, and he simply enjoys spending time cooking for you and himself.

Not into excessive PDA - hand holding is okay, but when you two are in a crowd (which he hates), there's a hand on the small of your back or lingering on the back of your neck. Behind closed doors, he's more openly affectionate. Whether you're simply making a sandwich in the kitchen or he breezes past you, he's likely to stand behind you and simply rest his chin on the top of your head, rough hands on your hips, or when you two are sitting on the couch, his arm is either around you or resting on your thigh.

Non sexual intimacy is a big yes; head scratches, hand holding, shoulder rubs, baths together, or anything of the sort. But there's one thing that melts him completely and that's when you kiss his eyelids. If you're his teammate and you're in a relationship, he will appreciate you helping him out of his gear, washing the dirt and grime off his hands or helping him apply the camouflage paint on his face.

He may call you "love" or "sweetheart," but he attempts to restrict these terms of endearment primarily behind closed doors. He's not exactly fond of overtly cutesy pet names either, so he appreciates the occasional "Love" or "Si," but he draws the line at anything more ostentatiously affectionate. "Don't ya ever call me pookie again, got it, sweetheart?"

Wanna wake up before that man? Yeah, good luck with that. He's a proper, bona fide early riser, an early bird, prepared for the day well before the rays reach the horizon. It's like clockwork, a routine that's been ingrained into his circadian rhythm, something that governs his inner system. If he's not out on a morning jog, he'll lie on his side of the bed, staring at you, silently admiring. Oh, and he'll know if you wake up and pretend to be still asleep.

Simon values the power of silence. Quiet as he may be at certain times, this man is not indifferent; he's an observer. He considers observation as a means of learning and appreciates the sheer volume of knowledge that can be gleaned from the study of behaviors, facial expressions, and other body language cues. Furthermore, a comfortable silence may be the strongest indicator of the powerful connection between two people. That's how he knew there was truly something special between you and him.

HOWEVER. The previous point doesn't right away mean that he despises talking. Sure, he's not one for an idle chit-chat, but I feel like it’s a very frequent idea that he’s the brooding and sullen type who prefers grunting over speaking, kinda like Daryl Dixon (that's a huge compliment to Simon). I’d say, Simon is somewhere in between—more of a ‘I speak only when I want to/have something really meaningful to say’. If he's got something on his mind, he'll let you know. And, surprisingly, he has a way with words like the smoothest motherfucker ever.

Not surprisingly, he's a bit of a softie when it comes to animals, especially dogs. Not one to baby-talk when he sees a dog, he merely offers gentle pats on its head or side (if he's more familiar with the dog, I see him petting it like dads do lol). He’s also very careful about the animals and makes sure not to touch one without asking the owner first. As for service dogs, he's especially careful, keeping a safe distance and showing due respect for their role.

You know you're gonna have a K9 at your home when you get with this man.

He's not a fan of surprises or gifts, because he wasn't raised in a family full of hugs and "I love you's" or selfless acts of affection. He struggles to convey his gratitude in the conventional manner, so it's often expressed, albeit indirectly, through acts of service. No matter what it is that you've gifted him, he's grateful for the thought and consideration all the same.

But you better believe he will surprise you in turn. He goes out of his way to procure anything and everything you so much as mention wanting, be it a trivial trinket or something more significant. He's always listening, always paying attention.

Not very into verbal compliments, but his eyes speak an entire novel about how he feels about you. Gentle glances, lingering stares, and silent admiration. He might not be overtly forthcoming with his praise, but one look is worth more than a thousand words.

Big spoon. He's a tad bit paranoid about having his back vulnerable—much like a cat and its exposed belly. It has nothing to do with trust—as he does trust you. It's merely a product of his inner paranoia, though there's a touch of protectiveness in there, too. Beacuse he'd much rather have you enveloped in his arms, ensuring him the sensation of protecting you with his whole body. Perhaps with time he would let you spoon him, but I wouldn't count on it early on in the relationship.

He's territorial, not in a jealous, envious, or controlling sense but rather in a protective and defensive manner. He doesn't like men or women making advances on you, especially unsolicited physical contact or overt flirting. While he won't try to be overbearing or overly assertive, he will make it abundantly clear that such behavior is uncalled for and unacceptable.

civilian!reader - get ready for some self-defense lessons. He'll ensure that you know basic moves that can give you the time to escape a dangerous situation. Simon is well-versed in the brutality of the world, and he won't sugarcoat anything. If you're in danger, you run; if you feel something's wrong, you run. He can't always be there to protect you. So he's drilled this mantra into your brain: no matter how strong, tough, skilled you think you are, you simply can't trust that your enemy won't wield a knife or gun.

But one of the very first things he's given you even before you two became a couple was a can of pepper spray.

He's a direct, straight to the point man, which is why he has no time for beating around the bush. There's no awkward tip-toeing with hints that may go unexplored, no subtle suggestions that may fall flat—he's all in. Whether it's on a mission, in bed, or an argument, Simon lays it all on the line because you're worth it. He will commit to you wholeheartedly, leaving nothing on the table, giving you everything he has to offer because you deserve nothing less.

You fell first, but he fell harder—this man adores you. Although he's not mushy, he won't shower you with affection and cute nicknames all the time, he loves you. And when Simon Riley loves someone, you can be damn sure he means it. His loyalty knows no limits and once he's attached to you, he'll never let go. He'll go through and beyond any lengths to make sure you're happy and safe.

Though he might not openly admit it, he likes it when you take the initiative, whether it's in bed, in your relationship, or just life in general. He values your opinions and respects and acknowledges your boundaries, and makes sure to let his own boundaries and needs be known as well. So, step up and make yourself heard, cause he will listen.

He values honesty highly and has a razor-sharp bullshit detector. Can smell bullshit from miles away, actually. Therefore, never, ever lie to him. Because he will uncover the truth, one way or another. Lies are the one thing that can shatter his trust beyond repair, making it a cardinal sin in his eyes. So, don't shy away from telling him the truth—no matter how difficult or inconvenient or painful it may be.

Now it gets a bit complicated here, because while he expects honesty from his s/o, Simon himself holds back some things. These are largely related to his past or the missions he has been on, the things he has seen. He doesn't want to lie to you, but he does it to protect himself and you. You just have to accept the fact that there are certain things he won't ever tell you.

Is capable of being absolutely terrifying without even trying, let alone when he wants to be. His height, muscles, and scars are a force to be reckoned with. So you don't have to be worried about going on a walk with him in the middle of the night or wearing something a bit more revealing, cause he will beat the living shit out of anyone who dares to touch you.

Absolutely no one can defeat him in arm wrestling or even come close to his grip strength.

Very awkward around babies, and I mean extremely awkward. Like Jane Smith holding a baby in Mr&Mrs Smith. He doesn't know a flying shit about caring for children, especially since he didn't have a positive parental influence growing up or any good role models. The subject of starting a family is still a bit sore; though he would likely grow more open to discussing it as time goes on. Still, a major aspect of his psyche seems terrified of becoming like his father.

Would die a thousand deaths for you.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #cod ghost #simon riley headcanons #ghost headcanons #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfiction

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wfanfic56 · 6 months ago

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Atta girl! | Maid Reader x Price

A/N: I haven't wrote in a while, so I needed time and inspiration to finish these drafts. I hope you'll enjoy

He came back after a long deployment, his back was in pain, his shoulders were sore. He looked around his house, it was clean - crystal clean how he would like to say. That was only a work of his maid - Y/N.

She was always there, looking after him when he comes from distant lands, the only one who never left his side, even when his family, friends and girlfriends have left him. She was there, looking out for him, like a hawk. He appreciated that, he always did, but there was always that one thing that he hated about her. She was always professional, even though he wanted her to be his friend.

While he was looking around, he saw her coming downstairs, a slight smile on her face. "Good evening, Mr. Price. I hope you had a safe journey back home."

-"Could have been better." he said in his rough voice. "Please be kind and take these bags to my bedroom."

After she had done what he asked of her, she served him a dinner that she made just a half of hour ago. While Price was eating his meal, Y/N prepared the bath tub for him. She prepared his bathrobe and lit the candles, just how he wants it.

"Y/N! Where are my bags, darling? I got something for you."

-"In the bedroom just as you said."

-"There's nothing here! Did you left the windows open?"

"Windows?" Just as she said that, her vision was gone. She starts waking up, she doesn't know how long she was out. Her head was bleeding and she tried to stand up, but she couldn't.

"John?" She calls for him, slowly crawling towards the living room. "John-"

He was there, laying down on the floor. His hands were tied, face was bruised. She knows him, he wouldn't go without a fight. She crawls to him and checks his pulse.

"C'mon John... Wake up. Captain, wake up!" He mumbles...She has to try harder.

"ON YOUR FEET SOLDIER!" She shook him when she heard footsteps in the house. They are still here. She grabs one of his hidden guns that was under a pillow and she checks the ammo and is the gun locked or not. Y/N looks down at John, he is still unconscious, so she knows she has to do this alone.

Just as John taught her, she "cleans" the house and shoots at the burglars. Both of them are wounded under the waist - a clean sign for the police and judge that it was a self-defence, and tied up.

"Y/N?" John groans. "D-darling?!"

-"I'm here!" He walks into the hallway and sees her calling 999 (Emergency service for Liverpool). He takes the gun and wipes her fingerprints from it and puts his own.

"You don't have a license for it... I'll take responsibility." He looks at the burglars then at her. She was shaking, so John wrapped his arms around her.

"You did well... I'm proud of you, luv. When this ends, you and I will go on a trip. Just you and me, yeah?"

-"Yeah..." she hugs him. "Atta girl." he holds her tightly, while a ring for her lays in his pocket.

#call of duty #cod #modern warfare #captain john price #john price #call of duty fandom #cod mw #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mwiii #call of duty modern warfare #captain johnathan price #Jonathan Michael Price #captain john price x reader #captain price #call of duty fanfic #cod fandom

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inmyloveworld · 1 year ago

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open arms (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x kazansky!reader)

for @roosterforme's 80's "Rocktober" Playlist Fic Challenge!

word count: ~2.6k

warnings: top gun: maverick spoilers, mention of death/funeral, general anxiety

song inspiration: open arms by journey

a/n: thank you so much to emily for this challenge! i truly have not felt so inspired to write in such a long time so this challenge was perfect for me. (my writing’s still a bit rusty, don’t get me wrong, but practice makes perfect eh?) all my love to you always, my favorite FAVORITE tg creator <3

lying beside you, here in the dark, feeling your heart beat with mine.

It was no longer a rarity that you ended up here, nestled beneath gently worn sheets against Bradley's side. Your shared breaths tangled in the air before finding a synchronized rhythm. His steady pulse thrummed against your ear as his hand traced lazily against your side. Silence had never felt so comfortable. And yet, each night you spent in each other's embrace, your mind wrestled with what this all meant.

You couldn't pop that bubble tonight, not when tomorrow meant Bradley would be seabound once again. The reminder of his departure had you nuzzling closer to him. Part of you wished you could sink into his skin somehow; to both stay at his side and shroud yourself from the muddled emotions you kept at bay. Bradley responded to your movement with a soft kiss to the top of your head and a contented sigh slipping past his lips.

How was so relaxed, not knowing what was to come of this deployment? It was equal parts inspiring and horrifying to see the stoicism he held for his work. You knew better than most how much it meant for him to follow in the footsteps of his father. The potential dangers would never outweigh the pride and passion he felt for flying. So instead, you sat to bear the brunt of the worry whenever he was sent off.

Shifting up slightly, you dared to find his face. His eyes sparkled in the streaks of moonlight seeping from the window. They were fixed on the ceiling as if he were deep in thought.

"What's on your mind?" Bradley did not shift his gaze to you just yet. Instead, he took in another deep breath, lifting his head along the way. His exhale was exasperated and furthered your concern. You sat up more, a hand trailing behind to cup his cheek. "Bradley?" you tried again. "You know you can talk to me about anything. I would never judge you."

The eyes Bradley met you with were filled with uncertainty; and hesitation, too. If you had known any better, you would suspect his thoughts were mirroring your own. What are we? What is this? Do you feel the same as I do? What do we do about it? There were too many questions for too few hours left together. There was never enough time.

You had settled with the time you could share, the sunny days filled with laughter and the intimate nights that became second nature to you both. Any question of “more” was pushed further and further off the table with every assignment.

He gave you half a smile as he brushed your hair back from your face. "You're so sincere," he whispered. A light flush danced along your cheeks as you fought a shy smile. "You look out for me more than anyone. You always have."

"And you have for me, too," you reminded him.

we sailed on together, we drifted apart, and here you are by my side.

Naval life brought you and Bradley together. He was the son of the great and ill-fated Nick Bradshaw, while you were the daughter of the highly decorated admiral Tom Kazansky. Virginia was home to you both in the years of your youth and rarely did your mothers keep you apart as you grew. Bradley was your best friend, and him yours.

You supported him on his journey to the Navy: trained alongside him for his physicals and quizzed him on examination materials. It was in those same moments you first felt afraid, both of what could happen to him in service and what you felt blooming in your chest. Half of that fear was suspended when your Uncle Pete pulled Bradley’s papers from the naval academy. The other half buried itself deep down as you acted once again as a shoulder for the frustrations of your best friend.

The decades following saw you both through all the stages of life: college classes, breakups, graduations, careers, apartments. Though your contact waned and waxed along the way, your paths never failed to converge. Like when he was stationed in Connecticut while you were living there, or when you found him vacationing in Key West during a work trip.

Your path led you back to San Diego, once your parents based themselves there. Only weeks ago had you moved across the country to support them both as your father's condition worsened. They pushed you to take some nights for yourself, and the Hard Deck was an easy recommendation.

Despite the many twists of fate that had reunited you for years, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind of emotions you felt seeing Bradley there. You were fighting to catch a half-decent breath as your heart beat rapidly in your chest.

It wasn’t long before he spotted you. There was some sort of unspoken second sense you had for one another. After a warm hug and some quips from his squad mates, you two were sharing drinks and laughing together like always. It was as if no time had passed since your last serendipitous meeting. He asked about your life, and you asked about his. Your throat tightened at his reason for returning to TOP GUN, but you shoveled those feelings, like always.

They resurfaced at the closing of your father’s funeral. Your Uncle Pete took to escorting your mother away while you stood still as stone at the gravesite. All of the aviators in attendance had departed from the cemetery. All but one.

It was quiet, apart from the slight whistle of the air. You heard the careful padding of feet behind you but cared not to face the intruder. A hand along the small of your back was all you needed to know who had stayed behind. As your face scrunched up in sorrow, Bradley curled you against himself. He kept you guarded through your tears, murmuring every word of solace he thought of into your ear.

And when you urged you could not face the others in mourning, Bradley brought you to your hotel room. He held you through your grief for Tom, as you had held him through his for Carole. He promised that night to forever hold you in your hardest moments, and you shakily promised the same.

Somehow, everything felt like it would turn out okay: the loss of your father, the mission, and whatever came after. Through every peak and valley, it had always felt like that when Bradley was beside you.

living without you, living alone, this empty house feels so cold. wanting to hold you, wanting you near. how much i want to bring you home.

Housesitting seemed like a good idea in the moment. You had yet to find your own bearings on the West Coast as you kept your mother company in her grief. She was kind to open her home to you, yet you craved to return to the breadth of your independence. Crashing at an empty house gave you a taste of that.

It was a no-brainer to Bradley. By the time he had gotten his papers, you were his home’s most frequent guest. He trusted you more than anyone; though, he would never say as such to Nat. The younger lieutenant had already teased enough about her friend’s recovered friendship.

Pieces of that friendship were dotted around the house, you quickly discovered. You had tried your best to keep your mind away from it. The days not jammed with work assignments and housekeeping drew too long. No hobby or day trip could fill the void caving deep in your chest. Empty notification screens and inboxes tore it further apart.

You caved on the fifth week, finally diving into the details of the quaint beach house. Bradley had kept the memories of almost four decades perfectly preserved in so many ways. Virginia Beach carnival tickets from your teen years in a trinket box, a takeout menu from a diner in Connecticut stuffed into a desk drawer, an incredibly tacky Key West magnet hung on his fridge.

An entire photo album was dedicated to your shared Navy family: your aviator uncles and fathers, your mothers, and the pair of you. Faded tickets and receipts were pasted alongside the pictures of your years together once he had a mind for momentos. You felt your chest grow tighter at the thought that went into each page.

Five weeks had passed without a single word from him or any of the friends you now shared. You knew missions could be like this, your own father having gone AWOL for months on several different top-level occasions. And yet, it never left you feeling so empty before.

Bradley's room had stayed shut since he closed it before leaving. You had not dared to breach his privacy, despite his continual assurances that you could sleep in his bed while he was away.

“It’s practically our bed at this point, isn’t it?”

But the closeness was too much. You had needed to distance yourself from it, desperate to quiet the fright echoing in your mind. Now, you longed to drown yourself in the ghost of his presence.

Bradley had fixed up his things before leaving. Ever the neat freak, his floor was swept clean and his bedding was perfectly tucked. The only difference you spotted was a green woolen blanket peeking above one pillow.

Carole had gifted you that blanket. It had started as you needing it one night at her house and quickly became a regular borrowing occurrence. You only ever returned it when she was at her sickest. The hope was to provide her with the same compassion and encouragement she gave you as you grew up. After she passed, you didn’t think to ask where it ended up.

You clutched onto the material, desperate sobs shaking your body. Bradley had held onto it this whole time. He tucked it in safely where he had wanted you to be, to provide you the comfort you needed while he was preparing for a flight that held no guarantee of a safe return. Bradley Bradshaw was looking out for you again, just like he always had.

The weight of it all dawned on you as you lay cold as ever in that bed. How much you wished he would walk through the door, how much you yearned for the warmth of his body beside yours; how much you wished to tell him everything. In the light of your realization, nothing mattered more than the docking date just over the horizon.

but now that you've come back, turned night into day, i need you to stay.

You had wanted to go to the dock: to be the person Bradley bolted off of the ship to embrace, the one to welcome him home after weeks away. It was the silence that locked you in place. Not a single form of correspondence had reached you since he had departed. Frustration would be an easy crutch to rely on if you weren’t so riddled with fear.

Fear that your last kiss was on the front steps of his porch. Fear that you would never again hear his honeyed voice singing along to your radio. Fear that you had lost your one true companion in this life, past your ups and downs along the way.

Nat was making rounds to grab Jake, Bob, and Javy off of the carrier, anyway. “It’s no problem,” she had said when you called her not half an hour before you had been planning to leave. It was scribbled on your calendar, with a little heart that Bradley added on himself. Your eyes filled with hot tears as you stared at it.

You dreaded a knock on your door, accompanied by an officer wearing a sullen expression and desolate words that would blur in your ears. Or the sorrowful looks worn by his closest squad mates as they found you in the crowd of families and other loved ones awaiting their arrival.

The possibilities plagued any chance of restful sleep, that night above all the nights since his departure. Instead, you curled yourself against Bradley’s beat-up loveseat from college, eyes darting to the front door at every blare of headlights passing by.

The ungodly hour ticked on from the tacky bar clock on the wall: one of Goose’s favorite old house accessories. Draped around your shaky form was the blanket from Carole. Your father’s dog tags hung from your neck. Would you soon need memorabilia to remember Bradley by, too?

A soft creak of wood caught your attention, then another. Keys jingled at the front door as the lock began to turn. Tired from travels and anxious from his own arrival, Bradley trudged through the door with his bag in tow.

You barely contained your gasp, drawing his attention right to you as you lurched up from your seat. The duffel fell from his hand with a light thud on the floor. Not a second was wasted before you ran to embrace him. Bradley caught you instantly as you leaped into his open arms.

The tears you had restrained for hours fell freely into the fabric of his uniform. Your hands clung tightly around his neck, scared to ever let go.

“I’ve got you,” Bradley soothed as he felt the rush of your anxieties manifesting. “I’m right here, darlin’; I’m home.”

“I was s-so worried,” you hiccuped. “I-I didn’t hear anything, a-and I-”

“Shhh, I know. I know; I’m so sorry.” He walked you both back over to the loveseat. Falling against it, Bradley held you closer to him as his wind-chapped lips buried into your hair. A deep inhale drew you closer to his shoulder, the resulting exhale elevating you to the familiar beat of his heart.

Only a few moments passed before you began to push at his chest. He was quick to brace himself for you to sit upright in his lap. Your eyes scanning him were unreadable. Bradley rubbed the tops of your thighs, clad in his old UVA sweatpants, as he waited on you patiently.

The words were right there. They had burdened the tip of your tongue through almost every stage of your intertwined lives. No matter what the outcome would be, no excuse was great enough to keep them caged any longer. You were done keeping this final piece of yourself from the person who had already put together the rest.

“I was looking around here, while you were gone,” you sniffled. Bradley nodded as a gentle encouragement. He could read your apprehension as clear as day. Still, he would never force answers from you that you were not yet ready to give. He gave you soft and composed reassurances instead.

After taking a deep breath, you continued. “We’ve spent so much of our lives dancing around one another; our whole lives, even.” You fought to keep your eyes locked in his, despite the adrenaline beginning to race through your system. “And no matter what’s happened, and what has come between us, we have always found each other again.” Bradley nodded again, his lips curving ever so slightly upwards. His thumbs continued to trace shapes over the decades-old cotton.

“You have made my every victory a celebration, every hurdle a little easier to jump. But I was always scared.” His smile dropped, a slight frown replacing it. “I was scared of how dark it would feel to lose the way your-” You hesitated at the word, debating whether it was too powerful to use. The feel of his hands squeezing tenderly at your hips stirred your voice forward. “The way your care lights up my life.”

You finally let your chin fall, to break his piercing gaze and take a moment to collect yourself. “I have hidden myself in fear for too long. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“I love you.” The words froze you. Processing them was not an easy feat, even more so when you had not seen him speak them. You flitted your widened eyes back up at Bradley. He was staring at you in a way you never recognized before, though no different from how he’d regarded you all along. It was only now you could put a name to it.

“I love you,” Bradley said again, to prove to you both that he really had. “You have always been my home and my safe haven from everything I've gone through.” He released his soft grip on your hips to caress your face instead, thumbs swiping at the tears still falling from your eyes. “Your love lights up my life, too.”

so now i come to you, with open arms. nothing to hide: believe what i say. so here i am, with open arms, hoping you'll see what your love means to me.

#bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster imagine #top gun rocktober #bradley bradshaw #rooster #top gun rooster #top gun fanfiction

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nrdmssgs · 1 year ago

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You weren't supposed to laugh

Masterlist

My submission to @glitterypirateduck 's Alex Keller Challenge November 10-19 Promt used: №27 You weren't supposed to laugh Pairing: Alex Keller x Reader TWs: no Friends to lovers, fluff, confession.

"You're an egoist, Alex Keller," he mutters irritated to himself, fastening his pace, almost running, ignoring cold heavy water drops landing on his head.

How long did he knew her? Five years? Or seven? How long does he have this hopeless crush? Five years? Or... Yes, he was done for from day one. She had this certain warmth surrounding her, a serenity that contrasted sharply with the intensity of Alex's work. The world could descend deeper into a chaos, but she remained a constant in his life, a pillar of support, he selfishly was afraid to lose. So Alex Keller, the devoid of fear Echo 3-1, kept his mouth shut, just holding on to her, even as a friend only.

"A coward!" His insults are spilled through gritted teeth. Alex was ready to risk his life again and again, but didn't have the courage to confess his feelings. The stakes seemed too high, his chances - almost non-existent. Why would ever decide, he was the right guy for her after all?

He was almost never there, when something bad happened to her. Alex didn't hold her, when she had to put down her old dog - he was on the other part of globe, fighting. He didn't distract her with a movie night and snacks, when she had to wait for a result of a quite serious medical test - he was sleeping in a transport between two missions. He wasn't even there to cheer her up, after her project, she worked on so hard, got rejected - he has just taken the car to a service station and was walking out of it on his two. She didn't specify in the first place, when would the presentation take place, but Alex feels terrible for not asking her every week, every day, if necessary, when is the D-day for her project. And because of that, he found out the bad news per phone call.

She sounded exhausted. She was never a whiny type, but this time Alex heard tears in her voice. Too much effort was put into this work, too many sleepless nights. It broke his heart to hear her like that, and he panicked.

"...Useless dumbfuck." He stops for a moment, replaying their call in his mind.

For some reason he decided, he needs to make her laugh at any cost. Maybe it was the pain in how her 'hey, can you please talk to me for a few minutes?' sounded. But Alex was lost. At first, he tried his stupid jokes. As many as he could remember. When it didn't help - he switched to imaginary scenarios.

"Hey, you know, what would be funny? If you brought a soldier on your presentation! So that every time, your clients interrupted you or paid more attention to a view outside their windows - the soldier would harshly snap at them. 'Following every single letter of this debriefing could save your life, private!' or something like that..." Alex doesn't really control the words leaving his mouth as long as they make her laugh. And he actually succeeds, because in a few moments she starts to chuckle. So he goes on, telling her, how would her day would go, if she was followed by a military guy in a full gear and a death stare ready for anyone, who is about to cross her path.

"He would scare others off, you know?"

"With his glare or with his guns?"

"With his bizarre hairstyle. You know how your hair start looking after a week of constant sandstorms?"

Her laughter is a light, tinkling melody to his ears, reminiscent of wind chimes on a breezy day - light and refreshing. In reality, its the only thing on his mind every time, he has to endure through another sandstorm on deployment.

"... and at the end of the day he would escort you home and salute you."

"Wait, and a payment? I wonder, how much would it cost to hire such a guy for the day."

"Payment? Don't turn a beautiful act of an altruism into some banal deal! Dunno, maybe a forehead kiss?"

For the next ten minutes they discuss military payment strategies, barely containing laughter. When they say goodbye, a random phrase escapes his lips.

"Love you so much."

She laughs once again. Something deep inside Alex shrinks. He doesn't even hear her saying 'bye' - every other voice around him get silenced by a sinister noise - a symphony of shattered hopes and distant echoes.

He's an egoist to keep her in the dark, not shoving her his true feelings for ages. A coward, who could never open his mouth, even when the moment was right. A fool, who just blurted this confession out of nowhere in the middle of a joke. She didn't understand, he meant it, and Alex can't blame her honestly.

And now he runs to her place like a dog, running after a car carrying away his favorite person. He is desperate to the point, that he can't even start thinking, what would he tell her, once she opens the door.

So when he sees her tired, yet surprised face, his first phrase comes out as awkward as the confession itself.

"You weren't supposed to laugh."

She looks at him startled and confused for a few painfully long moments. As Alex understands, how puzzling that sounded without the whole context from his mind, he runs his hand through his wet hair and shakes his head.

"Alex? You're ok? I-I wasn't expecting you!" She drags him in her house and takes off his wet jacket, so calmly, as if he hasn't just said some complete nonsense.

And at that moment Alex understands: for two long he stayed in his very own trail of thoughts, his own context. She definitely deserved to know more about what was going on in his head. He no longer had the right to keep everything quiet for years and then dump such strange conversations on her.

So he touches her shoulder softly.

"Hey, don't bother hanging up my jacket. I might need it in a moment, if I sre-"

"Alex, you're scaring me! What is happening, why are like this?" A worry in her voice stings him with guilt. But he proceeds, ignoring raindrops still rolling down his face and under the collar.

"I know, we were playing around on the phone today. And I was incredibly happy to cheer you up. But the last thing I told you... You weren't supposed to laugh. Because I meant it. And before you slap my face for being such a mess - I know, it sounded as a part of a joke. But it wasn't. It wasn't for the last I-don't-even-know-how-many years. And if you give me a chance - I am ready to confess it properly. But if there's no need - I'd better just take my jacket and see myself out."

As he fell silent, the world around them seemed still. His eyes, always so attentive and kind, when she was around, looked deeply worried. Alex felt vulnerable, everything in him screamed to keep her by his side at any cost, to turn this all into yet another joke, so that she calms down and stays his friend at least. But Alex didn't let these feeling get better of him. He waited patiently and obediently, not daring even to breathe in.

She turned away, and hung his jacket on a hanger.

"You won't be needing this anytime soon, Alex."

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cinderswife · 1 year ago

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currently rotating rose red around in my brain so here's some outfits i designed for her (this is pre-meeting cinders btw)! bonus design notes under the cut :3

nude

i knew immediately that i wanted rose to be short and built like a brick shithouse. she is dense and compact and impossible to knock over. also, she gets to be a bear girl because everyone in my ouatis au is an animal eared person. its a fun concept i saw trawling the tumblr tag and i have decided it is very canon.

absolutely covered in freckles

yes those are top surgery scars. very recent in fact! its a cross between unrealized gender things and the pain of breasts that are just. too big. always.

her tail is usually too small to be seen from this angle but i wanted to show off her tiny red puff

most of her scars are from military combat with the exception of the top surgery scars and the one on her left hand which came from when she punched a window at the age of 15 defending snow from one of their dads getting super duper upset b/c snow was starting to date

she is 4'10" and so proud of it. will kick your ass if you're a dick about it

pajamas

nothing much to say here, she just. doesn't care all that much. tank top and sweat pants are the perfect combo of temperatures for her.

also she wears heart patterned boxers and we love her for that

military work uniform

do you know how hard it is to design a military uniform when you don't usually give a shit about the military. i spend so many hours going down worldbuilding subreddits and forums before i figured out something i was happy with. anyways! this is a non-combative officer's work uniform (aka the uniform rose wore when she was commander of the prison cinders was in). i picked red because it's the color most strongly associated with cole's army, but i figure that soldiers in combat would have better camouflage built into their uniforms.

the patch on her left shoulder (the one with the deer) is the symbol for colonel. it's also mirrored on a smaller scale on her breast. cole's army uses animals to mark higher ranks

the other shoulder patch marks her current assignment

i liked white as an accent color because of its prevalence in the album. also it looks nice!

the sleeve stripes and the chevrons both indicate that she is a very important officer

the other patches on her breast are the simplified coat of arms for her noble house (the house of grimm) and all of the medals she has earned in her 11 years of service

military dress uniform

the fancy version of her uniform for Events and Public Appearances. it's a bit darker in tone for the sake of visual interest and has a lot more accessories. this one was a nightmare to color i stg but i'm super happy with the way it turned out.

you get to see all her medals! she has complicated feelings on them but they are shiny and look very nice so.

the stripes, chevrons, and deer are all the same as the work uniform for some easy visual shorthand of her rank

the only time rose will ever wear a tie or any other neck decoration because it's regulation.

i liked the way a black undershirt looked over a white one, no other reason lol

the bear medal is because the bear is a symbol of her noble family. most people have a cougar of some sort instead.

the sword and the lion are both special awards granted specifically by cole. the lion in particular came from her first deployment where she accidentally changed the tides on the invasion of the perrault (cinders' planet) and became a war hero/propaganda piece at 19

the boots have buckles. they are never quite tight enough and its annoying.

casual dress

off duty, rose wears crisp, well tailored masc outfits. she knows how to dress herself to look effortlessly important due to being raised noble but she doesn't think too hard about it.

she wears shorts instead of full pants whenever she can get away with it. snow hates this.

no she is not buttoning up all the way. why would you make her put this much effort into it. she's hotter with it undone

fun fact: i initially made her vest and shorts green but i decided that blue looked nicer

fancy dress

i've elected to go with a 1700s inspired look for the nobility. it's very fairytale-esque and also allows me to have fun with it! i wanted to do more embroidery, but i wound up not having the patience for such a thing. ah well, what i've got looks nice enough.

rose usually wears cool colors in her formal outfits. this purple is a particular favorite of hers because it goes really nicely with her hair and ears without being obnoxious

once again, rose out here avoiding any sort of neck accessory or hat. accessories that annoy her for $10,000

the lilac undershirt is not connected to the off-white trousers it's two separate pieces.

the gold accents cut a very striking figure and also look very pretty <3

the boots are supposed to be longer and pointier but idk how well i pulled that off aha

she's very handsome and i love her

#the mechanisms #ouatis #once upon a time (in space)#rose red ouatis #planet's doodles #im really proud of this btw outfit design is not a strong point of mine but i think i really pulled it together for rose #please love and appreciate my blorbo #verse: dog star in ursa major

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techdirectarchive · 8 months ago

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The schema version of the database is from a newer version of wsus

The WSUS installation from Server Manager fails with a fatal error stating, “The schema version of the database is from a newer version of WSUS than currently installed.” This error requires either patching the WSUS server to at least that version or dropping the database. Windows update indicates that the system is up to date. Please see how to delete ADFS Windows Internal Database without…

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#“WSUS Post-deployment Configuration Failed #Microsoft Windows #Remove Roles and Remove features #The schema version of the database #When prompted with the "Remove Roles and features Wizard"#Windows Internal Database (WID)#Windows Server 2012 #Windows Server 2016 #Windows Server 2019 #Windows Server 2022 #Windows Server 2025 #WSUS #WSUS Database #WSUS Updates (Windows Server Update Services

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antis0cial23 · 9 months ago

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The Pride of the Navy

Chapter 3: Cap'n Mav

Summary: Training starts and he is the teacher?

Warnings: Swearing

Quin's alarm blared in her ears, the lovely time of '5:30 am' showing on her phone. Well, if there was any day for hell to break loose, it would be today. Stress had already found a home in her bones; the unknown mission soon to be found out. Based on everyone present at the bar the previous night, this was some serious shit they were getting into, and Quin didn't know if she wanted a part of it. But here she was, getting dressed in her service khakis. Her short waves pass regulation standards to stay down, unlike Phoenix's long hair forced into a regulation bun.

Buttoning up her stiff shirt, she was dressed to head to base, although she was unsure of her body wanted to follow. Unsure of what was to come, Quin didn't just have to think of herself for this no doubt deadly mission that was to come. Someone needed to be there for when Emmelyn returned home after long deployments, take care of her when she had those hard days every Navy man and woman had. And currently, Quin was the only person who could fill that position, or so she thought. Grabbing her keys and jacket, Quin exited her home, nerves bursting with a buzz that filled her soul. Her cherry red baby rumbled to life, the hum calming in nature. Pulling out of her driveway, Quin could only think of her sister and the memories they shared.

Quin drove down the Hollywood streets, her sister in the passenger seat. Music blared on her speakers, windows down and cruising. Emmelyn loudly sang the lyrics of 'Cherry Cola' by Kuwada as they drove.

"SHE'S MY CHERRY COLA, SHE GON KEEP ME SOBER" Em sang, enjoying the music. The only thing Quin could do was smile. Emmelyn had just turned eighteen, Quinlan twenty-eight. Maybe they weren't fully related, only half-siblings by their mother, but Quin would do absolutely anything for her. Like driving almost a full day from Corpus Christi, Texas to Los Angeles, California just so Emmelyn could go to the Cali beaches she grew up on before she made her way to college.

Quin felt terrible making her move her junior year of high school, but Emmelyn understood, and quite honestly was excited for the change. Em may or may not have had a thing for Texas country boys. Quinlan flew with the Blue Spades, enjoying the group, even though it was comprised of mostly men. Quin got her allotted time off from her supervisor, since after all, your siblings only graduate once. So here they were, rolling through California with the windows down, screaming the lyrics of 'Cherry Cola'.

"Quinlan you looser, sing the damn music instead of smiling like a fuckin weirdo." Sometimes Quin wondered where Emmelyn's personality came from, but who was she to care, she was told to sing, so that's what she did.

"Pull me to the surface, no way I deserve this. We like that you did came, I'm so glad that you came!" Quin sang softer than her sister's belting but sang nonetheless.

Quin's mind resurfaced from the depths of her memories once she reached the base and by no means was she pleased to see the North Island venue. The place was filled with memories, mainly of her fellow Top Gun graduates getting their asses kicked, but it was a fun time despite the frustration. The sense that this wouldn't be the same was disappointing, but Quin only hoped to survive what was to come. Walking through the base she saw Phoenix walking toward the female locker room, which was a, painfully, new addition to the campus.

"Cas! We're meeting in hangar 7. Admiral Simpson told me to inform the group since I was the first one here." Phoenix didn't look too enthused, but again, when did she ever. Quin just nodded in response, stepping in tune with her fellow pilot. They made their way to the hangar, which was unfortunately far from where the two were. Maybe it would've been easier to drive over, but Quin didn't mind the walk. Walking always helped relieve some of her nerves, and today? She needed that more than a caffeine addict needed coffee.

Arriving at the hangar, she and Phoenix had generally walked in silence except for the agreed expressions of curiosity. Hangman sat at a desk; Coyote next to him. Behind was Omaha and Fritz. From the time it took for Phoenix and Quin to walk, mostly everyone was already there. Bob sat across the room from Hangman, saving the seat next to him for Phoenix. Behind him was Payback and Fanboy. Harvard and Yale resided in front of Hangman, Rooster nowhere in sight. Quin took an empty seat in front of Phoenix, leaving the seat next to her the inevitable resting place for none other than the angry chicken named Rooster. ‘Oh, joy.’ Was the only expression that graced her mind at the predicament. Rooster joined the crowd, almost late and looking a little hungover. All Quin did was continue her quiet conversation with Phoenix and her wizzo.

"Attention on deck!" With speed, everyone stood. Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Bates walked into the hangar, Hondo following suit.

"Morning. Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated." Admiral Bates’ voice was firm, just like any other Navy admiral. He glanced around the room, taking in the pilots before him. "You're all Top Gun graduates. The elite. The best of the best. That was yesterday." Quin already knew this was gonna be a pain in the ass mission, aside from the glaringly obvious sense of danger that unconsciously haunted every word, hanging in the air like a thick sickness.

"The enemy's new 5th generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage." At that moment, she was sure every single aviator in the room had the same thought. Oh. Shit.

"Success... now more than ever, comes down to the man- or woman, in the box. Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve." Nothing wrong including a friendly competition, right? Quin could only sigh, knowing none of the competition was going to be taken lightly. Somehow, the Admiral was still talking.

"Your instructor is a Top Gun graduate with real-world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master. His exploits are legendary. He is considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced. What he has to teach you may very well be the difference between life and death." Admiral Bates paused, what a way to hype a man up.

"I give you Captain Pete Mitchell. Callsign-Maverick." Quin's whole body paused as her mind slowly, probably too slowly, caught up. ‘Oh, holy mother of God, help us all.’ She glanced back, seeing him make his way up the center aisle of desks. Rooster had turned to face away from the aisle, looking towards the open garage-like doors of the hangar, Quinlan seeing his shift from the corner of her eye. Something was going to break. Either a person, mentally or physically still being decided, a plane, or an inanimate object that took the frustration from the grudge-holding chicken. Maverick cleared his throat, his unsure body language speaking volumes.

"Morning..." This was going to be painful. "The F-18 NATOPS" He semi-shakily held up the manuals, "It contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft. I'm assuming you know the book, inside and out." Maverick looked expectantly at the fliers in front of him. Some shouted yeses, some affirmative noises. "So does your enemy." And with that, the hollow thud of the manuals going into the trashcan to his left echoed throughout the hangar.

"Here we fuckin’ go…" Quin whispered, mainly to herself, but she saw the slight nod Rooster gave. Maybe things weren't as bad as she thought.

"But what the enemy doesn't know... is your limits. I intend to find them. Test them. Push beyond." As much insecurity as he held in the beginning, he wasn't doing too bad now. But having Maverick training Top Gun graduates, only so many rules and regulations could be followed without complete disregard.

"Today we will start with what you only think you know. Time to show me what you're made of." Maverick's small grin was easily seen by Quin, which only made her worried about what he had in store. And so, they were off. Phoenix and Quinlan off to the female locker room, the rest of the cocky Aviators to the men's.

"There ain't no way in hell this is going to go well." Phoenix spoke once they were behind the closed doors of the locker room. Switching from her service khakis to her flight suit, Quin one hundred percent agreed, nodding at Phoenix’s statement.

"Especially with..." Quin just shook her head and exhaled, she stopped herself, not wanting to share Rooster’s business.

"How are things in that... department?" Phoenix asked lightly, not really wanting to upset her friend, assuming Quinlan meant Rooster.

"Being honest? No fucking clue." And that was the end of that conversation. Quinlan patted her pocket, making sure they were still there.

"Still?" Phoenix's voice sounded sad, maybe a hint of pity, but Quin expected it. She nodded, pulling out the chain that held one of Rooster's dog tags and one of hers. She never flew without it, even now. God knows what Rooster did with his, even more so since it was his idea. Placing them back in her pocket, she and Phoenix headed back to the hangar.

Once back at the hangar, the 'teams' were decided. Team one was Payback and Fanboy, wingman: Rooster. Team two Harvard and Yale, wingman: Casper. Quin, not overly enthused about being wingman to the pair, just nodded at the grouping. Team three was Phoenix and Bob, wingman: Hangman. Quin and Phoenix locked eyes, almost making Quin laugh at the dead look in her fellow teammate’s eyes. Team four was the remaining three aviators, Omaha and Fritz, wingman: Coyote. With the teams decided, Team One went to their aircrafts, while the rest gathered around the radio in the green room.

"Good morning, aviators. This is your captain speaking. Welcome to basic fighter maneuvers. As briefed, today's exercise is dogfighting. Guns only. No missiles. We do not go below the hard deck of five-thousand feet. Working as a team, you have to shoot me down. Or else..." Maverick's voice crackled over the radio, his cocky pilot attitude shining through like no other, forcing Quin into an involuntary eye roll. Gotta love pilots...

"Or else what, Sir?" Quin could almost feel the idiocy coming through Payback's voice.

"Or else I shoot back. If I shoot either one of you down, you both lose." Maverick's smile was evident in his words, these boys were in for it now.

"This guy needs an ego check." Hangman spoke, almost as if he was the one going to give it to him.

"No more than you, pretty boy." Quinlan was quiet, only the people she wanted to hear, hearing her statement.

"Oh, so you think I'm handsome?" His smile was accompanied by annoyingly white teeth.

"Not so fast, Ken Doll." A very unamused expression fell onto Quin's face. This man was gonna drain the life out of her. And that's when Quin heard the fucking terrificidea Payback put on the table. Whoever gets shot down first does two hundred push-ups. Quin wanted nothing else but to punch him, her arms already aching at the thought.

"That bastard..." She and Phoenix spoke simultaneously, earning an odd look from Hangman. Quin could only snort at Maverick's antics, hearing the whisper of him not wanting to get fired on the first day, and the way he flew between the two jets, ending inverted over Rooster. Quin already knew that was gonna piss the Rooster off.

"Rooster just saved your life boys, but it's gonna cost him..." Maverick was too cocky for his own good sometimes.

"Not this time, old man." The second Quin heard his rough voice, she knew something was about to go down, and by the looks of it, so did Phoenix. The two shared a look of anticipatory worry. When the beeping from their planes started, warning of low altitude, Quin could only breathe. ‘In. Out.’ She told herself. Maybe it was a plane and a person that was going to break today.

"Five hundred feet, Rooster. Pull up." Mav's voice was worried but still determined not to lose, their double cobra stunt reaching towards the ground faster and faster.

"Pull up you idiot." Quin whispered to herself, not wanting this to be the day someone had to scrape Rooster from the California mountains. She didn't want that any day, to be fair. Phoenix looked at Quin with a face like pity, but her own worry cast that ever despised look aside.

"Shit!" Rooster’s voice came through the radio, breaking the silence. She assumed he pulled up, or more so she hoped. A few moments later, Maverick called the kill, telling the team to head back to base.

"Team two, get ready." Mav knew they were all listening, and so Quin hurriedly walked to her plane. Harvard and Yale followed her to their aircraft as well, leaving Rooster to do his push-ups in peace.

"Yo, Casper." One of them called from behind. She turned, waiting for whoever spoke to continue. "Yale is the pilot, I'm the wizzo. Let's hope we fly well together. And maybe you use more words." Harvard tried joking, which Quin secretly appreciated, nodding at Harvard.

"Hope so, frat boys." Quin said to them as she reached her single-seat F-18. What were the odds the two college callsigns ended up flying together? Climbing the latter and situating herself in the seat, Quin could only hope Maverick was nicer to her than the previous wingman. She gripped the tags in her pocket while doing all the necessary checks in the cockpit. Her jet rumbled to life; the buzzing of the engines felt in her whole body. Her wheels left the runway, Yale and Harvard right behind.

"Good day, fliers. You know the objective, and the cost. Let’s get to it." Maverick was nowhere in sight, but they all knew he was close. Whether that was below them, or off somewhere hidden by the mountains, they didn't know.

"Got eyes, Uni?" A good group name for the college boys... Probably.

"Uni? Really? Are you British?" Yale chuckled at the terrible British accent Harvard put on.

"Come on, boys. Focus." They could hear how she was trying to be serious as Quin spoke. Maybe they would make a good team.

"The lady's right." Mav's voice broke through their headphones, with a crispness that could only mean he was uncomfortably close.

"When the fuck- He's right behind us, Yale!" Harvard sounded panicked at the very least.

"Breaking left, Cas!" And so, Cas did too, both planes veering left, Maverick following easily.

"Boys, when I tell you to dive, do it." Her voice was even, while her plane ever so slightly slowed. Quinlan gave the signal, the boys diving, Mav taking the bait, surprisingly. Quin slammed the brakes, then dove after the ego-inflated captain. A few seconds passed, Yale having to even out, because the hard deck was made to be listened to, the previous run having totally agreed, therefore Maverick too. Quin was still above Mav, ready to shoot.

"Cas, the fuck are you!" Yale spoke as opposed to Harvard.

"Don't worry, Ivy league." She tried to get tone, but unfortunately for her, Maverick looked up. His place abruptly turned, his course target switching to Quinlan.

"Fuck. Chang of plans. I'm bait, you're firing squad." Quin's voice betrayed her and some of her worry shone through. With confirmation from the two, Quin stayed at five thousand feet, knowing Maverick couldn't go below her but he was still on her tail.

"Y'all ready for some real flying?" Maverick's voice portrayed boredom, but he was slightly impressed as it was, they had already lasted longer than Rooster.

"Don't get too comfy, Cap'n Mav" Her slight southern accent, obtained by being around her mom and being stationed in Texas, formed around the nickname. And just like that, playtime was over. Quin quickly pulled back on the joystick, her altitude quickly rising, a few twists, making sure to fly in anything but a straight line made Maverick unable to get a good tone.

"Come on, Yale! Can't keep this up for long!" Quin enjoyed evading the captain, but it was far from easy. And she didn't want to do push-ups.

"I can't get good tone, Casper! Level out and I'll be able to get it." Yales concentration was evident in his words.

"No can-do buddy, the second I level out, I'm dead. Do some cocky pilot bullshit, man!" At this point, she was getting frustrated. And then Maverick pulled up, settling behind Yale. A few curses from the boys, and Quin had an idea.

"Speed up, like, a lot." Maybe this was stupid, but maybe it would work. Maybe.

"Like, now?!" "Yes, now dumbass!" And with that, Quin replaced her plane in the place the boys just were.

"Jesus!" Mavs spoke loudly. "Saved them, but now you can’t protect them." And before Yale and Harvard could get in position, the kill tone sounded in Quin's plane.

"Well, fuck me." Quin's frustration was hard to miss,

"Not literally, boys." She wanted to curse Payback for the push-ups she was going to have to do.

"Good flying, a bit dangerous, but good. Lasted a good minute. See Hondo for your push-ups, Cas." When they reached the group, Quinlan's arms were already aching at the thought of push-ups. When she reached Hondo, he gave her a slight look of surprise. Rooster only on number one thirty-seven of his two-hundred. Quin just shrugged, getting into position next to Rooster. And so, it started. One after another, her arms already hurting at eighty. Rooster should've been done, but he kept going with Quin. She didn't know if she found it endearing, or annoying.

"Rooster, you're done. You've been done." Hondo said once again as Quin reached one fifty. Rooster, very obviously off pace and struggling, just kept doing what could maybe be called a push up. Yale, Harvard, and Hangman made their way over, and all Quin could do was groan.

"Enjoying your push-ups, babe?" In no way did Quin think they, specifically Hangman, deserved a reply, so she didn't give them one.

"Oh, come on, Rooster, you can do better than that." Yale said, foot pushing on Rooster's shoulder.

"Oh, fuck off, Uni. Lucky I saved your pathetic asses." Quin continued her push-ups, wishing she didn't save the college boy's asses'. A little surprised by her words, he removed his foot but still stood close.

"Leave it, boys." Hondo pushed them to leave, trying to get them away. The second they were out of view, Rooster collapsed, chest on the tarmac. Quin had just reached two hundred, thank god. She put her knees down, sitting up. She looked up at Hondo, nodding as he glanced at Rooster. She just confirmed this was indeed normal. Without words, she waited for him. He knew she was there, but he didn't show how he felt about it. He saw the chain peeking from her pocket, and he knew exactly what it was. That alone was enough to make his heart hurt. After all, it was his fault.

With pained arms, he got up, leaving Quin sitting, or so he thought. The little jingle of the bell on her necklace gave away her position, walking close behind him. But again, no words left her. Just the small ringing of the bell as she stepped. Oddly, it was comforting, nostalgic. When they reached where they had to go separate ways, she left a hand on his arm. Quin just stared, eyebrows furrowed, almost as if asking him if he was good. Which, of fucking course he wasn't, and she knew, but hey since when was Rooster vulnerable. He looked, for what felt like a little too long, at her blue eyes. The same care in them that was there during their first run at Top Gun, at least until he was an idiot. He huffed out a breath and turned away, but to Quin that was enough of a response. In no way, shape, or form was Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw okay. And in the following days, everyone was going to know one way or another. But till that day comes to fruition, Quin was going to enjoy a nice, long, soothing shower after the training, if one could even call it that, they endured.

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