#windows deployment services

[radiantindia]

Upgrading to Microsoft Windows 11 Pro: What You Need to Know

Explore the benefits of upgrading to Microsoft Windows 11 Pro, including enhanced productivity features and a modern user interface, and find out where to buy in India.

[techdirectarchive]

How to install WSUS on Windows Server 2022

Windows Server Update Services (WSUS) centralises the management and distribution of Windows updates. Instead of relying on GPO or individual computers to fetch updates from the internet, administrators can control and distribute updates within the network using WSUS. In this article, we shall discuss how to install WSUS on Windows Server 2022. Please see how to fix “Windows 2016 Servers do not…

[nasa]

Tiny BurstCube's Tremendous Travelogue

Meet BurstCube! This shoebox-sized satellite is designed to study the most powerful explosions in the cosmos, called gamma-ray bursts. It detects gamma rays, the highest-energy form of light.

BurstCube may be small, but it had a huge journey to get to space.

First, BurstCube was designed and built at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland. Here you can see Julie Cox, an early career engineer, working on BurstCube’s gamma-ray detecting instrument in the Small Satellite Lab at Goddard.

BurstCube is a type of spacecraft called a CubeSat. These tiny missions give early career engineers and scientists the chance to learn about mission development — as well as do cool science!

Then, after assembling the spacecraft, the BurstCube team took it on the road to conduct a bunch of tests to determine how it will operate in space. Here you can see another early career engineer, Kate Gasaway, working on BurstCube at NASA’s Wallops Flight Facility in Virginia.

She and other members of the team used a special facility there to map BurstCube’s magnetic field. This will help them know where the instrument is pointing when it’s in space.

The next stop was back at Goddard, where the team put BurstCube in a vacuum chamber. You can see engineers Franklin Robinson, Elliot Schwartz, and Colton Cohill lowering the lid here. They changed the temperature inside so it was very hot and then very cold. This mimics the conditions BurstCube will experience in space as it orbits in and out of sunlight.

Then, up on a Goddard rooftop, the team — including early career engineer Justin Clavette — tested BurstCube’s GPS. This so-called open-sky test helps ensure the team can locate the satellite once it’s in orbit.

The next big step in BurstCube’s journey was a flight to Houston! The team packed it up in a special case and took it to the airport. Of course, BurstCube got the window seat!

Once in Texas, the BurstCube team joined their partners at Nanoracks (part of Voyager Space) to get their tiny spacecraft ready for launch. They loaded the satellite into a rectangular frame called a deployer, along with another small satellite called SNoOPI (Signals of Opportunity P-band Investigation). The deployer is used to push spacecraft into orbit from the International Space Station.

From Houston, BurstCube traveled to Cape Canaveral Space Force Station in Florida, where it launched on SpaceX’s 30th commercial resupply servicing mission on March 21, 2024. BurstCube traveled to the station along with some other small satellites, science experiments, as well as a supply of fresh fruit and coffee for the astronauts.

A few days later, the mission docked at the space station, and the astronauts aboard began unloading all the supplies, including BurstCube!

And finally, on April 18, 2024, BurstCube was released into orbit. The team will spend a month getting the satellite ready to search the skies for gamma-ray bursts. Then finally, after a long journey, this tiny satellite can embark on its big mission!

BurstCube wouldn’t be the spacecraft it is today without the input of many early career engineers and scientists. Are you interested in learning more about how you can participate in a mission like this one? There are opportunities for students in middle and high school as well as college!

Keep up on BurstCube’s journey with NASA Universe on X and Facebook. And make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[sinkovia]

Coffee shop

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee Shop Masterlist

After months of deployment, Simon was finally discharged, and the decision to settle down took root within him. Years of moving between apartments during deployments led him to the conclusion that it was time to have a place to call his own, a familiar haven to return to. He opted for a one-bedroom house in a quiet neighborhood of a small town—a space he could truly call home.

What appealed to him the most about this place was the convenience of having many things within walking distance, reducing the need for constant driving.

One of his newfound discoveries was a small cafe just five minutes away from his house. After finishing his workout in the afternoon, he grabbed one of the many books he had ordered and walked down. As he entered, the cozy atmosphere embraced him, and there were only a few patrons inside, eliciting a small sigh of relief from him.

It felt like the perfect place to unwind and delve into his books, a quaint spot where he could enjoy the simplicity of life after the rigors of military service.

When you saw him walk in, you took in his appearance and greeted him with a welcoming smile. Standing tall, he was a behemoth of a man, and you instinctively assumed he would order a straightforward black coffee. However, as he approached the counter and confidently stated his order for black tea in a strong Manchester accent, you nearly froze.

"Is something wrong?" His deep voice resonated, and you softly smiled, "Not at all, sir. I'm sorry. Would you like any sugar or milk?"

He grabbed his wallet and placed a ten-dollar bill on the counter, "Plain is fine."

Walking away, he took a seat near the front of the cafe, affording him a clear view of everyone entering and a pleasant sight through the nearby window. Your brows furrowed at the ten-dollar bill.

Where on God's green earth did he ever pay ten dollars for a cup of tea?

After making his cup, you retrieved his change of six dollars and approached his table. He seemed deeply engrossed in his book, you almost felt bad for interrupting him.

"Here's your tea, and the tea is only four dollars. This is your change." He glanced at the money on the table before looking up at you. His gaze lingered, taking in your features; you looked only a few years younger than him.

You were pretty too.

Shifting your weight from one leg to the other, you felt his eyes wandering. "Keep the change, love." His use of the endearment caught you off guard. People around here never spoke that way, but then again, based on his accent, you knew he wasn't from the area.

"Oh no, that's too much. Please, keep it." He picked up the cup, bringing it to his lips. After taking a sip, his eyes slightly widened. It was the best cup of tea he had had in years.

"Consider it a tip then. You know how to make a good cup," he said, and you smiled, feeling proud that this giant man appreciated the way you made tea.

"Thank you. That's very sweet of you to say." He hummed in response, and you took it as a sign to let him go back to his book and read in peace. You gathered the cash on the table and tucked it into your apron as you walked away.

After taking off your apron in the back, you made yourself a cup of tea before settling down in the corner of the cafe with a book. Simon glanced up at you, noticing an older man standing in your place at the register.

Were you on break?

His eyes returned to the pages of his book, and he continued reading until he heard you get up after about thirty minutes, standing back at the register with the book still in your hand. The only customers to come in were an older couple who chose to sit in the back, away from Simon.

A small timer on his watch beeped quietly, and he turned it off. Having spent around an hour and a half at the cafe, he thought it was a good time to head back home. Your eyes went to him when you heard the quiet beeping, observing as he tore a small piece of the napkin and used it as a bookmark. You smiled to yourself, recalling how you used to do the same before you started doodling on strips of paper to use as bookmarks.

As he got up from his seat, you smiled and called out to him, "Have a nice day."

He responded with a gruff "you too" before walking out and heading back home. Simon appreciated the quiet and emptiness of the cafe and decided he would definitely be returning tomorrow.

[apollabarnes]

part one // part three

thanks to @beanarie and @fiyaerrigan for cheerleading for more — hopefully this scratches that itch!

tommy's not sure how it happens, but he and athena start grabbing food once a week. sometimes it's dinner, sometimes breakfast, rarely it's lunch. they're both shift workers, so the changing schedule doesn't bother him.

it means that he has to keep going to the meetings, but… it's not so bad. if he talks, he talks around evan, because athena is close to evan and there's some things that she probably doesn't want to know. it's not as if he doesn't have a whole lifetime's worth of bad relationships to talk about.

he doesn't mention abby by name, either — that's a whole confusing mess that he just doesn't want to get into it with a member of evan's extended family.

mostly he listens, remembers, tries to use some of the reframing that they suggest.

"my dad was a real shithead," tommy says one night when he's halfway through a stack of waffles. "joining the army was just a way to get away from him."

athena makes an understanding noise, snapping her bacon in half.

they've both learned that if she talks, tommy's likely to clam up and drop the subject.

"he wrapped the car around a tree three years into my deployment," tommy continues. there had been a whole thing involving bereavement leave and a hardship transfer stateside because his mom couldn't cope afterwards. he doesn't like remembering that part, either. "it's probably the best thing he ever did with his life." tommy's still not sure whether he means killing himself or doing it in a way that meant no one else got hurt. the damage was limited to tommy and his mother, but that's been a hell of a shadow to deal with.

"i've met a few of those," athena says, after a pause to make sure tommy didn't want to add anything else.

"i'm not surprised." tommy methodically cuts a waffle along every raised imprint, popping a square into his mouth.

it's kind of like having a sponsor, he guesses. if that was something the family groups actually did. athena tells tommy how may's classes are going, that harry wants to stick around for college after he graduates. she tells him about a fire at an animal shelter that bobby had dealt with, and that buck — evan — had fostered a dog for a few days.

tommy wonders how that worked. evan had told him about hoover one night over dinner.

athena pauses mid-sentence and tommy stops her from apologising. "i can hear his name, it's fine." he's not sure how to explain that he's managed to… silo off evan from buck. evan is his ex. buck is one of athena's coworkers. hearing about buck doesn't make tommy sad, because he never really spent time with buck.

she gives him what he's dubbed the maurice stare. (he saw it a lot in the six months between bobby arriving and transferring to harbour. sees it more now.) but tommy is unflappable and therefore not bothered by it.

the standoff is broken by her phone buzzing. "that's my ride," athena tells him. "my car's in for service."

"i could have given you a ride," tommy offers before he can think better of it. "you didn't have to call an uber."

"that's cute, but i called my husband."

tommy breathes in. doesn't react. can feel the tension coiling around the base of his spine. "tell bobby…"

"he's not coming in, tommy," athena reassures him. "i told him i was grabbing food with someone from work."

tommy thinks about that. they're not in front of the windows, and his back is towards the door. the chances of bobby seeing or recognizing him are definitely lower than they would be if tommy showed up in his truck to drop athena off. and if bobby looks around the parking lot, well, how many grey trucks are in los angeles?

he'd still prefer the drop-off option.

"it's not like you need to keep this a secret," tommy says instead, even though every fiber of his being is screaming that he doesn't want anyone to know. that he doesn't want bobby, specifically, to know, because once he knows it's only a matter of time before the rest of the firehouse finds out.

"of course i don't, tommy. same time next week."

[desired-misery]

Serennedy Week 2025: Day 07 "I'll Always Miss You"

[Day 01] [Day 02] [Day 03] [Day 04] [Day 05] [Day 06]

It is late spring. Luis has the windows open on his ground-story apartment, enjoying the chattering of the evening crickets filtered through the window screens. Spring in D.C. is already warmer than the summers he is used to; Luis will happily pay a high electric bill to keep the apartment a tolerable temperature— meanwhile Leon smiles at him and says this is still acceptable weather for suit jackets outdoors, which is madness. Complete and utter madness— but if Luis wants to "pay to air-condition the outdoors, he's welcome to".

It was a good evening. It still is a good evening, after a shared dinner when Leon showed up after rush-hour traffic—

"I'm going back to work," Leon says over doing dishes, while his back is to Luis as he sorts through the silverware to put away. Luis hasn't gotten around to putting the clean load away before dinner was made, so now Leon was helping with both.

"Soon," Leon adds before Luis can think of a good response that isn't filled with disappointment.

It was nothing more than baseless hope that things would stay this way between them; Leon himself had been warning Luis from the very beginning, way before Luis kissed him the first time. Leon always talked about how he didn't usually have this much free time— and it's not like Luis is used to having this much free time, either.

Luis adjusts the cups in the cabinet, then closes it. He sits back up, shifting his wheelchair to face Leon— who is looking at the silverware still. "I though you were already back at work?"

Leon thinks for the right word, something he does often when the topic of what he does comes up. "Almost cleared for deployments again."

"You didn't switch permanently to Secret Service?"

The snort Leon makes is scornful. "That's below my pay grade, apparently."

"Ah," Luis says, like he understands. That sounds like a very important job to him. "Did you not want to stay?"

Leon turns to put the silverware away, taking time to carefully align them in their slots when he generally just tosses the bundle in there. "That's not up to me."

Luis, to keep himself from saying something about that, taps his knee with fingers. The way Leon talks about his work— the way he does his best to not talk about it— builds and builds on the impression that Leon would not be doing that kind of work if he had other options. Luis knows US service members have contracts. He wonders when Leon's is up— and if this is a common thing for government agents to deal with, not liking their assignments.

"That's a shame; I got the impression from you that you liked being at the White House," Luis says once he finds something that Leon would be more comfortable responding to.

"I like seeing Ashley. And I like not being shot at," Leon says, almost wry. "But I'm not needed there. I have other skills."

Luis does not ask what he wants to ask, so he asks something else. "Are you going to be moving, then? Somewhere else?"

"No," Leon says, glancing up to check Luis' expression— that Luis hopes is appropriately disappointed without being too much. "Home base is here, in D.C.; I am going to be traveling a lot. I'll be gone often."

Oh. How much is a lot? He shouldn't encourage the little flutter of hope in his chest, but that is not the worst outcome. "Do you have a timeline yet?"

Leon’s one shoulder shrug is careful, controlled. "Not really. Think there is some politics happening behind the scenes—"

"Politics, ey? In D.C.?"

That draws out a lopsided smile. "I'm not generally invited to those conversations."

That has to be the set up for some kind of joke. Luis takes the bait. "Why not?"

Leon finally stops fiddling with the silverware and shifts to he leans his hip against the counter. "My boss— well, bosses— say I am 'the opposite of helpful' when it comes to office politics."

Leon has the skill and awareness to be tactful in a verbal conflict— that's why he is so damn infuriating at times. Leon is way too pleased with himself over this.

"You're a menace on purpose."

Leon shrugs again, this time smirking. "Gets me out of a lot of meetings, though."

Luis laughs. "I cannot fault that logic. Damn, I wish I knew that worked. could have gotten me out of so many faculty meetings."

"Can't get me out of everything, unfortunately," Leon says with a sigh, leaving the very obvious unspoken issue between them.

They have time to talk about it more— later. Not tonight. Not right now. It will come up again; or it won't, and that'll be something else that will have to be handled.

"I'm sure you'll miss me," Luis says, teasing. "Me, and my cooking, and my singing, and my incessant talking—"

"I'll always miss you," Leon says, earnest in his way that is way more attractive than any flirtation that Leon could have tried.

"You always know what just to say." Luis says as he tugs Leon down for a kiss because Leon is close enough and Luis has yet to deny himself when the urge hits him when they're in the privacy of Luis' apartment.

Leon smiles against Luis' mouth, delaying them. "No, I don't."

"No, you don't." Luis replies, grinning too hard to kiss him. "But I like you despite that."

Leon laughs, low and warm and way too damn hot— and finally, Luis can regain control of himself to stop smiling like a fool and kiss Leon properly, as he deserves.

[polakina]

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

[bullet-prooflove]

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.

[orangez3st]

Welcome to Vau's! - Chapter 1

Fries & Rings

Delta Squad × OC | Modern AU | Fast Food Worker AU

✧ Chapter Summary: Raye's first time at Vau's—a local fast food place that everybody else at hometown seems to go to.

✧ Warnings: maybe US military thingy inaccuracies bcs I'm not from there and curse words, other than that; none :)

✧ Word Count: 2.7k

COLLAB WITH @carbon-corrie | Credits: OC Paisley Jettster belongs to Carbon, as well as some prompts and/or dialogue lines!

“Seven months of Oki deployment and first thing you do when you got home is driving out for greasy food.”

“Yup,” Eli says, popping the ‘p’.

Raye scoffs from the passenger seat. “And not a fucking nap.”

“Ay. Language, Raye.” Even with his focus on the neighborhood road ahead, Eli points a scolding finger at her—a sign that the traffic is not his sole focus at all. “I'm still your older brother.”

“It's literally nothing more than whatever you've said during service.”

“We don't curse as much in the Marines, trust me.”

Raye glares at him. At his stupid military regulations high-and-tight haircut and the smug smile lines because he's a goof of a brother. No idea how he's managed to maintain his sense of humor from being a goddamn Marine. From all she knows, it’s all horrors. Especially when one gets Okinawa. But at least Eli's come home alive and totally not spooked by those well-known urban legends. Or maybe he's immune to it already. He's a goof. A fearless goof. He makes a damn good Marine, and has been, for the last 6 years.

She tries to remind herself of that. Nothing beats one of those moments when he popped up at her uni like those emotional homecoming videos. At least in one of them she cried like a baby.

“How good is this place anyway?” Raye then asks.

Eli smirks, glancing her way. “Local pride. They do fried stuff and wraps. Run by a few guys I know. You remember Fixer, that guy from the cyber club in high school? My guy’s the line cook. That guy can cook.” Somehow he can feel he's about to ramble off though, and it's gonna be less helpful than the last thing said. He's just fanboying. “They’re good. Really good. No approval from Abuela, but Vau’s is my favorite.”

“And you're telling me just now,” Raye deadpans, betrayed as ever that Eli’s been keeping this from her for a while. But as any other person who gets to guiltlessly think about greasy fast food, she’s down for it. “Right-o. Let's see if this could top Panda Express.”

“Different category, but yeah, okay. I think you'll find it great.”

Raye finds Eli's optimism uplifting. And out of place—considering he's a Marine. Uni may not be as harsh as his unit deployment program—UDP—and the occasional local paranormal shit they go through, but she's happy that he's happy. Mainly because they get to spend summer break together. Family time, casual catching up, the banter and the bullying. So; sometimes it's enough.

And no, Raye has never heard of Vau’s. She's been living away in Austin with Riyo, the distant family on Dad's side, before she moved back home for college. So a local chain where every neighborhood is crowded with McDonald's and Taco Bell and a few other variations is a foreign concept. But she admires the entrepreneurship spirit. Definitely a family business. A touch near what's defined as gas station food.

Eli drives the car into the lot. The exterior looks nearly hauntingly similar to the other black and red franchise, but more black and more yellow. Neon signs. It's actually cute. And it's got a hecking drive-thru. What kind of family-run food chain invested in a drive-thru? It's clever. It's really up competing against other drive-thrus.

“Oh, looks packed,” Eli muses, scanning around the lot and clocking cars and bikes alike. He punches through the empty lane and gets his side of the window open as they reach the speaker, excitedly grinning all the way through like a child in a way that creeps Raye out and makes her want to smack it off his face.

“Welcome to Vau's, can I take your order?” 

Raye is keeping herself from jumping out of her seat because okay, look, a man's voice that deep was something she would never expect coming out from a drive thru speaker. Fair, because everything's been light and polite. This one's fucking robust and probably ready to grab you through the damn thing.

Eli snorts into his hand. “One extra large of your sass for the day, Sev.”

A pause. Then; a hard, exaggerated sigh. It seems like the guy on the other end makes sure the sigh gets through.

“You again, Estrada?”

“Bro, what do you mean you again Estrada, huh? Gone seven months and that's quite a cheerful greeting you got there for me, bro.”

“And you're still alive?”

Eli rolls his eyes dramatically—rolling his neck and all—and peers Raye’s way, jabbing a thumb toward the speaker. “Get a load of this guy,” he chuckles, “That's Sev. One of the guys. Fixer's brother.”

Raye is still comprehending it all.

“Need you to squawk your order now ‘cause you're holding the line, Estrada.”

Almost as if they're twins, both siblings turn their backs. Empty lane.

“Ain't nobody behind us, man, chill out,” Eli says, still with the same shit eating grin.

“Yeah, but I wanna be done with you. Preferably face to face.” Sev’s already gruff tone is almost scolding, but given Eli's sugar-high expression not dissolving any time soon, Raye can tell they obviously go way back. It's a wonder she hadn't met them before. “Got ghost stories to show the class, Staff Sergeant?”

“Hell yeah. It's Camp Schwab. ‘Course I've got some, man.”

“Neat,” Sev says, not missing a beat. “You not coming in?”

Eli sighs sadly—loudly. “Nah I’m getting my usual wrap and fries and go to nap till next week.”

“Makes two of us. One double chili chicken wrap and fries. Coke?”

“Yeah, please. Large fries. Actually—do half and half with the onion rings. Large, that. And Coke. Hold on for a sec.” Eli nudges her with his elbow gently. “Ay, Raye. Whatchu getting?”

She leans across the console plus Eli himself to get a good look at the menu panels, chocolate-toned hair already threatening to escape the hair clip atop her head. And Eli's right. Those wraps and fried sides are actually looking solid. And they've got cream soup, too. Package cream soup, most likely, but still; her favorite. Extra coleslaw, extra cheese dip, extra everything sauce on paid request. Her jaw aches, and her stomach suddenly feels empty.

“Uh,” Raye says loudly, “Number four with Dr Pepper please. Half and half of fries and rings, too. And extra coleslaw, ple—wait a sec.” She turns to Eli. “Is their coleslaw shitty?”

Her brother shakes his head. “Nope. All good. You'll love it.”

“Okay,” she says, leaning over again. “And extra coleslaw, please.”

“One number four; double fish nuggets wrap, medium fries and rings, Dr Pepper. Extra coleslaw. Did I get you right?”

“Yep.”

A moment of pause. “And this is the female Estrada offspring?”

Raye’s mouth falls agape. “That's an uncommon way of saying ‘sister’, man.”

“And you speak like him. Now there's two of you,” Sev complains.

She actually takes that personally, but she laughs it off—it’ll maybe turn into somewhat a medal of honor in the future. “Y’know,” she remarks, “Strange we haven't met before.”

“Elio stored dirty secrets. And I don't do introductions through a goddamn drive-thru speaker.” Because it's rude, right? Should involve a handshake or a fist bump or something. “Can I get you anything else, Estradas?”

Eli gives her a look like he's giving her a final out. “You sure about double wraps? It's bigger than the ones at McDonald's.”

“I'm starving, Eli.”

“Just as I hoped,” he grins maniacally before turning back to the speaker. “Nah man, that's it. Have a good day, bro!” And with that, he drives off to the payment post at a relatively slow speed. Raye slams back down in her seat, not bothering to put the seat belt back on, sighing.

“God, he's rude.”

“He's crude,” Eli corrects, finger jabbing toward the ceiling. “Among his brothers. But overall he's nice.”

Raye frowns hard. “Nice—?”

“He was a scout sniper. Same company that I'm in,” Eli explains. The air around them suddenly changes. A bit of northern hemisphere summer heat since he keeps his window open, and a bit of bleakness element of a military story that they know how it ends. “Honorably discharged. Fell on a deployment and permanently injured his leg. In the same year they decided to shut the school down and graduate the last Marine snipers, back in 2023.” He huffs, almost mourning. “Sucks. But he's living through it.”

Raye glances downward, her toes wiggling absently in her sliders. “And the leg?”

“Military-grade leg brace. Top shelf shit. Or at least, by Marine standards. Daddy’s a high-ranking officer, so he's got favors.”

“The dad?” Raye exclaims, “The guy who owns this place?”

They've reached the payment post, and Eli makes a quick swipe of his card to have it done. “The one and only,” he says, neatly placing the card back into his wallet and tossing it onto the console. “Walon’s a no nonsense guy, but he loves his kids. Met him a couple of times in Lejeune. MARSOC officer.”

“Wow,” Raye awes. Having a Marine brother got her into military structures along with its abbreviations and lingo. Big brain picks up easily. MARSOC is the specops command. That makes that these guys are raised with utter discipline. And maybe with dark humor and occasional shenanigans as a way to cope, as well.

Raye is expecting no more surprises when pulling up to the pickup window—at least not someone that Eli knows, like the guy at the payment post that's clearly someone he doesn't know.

Yeah. No.

This one guy looks like that one who would blow air horns and pop at least three confettis upon entry and play Xenogenesis outro when he's gonna bail.

He claps loudly. “Well well, look who it is.” Guy rocks this shit eating grin that eerily reminds her of her own brother when he's pulling the most horrendous prank in his teens and wide mohawk with fades that haven't been clipped for two weeks. “Made it back from Schwab in one piece with no single spooked bone in his body. I think you owe us one of those new stories, Eli!”

“Scorch.” They shake each other's forearms with a dull clap, Eli's grin matching the other guy's. “Stories next time, baby. Cross my heart.”

“Holding onto your word,” he nods triumphantly. It takes him another second to notice Raye's presence hovering over the console with a curious eyebrow-raise. His amber brown eyes are shining. “Hey, there. I'm Scorch.” He extends out a hand, leaning past the window and far down to reach her. “Sev mentioned that Staff Sergeant Goofball here brought the sister along. Nice to finally meet ya.”

She snorts at the nickname. “Yeah, same. I'm Raye.” She shakes his hand, pulling a tight smile. “Finally, right? Weird he hadn't introduced you lot yet back then. Honestly it feels sucky.”

“Ay, I'm right here,” Eli complains, “You were in Austin back then.”

“Sshhh…” Scorch, still leaning over the window, presses a finger against Eli's lips. “You have the right to remain silent,” he whispers dramatically.

Raye shakes her head, her laughter muffled poorly. “Yo your bromance is grossing me out already.”

“Ay, Raye. Mouth filters, por favor,” Eli chastises, slapping Scorch away from the car interior. Then he seems to be stunned, Raye is unable to see the way both his eyebrows scrunched as he scrutinizes the printed sheet of paper taped on the window. “Scorch.”

“Hm?”

Eli nods in its direction. “That new?”

“Oh, this?” Scorch leans over to make sure that the active Marine is talking about the vacancy notice that he printed at 4 AM yesterday—he was so immersed in Galactic Contention that he forgot. “Yeah. We need a new guy. Last one quit because she couldn't handle Sev's asshole attitude, can you believe that?”

“Sev? Asshole?” Eli snorts. “Sounds like something that came out of fucking Oxford dictionary.” Raye rolls her eyes. So much for not cursing too much. “Word and definition, side by side. Can't blame her.”

“Unable to maintain the workplace harmony and stuff. Couldn't get along. Beef every day with either Fixer or Sev. Boss wanted to fire right away, but Addy had us wait. And she waltzed out on her own! Never mind those. She never made it to the employee of the month board anyway.”

And then there's silence. Raye finds it odd since she has just discovered that Scorch is the guy who Eli gets along the most with—both being chatterboxes—and she can almost hear the gears inside her brother's head turn.

“Raye,” Eli then says, jabbing a thumb not at Scorch but in the general direction of the fast food place. “You… wanna?”

Raye blinks. “Me? Working at Vau’s?”

“Yeah, I mean you're on summer break, you need something to do.” Eli seems to be past critical decision-making already. A generally good brother. Enough bullying, enough fighting, enough thinking about her, watching her back as needed. He's always thoughtful when it comes about her. But this time it's around his friends—friends he trusts. “That's easy and open opportunity for you to get out of the house.”

Scorch hums in agreement. “I can talk to Boss, if you want. And hey.” He subtly points at her, a kind smile lifting his lips. “Relative to a fellow Marine—that’s standard. Honor and stuff. Our dad's a Marine. And the Estradas have always been good friends with us—family friends. We need someone we can trust that won't beef with any of us, and we can make it all smooth for ya.”

Smooth path, indeed. “I'll see about that beef,” Raye smirks, plopping back down to her seat to find something for her back. It's getting sore.

“Oh you'll love us,” Scorch winks. “Just don't touch Sev. He's got his own lady friend already.”

“Damn. Your brother still gettin’ it goin’ with Paisley Jettster?”

“Yep. In their own world.”

“Holy shit. The balls. The competition’s heiress.”

Scorch shrugs one shoulder. “Eh, he's crazy like that. Not new. And because of that; she's just as crazy.” He then slaps his palms loudly onto the counter, once again his smile morphs into a massive grin. “So? Raye? Whatcha think? I'll see you sooner than I thought in our fast food pride and joy?”

She's starving. The answer to that question has to be placed in the back burner. But honestly… it's tempting. “Yeah okay, I'll think about it.”

“Oh come on, you already did,” Eli teases.

“Just drop by when you're actually done thinking. I'll tell Boss so he'd know,” Scorch says. Suddenly he scrambles around, reaching off to the side for two paper bags. “Also here's your food. Damn. Almost forgot with the catch-up. Now piss off Elio, you're holding the line! Enjoy your wraps!”

They're holding the line alright because there are two cars behind them. After a stressful round of see you later alligator and its many sequels, Eli skids out of the lane and into the main street, releasing the biggest sigh of relief from the deepest caverns of his empty stomach. Raye reaches into the bag for the modest-sized packet for the fried sides, and totally not disappointed at the dominant peppery notes that stick to both fries and rings after she pops each into her mouth, one after the other.

“So what do you think?” Eli asks after a while, eyes on the road, keeping his hands respectfully to himself and not snagging her fries.

Now enjoying one of her fish nugget wraps—the apparently homemade coleslaw dressing tastes like heaven by the way—Raye watches the lines of houses in the neighborhood blurring by. “Yeah you're right,” she decides, “I think I'm in.”

At least Scorch is nice, so she'd try to bond with that one first. Sev is kinda spicy. She doesn't remember anything about Fixer aside that he stopped by in their house at least once for group homework with Eli, and she had zip idea about Boss. The other employees would either care or don't.

Eli glances at her twice in a quick succession. “Good! Good for you. They're nice and I trust them, y'know? You'll like them.”

He offers a fist bump, which she accepts. Eli smiles every damn day, but Raye knows which one is the you're gonna regret freeing me of my enclosure smile and a very, very proud smile.

“Also,” he clears his throat, “Also actually I'm asking your opinion about the fries. Good, yeah?”

Raye, laughing, swats his arm playfully. “Yeah.” She'd definitely see the Vau brothers again pretty soon. “Yeah, this is all nice.”

A/N: BAM SURPRISE DELTA LONGFIC WITH NEW OCS. This idea has been running around my head for a while. I'd like to thank Carbon for hyping me up to keep writing, and for accepting the collab invitation too, really (I'M SO HAPPY 😆💛). If you haven't checked her amazing art yet (how could you?!), she's @carbon-corrie! The header will be changed soon when the main art piece by the artist herself drops during Delta Squad Week, so keep an eye out for that and for an edit reblog! 💛

As usual I'm starting a taglist for every chapter update. O potentially interested ones, please let me know to join! @hellfiresky @gh0st-c0mpany @pichiflu-draws @leiopython-rat @mutilatemyheart @alor-ika @leafdupe

[wfanfic56]

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.

[inmyloveworld]

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.

[techdirectarchive]

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…

[realharrisonarmorypatriot]

XIII▸ Callsign Patriot! I hadn't expected to cross paths with someone I recognised from service in my time on the omninet :} It's good to have a fellow soldier to talk to, considering Union's asked me to show up more on this account.

XIII▸ We've crossed paths before; Callsign Cicatrice, or Project XIII-E. I served as Medical staff/Mechanic on a shared deployment with you, a while back. Due to a handful of events I won't bore you with, I've been tasked with running this account, and keeping up contact with people outside my current assigned squad.

XIII▸ If it wouldn't be any trouble, I might chip in every so often with another point of view on what our work on the Purview really looks like. A window into what we do for people, for the good folk out there on the omni-dot-net :} Give another side to the story, all that good stuff.

XIII▸ Regardless, it's great to see a familiar name crop up out here. You need anything from me, I'll be here. Whenever I'm not needed on the field, of course haha

[ XIII-E // @xiii-e ]

Oh, 13e! I haven't seen you since Arkady II, how are you holding up?

I was not made aware of any other accounts run by Harrison Armory personnel, so it's a pleasant surprise to see you here. You kept us running back there, especially me since Hand That Feeds was taking most of the hits. Always love seeing a Lancaster out on the field.

It's absolutely no trouble at all if you want to pitch in on some posts. It seems like you're generally better received than I am so far. I'm not surprised, though, you always were a pleasure to have on the squad.

If you need anything, drop a line and I'll see what I can do. I do think both of us are posting from the front lines, though, so both of us are pretty limited in what we can tangibly manage. I'd bet we'll just be becoming moral support for each other on the "omni-dot-net."

[thegigilwriter]

9.5 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary: 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Romance, Fluff

9.5 | Home 🌻

August 6, 2023

“Hmmm, Bradley that tickles!ˮ Lucy laughed as her boyfriendʼs mustache brushed lightly against neck while he bent down to embrace her from behind. Lucyʼs fingers were occupied, stuffing the dumpling wrappers with filling and rolling them expertly into logs. They were together in her apartment. Lucy clad in some old denim shorts, an UMI shirt, and her fluffy slippers; and Bradley in his gray sweatpants and Navy top. Shards of afternoon light streamed in from her windows and Sun-catchers, bringing a hazy, lazy atmosphere into the space.

“Why does he look so angry?ˮ Bradley asked her, his eyes caught in the commotion of the show on Lucyʼs MacBook.

“Oh thatʼs Bates heʼs a valet,ˮ Lucy replied. “Heʼs mad because Mrs. Hughes, the head maid, wonʼt tell him that his wife, Anna, had been raped by another valet belonging to another house.ˮ

“Why wonʼt she tell him?ˮ

“Because heʼll kill the valet, and Anna doesnʼt want her husband back in jail.ˮ Lucy replied nonchalantly.

“Thatʼs understandable,ˮ Bradley hummed. “Iʼd probably kill the son-of-a-bitch too.ˮ

“You wouldnʼt,ˮ she breathed facing him. “Because you would leave her all alone.ˮ

“Angel,ˮ he whispered. “If anyone did something that unforgivable to you, I would hunt them to down to the ends of the earth, push him off of it, and nobody would know.ˮ

“Youʼre just saying that because youʼre so glad to be home,ˮ Lucy giggled, reaching up to kiss his scarred cheek.

“Maybe,ˮ Bradley grinned with a dark glint in his eyes. “But Iʼm also deadly serious.ˮ

“Bradley, I would much rather have you over my justice.ˮ “And over your peace?ˮ

“You are my peace,ˮ Lucy said to him softly.

They stayed there for a while, in their own little pocket of quiet and domesticity. When Lucy had wiped her oily fingers clean, Bradley turned her around and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. He stared into her sweet, caramel orbs for a considerable amount of time before leaning down to kiss her lips. He cupped her cheek lovingly.

“And you are mine,ˮ he whispered.

The moment Bradley had shown interest in Mr. Bates, Lucy commenced Downtown Abbey from season one. Which brings them to post-dinner cuddles on her couch, sharing a pint of napoleon ice cream, as well as hearty commentary.

“Is she always that smug?ˮ Bradley remarked observing Lady Mary as she briefly brushed shoulders with Matthew Crawley, passing by him with a subtle smirk.

“Sheʼs beautiful and she knows it,ˮ Lucy sighed. “A woman who knows that is one to be reckoned with.ˮ

“Oh I know,ˮ Bradley muttered. “They can go either way.ˮ

“What do you mean by that?ˮ Lucy asked him curiously, indulging herself to another spoon of ice cream.

“Angel,ˮ he breathed. “Iʼm going to say something that you might find a little discomforting and... Iʼd rather you to hear it from me than somebody else.ˮ

Lucy nodded, urging Bradleyʼs reply.

“‘My past relationships... werenʼt exactly serious,ˮ he sighed. “I hooked up with women in the service and I didnʼt really want to be tied down. I know that talking shit about exes can be a red flag... but thereʼs at least one of them you should know about.ˮ

“Why? What did she do?ˮ Lucy narrowed her eyes perplexedly.

“Sheʼd chew me out and take me back, it was really... a cycle of drama.” Bradley told her. “And as it turned out, I did not know this by the way, she was with a fellow pilot while she was also with me,ˮ he shook his head. “She said that she was about to break it off with him to be with me, when I ‘broke’ up with up her first. She nearly got me grounded for misconduct. And she was able to do that because she also had one of the higher-ups wrapped around her finger.ˮ

Lucy whistled.

“I know,ˮ Bradley chuckled, reaching for her small hand and holding it in his. “I kinda learned my lesson since then.ˮ

“Iʼm sure you have,ˮ she chuckled in return.

Bradley laughed.

“Are you in any way... upset?ˮ He squeezed her fingers lightly.

“That depends.ˮ

“On what?ˮ

“Are you... in a serious relationship, now?ˮ

Bradley reached for her hand and kissed them tenderly.

“Angel, Iʼm also telling you all this in case you run into her — and where weʼre going, if youʼll let me, there is a high chance of that.ˮ

Lucy cocked her head questioningly.

“I wanna take you to the Hard Deck,ˮ Bradley smiled. “I wanna show you off to my friends and people I consider family. I wanna let them know that Iʼm serious about you — and how lucky I am. Letʼs get official, baby.ˮ

“Letʼs,ˮ Lucy grinned, reaching to caress his scarred cheek and tasting the chocolate on his lips.

I hope you enjoy reading the next chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. A past, dramatic situationship? How will Jake and Lucy’s prior meeting play into her first Hard Deck visit? On to the next at 10 | The Hard Deck!

[cinderswife]

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

[antis0cial23]

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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