#Naval Cooperation

[awesome-casuallyfamouscollector]

USS Roosevelt (DDG-80), an Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer, Riga, Latvia, August 6, 2023. Source: U.S. Embassy Riga

The USS Roosevelt (DDG-80) has been patrolling the Baltic Sea with NATO Allies to underscore the strength and interoperability of the Alliance.

[wonder-worker]

Didn't edward iv leave his brother Richard in lots of financial difficulties though?

No, he did not. I really don't know where this myth has originated from other than the persistent need to victimize Richard.

Firstly, Edward IV didn't leave Richard anything. Whatever he left was for his own son and heir, Richard's nephew, who Richard usurped.

Secondly, Edward IV was literally one of the rare few medieval kings of England to die solvent. He had managed to break the vicious cycle of plummeting debt and inefficiency that had plagued pretty much every single ruler till then. It doesn't really matter how much money the crown actually had left at the time of his death*, because the fact that he died solvent meant that whoever his successor was (in this case, Richard III), they were going to begin their reign with a financial advantage that no English monarch had enjoyed for the past 200 years. I don't know Richard's fans have convinced themselves that he inherited financial difficulties instead.

As stated by David Horspool, Richard's own historian:

"(Richard III) would try to differentiate himself from his brother, whose ‘unlawful invencions and inordinate covetise, ayenst the lawe of this roialme’ he would later denounce in an Act of Parliament. In fact Edward had managed to set royal finances back on an even keel after the disastrous waste and inefficiency of Henry VI (and all former kings post Henry II), Richard was, initially, the beneficiary of the better practise instituted by Edward IV.”

(The contemporary Croyland Chronicle mentions a main reason that Richard was better prepared to defend his kingship was "because of the treasure which he had in hand—since what King Edward had left behind had not yet all been consumed". They may have exaggerated the money Edward left behind, but either way it shows how contemporaries were aware of Richard's comparative advantages. It's highly ironic that what should have been used to uphold Edward's son was now being used to uphold his son's usurper instead).

Thirdly, Edward IV had presided over a highly effective and innovative combination of financial policies. These included the elevation/increase of royal chamber finance, the enlargement of the crown lands (Steven Gunn calls it "the most extensive royal demesne in medieval English History"), and an increase in royal feudal rights towards the end of his reign, among others**. Most importantly of all, he was actually successful, meaning that whoever followed him would have the huge benefit of having his established and well-attested precedent to continue from. Indeed, Charles Ross has noted how "Henry VII had the great advantage of being able to build upon the foundations laid by his father-in-law". Richard III, who seized the throne just a few months later, would have had the same advantages, as Horspool also notes.

Richard III, in fact, seems to have (temporarily) reversed some of his brother's well-established policies which could be used to gain money. Eg: he abolished benevolences; and he repealed Edward IV's newly established wardships and marriages act in the Duchy of Lancaster "notwithstanding that he conceiveth the said act to be to his great profit … having more affection to the common weal of this his realm and of his subjects than to his own singular profit". If you deliberately reverse policies with immense potential for revenue-raising, I don't know how you can then go on to complain that your brother left you nothing.

In conclusion: no, Edward IV did not leave Richard in financial difficulties. If anything, he left Richard with financial advantages that no king had had in over 200 years.

(Also, just to clarify: the Woodvilles did not steal the treasury. We know for a fact that Elizabeth Woodville did not have any money in sanctuary. The story of a theft was only mentioned by Mancini and either originated in gossip or, more likely, from Ricardian propaganda aiming to vilify them in 1483 by positioning them against the crown.)

*We know for a fact that Edward IV died solvent, but from what I understand, the exact money he had is impossible to know because of his missing chamber records. Contemporaries like Croyland did believe he had substantial money and treasure; on the other hand, Rosemary Horrox has analyzed how his cash reserves were probably relatively low due to international conflicts the previous two years. Either way, like I said, the main thing is that he was the first king in over 200 years to die solvent, which was massively advantageous to his successor. **While his policies were clearly innovative, they weren't all completely original. However, their combination certainly was; they were modified to actually work better; and they were initiated from the beginning of his first/second reign and widespread across the royal lands (rather than in smaller pockets), meaning that they were clear systematic policies. They were also, like I mentioned, actually successful - meaning that they would be the proven precedent that his successors would turn to.

[wizardsoup]

i think going to grad school for boat actually may have been a dastardly move for me bc now i find myself caring Way Too Much for the "dapper fictional guy who's really way too into esoteric bullshit no one cares about" archetype

[scorebetter]

Varuna 2023: INDIA FRANCE NAVAL EXERCISE

Varuna 2023: On the Western Seaboard, the 21st iteration of the India-France bilateral naval exercise Varuna got underway on January 16. Although the two navies' joint exercise began in 1993, it was given the name "VARUNA" in 2001 and has since grown to r

Varuna 2023: On the Western Seaboard, the 21st iteration of the India-France bilateral naval exercise Varuna got underway on January 16. Although the two navies’ joint exercise began in 1993, it was given the name “VARUNA” in 2001 and has since grown to represent the two countries’ strategic bilateral cooperation. Varuna 2023: Important Points The 1993-founded bilateral exercise was renamed…

[sayruq]

The Jerusalem Post said the maritime corridor plan was Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s idea, citing an unnamed “senior diplomatic source.” Netanyahu had reportedly first proposed the plan to Biden in October, and pressed the issue again with the US president in January.“ This source, close to the prime minister, insinuated that Biden was simply implementing a plan by Netanyahu, not actually initiating anything new,” the Post reported. While touring Gaza’s coast in a naval vessel on Sunday, Israeli defense minister Yoav Gallant expressed enthusiasm about the plans of a maritime corridor. “The process is designed to bring aid directly to the residents and thus continue the collapse of Hamas’s rule in Gaza,” he said.

But why would Israel, the engineer of the Gaza famine, endorse the idea of establishing a maritime corridor for aid to address a crisis it initiated and is now worsening? This might appear paradoxical if one were to assume that the primary aim of the maritime corridor is to deliver aid.Palestinians in Gaza received the news about the planned port with fear and suspicion. Analysts have speculated that this could be a ploy to eliminate Egypt as an outlet between the Gaza Strip and the rest of the world, and sever the coastal enclave’s reliance on Egypt economically and politically by way of the Egyptian-controlled Rafah crossing – the sole point of exit and entry for most people in Gaza. This would ostensibly complete Israel’s control of the Gaza Strip without dependence on Egyptian cooperation, reliable as it may have been. Abdel Bari Atwan, a Gaza-born world-renowned Palestinian journalist, invoked the US-facilitated evacuation of thousands of Palestinian guerilla fighters of the Palestine Liberation Organization from Beirut in 1982 as an insight into what these plans could possibly suggest. Palestinian fighters were transferred by US warships off the Beirut coast to Cyprus and eventually to Tunisia. Atwan indicated that the maritime corridor would create a pathway for the forcible evacuation of Palestinians by sea. Other analysts have expressed similar fears.

Michael Fakhri, the UN special rapporteur on the right to food, slammed what he called “absurd” US plans for getting aid into Gaza, whether through airdrops or the temporary port. “From a humanitarian perspective, from an international perspective, from a human rights perspective, it is absurd in a dark, cynical way,” he said. Human rights groups have dismissed announcements of building a temporary pier as a distraction from Israel’s systemic and deliberate policy of starvation of Palestinians in Gaza. “The proposed maritime humanitarian corridor and temporary seaport is another tool to weaponize aid,” the Palestinian refugee advocacy group Badil said. It is meant to “absolve Israel of its responsibilities and obligations, and support Israel in its ‘day after plans’: to eliminate and replace UNRWA [the UN agency for Palestine refugees] and establish a potential mechanism for Palestinian forcible transfer out of the Gaza Strip.”

[hederasgarden]

Sweet Surrender

Summary: Jake’s given and taken orders a hundred times throughout his career but nothing compares to the moment he realizes you liked it.  Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader Word Count: 2.1K Rating: 18+ only. Sexual content. Authority and sir kink, praise kink and Hangman being a cocky asshole. A/N: Thank you @wildbornsiren and @whatblogisthis216 for beta'ing and @blue-aconite for the beautiful graphic. In the future I may write part 2 if my muses cooperate. Reblogs and comments feed the muse.

Masterlist ♡ Top Gun Masterlist

Jake doesn’t pay much attention when you’re first introduced with the rest of the eggheads from the Office of Naval Research. Another one of many civilian engineers working on the new plane he’s been assigned to test. You keep things professional and polite although he can tell you find him attractive. It’s written all over your face and demeanor. You’re not the only one, several of the other engineers can’t seem to string together a full sentence around him. 

You’re pretty, he can admit that much to himself, but a sweet face has never been enough on its own to hold his interest. Especially when he’s here to do a job, one he takes very seriously. The chance to be the first to fly the latest prototype jet isn’t an opportunity that comes up often. He volunteered immediately for the assignment when it came up, beating out most of his Top Gun class for the honor.

What he doesn’t bank on is having to sit through mind numbingly boring briefings and listen to the engineers argue anytime the tiniest adjustment is made. Most of his exposure to you is during these meetings but the first time you talk to him one on one is four weeks into the project.

That’s when he notices your particular….quirk. You’re following him out after the morning briefing, yammering away about the new wing design specs. He’s read your report in detail and already familiarized himself with the changes. 

All Jake wants is a moment of silence to mentally prepare himself for today's test but you keep talking. It doesn’t help that he’s got the beginning of a headache forming behind his eyes and you’re oblivious to his attempts to cut the conversation short.  

“I got it. I know how to fly a plane,” he tells you. 

“Lieutenant Seresin,” you start but he cuts you off with a look. 

“I’ve read your briefing packet, top to bottom. It was extremely thorough. If I have questions you’ll be the first person I ask. Scout’s honor,” he adds, giving you a sloppy half salute that seems to confuse you for a moment before you start talking again. 

“I just want to make sure-“ you begin and Jake sighs, annoyed.

“I got it.  Now go sit down,” he tells you curtly. 

You step back back, brows raised. Jake almost misses the way your pupils dilate and your lips part just so. 

"I'm sorry, Sir," you reply. "I..."You stammer and tug at the hem of your shirt before hurrying to take a seat. 

You watch him from behind the computer bank as he climbs into the cockpit and fiddles with the controls. He can feel you watching him as he puts his helmet on. It’s clear to him that you want his approval, even if you don’t realize it.

Fuck, that paired with the ‘sir’ and the delicious little waver in your voice spikes his interest. He waits until you’re practically squirming in your chair before he gives you a nod. Your response is immediate, shoulders dropping and the tense lines on your face easing. 

It’s not just that he makes you nervous, he’s seen that plenty of times before. No, this is different. Special. You liked it when he barked an order at you. 

–

Over the next few weeks, he watches you closely, taking note of your responses to everyone you interact with. It’s clear you crave praise from others, perking up under any compliment you receive and deflating under criticism. However, it’s your response to authority that interests him most. You’ve got a natural inclination to listen to orders but as far as Jake can tell he’s the only one who elicits that type of reaction from you.

Each encounter he has with you is a chance to test the theory he has. He catalogs the difference in your responses; when he’s softer in his requests versus an outright order. Jake sees how quickly you obey a demand to sit next to him at the next briefing, just so he can be close to you. The speed you produce a new report just for him is a powerful thing. He especially loves the way you blossom under his praise when he compliments changes you've made to improve performance.

You’re smart, undeterred when the men in the room try to speak over you. Even though you’re quiet-natured, you’re no pushover either.  He respects your determination and hard work.

The most telling moment is one afternoon when you’re loitering on the edge of the hanger as he finishes up his conversation with the flight chief. It’s clear you need to speak to him. The fact that you won’t interrupt him is just a bonus– something he knows from experience will translate well in the bedroom. 

“Come here,” he commands, crooking a finger at you. He doesn’t even have to raise his voice to have you scurrying to him. You touch your chest and fiddle with the locket you wear, twisting the thin gold chair around your index finger. Jake’s not sure if he’s just gotten better at clocking your reactions or you’re extra affected today but whatever the reason, he’s enjoying the show. 

“What do you need?” He asks. 

“For you to sign the report,” you tell him, opening the folder and pointing to the highlighted portion. 

When he takes the pen from you he makes sure to drag his fingertips over the back of your hand, watching for your reaction behind his aviators. The soft sound that passes your lips doesn't disappoint him. He thinks about what other sounds he could drag out of you. How he could get you desperate enough to beg him to fuck you. The way you’d sigh his name and -

“Sir?” Your soft voice snaps him out of his little daydream. You’re staring up at him expectantly. “I need my pen back, please.”

When he hands it back, you smile. It makes him long to pull you against him and kiss you breathless. To test out the limits of how well you’d listen to him but he knows he has to wait until the project is over. He’s not about to jeopardize either of your careers though as the weeks drag on he certainly finds himself fantasizing about that. 

You’ve caught him staring at during the morning briefings once or twice, his chin resting on steepled fingers. It’s always the same response from you, the double blink and glance away. Sometimes you’ll bite your lips and fiddle with the pencil, tapping it in rapid succession against the table. He can feel your eyes on him too and he has to repress a smirk. These morning briefings are starting to become his favorite part of the day. 

—

Two torturous months pass before the admiral visits and the project gets wrapped up. He has some innocent fun with you during that time, nothing overly mean, just enough to get you flustered and stoke the flame. His favorite form of foreplay.

The team celebrates at the Hard Deck. Alcohol flows freely and spirits are high. It turns out engineers partied harder than pilots. You only have a drink which bodes well for Jake. He needs you sober for this and wants a clear head of his own, nursing a single beer most of the night.

While he waits for an opportunity to get you alone he formulates how he wants to approach this. He doesn’t doubt his assessment. He’s rarely wrong about these things but it’s always possible you’re not completely aware of your quirk. If he embarrassed or frightened you all his waiting would be for nothing. 

After another hour or so he senses his chance. You head outside to take a quick call and Jake follows. He waits at a safe distance to give you some privacy but once you slide the phone back into your jacket he makes his presence known. 

“Lieutenant Seresin,” you greet. You look surprised to see him but pleased too. 

“It’s Jake,” he corrects, stepping toward you. 

When he presses into your space you take a half step back and then another, letting him herd you into a little alcove out of sight. You watch him curiously, maybe even a little confused. You’re not scared to be alone with him —you trust him.  

“What’s up?” You’re trying for casual but failing adorably. 

Jake’s close enough to touch you, but refrains from it. He won’t until he has your permission and understanding. He smirks and tits his head. A direct approach might be quicker but he’s curious if you’ll figure it out on your own.

 “I know your secret, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

That gets you going. You don’t seem to know where to put your hands. Nervous laughter comes next but Jake stays quiet, letting you squirm a little longer. 

“My secret?” You question. 

“It’s compatible with mine,” he hints. 

You frown, forehead wrinkling. He recognizes the expression from countless morning briefings when you were contemplating a problem. It’s cute watching your brain work in real-time to put the pieces together.  A full minute passes before your eyes dart back to his face, surprised.

He nods encouragingly and then very hesitantly you say, “Is that so, sir?”

There’s a heavy emphasis on the last word. 

“Smart girl,” he praises. 

You grin and rock back on your heels. “Well, I did design the aircraft you’ve been flying the last four months,” you shoot back. 

He can see the struggle it is for you not to smile. You’re proud of your work and should be but he can’t have you mouthing off already. 

“Don’t get smart with me,” he warns playfully, loving the way you immediately duck your head. 

“Sorry, sir.” 

You sound appropriately contrite and he smirks. 

“Look at me.” Two fingers under your chin encourage you to meet his gaze. “I want you to be honest,” he begins, watching carefully for any sign you’re not on the same page as him. “Do you want to do this?”

“Do you mean…you mean sex, right?” You ask, looking a little unsure. 

You’re so sweet that Jake slips character briefly to give you the soft smile you deserve. “Sex and more,” he confirms. “I can help you explore this side of yourself.”

“Yeah. I want that,” you tell him shyly. 

“That’s good to hear, but that’s not how you talk to me, and I think you know it.”

“I want you to teach me, sir,” you respond. 

“Better,” he praises.

He slides a hand up your jaw to grasp the back of your neck and angle your face upward so he can crush his lips against yours. He closes the distance between your bodies, pressing you back into the wall with a groan. You make a desperate little sound that goes right to his dick and grasp his biceps tightly. 

You part your lips and fuck, he’s finally tasting you fully like he’s been imagining. He loves how soft and warm you are in his arms and the way his lips slide against yours. All of his pent-up desire is out now. The hand at your hip slides down the curve of your ass to grasp your thigh so he can grind shamelessly against you. You whimper, nails pressing into his skin. He rocks his half-hard cock into the warmest part of you, needing more friction. He wants to hear you make that little sound again too. 

“Oh, please,” you gasp when you finally part. 

You sound wrecked and he thinks you look it too.The skin of your face is warm to the touch and your eyes are a little glassy. Jake's half convinced you might let him have you here and for a moment he actually considers it. He knows how good that kind of messy, quick fuck can be but tonight he wants to see all of you. To spend his time taking you apart until you’re incoherent and at his mercy. He can’t do that here. 

“Easy,” Jake whispers, running a hand down your back. “Look at me,” he instructs, smiling when you do. You’re trembling all over and he rubs his thumb over your swollen lips as he gazes down at you. “Catch your breath.”

Once you’re calm he lets go of you and runs a hand through his hair. You’re watching him, waiting to be told what to do. “Go inside, say goodbye to your friends. Then I want you to meet me out front. Got it?”

You nod and he surges forward to kiss you one more time before stepping back to let you past him. 

Fuck, tonight is going to be good he thought. 

♡

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[strictlyfavorites]

The naval intelligence officer who wrote this was Bill Cooper. I believe this excerpt is from the book "Behold A Pale Horse". He also predicted 9/11, and that the government would blame it on Osama Bin Laden, on his radio show in June of 2001. He was gunned down in front of his own home by "local law enforcement" officials in November of 2001. Isn't amazing how common coincidence is?

[mpreglover225]

[Exhibit Document from the Birth & Reproductive History Museum, Washington, D.C.: Excerpt from Dr. H. Farnsworth’s Private Journal, Dated August 9, 1944]

Patient Name: Mr. Thomas Cooper Spouse: Captain Leonard Cooper, United States Navy Date of Delivery: August 8, 1944 Labor Duration: Approximately 48 hours Birth Outcome: Healthy male infant, 10 pounds, unmedicated natural delivery Immediate Postpartum Notes: Initiation of moobfeeding

Notes on Delivery and Postpartum (By Dr. H. Farnsworth)

The final phase of Mr. Cooper’s pregnancy culminated in an intensive two-day labor at our clinic. Throughout the protracted labor, he declined pharmacologic pain relief, citing his strong personal conviction in a fully natural birthing process. Progress was slow yet consistent: cervical dilation advanced steadily, and fetal heart tones remained robust, even as Mr. Cooper’s contractions intensified in both frequency and duration.

Captain Leonard Cooper arrived in the latter stage of labor, having been granted emergency leave from his naval command. His presence appeared to buoy Mr. Cooper’s morale significantly. Despite extreme fatigue, Mr. Cooper exhibited unwavering fortitude when bearing down, spurred by his husband’s encouragement and the attentive aid of the nursing staff.

The newborn presented with a notably large frame (10 pounds) but in optimal position, allowing for a safe, albeit strenuous, delivery. Mr. Cooper’s pushing phase was lengthy, compounded by the infant’s size; however, he managed to deliver without any medical interventions beyond standard warm compresses for perineal support. Following an initial cry and brief examination, the infant was declared healthy, with commendable Apgar indicators.

Postpartum Condition and Moobfeeding Initiation

Upon delivery, Mr. Cooper—though visibly exhausted—expressed relief and elation, particularly once the infant was placed upon his chest. Per his request, we facilitated immediate skin-to-skin contact. Within the hour, Mr. Cooper initiated moobfeeding, which the infant latched onto effectively after a brief period of encouragement and guidance. This early feeding proved beneficial in promoting uterine contraction and bonding.

Mr. Cooper’s vital signs stabilized promptly post-birth, despite the prolonged labor. He displayed mild perineal swelling, yet no significant lacerations were identified. During routine observation overnight, Mr. Cooper required only cold compresses and rest to manage soreness. He continued moobfeeding on demand, approximately every two to three hours, which helped stimulate milk production and offered the infant consistent nourishment.

Captain Cooper remained at his husband’s bedside throughout the night, assisting with positioning the infant for moobfeeding and ensuring Mr. Cooper remained adequately hydrated. The close involvement of Captain Cooper evidently fostered a calm environment, allowing Mr. Cooper some respite between feedings. By morning, both father and child were reported to be resting comfortably, with moobfeeding well established and the infant producing satisfactory wet diapers.

Additional Observations

Mr. Cooper exemplified notable resolve under challenging circumstances, laboring unmedicated for a full 48-hour period. The infant’s weight (10 pounds) affirms our earlier assessments of a robust gestational course. It is our recommendation that Mr. Cooper maintain a nutrient-rich diet to support ongoing moobfeeding, and that he practice gentle perineal care to expedite full recovery.

The successful outcome of this birth, paired with the renewed presence of Captain Cooper after weeks at sea, underscores the profound impact of family unity on the birthing process. In an era shaped by wartime separation, the Coopers’ experience stands as a testament to resilience, partnership, and the efficacy of consistent prenatal care.

Signed, Dr. H. Farnsworth Obstetric & Reproductive Medicine Washington, D.C.

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Seventeen - Anger Issues

Part Sixteen

———

Prior to becoming a pilot, Harold Jackson, callsign Hound, had been an enlisted officer for the United States Army. It was all he had ever known really, his father had been in the army and they moved from base to base like any other military family. The housing was similar enough that each room felt like his own and life was always chaotic but simple. From coast to coast and in other countries, he was content with that life. 

The Quintessons attacked when he was still young, the first response was with military action, the Air Force and Navy, naval pilots were the first to scout the enomally off of Hawai’i. The aircraft carrier the USS Enterprise which had been in the North Arabian Sea on exercise with German, French, and British forces, was the first thing attacked by the foreign invader. When the first call from Hawai’i reached them, they redirected the course to provide assistance. It sustained too much damage to remain in operation but its nuclear reactor was safely removed before its decommission. It was one of ten aircraft carriers in the pacific and Indian oceans during that time, many sustain unrecoverable damages.

With the Cold War in active swing, it was difficult to initially adjust focus, but once they started to attack cities most powers were redirecting their focuses away from the arms race and into the mechanical suit race. Just another angle initially, which eventually turned into government cooperation.

Hound had enlisted at eighteen, understanding only some of what was happening and signing up for the compatibility testing after bootcamp. It was around that same time when Hound got married, though the wait for his mech suit was longer than his marriage. His father had signed up for the testing as well and was found non-compatible, he was medically discharged not long after. Hound knew how much it broke his father to not be compatible, both in spirit and body, he didn’t understand how hard the test was until he was in it. No one comes out the other side of compatibility the same person. 

His ex-wife lives in a “protected city” somewhere in Colorado, specifically away from coastal regions and major epicenters, near to a mech suit outpost for the marines. She was receiving housing and funding from Mecha on behalf of Hound to ensure her safety, her and his father, it’s one of the many reasons he agreed to head the Arcturus One mission. He may not love her and she may hate him, but he didn’t want to see her remains on the next cover report, hers or his fathers. It was hard not to care when the person used to be your best friend, no matter what they did to lose that place or what you did. 

—

Hound had fallen back asleep in command, tipped back in his chair while the others had talked, Megatron’s explanation dying off when his head began to droop. The lights in his cockpit were off, but he remained in his chair, leaning back comfortably enough. It was nice enough until a shrill voice woke him up, “Sir, Hound isn’t at camp.” Sideswipe was the most frustrating person to him at that very moment, groaning quietly as he tipped the chair back up, “That’s because he was here, discussing plans with us.” Megatron stood, now sober and feeling improved from last night. Hound took the moment to stretch and stand, “Sideswipe, I would suggest checking everywhere or comming me before jumping to conclusions.” He walks over and rests a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you for the concern though. Nodding some, Sideswipe sighs, “Breakdown woke us all up not knowing where you were,” “Breakdown?” It was almost hard to tell that Sideswipe looped sheepish, but the body language was easy enough to read, “He left medical this morning, to much protest from Knockout. I think the medic is still yelling at him for being a ‘big wreckless oaf’.” He chuckles and with a sigh, Hound nods to Megatron before heading out of command. 

Yelling was certainly one way of putting it, Knockout was shrieking at Breakdown who was now sitting near the heater, his head hanging down. Sighing, Hound jogged over, “Alright, enough. Why are you screaming, Doctor?” He moved and stood between them, “Breakdown won’t let me run a systems check, he says everything is fine but his arm is hardly attached.” Knockout rested his hands on his hips, jaw set. Sighing deeply, Hound nodded, “Because your systems will crash ours, I’m sorry if this is inconvenient but it's for his safety that he turns it down.” Raising a hand, Hound stops Knockout, “But, he is off duty until further notice. Once we’re back in Iacon we’ll finish repairs but he’ll be on the bench for a while.” Breakdown looked up, “What?” Hound really just wanted to hit his head against a wall, “We’re going to keep following typical standards, two weeks at least of light duty.” Now both of them were angry and it was draining. 

“Alright, enough!” Hound holds up his hands, “Knockout, if Breakdown were to stay in the medical tent until we return to Iacon, would that make you happy?” Knockout stopped and nodded, “Yes, of course.” “Hound,” Breakdown steps forward and Hound turns to him, “You should be resting regardless, your two weeks start now. Go lay down, that is in fact an order.” He could almost feel the bitterness rolling off of Breakdown, who turned away, “I swear, once we’ve returned to Iacon we can discuss this but until then, please just rest.” The cold shoulder was like a blizzard or arctic night. Sighing deeply, Hound moved to the others, shaking his head a bit, “If there is no attack today we should be returning to Iacon tonight.” “Thank god for that.” Sideswipe sank back down, rubbing his face, “I’ve got a great plan for something in the apartment.” Groaning, Sunstreaker shook his head, sitting back, “It’s too early for great plans.” “Yeah, well it’s too early to sneak off to talk to the guy who almost killed you.” Hound hits the heater, “Enough arguing! Enough. Just, spread out and take some time away from each other. Please. Let’s wait and see what the projection looks like before we try and kill each other.” He had a headache that was getting worse with every moment of arguing.

Slowly, Sunstreaker walked off, Sideswipe followed though at a distance. Breakdown was back to medical, and Jazz was sitting on the ground near the heater. Sighing, Hound joined him, rubbing his face, “How did you get used to working with other pilots? Or, mechs?” They were all, mostly, used to working solo. The suits were big enough to level a city block at times and more than one was hardly ever needed. Jazz chuckled slightly, “Well, I worked with Prowl solo for about the first six months or so. Not with other strong willed pilots, but still someone with experience.” Nodding a bit, Jazz leans back to stare at the sky, “I also didn’t have a unit of people from diverse backgrounds to command, all I had to do was adjust to one culture. I also didn’t have two pilots who had never been in the military to watch over,” the look almost makes Hound groan, “Their great pilots, but we both know that this is something that’ll take plans they aren’t used to and a lot more orders.” Also looking at the sky, Hound groaned, “I was worried you’d say that.” Jazz snorts, grinning, “Yeah well, you all have a lot of adjustments to make still.” With a hum, Hound threw his arm back over his eyes, still so tired. Yawning, he turns off the lights in his cockpit and turns down his visual feed, “Adjustments I'll start making, after I get some more sleep.” It didn’t take Hound long to fall back asleep, not long at all.

Jazz sat there, smiling a bit, “You’ve already made some Hound.” He glances over towards command where Red Alert and Mirage were talking, Mirage leaning against the wall comfortably, “You just can’t see it yet.” He smiles and moves to be able to watch their surroundings so his friend could sleep easier. Sometimes, the cluelessness of the other pilots drove him mad and sometimes he wondered if they were all just more nearsighted than they looked. 

—

Sunstreaker went and sat with Bluestreak, glancing back over his shoulder at Sideswipe who diverted to sit with a few other mechs, he breathed a sigh of relief. The other mecha sitting with Blue glanced at each other before standing, “Hey, we’re going to go eat. See ya Blue.” One patted him on the shoulder and the other gave him a thumbs up before heading off towards food, talking quietly to each other. Sunstreaker paused, frowning a bit, “Uh, sorry. I didn't mean to chase off your friends.” “What? Oh, no you’re fine!” Bluestreak leans forward some, smiling nervously, he clears his throat a bit, “They’ve been waiting for an excuse to get away.” Sunstreaker chuckled slightly, “I doubt that.” Bluestreak smiled and glanced over towards Sideswipe, frowning, “Look,” “We’re not going to talk about that here.’ Sunny rested his hand over Blue’s, visor brightening, “Later, so, um.” He clears his throat and pulls his hand back, glancing up and away, “Have you ever been to this planet before?” Bluestreak smiled, “Yeah, but it was just for a different fight.” He tries to wave it off, but Sunstreaker turns to him, “Tell me about it.” Bluestreak chuckles lightly, “Uh, why?” The smile couldn’t be kept from Sunstreaker’s face, “The longer I sit here and you don’t try to kill me, the more likely it’ll be that Sides will eventually forgive you.” “Oh.” Nodding slowly, Bluestreak frowned, “You or—humans, are very strange.” Sunstreaker laughed.

Shaking his head a bit, Sunstreaker rubs at his chest, “Oh Blue, you don’t know the half of it. So, what was the last fight here like for you?” Bluestreak’s face lit up, “Well it was back during the last war, primus, you would have thought we were insane back then. Fighting after the fall of the system we were fighting over,” Sunstreaker stares and chuckles slightly, “You really don’t know anything about Earth, do you?” Bluestreak looks at him and shakes his head a bit, “Uh, no, not really. Jazz doesn’t talk about it much and Prowl said to not bother him with it.” Nodding a bit, Sunstreaker shrugged slightly, “Well, I’ll tell you more about it after your story. So, this last war, you were here,” he prompts lightly, Bluestreak nods and starts talking, smiling brightly. Sunstreaker smiled and just listened, glad to listen to someone who wasn’t giving him orders or was his brother. 

—

The shuttle that evening was not sentient and Hound was still never sure to be relieved or not. It always took Sideswipe the longest to figure out if they were on a shuttle he knew personally or not, Sunstreaker always had the easiest time with it. For the moment, Breakdown was not speaking to Hound which was understandable, typically they were on equal footing but having to pull rank always left others feeling ruffled. Jazz was up towards the front talking with the pilot, but the entire shuttle was full of mechs. Each seat was filled and there was limited walking space since it was filled with the construction materials, plus the heaters. The twins were pretending to be asleep, really they were out of their chairs and talking over comms in English. Just because they had the translator doesn’t mean they wanted to use it all the time. 

Sitting back, Hound was almost asleep himself when the second ring of his comm drew his attention. He paused for a moment before adjusting his setting to answer, “Hello?” There was a brief sigh on the other side of the line, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to answer, most mechs answer as soon as it pings.” Mirage sounded like he was smiling, “You doing alright after last night?” Hound smiles a bit, “Yes, thank you for your concern Mirage.” He thought for a moment that that’s where the conversation would end, “I saw what happened this morning, uh, is that normal for you all?” Sighing, Hound scratches at his jaw and chuckles, “Kind of, pilots back home, we’re not used to working with other pilots.” 

“Why not?” Hound opened his mouth and stopped, tilting his head a bit before biting back a swear, “We’re spread out across the planet to protect as many civilians as we can. The five of us being in one place at once, it’s not typical and certainly not what we were trained for.” Mirage hums, “So, the tension is growing.” “Exactly.” Sighing, Hound rubbed his face, “Only ones who are used to working with each other are Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, and even then they only did when in the same region during an attack. Most of us had never worked together before this mission.” He swore he could hear a pin drop over that line before Mirage took a breath, “They sent you, on a death mission, with people who you’d never worked with?” Shaking his head a bit, Hound sighs, “No, not quite. For around six months, uh, half a stellar cycle, we were together preparing for this mission. Isolated together, mostly.” Mirage made an indignant noise. 

Chuckling lightly, Hound scratched at his jaw, “Don’t like that either, huh?” “I just don’t understand your people, redesigning and reprogramming you all for this.” Hound hummed, leaning his head back comfortably, “Someone has to do the work that no one else wants to do.” There was another long pause, before Mirage spoke up again, “Prowl says the same thing, Megatron says the same thing.” Grinning, he shrugged lightly, “There are some things that almost transcend culture.” Mirage hummed lightly, then cleared his throat, “So, we will be in Iacon by morning,” “Will we?” Hound’s internal clock was shot, both his internal clock and the one in his suit, Mirage’s smile was even evident through the comm, “Yes, and I understand you’ll want some time to rest and repair Breakdown of course, but I was wondering when we’d be able to have that, uh, talk.” It took him a second to remember what Mirage was talking about, “Oh, the one about where Breakdown is from?” Mirage and his pauses, “Yes,” Nodding a bit, Hound leaned forward and glanced over to Jazz, gesturing towards his head lightly.

It was several longer seconds of silence before the click of someone joining the comm came through, “Yo.” Hound leaned back, “Jazz, how much free time do you think we will have when we get to Iacon?” Jazz popped up in the corner of Hound’s visual feed, he responded with his own internal camera but ensuring both were kept from Mirage’s view, “Uh, I don’t know. Depends on how long Joan is in his meeting,” “Joan?” The confusion in Mirage’s voice almost made Hound double over, even as Jazz’s face turned dark with blush, “Hound! You could warn a mech when having them enter a comm,” Still laughing, Hound sits up and wipes at his eyes, “Sorry Jazz, Mirage and I were discussing when’s we would be able to meet up to talk about the Soviet Union, in turn I added you to ask what Prowl’s plan looked like. Mirage, Joan is what we’ve taken to call your boss over private comms. She was a figure not dissimilar to your Prime.” Both men sat in silence, as if waiting for the other to break it. 

Hound cleared his throat a bit, “Regardless, do you think a meeting with the Prime will be possible once we get there or will we have a while?” Jazz sighed and leaned forward, looking at Hound, “After we’ve had time to repair Breakdown, I think we’re going to have some time before we’ll get an audience with the Prime. Why?” He shifted a bit uncomfortably on his own seat, sitting back and away from Jazz’s prying eyes the best he could other than for the camera, “Well, Mirage wanted to learn a bit about the Iron Curtain,” “And other things about you— and Earth. Your planet seems so interesting.” Hound smiled a bit, “It is, or it can be.” Jazz was smirking, leaning back and shaking his head, “It’s almost cute how you all are skating around other mecha. Trying to make friends.” Mirage made a noise, and suddenly Hound wasn’t sure if Jazz was talking to him or Mirage. It took only a second for an answer, “Your species of mechanicals are so different from ours, your way of life, your relationships. None of you have mentioned being conjuxed and yet have split sparks, things that seem so familiar yet there are things that are… missing.” Hound cleared his throat a bit, “I’m sorry, the translator didn’t take to that word. What does being conjuxed mean?” Jazz stayed silent, though his hand was covering his mouth as he held back laughter and Mirage was painfully silent. 

After nearly a minute ticked by, Hound sighed, “Is it something incredibly private or?” Weak laughter filled the line, “No, Primus no, it’s just your translator makes you sound strange for some words when they don’t translate.” It was another second before Mirage sighed, “Conjux is short for Conjux Endura, it’s a committed relationship between two mecha, for the rest of your life.” Hound paused and nodded slowly, “So like being married.” “I suppose, though that is not translating either.” Hound chuckled slightly, “Marriage is a committed relationship between two, uh, mecha for the rest of your life. Unless you get divorced like I did.” Mirage made an ear piercing sound and Jazz choked, nearly shooting out of his seat while leaning forward, “What the hell?” “What?” There was a click for a moment, as Mirage left the comm, “What? What did I say?” Then there was another click as Jazz left for a second. He was left in the quiet for a moment before two clicks notified him that they were back on the line.

Jazz sat there, staring at him and shook his head, “No, no, I need you to say that without the translator on. That can’t be right.” Mirage was making the slightest of choking sounds still, so adjusting his setting Hound sighed, “I’m talking about my divorce Jazz.” Several seconds went by, “Oh, oh! I didn’t think that would translate like that.” He pauses, “Damn, uh,” There was a click and he went silent, then a second click as Mirage went silent as well. Setting his jaw, Hound leaned his head back and picked at his fingers. It wasn’t a topic he even remotely enjoyed talking about, two clicks showed they re-entered the comm line, “It is much more normal on Earth Mirage, it’s not a bad thing and certainly not.. that.” He could hear the mech breath out a sigh of relief, “You can understand my concern Jazz,” Mirage clears his throat, “I apologize Hound, your ‘divorce’ translates as something rather drastic in our language. Not a separation of legally binding relations.” Opening his mouth, Hound tried to say something before shaking his head, “You know what, I don’t want to know. My divorce isn’t anyone’s business but mine.” “Of course, I apologize.” Jazz hums lightly, “I knew some things would never translate but that was just something else. No word for divorce is nuts.” Nodding a bit, Hound folds his arms before sighing, “Yes, very odd.” It was uncomfortable, so Hound disconnects from the line, dimming his visor to ensure he wasn’t disturbed before deactivating his comm. 

No word for divorce and whatever it translated into seemed like murder, setting his jaw, he leaned back and closed his eyes. It wasn’t anyone’s business but his, no one needed to know he was divorced. Pausing, he sighed, he hadn’t set up the time to talk to Mirage about Earth properly. Sparing a glance towards where Breakdown was sitting, it would have to wait. His systems were shut down quickly so he was able to throw his arm over his eyes, removing the helmet and visor. Sometimes, the differences felt greater than they probably were. 

———

A/N

I think I am finally recovering from being sick, but we will see. Next part will hopefully be out Monday and I’ll actually get to that schedule that I was talking about before.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @dimencreasatlas @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @starscreamloverfr @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @blue-wrens @sirassban @astridkolch @cosmique-oddity

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU

[mellowwillowy]

𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜

4𝒌 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑪𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

"You've done well," your husband rubbed circles on the back of your hands as you stared into his emerald eyes hollowly, "you are a brave soul. Now, let's retreat ourselves to our deserved slumber, shall we?"

Why and how did it end up to this?

The ship was sinking, you could feel the ground shaking and yet no frantic screaming was heard. Your husband had a premonition, a disaster was about to happen and unfortunately enough, you overheard him confirming his suspicion with one of the naval's officials.

He did not expect you to slip out of the festive to find him sealing both his fate and yours, sinking down in the dark and cold ocean.

Naturally, you were filled with a sense of dread. You feared that he might be right, but you hoped against hope that he wasn't. You had heard the noise of the shaking ground and the crew's chaotic conversations, but you tried to stay calm.

"Then, could it be that the shake we felt earlier was...?"

Your husband immediately whisked you away from the dock, guiding you toward your supposed stateroom. There, he sat you down on the bed while he rummaged through his bag, fishing for a glass bottle of what you assumed to be your sleeping pills.

You were filled with uneasiness as the reality of the situation slowly dawned on you yet his emerald eyes eased you down as he circled the back of your hands. He lowered himself onto the ground on one knee, looked up at you, and spoke softly"Can you hear me, dear? Or is your heart thumping so loud to the point you can hear blood swirling in your eardrums?"

You gave him a meek node and he shushed you, his thumbs never stopped circling the back of your hands.

"I have just the perfect solution for this but I'd need your cooperation."

He held out the glass bottle for you to inspect. A plain white glass that was unmistakenly belonged to you.

"I'd need you to calm down and sleep for me. The moment you woke up, you'd be safe and sound again, I promise."

You shook your head at him, "Are you implying that I'd die in my sleep?"

Yulian gave you a gentle smile that reached his eyes, "As much as I fancy the idea of having my final rest with you in this stateroom, I'm afraid I'd rather rest with you every day for I am a man of avarice."

Yulian clasped off the lid of the glass bottle and poured out 4 pills for you to drink, "This, is the only cooperation I need from you."

"And what would you do while I snore peacefully in my sleep?" "I had secured a safe boat for both of us." "Then you shouldn't have me done this."

Yulian inched his face closer to yours, "While you do have a point, my dear, I'd rather not have you take in the sight of... humans' true nature. I'd rather not have your heart thumped in uncertainty as we lowered and waited for the rescue team to arrive,"

And he'd rather not let you drown in guilt from the fact that he had taken another woman's and children's spot just to secure the two of you.

The realization that your husband was willing to do anything to ensure your safety began to sink in. Although the knowledge brought a sense of relief, it also brought a wave of guilt as he predicted.

"The night is cold and cruel, it'll be very dark and hollow, far from the word comfort. I just wish my lily-of-the-valley won't have to feel how cruel it is... I won't leave you sunk in the ocean, I won't stop embracing your body, so would you please do your husband a favor?"

You could hear his pocket watch ticking, you could hear the subtle musical instruments being played somewhere, and you could hear your husband's heartbeat matching your pace.

You gave him another meek nod and he smiled in relief, pills poured onto your palm as he stood up to bring a glass of water over to you. You swallowed it down with scrunched eyes, waiting for the effects to take in.

Yulian lowered himself again, rubbing circles with his thumbs,

"You've done well," you stared into his emerald eyes hollowly, throat swallowing a lump of anxiety and horror, "you are a brave soul. Now, let's retreat ourselves to our deserved slumber, shall we?"

Yulian positioned you to sleep on the comfortable bed, the blanket covering your body as he sat on the edge of the bed, eyes observing you while his hand patted your blanketed figure.

"Can you lay down with me too, dear?"

His eyes widened at your request yet despite his initial reaction, he didn't seem to be opposed to the idea. He rounded his way onto the bed, sinking the mattress as a new weight laid on it.

You turned to his side and locked gaze with him, "Good night."

"Good night, dear." He pulled you closer into his embrace and waited for the time to finally strike through the chaos that would ensue soon. Bribery, threat, and backings. If the naval officials failed to let him walk on land, his relationship with one of the nation's most feared Mafia Ringleaders would show them the way.

That alone was enough to kill 2 innocent lives.

****

This has actually been sitting in my drafts since I first watched Titanic (which is last year. I'm re-writing this prompt because, yeehe! 4k celebration!)

[l-in-the-light]

Does Law hide himself and his emotions under his hat? 🤠

Yes, he does indeed. And he hides much more under his hat than just his emotions! Let's take a look:

Here, he pulls the brim of his hat lower to hide more of his face, especially eyes. It's widely speculated he was crying here or at least tearing up. I agree with that, mostly because this other scene seems to literally spell it out for us:

Look at his shirt :) Seems when Law is crying he wants to cover it up or hide somewhow, for no one to see. He's clearly not alright with being openly vulnerable, especially when it comes to showing his emotions.

If I would take a guess as to why, it's probably because crying makes him feel helpless and like there's nothing he can do (the whole Flevance wipeout and Law being unable to save anyone, not even his sister; being locked up in a chest and silenced by a spell during Cora-san's sacrifice; during both situations he cried a lot) that's why he tries to hide his face at least, to take a semblance of control, even if just to make sure the world doesn't see him crying. That being said, it's not a perfect explanation, because in his defeat on Winner Island he does not cry. So either he already accepted at that point that this will be the place where he dies (but why would he accept that, right? ;)), or my guess is wrong, welp.

It's not surprising that as the result of this habit of his we never see adult Law openly crying. Not when Mingo or Blackbeard beat up his ass, not when Luffy died in his fight with Kaido. The closest to crying is the scene with Sengoku up there, and also this one:

You can see tears forming in his eyes if you look closely.

But like I said, crying isn't the only thing Law hides. He actually doesn't express emotions much at all. Sadness, crying, honest smiles (Law's smiles is a curious subject deserving it's own study honestly lol), no expressions showing he's pleased, content etc. The only emotions he starts showing more openly is anger and worry, ever since he made that alliance with Luffy. It's not really uncommon for people with PTSD to mostly feel anger, it's kinda psychologically accurate.

He also hides his eyes under his hat when he's bluffing. Here, in raid on Onigashima, he claims he will do one of his surgery-type attacks, but two pages later he actually used Takt instead to throw huge boulders on Kaido :) part of the strategy.

His face is often obscured by his hat when he's hiding something or lying about something. "After sucking up the to the government you wouldn't screw it all up by making a mess now"... well, except that is exactly what Law was planning to do, he became a warlord just so he can waltz into the SAD room and destroy it and the story tells us this was literally the only reason why he wanted to be a warlord in the first place, lol.

Here, when he says everything is conducted "in secret to avoid naval attention", he's kinda selling Strawhats a half-lie. We know already that Doflamingo, the king of the underground, was supplying the Government with weapons. In other words, World Government knows about the underground deals, allows it and participates in them, when it suits their interests. That's also why Stussy, a CP0 agent, is also part of the underground. Morgans, our economic newspaper publisher, is also involved with underground and at the same time is cooperating with Government as well. So yeah, Government does know about those deals.

His eyes are hidden also when he takes the blame for what Luffy and Zoro did (yes, it's true he got exposed as well, but that's just the consequence of what Luffy and Zoro first did and only because he tried to cover up their tracks!).

And this "hiding eyes with his hat" trend is consistent ever since Law first appeared in the manga. In fact, already in Sabaody when he thanks Luffy for "showing him something interesting", his eyes are hidden by the shadow of his hat. We know that this is not what he's actually thanking Luffy for, he's thanking him for defending Hachi, the fishman, when people were basically saying he spreads diseases and is disgusting, and moved away from him etc. Because this reminded Law of all the hospital trips Cora-san forced him to go through as a child, and people's reactions to amber lead syndrome's symptoms.

This consistency in Law's portrayal (especially with the little trick in hiding his emotions - Oda already must have had reason for obscuring Law's eyes in this moment above, but not in any other one! And this connects to Law's backstory) is the reason why I believe Oda had planned a lot about Law ever since he introduced him, despite the fact he claims he invented Supernovas on the spot. It's just way too consistent for me to believe he had no plan for him yet.

Anyway, if you followed what I have been saying, you can already guess that in this shot, when Law declares that "he wishes he could let Luffy do whatever he wants", he's bullshitting everyone. He does not wish for that in the slightest, lol.

There are much more examples of that in the manga and even if I wished I wouldn't be able to cover them all, haha. But if any of you feel like checking it out, do it and pay attention to Law's eyes - are they hidden by the shadow of his hat? If so, you can guess he's not completely honest, is withholding information, has a secret plan set in motion, or is hiding his emotions.

At the end of Punk Hazard and at end of Wano, Law's eyes are hidden as well, which is why I know he's hiding something, I just don't know what exactly. People were suspcious already when this Wano chapter first came out and I would say for a good reason! There's really no point in hiding Law's eyes when he's talking about "North East being the most direct route" unless he had a completely different reason for choosing that direction. What could it be? Your guess is as good as mine. And of course we all know he hides his knowledge level about "man marked by flames".

Now that he lost his hat, he will be left really vulnerable. But at least his lovely ruffled hair will be unleashed to the world in it's full glory ✨

[ltwilliammowett]

Small brass bound coopered naval rum cask. Full size grog barrels of this form were to be found on board ship to hold rum and was rationed out to the crew. This example was probably made to be presented to the ship’s captain or the wardroom, England, 1800 -1830

[trickphotography2]

Overtime

It was just supposed to be a football game. But then Hangman took Syla up on her invitation to watch the Blue Angels perform at the Miramar air show. A month after meeting and facing the last home show of her career, the history making Naval Aviator invited Hangman to visit her in Pensacola. She didn't actually expect him to accept. Payback definitely wasn't happy.

A continuation of First and Goal. This got away from me at 5.1K words. No physical description of the reader, callsign is Syla (pronounced like Cilla) and she's a Florida State fan.

Cross-posted on Ao3.

-------------------------------------------------------

The humidity hit Jake in the face as he exited the Pensacola airport. His eyes darted up and then to the line of cars. “I’m under the Delta sign.”

“Okay, I’m pulling out of the cellphone lot,” Syla said. He heard her humming and felt his lip twitch. Over the month they’d been talking, he’d heard it many, many times, usually when she was focused on something. Once, when they’d done a video call while she was in Oregon, he’d asked her if she hummed while flying and was promptly flipped off. “I...think I see you.” The call disconnected as a blue convertible Mini Cooper stopped in front of him. Payback scowled, elbowing him out of the way as Syla got out and circled the car. 

“Reuben!” she squealed. Jake rolled his eyes, grabbing the other man’s bag as he hugged Syla, lifting her off her feet. Payback hadn’t been thrilled to find out he wasn’t the only one who had requested leave to head down to Florida for the Blue Angels homecoming show. Hell, Syla had been surprised when Jake had quickly accepted her half-joking invitation.

Jake had gone to the show in Miramar. It was his first time seeing them since their flyover at his Academy graduation, which he’d only half paid attention to back then. The Blue Angels were good PR for the Navy but had never caught his attention - pilots stuck repeating the same maneuvers every time? Sounded almost as bad as being assigned to desk duty. He'd take dog fighting every time if given the choice between it and the flying equivalent of synchronized swimming. But, after going through flight school and some experience with formation flying, he had a new respect for the Angels. 

The way Syla filled out her tight blue flight suit definitely didn’t hurt matters. Jake had managed to get close enough to watch the team march in a line to their jets and climb in, trading out their caps for helmets before taxiing and taking off in formation. For an hour, he watched them execute loops, inversions, pitches, and breaks. After the show, he’d joined the queue for her autograph and grinned at her surprised look. As she signed the team picture, he asked her about not wearing a g-suit that helped keep blood from pooling in the lower extremities and forced it toward the brain. From his estimation, they were pulling at least 7Gs at points.

“Can’t,” Syla had shrugged. “We have our right arm on our thigh for stability and to help with the 40-pound spring tensioned on the stick. Air bladders would inflate at the worst time and ruin the maneuver. ‘Sides, since we fly it constantly, we know when to tense to avoid G-LOC.” Sliding her aviators down her nose, the Blue Angel smirked and slid the picture across the table to him. “Good to see you again, Hangman.” 

Her phone number was under her loopy signature. 

“Hey,” Jake said when she turned her attention to him, eyebrow raised over her sunglasses. Crossing her arms over her chest, forcing her breasts higher into the tank top she wore, Syla cocked her hip. 

“I have so many questions. First - what the hell is with the pornstache?” Grinning, Jake ran a hand over his mustache. 

“Don’t like it?”

“You look like the other guy in your squad… um…” she snapped her fingers, glancing at Payback.

“Rooster.”

“Rooster! That’s right. He can pull off a mustache.”

“I make a mustache look good,” he chuckled, dropping the bags into the open trunk. Shaking her head, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. 

“Jury’s out. Also, people are gonna think you’re a Gator or Canes fan in that orange.”

“Hook ‘em, baby.” Over her head, Jake caught Payback’s eye roll.

“Alright,” Syla said, stepping out of his loose embrace and slamming the trunk closed. “Get in so we can go grab dinner. I’m starving.” 

“Please tell me we’re getting some seafood,” Payback moaned, beelining for the front seat. Jake rolled his eyes, following Syla around the car and pulling open the door for her before ducking into the back seat. His knees pressed into her seat, and he shifted to try and get more comfortable. 

The two aviators chatted while Syla pulled out of the airport and drove through Pensacola. It had been years since Jake had been back. Like many Naval aviators, his career had begun at a local flight school while stationed at NAS Whiting Field, just across the bridge and a couple of miles down I-10 in Milton. While he’d enjoyed his time at Annapolis during the Academy, it had been fun to cut loose and spend weekends on the white sand beaches, flirting with tourists and drinking at dive bars. But after he’d moved on to Intermediate Flight Training, he’d never looked back. North Florida had little appeal for him. If he had to be stationed in the state, he would go for the Keys.

“You good back there, Hangman?” Syla asked, pulling him from his musing. She’d twisted in her seat, strands of hair that had escaped her regulation bun framing her face.

“All good, just looking at how much it’s changed.” She smiled, turning back around when the light turned green.

After grabbing dinner by the beach at a local spot called The Oar House, the trio made their way to Syla’s place. It was a cute little white house with a red - “garnet,” she’d corrected - door. As another condition of his coming, Payback claimed the one guest bedroom while Jake was relegated to the couch. 

It helped to know that Payback only had the bed for one night and would join him in sleeping in the living room when Syla’s parents arrived the next day. 

So, while Payback went to bed early to call his kid, Jake and Syla hung out. At first, there had been some initial awkwardness, trying to navigate a friendship conducted mainly over the phone. It didn’t take long until Jake found himself itching to tuck her hair, free from the tight bun and damp from her shower, behind her ear. 

“Okay, I have to know,” she said, setting her glass on the coffee table before facing him. Propping her elbow against the back of the couch, she buried a hand in her hair and smirked. “What’s with the mustache? You weren’t deployed, so it’s not a deployment ‘stache. Or is this like a normal thing for you?”

“Definitely not a normal thing for me,” he chuckled, setting his beer on the coffee table and turning to mirror her. At her cocked eyebrow, he shrugged. “Payback.” 

“Are we talking Reuben or revenge for something?”

“A bit of both. He’s real protective of you and wasn’t happy to hear that we’ve been talking. Or that I was coming here.”

“Oh god, are you telling me you look like that because of me?” She let her head fall back at his shrug while taking a deep breath. The move pulled her sleep shirt tight against her chest, and he could see her pebbled nipples through the material. “I’m gonna kill him.” 

“It’s fine.” And it was. It was worth it if this was the penalty for violating the bro code - as the rest of the Daggers had ruled when they found out about his contact with Syla. 

“Your pretty face shouldn’t be sacrificed for his petty male ego.” 

“You think I’m pretty?” Jake teased. Syla lowered her head and gave him an unimpressed look. With a huff, she ran her thumb over his mustache. 

“When you don’t have a fuzzy caterpillar on your face.” Amusement sparkled in his green eyes when Syla raised hers from his mouth to meet his. Her fingers rasped on his stubble as they glided across his jaw. Jake watched, biting back a groan when she played with the hair on the nape of his neck. Gentle pressure guided him closer as her tongue darted to wet her lips. A smirk curved his mouth as his gaze narrowed to hers. 

A throat cleared, and Syla jumped, her hand falling to her lap. Payback stood beside the television, arms crossed over his chest. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked. 

“Absolutely,” Syla replied, even as pink dusted her cheeks. Payback’s eyes darted to Jake, who shrugged. “Oh no - this is not… If you have a problem with me talking to Jake, you’ll talk to me about it, Reuben.” 

“Okay. I don’t like it. You don’t know Hangman.” 

“Cool. Good to know. That’s part of why we’re talking - to get to know one another.” He groaned her name, running a hand down his face. 

“He’s got a reputation in Miramar.” Jake flushed with embarrassment. Sure, he enjoyed a one-night stand, but he hadn’t had one in a while. Definitely not since he’d started talking to the pilot beside him.

“So you’re telling me he knows what he’s doing and can probably find the clit. That’s great to know.” Both men sputtered, and Syla laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, Payback, I’m not the 22-year-old girl you met. And as much as I appreciate you looking out for me, I’m a pretty good judge of character. So if I want to talk to Jake, kiss him, and maybe have sex, that’s our decision.” Patting Jake’s shoulder, she stood and gave Payback a sweet smile. “And with that, gentlemen, I’m going to go to bed since I have work in the morning. You know, where I’m a history-making Naval aviator whose judgment is tested and proven every day that I’m in the air flying inches away from other aviators, where one small deviation could mean death for either of us. Night boys.”

The two men watched Syla walk to the hallway, pausing to pat Payback’s chest and closing her bedroom door. 

Jake fell a little bit in love.

“Morning,” Jake said, his voice rough with sleep. Syla smiled and waved, continuing towards the kitchen where the coffee pot gurgled. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he joined her, taking the mug she slid across the counter and leaning against the stove, scratching his bare chest. 

“How’d you sleep?” she asked.

“Not the worst place I’ve bunked.”

“It’s a step above the carrier.” He smiled over the rim of his mug. He’d never dated a woman in the military and never would have even thought about pursuing another aviator. Sure, he enjoyed flirting with Phoenix to get a rise out of her, but their careers overlapped too much for him to ever think about pursuing anything. Plus, Rooster would kill him if he ever worked up the nerve to admit his feelings about his “best friend.”

But there was something comforting about talking with Syla. Over the last month, he’d enjoyed not having to explain things in his daily life. No explanation was needed when he rescheduled calls because he was doing late maneuvers. Honestly, she was the one doing the rescheduling more often than not. She was also the one who fell asleep when they were on the phone. He’d never admit it, but Jake usually stayed on the line for a few more minutes, listening to her soft breathing and half-heartedly hoping she’d wake before hanging up. 

“What’s your day look like?” he asked. Syla frowned and stepped past him to look at the calendar hanging on the refrigerator. 

“We’re briefing the show this morning and then going to a middle school. Not sure if we’re doing the interview there or if the camera crew is just getting footage. Then final dress rehearsal over the Gulf.” There was something sad in her eyes when she turned to meet his gaze. 

“What?”

“I just…” To his surprise, tears gathered in her eyes as she looked up at the ceiling and swallowed. “Sorry, just kinda hitting me that this is it.” Setting his mug down, he opened his arms. Syla rested her head on his shoulder, palms flat on his chest. Jake's hand ran up the back of her flight suit, tugging her closer as he brushed his lips against her temple. When she lifted her head, he kissed her cheek. But when he tried to do it again, she turned to meet him.

Their first kiss was a sweet one. Syla’s hands drifted up his chest to wrap around the back of his neck and tug him down as she surged onto her toes. He steadied her with hands on her hips, gripping the blue fabric tightly as she licked into his mouth. A groan escaped him as she smiled. The mustache prickled against her skin. 

“It’s too early for this.” 

“Morning, Reuben,” Syla sighed, dropping back onto her heels and resting her forehead against Jake’s chin. Slowly, she pulled away and looked at her friend. “Sleep well?”

“Other than a nightmare, yeah.” Chuckling, she stepped out of Jake’s arms and grabbed her travel coffee mug. 

“Duke is gonna pick me up so you can have my car for the day. I’ll be home around 5:30 or 6:00. My parent should be here around that time, too, so we’ll go out for dinner. I have to have an early night for the show tomorrow, but we can take two cars so you can have fun downtown.” The flight leader was happy to help her with a ride, seeing as he lived down the street. 

“An early night sounds good to me,” Jake nodded. 

“Great. Duke’s pulling up, so I’m headed out.” With a quick peck to both men’s cheeks, she left.

“You’re an ass,” Payback grumbled while opening the cabinets for a mug. Ignoring him, Jake returned to the couch and grabbed his cell phone, quickly pulling up their text thread.

Can confirm I know where the clit is

A few minutes later came her reply.

Seeing is believing

Syla woke early and pulled on her running gear. It was hard to sneak out of the house with the two aviators crashing in the living room, but she managed it. After slipping her earbuds in, she started her pre-show tradition of a five-mile run while mentally practicing the flight maneuvers. Hands clenched in front of her, she imagined Duke’s voice and positioned the stick and throttle. Deployed the smoke that allowed the crowd to follow them as they climbed. She would have the privilege of a sneak attack on the beach, buzzing the crowd who watched her wingmen fly ahead. 

Even after three seasons, every show made her nervous. And performing in front of the hometown crowd, while amazing, brought its own level of pressure. North Florida was the home to a huge military population. These people saw them the most - they practiced over the Naval Aviation Museum twice weekly and signed autographs. Hell, there was a sign as you got into town that said ‘Home of the Blue Angels.’ Pensacola had the Blue Angels, Corry Station, and Whiting Field, where many aviation careers started. The Air Force had three bases just an hour up the road - Hurlburt Field, Duke Field, and Eglin. Eglin had its own place in military aviation history, as it was where the pilots of the Doolittle Raid - the US’s retaliation on Japan following Pearl Harbor, where modified bombers had launched from the USS Hornet with no fighters as backup - had trained. The Air Force had their own fighter and test wings stationed there, and the Army was training special forces.

Further out were the two bases in Panama City - the Naval Support Activity Panama City and Tyndall Air Force Base, which housed their own fighter wing. That wasn’t even considering all of the veterans in the area. Syla had briefly dated someone who worked for the Veteran’s Administration, who had told her that the Gulf Coast was one of the fastest-growing areas for vets. 

So yeah, hometown shows made her nervous. And her dumb ass had invited a certain Lieutenant, who made her even more nervous. Who she outranked. As a Lieutenant Commander, she was responsible for ensuring they didn’t break any fraternization rules. And even though Jake wouldn’t be under her command - the Daggers were stationed at Miramar under TOPGUN but were not instructors - they might still get some looks.

Which was presuming that Jake even wanted something other than a fling. Panting, Syla stopped running and bent, wiping away the sweat on her brow. Even this early, the humidity was killer. “Fucking focus,” she ordered herself. 

There was nothing like an airshow. From the moment Syla stepped onto the tarmac, the energy was electric. For her last home show, they’d picked the theme of Celebrating Women in Aviation, focusing on the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASPS) that began in WWII when the US needed pilots. Women could join the military to ferry, test, and deliver planes for repair. 

From the civilian aerobatic pilots to the Air Force’s Viper and F-35 demo teams and the explosive Tora Tora Tora reenactment, there was something for everyone. She joined her parents, Reuben, and Jake after the Angels’ morning briefing. While her parents and Reuben stayed in the tent, she and Jake did a quick walk around, pausing so she could sign autographs and take pictures. She was glad her sunglasses were on when a little girl traced over her embroidered wings and said she wanted to be a pilot, too. Jake’s fingers brushed hers as they walked, and she fought a smile. 

And then it was show time. Syla forced herself to focus on the moment. Doing anything else would endanger the team and her aircraft. So, she focused on saluting her flight crew and doing her checks. She wasn’t part of the diamond take-off formation but would be doing a high G vertical climb into an inversion. And then she thought about Duke’s final order - “Have fun.” 

So she did. She allowed herself to smile as she fought against gravity, admired the beautiful ocean she flew over, and laughed at the startled crowd as she executed the sneak pass. 

And yes, she did hum while doing it. 

Sunday was harder. Syla woke up early for her run and was surprised to find Jake awake in the kitchen, shirtless and wearing running shorts and sneakers. He joined her, her extra reflective belt wrapped around his bicep. It was still dark, their way lit by streetlights and the occasional passing car. Jake glanced over as she ran through the show, hands at her stomach moving the imaginary stick and throttle. 

Everything for her last show needed to be perfect. 

“You’ve got this,” he said when they turned back into her cul de sac. Feeling like a teenager sneaking around, she tugged him around the side of the house and pressed him against the siding. His hands wrapped around her hips, holding her tightly as her hands slid up his sweat-slicked skin to wrap around the back of his neck. It was still dark out, the sun not due to rise for another hour. If her neighbors looked out the glass door in their living room or someone drove past, they would easily be spotted. But that didn’t stop her from pressing against him, feeling his heat through her sports bra and running shorts. 

Jake pressed teasing kisses to her forehead, nose, and cheek before Syla gripped his hair and kissed him hard. His hand slid to her ass, squeezing and tugging her closer. She could feel his cock through his jogging shorts and dug her nails into his skin to keep from touching him. Nothing in the world would make her jeopardize her career with a public indecency charge. 

When his attention shifted to her neck, licking the salt from her skin, Syla forced herself to push against his shoulders and step back. His grip tightened, not letting her go too far. “Everything okay?” he asked. In the semi-darkness, she could barely make out his confused expression. 

“I need to know,” she said, biting her kiss-swollen lower lip. “I know we’ve only known each other for a month, but am I pissing off one of my best friends for a fling?”

“A fling?” 

“I outrank you, Jake. If there’s blowback, it’s gonna come back on me. Not only because of rank but because I’m a woman. I will always have Blue Angels in my bio, so I will always be held to the highest standard. So I have to know - is this just having fun? Or is this something we want to pursue? Because I’m fine either - ”

Jake’s lips silenced her, his tongue insistently licking into her mouth as he turned them to pin her against the siding with his hips. With his hands braced by her head, he pulled away, smirking when she chased his kiss. One knuckle traced from her temple and swept across her jaw before tilting her head up as he tutted her name. “You think I’d risk pissing off my entire squad for a fling? If I wanted that, I would have just waited for you to get to Miramar instead of coming out here, annoying Payback, and meeting your parents. This is my first vacation in years, and I wanted to spend time alone with you. If you want this to be a fling - ”

“I don’t.” 

“Good. Cause I don’t either.” They stood there, smiling at one another for a long moment until they heard a dog bark. Shoving him away, Syla turned and waved at her neighbor as he stepped out of the house across the street, dressed for his own morning run. Taking Jake’s hand, she tugged him back towards the front door, enjoying how he pressed himself against her back as she unlocked it. “Just wait until we’re alone, and I’ll show you just how well I can find your clit,” he growled in her ear as she gripped the doorknob.

“Just out of curiosity,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Did you tell Reuben that you were staying for a week? Or does he think you’re flying out tonight, too?”

“Now, where would the fun be in telling him?” Jake asked. Syla laughed, turning in his embrace to pat his cheek. 

“It’s your funeral, Hangman.” His grin was blinding as he leaned down to kiss her.

“What a hell of a reason to go.”

Emotion nearly choked her as Syla drove down Blue Angel Parkway toward the base. She’d left her parents to drive the other aviators in, wanting some time alone that morning. The squad had invited her guests to watch the last briefing of the season so they wouldn’t be too far behind. Reuben or Jake would be able to get her parents on base. While the air show gates didn’t open until 8:00AM, a few cars were already waiting at the Visitor Control building’s parking lot. After flashing her ID to the gate guard, she made her way to the hanger to quickly inspect her plane. Their flight mechanics were among the best in the world, and Syla trusted them with her life, but you could never be too careful. Once assured that everything was fine, she made her way to the briefing room, pausing to talk to some of the other early birds and to grab a shitty cup of coffee from the break room. Rather than take her seat, she took the opportunity to read the plaques that decorated the walls, running her finger over her name engraved on the list of pilots. 

“Big day, Syla. You ready for it?” Duke asked, coming into the briefing room and standing beside her. She glanced up at him and rolled her lips together, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. 

“As I’ll ever be,” she replied hoarsely. 

“One more flight, and then you’re back in the greens,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her close. 

“I look so much better in blue,” she smirked, glancing down at her flight suit. After three years, going back to a green suit that didn’t have her name and plane number embroidered on her chest, that had a different squadron patch, would be strange. This wasn’t the first time she’d left a squad, but it definitely was the hardest. Their team, from the flight and ground crew to the Marine pilots that flew Fat Albert, the C-130J that carried the crew show to show, spent so much time together. From January to November, they saw each other every day - on Thursdays, they flew out to the show location and returned to Pensacola on Mondays; Tuesdays and Wednesdays were practice days. For three years, Syla had celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, new babies, and graduations with these folks. She’d babysat for their kids and hung out at their houses. They had gotten her drunk to celebrate her promotion before dragging her to the beach and tossing her into the Gulf in her whites - she made sure that they also got drenched - and teased her relentlessly whenever she dated someone. 

The other squad members slowly filed in, and Syla was subjected to brotherly teasing. When her guests arrived, she introduced Jake and Reuben by their callsigns. The looks her squad sent her when Hangman shook their hands were priceless - they’d seen his name pop up on her phone more than a few times. The corner of Jake’s eye twitched at every shake, making her wonder if they were squeezing his hand harder than necessary. Payback looked happy at the cooler welcome the other pilot got. 

“Alright,” the flight leader said once everyone had taken their seat around the table, him at the head. Crew and her guests sat along the wall. “We’ll leave the sentimental stuff for the boat party later, but as you all know, this is Syla’s last flight with us. And while we’re excited to welcome Lieutenant Commander Reyes in a few months, she will have big shoes to fill. So we’ll be perfect today, not only for Syla but for our hometown crowd. I want the debrief to be short this afternoon so we can go celebrate another successful season and get some downtime. Now, conditions today allow for the high show…” Syla opened her folder and retrieved the aerial map of Pensacola as he read out the wind and view data. The tip of her pen traced the maneuvers they would go through, as he called them.

She could feel eyes on her as they pushed away from the table and did a chair flight, Duke’s comforting cadence helping her block out everything else. Her own eyes remained closed as they talked through the flight, visualizing and practicing the throttles and stick positions, where they would have pull on the stick, tensing to fight the Gs, her calls on the radio, turning to check the alignment of their synchronized ascent into the loop, deploying smoke - every second of the 45-minute show.  

And when she opened her eyes, they caught on a pair of green ones that stared at her from across the room. The corner of Jake’s mouth twitched as he gave a curt nod. Beside him, her parents beamed. Payback sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and grinned. 

Syla couldn’t help the tears that fell as she taxied back into position. Even over her engine, she could hear the crowd cheering as they announced her name and thanked her for her years of flying with the Blues. As the canopy rose, she swiped at her face and took a deep breath. 

It was over. 

After three years, she was now returning to the fleet. She would be assigned a new Super Hornet, grey instead of bright blue, with her name and callsign painted below the canopy. The next few months would be spent reviewing tactical and weapons updates, and she’d have a few weeks to refresh her air combat skills before taking on her first TOPGUN class. She was pretty sure that she'd spend some time with the meatball, the machine that helped baby aviators learn the dimensions of the ship's flight line; she felt rusty even with over 600 carrier landings under her belt. 

Thankfully, she was sure there was an active-duty pilot who would be more than happy to help her study.

“You good?” Syla looked up at her crew chief and nodded at the woman. Quickly, she handed over the helmet, realizing it would be one of the last times she wore it. Soon, she would be back in her garnet one with gold arrows - her nod to her alma mater. After smoothing down her hair, she put her cover back on and prepared to exit the cockpit. 

Three years. Over 900 days on the road. Hundreds of hours in the air. 

It was over.

A Week Later

Fanboy glanced at his phone, frowning at the text from Hangman. The Miami game was on a commercial break, so he quickly opened it and saw it was a video. 

He recognized the place immediately - Florida State’s football stadium. Doak Campbell. Fucking Hangman was at the Miami-FSU game. Hangman panned the camera around the stadium, and Fanboy realized he was standing on the field. In the endzone. The announcer’s voice was a bit muffled but became clearer as Hangman refocused the camera on Syla. 

“Callsign Syla made history as the first female aviator on the Blue Angels, carrying on the proud FSU tradition of excellence. Let’s give a loud welcome home to Syla!”

The crowd roared, chants of “USA” echoing as Syla held up her hands and waved before doing the tomahawk chop. In the background, he saw that she was being broadcast on the jumbotron. As it cut away, she held her hands up again. She brought her thumbs together to form the University of Miami ‘U’ symbol before dropping all but her middle fingers. The student section started a chant of ‘Fuck U’ as she laughed. 

“Fuck Miami!” Syla grinned. 

“Fuck Miami!” Hangman echoed, swinging the camera around to show himself flipping off the camera, that god-awful mustache still on his face. For once, he wasn’t wearing Texas gear but had swapped it out for a Seminoles cap and t-shirt. 

Oh, Fanboy thought. He was definitely gonna have to deal with way more bro code violations once he got back. Especially after he forgot to turn off the recording before kissing Syla. 

Fanboy debated forwarding it to the group chat but decided against it. Having a bit of blackmail was never a bad thing.

The group chat started popping off in the 4th quarter. 

What the fuck is this? Payback fired off, sharing a picture of Hangman with his arm around Syla and their back to the field. Her hand rested on his stomach. 

Damn, Rooster replied. Phoenix added a gif of Stephen Colbert eating popcorn.

Looks like fun, Bob added. 

Fuck the Noles, Fanboy typed out.

Is no one bothered by this??? Payback demanded. The chat went silent until Hangman’s name popped up.

Syla here. Two things - 1) Fuck Miami, and 2) I’m begging you to let the man shave the fucking mustache. Facial hair is not my thing.

---------------------------------------------------

Note: I didn't expect to write a follow up to First and Goal, but I also didn't expect the engagement with it. Thank you to everyone who read it. A major thank you to @mayhemmanaged for helping talk me through this fic and reading a rough draft of it. And @dreamlandcreations for saying she wanted a part 2.

The North Florida panhandle has a huge military population. I recently moved away from the Gulf Coast, after my dad was stationed at Eglin AFB. That is where I first got to see a jet engine up close and see how beautiful the afterburner could be. It's where I went to my first stateside air show. I completed an internship at the VA in Pensacola, and was able to see the Blue Angels fly every week. Like Jake, I didn't really appreciate the panhandle until I left. There's nothing like shifting from pine trees to an ocean view as you cross the I-10 bridge, going from Whiting Field to Pensacola.

Like Syla, I'm a diehard Seminole, graduating from there a total of 4 times. I actually stole her flight leader's callsign, Duke, from a guy I went to high school and college with, who flies for the Air Force.

So long story short, this fic was inspired by aviation and Lieutenant Commander Amanda 'Stalin' Lee, the first female Blue Angel. Thanks for reading ❤️

Tagging those who reblogged and commented on First and Goal:

kmc1989; gigisimsonmars; starset21; the-slytherin-library-12; ssa-sadboi; fanficfandomlove; shanimallina87; myfaveficrecs; roosterforme; thefandomimagines; dreamlandcreations; topherwrites; roosteraloha; tgmreader; love-in-light; starlightmoon2020; clockworkballerina; bibissparkles; top-hhun; just-in-case-iloveyou; scarlettwidow19; themusingofagothicsoul; milani-marie; rooseresintg; lets-turn-and-burn; bellaireland1981; shanimallina87; sydthekid1518; gspenc; mimi-8793; novagreen04; fulla02reads; alldaysdreamers; atarmychick007; onceupona-happilyeverafter-love; rosiahills22

[justabigassnerd]

Love and Support

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader

Word count - 2,003

Warnings - burnout, not taking care of one's self, worries about letting people down, lil' pinch of angst, fluff

Summary - you worry about your school work, causing you to neglect self-care until your dad swoops in to help

A/N - hey y'all, it's time for a new fic! this was an anon request that I had a blast writing! I love writing Mav as a dad bc I just know he'd be the best dad. anyway I won't ramble, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

You took after your father in a lot of ways, but the most glaring similarity was how you would stop at nothing to achieve your goals, much like your dad. Maverick had been rejected from the naval academy the first time he applied on account of his father being Duke Mitchell. But that didn’t stop Maverick, he went back and got himself a spot in the naval academy, graduating and working his way up until he and Goose were granted a spot at Top Gun. Much like your father, you knew what you wanted, and you’d stop at virtually nothing to make sure you got to where you wanted to be.

However, in pursuing your goals, you began to neglect yourself. You would go to school and study and the second you passed the threshold of your house; you’d study until Maverick had to coax you away with food. You hardly made time for friends, even Bradley had a challenge trying to get you to leave your studies for more than five minutes so you could relax and not think about school.

Maverick had noticed how you locked yourself away and wouldn’t spend much time away from your school work. He was so proud of you for working hard to reach your goal, but he couldn’t help but worry as well. He knew if you kept on studying with no breaks, you’d drive yourself into the ground because of the amount of pressure you were putting on yourself. He voiced his concerns, but you brushed him off every time, assuring him that you were fine.

One day, the stress had built up to almost unspeakable levels, you were in crunch mode, all too aware of how close your deadlines were, and you needed to get good grades to ensure you got into a good college to get your dream job. You were deep in studying, fighting to understand one of the only things that had been giving you trouble at school when suddenly you felt tears welling in your eyes as you realised it was not sinking in at all. Your mind begins to race with worst-case scenarios. What if this one subject caused you to fail? You would let not only yourself down, but your dad too. He knew how hard you worked, and you wanted to make him proud. You rested your elbows on your desk and buried your head in your hands as you took a shuddering breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

“y/n/n, do you want something to eat?” You hear your dad’s voice coming from outside your room, but you couldn’t get your voice to cooperate with you. Every time you attempted to speak you choked up and all that came out was choked sobs as more tears streamed down your cheeks. Concerned by your lack of response, Maverick eased your door open carefully, knocking once more but immediately throwing the door open the rest of the way when he saw you sobbing into your hands.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Maverick asked worriedly, not moving to touch you as you wipe at your eyes, not looking at your dad in embarrassment. Maverick eases himself down to sit on the end of your bed as he watches you carefully. Maverick doesn’t force you to respond, he waits for you to come to him. You wipe your eyes a few more times before you stand from your chair and cross to your bed, sitting down alongside your father and immediately curling into his side and he wastes no time in wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close as you take some slow, deep breaths to calm yourself, focusing on Maverick’s heartbeat to ground yourself. Once more, Maverick didn’t force anything out of you, he ran a hand up and down your back and pressed soft kisses to the top of your head to help calm you. When you have recovered enough to formulate sentences, you pull away from your dad’s embrace and wipe at your eyes again.

“Sorry.” You apologise, moving to shuffle away from Maverick but he keeps his arm around you, not wanting you to run away.

“Don’t apologise. What’s up? What’s bothering you? You know you can tell me anything.” Maverick urges softly, his eyes searching yours as you look up at him. You remain silent for a moment, debating on whether you tell your dad what was causing your upset.

“I’m scared.” You manage to say, tears still wetting your eyes as Maverick lifts a hand to brush any fallen tears off your cheeks.

“What are you scared of?” He asks gently, wanting to do his best to help you.

“I’m scared of failing my exams. If I fail, then I won’t get into a good college and get the career I want. And if I fail then I’m letting you down too and I can’t let you down.” You say blinking rapidly before Maverick pulls you back into a hug, consoling you as you cry. When you’ve once again calmed down, Maverick presses a kiss to the top of your head and pulls away slightly so he can look you in the eye.

“Hey, listen to me carefully. You aren’t going to fail, okay? You’ve been busting your ass studying for so long and I know you can do it. Don’t you ever worry about letting me down because you could never do that. I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve achieved, have been proud of you since you were born.” Maverick says, brushing your tears away and smiling softly at you.

“Really? You’re really proud of me?” You question quietly, your eyes teary yet curious as you look up at him.

“Of course I am. How could I not? Just ask any of the guys, they’d tell you that I never shut up about you.” Maverick says, chuckling lightly at himself as you smile lightly at his words. It meant the whole world to you to hear that your dad was proud of you.

“Thank you, dad. I love you.” You say softly, cuddling close to your dad as he embraces you once more.

“I love you too, kid.” Maverick says, running his hand up and down your back before he pulls away once more, relieved to see the tears gone from your eyes.

“Now, how about we take a break from studying? I’ll order us some food and we can relax, see if there’s anything good on tv tonight.” Maverick says, noticing you think about it, and just before you open your mouth to gently refuse his offer, Maverick speaks up again.

“It wasn’t a question. You’ve not taken a break in a good while and it’ll do you good to relax. We’ll take a look at what you’re struggling with another day and I’ll see if I can help. And from now until your exams are done, I’m going to be making sure you take regular breaks and take care of yourself.” Maverick says quickly, a sternness sneaking into his tone that you rarely hear, making it clear to you that he’s being one hundred percent serious with you.

“Okay, I’ll take a break.” You say, giving in to what your dad asks of you. Maverick nods in approval at your answer and stands from his spot, pulling you up with him.

“Have a shower, relax and get changed into something comfortable, I’ll head downstairs and order some pizza for us.” Maverick says, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before excusing himself to head downstairs, leaving you to shower and get changed. The moment your door clicked shut, you glanced at your desk, observing the open textbook that seemingly taunted you, inviting you to sit at the desk once more before you crossed to your desk, flipping the textbook shut, and your notebook for good measure before you showered and changed into your comfy clothes ready to join your dad downstairs. You head downstairs and find your dad sitting on the sofa, flipping through tv channels.

“I’ve ordered the pizzas but unfortunately there’s not much on tv.” Maverick says when he notices you entering the living room, glancing over at you with a smile.

“It’s a Friday evening, are you sure there’s nothing on?” You laugh, taking the remote out of your dad’s hand and flicking through the remainder of the channels, finding a movie that would make good background noise.

“I was thinking we should go to the beach tomorrow with the Bradshaws. It’s been a while since we all spent the day together and Goose won’t stop going on about how much he, Carole, and Bradley miss you.” Maverick says as you flop down on the sofa.

“Sounds good. I’ve missed them too.” You reply with a smile as Maverick reaches to ruffle your hair. After about fifteen minutes of chatting with your dad and half-watching the tv, the doorbell rings.

“That must be the pizza, you get us some drinks and I’ll get the food.” Maverick says, getting up from the sofa with you following. You head to the kitchen while your dad grabs his wallet and crosses to the front door. When you emerge from the kitchen with drinks in hand, Maverick had already set the pizza boxes out on the coffee table and made a space for the drinks. You place the drinks on the coffee table before you ease yourself down on the sofa alongside your dad.

“This movie is ridiculous. Do they think the military works that way?” Maverick complains as you laugh.

“Dad it’s just a movie.” You say as you reach out to take a slice of pizza.

“Well, the least they could do is research what they make a movie about.” Your dad complains as you roll your eyes at your dad’s complaints, taking a bite out of your food. You continue to watch the movie, joining in with your dad’s jabs at the military inaccuracies within the film. By the end of the movie, the pizzas had been eaten and you felt exhaustion creeping into your system.

“Well after watching that train wreck of a movie, I’m beat. And I think the same goes for you.” Maverick says, standing up and turning off the tv as you yawn, nodding in agreement at his words. You help your dad clear away the pizza boxes and cups before the two of you head up to your rooms. You brush your teeth and then collapse into bed, immediately curling up under your duvet. After a minute or so, Maverick opens the door, knocking lightly to signal his entrance.

“Hey, kiddo.” Maverick says, crossing to your bedside and ruffling your hair as you prop yourself up on your elbow.

“Hey, dad. Thank you for earlier.” You say, smiling up at your dad as he smiles back.

“No need to thank me, y/n. It’s my job to look after you. I know that you’re going to take the world by storm one day, and I’m going to be cheering you on from the sidelines.” Maverick says as you move to hug him, immediately reciprocating and holding you close.

“I love you, dad.” You whisper, cuddling even closer to your dad.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now, get some rest. You’ve earnt it.” Maverick says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your head before stepping away to let you rest. You watch as your dad crosses back to your bedroom door and flicks your light off before wishing you goodnight once more and closing the door behind him as he leaves to go to his own room. You flop back against your mattress and cocoon yourself in the duvet once more and allow your eyes to close, for once not stressing about your school work.

You knew you’d be okay now.