#specs and the flyboy
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Necessary Evils (Tales From The SSR)
Summary: As they await news of Michael Carter's surgery, (Y/N) and Jack discuss her unwanted connection to Arnim Zola and the feel of foreboding that the former Hydra doctor left in his wake.
Pairing: Jack Thompson X Fem!Reader, Peggy Carter X Daniel Sousa, Edwin Jarvis X Ana Jarvis
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings/Disclaimers: None
A/N: Hi there! This week's surprise one-shot is gonna explore a little of Specs' whereabouts in the aftermath of Bucky Barnes' death in The First Avenger and we're gonna have some great moments between her and Jack, so buckle up! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!
Necessary Evils
January 1948
Los Angeles County Hospital, Los Angeles
(Previous One-Shot)
“I got you some tea from the hospital’s cafeteria.” (Y/N) was pulled out of her silent reverie by Jack taking a seat beside her and offering her a disposable paper cup, the concerned gleam in her boyfriend’s blue eyes accompanied by the smallest of smiles for her benefit. “Earl Grey and two teaspoons of honey; I know how much it helps when you get one of your stress headaches.”
(Y/N), touched by his thoughtful gesture, reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She reached for the cup and after taking a long sip, she sat back in the uncomfortable waiting room chair with a frustrated sigh. “I hate this. The longer the surgery takes, the more I’d like to burst into that operating room and re-arrest that Nazi bastard before he tries anything funny with Michael.”
Beside her, Jack nodded as he patiently listened to her threats and threw Peggy – who was anxiously pacing across the hospital waiting room while Daniel unsuccessfully attempted to talk her into sitting down – a furtive glance before replying, “I don’t think this Zola guy would risk a lifetime imprisonment or execution by trying to bump off Carter mid-surgery, Specs. I mean, Stark and half a dozen MP’s are watchin’ him and the neurosurgeons like hawks as we speak, and he’s not gonna jeopardize the sweet deal the JIOA cut for him for something as low-stakes as this.”
“I wouldn’t call any of this ‘low-stakes,’ Flyboy,” (Y/N) murmured, looking around the fully-occupied waiting room and reflexively tightening her grip on her cup of tea; she, Jack, Peggy, Daniel, and the Jarvises, along with over a dozen uniformed SOE officers and SSR officials, were gathered at Los Angeles County Hospital for the long-awaited surgery that would theoretically restore Michael Carter’s mind to what it was before the brainwashing that Hydra subjected him to during the war. Several of the SOE officers served alongside Michael and had volunteered to travel from England to be with their fellow soldier in his time of need, but Peggy was understandably the most concerned of them all; Michael made his younger sister promise not to contact their parents about his staged death in 1941 and sudden reappearance until it was confirmed that the dangerous surgery was a success, wanting to prevent Harrison and Amanda Carter another heartbreak on the off-chance that Arnim Zola and the team of neurosurgeons failed and he passed away on the operating table. The Carter siblings spent several minutes alone with one another before they wheeled Michael into the operating room and since then, Peggy hadn’t been able to stay still. I’d be the same way if Freddie’s life were in the hands of that Nazi son of a bitch, (Y/N) thought to herself and one of her hands moved upwards to caress the locket containing her deceased brother’s photograph as she sympathetically watched Peggy continue to pace.
“You know what I mean.” Jack scooted closer to her side and when she finally looked over at him, the look of concern in his blue eyes was as prominent as ever. “Look, I get why Peggy’s taking all this personally…but I can’t figure why you are, too. You can talk to me, baby…” His hand moved to rest on her shoulder, and (Y/N) could feel the comforting warmth of his touch through the thin material of her blouse. “Whatever you’ve gotta say, I’m here. And if you don’t feel up to talkin’ just yet, then I’ll still be right here with you.”
(Y/N) lowered her gaze to her lap and spent several moments mustering the strength to speak, her voice wavering as she recalled some of the darkest moments of the war, the ones that she wished she could forget forever but sadly never could. “I helped capture Zola. I was deployed with the Howlies in the Swiss Alps, and we were tasked with finding and capturing Zola to interrogate him about Schmidt’s plans. Morita intercepted several radio transmissions from Hydra and after I decoded them, we had confirmation that Zola was on a train scheduled to travel through the same mountain pass that we were navigating. Steve, Bucky, Gabe and I used a zip chord to get onto the train while it was still in motion; Steve and Bucky left to secure the front train cars while Gabe and I stayed on the roof as their back-up, and that’s…that’s when…”
Her boyfriend rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together as he looked over at her. “That was the mission that Sergeant Barnes didn’t survive, wasn’t it?” She nodded, her eyes still diligently trained on the dark blue material of her trousers, but she could feel his compassionate gaze on her as he continued. “Barnes died a hero to his country. The bastard turned against Schmidt to save his own skin, and Cap and the SSR were able to end Hydra and the war. That’s gotta bring you and the rest of the Howling Commandos some satisfaction, right?”
“It did…” (Y/N) admitted, but she tightly pursed her lips as she recalled the aftermath of the fateful mission to capture Zola alive. “Right up until his interrogation, that is.”
The tunnels below the London headquarters of the Strategic Scientific Reserve echoed with the sound of (Y/N)’s standard-issue heels making contact with the stone floor as she approached one of many interrogation cells; her fingers tightly clutched the classified file in her hands in an effort to contain her swirling emotions but judging by the apprehensive expressions on the stationed MP’s faces whenever she passed by, she was doing a poor job of masking her true feelings.
“As requested, a copy of my mission report to D.C.,” (Y/N) announced as she came to a stop before Colonel Phillips, and she arched a brow at the tray of food he was holding. “Hungry?”
“Zola surrendered and didn’t try to do himself in with cyanide, so I figured that the usual interrogation techniques might not work on this wack-job. He should count himself lucky; I’ve got over a dozen SSR agents chomping at the bit to finally get their hands on a live Hydra operative.”
Just as Colonel Phillips balanced the tray on one hand to reach for the file, (Y/N) tightened her grip on it and blurted out, “Colonel, I need to go in there with you.”
“Agent (Y/L/N), you and the rest of the 107th tactical team have my condolences for Sergeant Barnes’ death, but I can’t allow you any access to-”
“Respectfully, Colonel, you’re the commanding officer of the Strategic Scientific Reserve; you can directly authorize an agent access to as many high-security prisoners as you deem necessary, correct? I’m only requesting access to one.”
“You don’t get to tell me how to do my job, Agent.” The sharp tone in the older man’s voice conflicted with the uncharacteristic compassion emanating from his dark brown gaze. “I’ll authorize you access to the observation room, but that’s it.”
(Y/N)’s jaw clenched as she forced herself to remain composed, but there was nothing she could do to keep her voice from trembling with barely-restrained grief. “Colonel, the man on the other side of that door is the reason my friend and God knows how many Allied soldiers are dead. I…I need to do all I can to ensure that he gives us all the intel we need to take Hydra down. I need to help end this war once and for all.”
In contrast with the strained working relationships he shared with Peggy and Howard, Colonel Chester Phillips seemed to have a soft spot for (Y/N) since the moment she was loaned out to the SSR from the OSS; Peggy often speculated that it was because she reminded him of his granddaughter back home and although she’d never admit it aloud, (Y/N) considered him to be the father-figure she’d always longed for. They got along with one another but more importantly, they shared a mutual respect and it was that respect that seemingly compelled the older man into finally giving her a relenting nod. With a brief command from Colonel Phillips, the MP stationed nearby opened the door and after taking a deep breath, (Y/N) followed the colonel into the interrogation cell.
A dim light from an overhead fixture illuminated the sparsely decorated cell, and the Swiss doctor whirled around to face them both as they sat down at the interrogation table; a surge of pleasure rippled through (Y/N) when she observed his colorless face and the way his hands anxiously fiddled with the sleeves of his prisoner’s uniform, and she maintained eye-contact with him as she crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in her seat. Colonel Phillips set the tray of food down onto the table and spun it around before gesturing towards the unoccupied chair across from them. “Sit down.”
With obvious trepidation, Zola followed his order and sat, his brow arching as he looked down at the steak, potatoes, broccoli and glass of milk laid out before him. “What is this?”
“Steak.”
“What is in it?”
“Cow!” Colonel Phillips looked incredulously between (Y/N) and Zola. “Doctor, do you realize how difficult it is to get ahold of a prime cut like that out here?”
The Swiss doctor shrugged. “I don’t eat meat.”
“Why not?”
Taken aback by (Y/N)’s pointed question, Zola fidgeted in his seat and replied, “It disagrees with me.”
“How about cyanide? Does that give you the rumbly tummy, too?”
While Zola’s brow furrowed in confusion, Colonel Phillips spun the tray back around and used the utensils to begin cutting into the steak as (Y/N) continued. “Every Hydra agent that we’ve tried to take alive has crunched a little pill before we can stop him, but not you.”
The colonel hummed in agreement as he feasted on the tray of food, raising his fork in the air and glancing over at (Y/N) with a look of exaggerated curiosity on his wrinkled face. “Here’s my brilliant theory, Agent (Y/L/N): he wants to live.”
“You’re trying to intimidate me, Colonel.” Zola’s beady eyes flicked between them as a sheen of sweat slowly covered his balding head, obviously growing anxious under the strain of his imprisonment and their unconventional interrogation.
Colonel Phillips scoffed. “We bought you dinner. Why don’t we cut to the chase and show Doctor Zola here what’s in that file?”
While the colonel cut the steamed potatoes into quarters, (Y/N) withdrew a single piece of paper from the file and slid it across the table, her red-lacquered nails drumming on the tabletop as she watched the Swiss doctor read the typed mission report aloud. “‘…and in exchange for his full cooperation, Doctor Zola is being remanded to Switzerland…’”
“I sent that message to Washington this morning. Of course, it was encoded.” (Y/N) leaned forward, resting her elbows on the tabletop, and fixed Zola with an unwavering stare. “You guys haven’t broken those codes, have you? That would be awkward.”
Zola’s expression remained neutral, but the lines between his brows were visibly deeper and she could practically see the wheels turning inside his head while he carefully considered his predicament. “Schmidt will know this is a lie.”
“He’s going to kill you anyway, doc.” Colonel Phillips punctuated his blunt reply with a shrug. “You’re a liability. You know more about Schmidt than anyone and the last guy you cost us was Captain Rogers’ closest friend, so I wouldn’t count on the very best of protection.” The sound of Bucky’s scream as he fell from the train and into the deep chasm below played on a loop in (Y/N)’s mind, forcing her to dig her nails into the skin of her palms to keep from reacting, an action she was no stranger to as a woman serving in a secretive branch of the Allied armed forces but one that she hated having to perform in the wake of her friend’s death. “It’s you or Schmidt; it’s just the hand you’ve been dealt.”
The Swiss doctor, taking note of the colonel’s grim tone and the obvious tension in (Y/N)’s shoulders, huffed out a humorless chuckle before nodding once and stating, “Schmidt believes he walks in the footsteps of the gods. Only the world itself will satisfy him.”
“You do realize that’s nuts, don’t you?”
Shaking his head, Zola huffed out a humorless chuckle at the colonel’s comment. “The sanity of the plan is of no consequence.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because he can do it!”
(Y/N), losing patience with Zola and his feeble attempts at providing them with answers, snapped out, “What’s his target?”
When Zola’s beady eyes focused on hers, a shiver of foreboding traveled up (Y/N)’s spine and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to look away as he simply replied, “His target…is everywhere.”
“He told us everything we needed to know; the exact coordinates of Schmidt’s secret base in the Alps, a detailed run-down of Schmidt’s plan to bomb over half a dozen of the world’s largest cities, how much time we had before Hydra’s scheduled attack on New York…and within twenty-four hours, Schmidt was dead and Hydra was finally defeated.” (Y/N)’s fingers were wrapped tightly around her now-empty cup and she was leaning against Jack’s side, taking comfort in her boyfriend’s sturdy form as she spoke in the lowest tone she could and kept a wary eye on Peggy across the waiting room. “But there was something about his eyes, like he knew some big secret that the colonel and I could never understand, and I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something we missed.” Swallowing thickly, she finally looked over at Jack and met his empathetic gaze. “That’s crazy, right?”
Jack shook his head. “Definitely not. Listen, Specs, we might’ve both served on opposite ends of the world, but all the horrible shit we saw and lived through during the war? It hasn’t broken us. We’re still here, and our experiences matter because they’re what shaped us into the people we are today: people who dedicated their lives to making this screwed-up world a better place.” The corner of his lip curved into a small smile as he affectionately bumped the side of her head with his own. “You were the one who taught me that.”
Looking into his clear blue eyes, (Y/N) felt the stiffness in her shoulders begin to melt away and she couldn’t fight the smile that slowly made its way onto her face. “I’m a pretty good teacher, aren’t I?”
“Oh, hands-down, the smartest and most gorgeous teacher I’ve ever had.” Her boyfriend’s flirtatious wink forced (Y/N) to mask her giggle with a cough and flash several of the waiting room’s occupants an apologetic look while he quietly continued. “If you think that Zola’s up to no good, then I believe you. There’s no easy way to handle a situation as delicate as Operation Paperclip; all we can do is our best and in this case, the best that we can do is to keep a close eye on him and every other scumbag Nazi scientist that they’ve recruited. How’s that sound, Specs?”
She took a deep breath and gave him a firm nod. “Like a pretty solid game plan, Flyboy.”
Before either of them could say another word, the double doors leading into the hospital’s operating room swung open and Howard strode into the waiting room, a grin on his face as he made a bee-line over to where Peggy stood. “Michael’s been wheeled into a recovery room and all preliminary signs are pointin’ to a successful operation. Your brother’s gonna be just fine, Peg.”
The younger woman’s anxious expression was overtaken by a look of overwhelming relief and she didn’t hesitate to throw her arms around the inventor in a tight hug. The rest of the waiting room collectively released the grateful breath that they’d been holding for hours and while the SOE officers and SSR officials talked amongst themselves, Jack wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss onto her temple; she closed her eyes and as she took comfort in her boyfriend’s supportive touch, she spoke a silent word of thanks to the universe for Michael’s successful surgery and for sending her a supportive and understanding partner in the form of Jack Grant Thompson.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: They're gonna have their hands full keeping an eye on Zola and the other Hydra scientists 👀 Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I've created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I'll be updating it every time I upload a new one-shot! Enjoy!
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0iKzLZlEK1rTaSIiW5zRlk?si=483950cfa991442a
“Tales From The SSR” Masterlist
“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist
Tagging: @nnon-it-up @hufflefluffy @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @coffeeandcrimeshows @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @fannyspammy @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @nincompoopydoo @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley @mostclevermiss @crowleysqueenofhell @groovyqueer @xxruinaxxmcu
#tales from the ssr#specs and the flyboy#jack thompson x reader#jack thompson x f!reader#peggy carter x daniel sousa#edwin jarvis x ana jarvis#jack thompson#agent thompson#peggy carter#agent carter#daniel sousa#chief sousa#michael carter#howard stark#edwin jarvis#ana jarvis#arnim zola#johann schmidt#red skull#chester phillips#colonel phillips#strategic scientific reserve#marvel cinematic universe
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I follow you on AO3 and I love your writing! I was wondering if you had any recommendations for Jack Thompson fics? So I can read something until your next amazing fic comes out 🥰
omg thank you so much anon! you’re so kind! I’ve been using some time to work on my fics that have a due date (the bucky barnes valentine exchange i’m running and an x-files fanfic exchange), but i have a jack thompson fic on my list that hopefully will be written soon!
i’ve done two other fic rec posts, so i’ll link those here: fic rec 1 // fic rec 2 - those stories are so amazing and i would just be repeating the same thing over and over, so it’s easier for me to just link them.
i’m also going to link my jack thompson masterlist on tumblr, because there’s a plethora of fics that i’ve posted on tumblr that never made it to ao3, including some ficlets and headcanons. you can find all of my oneshots on tumblr as well, and a few of my multichapter things (not half bad is 60k words, so that’s really the only one not on tumblr)
other than that, there’s a few people i can tell you about:
@marvel-jackt-loki-buck has written a jack thompson smut fic. smut isn’t really my cup of tea, so i haven’t read it, but if that’s your thing, definitely check it out (as long as you’re over 18!!!!!)
@swan-of-sunrise has a multichapter jack thompson fic in progress right now, called “specs and the flyboy.” this one is on my “to read’ list and i am going find the time read it, even if i end up graduating college first. if you’re looking for multichapter and canon divergence, then check it out!
other than that, i’m not really sure. i’m a pretty busy person and i often sacrifice potential reading time to write, but i’m trying read more marvel fic this year. i have a queue system set up for fic recs (my queue is currently empty lol) and if anyone writes a jack fic they want me to check out, please let me know! there’s definitely not enough fic for him out there 💕💕
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We’ll Be Home For Christmas 1.1
Title: We’ll be home for Christmas
Day One – A Tale of a Fateful Trip – Part 1
(Prologue)
Author: Gumnut
8 Dec 2019
Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS
Rating: Teen
Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.
Word count: 3490
Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Minor various ships, mostly background.
Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.
Author’s note: For @scattergraph
This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic and it is a big one ::headdesk:: I hope you enjoy it. I know I have thoroughly enjoyed researching a gorgeous corner of this planet.
Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to @onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.
And as always, thank you all for creating such a fantastic fandom. Thundernerds rock! I hope you all have a wonderful festive season. Thank you all so much for everything.
Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.
-o-o-o-
Day One: A Tale of a Fateful Trip
Virgil was miserable.
Pain was minimal as long as he didn’t move too much. He didn’t really even need any of the painkillers that he was given to take with him at the hospital. It was just that he knew his brothers were tired, and despite the attractions of the beautiful city of Auckland, all they really wanted to do was go home.
His brothers could quite easily do just that. The ‘birds were at the local GDF base, it would be a matter of minutes and they would be home. But Virgil wasn’t allowed off the ground, they wouldn’t risk him and they wouldn’t leave him behind, no matter how many times he told them to do just that.
The glare Scott raked him with the last time he suggested it had been scathing.
Didn’t make him feel any better.
Grandma, of course, sensed his sadness and was known to slip up behind the couch he was chained to and wrap her arms around him. She kissed his hair and mumbled reassuring words in his ear.
He was ever so grateful, but he was still miserable.
Balled up cartridge paper lay about his feet. His pencil just wouldn’t create anything of value. Creating gave him a boost, and he desperately wanted to feel something positive, so he persisted, but the pile of balled up paper at his feet just got bigger and in the end he threw the pad and pencil aside, wincing when the pencil hit the table and likely destroyed the lead inside.
With a groan he levered his feet onto the couch and curled up into a flinching ball of misery.
His brain conveniently listed off all the positives about his life, everything he should be thankful for and all the reasons he shouldn’t be feeling sorry for himself. That just made him angry and annoyed that he was so pathetic.
God, he hated this.
He wasn’t really that ill. Just had some small difficulty moving and couldn’t fly to go home.
His family was suffering and it was all his damn fault.
“Hey, Virg?” The voice was soft, but it was definitely Scott testing to see if he was awake.
“What?” So he was grumpy, big deal.
“You’re awake.”
Well, yeah. He didn’t answer that.
Scott edged into his line of sight. Maybe his brother sensed his foul mood.
Of course, that thought just made him feel worse. The word ‘burden’ came to mind.
He closed his eyes, took a second, and then forced himself once again upright. Familiar hands reached into help, gently holding his shoulders until he was steady. “I’m fine.”
Scott shifted the detritus over on the coffee table and sat down in front of Virgil, his long frame folding neatly and a lot smoother than Virgil had any hope of achieving at the moment. “How would you like to go home?”
Virgil looked up at him. “How? I can’t fly.”
“Flight is only one way to get to Tracy Island.” He smiled. “We have a very versatile aquanaut on our team.”
Virgil stared at him. “Thunderbird Four? It’s just as pressurised as Two. Carries the same risks.”
The smile softened. “No, Virgil, Gordon can pilot more than a submarine. He’s bought us a boat.”
“A boat?”
“Actually, technically it is a yacht and a luxury one at that.” Gordon’s grin was broad and eager as he entered the room. “All aboard for Tracy Island, bro. She’s got all the perks and enough under the hood to get us there in time for Christmas.”
Virgil stared at him. Then stared at Scott. “Really?”
Scott’s smile was a sight. “I really don’t know why we didn’t think of it earlier.”
“Because all you pilot types live in the clouds.” Gordon strode up to his eldest brother and dug him one in the ribs before turning to Virgil. “So, what do you say, Virg? Up for a little cruise? Should take us about three days. Kayo and Grandma have gone Christmas shopping and will likely haul half of New Zealand’s food supply back in Two. Scott’s already stashed One and Tracy Two can stay until we need to pick her up.” Gordon had obviously worked out all the details. His brother was literally bouncing where he stood. But then it wasn’t often the aquanaut got to ferry his family around.
Virgil stared at his brothers. “Us three?”
Scott’s smile became a grin. “No, us five. All of us.”
“Five bachelors cruising on the open sea.” Gordon waved his hand across the room as if peering into a far horizon.
Virgil arched an eyebrow at him. All of them. All five brothers. Together. On a boat. For three days. His gaze turned to Scott. “You sure you want to do this?”
There was something in his brother’s blue eyes. “I’m sure.”
Virgil straightened where he sat. Surprisingly, he felt lighter, more positive. Could be the energy radiating off Gordon. His brother was always a bucket of sunshine in the rain. “Okay. When do we leave?”
“Yes.” Gordon actually fist pumped the air. Virgil couldn’t help but grin. “Now, big bro, pack your bags, we are going now.”
Virgil’s eyes widened. “Now?” That explained why he had been alone all morning.
But Scott had already started moving, Virgil’s meagre pile of supplies being shoved into the overnight bag that had sufficed for his hospital stay. “Well, we want to be home for Christmas, so we have to get going.”
Virgil moved to stand up.
Gordon stepped in front of him. “Hey, no, you stay there. This is a full service operation, Virg. We’ve got this.”
Another arched eyebrow was an answer to that, but Gordon was as good as his word and before Virgil could think twice, he was in a car, luggage in the trunk and on his way to the docks.
-o-o-o-
Scott was tired. It had been a long...well, everything. International Rescue never stopped, Tracy Industries never stopped and apparently, his brothers never stopped.
Virgil had scared him.
Okay, so nowadays appendicitis was a mild inconvenience, but in the past it was a killer and a painful and sudden one at that. Perhaps it was because it was something innocuous, something not related to a rescue and so out of the blue that it knocked Scott around so badly. But what worried him more was that his brother had ignored the warning signs of serious illness in favour of International Rescue. It wasn’t the first time and he wasn’t the only one of the brothers to do such a thing. Hell, Scott himself had done it. Lives had been saved despite injury and illness many times. But perhaps this was a louder warning. Perhaps they should be taking better care of themselves.
Grandma’s scathing words had driven it home. The Tracys were taking this Christmas off. They were due the time, they were tired, Virgil was ill. Any of those three on their own were cause for concern. All three together forced their matriarch to lay down the law.
Scott knew his place.
And she was right.
But their dilemma was a frustrating one. None of his brothers, particularly John, could fully relax away from home. There were celebrity issues to begin with, and this forced idleness rankled badly.
So, when Gordon suggested they go home via sea, Scott jumped on the idea wondering why he hadn’t thought of it earlier. Three days on the ocean. They would still be idle, but they would be away from restrictions, out beneath the blue sky and they could be home for Christmas.
And how long had it been since all five of them had been together like that? Had it happened since they were children on one of Dad’s road trips?
Scott swallowed as the car with himself, Virgil and Gordon made its way down to the docks. The sight of the ocean lifted his spirits more than he would ever admit to his aquanaut brother.
The vehicle slipped through a security checkpoint and into a private area.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” Gordon was bouncing again, this time in his seat. The aquanaut was going to have the time of his life over this little trip. Scott couldn’t help but smile at his happiness.
And yes, the boat was a gorgeous craft, even to a flyboy like himself. She had clean lines and looked fast sitting still. White with a streak of yellow down her length...no doubt, very recently applied along with the name on her bow, A Little Lightning.
She was large, but not huge. Just big enough for five tired brothers to live in comfort and fly fast over the waves.
Gordon was spouting off her specs to a politely interested Virgil. Scott tilted his head to one side...no, that spark in his engineer brother’s eyes spoke of genuine curiosity. Scott smirked just a little. Might need to watch Virg for the first couple of days to keep him out of the engine. He could pull it apart and put it back together once they were home and he was better.
Scott lent his brother a hand to get out of the car. He was still walking slowly, careful of his incisions, but he was a touch straighter than a couple days ago and he was off medication - though that was no surprise. Getting him to take any medication at any time was a challenge.
“She’s beautiful, Gordon. How did you find her so fast?”
Their brother grinned. “I have friends, Virg. You know, those people you can share a drink with from time to time.”
Virgil’s flat eyed glare was more fond than exasperated. “How much money did you throw at these friends?”
A shrug was all the answer he gave. “It’s worth it.”
“Give me a number and I’ll throw it your way.” Virgil was sincerity itself.
“Forget it, bro. Not required.” The hand waved in Virgil’s direction was entirely dismissive. “Just have a look, Virg. This girl has speed!” And the discussion devolved into specs again as the two of them walked towards the pier.
Hmm, apparently, Scott was cabin boy today.
To be honest, he didn’t care.
Loading himself with luggage, he followed their slow progress onto the dock.
-o-o-o-
John wasn’t much of a sailor, but when Gordon suggested the trip, he jumped on it.
Out in the middle of the ocean he could see the stars unhindered, it would be quiet except for the wind, water and their boat and, to be honest, it would be good to just be with his brothers uninterrupted.
And besides, on Earth, the ocean was the closest he could get to the weightless freedom of space.
So the astronaut was happy to help prep the boat. Being a resident of Tracy Island required at least some marine knowledge for safety’s sake and it felt good to exercise it for a change.
Alan was a little less enthusiastic until John mentioned a new video game recently released in beta. He had meant to mention it to his littlest brother some weeks ago, but life got in the way. Years ago, the two of them used to tackle each other in various games and they hadn’t done so in ages. John had contributed to this game at the request of a couple of associates from college. It was a high level space simulator matched with an adventure storyline. It should have a good enough mix of reality and fantasy to keep the hi-octane teenager amused in those moments of too much quiet.
Gordon had already allocated some time to some extra-curricular activities around the Kermadec Island group south of Tracy Island, so there would be plenty of the softer sciences to go around somewhere in their second day of the voyage.
John smiled at Gordon’s reaction to the term ‘softer sciences’. He hadn’t known his younger brother actually knew the definition of the word he used. Then again usage didn’t always prove understanding. A few more words in Swedish at a later date should clarify that situation.
As he placed the last of their food supplies into refrigeration, he heard the first distant rumble of a familiar voice, followed by the excited chatter of his aquanaut brother.
His smile widened and he made his way out onto the deck. Virgil had an arm tight against his belly, but his expression was excited as Gordon rabbited on about the engine specifications of his new boat.
Well, John, Alan and Scott had contributed to the cost of the boat, but it really was Gordon’s regardless. None of them really cared about it other than it getting them and their brothers home safely. Gordon was the one who loved a good ocean-going vessel and this was definitely a brilliant contender.
John rolled his eyes at Virgil as he offered him a hand getting onboard and his brother grinned at him. A few solid steps and the engineer got his feet securely on the boat. His brown eyes caught John’s and he suddenly found himself caught in one of his bear hugs. Perhaps not as rigorous as usual, but just as warm.
John couldn’t help, but hug back.
“Hey, where’s mine? This was my idea, after all.”
Virgil laughed and wrapped his arms around Gordon. “Thanks, fishy.” It was brief, but all three men were grinning as the two brothers separated.
“Well, that’s sweet and all, but some of us have to work for a living.” John smirked as Scott arrived at the water’s edge draped in luggage. A quick leap onto the dock and he helped him shed bags and the odd suitcase and with Gordon’s help, lug them onto the yacht.
Virgil was hugging Alan, who had emerged from the cabin.
John nudged Scott. Under his breath, “He okay?”
“Seems happy enough about the boat.” A sigh. “Looked miserable enough to sink it before I told him.”
“Let’s hope it cheers him up.”
“Let’s hope it cheers us all up. It’s Christmas, for crying out loud.” Scott grabbed the bag with Virgil’s art equipment, which had been added to without the artist’s knowledge and clambered onto the boat and headed in the direction of the cabin assigned to Virgil.
Gordon had dragged Virgil up to what he called ‘The Bridge’, what Scott called ‘The Cockpit’ and what was blatantly and obviously the control centre of the yacht - it would be flyboys versus fish for the entire voyage, no doubt. Said fish could be heard still babbling excitedly to his engineer brother.
John made a note to rescue the invalid if necessary.
Between John and Scott, they unloaded the last pieces of luggage and sent the driver on his way with a generous tip. John ran the supplies list through his head. Gordon had managed all the permits and regulations an international voyage by sea required and there were quite a few. There was less red tape in space.
Of course, when your daughter is an AI, the red tape moves just that little faster. And yes, he did smile to himself. He couldn’t help it.
-o-o-o-
A Little Lightning left dock just after the tide turned midafternoon. It would have been better to leave early in the morning, but time was what it was and they set out when they could. It had been decided that between the autopilot and four out of five brothers and no, Virgil, you are not piloting this ship, so forget it, they could make up the time overnight.
“It’s a boat, Scott.”
“Semantics, Gordon.”
“Reality, Scott.”
Virgil rolled his eyes. “Are we going to hear this discussion the entire way?” He had stashed himself in a comfortable seat at the back of the ‘bridge’. He had a great view of Waitemata Harbour as they cruised slowly past the CBD of Auckland itself. The weather was fantastic and the sea calm as glass. The forecast said the same for the next three days and the only stormy hints were in his brothers’ eyes.
“Regardless of the type of craft, Virgil, you aren’t able to drive a car at the moment, much less pilot a boat.” Emphasis was put on the word ‘boat’ as his eldest brother glared like a petulant child at his aquanaut brother.
“Fine. I’ll be chauffeured.”
Gordon snorted as he directed the yacht between past an incoming liner. “Now you know how it feels.”
“Know what feels?”
“Not being allowed to drive.”
Virgil glared at his brother, but couldn’t think of an adequate retort.
Alan snickered.
“Shut up, Alan.” Okay, so perhaps Gordon had a point. “She’s my ‘bird, Gordon.”
“It’s okay, Virg. We understand, don’t we, guys.” Gordon grinned back at him. John smiled. Alan rolled his eyes.
Scott shrugged. “I don’t have a problem. Virgil doesn’t hesitate to let me fly Thunderbird Two.”
“You’re hardly ever on Two.”
“So? Virgil doesn’t have a problem with me flying Two, do you Virg?”
Four pairs of eyes stared at him in challenge, but not all from the same perspective.
“Er...”
“You think Scott is a better pilot that the rest of us?” Alan was always the direct one.
Virgil opened his mouth, but his eldest brother beat him to it. “I am a better pilot than all of you.”
“What?!” It was an offended scoff from the two youngest.
“Though I will admit that you each have your specialities with your ‘birds. Virgil is much better with Two than I am, for example.”
“And you are totally pathetic in Four, let me tell you.” Gordon was staring out across the bow, but there was still a smirk on his face.
“Excuse me?”
“Who buried my girl in sea sludge recently?”
“That was unavoidable.”
Gordon spun on the spot. “What?! You’re still claiming you had no choice? I gave you recommendations on comms, you ignored them and look what happened, oh mighty pilot. You may be the greatest in the air, but you suck underwater, Scott, face it.”
“And I can run rings around you in Three, trust me on that.” Alan folded his arms and stuck his nose in the air.
“Hey!” Virgil shouted and cut off the discussion. “What the hell? You’re all damn good and fine pilots, no matter the craft. So, I’m a control freak with my girl. You’re all the same. When was the last time I piloted any of your craft? I’m fully trained and fully capable as any of you are, but she is my ‘bird and while I’m alive and kicking, I will fly her. That is no reflection on your capability, only on mine. And for god’s sake, get over it.”
Okay, so he got a little angry. It wasn’t his best attempt at diffusing an argument, ever, but the dumb ass looks directed at him were at least silent ones.
“Now stop fighting and let us enjoy this trip.” He blinked. “And Gordon, you might want to avoid that oncoming container ship.”
The aquanaut jumped and the yacht swerved as he shifted her quickly to the left to give way to the massive cargo carrier bearing down on them. The sharp dirge of the ship’s horn emphasised her captain’s ire at their deviation into his vessel’s path.
“Sorry!”
It was a vain apologetic gesture of his little brother’s part. It did put an effective end to their argument nonetheless.
There were many islands at the mouth of Auckland’s main harbour and it was extremely scenic, particularly the volcanoes.
Virgil was intimately familiar with volcanic structures and had visited several as part of IR, he understood their power and had witnessed it first hand, but the artist in him never failed to be caught by their symmetry and their mystery. They still caught his imagination and stunned him.
As they accelerated around the islands and out into the bay proper, the sea opened out into a beautifully flat expanse of watery blue. They were still surrounded on all sides by distant patches of green. Another little volcanic island reared up and they cruised past. A couple of dolphins danced along in the wake at their bow. John helped Virgil climb up the stairs to the railing at the front of the boat. He twinged several times, but ignored it despite the frown of Scott following up behind him.
It was worth it to stand up the front, the wind in his hair, a brother either side of him. The last of the islands passed by and the ocean opened up in front of them.
Dolphins continued to keep them company.
Both Scott and John kept a grip on an arm each, wary of him stressing himself in any way. Virgil turned his face into the wind and closed his eyes, letting the sensations fill his mind.
“Better?” It was a whisper from Scott, barely heard above the rush of air over his ears.
Virgil smiled.
“Better.”
-o-o-o-
End Day One, Part One.
Day One, Part Two
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#Virgil Tracy#Scott Tracy#Gordon Tracy#John Tracy#Alan Tracy
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The Ultimate Guide To The Bomber Jacket
http://fashion-trendin.com/the-ultimate-guide-to-the-bomber-jacket/
The Ultimate Guide To The Bomber Jacket
A ‘bomber’ has become an umbrella term for a jacket practically every man has in his wardrobe these days: short, zip or button-up, cropped hems, knitted cuffs, a little attitude and a lot of versatility. However, there are many variations of the bomber jacket and this broad, undefined brushstroke it’s been painted with belies its original functionality and purpose; which was to serve pilots in the military.
But the bomber jacket – in all its mutations – has become much more than a relic of time-gone-by; it’s shed its war-time skin and become one of the most popular outerwear pieces of all time. It has featured in numerous classic films, been adopted on and off-screen by everyone from Marlon Brando to Ryan Gosling, and played a part in the uniforms of countless subcultures and style tribes. In short: never in the field of menswear has so much been owed by so many.
“The [bomber jacket’s] silhouette is universally flattering,” Alexandre Mattiussi, founder of young Parisian label Ami, tells FashionBeans. “It’s cinched in at the waist while keeping a broad shoulder, and it’s also immensely practical. It’s perfect as a mid-season piece – not as heavy as a coat and can be layered, so it’s versatile.”
The History Of The Bomber Jacket
The bomber jacket is just one of many menswear pieces with a heritage entrenched within the armed forces. Similar to the peacoat, trench coat and parka, the bomber has a timeless appeal that transcends seasons and trends; it was born out of military means and has adapted to form part of popular culture.
The first iteration of this endlessly cool jacket can be traced back to the 1920s. Before this, airmen wore longer, heavyweight shearling jackets that kept them warm – cockpits were open-air at this point – but were largely impractical. The hem needed to be shortened to allow increased movement when piloting, cuffs needed to be knitted to restrict airflow up the arms, and large pockets needed to be added for essential airborne items.
America’s answer was the US Army Type A-1, which was first issued in 1927. From then on, the basic bomber recipe was set. In the successive years, the A-1 was altered and reinvigorated in various forms, from the A-2 that followed in 1931 with its zip, button snaps and leather collar, to the nylon MA-1 introduced in the 1950s.
The bomber’s popularity with civilians is not surprising, especially when you consider the cultural icons pictured in one. Think Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire, Steve McQueen in The Great Escape or Tom Cruise in Top Gun. These films placed the bomber jacket in starring roles.
The bomber has also long been associated with skinheads, from the 1980s-era subculture itself to Ewan McGregor’s Mark Renton wearing a khaki version in the opening scene of Trainspotting. More recently, style icons from Ryan Gosling to Kanye West to David Beckham have worn it, the jacket if your look is preppy, hip-hop, Scandi, sports luxe or streetwear.
Key Bomber Jacket Designs
A-1
The A-1 was the first mass-produced flight jacket to be issued to the US Army in 1927. Early pieces were made from tough sheep leather and lined with cotton, with later models being cut from goatskin or horsehide. Uniquely, the jacket featured a button-up front, a characteristic much less common today. A knitted collar, cuffs and waistband were also integral to the jacket’s flyboy cool, as were the two large flap pockets at the hip.
Headwind MFG Co USAAC A-1 Flying Jacket
Irvin Flying Jacket
The ‘Irvin’ RAF Flying Jacket was Britain’s answer to the US bomber and the first iteration of the shearling pilot jacket that would keep thousands of pilots warm during the Second World War. First produced in 1931, the Irvin was fully lined and featured a wider fit to accommodate heavy knitwear underneath. Despite being close to a century old, its belted waist, zip-up cuffs and large collar continue to inspire designers today.
Imperial War Museum RAF Irvin Flying Jacket
A-2
The successor to the A-1 bomber, the A-2 differed by boasting a zip front as opposed to buttons, a leather collar as opposed to knitted, and shoulder epaulettes. It remains one of the most recognisable bomber jacket styles, though more modern takes have removed the epaulettes on the shoulders and simplified the pocket designs, giving the jacket a neater silhouette and more contemporary feel.
Cockpit USA 40th Anniversary A-2 Flight Jacket
G-1
Based on the M422A model that came before it, the G-1 jacket of the 1940s looks similar to the A-1, with the most notable departure being the addition of a sheepskin collar. Another classic bomber style that has been replicated numerous times in the decades that followed it, the G-1 was utilised in the military even up until the Korean War in the 1950s. Menswear doesn’t get much more masculine than this.
Cockpit USA U.S. Navy Issue Mil Spec G-1 Jacket
MA-1
First taking flight in 1950, the MA-1 re-wrote the bomber rulebook. A consequence of cost-saving measures and the rise of jet air travel, the MA-1 was made from lightweight nylon and featured a distinctive bright orange lining to allow stranded pilots a way to become more visible to allies. Characterised by a simple zip front, slanted flap pockets and a zip arm pocket, the MA-1 is the most recognisable bomber style and its subtle swagger has seen it widely adopted in fashion and streetwear.
Alpha Industries MA-1 Flight Jacket
College/Varsity Jackets
While collegiate jackets shouldn’t technically fall on this list, it could be argued that early bombers heavily influenced the design and, certainly today, they fall under the category according to many designers. Varsity-style jackets boast a similar silhouette to the bomber, worn as a badge of honour by mid-century American students sporting their university’s colours, often with the first letter of the institution pinned to the chest. The style has since graduated to the worlds of hip-hop and streetwear with full menswear honours.
Harvard Varsity Jacket
The Modern Bomber Jacket
Unless you’ve been taking cover under a soundproof rock, you won’t have failed to notice the bomber jacket flying high in recent years. Where other trends run out of fuel after a few seasons, designers continue to pull on the jacket’s practical appeal years after their reintroduction to the masses.
According to Karen Hall, head of design at contemporary menswear label FoR, it’s the bomber’s timeless nature that has ensured it remains a permanent fixture. “It’s probably the most versatile jacket style, which is another reason why it has stood the test of time,” she says. “It’s an iconic menswear piece that over the decades has remained a key jacket in every man’s wardrobe.”
One of the most influential modern designers when it comes to bomber jackets is Kim Jones. During his seven-year stint as the men’s artistic director of Louis Vuitton, Jones propelled the bomber into the limelight, showcasing everything from an orange silk version for spring/summer 2015 to metallic and nylon styles for his final autumn/winter 2018 show.
Other high-end labels, including Burberry, Lanvin and Valentino, started to back the bomber from around 2011, while a second wave of bombers came when cult brands like Vetements and Balenciaga showcased oversized versions of the MA-1 that have since become a staple streetwear silhouette.
Alongside runway appearances, the style has continued to steal scenes on the big screen. Even 007 got on board, with Daniel Craig sporting an Armani bomber jacket for his debut Bond film, 2006’s Casino Royale, while Ryan Gosling became a poster boy for the style when in Drive he threw on that now-infamous silver zip-up jacket with the embroidered scorpion on the back.
Depending on the iteration you go for, it’s possible to authentically reference the jacket’s air force history. But with a slew of designers from high-end to high street interpreting the bomber season after season, it can be worn in whichever way you choose; from formal looks with a shirt and tie to minimalist ensembles.
“Over the past few seasons, [the bomber] has gone through somewhat of a transformation with [styles] now available oversized, fitted, hooded, streetwise or smart,” says Mr Porter style director Olie Arnold.
Ryan Gosling wearing a bomber jacket in Drive (2011)
Ultimately, the bomber jacket is what you make of it. Regardless of your style, there’ll be one to suit your look, especially given that it’s also available in an increasingly broad selection of fabrics, from velvet and satin to soft moleskin.
The Weeknd perhaps summed it up best, when he told Billboard in 2017, “For my generation, the bomber jacket is like a replacement for the suit jacket. It’s a piece that men wear every day, and it’s something that I would wear for any occasion, whether it’s on the street or going to an awards ceremony. For me, bomber jackets are smart, but they are also street and have a lot of attitude.”
Bomber Jacket Style Tips
Stick To The Classics
The proportions of the bomber jacket shift subtly from season to season according to trends but, as Ami’s Mattiussi says, a classically shaped bomber in a timeless fabric is always going to last. “Layered with a roll neck, or over an untucked shirt is how I imagine they’re worn by the cool kids.”
If In Doubt, Go Minimal
While details such as zipper pull rings and map linings once served an essential purpose, some of the best modern takes on the bomber jacket have such additions stripped away. The primary benefit of skewing minimal with your jacket is that it becomes even easier and more versatile to wear, especially if you’re attempting to make it smart.
Watch Out Below
Owing to the neat lines of the bomber’s cropped body, it’s a jacket that can serve as the perfect co-pilot to a range of trouser fits. However, arguably it looks best when balanced out with slim-fitting and cropped styles, either in a tonal or contrasting shade.
Experiment With Tailoring
With traditional suits falling out of favour in recent years thanks to menswear’s new relaxed direction, the bomber jacket has stepped up and established itself as a viable alternative to full tailoring. Try using one in place of a blazer, pair with a T-shirt or lightweight knit and finish with sneakers.
5 Key Bomber Jacket Styles
Navy Minimal MA-1
Undoubtedly the easiest form of bomber to wear, a pared-back version of the MA-1 jacket in navy should be at the top of your list. With a slimmer body and no zip pocket on the upper arm, this minimal take can be worn with selvedge denim, tailored trousers, tracksuit bottoms, wide-leg chinos – the choice is yours.
Leather
A leather jacket might seem like an obvious choice, but care should still be taken when choosing to invest. It’s easy to get it wrong with leather, so aim for a quality hide that will get better with age, in a fit that is slim but not restricting.
Suede
Suede has never really been unpopular when it comes to outerwear, but it’s never been particularly convenient either. Don’t let constant fears of sudden downpours put you off though – few jackets are cooler than a suede bomber. This is also your chance to play with colour because the dull lustre of the fabric somewhat mutes brighter tones.
College/Varsity Jacket
The college or varsity jacket is an easy way to inject a youthful edge to any look – simply throw one on over a pair of jeans and trainers, and you’re good to go. This style has had something of a renaissance in recent years, with numerous brands taking the classic template and making it their own.
Statement
Outerwear always offers a good chance to make a statement, and the bomber jacket is no different. Whether you opt for an embroidered souvenir jacket or go oversized, just remember to keep the rest of your outfit clean and simple to avoid flying into comedy territory.
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When last we covered AVI-8 (you know, just yesterday) we were introducing you to their new Centenary collection, which is focused in on historical references, rather than pulling ideas from gauge clusters and the like. In that 1920s review, I teased that we had a review coming up of the AVI-8 Flyboy Centenary 1940. Well, dear reader, today is your lucky day, because we’re delivering on that promise right here and now.
It should surprise no one that I requested to see the blue-dialed version of the AVI-8 Flyboy Centenary 1940 (ref AV-4059-02). There is just something about a crisp blue and white dial (particularly when set into a steel case) that just feels right. Speaking of cases, this appears (to my highly uncalibrated eye) to be the same case as we saw on the 1920 – 42mm, 12mm thick, sapphire crystal, etc, etc. It makes sense, particularly as they’re housing the same movement (an automatic Miyota 8218) in a cost-savings manner, as well as a design language continuity.
That then begs the question, what makes the AVI-8 Flyboy Centenary 1940 different from the 1920? Well, first and foremost, it’s that dial. While the 1920s (LINK) had that vintage art deco look, here, we’ve got very much more of a flinger-style feel with the handset, double-dotted triangle, no-nonsense numerals on the sector dial, as well as the diamond crown. That means that – if I had to guess – this is the reference that is going to resonate a good bit more with buyers, as it’s the more familiar look.
Though, it’s not completely familiar. The AVI-8 Flyboy Centenary 1940 does bring a sector dial to the party, which is something we don’t commonly see on a flieger. AVI-8 also pulled one of their favorite tricks out of the bag by putting a texture on the dial, which gives things a nice variation, as well as scattering the light that it reflects. Like on the 1920s, there is additional text (brand and model family), but it works here with their standard font.
Also improved on the AVI-8 Flyboy Centenary 1940? The strap. It’s a grayish padded strap, much more comfortable than the one I experienced on the 1920s. It’s still not as high of a quality as if you visited the aftermarket, but it is a good sight nicer than the one on the 1920s. And the grey color they went with for it? Spot on with that blue dial.
Given that the case is the same, I found the AVI-8 Flyboy Centenary 1940 a comfortable day-to-day companion as well. It didn’t hurt that blue and grey fit in with my ensemble fairly well, and the watch itself – though it does have it’s own little details to set it apart – is one that can fly under the radar, so to speak. And while the white on blue color scheme may not be quite as contrasty as white on black, it still is an eminently readable watch. And I can’t fault the inclusion of a darker date wheel either, which is not as common at the price point this watch goes at.
Speaking of price – the AVI-8 Flyboy Centenary 1940 is going to be carrying a retail price tag of $340. Just as with the 1920s version, there’s going to be a two-phase pre-order period that is going to drop the price a bit (we’ve not been told how much as of yet). The regular pre-order period is going to launch on March 7th, with general availability occurring on March 22nd. Now, if you pre-order, you will get a discount. However, if you visit this page between February 13th and February 19th, you’ll be able to sign up (not to pre-order, but to indicate interest) which will net you an additional discount on top of the pre-order savings.
With that, we’ll wrap things up on these watches. If you’re thinking about pre-ordering but have questions, feel free to pop on over to our Slack channel, and I’ll do my best to answer whatever might be on your mind with these watches. And hey, even if you aren’t thinking about ordering one of these, join us over on Slack anyways. There’s some great discussions going on over there, and we’d love to have you. AVI-8.CO.UK
Watch Overview
Brand & Model: AVI-8 Flyboy Centenary 1940
Price: $340 (MSRP)
Who we think it might be for: You want a vintage-styled aviator that still feels modern
Would I buy one for myself based on what I’ve seen? Yes, I could see that with this one
If I could make one design suggestion, it would be: One wonders what this would look like on a bracelet…
What spoke to me the most about this watch: That blue-and-white dial
Tech Specs from AVI-8
Movement: Miyota 8218 automatic (21 jewels)
Case:
316L stainless steel
Diameter: 42mm
Thickness: 12mm
Lug width: 22mm
Crystal: Sapphire
Dial:
Colored Patterned Dial in linen, blue, or black
Deep Embossed Indexes with LumiNova (the linen dial version does not have lume on indices)
LumiNova-filled Hands
Crown: Normal
Bezel: Fixed Case Bezel
Strap: leather with tang buckle
Functions: date display, subseconds
WR: 5 ATM
Weight: 80g
Introducing the @avi__8 Flyboy Centenary 1940 #vintage #aviator #watch #preorder #under$500 When last we covered AVI-8 (you know, just yesterday) we were introducing you to their new Centenary collection, which is focused in on historical references, rather than pulling ideas from gauge clusters and the like.
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Over The Moon (Tales From The SSR)
Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day in the West Coast SSR and love is in the air for Daniel and Peggy, who spend the day watching their friends’ fledgling romance flourish and looking back on the beginnings of their own relationship.
Pairing: Peggy Carter X Daniel Sousa, Jack Thompson X Reader
Word Count: 1.4k
Warning/Disclaimers: None
A/N: Hi guys! I’m sorry it’s taken so long for this little one-shot to come out (I had a different one planned but after rewriting it twice, I scrapped it and decided to work on this one) but today, we’re gonna revisit Daniel and Peggy’s relationship from our favorite chief’s POV! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!
Over The Moon
February 1948
West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles
(Previous One-Shot)
“Aw, Peg, you shouldn’t have…”
Peggy simply shrugged her shoulders and smiled as Daniel reverently admired the signed baseball he’d just unwrapped. “It was no trouble at all, Daniel! Mr. Jarvis and I were at one of Howard’s silly parties and we just so happened to run into Mr. Robinson there, along with six of his fellow teammates from the Brooklyn Dodgers. I knew how much you liked the team, so I took advantage of the golden opportunity before me in the name of romance and voilà.”
Daniel grinned and shook his head in loving exasperation, knowing perfectly well that his amazing girlfriend had conned Howard Stark into pulling some strings and getting half the Brooklyn Dodgers to sign a baseball just for him. But there’s not a chance in hell that she’d ever admit to asking Stark for help, he thought with an inward chuckle as he crumpled the heart-patterned wrapping paper into a ball and tossed it into the waste basket across the office, and there’s not a chance in hell that I’ll ever question a ball signed by one of the best players in Major League Baseball. “It’s a very thoughtful gift, honey, definitely the best Valentine’s Day gift I’ve ever received. Thank you.” Daniel leaned in and captured her lips in a sweet kiss, lightly chuckling in embarrassment once they finally separated. “Now I sorta feel like a chump for just getting you that perfume…”
“You shouldn’t, darling; just because I enjoy cleaning and assembling weapons in my spare time doesn’t mean I don’t like smelling good while doing so.” Peggy smiled triumphantly as he laughed. “You took the time to browse my vanity, locate my perfume bottles and use them to determine which of the new perfumes at Bullock’s that I’d be the fondest of. I promise, it was just as thoughtful of a gift as a baseball signed by some of your all-time favorite players.”
A triumphant shout interrupted their next near-kiss, and they both looked out the office windows into the bullpen to see an elated Jack punch the air and scribble something down on a notepad. Sitting at the desk across from him, (Y/N) smiled to herself as she adjusted the vase full of baby-pink roses placed beside her morning cup of tea and continued typing out a case report on her typewriter. Daniel, sensing that there was something unusual going on between his top two agents, furrowed his brow in confusion and turned back to face his girlfriend. “What’s all that about?”
“Oh, (Y/N) thought it would be sweet to write a Valentine’s Day card entirely in code and give it to Jack along with his gift.” The office door was closed but Peggy lowered her voice all the same. “Don’t tell either of them that I said anything, but apparently our dear Jack mentioned to (Y/N) that he really wanted a photograph of her so that he could have something beautiful to brighten up his desk. So, she went down to the portrait studio last week and had one taken to give to him today.”
Sure enough, when Daniel looked back out at the bullpen, he spotted the framed black-and-white photograph of the agency’s top codebreaker and smiled at how carefully the ex-chief propped it against his desk lamp so that he could glance up at it while he decoded. “You don’t say? Are we one-hundred-percent certain she’s dating our Jack Thompson and not some sort of sappy doppelgänger who’s seen one too many Cary Grant flicks?”
Peggy chuckled as she leaned back against his desk. “It is a little hard to believe that the Jack Thompson currently hard at work decoding a declaration of love is the same one I once threatened to shoot. What’s even harder to believe, though, is that we never realized how obviously over the moon they were for one another; Thompson was forced to spell it out for us over the phone when he decided to step down as Chief and relocate to Los Angeles, remember?”
“When you think about it, it’s not really that surprising.” Daniel smirked a little at his girlfriend’s incredulous frown. “C’mon, Peg, how long did it take for us to get our heads out of our asses and finally admit that we were over the moon for each other?”
A light pink blush appeared in Peggy’s cheeks and he could practically see her recalling all those months of quiet pining and longing stares as she fought the smile that was threatening to form on her cherry-red lips. “Perhaps you have a point there, Daniel. Out of curiosity, when was it that you started to have feelings for me?”
“The exact moment? I’m not really sure, but I do know when I realized that I saw you as more than my coworker.” Daniel hung his crutch on its hook and sat down in his desk’s chair. “It wasn’t very long after I joined the SSR and I was having a real bad day that day; I slipped on the steps outside and that caused me to be late, Dooley handed one of my cases over to Thompson, and Krzeminski wouldn’t stop cracking jokes about my leg. But then you came around with the lunch orders and there was a chocolate-chip cookie I definitely didn’t order hidden inside my take-out box; that cookie turned a bad day into an okay one…well, that and when Krzeminski’s desk drawers mysteriously jammed and he fell on his ass trying to pry them open.” They laughed and Daniel smiled up at Peggy as he continued. “That’s when I knew that there was someone in my corner at the SSR, someone who didn’t pity me but who understood better than most anyone what it felt like to be up against the entire world.”
With a gentle smile on her face, Peggy slid down from the desk and took a seat on his lap, one of her arms resting across his shoulders while the other fiddled with the collar of his aloha shirt. “I’d say that I was only doing what anyone else would, but we both know what manner of agents we were working alongside back in New York.”
“You’ve got that right. So, when did you know that you had a thing for me?”
His girlfriend’s smile morphed into something coyer. “All right, I’ll tell you…over dinner tonight.” Daniel groaned in disappointment while she merely chuckled at his dramatics. “Seriously, we really should try and get some sort of work done today, darling; we have half a dozen cases to sign off on, three witnesses to interview for the Olsen case and-oh, for heaven’s sake!”
Daniel followed Peggy’s incredulous eye-line to see Jack and (Y/N) standing by the former’s tidy desk; the codebreaker was whispering something into the agent’s ear and judging by the lopsided grin beginning to form on his lips, it had absolutely nothing to do with work. While a pink-faced Daniel and a smirking Peggy watched, (Y/N) took Jack’s hand in hers and cast a furtive glance around the bullpen before pulling him out into the hall. “…What’re the odds that they’re headed into the supply closet for more typewriter ribbon?”
“About as good as Rose finally joining Samberly for a night on the town,” Peggy quipped, her brown eyes alight with playfulness as she expectantly looked down at him. “So, shall we set a good example for the others and get back to work?”
After pretending to ponder his girlfriend’s question, Daniel suddenly used his good leg to push his rolling desk chair across the office, grinning as Peggy giggled at the unexpected movement and tightened her arm around his shoulders; he grabbed the cord of his window’s Venetian blinds and tugged them closed before moving his hand to cradle the back of Peggy’s neck. “Maybe later. We can’t let Jack and (Y/N) have all the fun, can we, Agent Carter?”
Peggy chuckled and shook her head as her fingers carded through his hair. “We certainly can’t, Chief Sousa.”
Their lips met in a slow and passionate kiss and Daniel sighed at the pleasant sensation of his girlfriend’s crimson nails gently scraping against his scalp, tightening his hold on her and smiling against her red-hued lips as he thanked his lucky stars that he’d finally achieved the honor of being Peggy Carter’s Valentine.
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A/N: Daniel’s so cute lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new one-shot. Enjoy!
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0iKzLZlEK1rTaSIiW5zRlk?si=97af3c9ce3ff4b65
“Tales From The SSR” Masterlist
“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist
Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @coffeeandcrimeshows @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley @mostclevermiss @crowleysqueenofhell @groovy-lady @xxruinaxxmcu
#tales from the ssr#specs and the flyboy#jack thompson x reader#jack thompson#peggy carter x daniel sousa#peggy carter#agent carter#daniel sousa#chief sousa#rose roberts#aloysius samberly#howard stark#edwin jarvis#ana jarvis#edwin jarvis x ana jarvis#strategic scientific reserve#marvel cinematic universe
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This is one epic flying machine! Gorgeous reproduction of the classic P-47D Thunderbolt! Hanger 9 drops this 67 inch wingspan beauty and details on top of details make this a must have on our list! Check out all the specs on RCHUB.com #hanger9 #p47 #p47d #warplane #navy #usnavy #flyboy #model #modelairplane #modelplane #rc #rcplane #rcflight #rcplanes #flying #warplanes #bombers #rchobby #horizonhobby @rchub @horizon_hobby
#rcplanes#modelairplane#rchobby#usnavy#modelplane#flying#p47#rcflight#rc#bombers#model#horizonhobby#warplane#navy#rcplane#hanger9#warplanes#flyboy#p47d
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The Armistice (Tales From The SSR)
Summary: During a standard evening of work focusing on their secret investigation into Michael Carter’s file, Jack and (Y/N) clash before ultimately coming to a mutual understanding (Chapter 5 of Specs and the Flyboy in Jack’s POV)
Pairing: Jack Thompson X Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Warning/Disclaimers: None
A/N: Originally, I only intended on rewriting a portion of Chapter 5 but I got a little carried away and rewrote the entire thing from Jack’s POV lol to be fair, this chapter is such an interesting turning point for both characters, so I really couldn’t resist! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!
The Armistice
October 1947
West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles
(Previous One-Shot)
With an exaggerated yawn, Jack stretched the aching muscles in his arms and glanced down at his wristwatch. “Hey, Sousa, I think I’m gonna head out a few minutes early.”
Daniel looked up from the paperwork he was signing with a small knowing smile. “On a Friday? Let me guess, you finally decided to make the most of your time in Los Angeles and by some strange miracle snagged yourself a date?”
“Nope,” Jack replied, standing and crossing the chief’s office to retrieve his jacket from the corner coat rack. “Today just took a lot out of me and I’m lookin’ forward to having a nice, long nap out by Stark’s pool.”
“Yeah, sitting around doing nothin’ but whining about our new codebreaker must’ve really exhausted you.” The chief’s voice was dripping with sarcasm but his dark eyes glimmered with amusement as he gave him a small wave. “I’ll see you bright and early on Monday, Thompson.”
After wishing Daniel a good weekend, Jack walked out of the chief’s office and through the bullpen as the other agents prepared to leave; he passed by Agent (Y/L/N)’s overly-cluttered desk and bit back a smirk of amusement at the sight of the codebreaker struggling to shove a handful of files into her disorganized briefcase, taking a small amount of pleasure in her annoyance before their scheduled meeting and the closeness they’d be forced to endure for the next several hours. He left the Auerbach Theatrical Agency and strolled down the street to lean against a lamppost and wait for his reluctant partner to emerge. When she finally did, he heaved a sigh of exasperation when he saw how stiff her posture was and the way her fingers of her free hand twitched against her skirt as she furtively glanced around at the other pedestrians on the sidewalk; (Y/L/N) may be a decent codebreaker but she’s got a lot to learn about espionage, he thought to himself, shaking his head and waiting for her to get into her emerald-green Fleetmaster before pushing himself off the lamppost.
“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy.” Jack smirked as he got into the passenger seat of her car and adjusted his fedora. “You fidget too much.”
Predictably, (Y/N) pursed her lips and rolled her eyes in annoyance at his critique. “Hello to you too, Flyboy. I think I’m closer to cracking the first code on page three, but I need to take a glance at some of my translation journals; Peggy kept stopping by my desk to talk, so I didn’t get as much done as I wanted to today.” She pulled away from the curb and began driving down the bustling Los Angeles street. “Did you find anything on Michael yet?”
“While Sousa was out getting lunch, I finally got into contact with my buddy Jeff in D.C. and he confirmed that both the British Armed Forces and the SOE listed him as MIA. I also got those files I requested last week from London, so we can take a look at ‘em over dinner.” He felt a surge of annoyance as he thought about the diner they’d been forced to conduct their secret investigation out of and before he could stop himself, he huffed out an agitated breath and demanded, “Explain to me again why we can’t do all this back at your place?”
“Because, my building manager doesn’t allow men on the premises. And we can’t do it at yours because Jarvis’ll tell Peg about it in a heartbeat, so we’ll just have to make-do with the diner until we find a new place.”
While (Y/N) pointedly ignored him in favor of focusing on the road ahead, Jack’s jaw clenched in agitation and kept himself occupied with one of the files, skimming over Michael Carter’s brief but distinguished service record and biting his lip as he pondered the typed ‘MIA’ notice at the bottom of the last page. They parked down the street from her apartment building and walked down the sidewalk together to the diner but when they reached the front entrance, there was a sign posted onto the door stating that they were closed due to a family emergency.
“Dammit,” Jack swore to himself and turned to face (Y/N) with his hands on his hips. “What now?”
The codebreaker looked about as exasperated as Jack felt, exhaling through her nose and tapping the toe of her high-heel against the pavement in indecision before releasing an agitated sigh. “All right, we’ll go to my place but you need to follow my instructions to the letter. If we get caught, I’ll be homeless and your ass’ll be grass, got it?”
Jack flashed her an amused smirk, thoroughly entertained by the situation unfolding before them. “Understood. Do you have a plan or do I need to come up with one myself?”
“No, it’s okay, I wouldn’t want you to overwork yourself or anything,” (Y/N) shot back and his jaw clenched tight in annoyance. “There’s a fire escape on the side of my apartment building, climb up to the second story and open the window but be careful, the hinges are a little rusty. Once you’re in, don’t make any sound until I can switch on my radio to mask our voices and don’t touch anything.”
After promising to follow her lead, Jack made his way around the back of the apartment building and checked to make sure that no one was watching before climbing up the rickety fire escape; she just has to live in a women-only apartment building, he inwardly grumbled as he crouched down and nudged the second-story window open, I feel like a goddamn creep. He was halfway into (Y/N)’s apartment when the door unlocked and the codebreaker stepped through the doorway, but the both of them froze when they heard the muffled voice of an older woman calling (Y/N)’s last name.
“Miss (Y/L/N)!”
(Y/N) shot Jack a panicked look but kicked into action after he gestured for her to hurry up, hastily stepping back out into the hallway and shutting the door behind her; Jack, taking advantage of the brief distraction, jumped into the apartment and crossed the room in three long strides to the wardrobe. “Jesus, this is low even for you…” Jack grumbled to himself before climbing up into the wardrobe and closing the door, a light blush reluctantly blossoming across his face when he realized that several pastel-colored satin nightgowns were brushing up against his arm. Awkwardly pushing the hangars further down the wardrobe’s bar, Jack forced himself to pay attention to the conversation happening out in the hallway.
“Yes, Mrs. Espinoza?”
“You’re home early, Miss (Y/L/N). Are you alone?”
“Of course, Mrs. Espinoza; I’m not feeling too well, so they sent me home a couple of hours early. I didn’t want Mr. Auerbach seeing me look so peaky.” Jack’s brows shot up in surprise as she continued. “He deserves to have a secretary who looks her best, wouldn’t you say?”
Mrs. Espinoza fell right into (Y/N)’s cleverly-concocted trap, the tone of her voice shifting from suspicion to motherly concern in an instant. “Yes, of course, dear! You go right to bed, you hear me?”
When Jack was sure that the landlady had walked away and heard (Y/N) reenter her apartment, he stepped out of the wardrobe and smirked at the frazzled expression on the codebreaker’s face. “I can’t believe she bought that load of crap; ‘He deserves to have a secretary who looks her best’?”
(Y/N) reluctantly smiled at his near-perfect imitation of her voice. “She’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the bunch, is she? But she’s a hell of a force to be reckoned with if she catches you.” After double checking that the door was locked, she crossed the small living room and switched on the radio, tuning it until she landed on a lively swing number and cranking the volume up. “That should mask our voices, but try not to make too much noise.”
Jack joined her at the small kitchen table and the pair quickly dove into their work; (Y/N)’s many codebooks were spread out before her and the tip of her pencil scribbled across the notepad as she worked through the codes written in Michael Carter’s original file, her reading glasses slipping down her nose and her brow furrowed in deep concentration, and Jack skimmed through the stack of files he’d requested from London. He occasionally read certain sections of the files aloud not just for the codebreaker’s benefit, but to distract himself from the feeling of awkwardness that started to grow the moment he realized that it was the first time they’d been completely alone with one another since their volatile fight several weeks back. Although they’d both said some horrible things to one another, even he had to admit that he might’ve crossed the line one or two times; in an ironic twist of fate, however, Jack discovered as their evening progressed that the only other thing that helped him keep his mind off the unresolved tension was nitpicking the messy state of his reluctant partner’s apartment.
“Geez, they didn’t teach you SSR operatives how to clean during the war?” Jack whistled low as he surveyed the cluttered coffee table, the clothes flung haphazardly over the changing screen in the corner and the dirty dishes piled high in the kitchen sink, and he quietly snickered when (Y/N) clenched her jaw but remained silent as she diligently worked through another code. “The Navy would’ve chewed you guys up before you could say ‘specs.’” The grumbling of his own stomach spurred him to leave the disorderly table and look for something to eat in the kitchen; unfortunately, the refrigerator was empty save for a half-empty bottle of milk and a block of butter. “You got any food in this joint?”
“Nothing that’s cooked; my neighbor down the hall sometimes comes in and cooks dinners for the week in exchange for hair styling lessons, but she’s been busy visiting her grandfather in the hospital.” Jack smirked in triumph as he closed the refrigerator door and met (Y/N)’s confused gaze across the room. “What?”
“Finally, something I can do that you can’t, Specs.” Chuckling, Jack retrieved the ingredients he needed to make a quick spaghetti dinner from her half-stocked pantry and explained, “My ma taught me when I was a kid; she always said that the women in my life would have better things to do than slave away in the kitchen for me.”
(Y/N)’s brow arched in surprise and while Jack switched on her stove to boil a pot of water, a reluctant smile played across her lips. “…Your ma’s a smart lady.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, with (Y/N) working through the codes in Michael’s file and Jack preparing dinner with one hand while flicking through the remaining files he’d requested with the other. A part of him hated the surge of satisfaction he experienced when the codebreaker praised his cooking and finished her dinner in record time, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good to take someone as intelligent and equally-judgmental as (Y/N) by surprise; he also hated to admit that the two of them – despite their clashing personalities and general dislike of one another – worked incredibly well with one another. Who’da thought that the dame who threatened to shoot me not too long ago would voluntarily sneak me into her apartment and sit down for a spaghetti dinner, Jack thought with an inward snicker as he flipped over the page of the file he was reading through.
“I’ve got it!”
At (Y/N)’s exclamation, Jack quickly looked up to see the codebreaker’s triumphant grin and the scribble-filled sheet of paper in her hand. “You cracked it?”
“The first code’s a name and address! Aaron Templeton, 68452 Ashbury Way, Los Angeles, California.” She removed her reading glasses and while she was busy considering the decoded address, she didn’t notice Jack standing and donning his jacket. “That’s near the docks, so it’s probably a warehouse. Maybe there’s a-wait, what are you doing?”
“I’m gonna go check out that address,” Jack nonchalantly replied as he scooped up his files.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it!” In an instant, the codebreaker was standing between him and the open window with her arms tightly crossed over her chest. “I’m going with you.”
Jack let out a dismissive snort. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am!” Impatient, Jack tried to move past her but she quickly blocked his way again. “You seriously think it’s a good idea to go in there without backup?”
“’Course not, but I’d rather go in without backup than have you getting in my way and screwing everything up.”
The codebreaker’s (Y/E/C) eyes narrowed in anger. “Need I remind you that I’ve also been trained to go on missions?”
“So has Samberly, what’s your point?”
“My point is that I can help you, but you’re too much of a stubborn ass to admit that I’m anything more than a codebreaker!”
A sudden knock on the apartment door cut through the tension and both Jack and (Y/N) blanched when a woman’s voice called out, “You okay, (Y/N)? I thought I heard voices!”
“I-I was just listening to a radio program, Shelly, I’m sorry if the noise disturbed you!” (Y/N) lied, wincing at the overly-cheerful tone present in her voice and shooting Jack a glare when he stifled an exasperated sigh. “I’ll be sure to turn it down!”
Both waited with bated breath for the woman to reply. “Okay!”
When her footsteps faded away as she walked down the hall to her own apartment, (Y/N) turned back to face Jack with her jaw set in stubborn determination. “Like it or not, Flyboy, I’m the best and only help you’ve got. If you don’t want it, then good luck finding another codebreaker.”
Jack gritted his teeth in irritation as the truth of her words started to set in. He’d spent weeks trying to find someone who could decode Michael Carter’s secret messages until he finally broke down and was forced to approach (Y/N); as much as she annoyed the living daylights out of him, her expertise in the field of codebreaking was simply unparalleled and finding a codebreaker as skilled as her would be hell for him. Heaving a displeased sigh, Jack eventually gave her a sharp nod. “Fine. You can come but you follow my lead, got it?”
The codebreaker let out a snort of derision and raised her hand up to her temple to give him a sarcastic salute. “Yes, sir, Lieutenant Junior Grade, sir.”
“Okay then, smart-ass, let’s get going…” Pushing past her, Jack opened the apartment window and stepped out onto fire escape, but his frown deepened when he realized that (Y/N) was following him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I gave Mrs. Espinoza that cockamamie story about being sick, remember? I can’t just waltz down there and pretend to suddenly feel better, now, can I?” After slipping her coat on, (Y/N) thrust her clutch purse into Jack’s arms and hiked her skirt up so that she could climb out onto the fire escape, unintentionally giving him a good look at her stocking-clad legs and causing him to hastily look away before she could catch a glimpse of his appreciative expression. She smoothed out the wrinkles of her skirt and took her clutch back from him before giving him an expectant look. “You wanted to lead the way, so lead the way.”
Jack pursed his lips and threw her a glare as he started to climb down the rickety fire escape. This is gonna be a long goddamn night, he inwardly grumbled to himself.
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The drive across downtown to the docks was relatively quiet, with Jack observing the glitzy nightlife going on at the various restaurants, bars and dancing clubs they passed by and (Y/N) focusing on navigating the hectic and never-ending Los Angeles traffic. She parked the emerald-green Fleetmaster a handful of blocks away from the address she’d decoded and after ensuring that their weapons were loaded, they got out and traveled the rest of the way on foot; the dimly-lit streets were deserted, but Jack remained on edge just in case they were unknowingly walking into some sort of lair or trap, his eyes scanning the rooftops and windows of the buildings surrounding them for any sharpshooters.
“Do you respect Peggy Carter?”
Jack halted and looked over at (Y/N) in perplexity. “Yeah? Why’re you asking?”
“Humor me for a moment, please.” He watched in growing confusion as the codebreaker squared her shoulders and continued. “Since our respect for Peggy Carter is the one thing we can agree on, I propose a truce. We work on this case as partners, equal in every aspect of the investigation, and we put aside our personal gripes with one another in order to successfully solve the case for her. Once we accomplish that, you’ll return to New York and we’ll never have to see one another again for the rest of our lives.” She held her hand out for him to shake and his brows shot up in surprise. “Do we have a deal, Chief Thompson?”
Jack hesitated for a moment before giving her hand the briefest of shakes; a mutual armistice was the logical resolution to all the unresolved tension between them, and he couldn’t help but feel gratitude that he didn’t have to be the one to call for a truce first. “It’s a deal, Agent (Y/L/N).” Awkwardly clearing his throat, Jack dropped her hand and turned to look at the building directly ahead of them that bore the address his partner had decoded earlier that evening. “All the windows on the north side are boarded up, looks like the fire escapes are a little worse for wear, too. I’ll take the left, you take the right; look for some kind of entrance we can use to get in.” He glanced down at the clutch in (Y/N)’s hand and inwardly winced as he recalled a not-so-distant memory of the codebreaker pulling the gun that was hidden within it on him. “Might wanna get that gun of yours out, too.”
With his revolver clutched in his hand, Jack tiptoed along the left side of the building and his senses were on high alert for any suspicious activity nearby. A blurry shape darted across the sidewalk in front of him and caused him to raise his weapon, quickly lowering it and releasing a huff of annoyance when he realized that it was only a storm-grey cat; I’m more out of practice than I thought, Jack silently admitted as he squared his shoulders and rounded the corner to see (Y/N) standing near a partially ajar door. He reached the codebreaker in three long strides and raised his revolver at the ready, darting into the building as soon as she flung the door open and proceeding to check each of the building’s four floors for any potential signs of danger. “All clear,” Jack announced as he stepped out onto the first-floor landing and tucked his revolver back into his holster. “Looks like this Aaron Templeton guy’s not home.”
“In that case, we should be quick.” (Y/N) slipped her gun into her clutch and looked around the dilapidated first floor. “You take the top two floors and I’ll take the bottom two; if you find anything, just holler for me.”
Jack silently nodded before making his way back up the staircase to look for any clues; the building was comprised of rotting wood and rusted pipes that leaked steady drips of dirty water onto the run-down furniture, and after searching the fourth floor, he started to wonder if the coded address had less meaning than they both attached to it. He stepped into one of the third-floor bedrooms, wrinkling his nose at the mold-coated mattress and the smell of dank mildew wafting up from the drenched carpet, but a crate sitting on the desk by the boarded-up window gave him pause and he cautiously approached it. It looked like any number of standard wooden crates, but Jack frowned when he spotted the familiar symbol – a rearing house surrounded by vines – that was neatly etched onto its lid. “Up here, (Y/L/N)!” He waited until the codebreaker appeared at the doorway before continuing. “I think I found something you might recognize.”
(Y/N) quirked a brow at that, but she carefully stepped over piles of debris to join him on the other side of the room; a look of recognition crossed her features as she studied the symbol. “The bank robbery; this was the symbol that was etched onto that device we took custody of a few weeks back. Chief Sousa closed the case the other day, said there was a lack of evidence and credible witnesses to justify keeping it open.” The codebreaker glanced back up at him. “You don’t think…?”
“Yeah, I do.” Jack pointed to the scrap of paper that sat on the desk beside the empty crate. “The time and date of the robbery, along with the bank’s street address. It looks like we might’ve just found the home of one of our bank robbers.”
(Y/N) nodded in agreement. “In that case, we need to take another look at that case and we need someone to re-examine the device.” Her finger gently traced the etching as she sighed, masking the troubled look in her (Y/E/C) eyes with a forced smile. “Unfortunately, I have just the man in mind…”
Recalling what he’d seen in the codebreaker’s file, Jack groaned and rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Goddammit. Just once, I’d like to work a case without the involvement of Howard Stark.”
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A/N: It’s fun writing Asshole Jack Thompson knowing where he ends up in terms of Specs lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new one-shot! Enjoy!
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0iKzLZlEK1rTaSIiW5zRlk?si=483950cfa991442a
“Tales From The SSR” Masterlist
“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist
Tagging: @nnon-it-up @hufflefluffy @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @coffeeandcrimeshows @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @fannyspammy @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @nincompoopydoo @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley @mostclevermiss @crowleysqueenofhell @groovyqueer @xxruinaxxmcu
#tales from the ssr#specs and the flyboy#jack thompson x reader#jack thompson x f!reader#jack thompson#chief thompson#peggy carter#agent carter#daniel sousa#chief sousa#howard stark#edwin jarvis#ana jarvis#rose roberts#michael carter#strategic scientific reserve#marvel cinematic universe
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1,000 FOLLOWERS!!!
I've been super busy for the past several weeks (having your house fumigated for termites sucks lol) but holy shit, guys, we've crossed into 1,000 followers! When I first created this blog, I never expected to have even 100 followers so seriously, thank you guys so freaking much for following, either for my fics or my reblogs or my opinions lol it really means a lot to me, so thank you for 1,000! 🥰
#I love you guys so much!!!#1000 followers celebration#holy shit#fanfiction#steve rogers x reader#loki x reader#din djarin x reader#jack thompson x reader#stumblin' in#spellbinding#taking care of business#specs and the flyboy#tales from the ssr
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Turning Point (Tales From The SSR)
Summary: An influenza outbreak incapacitates the 107th Tactical Team while out in the field and as they work to nurse (Y/N) back to health, Steve and Peggy finally have a moment alone.
Pairing: Steve Rogers X Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers X Reader (Platonic), Bucky Barnes X Reader (Slight)
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings/Disclaimers: None
A/N: Hi guys! This one-shot was originally gonna be about something else entirely, but it sort of evolved into this and I went along with it lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!
Turning Point
March 1944
The Forests of Mount Oeta, Axis-Occupied Greece
(Previous One-Shot)
Three months after their official formation, the 107th Tactical Team found themselves camping out in the dense forests of Mount Oeta as they traveled through Greece to destroy the second of five Hydra bases scattered throughout Europe. The intelligence they’d received from the SOE and several Greek Resistance groups pointed to the Hydra facility – a weapons manufacturing plant similar to the Austrian factory in Kreischberg that many of their team had recently been held in as POW’s – being located near the village of Gorgopotamos. They’d been ordered to stand by for further approval from their commanding officers at the Strategic Scientific Reserve and not long after setting up camp in a frosty clearing, nearly every member of their team came down with influenza.
Falsworth, Dugan and Morita were the first of them to fall ill, quickly followed by Dernier, Jones and Peggy; Bucky seemed to luck out, only suffering very mild symptoms that cleared up after twenty-four hours and thanks to the super-soldier serum flowing through Steve’s veins, he was spared from catching the infection. (Y/N), being the only other person who hadn’t succumbed to the illness, helped Steve and Bucky care for the others and slowly nursed all six of their comrades back to health. However, it was then that the codebreaker herself finally came down sick and unfortunately, her symptoms were the worst by far; as the hours turned into a day and a day turned into two, she showed little to no sign of improvement and an unspoken fear of losing their beloved codebreaker slowly filled them all one by one. And since he was the leader of their tactical team and responsible for every single member he’d personally recruited, Steve was wracked with a heavy guilt that only continued to grow the sicker (Y/N) became.
“Cap? You with me, Cap?”
Steve tore his gaze away from the makeshift medical tent they’d erected at the start of their camp’s epidemic and looked over at Morita, who was sitting cross-legged on his standard-issue sleeping bag and attempting to tune their scuffed Stark Industries radio. “Sorry, Morita. What was it?”
“I was just askin’ you if you think we should use the radio transceiver to call for help.” He patted the portable SCR-300 unit as his chapped lips pursed in worry. “I know that Stark said it’s only got enough juice for one long-distance transmission, but (Y/L/N)’s not gettin’ any better and-”
“That transceiver’s our only way of receiving the order from headquarters to move in and we can’t afford to jeopardize this mission by using up its one and only transmission,” Steve replied, hating the tactical words he found himself uttering despite the indisputable truth they held. “I wish we could, but we have our orders.”
A disappointed but understanding look crossed Morita’s face, and he gave Steve a short nod before returning his attention to the radio resting on his lap. Steve’s jaw tightened in an effort to remain composed as he detected the faint sounds of the codebreaker vomiting into a bucket and as he paced around the wide clearing, he took a moment to survey their camp and its morose occupants; their days-long trek through the mountains of Greece meant that they’d all been cut off from any news of their friends and family back home, and (Y/N)’s poor health had only lowered their already dwindling morale. Falsworth and Dernier – both distracted by worry for their families’ safety back home in a post-Operation Steinbock England and Nazi-Occupied France – were heading off to their sentry duties while Dugan and Jones – who were on-edge since they’d caught wind of the successful sinking of the USS Grayback by Japanese aircraft off the coast of Okinawa, yet another American ship sunk since the start of the war – were coming back from their patrol. Morita, unable to contact his mother and grandparents imprisoned in a Japanese internment camp back home in the States, was preoccupying himself with tuning their battered radio so that they could catch up to date with any news from the front. Some leader I am, Steve scoffed at himself and kicked at a fallen pinecone as he paced, if I can’t lead them like this then how am I gonna keep them safe out there on the battlefield?
Hearing Dugan and Jones’ heavy footsteps approaching, Steve wiped the apprehensive look off his face and replaced it with a more stoic stare as he turned to face both men. “How’s (Y/L/N) doin’?” The tense silence of the camp was punctuated by the sounds of dry heaving emanating from the medical tent, causing all three men to wince in sympathy. “Poor kid. I really don’t know how we’re gonna get her back on her feet, seeing as we all used up the last of the medicine.”
“That gal’s a fighter, Dum Dum; you hear how she cussed out Monty when he tried takin’ her temperature this morning?” A smirk tugged at the corner of Jones’ lips as he shook his head and slung his rifle’s strap over his shoulder. “I think I’d rather try snatching a hungry bobcat’s dinner away than mess around with a sick Agent (Y/L/N).”
Before either of them could reply, the flap covering the entrance of the medical tent was thrown open and a worried-looking Bucky emerged with a bucket in his arms, making a bee-line towards the trio of men the moment he spotted them. “All right, the good news is that I think we’re close to breaking her fever and lowering her body temperature.”
While both Dugan and Jones breathed a sigh of relief, the expression on his best friend’s face made Steve frown and brusquely ask, “And the bad news?”
“She’s severely dehydrated and the lack of food’s startin’ to get to her; things are gonna go south real quick if we don’t get some food and water into her soon.” Bucky unceremoniously thrust the full bucket he’d been holding into Dugan’s arms, ignoring the older man’s cry of protest and Jones’ snickers. “Get this cleaned out and when you’re done, have Morita give you a hand with the laundry and be sure to start with (Y/N)’s clothes first. I’m gonna take a look at our K-rations and see if I can’t whip up somethin’ that’ll be easy on her stomach.”
When both Dugan and Jones looked over at Steve for his authorization, he gave them an approving nod and watched them both hurry away to carry out their orders. “What can I do, Buck?”
“Go and help Carter cool her down; I’ve got her placing wet cloths onto her wrists, ankles and forehead, the same as what your Ma and I did when you caught scarlet fever back in ’31, and see if you can’t get her to drink a little water while you’re at it.” Despite his visible concern for their codebreaker’s deteriorating health, a ghost of his trademark grin flashed across his face. “All I got for my efforts were some pretty un-ladylike threats about where she’d shove the water canteen I offered her, so maybe you’ll have some better luck.”
Steve, knowing full well that his best friend was harboring a small crush on the team’s quick-witted codebreaker but wanting to keep his secret, simply nodded and patted Bucky’s shoulder as he strode past him; when he reached the flap of the medical tent, he politely cleared his throat and waited for Peggy’s welcome before entering. (Y/N) was lying on the cot, dressed in a sweat-soaked white shirt and khaki trousers with wet cloths strategically placed along her overheated body, and Peggy was seated next to her with a troubled look on her face as she gently dabbed a damp rag along her best friend’s face. Judging by the pallor of her skin, the dark circles under her fluttering eyes and the erratic heartbeat that only a super-soldier could hear, it was easy for Steve to see why Peggy and Bucky were so worried for her.
“Oh no, not you too,” (Y/N) croaked out when she finally noticed Steve’s presence, weakly smiling as he took a seat on the other side of her cot. “I already told Peg and Bucky that I’m as fit as a fiddle.”
“And I already told you that you’re as stubborn as a mule.” Peggy’s words were playful, but the brief look she gave Steve conveyed the anxiety she was fighting to mask for the codebreaker’s benefit. “Perhaps Captain Rogers can convince you that your only job right now is to rest, not to waste energy arguing with me or threatening Sergeant Barnes with bodily harm.”
The codebreaker let out a frustrated groan. “But there’s still codes-”
“And you’ll be able to decode ‘em when you get better,” Steve interjected, his tone gentle but resolute. “You spent days nursing the rest of the team back to health, so now it’s your turn to let us take care of you.” He poured some canteen water into a tin cup and held it out for her to take. “So, could you do me a favor and do as Peggy says?”
After a long moment, (Y/N)’s jaw unclenched and she managed to muster up a faint chuckle before taking the cup from him. “I always said that ‘do as Peggy says’ should be the SSR’s official slogan…” She forced down the water and while Steve took the empty cup away, she gave Peggy a small apologetic smile. “I’m sorry that I’m being a pain in the ass, Peg. It’s just that I…I’m not used to being fussed over. I can’t…help but feel like a burden…”
The codebreaker’s eyelids drooped and her labored breathing subtly evened out as she lost consciousness, but her heartbreaking words hung heavy in the dead-silent medical tent. Although they’d only known one another for two months, Steve was well-aware of (Y/N)’s turbulent relationship with her family and the hardships she’d faced throughout her childhood; it saddened him to know that such a kind and compassionate woman was deprived of the sort of loving home that he and Bucky were lucky to have grown up in, and it made it all the more unfair that she was suffering after tirelessly caring for her teammates in their time of need.
A quiet sniffle caused Steve to look up from (Y/N)’s clammy face, and he felt a pang in his chest when he caught sight of Peggy wiping a tear off her cheek; when the agent’s reddened eyes met his, she gave him a saddened smile and quietly spoke. “From the moment we first met, (Y/N)’s been like a sister to me and since my brother Michael’s death, I can’t…I’d rather not imagine living in a world without her.”
Steve returned her smile with one of his own before reaching over the cot and tentatively resting his hand atop hers. “(Y/N)’s a fighter, Peggy. She’s gonna pull through this, and it’ll be because she’s got all of us here to help her out.” Peggy’s expression softened and Steve felt his face warm when she set the damp rag down and gave his hand a grateful squeeze. In an instant, it dawned on him that they hadn’t been alone with one another since their disastrous confrontation back at the SSR’s headquarters after his and Private Lorraine’s kiss; he awkwardly cleared his throat and slipped his hand out from under Peggy’s, picking up the rag and dabbing it into the bowl of water perched on a nearby crate as he attempted to keep his emotions in check. “I’m, um…I guess I’m not really used to being on this side of an illness,” He remarked, wringing the rag out and carefully placing it across (Y/N)’s heated forehead. “It’s a strange perspective, being the caregiver instead of the patient; I’m usually the one lying in bed with a hundred and two degree fever.”
“Doctor Erskine mentioned that your medical history was rather extensive…” Peggy stood and leaned over to adjust the codebreaker’s makeshift pillow, and her sympathetic eyes met his when he moved to help her. “I can’t begin to imagine how challenging your life was before Project Rebirth.”
Returning to his seat, Steve removed the cloth encircling (Y/N)’s wrist and wetted it with fresh water, his gaze fixed onto his task as the memories of his childhood in Brooklyn and the hazy memories of each of his life-threatening illnesses invaded his mind. “My ma – she was a nurse, you see – she always told me that God blessed her with a baby he knew she’d have no trouble raising on her own. He sure as hell didn’t hold back his punches, either; before high school, I was diagnosed with asthma, scoliosis, arrhythmia, high blood pressure, astigmatism, pernicious anemia, stomach ulcers, sinusitis, fallen arches, and I had a couple of bouts of colds, rheumatic fever and scarlet fever. But none of that ever stopped her…” His eyes stung with the urge to cry but he forced himself to remain composed as he continued. “She told me that nothing in heaven or hell could stop her from taking care of me.”
“Your mother sounds like a strong-willed woman. Is she…?” Sensing her hesitancy, Steve shook his head and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her purse her lips and fiddle with the end of her braided hair before continuing. “She'd be very proud of the man you’ve become.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat and chuckled to disguise the unexpected emotion the agent’s thoughtful words brought on. “I’m still just that skinny kid from Brooklyn, now just with a serum that gives you muscles and an iron-clad immune system.”
“You’re more than the serum.” Peggy’s gentle and affirming tone caused Steve to look up and meet her sparkling brown eyes. “The serum would be nothing without the good, kind-hearted man it empowers,” She reached across the cot to rest her hand atop his, causing Steve’s heart to race and a blush to color his cheeks. “You’re my hero, Steve.”
There was a sudden and palpable shift in the air as Steve studied the agent’s eyes and took in her words. Although he’d undergone an incredible physical transformation that saw him go from sickly to the epitome of strength, the way Peggy looked at him never changed; it was clear as day that she meant exactly what she’d said – after all, Peggy Carter was hardly one for mincing words and had no issue speaking her mind in any given situation – and that realization only made Steve’s admiration and unspoken attraction to her grow. With a soft smile, Steve twisted his hand around to intertwine their fingers and shyly replied, “You’re my hero, too.”
Peggy’s smile grew but before either of them could say or do anything further, Bucky and Dugan burst into the medical tent; they both quickly withdrew their hands from one another before either man took note of their intimate moment, and Steve hastily averted his gaze from the equally-flustered agent seated across from him. “How’s the patient doing?” Bucky asked, oblivious to the conversation he’d walked in on as he set a bowl of broth down onto the nearest crate and moved to replace the cloth on (Y/N)’s forehead with the back of his hand; after a moment, the look of concern written across his face softened and he breathed out a relieved sigh. “Her fever finally broke; she should be okay after we get her to eat and drink a little.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” Peggy beamed and a reassured Dugan ruffled her hair before ducking out of the medical tent to inform their teammates of the good news. “Ste-Captain Rogers was able to convince her to drink a little water after you left.”
“And Peg-Agent Carter managed to cool her down with the wet cloths,” Steve added, awkwardly clearing his throat when his best friend glanced over his shoulder and arched a curious brow at him. “So, um, you made soup?”
Bucky chuckled. “Well, my ma sure as hell wouldn’t call it that, but a bouillon cube mixed into boiling water’ll just have to do.” With the gentleness of a well-seasoned caregiver, he nudged (Y/N)’s shoulder and smiled when her eyes finally fluttered open. “Hey there, doll. I know you’re tired, but I’ve got some food here for you; it ain’t easy makin’ these K-rations taste edible, but I worked a little magic just for you.”
Groaning, (Y/N) allowed Bucky to help her sit up and Steve, not wanting to be in their way, stood and gave Peggy a small smile as he made his way to the tent’s flap. “I, um…I should go and check in with the others. Would you tell (Y/N) that I hope she feels better soon and that she’s to continue following your orders until she does?”
“Of course. And Steve?” He turned around in time to catch the tender look etched across Peggy’s beautiful features, illuminated by a smile that caused his stomach to lurch in a not-so-unpleasant way. “Thank you, for opening up to me.”
Steve nodded once and returned her smile with one of his own. “And thank you, Peg.”
Arching a quizzical brow, the agent quietly asked, “What for?”
“For listening.”
And as Steve turned and walked out of the medical tent, all he could think of was the way Peggy had looked at him and how happy he was that they’d seemingly moved on from their turbulent encounter back at headquarters. When the war’s over, I’m gonna buy (Y/N) (Y/L/N) every single Andrews Sisters record and box of herbal teabags I can get my hands on, Steve silently vowed as his smile grew into a full-blown grin.
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A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new one-shot. Enjoy!
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0iKzLZlEK1rTaSIiW5zRlk?si=97af3c9ce3ff4b65
“Tales From The SSR” Masterlist
“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist
Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @coffeeandcrimeshows @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley @mostclevermiss @crowleysqueenofhell @groovy-lady @xxruinaxxmcu
#tales from the ssr#specs and the flyboy#steve rogers x peggy carter#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#steve rogers#captain america#peggy carter#agent carter#bucky barnes#dum dum dugan#jim morita#gabe jones#jacques dernier#james montgomery falsworth#howard stark#michael carter#strategic scientific reserve#marvel cinematic universe
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Meet The Thompsons (Tales From The SSR)
Summary: On the night before shipping out, Jack Thompson contemplates his future as a commanding officer in the United States Navy and reflects on his strained relationship with his father before sharing a quiet moment of goodbye with his mother.
Pairing: None
Word Count: 1.8k
Warning/Disclaimers: None
A/N: For this one-shot, we’re gonna focus on Jack’s last night before shipping out and touch on the complicated relationship he has with his family (which we’re definitely gonna explore more in the future, so don’t worry!). Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!
Meet The Thompsons
March 1942
The Home of Richard and Julia Thompson, Philadelphia
(Previous One-Shot)
The muffled sounds of laughter and music filtered through the cool night air and up to where Jack was perched on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over the edge as he rested his weight back on one hand and smoked a cigarette with the other; he was staring up at the constellations mapped out in the dark sky above, silently naming all the formations he’d learned about in school and wondering how different they’d look halfway across the world. True, the twenty-two year old was shipping out to a battleship stationed just off the coast of San Francisco first thing in the morning, but it would only be a matter of time before he’d find himself onboard a destroyer or attack transport deep in the heart of the Pacific Theater; if they don’t look too different, then it’ll be like bringing a piece of home along with me, Jack thought with a small smile, trying and failing not to think about the very real possibility that he might never see his family again.
Jack wasn’t one of those idealistic young men who foolishly believed that the war that had been raging for three years would come to a quick and easy end now that America was in the thick of it, and he certainly didn’t have any delusions of grandeur about what he’d encounter halfway across the world; he remembered his Pop-Pop’s stories about serving in the Army during the Spanish-American War, he’d heard whispers about what his father and uncles had endured throughout the Great War and he’d spent the past several months watching the newsreels that played between each film shown at his favorite movie theater. The brutal images emerging from both Europe and the Pacific had only encouraged Jack, a volunteer enlistee in the Navy’s V-7 program at his alma mater of Cornell University, to study harder at the OCS courses and graduate as one of thousands referred to as ninety-day wonders, deploying with the rank of ensign and the assurance of a promising career in the Navy. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into…but truth be told, that didn’t stop him from feeling nervous about whatever the future had in store for him.
“Jack Grant Thompson, you’d better not be smoking out there after you promised your Gam-Gam that you kicked that nasty habit!”
Cursing under his breath, Jack put his half-smoked cigarette out against the sole of his dress shoe and flicked it into the garden below, waving a hand around to clear the surrounding air as he loudly called over his shoulder, “I’m not, Ma!”
He could detect the exasperation in his mother’s chuckle and a moment later, she sat on his bedroom’s window ledge and looked out at him with a knowing smile on her lined face. “Breaking a promise to your Gam-Gam and lying to your mother all in the same night? That doesn’t sound like the well-behaved little boy that I raised, does it?”
“Geez, it was only one cig, Ma…” Jack sighed at his mother’s attempt to guilt him into apologizing and fought back the smile that threatened to form as he stood and walked across the roof to his bedroom window. “I wouldn’t stress too much about it if I were you; startin’ tomorrow, the Navy’s gonna ensure that your well-behaved little boy lays off the vices for good.”
Julia Thompson hummed in interest at that. “That’s a fair point. In that case, I’ll be sure to write a letter of thanks to Admiral Nimitz.” The evening’s gentle breeze ruffled his mother’s styled blonde hair as her jade-green eyes carefully considered him. “Is the smoking the only reason you’re up here, or are you avoiding the party?” The muffled sounds of Richard Thompson’s booming laugh broke through the music playing downstairs, and Julia’s face dawned with realization when Jack crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the window frame. “Jackie, you’re a smart young man; you know that your father isn’t the best at expressing himself but believe me, he’s proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. After all, you graduated from the V-7 program at the top of your class – and in only ninety days, no less – and now you’re entering the United States Navy as a commanding officer. What parent wouldn’t be proud of such an accomplishment?”
Jack clenched his jaw and looked up at the stars littering the night sky as he stiffly replied, “Yeah, but would it kill the old man to say it once in a while? All he can ever manage to muster up is ‘Good work, son, but that final GPA could’ve been higher if you only applied yourself more’ or ‘Congratulations, son, but you need to practice more so you don’t fumble the ball after a good pass next season’ or ‘Well done, son, but you ninety-day wonders won’t have half the respect that the CO’s back in my Army days earned.’” He took his frustrations out on a fallen apple from their apple tree, kicking it off the rooftop and running an agitated hand through his freshly-trimmed hair. “I dunno, maybe he’ll finally have somethin’ to say when I ship out and don’t come b-”
“Don’t you even think about finishing that sentence, young man.” The older woman made the sign of the cross and kissed the gold crucifix dangling from her necklace before giving Jack a sharp look. “How do you think I – or the rest of the family, for that matter – feel whenever you fixate on this unnecessary need of yours to prove yourself to your father? We’re all so proud of you, Jackie, and we never miss an opportunity to tell you how proud we are; isn’t our love and approval just as important as his?”
A sense of guilt began gnawing at Jack’s stomach and he slowly nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he heaved another sigh. “I’m sorry, Ma, and I’m sorry for not bein’ a better man of the hour. Some going-away party, huh?”
“Over there, over there, send the word, send the word over there! That the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming, the drums rum tumming everywhere!”
“From the sound of it, your uncles and cousins seem to be enjoying the party just fine.” They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Jack sensed that his mother was quietly searching for the right words to say. “You may be able to put on a brave face and fool the rest of the family, my sweet boy, but you can’t fool your mother. You’re scared for what the future has in store for you.” Julia’s smile was patient and loving and the hand that briefly caressed his cheek was a familiar comfort, but Jack could detect a glint of her own fear in her jade-green eyes as she continued. “You’re not the first in this family I’ve sent off to war, Jackie, but I pray every day that you’ll be the last. Oh, and that reminds me!” She reached into the pocket of her dress and withdrew a small black box. “I’d rather you open this out here away from the rest of the family.”
With a sneaking suspicion of what the box contained, Jack arched a brow but went about opening it, biting his bottom lip to keep from chuckling when he poured its unsurprising contents into his open palm. “Hey, a Saint Christopher medal. How much convincin’ did it take for Father Fitzsimmons to bless this when he found out it was for me?”
His mother covered her mouth to muffle her chuckles. “Now that you mention it, he did wait until I placed my donation into the collection box before beginning his blessing. He’s forgiven the little eleven-year-old who smashed one of the church’s windows during a game of street baseball, but he certainly hasn’t forgotten.” Motioning for him to kneel on the roof in front of the window, Julia took the necklace and fastened it around his neck, her eyes beginning to water despite the smile that she struggled to maintain. “Jackie, while you’re overseas I want you to do two things for me: I want you to wear your Saint Christopher medal, and I want you to…I want you to promise me that no matter what you’ll see over there or how hopeless you might feel, you won’t forget about all the loved ones back home who will be praying for your safe return.”
Jack swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded as he forced himself to return his mother’s smile and readied himself to reassure his mother with promises they both knew he couldn’t keep. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I will, Ma. Now that Roosevelt’s finally gotten us onboard with the rest of the world, this war’ll be over in no time and I’ll be back here before you know it.”
When Julia’s lower lip trembled, he leaned forward and allowed her to wrap her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. “Godspeed, Ensign Thompson.”
His mother’s sweet farewell was what finally brought a prickle of tears to Jack’s eyes, and he found himself returning her hug and burying his face into her shoulder as he savored their private goodbye. In that moment, he made a silent vow to himself: that he would do whatever it took, move heaven or hell if he had to, to return home a war hero worthy of his family’s pride. And with a shiny war medal pinned onto my chest, my father won’t be able to add a stipulation to his praise, he thought with a small inward smirk despite himself.
“So prepare, say a prayer, send the word, send the word to beware! We’ll be over, we’re coming over and we won’t come back ‘till it’s over, over there!”
“I should go and make sure that your uncles and cousins haven’t gotten into your Pop-Pop’s good liquor…” Julia pulled away and gave Jack’s brow a chaste kiss. “Come down whenever you’re ready, Jackie, but don’t wait too long; you have an early train to catch tomorrow morning, after all.”
His mother gave him one last smile before standing and exiting the bedroom, taking care to close the door behind her. After glancing down at the Saint Christopher medal resting against his blue necktie, Jack tucked the necklace into his shirt’s collar and reached into his pocket for his beat-up carton of cigarettes; if he was going to march head-first into one of the largest wars the world had ever seen and finally do something to earn his father’s pride, then he might as well keep fibbing to his Gam-Gam and enjoy his vice to the fullest while he still could.
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A/N: It was rough writing this, knowing what Jack would end up experiencing during his years of service, but I liked exploring more of his character and can’t wait to revisit the Thompson family in the future! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new one-shot! Enjoy!
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0iKzLZlEK1rTaSIiW5zRlk?si=97af3c9ce3ff4b65
“Tales From The SSR” Masterlist
“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist
Tagging: @nnon-it-up @hufflefluffy @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @coffeeandcrimeshows @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @fannyspammy @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @nincompoopydoo @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley @mostclevermiss @crowleysqueenofhell @groovy-lady @xxruinaxxmcu
#tales from the ssr#specs and the flyboy#jack thompson#agent thompson#chief thompson#agent carter#strategic scientific reserve#marvel cinematic universe
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Hi there! It's been a while since I've given ya'll a WIP update, so let's go ahead and do one now!
1. Spellbinding (Loki X Reader): I decided to push back the one-shot I originally planned to write first in favor of some Christmas fluff (hint: it includes a puppy that may or may not put Loki and the Cosmic Sorceress under its adorable spell lol). It's about 70% written, and I hope to have it out sometime next month!
2. Tony Stark X Reader: I've been working on my very first Tony Stark X Reader one-shot! It's exciting and a little nerve-wracking because I've never written Tony this way before, and I hope to have this one out sometime next month as well!
3. Stumblin' In (Steve Rogers X Reader): Since I've successfully written Booksmart and Steve into TFATWS, I decided to work on fitting them into Hawkeye next. Unfortunately, I'm nowhere near ready to publish this mini-fic lol but not to worry, I'm working very hard on it!
4. Tales From The SSR/Specs and the Flyboy (Jack Thompson X Reader): Again, I haven't really begun focusing on this one as much as I want to, but the next one-shot in this series will focus on Steve and the Howling Commandos at the height of WW2!
And that's pretty much it! Which stories or one-shots are you guys looking forward to the most? Let me know and don't forget to give my Fanfiction Masterlist a like if you're interested in reading any of these, I always update it after posting a new work! (And good luck on your exam @mostclevermiss!) 💖
#spellbinding#loki x reader#loki x f!reader#stumblin in#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x f!reader#tales from the ssr#specs and the flyboy#jack thompson x reader#jack thompson x f!reader#tony stark x reader#tony stark x f!reader#fanfiction#marvel cinematic universe
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In Her Kiss (Tales From The SSR)
Summary: Because of a playful kiss, Jack has to grapple with some unexpected feelings for his beautiful but aggravating partner (Snippet of Chapter 7 of Specs and the Flyboy in Jack’s POV)
Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings/Disclaimers: None
A/N: A favorite moment of mine between Specs and the Flyboy is when the codebreaker gave Jack a flirty kiss as a joke, so here’s that cute moment from Jack’s POV! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!
In Her Kiss
October 1947
West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles
(Previous One-Shot)
While giving Daniel a hand with some old case files that needed reviewing, Jack kept a close eye on his stubborn but determined partner as she tirelessly worked to try and decode Michael Carter’s encoded messages; the codebreaker had spent days secretly working on the former SOE agent’s case file but to no avail, unable to make even a small dent in his elaborately-crafted codes, and he knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t pleased with herself for it. Agent (Y/N) (Y/L/N) hated failure – even more than she hated Jack and his apparent ego – so she was pushing herself to decode the case file’s messages and continue working to solve their secret investigation into who was responsible for Jack’s shooting. She’s gonna run herself into the ground if she doesn’t take a break soon, he thought with a small twinge of worry; with the skilled codebreaker out of commission, their off-the-books investigation would be stalled and Michael Carter could disappear without a trace before being brought to justice.
Jack was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed (Y/N) leap up from her desk with her arms full of translation journals, and he frowned when she threw him a pointed look as she hurried out of the bullpen. Knowing exactly where she was headed but with no clue why, Jack closed the case file he’d been in the middle of working on and remarked, “Sousa, I’m gonna go get a bite to eat down at the diner. You want me to pick you up anything while I’m out?”
The distracted chief shook his head as he poured over a case file. “Nah, I’m good, Jack, but thanks…”
“Okay, I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Jack strode out of Daniel’s office and out of the bullpen, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he navigated the halls to their unofficial – and frankly, questionable – meeting spot: the second-floor supply closet by the locker room. He grimaced and cast a weary glance around while mumbling “Sneakin’ around like a couple of goddamn teenagers” under his breath.
He quickly ducked into the cramped supply closet and switched on the light bulb hanging down from the ceiling, arching a brow when he noticed that (Y/N) was bouncing on the balls of her feet and beaming in delight. “I’ve done it!”
“What, finally had a mental breakdown?” Jack’s concern for the codebreaker’s sanity grew when she didn’t snap at him or stop grinning. “I know we need those codes cracked but you’re gonna run yourself into the ground at the rate you’re going, and-”
Jack’s words were suddenly silenced by (Y/N)’s hand clamping over his mouth and before he could even register his surprise, she dropped her hand and brandished one of the papers in her grasp. “I figured out how Michael’s creating his codes! He’s using his background in Literature to develop his own coding style! Remember, you read in that file the other week that he attended Cambridge before enlisting in the British Armed Forces, majoring in Philosophy and minoring in Literature; he definitely would’ve learned enough there to be able to create new codes.”
Impressed by her breakthrough, Jack crossed his arms over his chest as he asked, “And this new style, you can figure it out?”
“It’ll still be a challenge but since I think I have an insight into his process now, it shouldn’t take nearly as long as it has been.” The codebreaker grinned and gave the coded paper in her hand a small shake. “How about we decode this one over a turkey and Swiss at the diner tonight?”
Jack nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Maybe we can also think of a better meeting place while we’re at it?” (Y/N)’s head tilted in confusion and Jack couldn’t help but use his partner’s naivete for some light teasing. “I mean, the others might get the wrong idea if they catch us in here. You and me alone in a tiny supply closet…? Very scandalous.”
The codebreaker’s unimpressed expression only made Jack’s teasing grin widen. “Is that so?”
“Oh, definitely. It’ll spread all over the office that the new codebreaker’s seduced the innocent Chief and then my reputation’ll be ruined.” His partner huffed out an exasperated sigh and began maneuvering herself out of the cramped closet with little success, much to his amusement; he enjoyed getting under the codebreaker’s skin but ever since their contemptuous meeting with Howard Stark, it was becoming a little challenging to find new ways to annoy her just as much as she annoyed him. This one seems to be working pretty good, he thought with an inward chuckle as he took note of the heat radiating from her face and the slight tremble of her hands. “Hey, defending my virtue’s very important to me, Specs, don’t knock it!”
(Y/N) stopped and turned back towards him with a blank look. “Well, in that case…” Quick as a flash, she clasped his shoulders and stood on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss onto his neck and pulling away as her red-hued lips curved into a satisfied smirk. “Have fun defending that one, Flyboy.”
He watched in stunned silence as she ducked out of the closet, leaving him alone to contemplate the effective way she’d turned the tables on him and how swiftly she’d been able to reduce him to a blushing mess. The way her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkled with mischief…how her smile somehow brightened the dingy supply closet…the lingering scent of her sweet perfume in the air…the feeling of her hand on his face and her lips softly brushing against the skin of his neck-
“Jesus, Thompson, pull yourself together,” Jack scolded himself, giving his head a small shake and taking a shaky breath before exiting the closet, cursing the warmth in his face with each step. The bullpen bustled with activity as Jack made his way back towards Daniel’s office; he forced himself not to glance over at (Y/N)’s desk and didn’t relax his shoulders until he sat down at his own.
“You know, if you’re gonna lie about where you’re going then you should probably be sure to dispose of all the evidence.”
Jack’s head snapped up at Daniel’s comment and he was already in the process of crafting a lie to cover up his secret investigation when he realized that the chief was smirking instead of fuming. “What?”
“Last I checked, the diner ‘round the corner doesn’t give out hickeys whenever you buy a ham-and-cheese sandwich.” Daniel’s smirk widened as Jack swore under his breath and dug into his pocket for his handkerchief. “So, who’s the gal?”
“None of your business, that’s who,” Jack fired back at the amused chief, wiping away the smudge of red lipstick as best he could without a mirror at hand and shooting Daniel a sharp look. “As long as I’m stuck here in goddamn Los Angeles, I might as well try and make the best of it.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” With a shrug, Daniel turned his attention back to his case file and Jack breathed an inward sigh of relief. “Hope this gal’s worth the hour it’ll take you to scrub that lipstick off your shirt collar…”
Jack glanced over at the office’s window and watched a diligent (Y/N) work alongside Peggy to decode backlogged messages. He didn’t miss the way that his heartbeat quickened when she smiled triumphantly with each successful decoding or the strange but not-so-unpleasant feeling that washed over him as he recalled their most recent interaction, and while he was beginning to view his reluctant partner in a different light, he couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he should. With the smallest of smiles on his face, Jack continued to study (Y/N) out in the bullpen and replied, “I’m not sure…but I think she might be.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Lol a smitten Jack Thompson is my favorite kind lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new one-shot. Enjoy!
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0iKzLZlEK1rTaSIiW5zRlk?si=483950cfa991442a
“Tales From The SSR” Masterlist
“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist
Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @coffeeandcrimeshows @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley @mostclevermiss @crowleysqueenofhell @groovy-lady @xxruinaxxmcu
#tales from the ssr#specs and the flyboy#jack thompson x reader#jack thompson#daniel sousa#peggy carter#agent carter#michael carter#howard stark#edwin jarvis#rose roberts#strategic scientific reserve#marvel cinematic universe
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