#women's royal navy service

[jasonraish]

Huge key art (18,750px aka 62.5 inches wide!) for U-boat Wargamers on Sky History UK. January 1943: Britain is on the brink of starvation from ruthless Nazi attacks on merchant ships. The Navy cannot spare any men. Enter the WRNS (Women’s Royal Navy Service) to war game the tactics to defeat the enemy U-Boats.

[whats-in-a-sentence]

Wrens played a major part in the planning and organisation of naval operations, serving at Bletchley Park and its out-stations, operating machines used in code-breaking.

"Normal Women: 900 Years of Making History" - Philippa Gregory

[thepastisalreadywritten]

[mrs-nanami]

Women have many belongings. It used to vex Nanami. But it doesn’t anymore.

The first thing to migrate to his home, was your face lotion. He has a face lotion, a perfectly serviceable one, but you insisted on bringing your own. Your routine was important to you, you had told him, and Nanami understood. Routines, rules, structure – these are all things he has always respected, found meaning in. And so, in his bathroom, his drugstore razor, toothbrush, and facewash sat together, lined up like toy soldiers, right next to a luxurious indigo jar of face cream.

The rest of your routine follows shortly: the lilac bottle of mist that smells like aloe, the golden serum that smells like summertime, and the periwinkle tube of your green tea face wash. Your bergamot and sandalwood soap linger on his pillow, and when he can’t smell you on his sheets anymore, longing sits heavy and sticky in his throat.

Your clothes are next. Amidst his practical navy, gray, and blacks, appear pops of warm lilac, royal blue, and torched orange. He doesn’t mind it in the least – it would be entirely unreasonable for him to demand that you stop bringing such colorful clothes in his home, especially when he never really wants you to leave.

When the two of you finally just bite the bullet and put your name on the lease, Nanami imagines that his life will certainly become more colorful. But he doesn’t have the first idea of how many more things will be in his house.

All his life, Nanami has lived quietly, abstemiously. He is a jujutsu sorcerer – while his non-sorcerer peers were learning trigonometry, he was learning how to kill curses and how to die as a soldier dies: with resolve and bravery, to the bitterest end. His life has been fat trimmed from steak, practical solid color towels, plastic storage bins with plenty of clearing near the edge, never packed to capacity. A man who walks on the very edge of life and death doesn’t require more than the necessities. The very few things he indulges in are sensible: good whiskey, grade A rice, custom leather shoes (no broguing) built to take a beating.

You bring in your life to his, and it is completely different. You’re striped linens, fresh flowers, scented candles on every corner. Baby blue drinking glasses shaped like beer cans, artisanal ceramicware made by friends locally. Your life is marked by comfort, simple pleasure, and (dare he say it) the sweetest, most innocent frivolity. He supposes it’s really what he loves most about you, honestly. He’s always tended drawn closer to brighter, bolder personalities: earnest and warm, like Haibara and Itadori, not bombastic and irreverent, like Gojo or Tsukumo. You belong in the same shades of sunlight as Haibara and Itadori, but…tender. Like the dream-like throw of warm, rose tipped dawn that thaws the chill of his lonely apartment.

Now, in the mornings, he doesn’t wake to the desolate silence of a man alone. He wakes to the sound of your fluffy slippers in the kitchen, the smell of dark roast coffee, the sight of your toiletries sitting side by side in the bathroom, cozy and couple-like.

Somewhere between your checker print tea kettle, and the warmth of your body on the sheets, Nanami falls so in love with you that he looks back on his life and wonders how he ever lived, starved of the sun that is you, for so long.

[blurredcolour]

You Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under | Part Two

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Dick Winters x Female SOE Agent!Reader

Dick's mandated dose of civilization puts him, quite literally, on a collision course with someone he had not expected to see again.

Warnings: Discussion of Injuries and Death, Hints of PTSD, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Language, Mature/Explicit Themes [handjob, fingering, vaginal sex, condoms] - 18+ ONLY.

Note: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal of Dick Winters by Damian Lewis. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within. Non-English is denoted in italics.

Word Count: 6723

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

Paris – December 10, 1944

Seeing your roommate off on her train to Arnhem was not exactly how you’d pictured spending your first day off in months. But Lucy had become a close friend to you over the past several weeks you’d shared the relatively luxurious accommodations, and she was all nerves as she headed even closer to the German border. Dressed in your Canadian Women’s Army Corp uniform with Lucy, or Luus in her native Dutch, in her Women’s Royal Navy Service uniform, you had helped her cart her belongings to Gare du Nord to catch her train.

Neither of you had technically trained in the respective uniforms you wore, instead coming to the service by way of the Strategic Operations Executive, due to your language abilities and other skills. Lucy’s family had only very recently moved to England from the Netherlands and her mastery of the Dutch language would be an asset to the Allied headquarters being established in Arnhem. Similarly, you were expecting to spend the rest of the war working in Paris. Exchanging knives and explosives for typewriter ribbon and file folders. Your feelings on the matter oscillated between relief and impotence on a daily basis, but you had little say in the matter.

Waiting until her train was pulling its way out of the station, you began making your way through the flood of passengers disembarking from another train that had pulled in across the platform. Several people bumped into you but only one apologized.

“Sorry –” Spoke a voice you’d probably recognize just about anywhere before he repeated. “Excusez-moi.”

You spun around quickly, eyes going wide as the Lieutenant from Normandy stood before you, sending your thoughts hurtling back to early June. You had been gasping for breath – the proximity of the detonation had driven the air from your lungs, compounded by the now dead weight of the German solider on top of you. An obnoxious ringing had taken up residence in your ears, obscuring any and all other sound as you had futilely pushed at the burden above you, shock weakening your muscles. The ground had begun to tremble then, an immediately recognizable sign that tanks were approaching, increasing the beat of your heart to a frantic rate as you lay essentially incapacitated in the road.

Suddenly the pressure above you had eased and you had frozen, holding your breath and closing your eyes, unable to determine just who exactly was intervening in your situation. When a pair of fingers found the pulse in your neck and two sets of hands lifted you from the road, you had risked cracking your eyelids only to be greeted by the sight of the Lieutenant carrying you by your knees. His face had been wreathed in sunlight, sea-glass green eyes striking in the shadow cast beneath his helmet, looking practically ethereal as he had moved you to safety.

Brought back to the present by the realization that you were gaping at him like a startled rabbit, lost in your memories, your eyes flicked to the cap on his head and confidently noted his promotion. “A captain now.”

“A Canadian now.” He replied as his own eyes settled on the patch embroidered on your shoulder. “Or were you always, Charlotte?” The hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his green eyes met yours.

Your throat clenched at the name, and you swallowed hard to clear it before smiling even wider than before. “I’m sorry you’ve got me confused with my good friend Charlotte Roussel. She’s told me all about you.” You offered your hand to shake as you introduced yourself properly, no pseudonym this time, only your real name.

Taking your gloved hand in his, he shook it firmly with a bemused expression playing on his face. “Dick Winters. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Captain. If you are in need of a place to stay, I happen to have a recently vacated room in my apartment I would be happy to loan to you, free of charge. The hotels in Paris would love nothing more than to liberate you of your American dollars.” You hazarded a guess that he was on a short leave based on the small bag he carried at his side.

“I wouldn’t want to impose…” His denial was half-hearted, leaving you with an opening to convince him.

“Not at all. Besides, Charlotte would not forgive me if I did not repay you for saving her life.” You insisted with a nod, not missing the way his eyes slid to your forehead. You flexed your fingers at your sides, willing them to remain there rather than nervously checking that your hair was covering the still-healing scar.

“If I remember it correctly, she saved mine first.”

“Please it’s just a short subway ride.” You gestured down the significantly emptier platform and he nodded his assent, turning to follow you.

You helped him purchase his fare, his unfamiliarity with the local currency somehow charming, before guiding him underground. Securing a pair of seats by the door, he had barely slid into place before someone was calling your name from further down the carriage.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back.” You apologized before hurrying over to greet one of your colleagues, a staff assistant to one of the officers at headquarters.

He asked you all about your plans for your days off while not-so-subtly trying to find out more about the American soldier you had boarded the subway with. It was an easy topic to skirt around by encouraging him to talk about his recent promotion and his new French girlfriend, but you found your eyes glancing at Captain Winters as his posture seemed to grow more and more rigid.

“Sorry to cut you off, First Sergeant Danvers, but I’ll see you in the office on Tuesday.” You excused yourself as politely but as firmly as possible before returning to stand beside the Captain, very carefully setting your hand on his shoulder.

“Captain?” You asked softly, swallowing as he looked to you sharply before slowly exhaling. “Next stop is ours.”

He nodded and gathered his things, following you off the train at the station and up the stairs back into the light of day. Your apartment lay in a building that had been requestioned by the British army, not two blocks from the station, on the second floor. The previous owners had fled in the face of German occupation and left some furnishings which you were using, though more beds were slated for delivery in January with the arrival of further CWACs. Unlocking the door, you led Captain Winters into the foyer, carefully removing your uniform cap to hang by the door.

“Kitchen is on the left, living room overlooks the street, bedrooms and the bathroom are this way.” You led him down a corridor to the room that Lucy had just vacated, retrieving her apartment key from the nightstand. “So you can come-and-go as you please.”

He took it carefully after tucking his garrison cap into his belt, setting his bag on the freshly made bed. “This is extremely kind of you, thank you again.”

Now that you were no longer in public, you licked your lips, feeling as though you owed him a proper explanation. “I considered our accounts balance, Captain, once you helped me retrieve my men. Therefore, I owe you for saving my life.”

Captain Winters eyed you intensely as he registered your use of ‘I’ and ‘my.’

“I’ve seen you wear many different costumes…how close to your real persona is this one?” He asked, looking over your CWAC uniform curiously.

“The closest, honestly, though I don’t feel like I’ve really earned the Sergeant’s stripes, they are necessary to explain my presence so far forward. The war is over for Charlotte, France all-but liberated, yet I still have skills to contribute. And my British accent is sh – shameful.” You corrected yourself with a smirk, recalling his distaste for coarse language, enjoying the twitch of his lips in response. “I’m assisting with translation in the Allied offices here. The delay in relaying them to England is no longer necessary.”

“So, really a Canadian.” He confirmed.

“Yes, and you know my real name, too.” You nodded reassuringly. “But I’m assuming you’d like to see more of Paris than just this apartment?” You laughed and he nodded quickly. “Would you like a guide or –”

The ‘yes’ was out of his mouth before you even had the chance to give him an out and you bowed your head lest he see the smile that pulled from you.

“That is, if you’re free and willing…” He amended, tone sheepish.

“It’s the least I can do for the man who saved me from being crushed by a tank.” You smirked and he chuckled before his eyes widened.

“I still have your knife, back at the base.” He frowned.

You grinned a little, shaking your head. “Good. That’s good.” Echoing his words to you when he realized your hearing had returned. “Keep it. It saw me through a lot of things. I hope it does the same for you.”

He eyed you a moment. “Thank you…for your honesty, and the knife.” He clarified.

“I apologize that I cannot always be honest with you, but I will endeavour to do so as circumstances permit. Now, I’m assuming you haven’t had lunch?”

“Not yet, no.”

“There’s an excellent café not far from here, shall we?” You led him back out through the foyer, snagging your cap on the way by, the pair of you taking a moment on the threshold to secure your uniform cover before you locked the door and headed back outside.

The streets were filled with soldiers on leave, but with his height and bright red hair, it was difficult to lose him in the crowd. Securing a table outside, you walked him through the menu before ordering on his behalf in French.

“Where did you learn to speak it so well?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Oxford.” You swallowed hesitantly as not many men appreciated the fact that you had studied at university, let alone a prestigious school in England. To your great relief he titled his head back and simply laughed.

“Nix would be so jealous to hear you say that…” He shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee as it was delivered.

“Lieutenant Nixon?” You clarified, taking the time to add the packet of Saccharin that you had requested to sweeten the bitter liquid.

“He’s a captain now, but yes. A Yale man, but not an Oxford man.”

You laughed in relief, sipping your own beverage once it was slightly more palatable.

“What took you there?”

“Scholarship, and my uncle, my mother’s brother, lived there. The opportunity to go to Europe was difficult to pass up. I began my undergraduate degree in 1938.”

He shook his head, presumably at the timing. “Did you manage to finish?”

You nodded quickly. “Graduated with a major in French, minor in German in the spring of 1942.”

He hummed thoughtfully, the strategic value of those two languages going unspoken in such a crowded space.

“How about yourself?” You prompted as your food arrived, laying your napkin across your lap.

“I went to Franklin & Marshall College in Pennsylvania – definitely not Oxford or Yale. Graduated with an Economics degree in ’41. Tried to get my military service out of the way early but then Pearl Harbor happened and well, here I am…” He shrugged, tucking into his food.

The pair of you spent a good hour, trading questions back and forth between bites of your food, learning about your families, where you had grown up, why you had joined the war effort.

“My uncle was killed during an air raid in London in May of 1941. He’d gone to visit a friend and stayed the night – apparently, they had tried to drink the pub dry.” You shook your head fondly in memory. “The Luftwaffe decided to bomb the neighborhood that night, neither of them even made it into the shelter. I almost quit my studies the next day to join FANY or become a Land Girl or just…do something useful.” You sighed leaning back in your chair as the waitstaff came to collect your empty plates, avoiding Captain Winters’ gaze, though you could feel his eyes on your cheek. “Friend of mine convinced me I could do more good if I finished what I started – that my language skills would be put to good use once I honed them.”

“Sounds like a wise friend.” He replied softly and you turned to him.

“They are. Helped me get where I am today.” You nodded meaningfully, a movement which he mirrored in unspoken understanding. “Anyway, I’m meant to be showing you around.” You forced a smile and summoned the bill, though Captain Winters beat you to punch by laying a large number of francs on the table, not allowing you to pay for your own meal. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He replied, pulling out your chair once he’d received his change.

Leading him along the historic streets you showed him some of the more famous sites, waiting patiently as he picked up a pack of postcards to send home as the sun began to set.

“There’s a popular restaurant just up the street, did you want to try and get a table for dinner?” You offered once he rejoined you, tucking his purchase into his pocket.

“That would be nice, yes.” He nodded, his hand hovering just above your lower back as you navigated your way along the crowded sidewalk to the restaurant.

Placing your name on the waitlist, the pair of you were idling patiently in the foyer when your direct report Major Wilkes stepped out of the dining room, making you stand up straighter. “Good evening, sir.”

He looked over to you and the American Captain standing tall at your side, greeting you in kind. “Enjoying your well-earned rest, Sergeant?” He asked warmly.

“Yes sir, thank you again.”

“You’ve earned it.” He reminded you with a laugh.

“Major Wilkes, may I present Captain Winters of the 101st Airborne.” You introduced the men to one another properly as you recalled your manners.

The two shook hands and exchanged pleasantries before Major Wilkes turned back to the maître d,’ murmuring something neither of you could hear. “See you on Tuesday, Sergeant. Enjoy your time in Paris, Captain.”

“Good night, sir.” You smiled, glancing at the Captain before the maître d’ was calling your name to seat you, ahead of several other groups who had been waiting longer.

“Your CO seems to like you.” Captain Winters murmured once you were settled at a table a few rows back from the dancefloor, not too close to the bandstand.

“Major Wilkes is a good man, easy to work for.” You nodded, setting your cap on the empty chair beside you.

“I’m glad. And grateful.” He lifted the menu, and you leaned in once more to walk him through the options, swallowing as he smelled of Brylcreem and aftershave.

Conversation didn’t flow as easily once the band started playing, couples crowding the dancefloor as you enjoyed some delicious yet overpriced food. The Captain seemed to be watching you closely, glancing between you and the dancefloor, until a slow song began to play, and he leaned in. “Would you like to dance?”

Dabbing at the corner of your mouth with your napkin you nodded quickly, heart leaping into your throat as he pulled out your chair to help you stand. You set your hand in his, following him onto the crowded dancefloor as he set one hand on your waist, the other held out to the side in his as he swayed with you to the music. Neither of you were particularly talented dancers, but you could not deny how lovely it felt to be held this close by him. You glanced at him with a shy smile, certain the tips of his ears were pink, though it may have been the dim lighting, before you looked to the side as you nibbled your lip, trying to even out your breathing.

Belatedly you realized that Captain Winters was speaking to you, into your right ear, which had never fully recovered from your roadside escapade in Normandy. It had a habit of being particularly uncooperative in crowded, noisy places such as this. Registering the vibrations of his voice you turned your head quickly to look up at him. “I’m so sorry could you repeat that please?” You asked before offering him your left ear.

After a moment or two of nothing but music you turned back to see him frowning deeply.

“Oh, Captain, please, it’s the only thing, and then only sometimes, not always.” You tried to reassure him, reaching out to smooth the furrow of his brow with your fingertips.

“Please call me Dick.” He replied, leaning towards your left ear as he spoke.

“Alright, Dick.” You exhaled, your heart fluttering erratically as you turned your head to press your lips against his softy.

His feet stopped moving altogether, hand clasping yours tighter as you felt the fingers of his other hand curling into the back of your uniform jacket. His lips pressed closer to yours, drawing a barely audible sigh through your nose, until another couple carelessly bumped into you, jolting you apart. Dick carefully steadied you and you squeezed his hand, leading him back to the table to grab you cap. He flagged down a waiter and, infuriatingly, paid yet again before leading you out in the dim streets out black-out Paris.

“I was trying to save you money, not make you spend it all.” You gently chastised him, almost stepping off the curb in front of a cyclist you did not hear approaching from the right.

His arm quickly slid around your shoulders, pulling you close into his chest just before they zoomed by spewing curses in their wake. “Careful. I already told you it’s my pleasure.” He assured you before offering his arm.

“Thanks, Dick.” You took it slowly, trying not to let your frustration show. You had previously excelled at navigating dark places and now you were forced to rely on the guidance of others. Taking a fortifying breath, you began leading him along the sidewalk. “I thought we’d walk home, the subway didn’t seem to agree with you?” You asked carefully.

“I’d appreciate that.” He replied, keeping an eye out for further obstacles hidden by the shadows of the black out as the pair of you made your way back to the apartment in companionable silence.

“I just need to close the curtains before we turn on the lights, one moment.” You left Dick in the foyer, setting your cap on the hook by the door before tugging the black out curtains closed in each room, turning the lights on as you made your way back to him. “Sorry about that I wasn’t thinking when we left.”

He shook his head softly, watching you quietly from right where you’d asked him to wait. “Do you think it would be all right if I were to take a hot bath tonight?"

You smiled warmly and nodded. “Absolutely alright, I’ll get you set up.”

Leading him to the bathroom you set out some towels and the bar of soap, turning to him. “There should be plenty of hot water at this time of night, the boiler will have had time to refill. Anything else you need before I leave you to it?”

His lips quirked into a tentative smile. “Yes, might I kiss you goodnight?”

Your pulse quickened as you tried not to smile like a buffoon. “Please.” Your voice waivered slightly, much to your annoyance, but mercifully it did not seem to deter Dick.

He stepped forward, hands cupping the sides of your face tenderly as he angled your lips to meet his. Gripping his forearms to steady yourself, you came to realize that Dick was a different man when he set his mind to something. You had simply taken him by surprise on the dancefloor. This kiss was altogether more assertive and left you breathless as he pulled back.

“Goodnight.” He smiled gently, nose brushing the hair from your forehead to press his lips to the scar there softly.

“Night.” You exhaled, eyes fluttering shut briefly at the surge of emotions that unleashed within you, taking a steady breath before you were able to smile dreamily and slip out.

Retiring to your room, you unpinned your hair carefully before sliding into your cotton nightgown, pulling your quilted housecoat overtop and settling onto the double bed left by the apartments previous owners to do some reading while you waited your turn to use the washroom. Fully absorbed in the novel that Lucy had left for you, you were surprised when you noted that over an hour had passed since you had opened your book. Frowning, you slid your bookmark into place before cracking the door open slightly and peering down the hall, startled to see the bathroom door still closed while the door to the other bedroom remained open.

Gnawing on your lower lip you walked to the end of hall, knocking gently on the door. “Dick?” You waited, frown deepening as there was no response. Your main concern that he had fallen asleep in the deep claw-footed tub, at great risk of drowning. Knocking more firmly, you called his name again. “I’m coming in if you don’t answer.” You warned, giving it a slow count to ten before stepping into the humid washroom, careful to keep your eyes well above the waterline.

True to your concern, the man was sound asleep, thankfully with his head bent back over the edge of the tub, a washcloth cushioning his neck. Impressed by the level of comfort he must be feeling to sleep through all the noise you were making, you took a step closer, calling his name yet again. Kneeling beside the tub with your back to his lower body, you focused on his peacefully sleeping face, shaking your head in awe before reaching out to touch his shoulder.

He jolted awake, sending now-tepid water sloshing over the side of the tub and down your housecoat onto the backs of your calves. You let out an involuntary gasp at the temperature shock.

“Aw heck, I’m so sorry I…” His hands quickly dove under the water to cover himself.

“It’s alright, I’m glad you’re ok.” You smiled, waving off his concern and leaned in to kiss his cheek before moving to stand.

“Before you leave uh, could you uh pass the soap?” He’d gone red to the tips of his ears.

You bit the inside of your cheek to smother your grin and fetched it from atop the towel behind you. As you turned back to him, your eyes accidentally fell on the length of his body beneath the water, hands still firmly cupping between his legs. Unable to look away, to think, to move, Dick’s voice brought you back to reality.

“You alright, honey?” He asked softly and your eyes snapped to his face as the term of endearment dripped from his lips.

“More than alright.” You breathed in reply, seized by the need to lay your hands on his pearly white skin smattered in a constellation of freckles. Shrugging out of your housecoat you were left in your ankle-length nightgown with frills of lace at the shoulders. “May I help?” You tilted your head, kneeling at the edge of the tub once more.

He watched you with wide eyes, seeming unable to avert his gaze this time before his adam’s apple bobbed violently at your question. You waited patiently until he gave you one sharp nod, dipping the bar of soap into the water before you began to drag it along his neck and chest, sliding it beneath his dog tags. Their metallic jangle was the loudest sound in the washroom. You took a moment to rinse his skin clean with your other hand before repeating the pattern with his upper arms and abdomen, shifting to the bottom of the tub to do the same with his calves and feet. You did not miss the way his breaths grew heavier, lips parting slightly, his eyes never once leaving your face.

“Can I wash your hands?” You ask, biting your lip as he only offered one as the other tried and failed to hide his erection.

Swallowing thickly, you focused on washing it thoroughly – between each finger and up to his elbow, rinsing the suds from his skin before holding your hand out for the other.  He set it in yours boldly, meeting your eyes, no longer feeling the need to hide from you as his clean hand gripped the edge of the tub. Once his second hand was clean you leaned in to press your lips to his, trailing the soap down his abdomen once more before dipping it to his left hip then sweeping it back up to before repeating the motion to his right. His breath shuddered against your lips, and you pulled back to look over his face.

“Ok?” You breathed, throat constricting at his blown pupils, and he nodded violently before sliding a hand to the back of your neck to pull you closer, kissing you hungrily. You traced your fingers along the length of him, reveling in the shiver that wracked his body. Abandoning the bar of soap, you wrapped your hand around him fully, running your tongue along his bottom lip as his mouth fell open with a soft gasp.

It was a noise you soon echoed as his tongue slid forward to meet yours, licking into your mouth teasingly at first before he was confidently dominating the kiss. Bracing your free hand against his shoulder, you began to move your first along his length in earnest, lips curling against his as his knees bent before falling open, sloshing still more water from the tub. You could feel the cotton of your nightgown wicking the water higher along the material, surely become more and more translucent with each bit of moisture, yet you remained undeterred.

Forced to part from his lips to suck in a greedy breath to soothe the ache in your lungs, you experimentally swiped your thumb across the tip of his cock, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as his head fell back with a moan, hips nudging towards your hand needily. Encouraged, you made a point of repeating that motion, paying special attention to the head as you reached the apex of each pull. You watched the way his eyebrows knit together, listened to the pants and breathy grunts, felt further onslaughts of water as his hips bucked to your touch. Your thighs pressed together as you felt your panties grow damp in response, desperate for some friction of your own, but nonetheless thoroughly enjoying the act of pleasuring him.

“Honey, I’m…” He lifted his head to look at you quickly, voice tense, jaw muscles ticking.

You nodded eagerly and his fingers, which had been clinging to the back of your neck this entire time, hauled you in to plant his lips against yours fiercely. You happily swallowed his hoarse shout as his hips surged up into your grip, cock twitching as you felt him release into the now-cold bathwater. Stroking him through his release, you placed gentle kisses across his cheeks before shifting your hand to stroke his side.

“That was…” He sighed, speechless before brushing his lips against yours gratefully, cheeks still flushed.

“I’m glad.” You smiled shyly, brushing your nose against his. “Now come on that water is cold.” You murmured, standing and holding open a towel for him.

He gave you a crooked grin before pulling the plug from the drain and leveraging himself to his feet, stepping onto the rather wet bathmat and taking the towel to wrap around his waist. It was only then he properly noticed how much of your skin he could see through the damp patches of your nightgown. “I splashed you quite a bit, didn’t I. Sorry about that.” He murmured.

“I have another nightgown I can change into, don’t worry about it.” You assured him, reaching for your housecoat, but his arms slid around your waist, pulling you against his still-wet torso, drawing a gasp from your chest.

“Don’t bother.” He muttered before kissing you deeply.

Fingers digging into his biceps you squeaked against his lips as he began to shuffle you backwards, shocked that he was confidently leading you through your own apartment nearly blind. Reaching your bedroom, he looked to you softly, gathering the fabric of your nightgown in his hands. “May I?”

You nodded, licking your kiss-swollen lips, before the flurry of sodden cotton obscured your view. He lay it over your desk chair, turning back to you and exhaling reverently.

“You are so beautiful, honey.”

“Dick…” You whispered shyly in protest, but he shook his head, long fingers cradling your face tenderly to force your eyes to meet his.

“So beautiful.” He repeated, guiding you to lay on the bed.

Sliding on the mattress next to you, his lips began to map the skin on your jaw, body braced on his left arm while his right slid along your collarbone. Delving your fingers into his short ginger locks, you sighed warmly, tilting your head to offer more skin to his exploring mouth. Touch featherlight, his fingertips traced down the swell of your breast, making you arch towards his hand in invitation as he trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. You rewarded him with a soft moan as he cupped your tender flesh fully, gently kneading the weight of it in his warm palm, your nails brushing against his scalp.

As he reached the hollow of your throat, he darted his tongue out to lap at the skin there, making you writhe sightly beneath him. The contrast of his warm skin and the rough metal of his dog tags pressing against you was making your head swim. The addition of his tongue as he lapped at the supple flesh of your breast had you mewling breathlessly, once again pressing your thighs together to try and assuage the sheer need you felt. His hand slid along your side, progress slowing as his fingertips encountered the long, jagged scar there. It was well-healed by now, but still raised to the touch. He swiped his thumb along it tenderly before his hand moved to your hip, giving a gentle squeeze before skirting down your thigh. Exhaling shakily, you parted your legs for him, the pair of you gasping as his fingers cupped between your thighs.

“Dick.” You whimpered.

“Ok?” He looked to your face quickly and you nodded rapidly, lifting your hips to help him slid your panties down and off your legs.

 Your eyes fluttered shut as his fingers returned to trace your folds before carefully parting them. His thumb came to circle your clit, the callous on the edge of his digit working wonders as his index finger dipped into the entrance to your warmth, teasing you.

“Oh my god..sh…” You belatedly caught your curse, not missing the way he chuckled against your shoulder before pressing his lips to your skin fondly. You forced your eyes open to look at him, if a bit blearily, but the smug bastard only replied by sinking his finger fully into you. “Christ!” You moaned richly, completely losing control of your manners, and your volume, as he stroked it along your silken walls before adding another.

Graciously, he pressed his lips to yours to smother any further curses his actions might have drawn from you, and you moaned richly against his tongue as you clung to his shoulders. You barely even noticed the way his dog tags were knocking into your chin, but he insisted on pulling back for a moment to swing them behind his neck before sliding a second finger into you. Your thighs began to tremble as you bucked wildly towards his hand, panting against his lips.

“P..please…” You pleaded, so very close, not wanting him to lose interest in your pleasure as your only other partner had seemed want to do.

“I’ve got you, honey, I’ve got you.” He reassured you, the pace of his fingers increasing until your thighs clamped down around his hand. Hastily, he covered your mouth with his as he felt your walls begin to flutter, smothering your wail as your nails dug into his skin slightly.

Chest heaving, you pulled back from his lips to try and catch your breath, body still trembling with small aftershocks of pleasure. Dick gently slid his fingers from your body, your breath hitching in your throat before you smiled at him fondly.

“Good?” He asked softly, smoothing the hair from your face tenderly.

“Very good.” You reassured him, pecking his lips warmly.

They curled against yours in a soft grin before he whispered your name as you tugged the very loose towel from his lips to find his cock fully erect once more.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking to you.

“Do you have a condom?” You asked and he paused a moment before nodding.

“I’ll be right back.” He quickly secured the towel around his waist again, making you chew your lip fondly as he dashed out of the room. He was not gone a full minute before he returned with several individually wrapped paper packets, making you raise an eyebrow.

“Optimistic man.”

He laughed under his breath. “It’s cold tonight, I didn’t want to have to leave this room again.” He explained, shutting the door behind him before shedding the towel and climbing into bed with you.

Working together, you secured the latex sheath over his length before Dick settled between your thighs. He rested his weight on his right forearm beside your head, fingertips stroking your hair as he took his cock in hand. “Ok, honey?”

He checked one last time and your hearth clenched warmly as you reached out to cup his cheek. “Yes.” You reassured him, running your thumb along his lower lip.

He pressed a kiss to the pad of your thumb before rolling his hips forward, carefully sinking into your warmth, his fingers, now free of their burden, lacing with yours and pining your hand to the pillow. His jaw hung open as your body welcomed him inch by inch, stretching to envelope him completely until his pelvis nestled snuggly against yours.

“Mhmm!” You keened, rocking up against him eager for him to move as he brought a feeling of completion that you’d never felt before.

His fingers flexed in your grip before he began the push and pull to build another orgasm within you, his grunts and breathy moans blended with words of adoration, all directed into your left ear. The mixture of it all – the pleasure, the care, the emotions – brought tears to your eyes and praise tumbled from your own lips in return.

“So good, Dick.”

“Like an angel, honey.”

“Just like that, yes!”

“Only you can make me feel this good.”

“Oh, Dick I’m…I’m gonna…”

“Yes honey, let go.”

You pressed your face tightly to his neck, your knees hugging his hips tightly as your back bowed with the force your release, an anguished cry of pleasure wrenched from your throat as you clamped down tightly around him. His rich groan followed shortly after as he rocked tightly against you in the throes of his own climax. Pulling from you slowly, he carefully rolled to lay beside you, the pair of you grinning up at the ceiling stupidly for a moment before you rolled onto your side to kiss his cheek.

Collecting the used condom, despite his protests, you padded to the washroom to run through your night routine at last, gratefully sliding into the housecoat to turn out the lights before returning to find him waiting for you beneath the quilt. Dick immediately pulled you into his chest as you slid into the bed and kissed your forehead.

As his fingers pulled at the tie of your housecoat, however, you could not help but laugh. “Really?”

He chuckled in return, pressing a kiss to your jaw before his fingers darted beneath the warm fabric to find the scar on your side. “What happened?” He asked softly and your throat clenched at the concern in his voice.

“Bayonet.” You replied quietly, frowning as his eyes jerked up to meet yours in the low light of the bedside lamp you’d left on. “I was lucky, really.” You smiled fondly at his incredulous look. “He tried firing on me first, but his weapon jammed, and then he got so flustered he barely stuck me.” You ran your fingers through his hair soothingly as you spoke.

 “This looks like a little more than barely.” He countered flatly and you kissed him softly.

“I was furious. First mission and I made it all of four days before I got hurt.” You shook your head. “A sympathetic doctor stitched me up and then it was a long way back to England to heal.”

“So, I met you on your…” He prompted, thumb sweeping along your scarred flesh as though he might erase the mark with his touch.

“Second.” You nodded. “And last in a way. I’ll never be able to do those things again with my right ear the way it is…” You grimaced and it was his turn to kiss you reassuringly.

“You’ve done more than enough, honey, more than should have ever been asked of you. And yet you’re still here, in a uniform, helping all the same.”

Pressing your forehead to his you sighed fondly. “Thank you.”

“We should get some sleep.” He murmured, pulling you close into his chest so he could reach with a long arm to turn off the lamp behind you.

It proved difficult to leave his arms for the rest of his time in Paris, though you managed to see to it that you remained fed despite Dick’s efforts to tire you out completely. Not a single condom went to waste. As he lay sleeping in the late afternoon, you took the opportunity to write a letter for him to carry with him – not knowing where he would find himself next, nor when you’d have the chance to see him again. Seized by the radical idea to package it up with some small token, you pried the badge from your cap, hoping the three silver maple leaves would make him think of you. Folding the badge within the letter, you tucked it into the front pocket of his luggage, fully prepared to feign complete astonishment when its absence was noted by Major Wilkes, or whomever noticed first.

Early Tuesday morning, you delivered Dick to Gare du Nord to catch the first train back to Mourmelon-le-Grand, unable to ignore the way he crossed his arms against the chilly north wind that seemed to herald to arrival of winter. Glancing at the drab olive wool scarf dangling around your neck you bit your lip as you reached the platform before sliding it off. Grasping each end, as Dick turned to say goodbye, you carefully slung it over his shoulders.

“Keep warm, Dick.”

His eyes widened. “I can’t take this from you, you’ll freeze.”

“I can get a new one easily.” With your hands still on the ends of the scarf you pulled him in to kiss him softly. “Good luck out there.” You repeated your parting words from Normandy.

His hands rose to cup your cheeks one last time as his eyes traced over the features of your face as if to commit it to memory. “I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

You nodded quickly, all possible responses congealing into a lump in your throat that made it impossible to speak. The rumble of the approaching train shattered the intensity of the moment and he quickly pressed one final kiss to your forehead before reluctantly stepping back, turning only at the last moment to step into the carriage. You stood rooted to the spot, only able to inhale tiny sips of air lest you shatter into tears, until it disappeared out of sight.

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

Read Part Three

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Tag list: @allthingsimagines, @bcon24

[aimeedaisies]

The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in May 2024

01/05 On behalf of The King, held an Investiture at Buckingham Palace. 🎖️

As President of the City and Guilds of London Institute, attended The Princess Royal Training Awards Alumni Skills Summit at Guildhall. 🏆

With Sir Tim As Patron of the Whitley Fund for Nature, attended the Annual Whitley Awards Ceremony at the Royal Geographical Society. 🦋

02/05 With Sir Tim Named a Great Western Railway Intercity Express Train ‘HRH The Princess Royal’ at Paddington Railway Station. 🚉

Unofficial With Sir Tim Attended day two of the Royal Windsor Horse Show. 🐎

03/05 With Sir Tim Departed the UK from Stansted Airport for Canada and arrived at Vancouver International Airport

HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Vancouver;

Attended the Commissioning Ceremony for HMCS MAX BERNAYS at North Vancouver Burrard Drydock, before attending a Reception onboard. ⛴️ 🇨🇦

Attended a Dinner onboard HMCS MAX BERNAYS at sea. 🍽️

04/05 HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Victoria;

Toured HMCS Max Bernays at sea. 🌊

Visited Esquimalt Military Family Resource Centre at the Canadian Forces Base Esquimalt. 👪🪖

As President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, visited God’s Acre Cemetery and laid a wreath at the Memorial. 🌹

Visited the Maritime Museum of British Columbia Archive. 📜⚓️

Her Royal Highness afterwards visited Fed Urban Agriculture Society Urban Farm, 395 Harbour Road. 🌾

Attended a Reception given by the Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia (the Hon Janet Austin) at Government House. 🥂

Attended a Dinner given by the Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia at Government House. 🍽️

05/05 HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Victoria;

Visited Government House Gardens. 🪴⛲️

Attended the Battle of the Atlantic Memorial Parade at the Parliament Building and laid a wreath at the Cenotaph before taking the salute at the march past of Canadian Armed Forces Veterans, Serving Personnel and Cadets. 🫡

Attended a Royal Victoria Yacht Club Youth Dinghy Regatta. 🛥️

As Patron of the Canadian Therapeutic Riding Association, visited Victoria Therapeutic Riding Association. 🐎

Departed Vancouver International Airport for the United Kingdom. 🇨🇦✈️🇬🇧

06/05 Arrived at Heathrow Airport from Canada 🇨🇦✈️🇬🇧

08/05 Hosted a garden party at Buckingham Palace alongside The King and Queen, The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh and The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. 🍃☀️🪴

As Patron of the Woolf Institute, attended a Reception, followed by a Dinner, to launch the Randeree End of Life Programme. 🥂🍽️

09/05 As Patron of the Royal Navy and Royal Marines Charity, visited the Headquarters at HMS Excellent in Portsmouth. ⚓️

As Patron of the Women’s Royal Naval Service Benevolent Trust, attended the Annual Presentation and Reception at the National Museum of the Royal Navy. 🏛️

As Patron of the Association of Wrens, opened the new Headquarters Building at Lanyard House, HM Naval Base. 🫡

With Sir Tim As Patron of the National Museum of the Royal Navy, visited the HMS Victory Conservation Project at HM Naval Base ⚓️

With Sir Tim As Patron of the National Museum of the Royal Navy, attended the HMS Victory Conservation Project Dinner onboard HMS Victory at HM Naval Base. ⚓️🍽️

10/05 As Patron of Catch22, visited Greater Manchester Victims’ Services at Greater Manchester Police Headquarters. 👮

Visited the East Manchester Community Boat Project at Portland Basin Museum Marina in Ashton-Under-Lyne to mark its 30th Anniversary. 🛥️🎂

11/05 unofficial With Sir Tim Went to Badminton Horse Trials to cheer on Zara Tindall in her Cross Country stage of the three day event. 🏇🏼

13/05 Visited Stonehaven Open Air Swimming Pool to mark its 90th Anniversary. 🏊‍♀️🍾🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

As Admiral of the Sea Cadet Corps and Marine Society and Sea Cadets, opened Stonehaven and District New Headquarters. ⚓️🫡 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

14/05 With Sir Tim As Patron of the United Kingdom Sailing Academy held a Founders’ Club Luncheon at St James’s Palace. ⛵️

As Chancellor of the University of London, attended the King’s Centre for Military Health Research Conference. 👩‍⚕️

With Sir Tim As Patron of the Wellington Trust, attended a Dinner onboard HMS WELLINGTON (mto mark the Ship’s Ninetieth Anniversary. ⚓️🥂

15/05 As Court Member of the Fishmongers’ Company, visited Glenarm Organic Salmon Fish Farm, off Glenarm Harbour in Ballymena. 🍣🚤

As Court Member of the Fishmongers’ Company, attended a Luncheon at Glenarm Castle. 🐟🍽️🏰

16/05 As Royal Patron of the National Coastwatch Institution, visited Bembridge Station, followed by a Reception at Brading Haven Yacht Club in Ryde, Isle of Wight. 🔍🌊

As President, Royal Yachting Association, opened the Sea View Yacht Club's Training Centre in Seaview, Isle of Wight. 🛥️

17/05 With Sir Tim Hosted the annual Not Forgotten Association garden party at Buckingham Palace. 🫖🍰☀️

20/05 unofficial Departed from RAF Brize Norton for Norway and landed at Oslo Gardermoen Airport. 🇬🇧✈️🇳🇴

21/05 As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Norwegian Industrial Workers Museum in Vemork, Norway. 🔨⚙️🇳🇴

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, received a briefing on the sinking of DF Hydro at Mael Station in Telemark, Norway. 🏭🇳🇴

Attended a Reception given by His Majesty’s Ambassador to the Kingdom of Norway at the Residence in Oslo. 🥂🇳🇴🇬🇧

22/05 As President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, visited Vestre Gravlund Cemetery and laid a wreath on the memorial. 🪦

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Linge Club and attended a Reception at Akershus Fortress, Oslo. 🇳🇴🇬🇧

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Norwegian Shipowners’ Mutual War Risks Insurance Association. 🪖🇳🇴

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, with The Crown Prince of Norway, visited the Norwegian Resistance Museum, Akershus Fortress. 🏰 🇳🇴

unofficial Departed from Oslo Gardermoen Airport and landed at RAF Brize Norton . 🇬🇧✈️🇳🇴

23/05 As Patron of the Hornet Services Sailing Club, visited the club for their 60th anniversary. ⛵️🎂

Opened the Army Sailing Association Offshore Centre in Gosport. ⛵️

With Sir Tim & Duke of Kent Held a Garden Party at Buckingham Palace to celebrate the Royal National Lifeboat Institution's 200th anniversary. 🛟☕️

With Sir Tim Visited the Royal Horticultural Society Chelsea Flower Show at the Royal Hospital Chelsea. 🌸🌺🌼💐

24/05 Opened the Admiral Lord Cochrane Room at the Royal United Services Institute in Whitehall, London. 🔐

Sometime in May unofficial Sir Tim, as Chair of Trustees, attended the Science Museum Groups annual dinner

Total official engagements for Anne in May: 53

2024 total so far: 224

Total official engagements accompanied by Tim in May: 23

2024 total so far: 55

FYI - due to certain royal family members being off ill/in recovery I won't be posting everyone's engagement counts out of respect, I am continuing to count them and release the totals at the end of the year.

[wordsbyrian]

Royal Navy - Alessia Russo x Reader

Summary: Royal Navy!R was childhood friends with Less and things ended sort of poorly between them, they meet again. years later.

A/N: Alright so I don't know a lot about the Royal Navy but I do know a lot about the US Navy so everything in here is a combination of research and filling in the blanks with American military knowledge.

Sometimes, life doesn’t give you everything you want.

Correction, most of the time life doesn’t give you anything you want. This explains the conversation that you’re currently having while sitting in your girlfriend’s room.

“I just don’t know why you would want to volunteer to join the army,” she says, flopping back onto her bed.

“I’m joining the Navy, Less,” you tell her for what must be the one-thousandth time. “Besides, there's not anything for you to understand. I don’t understand why you're going to school in America but I’m not trying to stop you.”

“I’m going to play football and learn,” Alessia says, “Not signing up to get myself killed.”

“Yea, well, we all can’t be the next Kelly Smith, can we?”

“Don’t get smart with me Y/N, I don’t want to argue with you,” she says, finally sitting up to look at you.

“But you do, because if you didn’t we’d be making out not having this conversation the day before I leave for Dartmouth,” you respond, getting up from your seat at her desk, “I won’t be able to use my mobile so often I’ll  write you but don’t bother answering if you’re gonna keep at it like this.”

With that, you walk out of Alessia’s room and as a result her life.

You do hear her calling after you but you know she hasn’t changed her mind so you don’t bother turning around.

That was over 5 years ago and while you did keep your promise of writing and calling her; after your first three letters received no response, you gave up.

That doesn’t mean that you stopped cheering her on, you’ve seen all her major moments, no matter how far away you were.

Over the summer, you along with practically every other sailor on your ship watched as she along with the rest of the Lionesses conquered Europe.

And now, you’re standing on the touchline at Kingsmeadow in your dress uniform for some surprise your sister planned with Chelsea.

But if you had known they scheduled it for the weekend the Blues welcome United, you probably would’ve waited a little longer to take some leave time.

Anything would be better than having Alessia attempt to burn holes in you with only her eyes as you carry the ball out for the coin toss.

You can’t tell if she recognizes you with your hair cut so short and your body so stiff but when you hear the PA ask everyone to turn their attention to you, you know that she’ll figure it out soon if she hasn’t already.

“Everyone please join us in a round of applause,” the voice says over the speakers, “as we welcome back former Chelsea youth player, Lieutenant Commander in His Majesty’s Royal Navy, Y/N Y/L/N. Thank you for your service.”

You allow yourself to smile slightly as Emma Hayes hands you a Chelsea shirt with your name on it before a stadium hand comes to lead you to your seat.

The match is good and you enjoy it as much as you can with strangers coming up to you every two minutes.

When it ends, 2-1 Chelsea, you make your back pitchside having agreed to speak with the players in the small window of time Hayes and Skinner have managed to get them to give up.

When you're led to a back room you’re shocked to see both teams there intermingled but you quickly remember that women's football has always been much more cordial than the men’s game.

After another quick introduction from the assistant who led you there, you stand alone in front of the two teams.

“Hello,” you say, standing pretty stiffly with your hands clutching your cover behind your back. “I’m not going to introduce myself again but now seems like a good time to mention that since my dad is from Newburn, I’m a Newcastle fan.”

That gets a few scattered laughs that help to break some of the tension and ease your nerves.

“I’m supposed to be talking to you about leadership, team building, and morale but I watched the game and I can definitely say that neither team needs to hear from someone whose idea of team building is sticking people in the middle of the ocean for months at a time and seeing who can get passed their problems long enough to survive,” you say plainly, not bothering to hide your disinterest for the situation. “So I figured you can just ask me questions until they let us leave.”

Murmurs of agreement go through the group so you press on, alternating between teams to ensure you’re being fair.

Most of the questions are the normal ones you get when people find out you're in the Navy. So you explain what it means to be both a Lieutenant Commander and a Surface Warfare Officer.

There are a couple of shocked faces when you tell them that you’re trained to operate all the heavy artillery on the ships and a couple of faces that fill you with more than a bit of concern because of how glee-filled they are.

When you tell them that you joined the Navy because of family tradition you can see Alessia roll her eyes and whisper something to Toone but you divert your attention to Millie Bright, who you recognize from the time you spent training with the full team.

And based on her question it seems like she recognizes you too.

“You made some appearances with the full team, why’d you choose the Navy over football,” she asks.

Laughing a little you answer her, “I played 30 minutes in the Conti Cup and was in Hayes’ office the next day quitting. That was literally the worst half hour of my life and I almost drowned in the sinking ship exercise.”

It’s then that you notice Alessia put her hand up to ask a question and considering you want nothing more than to not have to interact with her, you ignore it getting through a few others before you notice Ella with her hand up as well.

So you make the mistake of calling on her.

“Are you ever going to let Less ask a question,” she says with an unbelievable amount of sass.

“I suppose I have to now,” you say, “Crack on, Russo.”

Alessia doesn’t take this well because she glares at you and asks in the coldest voice you’ve ever heard from her, “How’s your sister?”

Never one to be outdone when it comes to being petty you respond in kind.

“She’s fine. Your family?”

It's your words that seem to spark a realization in some of the players’ faces that the two of you know each other but before any of them have a chance to say anything the same assistant from earlier comes to tell you that you’ve completed your time agreement.

For your part, you can’t get out of the building fast enough, barely stopping by the manager's office to tell Emma bye.

Getting to your car, you rush home probably breaking a few minor traffic laws in your haste.

When you do get home, you rush past your sister, Sarah, and her husband straight to your room, where you make quick work of changing into comfy clothes so that you can hide away for the foreseeable future.

You manage to go a full two days before your sister gets sick of your bullshit and barges in opening the blinds to let light into your cave of despair.

“Alright, it’s time to get up,” she says, pulling the blankets from on top of your head.

“Fuck off,” you say, turning away from her.

“I won’t," she replies, "You’ve been locked away in here, not eating, for days. All because you had to see the girl who broke your heart at 17. Grow up.”

Rolling back over you glare at her harshly but she continues speaking before you get the chance to tell her to go away again.

“Don’t make that face at me, it won’t work,” Sarah says, plainly, “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to take a shower and then when you’re done, you’ll come eat lunch before going to walk Magpie.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument and if we’re being honest, you’ve always been appropriately cautious of pissing her off. She did practically raise you after all.

So you did what she asked.

You showered, you ate with her and her goofball husband, and now you're sitting at the park with her idiot dog that is named after a bird.

“Oi, Magpie,” you call out, getting the dog’s attention, “Stop trying to eat that rock you berk, it’s bigger than you are.”

Somewhere to your left, you hear a familiar burst of laughter that has you panicking more than a little bit.

You do your best to ignore it, hoping that she would choose any of the other benches to go sit on. But that doesn’t seem to be in the cards for you as Alessia takes a seat right next to you, her dad’s dog coming to rest at her feet.

“Hey,” you say to her, not wanting to be rude before you turn your attention to the dog, “Sup Rocco, getting up there in age, aren’t you old boy?”

Alessia laughs again and you feel your heart skip a beat and a fluttering feeling begins in your stomach.

The two of you sit in relative silence for a while, the only words spoken are from you, usually a shout at your sister’s idiot dog.

You get so used to the silence that you almost miss it when she starts speaking.

“I owe you an apology for the way I treated you at the game,” Alessia begins, “It wasn’t fair of me to treat you like that, especially in front of so many people. -So, I’m sorry I did that.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting her to say but it definitely wasn’t that, so it takes you a moment before you respond.

“I can’t accept your apology,” you tell her after you finish processing. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see her shocked reaction so you continue before she can spiral too far. “Mostly because I was definitely a bigger dick than you were that day. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have acted that way, not in front of your team.”

You can see a small smile tug at her lips and you grin at her in response.

“We were both pretty big idiots, huh,” she says.

“Proper bellends,” you respond, “You’d think we would’ve done some growing up I guess not.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you and you let it stay for a few moments before you speak again.

“I think if we had been better at communicating, we probably would’ve been back on speaking terms at least four years ago,” you tell her seriously albeit with a joking tone.

“Are we?”

“Are we what?”

“Back on speaking terms,” Alessia clarifies.

“Obviously,” you say, “I don’t watch Magpie try to eat all the inedible things in sight with just anybody.”

The smile that had been threatening to break out on Alessia’s face is out in full force now and you can feel the fluttery sensation in your gut get stronger.

With that seemingly settled, the two of you fall into a pattern of conversation that is both familiar yet different.

In the past, most of your conversations centered around school, football, and making weekend plans. Now, it’s more of a catch up session but the vibes are the same.

It's perfect.

You don’t know how long you sit there but you’re eventually interrupted by the sound of both of your phones going off.

Your’s a call from Sarah telling you to bring her dog back and her’s a reminder from her dad about family dinner.

You stand up ready to try and catch Magpie and go when Alessia stops you.

“Y/N,” she begins, “Do you know where you’ll be stationed once your vacation ends?”

“Headed back to Dartmouth for five months to train the next batch of SWOs,” you tell her, “Then probably gonna be on shore duty for a while so might end up in command of a URNU. Depends.”

“On what?”

“Lots of things but mostly where the open postings are,” you explain.

“Two more questions but one relies on your answer to the other.”

“Shoot.”

“Will you be able to make and receive phone calls while at Dartmouth this time around,” she asks with a slight blush.

“I’ll be in charge so I can do what I want.”

“So would you be opposed to giving me your number so I can call you?”

Unable to resist teasing her a little bit, you let a coy grin spread across your face.

“Alessia Russo, are you trying to get back in my pants,” you ask her.

You watch as the blush on her deepens and she begins to sputter trying to defend herself.

You laugh a little and continue, “I mean it’s fine if you are but I’d prefer to know so that I don’t fuck it up like I did last time.”

“Y/N/N,” she says, still blushing and stuttering.

“My number is the same,” you say, taking pity on her, “so you better call me.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I am but now I’m an asshole that you’ve got to call.”

“It’d take the entire Royal Navy to stop me.”

[scotianostra]

On July 14th 1927 The Scottish National War Memorial was officially opened.

The National War Memorial for Scotland was established by Royal Charter to commemorate the sacrifice of Scots in the First War and subsequantly the Second World War and other conflicts. The Memorial within Edinburgh Castle houses and displays the Rolls of Honour of Scots servicemen and women from all the Armed Services, the Dominions, Merchant Navy, Women's Services, Nursing Services and civilian casualties of all wars from 1914 to date.

The memorial commemorates nearly 150,000 Scottish casualties in the First World War, 1914-18, more than 50,000 in the Second World War, 1939-45, and the campaigns since 1945, including the Malayan Emergency, the Korean War, Northern Ireland, the Falklands War and the Gulf War.

The Memorial is to be found in Crown Square at the very top of the rock on which Edinburgh Castle stands. In 1927 the architect Sir Robert Lorimer and 200 Scottish artists and craftsmen created a serene Hall of Honour and Shrine, where the names of the dead are contained in books that are on permanent display.

The Memorial is open to the public, free of charge so if you contact Edinburgh Castle ticket office it means you get free access to the castle

[thiziri]

Princess Anne, as Patron of Women’s Royal Naval Service Benevolent Trust, attended the Annual Presentation and Reception at the National Museum of the Royal Navy, HM Naval Base in Portsmouth, on 09 May 2024.

[ltwilliammowett]

Mary Anne Talbot - a female Soldier and Sailor

Mary Anne Talbot is one of the women who have the adventure of serving at sea disguised as a male sailor. She was born in London on 2 February 1778, the illegitimate daughter of William Talbot, 1st Earl Talbot. Her mother died at birth, her presumed father when she was four years old. She was brought up by a wet nurse at Worthen in Shropshire until she was five, after which she attended a private boarding school in Chester, run by a Mrs Tapperly, until she was 14. The only relative she knew was an elder sister, an Hon. Miss Dyer, who also died quite young in the birth of her child in 1791. She enlightened Mary Anne about her presumed parentage before her death and left her a handsome fortune of £30,000 sterling. From this fortune Mary Anne could have had an annual income of 1500 pounds, but her sister's chosen guardian, a Mr. Sucker, did not provide for her further education, but gave her to Essex Bowen, a captain in the 82nd Regiment of Foot.

Mary Anne Talbot, by G. Scott, after James Green, published 1804 (x)

The latter took her to London, where he made her his not-so-voluntary mistress in 1792. But already in the autumn of 1792 he was to go to Flanders and simply took her with him. To this end, he passed her off as an errand boy, who took her to St. Domingo as John Taylor. From there she went to Flanders, where she was now listed as Drummer Boy. As such she took part in the capture of Valenciennes on 28 July 1793, where Captain Essex was killed. She now deserted the regiment and made her way through Luxembourg to the Rhine, until in September 1793, out of necessity, she signed on as a cabin boy to the captain of a French lugger called Le Sage. The lugger, according to her account, had been captured by Lord Howe in the Queen Charlotte, and "Taylor" (as she still called herself) was assigned to HMS Brunswick 74 guns under Captain John Harvey (1740-1794) as a powder monkey, in which capacity she took part in the great victory of 1 June 1794, but was severely wounded by a grape shot that shattered her left ankle.

Captain Essex with his footboy John Talbot (x)

She spent four months at Haslar Royal Naval Hospital in Gosport. She then became a midshipman on the Bomb Vessel Vesuvius. However, this was captured off Normandy by two French privateers. As a prisoner, Taylor remained in Dunkirk for 18th months. After her release, she signed on with the American ship Ariel under Captain John Field, sailing to New York in August 1796. In November she returned to London on the Ariel. There she was picked up by a press gang in Wapping. In order not to have to re-enter the Royal Navy, she revealed her true gender, whereupon she was discharged. She then haunted the Navy's pay office for some time, and various donations were collected for her. But she was intemperate and spent her money frivolously. The Duke and Duchess of York and the Duchess of Devonshire, it is said, interceded for her.

Mary Anne Talbot resisting a Press Gang, by John Chapman (x)

After a series of employments including a gig as a jeweller's assistant or a performance in a small theatre in Tottenham Court Road in the Babes in the Wood, and a stay in Newgate from which she was rescued by the Society for the Relief of Persons confined for small Debts, her misfortunes forced her to take refuge as a domestic servant in the house of the publisher Robert S. Kirby in St. Paul's Churchyard, who recorded her adventures in the second volume of his Wonderful Museum, 1804 and continued her story in  The Life and Surprising Adventures of Mary Anne Talbot, 1809. After three years' service, a general deterioration, caused in part by the wounds and privations she had suffered, rendered her unable to work regularly, and she was removed to the house of an acquaintance in Shropshire at the end of 1807. There she remained for some weeks, and died on 4 February 1808, aged 30.

Mary Anne Talbot, by G. Scott, after James Green, published 1804 (x)

Perhaps some of you have noticed that there are certain similarities to Hannah Snell. And in fact, her story is very much in doubt. Because there are great inconsistencies with the times and the ships that she had given in her biography. Because there is no Talbot on the ships listed and there was no Talbot on the Vesuvius at the time it was captured, and the capture itself is also questionable because the ship was not off Normandy at that time but in the West Indies. Whether she just mixed things up here or whether they were chosen to spice up her story is questionable, and it cannot be ruled out that this story was a product of fantasy.

[usafphantom2]

Royal Canadian Air Force celebrates its first Centenary

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 04/01/2024 - 23:07in Military

The Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) has reached the 100-year mark today. The beginning of the celebrations of the first centenary was marked with a ceremony in Edmonton.

As the Royal Canadian Air Force celebrates its 100º anniversary, Edmonton became the host of a moving recognition of its unwavering service to Canada. A historic air passage was carried out by the Tactical Helicopter Squadron "Goose" 408, adorning the skies above the legislative grounds of Alberta and marking the beginning of a six-month commemoration period throughout the country.

Helicopter overfly in Edmonton

The squadron's overflight was led by the veteran pilot and current deputy commander, Major Geoff Martin. With more than a decade of experience at RCAF and a personal connection with the service arising from childhood memories of admiring aircraft with his grandfather, Martin embodies the passion and dedication that have been the hallmark of the service in the last century.

The RCAF turns 100 today! ?

Today, we celebrate a century of excellence, courage, and innovation in the RCAF. As we mark this milestone, we extend our heartfelt gratitude to all the incredible individuals past and present who have played a part in shaping #YourAirForce. #RCAF100pic.twitter.com/9pcNaZcGlB

— Royal Canadian Air Force (@RCAF_ARC) April 1, 2024

The long-standing mission of the RCAF: to provide air defense, search and rescue and to assist in disaster relief, remains unchanged. An example of this dedication to domestic and international aid is Martin's deployment to Iraq, where he contributed significantly to Canadian operations.

Highlighting the festivities, Lieutenant-Gov. Salma Lakhani addressed the assembly and paid tribute to the noble history of the RCAF. The day was also marked by the elevation of the Elifer of the Royal Canadian Air Force within the legislative grounds and, later, the eminent structures of Edmonton, the High Level Bridge and the Jubilee Auditoriums, were illuminated in blue to signify the celebrations of the centenary of the RCAF.

In honour of the 100th anniversary of the @RCAF_ARC, buildings around the world are illuminated with blue lights, including the Canadian National Vimy Memorial in #France. ??

Comment ??? to show your support.

?: https://t.co/IvXsMxr3K4#RCAF100Years#CanadaRememberspic.twitter.com/l9jwsk67up

— Veterans Affairs CA (@VeteransENG_CA) April 1, 2024

Lieutenant-Colonel (Retired) Thomas Sand, who dedicated 35 years to the RCAF, highlighted the incredible experiences he accumulated during his administration, such as tracking submarines and traveling the world, but emphasized that the most beloved aspect of the service is the unity and respect promoted among its members.

As the country continues to honor the 100-year history of the RCAF, it is evident that the spirit of duty to the nation and humanity that once formed the backbone of the Royal Canadian Air Force remains as strong today as ever.

Happy 100th birthday to @RCAF_ARC! Thank you for 100 years of air support! sic itur ad astra ('Such is the pathway to the stars') The #RoyalCanadianAirForce's incredible history:https://t.co/00V93ycniM #RCAF100 #WeTheNavypic.twitter.com/ijSp63bAxh

— Royal Canadian Navy (@RoyalCanNavy) April 1, 2024

Since its creation on April 1, 1924, the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) has played a key role in the history of Canada, contributing to the defense of the nation and participating in international operations. Its emergence faced significant challenges, evolving through technological advances and adapting to the changing nature of air warfare and peacekeeping.

Throughout World War II, Korea and NATO's Cold War missions, the RCAF grew in capacity and size. The integration of women and various multicultural groups in the service over time has also shaped the dynamics of the organization. Today, it operates a fleet of several aircraft, from fighters such as the CF-18 Hornet to transport aircraft such as the C-130 Hercules and maritime patrol aircraft such as the CP-140 Aurora.

Happy Centennial, Royal Canadian Air Force! ???

As we celebrate 100 years of soaring through the skies, the Canadian Armed Forces extends warmest congratulations to the@RCAF_ARC on this historic milestone. #RCAF100pic.twitter.com/7yAwvhR1qy

— Canadian Armed Forces (@CanadianForces) April 1, 2024

The aerospace industry has been a critical aspect of Canada's economy, contributing significantly to research and development, production and employment. Canada's Defense Policy, "Strong, Safe, Involved", describes significant investments aimed at improving the capabilities of the RCAF. This is expected to include the acquisition of 88 advanced F-35 fighter aircraft to replace the current CF-18 fleet, increasing the country's sovereignty and NORAD's obligations. These acquisitions and technological upgrades of current assets offer indications of potential market growth in the defense aerospace sector in Canada and around the world.

Attracting skilled labor remains a challenge in the aerospace industry, with demographic aging and competition from other sectors. In a broader scope, issues such as climate change and the need for sustainable development have pressured defense organizations to consider environmental impacts on their operations and innovations. In addition, cybersecurity and the emergence of space as a contested domain indicate that the RCAF, like its allies, must evolve to face new threats that go beyond the traditional roles of aerial superiority.

100 years for the @RCAF_ARC! It has been a privilege to serve our country with amazing Canadians. I want to honor those who have served and who continue to serve in Canada and around the world over the past century. #RCAF100 pic.twitter.com/g5SUXBX78D

— Joshua Kutryk (@Astro_Kutryk) April 1, 2024

The celebrations of the centenary of the RCAF not only define a historic milestone, but also stimulate reflection on its future path in the midst of a constantly evolving industry, with new challenges and opportunities. It serves as a reminder of the commitment and sacrifice of the men and women who have served and continue to serve under its flag - a commitment that remains an integral part of Canada's security and its global partnerships.

Tags: Military AviationHISTORYRCAF - Royal Canadian Air Force/Canada Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[blackswaneuroparedux]

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No man is a leader until he is ratified in the minds and hearts of his men.

- Field Marshal Sir Bill Slim, 1st Viscount Slim (1891-1970)

I’m not the only one, as an army veteran, to have gotten goosebumps when the assembled soldiers of all the regiments of the British armed forces cheered their new king and commander-in-chief. I never felt more proud to have had the privilege to serve in the best army in the world.

The newly crowned King Charles III inspected thousands of military personnel who lined up in the lush gardens of Buckingham Palace as he returned from Westminster Abbey. King Charles and Queen Camilla stepped out onto the West Terrace steps to look upon the assembled four thousand men and women who hadn’t faced him throughout the coronation procession but had led the way. This was their opportunity to see their sovereign face to face. And it was glorious. The gusto of the ‘hip hip hurrays’ was incredible, more so because it was sincere.

Those who have served in the British armed services - and those relatives and friends who have someone they know who serves or has served - know how deep the bond is between the royal family and the regiments that make up the British army as well as of course the Royal Navy and Royal Air Force. The royals have faithfully served as colonel-in-chiefs of many regiments and corps, and they have taken the responsibility seriously.

When he was the Prince of Wales, Charles was the colonel-in-chief of the Army Air Corps and he took particular interest in the welfare of the men and women of the regiments. He was very personable and appreciative of the service of every soldier and officer did, and in return he earned the loyalty and respect of every serving soldier I knew.

While King Charles III may be the head of the whole of the UK's Armed Forces, there is one company with which the sovereign has a special connection. The King's Company Grenadier Guards have a role at the centre of every coronation, but their relationship with His Majesty is far more personal than that - he is also their Company Commander.

One of the oldest bodies of troops in the Army, the King's Company was founded in 1656, even pre-dating the Restoration of the Monarchy in 1660. Following King Charles II's defeat at the Battle of Worcester in 1651, he escaped to Holland with the help of loyalists, who hid him and helped him throughout his exile and with his plan to return to the throne. From these loyalists, the King created his most trusted personal troops, that would go on to become the Life Guards and the Grenadier Guards. King Charles II ordered that the command of the first company of the first regiment of Foot Guards would be reserved for him, and they would be known as The King's Own Company.

In 1656, the exiled King Charles II issued the first Colour bearing his cypher to The King's Own Company. Every monarch since has presented their company with their own Royal Standard. King Charles III presented a new Colour bearing his cypher interlaced and reversed with his crown to The King's Company.

In keeping with tradition, this new Royal Standard is of heavily gold embroidered and tasselled silk and it is much larger than the standard regimental Colours seen elsewhere on parade in the modern Army - the fabric alone is more than 6ft square.

The King's Company Colour, Royal Standard of the Regiment, has personal significance to both King Charles and Queen Camilla, as Her Majesty is the new Royal Colonel Grenadier Guards. A smaller version of the Royal Standard of the regiment is also commissioned and is proudly flown above the Captain's office desk in barracks or on the wall of the operations room if deployed abroad.  The smaller version is simply known as the Company Camp Colour and will be laid upon the coffin after the monarch's death and buried, as happened with the late Queen Elizabeth.

A lesser-known fact is that The King's Company does not have a sitting company commander, because the reigning monarch vested the executive authority for the daily administration of the company to a trusted and favoured subject, the appointment being designated the Captain Lieutenant – the title means quite literally to hold or 'tenant' the Captaincy, in lieu of the King. Shortened nowadays to simply 'The Captain' (who holds the rank of Major), this appointment has persisted for 367 years with 136 Captains over time leading the company on a Sovereign's behalf.

Due to this arrangement and to prevent any confusion, The King's Company second in command (who holds the rank of captain) is referred to as 'The Second Captain.' Within the wider regiment, all members of the company are collectively known as and nicknamed The Monarch's Mob.

The new sovereign assumed command of The Sovereign's Company on accession, meaning that on the death of Queen Elizabeth II in September 2022, the company's name changed from The Queen's Company back to The King's Company. The connection of the sovereign to the company is a close one beyond the public ceremonial, as the Captain will update the sovereign regularly on the company’s activities and operational commitments. Every Christmas, the King will receive The Captain's Statement, a brief annual report, along with a leather-bound photo album containing photographs of The Company's year. The soldiers who serve under the Captain are among the fittest and most able Guardsmen in the regiment and must demonstrate the highest values and standards and aspire to excellence.

It was fitting that it was the King’s Company that led the three cheers to the newly coronated King.

Vivat Regina Camilla! Vivat Rex Carolus! Vivat! Vivat! Vivat!

[queennsailor]

Lots of royal fans out there are fanatic on the dresses and tiaras. But, I have consider myself an expert in Royal uniform (well I’m foreign so I consider this as an achievement lol). So let’s start with the senior service aka the Royal Navy.

The Royal Navy rank is pretty easy to guess based on the gold rings in the cuff. This photo must be taken in between 1985-1986 because as you can see Edward is wearing his Royal Marines uniform.

Prince Philip: Admiral of The Fleet. There are 4 + 1 wider rings in the cuffs.

Prince Edward: Royal Marines Officer Cadet (Royal Marines are part of the RN). Unpopular opinion but well I think he will able to have a military career if he just went with the navy like his brothers, or the army, as the officer course in the RM are literally the hardest in the world. But well, we know he enjoyed what his chosen career later.

Queen Elizabeth: A coat that match the Navy blue

Princess Anne: Chief Commandant of the Women’s Royal Naval Service (Women’s in the navy used to have their own branches until 1983 when they served alongside men)

Prince Andrew: Lieutenant. He had 2 rings on his cuffs.

Prince Charles (He is King Charles now I know): Commander. Three rings on his cuffs.

The gold ropes thingy that Philip, Andrew, and Charles wore is an aiguillette means that they’re an aide-de-camp to The Queen. The three of them also has a wing above the rings on their cuffs. Philip was trained with the RAF but then he completed the conversion course to the RN so he received the RN wings in 1956. Charles also trained with the RAF and I guess went through the same process, then he went on active service in the Fleet Air Arm. Meanwhile Andrew started his Royal Navy career from straight from school and he learned to fly directly with the navy, at that time he’s still on active service with the FAA.

[newyorkthegoldenage]

These five members of the Woman’s Royal Navy Service (WRENS) crossed the Atlantic as crew members on troop transports. Their job was to code and decode radio messages, but they also stood watch as would any other seaman. One of these young women crossed the ocean seven times beginning in March of 1942. All the women were volunteers and received extra pay for sea duty. When they arrived at port in New York on January 7, 1943, they dashed for stockings, sweets, fruits, and cosmetics, in that order.

Photo: Associated Press via WHNT

[aimeedaisies]

Court Circular | 9th May 2024

St James’s Palace

The Princess Royal, Patron, the Royal Navy and Royal Marines Charity, this morning visited the Headquarters at Building 35/37, HMS Excellent, Whale Island, Portsmouth, and was received by Colonel Charles Ackroyd (Deputy Lieutenant of Hampshire).

Her Royal Highness, Patron, Women’s Royal Naval Service Benevolent Trust, this afternoon attended the Annual Presentation and Reception at the National Museum of the Royal Navy, HM Naval Base, Portsmouth, and was received by Mr Hugo Cubitt (Deputy Lieutenant of Hampshire).

The Princess Royal, Patron, the Association of Wrens, afterwards opened the new Headquarters Building at Lanyard House, Scott Road, HM Naval Base.

Her Royal Highness, Patron, National Museum of the Royal Navy, accompanied by Vice-Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, subsequently visited the HMS Victory Conservation Project at HM Naval Base and was received by His Majesty’s Lord-Lieutenant of Hampshire (Mr Nigel Atkinson).

The Princess Royal, Patron, National Museum of the Royal Navy, accompanied by Admiral Laurence, this evening attended the HMS Victory Conservation Project Dinner onboard HMS Victory at HM Naval Base.

[herprivateswe]

Troops of the Royal Navy and of the British Army relaxing and having tea with women, who are possibly members of the Women's Royal Naval Service.