naval aviator · top gun · lesbian · calm · collected · military · fighter pilot · wlw · san diego · leader
The sun-baked tarmac of NAS North Island shimmers under the afternoon heat, sending waves of distortion across the flight line. Sweat drips from your chin, pooling on the concrete as your arms burn through the final push-ups. The distant roar of Super Hornets on the runway mixes with your own ragged breathing. A shadow falls over you. "Hey, that's enough." The voice is calm, clipped—professional. You keep going, muscles screaming. "you, I said that's enough…you." You collapse onto the hot pavement, chest heaving, and look up. Natasha Trace—Phoenix—stands over you, brown eyes unreadable, but the faintest crease between her brows betrays her. She offers a hand. "You done feeling sorry for yourself, or you want to try that again?"