#flyboy is in trouble again

[idontknowreallywhy]

Following in his footsteps

a.k.a. How to Infuriate Your Engineer

Finished this idea off on the commute so apologies for typos, clumsy wording and for inconsistencies in the sounds Brains stutters on…

It’s a bit of a mystery as to why Scott, the first born, was named after the 4th of the Mercury Seven whose flight and piloting decisions were somewhat controversial and left him in conflict with flight control (sound familiar?). Anyway I find myself intrigued by that particular 1960’s flyboy, particularly as to one thing he did 1/3 of the way through his trip with his fuel running low…

✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

“S-SCOTT C-C-CARPENTER TRACY!!!”

John later confirmed that this was indeed the first time in Tracy history that Brains ever been apoplectic enough to middle name any of them. His ire was usually quiet and dry, with occasional sarcasm. Every so often some non-vital but comfort-providing item might be removed from a Thunderbird for “essential maintenance”… the cushioning of One’s pilot seat, the power supply to Two’s coffee machine…

But generally, after more than a decade living with the Tracys, their long-suffering engineer had cultivated the talent of providing emotionally restrained feedback. Albeit there was good reason MAX was unable to mimic the phrases that were muttered over mangled landing gear, flooded engines, overstrained thrusters and the like.

This Wednesday morning, however, something had clearly pushed him over the edge.

“What did you doooo?” Alan hissed in alarm and was immediately shushed by a heavily frowning Virgil, whose fingers appeared unable to release the unfortunately tense chord he’d just leaned into. John’s hologram popped up looking serious. Even Gordon looked incredibly uncomfortable.

From the guilt-ridden look on Scott’s face, he could think of least three reasons his neck might be on the block this morning.

A tightly wound ball of fury approached the seating area and the speed with which International Rescue’s commander leapt from the couch betrayed his initial instinct to bolt from the room and never stop running. However, decades of experience of facing the music from many and varied sources meant his feet remained firmly rooted to the floor, while the rest of his body sought the security of parade rest.

Brains stood in front of him vibrating with rage. The ends of MAX’s arms were positioned at an approximation of where the robot’s hips might be. The room held its breath. Virgil’s foot remained wedged against the sustain pedal. The melodramatic chord continued reverberating around the lounge.

The engineer suddenly raised a hand and everyone flinched. Had their friend finally resorted to violence?

Scott closed his eyes and awaited whatever engineering justice was deemed merited for… whatever it was he had done.

But the shorter man’s movement as he reached up to Scott’s face was slow, deliberate and with a slight frown of concentration he stuck a 75mm square of blue duct tape precisely in the middle of Scott’s forehead.

Virgil jaw dropped and his foot finally slipped off the pedal. The dampers clunked back into place, allowing an ominous silence to reign for a few moments.

The colour coded rolls of multi-purpose tape included within each baldric was one of Brains’ affectionate little thematic touches but also acted as a crude fingerprint… blue tape could only ever have been used by one person.

The Commander’s eyebrows twitched almost audibly as he tried to puzzle out the strange sensation but his eyes remained screwed shut.

When Brains spoke it was barely more than a whisper and the brothers in the room found themselves leaning in. The brother in space appeared to have located a bucket of popcorn.

“D-do you h-happen, to know how l-long I have spent p-perfecting One’s fuel reserve s-system, S-Scott?”

Scott swallowed, hard, and opened his eyes again.

“Quite a long time?”

“Yes.”

“Ahh, did I ever thank you? I should have, I’m very sorry - thank you for that and for all your work, Brains. It really is appreciated.”

“Is it?”

“Of course!”

“Hmmm.”

Scott opened his mouth again but, accepting that his attempt to divert the conversation had failed, clearly thought better of digging any deeper until the nature of the situation became more clearly defined.

Brains’ hand lifted for a second time, another square of blue tape delicately held between thumb and forefinger. This was placed with some care on the very tip of Scott’s nose.

Alan snorted. Gordon punched him in the arm and was elbowed back. Virgil glared them into silence then nearly lost control himself at the sight of his elder brother going cross eyed in an attempt to establish what on earth he was being decorated with.

Brains spun on his heel to face the rest and they all leaned back hurriedly, feigning casual interest. Nobody wanted to appear to be aware of, to be accidentally associated with whatever crime it was Scott had committed.

“Th-thunderbird One uses t-two fuels but h-has th-th-three fuel tanks. As you all know, th-the balance of fuel t-to achieve m-maximum speed is p-precisely c-calculated and th-the system that g-governs it is h-highly sophisticated.”

Everyone nodded except Scott who was trying and failing to pretend he was unbothered by the additions to his face. His nose twitched compulsively.

“D-due to certain t-tendencies of her p-rimary p-p-pilot, One h-has a reserve t-tank. Th-that blend of fuel w-will not achieve the h-highest speeds b-but will ensure she is able t-to return h-home if a SENSIBLE…” the word was ground out as if it was painful “…speed is m-maintained.”

Brains paused. Every eye in the room shifted to Scott. Max bleeped, judgementally. Brains continued, his voice deadly calm and deeply terrifying for it.

“T-to ensure One’s p-pilot d-does not m-miss the fuel status w-warnings amongst th-the p-p-plethora of information on the h-holographic display I installed th-three LED bulbs t-to m-make it QU-QUITE CLEAR w-when l-levels w-were running low and w-when speed n-needed t-to be m-m-m-moderated in order t-to avoid d-damage t-to her supply p-p-p-p-pipeline a-a-a-and e-en-en-engines!”

Brains’ veneer of calm was cracking and Scott, who had clearly solved the mystery, appeared to be chewing through the inside of his face. Brains spun back to face the object of his wrath. MAX’s mechanical eyes narrowed.

“W-warning l-lights are only effective w-when th-they are v-visible!”

Scott gulped and fell back on the only defence he had left - he gave his old friend a dimpled half-grin and a doomed attempt at mitigation:

“They were a little… distracting?”

“D-distracting.”

The full stop was potent and echoed around them. Brains appeared on the edge of an eruption the like of which Tracy Island had never seen, even when the volcano was active. But he mastered himself and produced a final square of tape which he held in front of Scott’s face for a moment before slapping it down on to the top of his head, rubbing it slightly to ensnare as much perfectly styled hair as possible before storming from the room.

MAX remained just long enough to shake a medium-weight hydro-spanner with extreme prejudice before flouncing impressively and trundling after his master.

Alan and Gordon clung to each other, faces contorted with silent mirth. Virgil caught John’s eye then cleared his throat and appeared about to speak before being forestalled by his Commander’s raised palm.

Lacking a little of his usual gravitas due to the tape fluttering gently in the huffed breath from his nose, Scott still poured every ounce of authority he had left into an order of three short syllables:

“Not. A. Word.”

[wintermav]

Its 2004...Mav and the flyboys getting drunk asf at his bachelor party. Slider gets called to bail their asses out, who is at Ice's stag right across town. He goes, takes a picture of them looking shitfaced and is sworn to secrecy to never tell Ice about the actual reason they got arrested. Slider agrees.

Fast forward to 2022—post tgm mission. Mav wakes up in the hospital, dazed but alive! Ice is sitting at his bedside: annoyed, relieved, yelling at him…kissing him. Tells Mav he’s grounded and rants about how he can’t believe Pete is almost 60 and still is “trouble walking.”

Mav, groggy and trying to be cute, mumbles, “I’m not trouble.”

Ice just pulls out the photo. "You want to try that again, Mitchell?"

Slider is a liar who lies.

[rdng1230]

In the movies, everything grows quiet when you see the love of your life across the room. Not this time.

Seeing Tommy tilting his head at another man just makes everything louder, drowning out hope, conversation, reason.

And whatever residual sense he had from the first glance is utterly demolished when the stranger leans forward and pats, no caresses Tommy's face.

Suddenly there's another shot glass in his hand and Ravi's clinking it with his own. "Umm, Buck you know you're staring right?" The sound barely reaches him over the din.

"Right?" Ravi calls again, and this time it's accompanied by enough of a shoulder nudge to snap him back into the bar. "Shit." He stares down at his own feet and clears the walkway he's probably been blocking for at least a minute.

Back in their booth, Buck leans onto the table to keep himself upright. Ravi is better company than he would've thought, keeping him pleasantly distracted and filling him in on all the war stories from his transfer over at the 122. Their gangling probies, crafty paramedics, and the gruff, but solid Captain keeping them (mostly) out of trouble.

It's a funny thing, to hear about other houses and see how they tick. Firefighting is Buck's calling, but his life could've gone so differently had he been assigned elsewhere.

"Speak of the devil!" Ravi calls, hauled out of his chair by none other than Tommy's... ok admittedly handsome stranger. "Panikkar, you don't call you don't write??" They exchange a handshake and a pat on the back and Ravi sits back down, scooting his chair in so the man can stand closer without blocking everything.

"Buck, this is Captain Deluca of the 122. Cap, this is Evan Buckley of the 118." Ravi waves his arms in between them and Buck has to fight biting off his own tongue when the Captain extends his hand. "Sal is fine, heard a lot about you golden boy."

"Wish I could say the same." He fires back, a little more forceful than he means to. "Well that answers that question." Sal says under his breath, taking the seat next to Ravi without being invited. Maybe that's this guy's deal, taking other people's.... everything. Without asking.

"Do I need to guard my ankles?" Sal laughs and the familiarity turns Buck's stomach. Is that what he is to Tommy now? A joke to tell his new flings? Only the way Sal caught Tommy's cheek earlier, he doubts that their relationship stops there.

"Easy, easy Buckley, we've got T minus 3 minutes before my boy over there realizes that his boy is over here. So let me be very blunt."

"All due respect Captain, I don't think you have another setting." Ravi giggles into his shot glass before tossing it back. Sal rolls his eyes at his former employee before continuing.

"He fucked up. He knows it. I know it. You know it. And this is the furthest thing from fair and you're well within your rights to tell me to fuck off, but I swear I can't handle his sad little kicked puppy face anymore especially when he's the one who did the kicking."

Buck's jaw falls open, leaning in closer to Sal like he's afraid he's misheard. "So here's what's gonna happen hotshot. I'm gonna grab the next round, and then flyboy is gonna handle the one after that. I suggest it be you he bumps into and not some rando. Up to you though."

He stands up and claps their mutual lightweight friend on the shoulder. "Good seeing you Ravi." Sal turns his eyes towards Buck and smiles, and he's happy to see the malice in Sal's smile isn't there at all, it's amusement, and maybe just a dash of commiseration. "Don't let him go kid." The graying captain joins the fray on drunkards, tossing a "Trust me." over his shoulder.

"You gonna take his advice?" Ravi finally asks once he realizes Buck has completely stopped paying attention to the story he had been in the middle of when Sal arrived. Buck feels glued to the vinyl seat, his head on a swivel waiting for Tommy to be in sight. "He-he dumped me." Buck finally gets out.

Ravi's shoulders slump like he's disappointed with the answer. "But you miss him?" He prods again, staring at him with kind and inquisitive eyes.

Words are entirely insufficient for the answer, so instead Buck just nods. Ravi points his finger onto the table, drawing his case to a close. "Well Tommy clearly misses you. Cap can be an asshole, but the upside is the man doesn't lie. Tact and him are like oil and water."

Ravi sucks his teeth and takes another shot. "Hey man it's your choice."

Buck tosses back a shot himself for luck. "I think I need another drink." He gets up awkwardly, positioning himself to be just a little too bump-into-able. It's not long until a familiar form collides with his shoulder.

"Tommy." He breathes out, a thousand pounds instantly lifted off his shoulder.

"Evan." His ex breathes out without thinking, not daring to pull away from the hand that's taken his.

[fireside-fanfics]

Hold Me Closer

There were two constants in Cameron Fitzgerald’s life:

Trouble had a magnetic pull.

Trouble almost always had a name—Joaquin Torres.

They had met in Mrs. Brenner’s kindergarten class, both five years old, both scrappy and too curious for their own good. Cameron was the one who dared to climb the jungle gym when the teacher said not to. Joaquin was the one who boosted her up—and then tried to convince her to jump off the top.

Since then, they’d been inseparable. Through every scraped knee, every bad haircut, every heartbreak and every late-night call for help, they had been each other's person. Cameron, the responsible one, the planner, the fixer. Joaquin, the reckless dreamer, the one who somehow made every disaster seem like an adventure. They fit together like gears, one spinning wild, the other keeping time.

Somewhere along the way, without either of them meaning to, home had stopped being a place. It had become a person. It had become him. Home was always each other. Now, sitting on the floor of their tiny living room, Cameron could see just how heavy that sun had become.

Joaquin looked wrecked. His flight jacket was tossed carelessly over the arm of the chair, his boots still on, dirt and dried blood on his hands like a badge he hadn’t cared enough to wipe away. His usual boyish grin, the one he used to charm her out of being mad at him, was nowhere in sight.

He didn’t even glance up when she walked in. Just stared blankly at the wall, the weight of a terrible week pressing down so hard that even breathing looked like it might break him. Cameron dropped her bag by the door and padded over in socked feet. Without asking, she slid down beside him, knees pulled to her chest.

They sat in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It never had been. Some people had to work for years to get that kind of quiet, that kind of knowing. With Joaquin, it had been there since they were kids trading fruit snacks at lunch. Finally, she nudged his shoulder gently.

"Hey, Flyboy," she said softly. "You gonna let me in?"

He huffed a breath that sounded more like a shudder before quietly answering, "You don’t want to see what’s in my head right now, Cameron."

"Try me," she pushed gently, giving him a sideways look.

Another long pause. Then, so low she almost missed it, he said, "I keep thinking if I was just faster, smarter, stronger ... maybe they’d still be here."

Cameron’s heart broke quietly inside her chest. Joaquin had always carried things too close to the skin, laughing, joking, deflecting. It was easy to forget sometimes that underneath all that sunshine was a heart that bruised deep and dark. She reached for his hand without thinking and wove her fingers through his, grounding him.

"You did everything you could," she said, voice steady even though her throat was tight. "You always do."

His grip tightened around hers. His jaw clenched so hard she could see the muscle jump.

"Joaquin..." Cameron shifted, facing him fully. "Look at me, baby."

Reluctantly, he did; his brown eyes were raw, like open wounds.

"I want you to know something, J... It's okay to cry. It's okay to fall apart."

Her voice gentle but fierce. His breath hitched. Once. Then again.

Cameron squeezed his hand and continued, "Not everything has to be on your shoulders. You don’t have to carry it alone. Not with me."

For one suspended second, she thought maybe he’d pull away, brush it off, or make a joke about her getting soft on him. But then Joaquin’s whole body shuddered, and he ducked his head against her shoulder, and the dam broke. He didn’t sob loudly; he wasn’t built that way.

Nevertheless, she felt it—the way his chest heaved with silent cries, the way he clung to her like a man trying not to drown. Cameron wrapped both arms around him, holding him so tight that she was afraid he’d float away.

"You’re safe," she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair. "I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him broken. Not really. There had been the night he called her from his first deployment, his voice shaking as he sat alone in a barracks on the other side of the world. The night she held him after his father died, when he’d punched a hole in her drywall and then cried in her arms like a boy lost.

And now this. Another scar to add to their collection. Another night where the only thing they had was each other. After a long time, Joaquin’s breathing evened out. He pulled back, rubbing at his face with the heel of his hand, embarrassed.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Cameron arched an eyebrow and muttered, "You’re sorry for being human? Quit being a dumbass."

A snort of laughter escaped him, cracked and broken but real.

"Besides, I already told you," she grinned, bumping his shoulder, "you cry pretty."

"You’re a menace ... but you’re my menace," he said, but there was a flicker of the old Joaquin in his voice now. The one who had dragged her into every water balloon fight, every late-night taco run, every too-stupid-to-survive prank war.

Cameron hesitated for half a heartbeat. Then, because if not now, then when? Staring at him now, seeing the complete adoration in his eyes she contemplated what to say but then—

"I love you, J."

The confession came out before she even realized what she was saying. The words weren’t new between them. They’d been saying I love you for years—after bad days, after late-night phone calls, before deployments, in texts that didn’t need overthinking. It had always been part of them. Easy. Natural.

But this? This was the first time she said it as his girlfriend. The first time since the lines between them had shifted from friendship into something even deeper, even scarier, even more permanent.

For a moment, she worried—nervous if the three words would land differently. If somehow, after all the years of saying it, this time would make everything more complicated. But then Joaquin’s fingers threaded through hers tighter, grounding her like he always did, and he gave her a look so full of warmth it almost knocked the breath out of her.

"I love you too, Cameron," he whispered, voice rough around the edges. "I always have—that’s never gonna change."

Joaquin cupped her face in his hands, as gentle as if she were something precious, and kissed her. Slow. Sure. Like a man memorizing the shape of something he already knew by heart.

When they pulled apart, Joaquin pressed his forehead to hers. His eyes were still stained with tears, but a faint smile tugged at his lips.

"God, I love you so much it hurts sometimes," he confessed.

"You’re so dramatic," Cameron laughed, half-sob, half-joy.

"Only for you, sweet girl," he whispered.

They sat there until the stars came out, tangled together on the living room floor, the weight of grief still heavy—but no longer something they had to carry alone.

[kryptonitejelly]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cu5tYAcPkq2/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

All I can think is Flyboy!Jake 😭😭

😭😭😭 this is so cute :’) i’m so happy you thought of flyboy!jake because yessss. something more from Jake’s POV

-

Jake’s eyes are darting across the small crowd the moment he slips out from the hangar. The main welcoming party was on the other side of the building where the ship was docked, with only a portion of the crowd, all of whom were waiting for an aviator of sort, here. He has never had trouble picking you out from the crowd and manages zeros in on you immediately.

It takes you a moment longer to spot Jake, but within seconds of him locking onto you, your gaze is fitting in with his. It makes the corners of his lips tick upwards, a smile unfurling itself on his face, Jake can feel his heart hammering in his chest, legs beginning their stride towards you. It is the same for Jake every, single, time, he sees you - whether it is after 6 months away, 3 months away, 2 weeks, or even a day, the surge of warmth in his chest is always the same.

Jake sees your face mirror his, your lips growing into a smile.

I’ve missed you - he mouths from afar, and from the way your gaze softens, Jake knows you’ve gotten the message. He is content to hold your gaze, the world feeling like it has only the two of you in it, but his trance is dashed by a shriek - one of his other loves.

Jake’s gaze drops down to the little blonde head sprinting towards him with determined green eyes just like his own, the excited shrieks of “daddy” falling from her lips in a continuous babble. He bends down as she nears him, and feels her little body slam into him a moment later, an excited giggle rumbling through her body as she knots her arms around his neck.

“My Daddy,” she all but shouts, beaming excitedly, body squirming against his chest. Jake looks over her head to see you making your way towards them, letting your daughter enjoy her moment with her father.

“Hi bug,” he kisses her on the cheek before she pats his face, words falling out of her mouth faster than her brain can process them, not all of it makes sense, but Jake is content to listen.

“You’re my hero Daddy,” she yells just as you approach Jake.

“Is he your hero?” Jake hears you ask and he extends his other hand towards you, he waits for you to slot yourself against his free side and the moment you do, Jake feels right again. He lets his body sag against yours just that little bit - tension easing away.

“My Daddy is my hero,” your daughter nods firmly before squirming to be let down. Jake obliges because as much as he loves her, he wants his hands on you in the moment - Jake would never play favourites among his children, would never claim to love them less than he did you, but to him - you came first, it was his one firm and steadfast rule. The moment her feet land on the ground, Jake has his arms around you, pulling you towards him; he feels your arms slot around his waist.

“You’re my hero too you know,” he hears you mumble into shoulder of his flight suit.

“Not going to call me Daddy?” He muses as the top halves of your bodies pull away from each other. Jake finds you looking into his piercing greens, he knows you can see the wave of emotions hiding behind the dose of mischief playing on his lips.

“Thought we would save that for later,” he feels you mutter against his lips. It makes him groan slightly as he lets your love engulf him, his daughter running in circles around the both of you in a train of giggles.

[poe-dameron-fandom]

Chapter 4

Warnings: Mentions of death, injury, suggestive content, angst and a lot of fluff!

Word Count: 2.1k

Past Day:

You feel the cold air hit you as soon as you walk out onto the landing bay, you feel a sudden urge of anxiety raiding through you. “Where are we going?” you question to the Commander as he leads you to his X-Wing. Poe doesn’t provide a response and continues to hold your hand and guide you towards his ship. “Poe isn’t the ship off limits unless you are going on a mission? You are going to get into trouble” you inquiry. At this point Poe drops your hand and turns to face you, he caresses the side your cheek “you are worth it Princess” he winks causing you to shake your head in response.

“I’m not a Princess” you snap. He raises your hand and kisses the back of it “in my eyes you will also be a Princess” he smirks. You can feel the butterflies radiating through you. “smooth Dameron” you giggle. Poe directs you to the steps of his X-Wing, you begin to hesitate. “Aren’t x-wings 1 pilot? How the hell are we flying? I have only flown the Millennium Falcon with my dad, I have never flown a ship by myself?” you begin to panic. Poe puts a hand on your hip and rubs circles into it, this suddenly puts you at ease. “Relax Princess.. I would never put you in danger. I am going to climb up and then you come and sit on my lap and I will help you guide the ship, I want to show you how to fly.” You watch as his face drops as you try to wipe the panic look over your face “we don’t have to do this but you said ‘if I go on a date with you, you best make it memorable' so here we are” he shoots you a smile which makes you go giddy.

“Okay” you replied “so how are we doing this” you gesture towards the ladder leading up into the ship.

“Okay so I will climb up and sit down once I am in I will shout down and then you climb up and sit on my lap. I will control it for now and as soon as you feel confident I will let you lead, I will be here to help”. You slowly nod understanding the instructions. “Wow so first date and you already got me sitting on your lap Dameron, what kind of girl do you think I am?” Poe stops half way up the ladder and looks down at you and laughs.

“Come up!” Poe shouts down now that he is settled in the cockpit. You slowly climb up the ladder and slowly lower yourself on top of Poe and settle between his legs. “Is this okay?” you check. Poe nods slowly and starts to blush, you move your hips again getting comfortable which causes a low groan to escape from him. You turn sniggering at him and raise your eyebrows as you feel the evident bulge between you both “really? This was your idea” you laugh. Poe rolls his eyes “its not my fault I have the most beautiful women in the galaxy sitting on my lap what do you expect?” he giggles, this time its your turn to blush.

Poe turns his attention to the controls in front of you, his arms are wrapped around your waist as he begins to take off. You can feel the ship slowly lift you up in the air, Poe slowly starts moving directing the ship through the air. You are overwhelmed with the view, your eyes are darting everywhere as Poe travels through the sky, With that Poe quickly pulls you away and swoops down and as he turns the X-Wing the wings splash through the water beneath you, you scream with happiness and shut your eyes as you both soar through the sky. “Don’t you dare close your eyes!” Poe shouts as he uses one of his hands to remove your hand from your eyes “this is the best part” he announces as he flips the x-wing upside down.

Once Poe gets you at a steady level you can feel yourself relax in his arms “you wanna take over?” you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m not sure if I trust myself” you giggle. “Come on Princess when did you last let your heart decide?”

“Okay..Okay give me the controls Flyboy” with that you take over the controls from Poe, you slowly get a grip over Poe’s hands as he slowly lets go. “Whooooo!!!” you both scream as you begin to fly through the sky “you are a natural!” Poe shouts.

“Its getting late I best get you back before your mother tells me off. Did you want to land or did you want me to land?”

“I think you can land, I really don’t want to crash your x-wing the first time flying it” which you both giggle and Poe takes over the controls from you. Once landed you slowly get off his lap and climb down the ladder and wait for him. You both look into eachothers eyes, “thank you Poe with everything going on that is the most fun I have had in a while” Poe gives you a grin and wraps his arms around you and embraces you into a hug, his strong arms wrapped around you feels like home, you don’t want to let go. As you pull away you both gaze into eachothers eyes, he tucks a stand of hair behind your ear that fell our of your ponytail and places a small peck to your forehead. “Let me know when you want your next flying lesson Princess!” Poe shouts as he starts to walk away towards the direction of his quarters.

“Who said you will be lucky enough to give me another lesson flyboy” you wink as he shoots you a glare. You both stand on the other side of the landing bay just gazing at eachother, before you know it Poe rushes across the landing bay wraps both hands on either side of your cheek and engage in a deep passionate kiss. You wrap your hands around his neck to bring him in closer, just for a moment you forget where you are and forget about the worry of being caught, in that moment all that matters is the both of you. You begin running your hand through his hair which you take advantage of the open mouth moan that he makes to slip your tongue into his mouth. As you both pull away for air, your eyes are glazed with lust. “You make me crazy Y/N Solo” Poe whispers into your lips, he places another longing kiss to your lips and pulls away “I will see you tomorrow gorgeous” he walks away, at that instant you knew you loved him.

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

Present

You wake up to the sound of the beeping to the side of you, you slowly open your eyes and you instantly regret it due to the bright lights of the med bay. You turn and see the hologram of your sats to your right showing that you have a stable heartbeat. Suddenly the pain overwhelms you, as your groan in agony you see Poe to your left start to stir from his sleeping state. “Have you been asleep there the whole time?”  you asked trying to hide your discomfort. Poe is quick to sit up in the chair next to you and grab your left hand and runs his fingers over the top of it.

“Of course you really think I would leave your side in this state? Y/N I told you not to go and now look you almost bloody died, I-I thought I lost you Y/N you need to stop thinking you can fight him!” Poe begins raising his voice which has causes your eyes start to water.

“Poe we are both fighting a war, we both put ourselves in danger everyday. Maker how many times have you been in here after almost risking your life. So why is it okay for you to fight but n-no I-I have to sit here and do nothing- Uggghhh” You scream in discomfort as Poe stern demeanour has now turned soft as he wraps himself into you and places a soft kiss to your head.

“You told me you would be careful then I find out you are our there trying to fight Kylo Ren with a bloody lightsaber. I get you are a Jedi and there are certain things I will never understand but that wasn’t the fight that needed to be made”

“Poe h-he killed my d-dad I-I watch him die” you start to sob “B-Ben he had to pay for that” you now cannot control the tears that are falling down your face Poe has wrapped your injured body into his whilst you cry into his chest.

“I know that baby and Ben will pay I will promise you we will fight to bring that First Order down but I cannot lose you in the process. Can you promise to just be safe for me please” Poe pleads with you.

“Will you promise to be safe Poe, will you promise not to be reckless and not put your life in danger” Poe slowly shakes his head “you know I cannot promise you that”.

You gave him a small smile “well you know then I cannot promise you that either”. Poe shakes his head knowing you are as stubborn as him. “Where’s Finn and Rey are they okay?” you now start to panic as the memories of the fight come back.

“Finn hasn’t woke up yet they said he is okay though, in all honesty you were in a worst state then him if you have woken up then he will be fine.”

“Okay so wheres Rey? I cannot sense her?”  

“We found the Map to Skywalker. R2 woke up-“

“R2 woke up?” you butted in

“Yes if you would let me finish” Poe jokes “He had the missing part of the map so when put together with the part that BB-8 had it made the map to your uncle. Rey has gone to find him”.

“I should of gone with her to find Uncle Luke, she is strong with the force but she cannot go on her own. I need to find her, I need to go with her” you start taking off the wires attached to you and begin trying to get out of bed.

Poe grabs you with force and slowly lowers you back down to the bed “you are not going anywhere Princess. I almost lost you, I need to spend some time with my beautiful  fiancé before we both get sent out on another stupid mission where we both could possible die”.

“Wow so romantic Poe” you sarcastically laugh as you roll your eyes. Then you quickly realise you haven’t got your ring on. You go to grab your necklace as you always wear it on that when out on a mission but that’s not there either. “Oh my Maker, Poe where’s my ring, no no no”. you start to panic but Poe doesn’t look worried.

“Calm down baby. Its here” he takes his necklace of his neck where he has his mums ring and undoes it to release your ring into his hand. “Your necklace was damaged, as I carried you off the Millennium Falcon it fell onto the ground I didn’t want to put it on your finger and you know risk the nurses losing it whilst they did their tests so I thought that would be the safest place”. You whisper a quiet thank you as Poe slowly pulls your hand up and carefully places the ring back onto your ring finger “back in its rightful place” Poe smiles and places a soft kiss to your cut lips.

“I love you so much Princess, honesty I have never loved anyone the way I love you” you lean in places another kiss to his lips but this time it is desperate and full of passion. You wince due to the pain in your side and Poe is quickly to pull away and gives you a sympathetic look. “I love you Poe Dameron, I have loved you since that moment you kissed me, from that moment I knew you were mine”.

“Oh believe me Y/N, I knew you were mine from the second I saw you. My first day at the resistance you were sitting there bossing people around like you owned the place, the confidence radiated off you and your beauty I knew from that instant I was going to marry you and now look your mine forever now. Just promise me Y/N that you will always come back to me, because I cannot do forever without you.”

“That I can promise Poe, I promise to always come back to you”. 

[falcon-nextgen]

How’s it going Flyboy?

@a-viper-not-a-widow

Well, well, if it isn’t another highly-trained, possibly-deadly assassin giving me a nickname. Should I be flattered or concerned?

Things are good -- flying, fighting, trying not to get shot out of the sky again. You know, the usual. What about you? Keeping out of trouble, or should I be watching my six?

[vivalas-vega]

hello I’m back again with more trip content - I went to the midway today!!!

an f/a-18 hornet - the plane all our favorite flyboys and flygirls operate (or at least very similar, it didn’t say super hornet so I don’t think it’s exactly the same but it’s similar)

the f-14 tomcat - or, as bradley calls it, a bag of ass, that our favorite og flyboys operated

it was so so cool to see these in person, standing next to them was so surreal because they are so much bigger than I anticipated them being. they were just all out in the open with no signs or ropes or anything so I think I could have touched them but I was too scared to get in trouble even though I wanted to lmao

and this morning there was a pearl harbor remembrance ceremony with a flyover! I’m not sure what planes these are but they were very cool, and it’s hard to see but the yellow one is a navy one

anyway, I love san diego - I have yet to meet any hot pilots but I’m here a few more days so there’s still time lmao

[dragonridersandhighlords]

All The Ways We Stay

And the nicknames they have

I can’t ever find a good time to go into the reasonings for their nicknames so I figured I’d just post about them here!

Xaden is mostly the only person who calls Wrenley Little Bird by CS times. Her parents used to call her that as well as everyone but as they got older, Liam and Sloane called her Wrennie, Garrick and Bodhi teasingly called her princess, but Xaden never stopped calling her Little Bird especially after she lost her parents.

Wren is the only one Xaden willing let’s call him Xay. He hates that name with a passion, unless it’s from Wren. She used to call him Shadow when they were kids because he was always his dad’s shadow but after the rebellion when Xaden struggled with carrying his dad’s legacy she stopped.

Bodhi calling Kaelin trouble is my FAVORITE! She never gets in trouble, she follows the rules, except when she sneaks out the see Bodhi and he loves it. He called her trouble as a joke that first time but really he was predicting their future.

Kaelin thought Bodhi was cocky as hell that first day that met and then he showed off by flying Cuir around the areas she was studying and she started calling him hotshot (and no matter what he says, he loves it).

The nicknames for Brennan, Naolin, and Renna actually changed between the years at Basgiath and when they were actually in service.

At Basgiath, Brennan called her warden because she kept him and Naolin on track throughout the day and year. Naolin called her Ren, and only he did that. No one ever knew why, but she only let him call her that.

Once they graduated, Brennan started only calling her my wife, mainly because they got married right before they left. Naolin stopped using any nicknames until Renna and Brennan proved that their dynamic didn’t change just because the two were married. Then he called them my home and eventually husband and wife.

Renna always called Naolin flyboy cause he was cocky af after bonding Tairn. Brennan was always Bren or Golden Boy (just to tease him about who his mom is). After the Battle of Aretia, no one was allowed to speak their names around her without fear of a dagger to the shoulder (which she did do to a Lieutenant who dared to test her).

But you’ll have to read Before You Leave Me to find out about what happens after she finds Brennan again.

Aerin is very straight and to the point. So she often calls Garrick Wildcard and he always finds ways to live up to it.

Garrick calls her Echo at first because she’s always in his mind like an echo, but after he tells her about the rebellion it’s North because she’s the star the guides him home.

Ridoc calls Tessa shortcake and she HATES it. But he never stops. If he’s trying to be sweet, then its my girl.

When Ridoc says shortcake, Tessa comes back with Pretty Boy. (Despite how he preens, he hates the nickname) If he uses my girl, she’s back with Dove (which is a joke from when they were kids but Ridoc adores it).

[cinebration]

Got the Rhythm (Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader) [One-shot]

Premise: You challenge Rooster to a piano duet.

Warnings: none

Gif Source: paperjunk

When Rooster walked into the bar, you hardly paid him any mind—not with that terrible mustache, anyway. He had an undercurrent of the same cocky swagger you expected from all the pilots, somewhere on the spectrum between Hangman’s palpable arrogance and Bob’s quiet competence. In other words, he was a flyboy, and they were all trouble.

You glanced back to your girlfriends, noted how their gazes swept the room for the faces they liked the most. One of them elbowed the other as Rooster strode up to the bar.

“Him?”

“How doesn’t love a thick neck and a mustache?”

Your nose wrinkled. “Sometimes I forget you grew up watching Magnum, P.I.”

“Short shorts needs to make a comeback, that’s all I’m saying.”

Shaking your head, you glanced back at him. “He’s okay. “ You effected our best Mr. Darcy impression. “‘But not handsome enough to tempt me.’”

“You never know, maybe he’ll surprise you.”

“Doubtful.”

And then Rooster walked over to the piano and sat at the keys.

That caught your attention immediately. Pianists had always been attractive to you, not least of all because you happened to be one yourself. Leaning back in your seat, you waited for the show to begin, half hoping he would be terrible just so you could laugh about it and not have to reevaluate him.

The first chord struck, and he was off, fingers flying over the keys with the passion of someone who truly enjoyed music. To your dismay, he wasn’t half bad.

And then he started belting out a song.

“Oh dear Lord,” you muttered, turning away from the performance. Your chest constricted with the strength of the cringe you felt.

“I don’t understand you,” one of your friends said. “You can’t even handle it when people sing in movies.”

“It’s just so…” You waved a hand vaguely. “The cringe is strong, ladies. I’m dying here.”

“Then go shut him up.”

Frowning at her innuendo, you twisted your lips at her in a mock sneer and physically cringed again as you listened to Rooster crow. He sang well, but it didn’t change the fact that you wanted to flay the skin off yourself and flee the room.

Clearly you had to shut him up.

Shoving back hard from the table, your chair scraping loudly against the floor, you strode over the piano, interrupting Rooster’s serenade as you hip-checked him across the bench to make room for yourself. His fingers faltered on the keys, the song dying in his throat.

“Hello?”

“I thought you might like a challenge,” you answered, gently shaking out your wrists. “An improvised duet.”

His eyebrows rose. His friends that weren’t already circling the piano drew closer, a quiet “Ooooo” echoing in the background.

He laughed. “Dueling pianos?”

“Well, we only have the one, unfortunately. So it’ll be a fight for keys and elbow space.” You flashed your teeth at him, more challenge than smile. “If you think you can handle yourself.”

A chorus of “Oooos” swelled around you.

Hangman leaned his forearms on the top of the piano. “Let me give you a tip, beautiful.” He cast a sidelong glance at Rooster. “He has a speed problem.”

“Oh?”

He turned back to you. “He’s too slow.”

“Ohhhhh.” You nodded sagely. “So, he can’t keep up.”

“No, ma’am, he most definitely cannot.”

You watched the muscle in Rooster’s jaw flex.

“Let’s find out, shall we.” And you let loose on the keys.

Jaws dropped as your hands moved with an almost preternatural speed, coaxing surprising melodies from the ivories. You lost yourself in the music, in the feel of your fingers creating and maintaining rhythm. For a moment, you forget it was a competition, that even Rooster was sitting beside you on the bench.

A deeper harmony swelled up alongside yours, not quite as fast but still acting in concert with what you were putting down. You risked a glance at Rooster, jolted out of your musical trance, and saw him fixated on the keys, concentration write large on his expression.

A smirk tugged on your lips.

Your hands flew faster.

Roster increased his pace, sweat dotting the hairline on his forehead. To your surprise, you found yourself straining too, putting your all into the piece, throwing complex melodies at him in the hope he wouldn’t keep up, that he’d get up and leave you alone at the piano.

Yet he persisted, his elbow jostling yours as he laid down a heavy rhythm almost in harmonious counterpoint to yours.

He glanced aside at you, his gaze meeting yours. Despite the furrow in his brow, his eyes were bright, joy and excitement vibrant within them.

You brought the piece to a sudden crescendo and a resounding ending, Rooster echoing it with a few final chords.

You were surprised to find yourself breathing heavily, sweat trickling down the back of your neck in a tiny rivulet. Rooster’s chest heaved beside you, his face flushed with the exertion.

“Well,” you managed to say, your voice thick, “aren’t you full of surprises.”

“Surprise is my middle name.”

Hangman snorted and pushed himself away from the piano, shaking his head.

Rooster leaned forward into your space, as though drawn into your orbit. Surprise flooded through you as his nose nearly touched yours.

You slid off the bench, narrowly missing the kiss. He looked up with a frown.

You turned to leave, then hesitated. Snatching up a napkin, you scrawled across it. “If you want to duet again sometime, here’s my number.”

A stupid grin unfurled across his face.

“I like a man with good rhythm,” you murmured, and you returned to your table of friends, ignoring their snickers.

“See, he did surprise you,” one of them said.

“Shut up,” you groused, but a smile played on your lips.

Rooster stared at you all night. Thankfully, he didn’t resume singing.

[idontknowreallywhy]

A little sneaky WIP that won’t spoil SS Fic but which snuck up on me whilst fighting winter plague.

Yeah it’s evil General time again 🤣 I can’t be stopped!!!

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

“General Gaat, the intelligence report does raise the real possibility that the subject of the request may be being held at the Kończyć facility. With your permission I could make enquiries with our sources in the region…”

“If he was taken there it’s likely he didn’t last the week. I’m not sacrificing our people for a body recovery. If it’s even recoverable, which I doubt. It’s a no, Lieutenant.”

“But what if he’s alive and we didn’t act… there’d be an uproar, General. Lord Hugh alone could make a lot of trouble for our…”

“There are many of our servicemen and women in that camp, Lieutenant. Not to mention the aid workers, the medics… all of whose lives are equally as valuable as one jumped up flyboy who was like as not flying out of bounds in the first place.”

The young man blinked and his mouth dropped slightly and Belah chastised himself internally. Wouldn’t do to reveal any particular dislike towards the Tracy boy. He was just another name on the list. His list. With whom he was entitled to do as he so chose.

Belah picked up a pen and returned his attention to a sheaf of paperwork hoping the irritating underling would get the hint.

He didn’t get the hint. Fine, a more direct approach required:

“Dism…” but he was interrupted mid command. This one would have to be dealt with. Soon.

“With respect, General, perhaps this is our cue to make a move to rescue all of them. The rumours of that place… the people are talking…”

The pen snapped in his fingers. But he kept his voice even.

“I have said no. There are bigger things at play in Tatra than you can possibly comprehend and our position there will not be compromised just because one felled airman has a famous daddy. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?”

“But…”

“DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!”

“Yessir.”

He didn’t watch the man leave the room and thus managed to contain his rage until the click of the door confirmed he was alone.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[thedroneranger]

The Drone Ranger's Be Kind Rewind ⏪

A rec reblog series dedicated to the fics that we love so much, we've re-read them!

The Top Gun fandom has been going strong for over a year, and while we continue to churn out amazing new content, let's be kind and rewind to look at some of the OG content we love!

And don't forget to reblog when you re-read! Continue to show your comfort fics and favorite creators some love. It helps keep the fresh content coming :)

I'm kicking off this series by sharing some of my favorite re-reads, as well as one of my own (older) fics I think is worth your time.

Throughout the summer, I'm inviting friends—other creators and readers—to share their lists, so stay tuned!

If you're interested in participating in the Be Kind Rewind, message me! The more, the merrier—let's keep this going as long as we can!

You can also join the tag list here to be notified when a new list drops!

fics below the cut (listed in alphabetical order by title)

Dime Store Cowboy, Jake Seresin, @seasonsbloom This is the first cowboy Jake fic I read, and it's still my favorite! A sweet little two-shot where Jake teaches reader the cowboy hat rule. Yeehaw! 🤠

Flyboy, Jake Seresin, @kryptonitejelly This is the first Jake fic I read and loved. While everything in this universe is fantastic, A Drunken Confession is what my brain immediately goes to when I think of Flyboy.

Full of Surprises, Robert Floyd, @withahappyrefrain This is my gateway fic to the Bob Fucks agenda. And when I saw Abby wrote a follow-up. I damn near died.

The 1%, Bradley Bradshaw, @notroosterbradshaw I know I'm not the only that loves this fic, because it appears on my dash quite frequently. And every time, I re-read and reblog it!

The Boyfriend Experience, Bradley Bradshaw, @notroosterbradshaw Appears less on my dash, but a classic Bradley fic, nonetheless. I recently re-read it and fell in love all over again. Cass is the absolute king of the slow burn. Definitely read everything in this universe!

The Craftsman, Bradley Bradshaw, @roosterforme I'll read about Roo and Baby Girl as long as Em keeps writing about them. Once in a while I like to re-read my favorite moments, and this is one of them! I remember screeching to Em about how much I would love a house hunting fic—she delivered! 🦄

Bonus: The Grey Sweatpants, Bradley Bradshaw I requested this for Roo and BG, and I'm obsessed with it. Em did the concept such justice, and it's so Roo and BG! I hope you enjoy as much I do!

The Only Thing, Jake Seresin, @justfandomwritings This fic is amazing. It's a Jake fic written in Bradley's point-of-view. Sounds weird, but it works so, so well.

Trouble In Paradise, Bradley Bradshaw, @sunlightmurdock The Toxic King 👑 forever my king (don't at me). As is TiP Jake (still one of my favorite Jakes). And this fic is forever in my heart since it's the first one I read in the fandom—what a welcome! I stan the ending, btw. 💛

Until I Found You, Bradley Bradshaw, @cherrycola27 The cutest of meet cutes. Nik is also the king of pilot!reader fics—this is no exception. Read it. Love it. Reblog it.

Bonus: Battle Plans, Jake Seresin Full disclosure: I requested this for Nik's Dagger Deities celly. In true Nik fashion, she gave us everything, including the kitchen sink! 🧅

Creator's Own

You Get Me Closer, Bradley Bradshaw This is actually the very first fic I wrote for the TGM fandom! It's inspired by the Nine Inch Nails song, Closer. Give it a read! I hope you enjoy!

Tag list and friends: @petcr3 @desert-fern @mygyn @horseshoegirl @the-annoying-fan @sagittarius-lovewitch @wkndwlff @dingochef @sweetwhispersofchaos @galaxy-of-stories @taytaylala12 @malindacath @violyn20 @awildewit @potato-girl99981 @shanimallina87 @blue-aconite @djs8891 @linkpk88 @furiousladyking @daggerspare-standingby @princess76179 @jstarr86 @hecate-steps-on-me @darkheartcherry @soulmates8 @roosters-girl @dempy @mayhemmanaged @roosterisdaddy36 @hangmanscoming @s-u-t @mavrellover91 @chicomonks @averyhotchner @penguin876 @kmc1989 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @cassiemitchell @seitmai

A kind reminder, this is a 18+ blog. While not all stories in the recommendation list are 18+, please respect boundaries and do not interact unless you are 18 years of age or older.

[redfurrycat]

🐓Navy - Not A Pilot!Bradley Bradshaw Fic Recs🐓

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: Barnes_Brain, Ceterum, Dandeliondick, Elliot, Flyingfightingfishy, ForASecondThereWedWon, Haridwar, Jeston17, LetPeteBeMaverick, Renai_chan, SaintClaire, SunMonTue, ToukoJalorda003.

Note. Feel free to drop any recs you may have that fit the recs list.

Any ship (and rating) is welcome! 🥰

Navy - Not A Pilot!Jake Seresin > Not Navy - Still A Flyboy At Heart

Trouble With Comms by ForASecondThereWedWon {E}

WSO / Hangster

Bradley gets himself a gig as Jake’s back-seater. Now that he’s a little more familiar with the circuit breakers, it’s easy to switch off the radio and be the only voice in Jake’s ear.

You Make Me Live by Renai_chan {E}

US Naval Academy > Pilot / Hangster

Once upon a time, Jake met Rooster. Eight years later, he's a freshman at the US Naval Academy, and Bradley Bradshaw comes back into his life. Except, they've both grown up, and with growth, paths diverge.

Handle With Care by Barnes_Brain {E}

Catapult Officer > Pilot / Hangster

Ever since he could remember, Bradley wanted to be a pilot. When he was seventeen his dad, and Ice, pulled his papers from the Naval Academy. When he was barely 22 they did it again and pulled his wings out from underneath him. Stamped with a Do Not Fly he’d been delegated to Catapult Officer. After a particularly long deployment, and a very short fight, Bradley gets his chance at becoming a Naval Aviator as he’s always dreamed of. Once he’s got his wings of gold he meets Jake “Hangman” Seresin, another young pilot. He’s cocky, headstrong, handsome, brash, witty, striking, and most of all oblivious to the fact that Bradley is not flight deck crew anymore, or the son of the Commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet. So maybe Bradley has the hots for the obnoxious pilot who looks like a Greek god. And maybe he doesn’t want to scare him off. Sue him.

I know exactly who you could be by haridwar {T}

Navy Doctor / Hangster

Bradley works in the Roosevelt's medical centre and gets a front row seat for the joyful experience that is The Mission

our paths will cross again by haridwar {E}

PA / Hangster

An angel worked for the navy and Jake was only half embarrassed to admit that he was obsessed with him. or: Jake keeps running into Iceman's assistant without realising that's who he is

I need attention (and I need it all from you) by haridwar {M}

Warrant Officer / Hangster

“Mom and I agreed I wasn’t gonna enlist Mav.” Bradley had been reluctant to remind him while also trying not to sound too heartbroken. He didn’t want his mother feeling guiltier than she already did when there were more important things to be thinking about. “You promised your mom you wouldn’t fly, that you wouldn’t be a fighter pilot. There’s so much more to the navy than just that kiddo.” or: Bradley is a mini Hondo

My Little Soldier Boy, I'll be True to You... by dandeliondick {E}

WSO / Hangster

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw was one of the best WSO out there and when a back-seater of the dagger squad is injured, he's assigned to fill in. Hangman is confident and cocky and cool, but the team is thrilled to watch as one mustached pilot seems to fluster the blonde at every turn.

Never leaving you again by Elliot {T}

WSO / Hangster

The mission, but Hangman and Rooster are a pilot-wso pair, and also exs. Hangman is the pilot, Rooster is the wso.

Take Me Home Tonight by Jeston17 {E}

Aerospace Engineer / Hangster

“You’re not a pilot, are you?” Jake asks. Bradley shakes his head, “No, I’m actually an aerospace engineer, but I work for the Navy at North Island. It’s how I know Natasha.” “I figured you weren’t a pilot,” Jake says, “I would have met you before, and I don’t think I could forget a face like that.” Jake gives him a suggestive look, and Bradley realizes he’s flirting. His heart jumps at the idea, and he feels the blood rush to his face. “Is it because of the mustache?” Bradley asks, trying to play it cool. “Not just,” Jake winks. Or: AU where Bradley is an aerospace engineer who is getting back into the dating scene after a breakup. He meets Jake at a bar with Phoenix, and the sparks start flying.

Maverick for America by LetPeteBeMaverick

Deputy National Security Advisor / Hangster

Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all {M}

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell may not have won the Top Gun trophy, but he did win the 2020 Presidential Election. Luckily, his wingman is there to keep his feet on the ground.

Seven Visitor Passes {T}

The seven people who visit Bradley Bradshaw in the hospital.

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin {E}

Jake first kisses Bradley outside the Hard Deck in 2012, but that's only half the story.

Invitation To The Deep by SaintClaire {E}

Navy SEAL / Hangster

The call comes in at nine o’clock in the evening. He nearly screens it when he picks the phone up - it’s far too late in the evening for whatever bullshit this is. Blocked number. “Seresin speaking.” --- A world-renowned exploratory dive specialist. A mustached Navy SEAL. 80 hours of oxygen on the clock. A single dive submarine wedged between a thousand tons of crumbling volcanic rock. And an underwater labyrinth that Jake Seresin has cut his teeth, his family, and his career on; down amongst the grottos of the deep, glowing with life in pitch-black water.

Flying in Less Than Ideal Circumstances (And the Best Possible Outcomes) by ToukoJalorda003 {M}

WSO / Hangster

All Rooster had ever wanted was to be a WSO. He’d never had any interest in being a pilot - and when he finally got what he wanted, he’d hardly expected to be paired with Hangman, of all people. But perhaps it wasn’t all bad. Maybe. If he would be willing to admit that Hangman wasn’t terrible. That might have been easier to do, though, before everything went just slightly wrong.

sweet relief by haridwar {M}

Aviation technician / Hangster

“We’re not supposed to be strangers, Jake. I can’t keep doing this if that’s how you want things to stay.” or... catching feelings after casual sex

you're all i can think of these days by haridwar {T}

Navy SEAL / Hangster

Jake and Mav's no good very bad week and Bradley's efforts to save them

Somebody to Lean On by flyingfightingfishy {T}

US Naval Academy / Hangster

To say that Bradley's first impression of Jake was poor would be an understatement. He found the man arrogant, annoying, and unable to admit when he was wrong (although he probably shouldn't look too closely in the mirror when he said that). When he hears that Jake got violently airsick, he thinks maybe it will teach the man a lesson. To his surprise, it ends up teaching them both a lesson. OR Overcoming airsickness isn't a destination, it's a journey that's all about the friends (and lovers) we meet along the way.

It's not who you know by SunMonTue {M}

Flight School / Hangster

Low-angst Nepo!Baby Bradley and his four years at the USNA and his head-in-the-sand approach to the nepotism and the fact that he ends up being known as the guy with the two hot dads instead...

dumb for you by haridwar

Navy SEAL / Hangster

abuse my love a thousand times {E}

Where Jason Seresin was Bradley’s rock, his platonic soulmate, his favourite person in the world most days, Jacob Seresin was the absolute bane of his existence. or… what not to do when in love with your best friend’s brother

feel the urge to drop defence {T}

“And what did you get up to on your summer vacation, Seresin?” “Oh, you know,” Jason began with a nonchalant shrug, throwing an arm over the back of Bradley’s chair as he made himself more comfortable. “Logged some quality time with my mom, soaked up some of that sweet ass Cali sunshine, found out my best friend’s spent the last decade secretly hooking up with my baby brother… pretty standard stuff really.”

wanna fight, but i can’t contend by ceterum {M}

Navy SEAL / Hangster

A one-night stand with a handsome stranger sends Jake’s life into a tailspin.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Joseph Burgo, Ph.D.

Published: Jan 17, 2024

As my thoughts began to coalesce around the subject of this essay–adolescents in history rebelling against their parents–memories of an old movie from my childhood kept coming to mind. Even readers who haven’t seen it have probably heard the name–Gidget, a low-budget California beach movie starring Sandra Dee, James Darren and Cliff Robertson. It was released in 1959 and spawned two film sequels, two TV series, and several made-for-television movies. In early December of last year, I tracked down the original Gidget on YouTube and watched it again–some 50 years after I’d first seen it.

The title character’s obsession with surfing, and her transformation from tomboy to infatuated teenager and finally to wise young woman don’t concern me here. It’s the subplot focusing on two other characters that resonates with my subject matter. Kahuna, a man somewhere in his late 20s or early 30s, lives in a shack at the edge of a surfing beach. After serving as a pilot during the Korean War, he has decided to drop out of society and live as a bum, following the sun and traveling the world in search of waves. His only true companion is a parrot named Flyboy, although the gang of teenage surfer boys who hang around him that summer look up to Kahuna as their leader.

One of those surfers, nicknamed Moondoggie, is home for the summer after his freshman year at college; he has resolved to drop out instead of returning to campus in the fall, team up with his hero Kahuna, and pursue the life of a beach bum. Both men have rejected the rules-driven adult world. Neither wants the responsibility that comes with adulthood, viewing it as a kind of prison. In a gesture of defiance, Moondoggie tears up the allowance check he has received from his father and vows to go it alone.

[ Sandra Dee as Gidget (left), James Darren as Moondoggie (middle), and Cliff Robertson as The (Big) Kahuna (right) ]

In 1959 when this film was released, Western Civilization was on the verge of major social upheaval as youth culture began challenging long-standing social norms about sexuality, marriage, and family. But there on the cusp of this revolution, Gidget’s world seems confident that the generation of young people coming of age will eventually submit to the values of their parents. At the outset, Moondoggie and Kahuna are both adolescents rejecting the authority of the existing social order; but in the end, they embrace it. Kahuna gets a job as a pilot. Before returning to college, Moondoggie gives Gidget his pin, a promise of future marriage and a new generation of children to come.

Adolescents rebelling against the authority embodied in an existing social order and eventually becoming reconciled to it—this is a story we’ve been telling for generations.

By identifying as “trans” in today’s youth culture, adolescent rebellion has found a new way to express itself. I don’t want to be simplistic about the society-wide dynamics here. There are other obvious factors involved: a permissive social order in which it’s hard to find any behavior extreme enough to count as true rebellion, for example, and a social media landscape that makes teens feel insecure, insignificant, and desperate to prove they’re unique. But here I want to talk about the way a rebellion against authority can fuel trans-identification in our children.

My 16-year-old client Sophia, for example, had given her parents no trouble as a younger girl. For most of her childhood, she’d been a respectful daughter and a good student. Because her family had moved around quite a bit due to her father’s shifting business, she hadn’t made close friends and rarely socialized outside the family. Her mother had always taken an active interest in Sophia’s schoolwork and athletics. And then one day, Sophia announced that she was trans, told them she wanted to be called Finn, and insisted that her parents use he/him pronouns.

I’ve had other female clients with a nearly identical background, and I’ve heard similar stories from other parents who’ve consulted me about their trans-identified teens. The announcement often comes out of the blue following a mostly non-conflictual childhood, causing a lot of angst and opening a rift between child and parents. Nothing the parents say–no evidence they bring or logic they apply–makes any difference. The child rejects it all from a place of absolute certainty. “I know I’m trans,” they’ll say. “I’ve always known it.”

These children have often been a bit different from the other kids, struggling to fit in. Maybe they were highly gifted or on the autism spectrum. They might just have been “quirky” and beloved for it by their parents. But especially during the teen years, the need to belong to one’s peer group overrides almost everything else; and as American teens have done for generations, these quirky kids reject the values of their parents for new ones held by other kids their own age, especially as they pertain to sex and gender.

Back in the 1970s, Goth became the dominant form of youth rebellion. The Goth scene rejected traditional sexual mores while celebrating new and occasionally deviant forms of sexuality. There are obvious similarities between that movement and today’s transgenderism. Dr. Az Hakeem, a British psychiatrist with extensive experience treating gender distress, has actually referred to Trans as “Goth 2.0.”

The main difference between the two is obvious, however: teens and young adults immersed in Goth might have pierced or tattooed their limbs, but they didn’t have healthy body parts removed by surgeons. They no doubt consumed illicit drugs, but not off-label anti-cancer medications and cross-sex hormones that may leave them sterile. Once they grew out of Goth, young adults were probably left with a few embarrassing tattoos or piercings but no other visible scars, unlike detransitioners today who may be scarred for life.

Contempt for parents often plays a role in youth rebellion, be it mild or toxic. Back in Gidget’s day, the kids were hip while the adults holding onto their old-fashioned ways were square and not at all with it. Today, moms and dads who quaintly cling to the duality of biological sex are clueless about the multiplicity of possible genders; if they refuse to affirm their child’s new identity, insisting it’s impossible to change from one sex to another, they’re deemed transphobic and therefore unworthy of respect. Most of the trans-identified teens I see in my practice feel and express utter contempt for their mothers and fathers. Two of them will turn 18 within the next six months; they both regard their parents with scorn and intend to have no further contact after coming of legal age.

Behind the contempt, I sense a lot of terror about impending adulthood. The teens in my practice look forward to their medicalized transition as if it will be a major accomplishment, more significant than anything else they’ll ever do, but they have little understanding about how to lead a responsible adult life. I often say to my young clients that transition is not an achievement: they still have to figure out what career they’d like to pursue, and how to make enough money to support the lifestyle they want. One of these clients poo-poos the very idea of earning money and insists she’ll live in a camper van, free from responsibility. Another imagines devoting her life to collecting vintage motorcycles, believing that about $30K per year is all she’ll need. None of them ever imagines having children or building a family, much less planning ahead for retirement. They have a narrow vision of their own future that seems to go no further than attaining the freedom to start taking cross-sex hormones.

In this sense they remind me of Kahuna and Moondoggie, those two characters from Gidget in flight from the responsibilities of adulthood. While my clients apparently look forward to escaping their parents’ control and attaining the legal right to make their own choices, they don’t really want the responsibilities that go along with such freedom. On some level, they see transition as an escape from the dreaded reality of adulthood, a triumph over the tedious world of facts, financial obligations, and inevitable limits.

There’s another classic film you might know, The Graduate, directed by the brilliant Mike Nichols. Benjamin Braddock, the main character, spends most of the movie rebelling against the limitations and responsibilities imposed by the real world, the world of his stodgy parents; at the end, after he has relentlessly pursued young Elaine and disrupted her more-or-less forced marriage to another man, the two run off, she still in her wedding gown, and escape on board a city bus. The final shot shows realization slowly dawning upon them, their facial expressions collapsing from elation into dread.

Now what are we going to do?

At the close of The Graduate, Benjamin and Elaine realize that however fun and even exciting it might be to rebel against their parents, at the end of the day, they’ve achieved nothing beyond wrecking their families; in the aftermath, they’ll have to pick up the pieces and make a life for themselves in the real world. You can’t outrun reality, of course. It will always prevail in the end. In a softer way, you see Moondoggie and Kahuna coming to this realization at the end of Gidget.

For millennia, parental authority has been the primary means of transmitting a culture’s values: parents teach their children to abide by standards embodied in their culture, and the world-at-large has almost always supported the parents in exercising that role … at least until now. Honor thy father and thy mother says the Fifth Commandment; today, children learn that if Mom and Dad won’t affirm their new identity and use the designated pronouns, they should cut off those parents and embrace a new glitter family online. In California, a state court deprived Adam Vena of visitation rights because he wouldn’t affirm his four-year-old son’s new gender identity. The modern world often undermines parental authority when it takes a stand against gender ideology.

By severing ties between parent and child, a cult does the same thing; it appropriates parental authority onto itself as a way to bind members more tightly to the group. The votaries of gender ideology likewise subvert parents, replacing their guidance with cultish dogma. A great many influential forces today promote this dogma, from primary education to medical boards to professional associations–a society-wide rebellion against parental authority and, I would add, against the ultimate authority that is reality.

Every parent I’ve consulted with has felt helpless in the face of this phenomenon. Based on their love and better knowledge of their own children, they believe they know what’s best for those kids but feel unable to wield authority as parents to guide them. In my own case, when I insisted there were obvious psychological reasons why my daughter might have wanted to become a boy, I was treated with contempt by the medical establishment and colleagues in my profession. Meanwhile, all around my daughter, every influential voice in her world told her that I, her father, was wrong.

But I also believe that we, as parents, bear some responsibility for the erosion of our own authority. Many mothers and fathers today seem uncomfortable with the very idea of parental authority, preferring to be buddies with their kids rather than authority figures. Maybe we don’t want to be viewed as square or stodgy, droning on about antiquated notions like taking personal responsibility and showing respect for your elders. I remember the slight feeling of shock and discomfort I felt upon first hearing myself say the words “because I said so!” to my own kids. Why should I have felt so uneasy when exerting myself as the adult in charge and expecting my children to mind me?

Writing for The Atlantic, the psychologist Joshua Coleman says that family ties have shifted over the last century from a focus on duty and obligation to one promoting personal growth and the pursuit of fulfillment. He quotes the historian Stephanie Coontz, who says: “For most of history, family relationships were based on mutual obligations rather than on mutual understanding. Parents or children might reproach the other for failing to honor/acknowledge their duty, but the idea that a relative could be faulted for failing to honor/acknowledge one’s ‘identity’ would have been incomprehensible.” In our youth-driven culture, words like duty, obligation and authority sound almost quaint. Today there seems to be no valid authority outside of one’s personal “lived experience.”

What’s to be done? How are we as parents to regain authority and prevent our children from permanently damaging their bodies when a cultish ideology encourages them to do so? This is the question every parent of a trans-identified child would like to ask, I imagine, and I wish I had a simple answer. The longer I work in this field, the more I feel that gender ideology must be questioned in every area where it dominates; only if we loosen gender ideology’s stranglehold on our cultural institutions can we hope to return parental authority to its rightful place. Get involved in the pushback–that’s my advice to parents. Run for your school board, get to know your local politicians, challenge this new orthodoxy wherever you see it. Don’t play the pronoun game.

I’d also like to say something in particular about fathers. As a father myself, I’m concerned with specifically paternal sources of authority: What is the role of fathers in helping our families to navigate this crisis? Does paternal authority differ in any important ways from maternal authority? And where are all the fathers, anyway? I’ve had a few joint consultations with both parents of a trans-identified child but it’s invariably the wife who does the talking. More often, I have consultations with the mothers alone. I sometimes wonder whether empathic, nurturing mothers are so desperate to maintain contact with their children that they won’t or can’t draw a firmer line. Perhaps the fathers, by deferring to their wife’s lead, have failed to mount a more vigorous defense of reality.

Could that be a paternal function? I honestly don’t know. I think of Chris Elston–better known as Billboard Chris–who addressed himself to Rachel Levine on Twitter, saying that puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones would be normalized for children “over my dead body.” Is that an implicit threat of violence? As fathers, do we need to take a more aggressive stance?

I’m prepared to be told that I’m just projecting here, or possibly overgeneralizing. Questions about my exercise of paternal authority within my own family–or my failure to exercise it properly–are on my mind a lot these days. With the modern world the way it is, it sometimes seems as if there’s nothing that even an authoritative and loving father can do. I often feel helpless and without any real power, an ineffectual if well-intentioned dad.

Which brings me back to Gidget. We’re all familiar with the bumbling father motif in television and commercials today–the clueless man set right by his clever wife and children. Al Bundy, Homer Simpson, Ray Barone. I used to think this was a more recent phenomenon but there it was in a movie from 1959. Gidget’s dad seems constantly baffled by his daughter’s behavior, issuing hasty pronouncements that are promptly undermined or ignored by his wife and child. He wears an expression of near constant bewilderment. It’s up to the two women in his world to set him on the right path.

I dug a little deeper and learned that father figures from 1950s sitcoms like “Make Room for Daddy,” “My Little Margie,” and “Life with Father” typically tended to be hapless buffoons. As a culture, we’ve been ridiculing the very notion of paternal authority for decades. Even the series title for “Father Knows Best” was originally intended to have a question mark at the end, to make it ironic and thereby underscore the well-known reality that mothers were the real heads of households. My friend the historian Peter Filene tells me that this belittling of fathers goes even further back–to the 1920s when comic strips began depicting men as shorter than their wives.

Then there’s the classic teen rebellion movie Rebel Without a Cause from 1955, with James Dean playing the main character Jim Stark. Jim’s father, overshadowed by his domineering wife, is a weak man unable to wield any kind of authority. In one famous scene, Jim comes upon his dad kneeling on the upstairs landing of their home wearing a frilly apron. Dad has dropped a dinner tray he prepared for “mom” and is cleaning up after himself, obviously fearful that his wife will discover the mess he’s made. Jim clearly wants and needs his father to stand tall and stop humiliating himself.

This might sound like I’m blaming women for usurping authority from their husbands by belittling them, but that’s not what I believe. I think it’s a society-wide problem where, for more than a century now, the force of paternal authority has been undermined through ridicule and mockery. In recent years, our ongoing critique of the “patriarchy” often makes it seem as if all sources of power and authority exercised by men are inevitably bad.

In Totem and Taboo written back in 1913, Freud opined that fathers embody the symbolic order of society, law, and external reality; they set boundaries, establish rules, and help their children to navigate the external world by introducing principles of discipline and order. A lot has changed in the last hundred or so years, and even to my ears, Freud’s view sounds quaint and out of date. Besides, how can you maintain rules and boundaries when the external world will only encourage your children to violate them?

But still, I cling to the belief that there’s an important and distinctive role for fathers to play in fighting this gender madness, even if I can’t yet define it. If you’re a father who’d like to discuss this issue, I invite you to reach out, in confidence and at no charge.

==

Here's the interesting thing. You can only rebel and exist at the margins if the margins actually exist.

When everyone is special, no one is special.

Queer Theory is self-contradictory.

[oh-surprise-its-me]

I think in the grand scheme of having Chris being from Texas we forgot one important detail. The man would be wearing a Stetson at times and there’s a rule that goes if you steal the hat you have to ride the cowboy. Tom and Ron being from New York wouldn’t know that rule. Tom and Ron have probably seen Hollywood steal Wolf’s from off his head so they probably think that it’s something cute to do to your partner like a way of flirting. So could we have Tom or Ron or both stealing Chris’s Stetson for the first time and finding out the rule about stealing it.

- lovehate ❤️❤️❤️

LOVE I WAS LITERALLY THINKING THIS THE OTHER DAY WHOOHOOO OUR MIDWEST BLOOD KICKED IN

ANYWAYS

-

It was late in the middle of June. Wolf and Chris had just gotten back from riding horses. They’re still fully outfitted up. Boots, hats, dusty jeans.

Chris wants a shower but decides it can wait, he smells food.

He flicks Wolf’s hat as they walk away from the barn. He gets shoved for his trouble. They chase after each other and crash into the backyard. “Woah!”

Chris has Wolf in a headlock when he looks up at Tommy, “hey baby!”

Tom snorts and waves. “Have fun?” Wolf straightens and smiles while tossing an arm around Chris’s shoulders. “Hell yeah. Where’s Holly?” Tom points at the pool where Holly is stretched out in the sun like a lizard. Wolf grins and starts to sneak up on him.

Tom shakes his head and grabs Chris by his belt loops, “hi cowboy.” Chris leans back with a hand on his hat to kiss Tom. “My flyboy.”

Chris feels his hat get plucked from his head. “Hey pretty boy.” He spins in Tom’s arms to stare at Ron. He opens and closes his mouth to the sight of Ron with his cowboy hat on. There’s whistles from where Wolf and Holly are laying.

“YEAAH RON GET IT!!”

Ron blinks over their shoulders to stare at the two other men. “Do I wanna know?” Chris’s mouth opens again and closes, a hand reaches around and takes the hat again.

He knows if he turns the hat will be on Tommy’s head.

He turns with a gasp. Fuck Tom looks good. Like Clint Eastwood but hotter Jesus Christ.

“Damn Chris you’re not gonna sleep tonight huh?” Wolf walks by without his own hat now, he claps Tom’s shoulder on the way by. “Wolf I swear.”

Holly gasps from where he’s got Wolf’s hat on, “do they not know??”

Ron and Tom blink at each other, “know what..?”

Chris sighs. How can he explain this. This hat rule that these two city boys would have no idea about. The rule that Holly had to learn the hard way according to stories from the two.

Wolf beats him to it. “Save a horse ride the cowboy. You take the hat you ride the ride.” Chris smacks his head down into Tom’s shoulder with a whispered “Goddamn it.”

Ron let’s put a startled laugh. Tom’s fingers tighten from where he’s holding onto Chris. “So does this mean I ride you or Ron?” Chris bites Tom’s shoulder hard. “It doesn’t count if you didn’t know.” Ron makes a sad noise behind Chris. “What if I wanna follow through?” Tom reaches out and pulls Ron closer. “Yeah what we wanna do that?”

Chris is pink. He can’t help it. He knows Wolf and Holly know shit about them but damn if this isn’t crossing some lines. “You two. Guest room. We’ll have dinner in an hour?”

Wolf whoops while pulling Holly up, “come on cowboy let’s go.” Holly laughs and let’s Wolf pull him into the house.

Tom takes off the hat and tosses it onto the table. He starts biting the side of Chris’s neck. Ron pulls Chris back so their hips line up.

Chris can only moan. “If y’all want to that’s great but it felt unfair to do this without you knowing the rule.” Tom laughs. He kisses Chris quickly, “it’s cute you think we wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to ride you.” Chris goes even redder. He stutters at that. “Well? I- I mean like? You didn’t know! I thought you did! Holly takes Wolf’s hat enough!”

Ron laughs and kisses Chris’s neck. “Mysz we honestly thought it was a them thing. Or like a Texas thing since Lucas has done it to David before.”

Chris slowly nods. He guesses that makes sense. He snakes a hand into Tom’s hair. “So? We’ve got enough time for one of you to ride me. Who’s first?” Ron gently bites Chris’s ear, “me. I got the hat first. Anyways Tommy stole it from me.” Tom whines from where he’s been working on sucking a bruise into Chris’s chest. “I wanna ride him too. Fuck how about both of you.”

Chris’s hands tighten on Tom’s waist. “Later. Jesus much later so we can make you scream without having to look Wolf or Holly in the eyes after.”

Ron snorts and pulls them towards the house. They’ve got 45 minutes until the rescheduled dinner. They’ll make something work.

[dameronswife-2]

This is gonna be a really long ramble, I know! But I really just need to get my feelings out about that comic. I've always loved s.w, ever since I was a kid! It was a hyperfixation that I didn't always get to indulge in and I had stronger interests - t.fa brought it back centerstage, and it's all thanks to Poe. I almost bailed after learning they killed H.an, but I still wanted to meet the new characters (particularly R.ey), but in less than five minutes, that flyboy had turned my life upside down, turned me into a deer in the headlights, and made a switch flick on in my head — by the time the words “who talks first?” tumbled out of his mouth, I knew this was going to be my s.w.

and it wasn't easy, at all through the years. my father despises the film and had no trouble for years rubbing in my face what terrible films they were or loudly listening to grifters; I sat and listened to them be openly mocked by everyone, and eventually slunk to shipping corners for a while cos it seemed that was the only positive place left — which backfired, because I had to clam up fast about Poe being my favorite. I had an ex friend openly mock re*der insert to me after I admitted I'd started reading them for Poe, so I quit reading those too. But it was easy, because at the time everyone hated Poe and hated t.lj. 

after tros, and the initial backlash, I gave up for a while. I was tired of spending so much energy defending the movies or trying to love Poe peacefully and I did nothing with them for almost a year. Started parroting what everyone else said, and then I ended up pining (blatantly) for Poe the entire time, until Fall 2020 I jumped back in feet first.

Things have certainly improved since the films were coming out but it's still hard not to feel like an outsider. I've been teased for pairing my (pt era) oc with him, I've had the movies snubbed in my face or on my gifs. I've had people shake me around like an encyclopedia for info on Poe and get mad about the answers I have. I've had people sexualize him in my inbox expecting me to cheerfully join in. I've seen everyone gleefully objectify his torture. Eventually, the ableism and oversexualization became too much and I left that fandom; I joined swtwt after finding a positive community there but they tend to favor stuff in the sequels I don't care for (some of the force stuff bores me a lil bit, others champion H.oldo as a perfect angel, and there's plenty of love for R.esit.ance Re.bo.rn which is a book that makes me physically ill). Also the shipping and the fetishization and - well you get the idea.

Trying to do other s.w stuff doesn't really work for me. I got into swt.or for theron but it's off and on - there's a lot of triggering material in the game (see: doc’s entire existence), and I got rlly into the ac*lyte for the sequel vibes but. fandom again isn't good and also it got cancelled. I don't like any of what's really “popular” in the fandom either; and lf seemed happy until this year to ignore anything st or Poe related for years (the last thing we got was in November 2022). Topps cards are always wildly rude about him, in ways they aren't for anyone else! 

I know technically there is no “wrong” way to like a piece of media. But it is very lonely, sometimes when it seems like very few people share that enthusiasm. And without going too deeply into things, I'm very used to my feelings or my interests going ignored or “being too much”; and I struggle with toning myself down for it. I think being so excited for that comic, and then having everything I love about the movie, and having Poe sidelined so horribly! just made me once again feel like I don't necessarily belong or that I'm not a “real fan” or something. 

And the mind trick thing really upset me; the way Poe gets treated by F.inn and R.ey in that movie is already abysmal but the concept that someone who he thought was a friend could have been screwing with his head as well just upsets me so deeply, especially with how wary he seems even as he jokes about it? Like…baby break up with them and go back to B.lack S.quadron. Please?