#I have four songs on my playlist I made for it a while ago and two of them refer to the nondescript object and its creator

[tracle0]

hello hello! hope you're well!! I'm here to offer my nano playlist making services :D what's the vibe?

o/ howdy! the vibe is 'small bookish child who really wants a cool fantasy adventure in the same vein as the Famous Five or something similar is apprenticed by a man possessed by a storm, and colours are important and magic. Together, they've got to destroy a nondescript object capable of bleaching all pigments everywhere, which is a Bad Thing'

[2hightocare]

SWEET NOTHINGS ✷

Summary: You and Jungkook host thanksgiving dinner at your guys’ house, but Jungkook is head over heels in love with you.

pairing: husband!jungkook x wife!reader

warnings: pure fluff, jungkook is whipped, reader and jungkook are corny as hell, and a lot of curse words. A lot of kissing… a little bit of spanish. crying.

"Baby, what are you wearing? Are we going to match?" Your husband yells from upstairs, making you chuckle lightly. "I left your outfit hanging in the bathroom," you yell back while bending over, turning on the light of the oven where the turkey Jungkook added almost four hours ago stares back at you.

"Do I take the turkey out now, babe?" You yell for your husband upstairs to listen. "I don’t know; let me call my mom," he says. You jump, a small shriek leaving your lips as you put your hand over your heart and close your eyes.

"Fuck, you scared the shit outta me," a small chuckle slips past your mouth as Jungkook laughs with his head thrown back and dimples on full display.

"I’m so sorry, baby. I thought you heard me coming downstairs." His mouth adorned with a grin while slowly pulling you to him with his hands on your waist.

"Hi," you say as he kisses your lips.

"Hi, baby," he greets back, putting a loose piece of your hair behind your ear. "You look so beautiful," Jungkook gives you one more kiss before making you do a little spin for him.

Your brown long-sleeve off-shoulder mini dress matches his brown crewneck. His black jeans match your black stockings and black long boots you ended up stealing from your sister last time she visited. "You look sexy, so eatable I’m afraid." You look up at him with a big smile on your face before tiptoeing to give him a quick kiss before making your way back to the mashed potatoes you said you would do.

One thing about Jungkook is that he could stay mesmerized by your actions and words even if whatever you were doing was something so normal just like right now. The way your curled hair falls in front of your face, but with your hands occupied, you try to blow on it before trying to use your elbow to push it away, causing Jungkook to let out a chuckle, making his way to help you.

"I thought that was the reason you have a bow on, baby." Jungkook pushes both your long curtain bangs back to its place, securing it with the bow. "I’m not even going to ask how you were able to do that so fast," you throw a glare at Jungkook, making him burst into another laugh.

"Baby, I have to fix Ji-woo’s bows all the time." Jungkook laughs softly in the crook of your neck from behind, his hands wrapped around your waist.

Ji-woo being yours’ and Jungkook’s only goddaughter, and the only child in both of your families. You and Jungkook always brought up the topic of kids for it to always be shut down after seeing kids throw tantrums in tv shows or when going grocery shopping, which only ends with us looking at each other before shivering at the thought that one day that could be our future child.

The thought of having children it’s not completely shut down; you and Jungkook just feel like you guys will like to wait just a bit more before having a kid. Ji-woo and Bam were enough for you both.

You both sway to the song playing from the living room TV, coming from your ‘j🖤’ playlist.

"Did you ask your mom about the turkey?" You ask finally finishing smashing the potatoes, pushing the bowl to the center of the white counter where other dishes you made yesterday are gathered.

"Hm, texted her, and she said she was on her way," he murmurs from the crown of your head before finally letting go of you. "I have some to give you be right back," Jungkook makes his way to the garage door where both of your guys' cars are. As you wipe down the countertops and table, the door opens, making you look up, finding Jungkook holding the biggest flower bouquet you have ever seen.

A gasp leaves your mouth as you stare at the beautiful bright red roses. "Oh my god, baby, what?" Your lips pout as he kisses them and hands you the bouquet. "Fuck, this is heavy," you hold the flowers with both hands, the bouquet covering your entire face, making Jungkook chuckle. "Baby, I can’t even hug you to say thank you," you whine, feeling your eyes slightly water. You had always been so sensitive when it came to gestures Jungkook has done for you. That one time he took it upon himself to learn Spanish to be able to ask your parents in their native language for your hand in marriage, or the one time he took you to Paris on your one-year anniversary because you told him you always wished of going but never was able to due to your parents' financial issues.

"Baby, don’t cry," Jungkook quickly takes the flowers from your grip and puts them on the counter before cupping your face and blowing on your face, making you burst out laughing. Jungkook smiles while kissing your face.

"I just love you so much," you whisper all while he finishes kissing your closed eyes. "I love you so much more," Jungkook replies back before pulling you into a hug; you immediately melt into his warmth.

"I’m so seriously so in love with you," you say against his chest while he kisses the top of your head soothing you.

"And I'm in love with you," Jungkook says muffled against your hair; you stay there for a minute just feeling each other’s warmth and comfort while "Sweet Nothings" by Taylor Swift plays in the background.

"We’re so fucking corny, I swear," you joke, making both of you crack up until both your stomachs hurt.

"You had to ruin the moment huh?" He smirks at you before leaning down to leave a big fat kiss on your lips.

"I actually have one more thing, and I need you to close your eyes," Jungkook bites on his lip, his dimples showing. "Oh my god, are you serious? You just gave me around a hundred flowers, and there’s more?" Your mouth hangs open, earning another small laugh from Jungkook.

"Okay, no, for real though, close your eyes; I’ll be right back." Jungkook disappears again through the garage door. Not knowing what to expect, you close your eyes.

Funny how the butterflies and cartwheels your tummy still does even after all these years has you feeling so happy and thankful for the person you get to spend your whole life with.

The garage door opens, which makes you giddy like a teenage girl waiting for her crush to tell them they like them.

"Okay, open, baby." You open your eyes, your mouth drops open. "You’re fucking kidding, Jungkook."

You stare at the small white fluffy kitty with grey spots, that is laying comfortably in Jungkook’s arms. Your hands make their way to your mouth to conceal the small scream you want to let out. You had been begging Jungkook to let you get a cat for almost three months now.

Jungkook’s cheeks hurt from how hard he is smiling, looking down at you and how you softly caress it.

"What’s its name?" You look up at Jungkook, who is already looking at you with galaxies in his eyes. "You choose, baby, it’s yours." Jungkook places the small kitten into your arms. “Oh my fuck, it’s mine,” you squeal as the kitten looks up at you, making you melt even more.

“No mames” (you gotta be shitting me), you say in your native language, making Jungkook smile wider as he sees you struggle to find a name.

“It’s a boy, if that helps.” Jungkook leans against the counter, watching your every move, his heart swelling. “And if we named it ‘Bubbles’?” Your head snaps to Jungkook’s, waiting for his reaction to the name.

“I love that,” he scrunches his nose before nodding up and down. “Oh my god, I’m a mother,” you pick up Bubbles into the air, softly spinning around.

“Excuse you! You've been a mother, what about Bam!” Jungkook dramatically puts his hand on his heart, acting out like he just took a hit to the chest. “Stop! I love Bammy!” You defend yourself.

You make your way to your husband, kissing his lips over and over again, causing him to smile into your mouth. “Thank you so much, baby.” You thank him for the twelfth time before the doorbell to the entrance door rings. “Coming!” Jungkook yells, hoping whoever is outside heard.

…

As both of your families gather at the dining table, where we had to pull some chairs from outside so all eleven of us can eat around the table.

“Okay, so who’s going to start with what they are thankful for?” your sister says as her husband pokes her side, “I say you go first since you wanna share so bad,” your brother-in-law tells her, making everyone laugh.

Your sister scoffs before raising her wine glass to the air, then giving us a look to do the same, causing Jungkook’s mom to let out a small snort. “I’m thankful for all of you guys; you seriously make my days better by just opening the family group chat,” she jokes. “And I’m super thankful for everything I have accomplished this year, cheers!”

“Cheers!” Everyone clinks their glasses in the air, beside Ji-woo, who has her chubby fingers in her mouth, giggling along with whatever we’re saying.

The table goes around saying what they’re thankful for before stopping at Jungkook, his hand on your thigh squeezes before he starts.

“Okay, your turn, my love,” Jungkook’s mom says to Jungkook, who smiles at his mom. “Corny trigger warning, please!” Jung-hyun, Jungkook’s brother, jokes, which gets him a swat from his wife. “What the-“ Jung-hyun rubs the back of his head, staring agape at his wife. The table bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, well, I wanted to start with thanking everybody for coming,” Jungkook starts off, making everyone say a small ‘you’re welcome’. “I’m super thankful for my family; I truly don’t know how I could’ve possibly turned out without you guys,” he continues. “I’m grateful for y/n’s family, my second family; thank you for welcoming me into your life, and god suegra, thank you for birthing y/n,” Jungkook rambles off, causing the biggest laugh to come out of everyone.

“And I’m so grateful for my wife,” his eyes find their way to yours, making you melt into your seat like putty; a bunch of collective ‘oohs’ come out of everyone’s mouth.

“I truly love you with everything in me, and I’m so grateful for you. Thank you for making me the happiest man ever since I met you. You’re literally the best thing that has ever been mine.” Jungkook finishes with a huge smile on his face. Your lip quivers, and your hands make their way to your eyes again, hoping the tears you’re holding in don’t come pouring. Everyone around the table claps and is in awe of you both.

“What’s with you making me cry today?” your hands flap in front of your face, like if that could help the tears blurring your vision.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jungkook wipes the tears that fall down your eyes. “I love you so much I can’t-“ Jungkook shushes you with a small kiss and softly puts your loose hair strands behind your ear.

“Okay, enough lovey-dovey shit. I’m trying to eat!” Jung-hyun says, making everyone laugh as everyone starts digging into the food they put on their plates not so long ago.

Jungkook kisses the corner of your mouth before his fingers move to the gold ‘J’ necklace he got you years ago. Jungkook smiles to himself as his thumb moves across the letter. You pull him from his sweater until his ear is at the same level as your mouth before whispering.

“I love you, now eat.” Jungkook chuckles under his breath at your words before whispering back. “Yes, ma’am.” The hugest smile stays on everyone’s face the whole night.

A/n: hi omg this is my first ever fanfic I have posted, sorry if there’s some errors hope you enjoyed.🤍 (all of this is just fictional)

[theostrophywife]

CHAPTER FOUR

home | chapters | playlist

🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: wonder by shawn mendes.

🤍 author’s note: you don't want to miss this one 😏

Step 4 of Pansy Parkinson’s Perfect Plan of Plotting

One Bed — : A narrative device used primarily in romance and romantic comedy genres, where two characters, typically with a burgeoning romantic tension, are forced to share a single bed.

The halfway point. So far, we’re four days in and my devious schemes are already proving fruitful. The tension between Theo and Y/N has been off the charts lately, but it just needs one final little push. After my minion informed me that Theo has been cheating the system by sleeping on the couch, it’s time to take away that barrier once and for all. 

Fourth Year, Slytherin Dormitories

“I look ridiculous,” you murmured at your reflection. 

“Ridiculously hot,” Pansy corrected. 

Behind you, she curled a section of your hair with her wand, letting it fall in soft tendrils while you fretted in front of the mirror. Tonight was the night. Ever since the start of term, the Yule Ball was all anyone could talk about. At first, you were just as excited as the rest of your classmates, but the closer it got, the more anxious you felt. 

You swallowed thickly, wondering why in the bloody hell you allowed Pansy to rope you into buying this dress. Examining your reflection, you smoothed down the front of the baby blue ball gown, fingers trailing over the plunging neckline delicately covered in white lace.

The dress was a lot more daring than anything in your wardrobe, but Pansy insisted. She was convinced that it was perfect for you, but you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. The ball gown certainly left little to the imagination. It cinched your waist like a lover’s embrace, the blue fabric resting right above your left thigh in a high slit that accentuated your legs before flowing into a dreamy tulle train. Still, you couldn’t deny that it was beautiful. 

“This dress was made for you, babe.” Pansy declared as she finished pinning your hair up. “Graham is going to die when he sees you.” 

At the mention of your date, you blanched. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Graham. Since the beginning of fourth year, you’ve gone on a handful of dates with him and they’ve all been relatively pleasant, but that was the problem. There was no spark, no excitement, no butterflies. No matter how hard you willed it into existence. 

There was only one person who made you feel that way, but that was a complication for another day. Theo already loathed Graham enough — truly, he loathed any guy that showed interest in you, but Graham had been the first one that your best friend hadn’t successfully deterred. When he asked you to be his date to the Yule Ball, it only seemed natural to accept. Now that it loomed close, you felt sick to your stomach. 

Still, you tampered down the anxiety and turned to your friend. If anyone had a right to dread the night ahead, it was Pansy. 

“Will you be alright tonight?” 

In a rare display of vulnerability, Pansy's smile dropped as she met your gaze in the mirror. Instantly, you pulled her to the edge of her bed and knelt down next to her. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can stay in and watch movies. Just say the word and I’ll cancel, Pans.” 

Just a few days ago, she had broken things off with Padma after the Ravenclaw announced that she would be attending the Yule Ball with Ron bloody Weasley. It came as a shock, given the fact that Padma and Pansy had been seeing each other since term started. 

You thought things were going well. Pansy had been out to your group of friends for a couple of months now and while everyone had been supportive of her journey, Padma was reluctant to make things public. Her own twin hadn’t even been aware of their relationship. You understood that coming out looked differently for everyone, but it broke your heart to listen to Pansy doubt herself. She didn’t deserve to be kept as a secret. 

“And forfeit the chance to show my ex-girlfriend what she’s missing out on?” Pansy said, sniffing haughtily and squaring her shoulders back. “Not bloody likely.” 

“There’s the Pansy Parkinson I know.” 

Much to her annoyance, you pulled Pansy into a hug. Sighing, she relented and squeezed back as you grinned. “You know, I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart. Patil’s an absolute idiot for ever letting you go. You’re the smartest, funniest, and hottest witch I know. You’re the motherfucking Pansy Parkinson. Any witch in this castle would kill to have you as their girlfriend.” 

Your friend chuckled. “Thank you, Y/N. It feels strange to be on the other end of a motivational speech. Does it always feel this way when I do it?” 

“Well, you tend to be a little bit more forceful,” you teased. “But I love you for it.” 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

Just as you pulled away, a sharp knock startled you out of the tender moment. You and Pansy stared at each other. 

“Come in,” Pansy called. 

Draco stumbled through the door, his platinum blonde hair uncharacteristically tousled and his pale complexion tinged with a deep flush. The Malfoy heir looked like he just finished sprinting through the castle. “It’s Theo,” he breathed.

At the mention of your best friend, you sprang to your feet. “What happened?” 

“He just received a patronus from Rome,” Draco explained. “Nonna is in the hospital.” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Is she alright?” 

“Theo didn’t say much, but he’s with the headmaster right now. They’ve given him permission to floo to Rome.” 

“I have to — I have to go —” You couldn’t breathe. Fear threatened to overcome you entirely, but you fought against it. Theo needed you. “I can’t let him be alone.” 

“I know,” Draco agreed. “Professor Snape said he’s leaving within the hour, so we have to hurry.”

As quickly as possible, the three of you rushed out into the corridor. The sound of your heels clicking against the marble tile echoed as you and Pansy followed Draco’s lead. In his haste, Draco stomped down the staircase and nearly collided with the person waiting at the bottom step. 

At the landing, Graham stood at attention. Your date was wearing a perfectly tailored deep blue dress robe with shiny leather shoes, which made him appear taller than he actually was. His dark hair was slicked back and away from his green eyes that now roamed over your figure. In his hands was a delicately crafted corsage, presumably for you. 

“There you are,” said Graham. He straightened the front of his robes, impatience flickering through his expression. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

“I’m so sorry, Graham, but now is not a good time.” You rushed out as Draco tapped his watch, signaling the hour. Theo could be stepping through the floo any moment now. “I have to go. It’s an emergency.” 

Graham frowned. “What’s happened? What do you mean you have to go?” 

“Theo’s grandmother is in the hospital. I don’t have time to explain, but please know I’m very sorry to miss the ball.” 

“Miss the ball?” He repeated in disbelief. “You’re ditching me for Nott?” 

Graham was well aware of Theo’s dislike of him. In fact, the feeling was mutual. He didn’t like that the two of you were so close, but there was nothing to be done about that now. 

“Of course she is! This is a family emergency, you twat. Y/N would never leave Theo alone at a time like this.” Draco growled, frustration written all over his face. “Now get out of the bloody way, Montague.”  

“This can’t be happening.” 

“Look, we can talk about it when we get back, but I really have to go.” 

“No,” Graham firmly stated. He gripped your wrist and held you in place. Fury like no other surged through you. “You have to choose. It’s either me or Theo.” 

Without thinking, you snatched your arm away and leveled Graham with an icy glare. “Theo. I pick Theo. You may be my date for tonight, but he’s — Theo is — Theo is my person.” 

You didn’t wait for a reaction. You couldn’t care less about the fallout. Graham should’ve known better than to give you an ultimatum. In your mind, there was no choice other than Theo. You would always pick him. Shoving Montague out of the way, you sprinted through the castle with Pansy and Draco following closely behind. When you reached the headmaster’s office, the phoenix statue standing guard over the entrance gave you pause. 

“How do we get in?” you asked frantically. 

“I don’t know,” Draco admitted. He examined the stairs, looking for any sort of opening. 

Pansy stomped on the spiral staircase in an attempt to get it moving, but nothing happened. With determination, you plucked your wand from your dress pocket and instructed your friends to move. If you had to bombarda the bloody thing, you would. 

“Drop your wand, Miss Y/L/N.” 

You whirled around to find the head of your house staring down at you in disapproval. Professor Snape stood between you and the door, his impenetrable gaze sliding from your wand to the phoenix statue. You held your chin high and your wand even higher. In all your years at Hogwarts, you had never defied Snape so openly, but you were determined to get into that office one way or another.

“What exactly is your plan?” Snape asked with his arms crossed. “Decimate the headmaster’s beloved statue to gain entrance?” 

“If it came to that, then yes.” You held your wand steady even though anxiety and apprehension brewed within you like a malevolent storm. 

Draco shot to his feet. “She just needs to see Theo, professor.” 

Snape appraised you for a moment. You made no indication of standing down. “Follow me, then. The headmaster has been expecting you.” 

Without further explanation, Snape climbed onto the spiral staircase. Pansy and Draco squeezed you into a hug and wished you luck. You promised to send them word as soon as you could. As the stairs began to ascend, you watched anxiously as their faces disappeared from view. 

Inside the headmaster’s office, Theo paced back and forth while Dumbledore attempted to comfort him. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with a baby blue vest and matching tie, the latter of which now hung loosely around his neck as he tugged at the silk. The sight of it was heart wrenching. Even though his expression was cold and distant, you could tell that Theo was worried beyond belief. His fear was as palpable as your own. 

“Teddy?” 

Relief washed over Theo as he turned to find you standing before him. Your best friend gravitated towards you, his lower lip trembling as you surged forward to gather him in your arms. 

“You came,” he murmured in a broken whisper. 

“Of course I did,” you assured him as you rubbed his back. “I wouldn’t leave you alone at a time like this.” 

Theo took a deep breath as you cradled his cheek. His gaze roamed over your dress, apprehension written all over his features. “I’m so sorry, fragolina. I didn’t mean to ruin your night. I know how much you were looking forward to the ball. Fuck, Montague must be furious —” 

“To hell with Montague,” you stated firmly. “You’re more important.” 

Your best friend slid his hand into yours, squeezing tightly as he faced Dumbledore and Snape. “We’re ready to go now.” 

Within a few moments, you found yourself stepping through the lobby of a hospital. Healers milled about in the large, brightly lit room, rushing off to care for their patients. The sight of the yellow robed witches and wizards gave Theo pause. You could only imagine that their presence brought forth traumatic memories of his mum’s frequent trips to St. Mungo’s. 

Steeling yourself, you marched right up to the front desk and greeted the elderly witch sitting behind the counter. She gave a wide berth at your overly formal attire, but smiled politely when she caught herself. 

“Buonasera, siamo qui per vedere Serafina Conti.” 

“Qual è il tuo rapporto con il paziente?”

“Grandson,” Theo rasped. “I’m her grandson.” 

The healer checked the records, her eyes skimming over the patient charts. “Serafina is under heavy sedation. The rest of your family has been contacted and should be arriving soon.”

“What exactly happened?” 

“Your grandmother contracted a case of Forest Cough. Typically, the cough is very mild. Had Serafina sought treatment earlier this week, she would’ve been perfectly fine, but since she waited, it developed into a fever.” 

You swallowed thickly. “Will she be alright?” 

“Her healer has her on a dose of magical antibiotics, which also acts as a mild sedative. With a few hours of rest, Serafina should recover quite quickly. If any other symptoms arise, we do advise that she seek treatment as soon as possible. The worst thing you can do is wait.” 

“Thank you so much.” The weight on your heart lessened at the reassurance. Nonna would be alright. That was all that mattered. “Could we please see her?” 

The witch nodded. “Of course. Follow me.” 

The two of you followed the healer through a long corridor. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow color that matched the healer’s robes, but even its sunny shade couldn’t mask the cold and sterile feeling of the hospital. Beside you, Theo tensed as you passed room after room of patients, his gaze lingering on the still bodies within. 

You squeezed his hand, distracting him from his own memories. “It’s alright,” you murmured. “Nonna is going to be alright, Teddy.” 

Theo tore his gaze away from a pale witch laying still on a stretcher, his expression shifting from worry to relief. He nodded in agreement and squeezed your hand back. 

Just then, the elderly witch led you into a private room. She poked her head through the door, alerting nonna of your presence. “Serafina, there’s visitors here to see you.” 

As she ushered you in, you couldn’t help but notice how small and fragile nonna looked. To you, Serafina Conti had always been larger than life, but right now, you realized that even a strong woman like her wasn’t invulnerable. Be that as it may, nonna haughtily sat up in her bed and crossed her arms as though she owned the place. 

With a look of disapproval, she tutted at the both of you. “Why are you here?’

“Aldo sent a patronus,” Theo explained. “He said you were in the hospital. We were worried sick!”

“You know how your cousin loves his theatrics,” Nonna said with a nonchalant wave. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

“They said they had to sedate you, that you had Forest Cough and you waited so long that it turned into a fever —”

“The healers are overzealous, as usual. All this fuss over a cough. It’s ridiculous, really.” 

“Stop treating it like a joke!” Theo snapped, his voice echoing off the walls. You had never heard him speak to his grandmother like this, which told you how truly upset he was about the entire situation. “I could’ve lost you, nonna. I can’t — I can’t go through that again.” 

Nonna’s expression softened. She knew more than anyone how the loss of her daughter nearly broke Theo. “I’m alright, Theodore. I apologize for worrying you, but I promise that everything is fine.” Theo’s shoulders slumped, the tension easing from his body as his grandmother held his hand. “Besides, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Who’s going to help plan you and Y/N’s wedding?” 

A choked sob broke free from your throat. You hadn’t even realized that you were holding in tears until this moment. For the past hour, you were focused on doing whatever it took to get to Rome. Now that you were standing before nonna, the possibility of losing her crashed over you all at once. 

You sniffled and wiped an errant tear away as she took your hand. “Don’t cry, piccolina. It’ll take more than a silly little cough to take me out.” 

“We were so worried,” you confessed. “We just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“I’m alive and kicking,” she joked. In a softer tone, she said, “Thank you for accompanying Theodore. As upset as I am that you both skipped the Yule Ball to be here, I am glad I got to see the two of you like this. You make a beautiful couple.” 

“Nonna,” Theo groaned. “Now is really not the time.” 

Nonna rolled her eyes, ignoring her grandson. “So, tell me. When did Theodore finally pluck up the courage to ask you to be his date?” 

Theo sighed, knowing that there was no stopping his grandmother. He busied himself with tidying up her surroundings, flinging the curtains open to reveal a stunning view of the city. Rome was a beauty to behold, its ancient streets thrumming with excitement even at this late hour. In the distance, you could make out the Sistine Chapel under the glittering stars.

“I was actually supposed to go with someone else.” Up until this point, you had completely forgotten all about Montague. You knew you’d have to deal with that when you returned, but he seemed rather insignificant given all that had occurred. “Graham Montague.” 

Nonna wrinkled her nose. The gesture told you all you needed to know about her opinion of him. “If you were going with the Montague boy, then why are you and my grandson matching?” 

Your gaze flickered up to Theo’s baby blue vest and tie, which were both a perfect match to the color of your ball gown. “I don’t know, actually. Teddy never saw my dress. I might have mentioned that I was wearing blue, but not the exact shade.” 

“This is the shade of blue that you always say you look best in,” Theo explained. “It’s your favorite color. Everyone knows that.” 

“Nobody knows that.” 

“Well, I know that.” 

Graham certainly hadn’t. You had shown him the exact color, yet he still picked the wrong shade to wear. You thought that perhaps boys were just clueless when it came to this sort of thing. After all, blue was blue. But Theo knew. Of course he knew.

An amused smirk appeared on nonna’s face as she watched the interaction. She was outright grinning when Theo busied himself with her pillows, fluffing them quite aggressively to hide the flush on his cheeks. You couldn’t help but smile. 

An hour later, Theo’s cousin Aldo finally arrived from Vallara. It had been a nightmare to journey to Rome, given that the floo station in the countryside closed earlier than most. Aldo had to travel to Amalfi by apparating, which took quite the toll on him. Regardless, he was glad to see that nonna was in stable condition. 

The rest of Theo’s cousins piled into the small room, nearly causing a fire hazard from the sheer amount of people packed in such a tiny space. The two of you gave them time to fuss over nonna, happily changing into the extra clothes they had brought. The ball gown was a feat to remove, the tulle and silk nearly suffocating you as you tried to maneuver out of it in the bathroom stall. In the end, you prevailed. Despite the fact that Theo’s sweats and hoodie nearly swallowed you whole, you were thankful to be in comfier clothing. 

After chatting with his cousins and ensuring that nonna would be properly cared for, the two of you said your goodbyes. You wished you could stay longer, but it was time to return to the castle. Under the silver moon, you and Theo walked through the empty streets, marveling at the beauty of Rome. 

“I never got to tell you,” Theo said suddenly. “You look beautiful tonight.” 

“Looked,” you corrected. “No offense, but my dress was a little more fashionable than this outfit.” 

“You could wear a plastic bag and I’d still think that you’re beautiful, bella.” 

You flushed at the compliment, hiding its effect behind a curtain of hair. “Thank you, Teddy.” 

“No, thank you. I couldn’t have gotten through all of that without you.” Theo took your hand, twirling the emerald ring on your finger with a small smile. “I’m sorry that I messed things up for you with Montague.” 

“Don’t lie, Teddy. You’re not sorry.” 

Theo smiled sheepishly. “You’re right. I’m not.” 

“It’s alright. It probably wouldn’t have worked out between us anyways.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“I don’t think he really knew me,” you mused. “He couldn’t even remember my favorite color.” 

“What an idiot,” teased Theo. “Still, you must be bummed about missing the ball. I know you were looking forward to it.” 

“There will be other balls,” you responded. “This was more important.” 

Theo lifted your hand and brushed his lips against your knuckles. “I’m really glad you’re here with me, bella.” 

“Me too, Teddy,” you whispered softly. “Me too.” 

Day Four, The Clay Cliffs

Laughter emanated from your phone while you recounted the events of the past few days to your parents. When you described the trip to the Temple of Cupid, your mum teared up as your dad comforted her in the back garden. The two of them were having afternoon tea when you called, which was the perfect time to chat and catch up. 

Attempting to lighten the mood, your dad peered into the screen. “Is that the infamous convertible?” 

You grinned and panned around the baby blue car, which you were currently lounging in as you waited for the rest of your friends to arrive. Theo insisted on driving up the Clay Cliffs, while Pansy and the boys rented bikes to take the more scenic route. You had absolutely no desire to struggle up the cliffside, so you opted to accompany your best friend instead. 

As if on cue, Theo bounded back into the car after begrudgingly helping a group of tourists with directions. “Hi Laurel! Hi Alistair!’” 

Your parents waved as Theo slipped into the driver seat. He grinned into the camera before snatching your favorite heart shaped sunglasses off your head and placing them over his eyes. “Hi, Theo. Congratulations on the car. She’s a beauty!”

“Theo hasn’t hit a single curb our whole trip. The driving lessons finally paid off, dad.” 

“I’m proud of you, son.” 

Beside you, Theo flushed and shyly thanked your dad. Shifting in his seat, he grabbed the phone from your hand and squeezed himself into frame. No matter how many times you explained the technology of video calls to him, Theo still wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t a form of magic. 

“The garden looks great, Alistair.” Theo lowered his sunglasses and squinted at the screen. “The cherry tree looks like it’s blooming.” 

You furrowed your brow. “When did you add a cherry tree?” 

“The start of summer,” your dad answered. “Theo helped me plant it before he left for Vallara.” 

“He also cooked us a fantastic dinner,” your mum added. She looked wistful, probably fantasizing about your best friend’s cooking. “I still dream about that carbonara.” 

“I promise to cook it for you the next time I visit.” 

“Speaking of which,” your dad interjected. “Are we still on for Sunday tea when you’re back in town?” 

“Of course,” Theo assured. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“You guys are having tea without me?” you asked incredulously. 

Your mum nodded. “Well, we have to do something to fill our time while our little girl is off at Oxford.” 

Theo nudged you, smiling. “Don’t worry, bella. Now that I have my car, I can come and kidnap you during the weekends.” 

You beamed. “Thanks, Teddy.” 

Just then, you heard bells ringing through the clearing. The rest of your friends had finally caught up, racing up the narrow trail in colorful bikes. 

Mattheo honked his horn, the wind plastering his curls to his cheek as he pedaled uphill. “Come on lovebirds, it’s time. Last one to dive off the cliff owes the group a round tonight!” 

Your mum let out a surprised squeak. “Please tell me you’re not jumping headfirst off a cliff.” 

“I would, but then I’d be lying.” 

“Y/N  Y/L/N!” 

“Hm, what was that, mum? I think you’re breaking up.” 

Theo snickered as your mum began to lecture the two of you. Fortunately, your dad talked her down before she could continue her rant. “Bye, sweetheart, have fun! You too, son. Take care of our little girl. Love you both.” 

Your best friend waved at your parents, a grin present on his face. “Always! Love you, miss you. See you soon!” 

“Love you mum and dad. Talk to you later!.” 

After bidding your parents goodbye, you and Theo made your way up to the top of the Clay Cliffs. At the peak, Mattheo waved you towards the cliff’s edge. Cautiously, you made your way over to where the rest of the boys stood. The four of them were busy placing bets on who could do the most flips before landing. 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Just make sure you don’t break your neck. It would put a damper on my holiday.” 

“My money’s on you,” you stated as you draped an arm over her shoulder. You don’t know why the boys bothered. Pansy was by far the most athletic out of all of you. 

“Are you making the jump this year?” 

Your stomach flipped as you peered over the cliffside. The drop was at least fifty feet, which was intimidating enough without your paralyzing fear of heights. Still, you were determined to face this phobia of yours once and for all. You didn’t know when you’d get another chance to share this moment with your favorite people. Despite your determination, it didn’t make the task less daunting. 

Steeling yourself, you nodded. “Yes. It would be a shame to come all this way and not do it.” 

Pansy smiled and squeezed your hand. “You’ve got this, babe.” 

The support gave you a little boost of confidence, especially after the boys assured you that they’d all be waiting at the bottom and cheering you on. You watched in anticipation as Blaise and Draco went first, their dives perfectly synchronized as they flipped two times in the air before slicing through the water. 

“Showoffs,” Mattheo muttered as he kicked off his shoes. He squinted at the waves below, no doubt calculating if he can beat Blaise and Draco. 

“You’ve got this, Matt,” you encouraged. “You’re by far the most obnoxious competitive person I know. Show them how it’s done.” 

“Thanks, I think?” Mattheo responded with an amused chuckle. He raised a brow as a mischievous grin tugged at his lips. “Mind giving me a good luck kiss?” 

“I will kick you off this damn cliff,” Theo threatened.

With a smirk, Mattheo saluted the two of you before joining your friends below. Just as you predicted, he executed three flips on the way down. Enzo went shortly after and tied with Mattheo, much to the latter’s annoyance. Pansy gracefully followed with a series of four flips that had you cheering and whistling. 

Finally, it was your turn. You slowly peeled your dress off and carefully arranged it next to everyone else’s clothes. Theo tugged his shirt off before flinging it in the same general direction. You shook your head as you folded it up for him, rolling your eyes fondly while he apologized with a sheepish grin. 

Those familiar watercolor eyes snagged on your blue dotted bikini, the heat of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but return the favor, cheeks heating as you shamelessly scanned Theo’s toned chest and chiseled abs. When he was younger, Theo often complained about his lanky build, but you liked how tall and lean he was. He’d certainly grown into it now. As if those mesmerizing eyes and sex tousled waves and impish grin wasn’t enough, Theo also had to be funny and kind and sweet. 

Truly, it was unfair to the rest of the world. 

“Are you nervous, bella?” 

You shook off your daydreams and returned to reality. “A little.” You made the mistake of looking down at the waves below. From this point of view, everything seemed that much more terrifying.  “Is it silly that I’m scared?” 

Theo gently grabbed your hand, prying you away from anxiously twisting your emerald ring. “I don’t think it’s silly at all,” he replied. “It’s normal to feel scared.” 

“But you’re not scared of anything.” 

Your best friend chuckled. “Are you kidding? I’m scared of everything, all the time. I just act like I’m not.” 

“Really?” 

Theo nodded. “Do you remember the first time I met the guys?” 

“At Malfoy Manor, right? When we were eight.” 

“I was so scared that they wouldn’t like me, that they wouldn’t understand my accent, but mostly I was scared that you’d figure out that they were funnier and smarter and cooler than I was and I’d lose my best friend.” 

Your expression softened. “You could never lose me, Teddy.” 

“I know that now,” Theo said with a smile. “But back then, I was terrified. Until you told me that we were a package deal. That if they didn’t like me, then you didn’t like them either because we came as a pair. You couldn’t have one without the other.” 

“I was only stating the obvious.” 

“Maybe, but you don’t know what that meant to me. Besides mum, no one has ever stood up for me like that. I remember you threatening to push Flint into the garden fountain when he said I sounded funny even though he was older and bigger than the both of us combined.” 

The memory made you chuckle. “If only I had that courage now.” 

“You do,” Theo assured you. “My point is, you’re the bravest person I know. I’m never scared when I’m with you.” 

“You’ve never told me that before,” you said softly, sniffling a little. You couldn’t help it. Theo knew exactly what to say to put your mind at ease. 

“I was saving it for the view,” Theo replied cheekily. “It really gives it that theatrical effect.” 

Though you could still feel your heart beating against your ribcage, your anxiety lessened. You squeezed Theo’s hand, mostly to remind yourself that he was here with you. His presence always grounded you. 

“Will you jump with me?” you asked shyly. 

Theo’s smile was like a shot of espresso, warm and soothing as it surged through your nervous system like caffeine. You could see why people said that coffee was as addictive as the next hard drug, because you were pretty sure that you’d chase this high for the rest of your life. 

Your heart soared as he squeezed your hand back. “Of course, fragolina,” he declared proudly. “I’d be offended if you didn’t pick me to do something so stupid and reckless with.” 

“You’re quite right. The most stupid and reckless things I’ve ever done in my life have included you in some way or another.” 

Theo grinned and kissed the back of your knuckles. “You’re stalling.” 

“Maybe a little bit.” 

“We’ll do it together,” he said. “Like everything in life. On the count of three, we jump, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“One…two…”

“Wait, jump on three or after three?” 

“Now!” 

With a scream, you and Theo broke out into a sprint and leapt off the cliffside. Your stomach turned inside out and upside down while your heart galloped in your chest. The adrenaline kicked in as you plunged through the water, the waves splashing all around you as you kicked back up to the surface. 

It was scary, it was exhilarating, but most of all, it was reassuring because when you broke free, Theo was still holding your hand.

Later that night, you found yourself ducking into the mouth of a cave. Behind you, the boys grumbled as they crouched, nearly hitting their heads on the jagged rocks. Draco mumbled something about sullying his expensive silk button down, while Enzo mocked his cousin with an overly snooty accent. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Blaise asked warily. 

“Have I ever steered you wrong, Zabini?” 

“Do you want me to answer honestly?” 

To be fair, you couldn’t exactly blame Blaise for doubting your best friend. Theo promised to bring you and your friends to the hottest party in town only to lead you into the heart of a cave. 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Just a little more,” he urged. “Then you’ll see that Theodore Nott always delivers. Isn’t that right, bella?” 

You scoffed. “Well, Theodore Nott needs to deliver a little faster, because my feet are absolutely killing me. Had I known we were going spelunking, I would’ve opted out of heels.” 

“I second that,” Pansy huffed in annoyance. “I’m honestly considering throwing my stiletto at your head, Nott.” 

“Keep your shoes to yourself, ladies,” Theo warned as he led you further into the cave. 

In the distance, you could hear the muffled sound of music and the thump of the bass echoing through the rock. You gaped as the crowd came into view. Lights flashed along the cavern, pulsing to the beat of the music. The inside of the cave looked like a club, complete with a DJ, a fully stocked bar, and a makeshift dance floor. 

“How did you even know about this?” Draco asked. 

“I was invited by a local,” Theo responded slyly. “Speaking of which, here’s our host now.” 

The local was none other than Dante, who was now strolling up to your group with a tray full of limoncello. You watched in confusion as Theo exchanged cheek kisses with Dante as though they were old friends. 

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Pansy greeted. 

“Indeed,” Dante agreed. “I must admit, I was surprised when Theo called me up after your visit to the vineyard. I got the feeling that he wasn’t too fond of me.” 

“What would ever make you think that?” quipped your best friend. 

Dante chuckled. “After he proposed a fresh start, I couldn’t help but agree. Besides, there is no way I’d pass up the chance to show you the hottest party in town. Welcome to Vallara’s most exclusive club, my friends.” 

“Wow,” Mattheo exclaimed. “This is sick.” 

Enzo nodded in agreement. “Is that a body paint station? Did that girl just take off her top — where are you going, Mattheo? Hey, wait for me!” 

You chuckled as the two boys hustled to the other side of the room. Theo rolled his eyes and apologized for their behavior, but Dante merely waved it off before passing out the limoncello. 

“To new friends,” Theo proposed. 

Dante clinked his glass with his. “To new friends!” 

The limoncello was dangerously sweet and smooth, its tart aftertaste causing your face to pucker. The drinks flowed after that as Dante introduced your group of friends to the crowd. For the most part, everyone in attendance was a local, which made you feel honored to be welcomed into their midst. 

As always, Theo was a natural at working the crowd. Your best friend seemed to have taken your advice to heart, because he and Dante were currently laughing and chatting with yesterday’s not-so-great first impression clearly forgotten. From the glimpses you stole from the dance floor, Theo was currently trying to play wingman, talking Dante up to a very handsome local. He took the job quite seriously, politely declining any attention thrown his way. 

“How is it fair that Nott is turning girls away while none of them will even look at me?” complained Mattheo. 

“It’s because you reek of desperation.” Draco responded honestly, brushing off a nonexistent piece of lint from his shirt. 

“And he doesn’t?” Mattheo exclaimed. “Theo’s been following Y/N around like a lost puppy all summer. Hell, all his life.” 

“That’s not desperation, you dolt,” Pansy scoffed. “That’s love.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Theo’s not in love with —” The protest died in your throat as Theo caught your eye from across the room. His face lit up when he spotted you like you were the beacon he’d been searching for in the dark. 

Mattheo ignored your comment entirely. “So if I fall in love, girls will flock to me?” 

Draco shook his head. “That’s not the point. When you fall in love, no one else matters. You can’t even see anyone but them. You just know deep down inside that you’ve found your person.” 

“Y/N.” You startled as Theo hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“What?” asked Mattheo.

“My person,” Theo clarified. “It’s Y/N. That’s what Draco was talking about, right?” 

Draco smirked. “Told you, Riddle.” 

The shit eating grins remained on your friend’s faces even during the walk home from the cave. It didn’t help that Theo insisted on giving you a piggyback ride through the cobblestone streets after one too many complaints about your aching feet. As he set you down on the bathroom counter, Theo shook his head. 

“I will never understand why you choose to punish yourself this way, bella.”

You shrugged, watching as your best friend removed the death traps from your feet. “Beauty is pain, Teddy.” 

“Must be why I’m always aching,” Theo remarked with a dramatic sigh. “Pretty hurts.” 

You snorted as you jumped off the counter and began your ten step skincare routine. Theo traded places with you, swinging his long legs while he handed you product after product. He grinned like a little kid when you swiped toner, moisturizer, and serum onto his face.  Not that he needed it. Irritatingly enough, his skin was clear as day without the aid of expensive products. 

After you finished brushing your teeth together, the two of you changed into pajamas and settled for the night. You buried yourself in bed, sighing at the cold sheets and fluffy pillows. Theo made his way over to the love seat that he’d been sleeping on for the past few nights, but it was gone. Nowhere to be found. He stared at the empty spot in complete bafflement. 

“Is the couch…”

“Yup.” 

“Completely gone?” 

“Mhm."

“Disappeared off the face of the earth.” 

“Seems like it.” 

“Oh god,” you groaned. “I’m sorry, Teddy. I have a feeling this is Pansy’s doing. She’s been scheming all summer. First the honeymoon suite and then this.” 

“It’s okay, fragolina,” Theo assured you. “I can just sleep on the living room couch.”

You shook your head vehemently. “You shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.” 

“I’m fine, bella.” 

“Theo,” you whisper, your voice disrupting the blissful bubble of silence. “I don’t want you to sleep on the couch.” 

Realization flooded Theo’s features. He smiled softly, shy and sweet as he made his way over to you. Making room for him, you threw the blankets back and watched as he crawled into bed beside you. Theo settled on his side, his head resting on the pillow as he faced you. 

You mirrored his action, suddenly feeling vulnerable as those piercing blue eyes flitted over you. “Hi.” 

Theo grinned. “Hi.” 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. The serene sounds of the countryside lapped all around you; the gentle breeze swaying gently through the open window, the soothing lull of the waves kissing the shore, all of it syncing with the rhythmic beating of your heart. 

The moonlight streamed into the room in glittering strips of silver, its light bathing Theo in its ethereal glow. His fluffy hair, his boyish grin, his sleepy eyes. You had never seen anything more beautiful and breathtaking in your life. 

“You’re my person, too.” 

The smile on his face would’ve put the stars to shame. The gravity of it was magnetizing, drawing you in like an inevitable force. 

“Do you know that you’re my favorite person in this entire world?” 

“I had a feeling,” Theo teased. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, preparing a sarcastic response, but you stopped short when he leaned closer. His knuckles brushed against your cheek. “I’d say the same, but it seems like an understatement to call you my favorite person in the world when you are my world.” 

“Teddy…”

“Too cheesy?” he asked with a boyish grin. 

“No, it’s perfect.” You took his face in your hands, cataloging every freckle and mole as though everything about him wasn’t already seared into your mind. “You’re perfect.” 

You didn’t know who moved first. It might’ve been him, it might’ve been you, but at the end of the day, all that mattered was that his lips were on yours. As Theo kissed you, you realized then that you’d never truly known what it meant to hunger, to crave — not truly. Not like this. 

The kiss itself was soft and gentle and sweet, but it was also all-consuming. The pressure of his lips against yours brought you relief. It was the breaking of clouds, the pattering of rain, the downpour after an endless drought. 

Your fingers slipped through his silky locks as Theo tugged you closer, his hands snaking around you in a tight embrace as though he was afraid you might disappear. You wanted to tell him that you weren’t going anywhere. You couldn’t even if you tried, but you were too drunk on him — his scent, his touch, his kisses. 

This, you thought, was exactly what you were made for. 

Theo pulled away, his gaze tender as it flickered over your face. You touched your fingers to your lips, already missing the absence of his kisses. 

“I’ve been waiting for that all my life,” Theo whispered in awe.

“I had a feeling,” you teased back.

“I like when you’re cheeky,” Theo chuckled, burying his face in your neck. He placed a kiss under your jaw. “And I like how soft your skin is.” Another kiss on your cheek. “I like how red and flushed you get when I compliment you.” 

Theo pressed his lips against yours Once, twice, three times. Just because he could. Just because he wanted to savor the taste of your cherry chapstick, to swallow the soft little sigh that escaped your mouth every time he kissed you, to acclimate himself to the new reality of getting to snog his best friend whenever and wherever he wanted. 

“I just really like you.” 

You smiled into the kiss. “I really like you too, Teddy.” 

The confession was the tip of the iceberg of how you felt for him, but it would do for now. As Theo held you in his arms, you listened to the rhythmic pulse echoing in your chest. 

Your heart thumped to the beat of his name. Theo, Theo, Theo. 

It always had and it always will.

[buckys-wintersoldier]

His forever and ever

// Chapter Five //

// Pairing //

→ (Ex-)Boyfriend!Mob!Bucky Barnes x (Ex-)Girlfriend!Reader

// Summary //

→ Bucky does everything to show you what you really mean to him - also being stuck in a swing as long as you laugh. Plus rooftops are still the best place to make confessions.

// Wordcount //

→ 4.646 Words

// Warnings // Teen

→ fluff, feeling, a lot of love, hint of angst, Bucky being scared by Steve, love confession

// Authors Note //

→ The biggest thank you to the amazing @bucks-babe for proofreading, coming up with more details.

// Events //

-> Fandom-Free Edition: Wild Edition | I5 | ‘Tell me something sweet to get me by’ | @fandom-free-bingo

-> Multifandom-Flash Bingo: March | B5 | Compliment Backfire | @multifandom-flash

// Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist //

// Series Masterlist //

<- Chapter Four

     The evening you and Bucky ended up in a dark alley and then in the restaurant was a few weeks ago now. You didn’t make it that easy for Bucky to get close to you again but he never relented, making sure he proves that he really means what he promised.

     When the two of you finished your food that day, he asked you to drive you home but he also made sure that you know that he won’t accept a no. Not because he wants to pressure you, just because he loves to protect you. And you would have said yes anyway, it was cold, rainy and having a drive in Bucky’s car with him is just so much fun.

     “Doll, you— come one. No,” Bucky laughs, trying to push your hands away from the radio but one glare of you and he lifts his hand in defense. “Got it, you’re the one who can decide which music we play, in MY car.”

     With a proud smirk you tap a few bottoms and surprisingly — or not really because he is still so in love with you — your favorite playlist is still on top. You tap it and turn the volume higher.

    “I love that song!” You shout, singing along with it, while Bucky drives a longer way to your home. He hasn’t heard your voice in a while and especially not so happy, or singing. He could listen to you all day, all night and he would never get tired of it.

     He brought you home, asked you if you would be interested to go out with him the other day and since it was your day off you agreed. Bucky told you it’s a secret where you're going. It was a long walk through the park, around the small lake and then he surprised you with a picnic.

     And after that he made sure that you knew when he was working or busy with meetings but he also told you to just call him in case you need something, company or “just your favorite man to save your pretty ass from weirdos”.

     And then there was the day where you knew that he was in a meeting, but it was rainy and already turning dark. You had just ended your shift in the bar and you were on your way home when someone was following you.

     Without thinking twice you remember Bucky’s words. ‘Call me when you need me. I told you you’re my priority and I will show you, nothing is more important than you for me, dragǎ mea.’

     So you pull your phone out of your pocket and tap Bucky's contact. Actually you would giggle about your background, which shows Bucky hanging in a swing, you’re not sure how he managed to get stuck in it but he did and you couldn’t help and took a photo which is now your background. But since you’re scared because the man behind you follows you the whole time you immediately look for Bucky’s contact and call him.

     It doesn't take  long for Bucky to pick up. “Hey, dragǎ mea, are you alright?” His voice is worried and you can hear him shifting in his seat when you don’t answer immediately.

     “Bucky, I’m so sorry, I—I know you’re busy,” you say, voice shaking. Tears build up in your eyes and you need a moment to calm yourself down, inhaling deeply.

     “Breathe, doll,” he mumbles. Then you hear him saying something to the men in his office before he leaves the room. “So what’s wrong?”

     “Could you— someone is following me and I— Bucky can you pick me up please? I’ll walk back to the bar right now,” you explain, hoping he will say yes and he does, assuring you to be there in less than ten minutes to pick you up from the bar.

     And Bucky did exactly what he said, picking you up a few minutes later at the bar. The man who followed you changed immediately the direction he was walking in, his eyes widened when he saw Bucky wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you to his car.

     Bucky’s presence makes you feel safe and you feel comfortable around him, knowing that he loves you the way you are and that you don’t have to be someone else for him. He compliments you everytime, loving the way your cheeks heat up and you avoid his intense stare.

     “You look breathtaking like always, dragǎ mea,” Bucky says, a soft smile crossing his lips when his eyes roam up and down your body.

     He had asked you to go out with him, letting you decide which restaurant you want to go to. But just before you decided you told him to look for a dress, but there was none you liked in your wardrobe so Bucky used that opportunity to spoil you. He picked you up at home, told you you’re going shopping now and even though he knows that you can buy things on your own he will pay the bill for you.

     So you’re just changing into the dress you loved the most, walking out of the changing room and presenting it to Bucky. His mouth drops open, then he smirks and nods at you.

     “Breathtaking, doll. Do you like it because I absolutely love it, it’s fitting perfectly to you,” Bucky says, getting off the bench he is sitting on and making his way closer to you. “Do you want that or do you want to look for another dress?”

     You love that man, not just because he is spoiling you but also because you could go shopping with him for hours and he wouldn’t get bored — or he wouldn’t show you. Plus he compliments you so much but also tells you what he really thinks about the clothes you’re trying and you’re grateful that you two have the same taste in things.

     “This one is perfect, but it’s expensive, I should pay for it myself. We’re not meeting so you have to pay everything for me, Buck,” you say, Bucky’s hands grasping yours and causing you to look up and into his ocean blue eyes.

     “Can you twirl around for me?” He asks, lifting your hand and you twirl, giggling softly. Bucky admires the way the flying fabric is revealing your soft skin. When you stop twirling around you look back into his eyes. “I know you can pay for your bills, dragǎ mea. So if you want to, you can pay for that dress by yourself, because I don’t want to give you the feeling I want to buy you. But I love spoiling you, so I would love to pay for the dress and take you out on the planned date after.”

     The two of you had a lot of dates since the day Bucky asked you to get a second chance. And he never upset or disappointed you. Whenever you call him, he is there, showing you that his work doesn’t mean as much as you do for him.

     He doesn’t care that he is in the middle of the meeting — you need attention? You get his attention. Bucky has seen the world without you which is nothing he wants to experience once again.

     With you his world is bright, full of smiles and joy, happiness and love. But without you by his side it was not even close to that. His world turned dark the day you left the mansion, his smile faded away, his nights were sleepless and the joy and happiness wasn’t there anymore. Someone tried to make a joke? He glared at them with an annoyed  expression, his heart aching, his soul broken and the only person who was able to heal his wounds was you.

     You’re still the only person who can do this, but since he could maybe get another chance, his world lights up slowly. With you everything looks so easy, he feels like he can reach every goal as long as he as you by his side. And yes it needed a while for him to recognise that, but when he did — when his world crashed down on him — he knew one thing — getting you back is everything he needs, everything he craves. Because Bucky craves  you, adores you, loves you and he would do everything for you just to keep you close to him and see you smile at him — especially that soft smile you reserve for him.

     But then there was Steve, you have never seen Bucky that afraid — unless you were mad at him and didn’t accept make up sex. But when you asked Bucky to come to your shared apartment to tell Steve that you go on dates with Bucky, his eyes widened and he shook his head immediately.

     “I— You know I would do a lot for you, but I can’t come with you there and meet Steve. I’ve only met him once and that was before we broke up and all that,” Bucky explains, shaking his head wildly.

     “He won’t hurt you, Buck. And in case we will be together again you will see him too, so please?” You pout softly, trying your best puppy look until Bucky agrees with a sigh.

     He has never felt that scared around someone but when he walks into the apartment behind you, his body tenses and he wants to turn around and convince you to do something more fun. Bucky shakes his head, inhaling deeply and goeing you into the living room where two men are sitting.

     “Stevieeee! Look who I picked up,” you say with a giggle. Tony is looking at you first, his eyes widen when he realizes who your ex-boyfriend is.

     “WOAH!” Tony shouts, his eyes scanning Bucky up and down, then he smirks when he sees the big mobster shifting from one foot to the other. “He doesn’t look like a mobster. He looks pretty cute.”

     “Shortstack! Don’t look at another man like that,” Steve complains, slowly turning around. The moment you walked with Bucky into your shared apartment he knew you would bring your other half. Steve had that feeling boiling in his stomach and he was right, but when he turns around and sees the big broad man looking so small he can’t help but smile softly. “Hey, James.”

     The soft voice of your best friend surprises Bucky and he smiles helplessly. He nods toward the other men, then he turns his face to you and blushes softly.

     “Come on, big boy, don’t be shy now,” you tease him, earning a glare that makes you laugh even more. “Say hey and take a seat, they won’t bite. Although, I’m not sure, Stevie has some bite marks one or another day.”

     Now it's Tony who blushes and tries to hide himself behind his boyfriend. You pull Bucky with you toward the couch, pushing him down before you take a seat next to him. Both of you sit opposite Steve and Tony and you feel Bucky tensing when Steve stares at him.

     “Stevie, don’t scare him! You can’t scare a sweet little puppy,” you say, earning a chuckle from Steve.

     The four of you talk a while about everything, the men laugh together and you’re glad that Steve isn’t jumping on Bucky and punshing him for being an ass.

     Tony makes his way into the kitchen, showing you to follow because he has something for you. You look at Bucky, who isn’t looking like a lost puppy anymore before you follow the other man. You know that Tony wants to offer you your favorite cookies but it’s also the perfect opportunity for your Bucky and Steve to talk.

     “You know, I will come and cut off your dick when you hurt her once again. I love her, I would protect her from you but as much as I hated you for hurting her, I see her when you’re around. You know, she was nothing but a shadow of herself when she moved in here, it was better after a while but everything reminded her of you. Now, when you’re around she is so much happier, her eyes light up in the most beautiful way and—“ Steve stops himself, giving Bucky a moment to think about his words.

     “I know, I have seen her. I watched my girl until I decided to ask her for forgiveness. I thought she would never forget me, and I would have understood it but without her, I’m nothing and I needed a bit until I noticed but I won’t hurt her again. Steve, she is everything to  me and I know I hurt her, and I won’t forgive myself for a while but I need her and I adore her — I would marry her immediately if I could,” Bucky tells your best friend, causing the blond haired man to smirk before he nods.

     “That’s good! Wouldn’t like to cut off your dick, she said you’re good in bed,” Steve laughs, winking at Bucky.

     Bucky’s eyes widen, he blushes and rubs his hands over his thick thighs. “She told you about our sex life?”

     Steve nods, but before he can answer you’re walking back into the room with Tony, smirking at Bucky with a mischievous grin. “He is my best friend, of course he knows about things in bed, Buck. I also know stories in bed about these two here.”

     You’re  glad that Bucky, Steve and Tony became friends, so you were able to bring Bucky to your shared apartment or you could go out together. But more than that you love the time when you’re just with Bucky — when he shows you all his love and affection for you. There are a lot of things Bucky did for you, showing you that he really changed, that he has seen the darkness without you. He runs his business with Sam now, so he has a lot of time for you, and he uses that time especially when it gives him the opportunity to get you back.

     Bucky invited you to your favorite restaurant today and there you are right now, but not in the building because you’re still waiting for him outside. It’s warm but it slowly turns dark outside and you wonder if he put his work first again, or if he is tired of waiting for you to trust him again. But just before you want to call him or decide to go with him, he appears, walking out of the restaurant with a soft smile on his pretty lips.

     “Sorry that you had to wait but I promise it was worth it,” he assures you, holding his hand out to take yours. You place your smaller hand in his, sighing softly when his fingers curl around yours and he pulls you closer against him. “You look beautiful, did you have a good ride?”

     You nod, exactly knowing that Bucky knows who brought you there because it was one of his men who picked you up at your apartment and drove you to the restaurant. “It was nice, he had a good playlist and the seat had a heating so it was perfect.”

     Bucky chuckles, then he grasps into his back pocket and holds something in front of you. You tilt your head slightly to the side, narrowing your eyebrows until you notice what he was holding in his hand.

     “Kinky boy,” you chuckle, raising an eyebrow when you look into his ocean blue eyes. Bucky shirts, a smug grin on his lips when he lets go of your hand and takes the blindfold he is holding, in both of his hands to help you take it on. You chuckle when you feel his big, warm hands sliding over your skin and softly through your hair, Bucky smirks at you, leaning closer to place it right, his warm breath hitting your face and you shiver lightly.

     “So, I promise I won't let you run into something, just trust me, oke?” Bucky asks, kissing your cheek softly before he places his one hand on your waist and walks around you, standing behind you. He then pulls you flush against him, his broad chest pressed against your back and you feel the goosebumps erupting all over your skin with him being so close to you, both of his hands on your waist, holding you close while he waits for an answer from you.

     “Like you told me you would come out of the swing without problems?” You chuckle, leaning your head back to rest it against his shoulder while you sigh softly. His warmth and soft touches are feeling just so good.

     “That's not the point, dragǎ mea. And I came out of it without destroying it, I just fell forward and lied there like a– what do you call it?”

     “Whale, Buck,” you giggle, feeling his hot breath on the skin of your neck when he laughs softly. Bucky tried to convince you to never mention the swing accident ever again but you just can't stop it, and especially not when you see your background, it was just too funny. He definitely looked like a whale, maybe a muscular whale but he just fell forward and his legs were still stuck so, even though Bucky wouldn't confess it but he thinks the same way as you about the evening.

     “But I'm the prettiest whale you have ever seen,” he grumbles, pressing one of your legs forward with his so you take a step forward, then another.

     “You’re the only whale I have ever seen in real life until now. But yes, you’re the prettiest, Buck,” you mumble, letting him lead you into the restaurant. You immediately inhale the sweet scent of the food, but Bucky leads you further through the room. The voices around you are almost completely ignored from you with Bucky's thick arms wrapped around your waist, his broad chest pressing against your back and his legs pressing yours forward.

     “Then we should definitely show you a whale, how about a boat trip?” Bucky asks, and causes you to chuckle. He then nods toward a man who opens another door for the two of you. The noises from the restaurant are quiet when the door shut close behind you, causing you to flinch. The mobsters hands move up and down your sides, calming you down. “There are stairs in front of us now, twelve.”

     Together with Bucky you count the stairs, stepping slowly up while he follows you, his hands never leaving your waist. When you’re finally up you sigh softly, inhaling the cool air of the night and you wonder where you are. Before you can ask, you're pushed further forward, then Bucky stops and walks around you, taking a step back. You hear him picking something up and a soft chuckle leaves his lips when you turn your head toward the noise.

     “You can take it off now, dragǎ mea,” he says softly, waiting for you to take off the blindfold to face him. When you do so, your mouth drops open, Bucky is standing just a few steps away from you, a big basket of roses in his hands and he smiles softly, his blue eyes focused on you, and you stare from the flowers to him and then to the table behind him. There are more roses, candles and it just looks so romantic and perfect that you feel your heart beating faster and a tingling inside of your stomach.

     Bucky and you are on the roof of the restaurant, the lights of the city light up the night but you're still able to see the moon and the stars when you look up. You know Bucky is good with locations for a date but you didn’t thought that for the date right now. “For my best girl just the best, doll.”

     “Bucky! That looks wonderful, I-I don’t have words,” you say, blushing softly while walking closer to him. Your hands softly wrapped around his waist and you pull him closer, he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pushing you closer and taking care that he doesn't squeeze the roses in his hands. “Thank you.”

    The mobster ordered a full menu for the two of you, ignoring that you won't be able to eat everything , but he just wanted to make it perfect and give you the opportunity to eat whatever you want and as much of it as you want. The talks are funny and light and even though you never thought Bucky would change himself for you, and be the way he was – focused on his work – after a few days, he showed you that he means what he said and that you're his priority.

     “And, do you think you can forgive me and give me another chance?” Bucky asks, getting off the chair and walking around the table. He reaches his hand out for you to place yours in his. When you do so, Bucky pulls you softly up and against his chest, he then lifts you by your hips and walks to the edge of the roof.

     He places you in front of him, turning you toward the city before he pulls you close and places his chin on your shoulder, his big, veiny hands around your waist to pull you as close as possible. “When I look over the city everything I think about is you. This is ours, our city our home – I thought that's the most important, that I needed to have all of that to have you. But it's not true, there is more than all the materials on this world that matter, and most important in my life is you, dragǎ mea,” he says, quietly. His blue eyes roaming over the roofs of the houses in front of you. You smile softly, sliding your hands down to place them on top of his, then you let your head fall backwards against his shoulder.

     “I think I can, but there is one more condition,” you say with a mischievous grin across your lips. You giggle softly when Bucky groans playfully against your neck, his lips trailing softly over your soft skin, causing you to sigh softly and tilt your head to the side to give him more space.

     “What's the condition? No sex for a year? I can handle that as long as I have you,” he says, biting softly into your neck. You shake your head, causing him to furrow and look at you until you tell him the condition.

     “You’re so needy, Buck, you can't be a year without sex, and I can’t either.”

     “You're right but just because you're so sweet and sexy. Can't help myself, doll. But what's the condition then? I can make you a whole bunch of mini James’,” Bucky suggests, making you laugh.

     “Doesn't sound bad, but let's talk about that later. I want you to tell the world that you love me,” you say, feeling him chuckle against your soft skin. He loves when you're bossy. And even though everyone around will find out that the mobsters biggest weakness is his girl, he will gladly do it. He nods, kissing your neck once again before he leans back to stand straight, his arms still wrapped around you.

     “Everything for you, dragǎ mea,” he says, inhaling deeply before he smirks widely, ready to shout it into the world, that he is a sofite for you.

     “Who thought the day where the mobster shows his real side would come already. I didn't but here I am, standing on the roof, my girl in my arms and everything I feel is love and affection. I messed up, thought my business would make her stay, that I had to give her the city, the country, the world to make her love me but as always — my future wife, the love of my life showed me once again, that there is more than that. I thought I would lose her because I was too much of the person I never wanted to be, cold and arrogante,” Bucky shouts, some of the people standing in the streets, looking up where the two of you are standing. “But nothing could ever fill the hole she would leave when she would leave me. I found love in the most adorable and wonderful girl I have ever met and I would do everything for her. So world, this is my love confession to my girl. Y/N – almost Barnes –this is the promise, in front of everyone who hears that, from me to you. I will love you forever and ever, and I will protect you with everything I have. You’re everything for me and I will never miss you like I did again.”

     You turn toward Bucky, looking up at him with tears in the corner of your eyes. He was always good at being romantic and lovely but this is just more than you have ever hoped for. He drops his face, looking at you, his hands immediately find its place on your cheeks, his thumbs running over your cheeks to wipe the tears away. Bucky smiles softly, leaning closer until there are only inches between the two of you.

     The two of you haven't kissed since you’re dating again, you wanted to be sure he really meant what he said and he wanted to wait for the right moment — which is right now.

     Bucky waits for you to break the distance between your lips and you do. The moment your lips touches everything around you is suddenly so far away, the only thing that matters are the two of you for one another. His lips are so perfect soft and warm against yours, he moves them softly, causing you to moan softly, desperate for more. Neither of you cares about the people cheering in the streets, laughing and clapping in their hands — for you it’s only Bucky who is important right now, and you’re everything that’s important for him.

     “Can you do me a favor too, dragǎ mea?” He asks when you pull away, his forehead resting against yours and his breath is heavy. You nod, looking into his ocean blue eyes which glistening with so much love and affection — just for you. “You asked me to tell the world that I love you, how about you do the same?”

     Bucky knows that you won’t shout it out loud, he knows that’s what you meant when you asked him to do that but it’s not what he is asking for right now. He smirks when you nod again, standing on your tiptoes and leaning closer to his ear.

     “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,” you mumble, causing a shiver to run down his spine. “You’re everything for me and I will give you another chance. I love you more than everything and I know that you meant whispering that into your ear when you asked me to do the same like you did. And yes, you were my world, you are my world and you will forever be my world. I’m yours Bucky, forever and ever.”

     He smirks, when you lean back he immediately presses his lips against yours once again. The kiss is passionate but still soft, filled with so much love and adoration, that you could melt in his arms.

     “Mine, forever and ever. I love you too, and I will make it better this time! I will keep my promises, I will be the man I always wanted to be for you, thank you. You’re everything, doll. Could we continue to kiss you all night, or how about we go home and continue kissing there? Maybe with a bit more action?” Bucky asks, grinning mischievously. You nod, cravingving him just as much as he craves you.

-> Chapter Six

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[museaway]

As requested, here's how I trained myself to wash the dishes pretty much daily.

Dishes and laundry have always felt insurmountable to me. It's probably because they never end. I live alone and I don't have a dishwasher, so I have to do the dishes whether I like it or not. I would much, much rather watch YouTube than do chores, so here's how I get around that.

(It's long so I'll put it behind a cut.)

Disclaimer: What works for me might not work for you. We all have different lives and situations. Take what works for you and leave the rest.

--

Solution #1: Make it low commitment

Sometimes I look at the sink and think, "I have to wash all of these?? It's going to take FOREVER. I'll do it tomorrow."

On those days, I challenge myself to wash dishes for the length of one song. It doesn't matter how many dishes I wash, just that I wash them for as long as the song plays!

Sometimes the song will finish and I'll feel up to washing for just one more. Usually, I end up listening to three or four and clean the whole sink. But if the song ends and I want to go do something else, I'm allowed to.

Try working up to multiple times a day.

Make a playlist with songs that make you feel energized! I use anime OPs because they're loud and fun to sing to.

Be gentle with yourself. If you washed one cup, that's great! That's a clean cup! That's one more clean cup than you had one song ago.

You're taking care of yourself by doing this. Really, it's a great kindness you're doing yourself and your family by cleaning something! You deserve to be taken care of!

This method also works with putting away folded laundry. If you don't want to use music, set a timer. Work for 3 minutes and stop.

--

Solution #2: Gamify it

When I have a little more energy, the goal changes:

"Can I clear the sink before this song ends?"

"Can I wash all of these within three songs?"

"Can I wash this cup before the chorus?"

This technique really motivates me. I tend to focus and work efficiently since I'm trying to beat the song. If I don't make it, I usually give myself another song or two. It's rare that I stop until the sink is clear.

Whether you beat the song or not, you've washed a bunch of stuff, so you win either way!

This technique also works for putting sheets on the bed, dusting, taking the trash out ("can I get back before the song stops??"), etc. Timers can replace music here too.

--

Solution #3: Use a habit tracker

The above solutions got me to stop leaving dishes in the sink for three days, but I was still leaving them overnight. To train myself to wash the dishes every single day, I made it a nightly chore for a solid month.

I used a habit tracker so that I got to check it off every day! I love checklists, so this was terribly satisfying.

I've tried a slew of habit trackers and hate all of them except for this one by TheFor. It's simple, has color coding, supports habit-based goals (like dish washing 7 days a week, or sweeping the deck once a week), and displays an overview so that you can check if you missed any days! Free on the Apple and Play stores. This isn't sponsored; I'm just a fan.

It took a month for my new habit to form, but it did! I'll now go wash the dishes when I see them in the sink, although I still use the first two solutions to keep it from feeling like a chore again.

--

Hand-washing tips:

Dish gloves will save your hands! Get a pair you like

I like a wooden dish brush with a replaceable head

I think it helps to like the scent of your dish soap

Get big, easy-to-clean things out of the way first. They take up a huge amount of room in the sink and make the situation look worse than it really is. Think colanders, cookie sheets, the pot you only boiled water in.

Wash things in categories. For example, I like to wash all of the mugs at once. It seems to go faster that way.

Leave the hardest-to-clean stuff for last so it can soak.

Paring down my mug collection sincerely helped the mug overload. Maybe put spares in a drawer for a while.

Sing while you work

--

Here's my dish washing playlist

[nolita-fairytale]

call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter one

summary: phoenix has always wanted to set up her two best friends in the navy -- ones that have, for whatever reason, still never crossed paths. that's all about to change when you get called back to TOPGUN for a special mission.

warnings: enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of death, strong possibility of military inaccuracies, second person pov, no use of y/n,

wc: 4.2k

a/n: not me having the audacity to take a crack at a top gun: maverick fic. this is what happens when i watch tgm 7x in one week. a fic is born. and in my defense, this cast has so much damn chemistry how could i not?! this is a oneshot idea that turned into a series that's turned into a series and a sequel? oops. 10/10 recommend listening to the song tennessee whiskey by chris stapleton.

masterlist | the playlist | chapter two

She’s shocked but she knows better than to be surprised.

At least that’s what Phoenix reminds herself as she watches the heated interaction between Rooster and Hangman at the pool table. It can’t have been more than five minutes since Rooster’s arrival for the two of them to get into it. And the way he looked at her just a moment ago? With his smug, annoyingly handsome, overconfident face right before taking another dig at Rooster?

She hates it. 

And she hates that it made her feel something. 

She can’t put her finger on it: disgust, unadulterated rage, whatever the hell else would make you want to kiss and kill someone at the same time.

She exchanges unamused glances with Rooster once again, shaking her head in the beyond cocky fighter pilot. 

“Well, he sure hasn’t changed,” she scoffs, watching as Hangman makes his way back to the jukebox to select another song. 

“Nope. Sure hasn’t,” Rooster agrees with dismay. 

“Check it out. More badges,” Payback says, turning his attention to the way of the new arrivals. “That’s Harvard, Yale, Omaha… shit that’s Fritz.”

“What kind of mission is this?” Fanboy asks, taking note as the best of the best continue to arrive at the Hard Deck tonight.

As Phoenix asks the question everyone is wondering – who the hell the US Navy plans to teach the top 1% of fighter pilots – she notices Rooster’s disappeared from the conversation around the pool table. It doesn’t take long before someone’s cut the power to the jukebox causing a collective groan to ring out within the four walls of the Hard Deck. 

A smile creeps across Phoenix’s face as she knows exactly where Rooster’s gone. The sound of a few riffs on the piano being played catch her attention, and she excuses herself from the pool table. She joins her good friend she met at flight school, in all of his Hawaiin shirt-clad glory. 

“You missed me, Trace?” Rooster says, stealing a glance from the side of his old friend. 

“Not even a little bit,” she teases him in return. 

But Rooster understands. 

What she means is ‘yes I have,’ and ‘you could’ve called.’

The commotion of Maverick being thrown out of the bar interrupts their brief reunion, and while Phoenix watches, Rooster occupies himself with the task at hand. His large aviators that cover his eyes make it easier to ignore the fact that the closest thing he’d ever had to a father figure had been called back to North Island too. His long fingers run over the keys of the barely-in-tune piano of the Hard Deck, unwilling to acknowledge the presence of the man. Instead, he charges forward, noticing how easy it is to slip into the familiar rhythm of being back at TOPGUN. 

Outside of the bar, Jake’s having a little too much fun throwing the old aviator overboard with Payback and Coyote. As he heads back inside, he doesn’t join Payback and Fanboy at the piano with the rest of them, instead choosing to head to the bar for another round of beers. He leans back against the bar, watching as the whole bar seems wrapped in singing along to Rooster’s personal anthem. Hangman takes another swig of his beer amused by the sight. 

He’s not sure why he’s so hesitant to join in on the fun but he doesn’t move – can’t let Rooster have this one. Hangman lets his gaze linger on Phoenix from a distance as she dances (in his opinion) a little too closely for his liking to Rooster. 

He’ll never admit it, but he’s always been entranced by the woman he met at TOPGUN all those years ago at his graduation. She was a part of the incoming class, the one right behind his, and he’s not sure how, in the same damn khaki uniform as everyone else, she’s always looked this good. 

Her eyes light up as someone or something across the room catches her attention, and she’s practically jumping up, sprinting across the Hard Deck and into the arms of another naval aviator. 

And for the first time tonight, a genuine smile spreads across his lips. 

He wondered when you’d show.

As soon as he got the call, you’d texted him immediately asking if he’d gotten the same request for this mysterious special op. Earlier, when he’d watched Harvard and Yale roll in with Halo, your WSO he knew your arrival was almost moments away. But you’d never been the most punctual when it came to your personal life, so he wasn’t surprised that you were running behind. Jake chuckles to himself thinking about all the trouble you used to get into at the academy for not being on time. Almost got you kicked out a few times too, if he recalls correctly. 

It'd been too long since he’d seen you last, now that you were stationed at Lemoore. He loved teasing you about what a Californian you’d turned into, now that you’d been out of Texas. 

“Gonna start callin’ you Phoenix if you spend any more time in California, kid,” he’d teased you during your last phone call, referencing the LA native you both admired. 

But Jake’s almost forgotten about how close you are with Natasha – the three of you always circling around each other, never quite in the same place at the same time. He’s definitely forgotten (or at least tried to) the time you called him a lovesick idiot after he wouldn’t shut up about a certain fighter pilot he’d met during a certain deployment. 

What could he say? 

His first deployment with Phoenix had left… quite the impression on him… and you knew him well enough to call him out on it. 

Of course, Phoenix had wanted nothing to do with him at the time. His usual tricks – that Southern Charm and perfectly symmetrical face – only seemed to repulse her even more and he had to admit that it made him like her even more. 

“Whiskey!” she practically shouts, as Jake watches the two of you embrace. 

“Sorry I’m late. I would’ve come earlier if I knew there was a singalong,” you smirk, taking in the sigh of the more than jovial crowd huddled around the piano. “But once I hit LA traffic. Shit. That’s what I get for leaving for wanting to take my own damn car.”

“Oh I think he’s just getting started,” she replies, nodding towards Rooster. 

Before you can say anything else, before you can take a good look at the man behind the piano, Hangman’s cut your reunion-for-two short. 

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he croons, his Texas drawl prominent in the way he says each word. 

“Hangman, you son of a bitch!” you squeal, meaning the last part in the most endearing way possible. 

“Hey, kid,” he greets you with the biggest smile you’ve seen all day. 

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, jumping into his arms. Jake picks you up, spinning you around before setting you back down on the ground as you laugh. Your public display of affection earns a few looks your way, and Phoenix pretends to vomit on the floor in response. 

You laugh again, “You think I’d get a free pass after putting up with this one for over ten years.”

“This… is something I’ll never understand,” Natasha replies, gesturing towards the space between the two of you.

“You jealous, Phoenix?” Hangman asks, a confidence behind his words.

Nat sends a snarky look his way before answering, dryly:

“Only in your dreams, Bagman.”

“You’re right about that,” he flirts shamelessly, giving her a wink. 

“Oh gross!” you say with an eye roll. You playfully punch Jake in the chest, pushing him away from you and Natasha. 

“Get your own friend. Besides, Nat and I have some catching up to do and I’m in need of a drink,” you continue, earning a groan from Jake. 

“What? I can’t watch?” he smirks, earning another fake vomit from Phoenix. 

“No, Bagman,” you tease, using the callsign you know Nat loves to demean him with. “We’re gonna talk shit about you.”

He shoots you a look, shaking his head at your snarky remark. He knows it’s out of love – at least from you. He concedes, tipping his beer towards you as a form of ‘cheers’ before taking a few steps away. 

You and Nat exchange a laugh, before linking arms and heading towards the bar.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with him for more than five minutes,” she remarks, searching for an available bartender. 

“He’s not all that bad once you get past all the bullshit. And there’s a lot of it,” you reply honestly. 

“No thanks,” Phoenix dismisses, before flagging down Penny.

You watch as she orders the two of you a round of beers and you can’t help but find it funny how quick she was to dismiss Jake. It’s true: you’ve always thought the two of them were more alike than they were different. Sure, Jake made questionable decisions on the daily. But even after all of these years, he still had more heart than anyone you’d met this side of the Mississippi. 

“How was your trip?” you ask Phoenix, making small talk to start. 

“It was alright. Came in a few days earlier to see some family in LA first,” she answers with a shrug. 

“How’s your mom?” you ask, curiously. 

And Phoenix answers, filling you in that her mom is doing much better than the last time you talked, and her brother and his wife are moving back to LA. You tell her that you’re finally getting used to California, while the two of you wonder about this top secret, special mission that you’ve all been called back to TOPGUN for. 

“Oh! Speaking of the best of the best. Uh… my best friend is here,” she starts with a smile on her face. 

“Excuse me. I thought… I was your best friend… at least in the Navy,” you tease her. 

She rolls her eyes playfully, “No, I mean. Rooster. I’ve actually been wanting to introduce the two of you for years...”

Phoenix gestures towards the man behind the piano still going at it, and you move over to get a good look at him. He’s hot. You’ll give her that. And you’re not usually into the whole mustache thing but it somehow seems to make him even more attractive. His oversized aviators are hanging off his face as he pounds away at the keys of the piano and you can’t imagine what grown adult man would wear Hawaiin shirts by choice. 

And yet, everything about him you’d normally find cringe-worthy in a man, he seems to pull off.  

He knows it too. 

There’s a group of girls gathered around the piano that are gossiping as they watch him riff on another instrumental song. 

And boy is he eating it up: the attention, the praise, he knows he has the ears of everyone at the Hard Deck tonight. 

“The piano player. From flight school?” you question, curiously, as you begin to connect the dots. 

“Yeah!” she answers, her eyes lighting up at your immediate recognition. “Yeah that’s where we met. Reminds me of you, actually. Just the way we both clicked instantly… and you’ve both become life-long friends.”

You think back to your first deployment as a naval aviator. You and Phoenix were sent on a mission in Sarajevo and had become fast friends. At first, you wondered if you grew so close so quickly because you were the only women on that deployment, but you’d discovered over the years that your friendship with Nat was unique. While you’d usually expect a fast friendship to fizzle out, your relationship with Nat had only grown stronger over the years. 

“Hm,” you sound in response, giving Rooster another lookover. 

Nat’s other best friend. 

Sure. 

Nat’s hot other best friend. 

“What’s with the porn ‘stache?” you ask, playfully. 

She chuckles, “Long story for a different time.”

“C’mon! I’ll introduce you to everyone else,” Phoenix encourages you, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you over to the pool table with her. 

“Gentleman,” she says cooly, greeting the uniform-clad men that surround the pool table. 

“This is Whiskey,” she announces, introducing you. “Top of her class at TOPGUN and the only person on the planet that can get me to drink the worm at the bottom of a bottle of tequila.”

“Yo, I’ve heard about you,” Payback says, immediately recognizing your callsign. 

“I could say the same about you, Payback,” you reply, and he’s surprised to see you already know his callsign. “Coyote, ‘s always a pleasure.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods to you. 

“Wait. You two already know each other?” Payback asks, looking from you to Coyote. 

“Texas,” you both answer at the same time, exchanging a smile.

“Us Texans gotta stick together. Especially at the top,” Coyote clarifies.

“I’m Fanboy. And this here is Harvard and Bob,” Fanboy says, finishing his introduction of at least the aviators engaged in the game at the time. 

“It’s nice to meet you two,” you reply, looking from Fanboy to Harvard. 

You notice that it seems like Rooster’s little performance has ended and the jukebox has been plugged back in. It doesn’t surprise you that Hangman’s slipped out, probably to cue up his own personal soundtrack for the night. Bob is busy lining up his pool cue, but you already know him from Lemoore. He and Fanboy continue their game, and you wonder where Halo snuck off to. 

Bob shoots his shot, missing miserably with a sigh as the rest of the aviators cry out in supportive disappointment for him.

“Bob, ya really can’t do better than that, huh?” you hear the Southern drawl of Jake heading your way. 

You and Phoenix exchange a look, knowing just how much Jake is going to enjoy picking on the little guy.  

“Let me show you how it’s really done,” Jake smirks, snatching the pool cue out of Fanboy’s hands as he struts towards the pool table. 

You decide that someone needs to humble him, and you know just how you’re going to do it. 

“Easy there, Seresin,” you say, intercepting his gait. You stand your ground, right between him and the pool table, blocking his way. 

Jake stops in his tracks, as you stand toe to toe with him, barely inches apart from each other in a battle of the egos. Coyote lets out a whistle and you can hear Phoenix and Bob snickering in the corner as they watch on. 

“You see, I can’t let you do that because… it’s my turn, actually,” you challenge him, a rebellious look on your face. “So you’re just going to have to wait for yours.”

“Damn. You gonna let her talk to you like that, Hangman?” Coyote whistles, always amused by how willing you are to throw yourself in front of the moving bus that is Jake Seresin. 

“Don’t let her fool you. Whiskey’s always been sweet on me. Ain't that right, kid?” he coos, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“HA!” you hear Nat laugh loudly, as you raise your eyebrows up at Jake.

You don’t dare break eye contact. There’s no way in hell he’s winning this one. 

He shoots you a look that says, ‘you really want to do this right now?’ and you shoot him a look that says, ‘you’re being a bully.’

“Bullshit. She’s got you by the balls, lieutenant,” Phoenix hollers. 

“And he wouldn’t have it any other way,” you say, winking in her direction. You refocus your attention back on your best friend, pressing your lips together in a thin line “Besides, we all know that Hangman here has a soft spot for women who degrade him.”

You grab the pool cue out of his hand before bringing your opposite hand to tap him twice on the cheek, eliciting another round and whoops and hollers from the group of guys. 

“Ain’t that right, Bagman?” you throw in, parroting his condescending phrase from earlier. 

Jake shakes his head, knowing that you won this one as he watches you move around the pool table to set up your next shot. Bob watches on, impressed with the way you stood up to Hangman like that, especially in defense of himself. 

“If nobody warned you, Bob, the ‘T’ in Texas stands for trouble,” Coyote remarks, nudging Bob as he settles in next to the WSO.

While you’re busy celebrating your win with Bob, Fanboy, and Phoenix, Rooster’s across the room, closing out his tab and grabbing his last beer of the night. He eyes you carefully. He’s never seen someone standup to Hangman like that, nor has he witnessed Hangman take it. He’s heard about you – remembered what Nat’s said over the years: that you were her other best friend, that you were one hell of a pilot, that he should stop making shitty decisions with women and just let her set the two of you up. 

And after what he’s seen tonight? He’s intrigued. 

You’re electric, and he’s impressed. 

What he doesn’t remember is Nat ever mentioning that you knew Hangman – let alone this well. Were you and Hangman a thing? He can see a closeness between the two of you – a kind of intimacy he’s never seen Hangman have with anyone, despite the revolving door of women he seems to keep around whenever they’ve been deployed together. But it doesn’t make sense, because why the hell would Phoenix want to set him up with someone if she were Hangman’s girl?

Rooster makes his way over to the pool table after you and Hangman’s confrontation, his lips pressed to the top of the glass bottle. 

Hangman’s hanging out on the edge of the group, flipping through something on his phone with his right hand and nursing a beer in his left. 

He doesn’t want to sound too interested, but curiosity gets the best of him as he asks, “What was that all about?”

“What?” Jake shoots back, looking up from his smartphone. 

“You and Whiskey…” Rooster says, trying not to sound too desperate for information. 

But Hangman picks up on Rooster’s interest in his best friend immediately. He smirks, knowing that his relationship with you is just another thing he can use to get under Bradshaw’s skin. 

“Spent a little time at the naval academy together, that’s all,” Hangman replies vaguely. When he’s met with silence, Jake knows that he’s got something here. He turns to his rival, scanning for a reaction on Rooster’s face. 

“What? You interested?”

Instead of answering, Rooster just shakes his head, taking another swig of his beer. It doesn’t take long for Natasha to steal Rooster away so that she can introduce the two of you, her eyes glimmering with excitement and the gears turning in her head. 

“Call it a rescue,” she mutters under breath as she drags him away from Hangman’s presence. 

Much to Nat’s disappointment, the introduction isn’t much. Just an exchange of hellos, names and callsigns before Halo comes to find you for a catch up.

The rest of the night goes on, accompanied by Hangman’s pick of tunes, and it’s filled with old friends, catch ups, and a few more rounds of pool. It’s good to be back here. In a way it feels nostalgic, and anyone would be lying if they couldn’t admit that being selected to be a part of this mission was a huge boost for the ego. While it’s cool to have some Lemoore buddies with you, it’s good to see your old friends too – the ones you don’t get to see as often – like Jake. Like Phoenix. These are bonds forged in battle, and people you’d trust with your life. 

It’s not till the end of the night that you realize that you may have had one too many, so you step out for some air. San Diego is perfect almost year round, you think, as you watch the waves crash against each other. 

“You good? I saw you slip out,” you hear a voice say. 

You’re surprised to find Rooster standing behind you, just outside of the entrance of the Hard Deck. You hadn’t gotten much time to meet him, despite Nat’s best efforts. 

“Yeah, I just think I’ve had a little too much to drink. Wanted to get some air,” you reply with a small laugh. “Thanks though. For checking in.”

“Can’t have you gettin’ into any trouble. Nat would kill me,” he says, taking a few steps toward you. 

This time, you fully turn towards him, resting your back against the railing, as he holds out a cup of water. 

“Thought you might want a glass of water too.”

“You’re a good friend. At least that’s what Nat’s said about you,” you say with a smile, taking the glass of water he’s offered you. 

“She said that?” he asks, only a little surprised. 

You nod in response. 

Rooster joins you, standing side by side, his back pressed against the railing, mirroring your body language. 

There’s a long silence between the two of you as you drink your water. After a big night of friends old and new, it’s nice to have a moment of quiet too – the waves being the only sound between the two of you. 

“So… you and Jake?” Rooster asks, interrupting your momentary shared silence. 

“Oh!” you gasp, another laugh following. 

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the question that makes you feel a little warmer as you contemplate how to answer his question. Between your greeting upon arrival and your standoff at the pool table, you can imagine why Rooster would think that. You can’t blame him. The two of you get mistaken as a couple all the time, especially when you’re out and about in your civvies. 

“No, there's-, there’s no me and Jake. I mean. We… met at the naval academy. He was two years ahead of me and kinda took me under his wing when he found out that I was a fellow Texan. We’ve been close friends ever since,” you clarify, trying your best to explain your uncommon friendship with Hangman. 

Rooster scoffs, a blush running across his cheeks as he mutters an unconvinced yet conceding with, “Okay.”

“What? You don’t believe me,” you ask, turning your head to watch his reaction.

“No, it’s not that! I uh… I’ve just… never seen Hangman let anyone talk to him like that. I just… made some assumptions, I guess. Sorry,” he apologizes, almost embarrassed that he asked in the first place. 

“No it’s okay,” you reassure him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder before crossing your arms over your chest. “In your defense, there was one kiss at school back in the day that ended promptly when I laughed him out of my dorm room.”

Rooster laughs, the idea of it completely contradictory to the playboy persona Hangman portrays to the world. 

“Now that’s a story I want to hear,” he smirks. 

You shake your head, “There’s not much to tell. I promise.”

“He always been this much of an ass?” Rooster asks, stealing another glance your way. 

“Oh yeah. And he’s always been this fucking annoying too,” you add playfully. 

He agrees and the two of you exchange glances again. You’re starting to see why Phoenix has raved about him all these years and you’ve barely had a real conversation with him. 

“Then why do you put up with him?” Rooster asks again, this time a little more seriously. He’s not sure why, but he really wants to hear that you don’t have feelings for Jake. 

“Because… there was a time we were both just dumb kids, y'know? Because he may be an annoying, self-centered, overconfident little shit... but he's my annoying, self-centered, overconfident little shit. And I’m stuck with him,” you admit, genuinely. 

Your capacity for empathy leaves an impact on him. He’s going to be thinking about this conversation for a few days. 

“Fair enough.”

“So what’s the story behind your callsign?” he asks, changing the subject. 

You raise an eyebrow, “What’s the story behind yours?” 

Instead of answering, he just shakes his head and you laugh, knowing he’s not going to tell you. You don’t answer either, taking another sip of the water he’s brought out for you. 

*

“Hooooly shit,” Rooster marvels, watching as you pull of an extremely tricky maneuver in your two-seater F/A-18. 

It’s you and Halo paired up with Harvard as your wingman for this round of the dogfight exercise. And while you may be impressive, you’re still no match for Maverick, as he gets you with a killshot just for trying to show off. 

“You got to give it to her. That was smooth,” Fanboy admires as the rest of the aviators watch the exercise from inside the watchtower. 

Jake chuckles in response. You’ve always been full of surprises and he’s always finds it amusing when someone new discovers it. 

“Like Tennessee Whiskey, fellas,” he answers, his Texas drawl a love letter to your shared home state. 

He shakes his head watching you fly before adding:

“Some things never change.”

read: chapter two

*

A/N: HI ITS ME. How're feeling up in this club and why is everyone so hot and have so much sexual tension? Anyways... should I continue this or nah??

[the-authoress-writes]

Wherever You Go Chapter One

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x Aviator!reader (Callsign: Thorn)

Moodboard by @bradshawsbaby

Written for @roosterforme’s Top Gun Rocktober Playlist Fic Challenge

Synopsis: Tom Kazansky made a mistake.

Or rather, a series of mistakes.

He chose to take the assignment as an instructor at TOPGUN.

He fell in love with one of his students.

He broke her heart.

He chose to leave TOPGUN, and redeploy.

Now, he was stuck onboard the USS Nimitz with the woman whose heart he broke, with no way out.

Unbelievably, that’s not the problem.

Problem is, he still loves her.

Series Warnings: Teacher/Student relationship (but you already knew that) with no real age gap, warnings will be updated as the series progresses.

Warnings: Here be cursing, because these are people in the Navy.

I don’t think there’s anything else, though.

Author’s Note: “It’s only going to be a oneshot.”

Yeah, freaking right.

This took forever (become a church musician, they said, it’ll be fun, they said, you’re in charge of the choir for the Advent season and Christmas while the choir director is on medical leave), but I’m fairly happy with how this turned out.

I think.

The impostor syndrome do be impostoring.

Thank you so, so very much to @roosterforme for hosting the Top Gun Rocktober Fic Challenge, and for allowing me to use one of my favorite 80s rock ballads, “The Flame” by Cheap Trick.

Lyrics from the song will be peppered in throughout this series, because it’s too good not to, and the song is the reason this story exists, as it is what birthed the plotline.

A huge thank you and shout out to @thatsrightice, who helped me so much with the hop maneuvers, by researching the F-14 and A-4 high and low for me.

Special thanks also to @valmare, the fact that I am writing Tom Kazansky x reader! fic is all your fault; but thank you so much for dragging me down with you, it’s been an absolute joy!

Previously on “Wherever You Go”…

And as he ate Carole’s heavenly consolation in a cookie, Tom reflected on just how he’d ended up in this position.

Two months ago…

“So, you looking forward to teaching the next generation of stick jocks like us, Ice?” Mav spoke, barely intelligible around the food he had in his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak whatever language that was, because it definitely wasn’t English.” Tom deadpanned, looking up from his forkful of the fairly-decent facsimile of scrambled eggs from the famed Officer’s Mess Hall of NAS Miramar.

Mav rolled his eyes and hastily swallowed his own forkful of eggs. “I said, are you looking forward to teaching the next generation of pilots like us, Ice?”

“Like me?

Yes.

Like you?

No.”

With Slider’s approval, he had taken the instructor assignment after it was offered to him shortly after the Layton, he and Slider wanting a little stability for two or three years—maybe even four—the Layton mission having shaved off what felt like a whole decade from their lifespan.

The fact that he was going to be able to fly and show off—sorry—instruct, was a nice bonus.

And the fact that his wingman, the only other pilot who could hold a candle to him, was also an instructor, was another plus.

They’d kick the asses of the hotshots they were going to teach, no problem.

“Oh, come on, you know I’m the best,” Mav grinned, nearly maniacally.

Tom put his scrambled eggs in his mouth, and made a show of chewing and swallowing, before replying, “Second best,” gesturing with his fork.

“I’m the best and you know it,” Mav practically vibrated.

Tom squinted at his wingman. “How much sugar did you put in your coffee?”

The other pilot froze guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed—hyper Mav was even more of a chaotic gremlin than normal Mav.

The younger man had an incredibly high, almost unnatural, tolerance for sugar, but put enough of it in his system, and you got one Pete Mitchell who could fly without a jet.

Tom had personally seen the other man put what seemed like half a sugar bottle in one cup of coffee. “Why?”

Mav pouted, looking like a child, and not the twenty-four year-old naval aviator he was. “I just wanted to indulge myself a little, Ice, ‘cause, you know, we’re instructors—together—we’re gonna kick ass—it’s gonna be great!”

“I know we’re gonna kick ass, but you’re not going to be able to instruct if you’re vibrating so much they can’t even see you,” Tom chuckled, shaking his head, trying to figure out how he could burn off Mav’s extra energy before they, along with Viper and Jester, had to head to the classroom to greet their new students later that morning.

“I know—but I just wanted something a little sweet as a treat,” Mav murmured, green eyes cast down and glazed with shame, and he got a glimpse of the child his wingman must have been over fifteen years ago.

He softened on the younger pilot, and reached out to ruffle the raven hair with a soft smile. “‘m not mad at you, Mav, it’s okay.”

Mav pulled away with a grimace and a slap at Tom’s hand, before fussing with his dark hair, but the familiar light returned to the other man’s eyes, though with considerably less mania than two minutes ago.

They continued eating, but Tom’s devious side reared its head. “You do know what this means, though, right?”

“Wha’?”

Tom nearly laughed right there.

Mav had half a forkful of eggs balanced on his lower lip.

“You and I are going to go for a little run around the south hangars, to burn off that energy.”

An intense green stare fixed on him, clearly considering. “Okay, fine—I might… might have overdone it a little bit with the sugar packets.”

“A ‘little’, huh?

Good for you, bud, getting more self-aware.”

“Fuck you, Kazansky,” Mav smirked.

“No thanks, not in the mood,” Tom grinned. “Come on, finish up, so we can get a decent shower after our run.”

“You okay there, old man?” came the smug voice not far above his head.

“Two—two years, that’s all you have on me, Mav,” Tom muttered, massaging the ankle and knee of his right leg, stretched out on the bench of the instructor’s locker room, mentally cursing the old injuries he’d sustained there from a bad ejection he and Sli endured during one of their first deployments, on the Constellation, when the arresting gear failed because a new crewman didn’t check the weight on the valve of the wire.

It was why he had to wear a wrap on his knee and ankle whenever he and Slider played volleyball.

Mav continued, “You know I was gonna kick your ass running even if I wasn’t amped up on sugar, right?

Tall people wear out faster—that’s what you get for being freakishly tall.”

Tom frowned. “If I’m freakishly tall, what’s Merlin?”

Long pause.

Smirk.

“No,” Mav accusingly pointed, “I refuse to fall for that—I will not speak ill of my RIO, even though I’m his teacher.”

Tom chuckled.

Merlin had been lucky to be selected for TOPGUN again, though it was with the caveat that he wouldn’t be able to win the trophy in his session, as his pilot was going to be an instructor.

Merls had taken it well in stride, glad to be at TOPGUN, even if it meant he’d only graduate, as a reserve RIO for his session.

“Hey, did you hear?

History’s being made this session—we’re teaching the first female naval aviator selected for TOPGUN,” Tom remarked, once he’d eased the ache in his knee and ankle.

“Yeah, I know—and I know her; hell of a pilot,” Mav nodded. “Hell of a woman too.”

“Oh?” a blond brow rose wryly.

“Yeah, I met her two or so years ago, when the Black Aces chopped in on the Big E.

Callsign’s Thorn.

And don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Mav’s voice was slightly muffled as he dug through his locker for a stick of deodorant. “Like you think I know her… carnally.

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t flirt with any woman with a pulse.”

“Only most,” Tom nodded sagely, a smirk tugging his lips, even though his wingman couldn’t see it.

A finger was flipped in his direction over a shoulder. “Get in your khakis already, Icy-Hot-Man.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fuck you, Mav.”

“No thanks, not in the mood,” Mav threw back, and the shit-eating grin was audible in his voice, which made Tom secretly smile, to know his wingman and brother was happy.

After the two of them managed to get into their khakis in record time, they came up to the building with their classroom right with Jester and Viper, who spotted them and waved off their salutes. “Kazansky, Mitchell.

It’s good to see you both.

You ready.”

It was more statement than question, but despite the stoicism on the Vietnam veteran’s face, Tom could see the pride in his CO’s eyes, and the added glint of paternal pride, when he looked at Mav.

Though it made him sad to see that, reminding him of what he used to have, Tom was glad that the other aviator had a paternal influence in his adult life.

He’d had one before—Mav, on the other hand, hadn’t.

He really missed his Dedushka.

He pushed the thought away in time to see Viper gesture to follow him and Jester inside.

They all slipped their garrison caps off once they were under the fluorescent lights of the building, and the classroom door was in sight after a short walk.

“Alright,” Viper sighed, gaze running across all of them, a smile reminiscent of his callsign on his face, “time to school another batch of hotshots.

Let’s begin.”

The two wingmen exchanged a little grin, before squaring their shoulders and following Jester inside as Viper trailed behind.

“ATTENTION!!” Jester barked, striding to the front, Tom and Mav moving to the right side of the classroom, opposite the TV, following the order like everyone else in the room.

“At ease.”

At this, they all moved to parade rest, Tom and Mav having the luxury of clasping their hands before them, while Jester picked up a clipboard. “I will be calling out the driver and RIO teams.

After I call both your names, make yourselves known.

Lieutenant Solomon Bates, callsign “Warlock”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Kenneth Han, callsign “Shogun”.”

“Present, sir!” an Asian man about Tom’s height, and a tall African-American man enthusiastically chorused.

“Lieutenant Stephen Ruth, callsign “Babe”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Timothy Martin, callsign “Priest”.”

“Here, sir!”

“Lieutenant Edward Arellano, callsign “Belter”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Gabriel Presleigh, callsign “Elvis”.”

“Yes, sir!”

Lieutenant Henry Baker, callsign “Snackbar”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Matthias Novak, callsign “Links”.”

“Sir!”

“Lieutenant Julian Howell, callsign “Ash”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Randall Simmons, callsign “Igor”.”

“Up and ready, sir!”

The pilot, Howell, it was plain to see, had an arrogant, smug look on his face, almost like he felt it was inevitable he’d be at TOPGUN, and Tom sent Mav a sideways glance, which the other man returned.

Any hop with that particular pair was going to be interesting, and it was clear from the look on his wingman’s face, that his immediate dislike of the pilot was shared by Mav.

Tom looked forward to him and Mav educating Howell as to who were the best pilots, in the final hops.

“And finally, Lieutenant __ __, callsign “Thorn”, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Emmett Kinford, callsign “Romeo.””

“Yes, sir!” came a resonant alto and an even, low baritone, the call jarring insofar as it was to hear a woman’s voice mixed with that of a man’s in this room, heretofore the demesne of men.

Both had even expressions on their faces, pilot and RIO gazing straight ahead, while the OCD part of Tom’s mind registered that their khakis were in better form than even his own, ribbons not the slightest bit out of place, with creases you could cut yourself on, and that was saying something.

Her hair was carefully pulled into the regulation tight bun, not a single strand out of place, and her RIO’s dark waves were also the picture of military perfection.

“You may be seated.” Jester said after a beat, casting his gaze shrewdly around the room. “I am Commander Rick Heatherly—callsign Jester.

I am the Executive Officer of Fighter Weapons School, known to all naval aviators as TOPGUN, and your Lead Opposing.

Each one of you have been selected for a very specific reason; to become the best of the best’s best.

Blinds.”

The room went dark as the blinds were shut, and the familiar video began playing, the familiar speech being recited.

Soon, Jester finished his speech, calling for the blinds to be opened.

Light flooded into the room, and Tom fought to look dignified, not squinty, even as the sun assaulted his eyes.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce you to your Junior Instructors, and this school’s Secondary Opposing; Lieutenant Tom Kazansky, callsign “Iceman”, and Lieutenant Pete Mitchell, callsign “Maverick”, last year’s Top Gun, and second place finisher respectively—”

Both he and Mav somehow straightened further, nodding professionally at their class.

“—and finally, our Commanding Officer here at TOPGUN, the very first man to win the Top Gun Trophy; and there is not a finer naval aviator in the world.

Captain Mike Metcalf—callsign “Viper”.”

Viper strode in and told the first class of ‘87 much the same things he did the flyboys of ‘86, and they all turned to get a good look at the Top Gun Trophy, whose newest brass plaque bore the engraving “LT T. Kazansky & LTJG R. Kerner — 1986”.

“You think your names are going to be up there?” Viper gazed speculatively at the class.

However, this time, no one filled the silence with an affirmative response—unlike Mav the year before—though Ash and Igor had hungry and yet self-assured looks in their eyes.

“Well, regardless of whose name ends up in brass at the end of these five weeks, at the end of the day, you—we—are all on the same team.

Gentlemen—and lady,” Viper nodded towards Thorn, “this school is about combat—there are no points for second place.

Dismissed.”

“Report to the quartermaster for your housing assignments, you’ll have today to get settled.” Jester called out to the room at large, “and remember, tomorrow’s first class starts at 0800.”

Most of the class quickly shuffled out of the room, but not before a few of them shot Thorn and Romeo, both of whom were still seated, skeptical—and in Ash and Igor’s case, outright dirty—looks, looks which she ignored, though one would have to be blind not to notice the protective menace emanating from her RIO despite the similar expression of indifference on his features.

But once her classmates had filed out, Thorn looked towards him and Mav, her indifference giving way to a radiant smile.

“Mav,” she exclaimed, striding over.

“Acey!” his wingman laughed, pulling her into a hug, briefly lifting her a slight distance off the floor.

“Fuck, it’s good to see you!”

“You too—it’s been too long.”

“Yeah—” here her expression sobered, “and I’m so sorry—I heard about Nick—Ro and I couldn’t believe it.”

“Nick was a great guy, it was such a shock—damn canopy of all things,” Romeo said, having walked over to give Mav a warm pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” Mav breathed evenly, a bit too evenly for Tom’s liking. “Oh, uh, Thorn, Romeo, this is my f-friend and wingman, Tom Kazansky.”

All too glad to take the spotlight to give Mav time to breathe, he stepped forward, extending his hand. “You can call me Ice, it’s good to meet you.

Mav’s told me about you, Thorn.”

“Oh?

Only good things, I hope,” she said, shaking his hand.

Her hand had the same callouses he and most fighter pilots had—which gave him a bit of cognitive dissonance, because he was used to only feeling those callouses on other men—with a strong grip, and a confident posture as she looked up at him.

“Practically praised you to the stars and back,” he smiled, letting go of her hand.

“Hello, I’m chopped liver,” Romeo wryly stated as he shook Tom’s hand. “Call me Ro.”

“You’re hardly chopped liver, Ro, you’re the sixth best RIO I know,” Mav interjected, his voice and breathing seeming more like baseline.

“Thank you, I guess?” Romeo frowned.

Thorn broke in, “I gotta admit, for a second, I was kind of worried that you’d suddenly become too good for the likes of me and Ro, Mr. TOPGUN-Instructor and Three-Confirmed-Kills, I swear, Mav, that was the stillest I’ve ever seen you.”

The aforementioned man shrugged. “That’s Ice’s influence.

Got to stand still so you hotshots have a chance to admire us.”

Thorn huffed a light-hearted laugh, but Mav continued, “And I only got those kills thanks to this guy.

I had to lead some of the MiGs away so that he could have one all to himself,” Mav beamed, waggling his eyebrows.

Thorn blinked, “Oh yeah, you’ve got one too.”

Before he could reply, Mav proudly cut in, “Yes, he does—and this guy held out against five MiGs.”

“Sli and I’d have burned in if you didn’t get there in time, Mav,” Tom said, determined that his wingman would get the praise he deserved.

Said wingman turned, eyes narrowed hopefully. “Is this you admitting I’m the better pilot?”

He scoffed lightly, “Any pilot would have trouble against five adversaries, the best or not.”

“I’ll get you to admit it one day,” the diminutive pilot muttered.

Tom clapped Mav on the shoulder. “Today is not that day, buddy.”

Another huffed laugh had the two wingmen remembering that their students were still in the room.

Romeo was shaking his head in the way of those who have fondly dealt with the inimitable Pete Mitchell, and Thorn had a small smile on her face, but it was no less bright than the one she had when she greeted Mav. “You look good, Mav.”

“Uhh… thanks?

But I always do.”

Thorn scoffed, and Romeo rolled his eyes so hard, Tom was surprised the RIO didn’t pull something.

She turned to him, a look in her eyes that spoke as if he had passed some test he didn’t know about, turning the tables on him, her instructor, and they weren’t even in the air yet. “You keep taking care of this Firebird for me, huh?”

Something about receiving her unsought approval shot a bolt of feeling through him, searing through his being, like standing in the middle of a lightning storm. “Of course.”

“Good,” she breathed, her small smile turning to a grin. “I guess—I guess Ro and I better go, because I’m sure our classmates got the good housing already.”

“We’ll accompany you to your housing, once you get your assignment—the uh—” he cleared his throat and sniffed, “the housing here is laid out pretty weird.”

Tom could feel Mav’s gaze snap to him at a practically supersonic speed, but he ignored it, in favor of shooting Thorn a charming, if not slightly awkward, smile.

Her head tilted at a slight angle, keen gaze analyzing him like he was some sort of problem she couldn’t quite solve. “If that’s what you want to do with your time, sure thing, sir.”

His brain shut down on him for a split second, for some odd reason, but he managed to evenly reply, “We’re the same rank.”

“That shiny Junior Instructor title of yours begs to differ, but whatever you say… sir.”

A nudge at his side snapped him out of whatever strange fugue his brain was trying to drag him into.

He’d have to get more sleep, he figured.

“What’d I tell you, Ice?

Sometimes I wonder if Acey here should have been the Firebird instead of me—because I’m well on my way to becoming an ace, as you all know,” Mav declared.

“Imagine being deployed with this for months,” Thorn sighed, but with a teasing glimmer in her eyes.

“Imagine agreeing to get stationed with him, and being his wingman,” Tom reparteed.

“Oh, I can,” she nodded knowingly. “I have stories, by the way.”

“Oh?

Do tell,” he grinned, playfully ignoring the groan from his wingman.

She blinked, her expression frozen for a split second, before she gestured to the aisle, “Mind if we walk and talk?”

“At your leave, Lieutenant.”

She shook her head slightly, but strode onwards, their strides matching in less than half a beat. “So there was this one incident with some shaving cream…”

When the four of them arrived at the quartermaster, as Thorn predicted, her and Romeo’s classmates were long gone.

“Hello, shitty housing,” she muttered, as she and Romeo approached the quartermaster, while he and Mav stood a ways behind.

“You’re being weird.”

“What?” Tom turned to see Mav staring at him like he was an F-14 requiring diagnostics and a shit-ton of maintenance.

“I said you’re being weird—”

“Yeah,” he slowly began, “I heard you the first time, Mav, what do you mean?”

“You—you’re being… nice,” was the other aviator’s perplexed reply, accompanied by an equally consterned gesture.

It was his turn to stare. “I am nice.”

“Uh-huh, but you’re not usually this—this, to people you don’t know.

Who are you, and what have you done to my wingman?”

If Tom were to be honest, he himself knew that he wasn’t exactly acting in character, but there was just something that tugged him to… be warmer towards Thorn and Romeo.

He put it down to wanting to repay the TOPGUN students for being kind to his brother, when not many others were.

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Mav,” he said, sounding somewhat lame to even his own ears, truthful as it was.

“Okay, sure,” the other man nodded, in an extremely distrustful tone.

“Got it!” Thorn declared, she and Romeo marching up. “Let’s see what Government Issued shanty we’ll be put up in, shall we?

Looks like we’re at… 315 Vraciu.”

Tom spoke up. “That’s not bad, I think; a couple of our classmates last year were put up in that same housing—Charles Piper and Marcus Williams—and I don’t think they had any problems.”

Romeo clicked his tongue, “Well, that’s a first—less-than half-decent housing’s usually par for the course for me and Thorn.

This’ll be a refreshing change.”

Tom would never understand why good pilots were blamed for things they couldn’t change, Mav for his father’s “betrayal” and his own unconventional flying style, and Thorn for her gender, through relentless hazing and/or poor treatment.

If he ever rose high enough to change things, he swore he would.

The housing was a basic, cookie cutter home a little over a five minute drive from the main TOPGUN building, and on the way there, Thorn and Mav were seated in the back of Tom’s truck, catching up, while Romeo sat shotgun.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Tom saw that both pilots were animatedly discussing things that had happened since the last time they saw each other, including the infamous inverted-over-a-MiG situation.

“Are they always like this?” he said in sotto voce to the RIO beside him.

Romeo flicked his dark gaze to the backseat, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah.

It’s nice to see her happy.

Not a lot of people think much of her, since she’s a woman, you know.

But Mav, he and Goose, they never saw that, they just saw a good pilot, and I’m grateful.

They were the only ones who wanted to fly with us.”

Tom frowned in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

If Mav was singing her praises, she must be a phenomenon in the sky—who wouldn’t want to be part of that?

“Nope.

They were the only ones who volunteered, so they kind of got stuck with us that whole deployment.”

At this point, they arrived at 315 Vraciu, and they all hopped out, the two students carrying their seabags to the door.

Thorn unlocked the door, she and Romeo tossing their bags in the entrance. “Well, thanks for the ride,” she nodded, Romeo doing likewise behind her.

“No problem, my pleasure,” Tom replied, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I’ll see you both around, I guess.”

He imagined that her eyes lingered longer on him than they did on Mav, and… he didn’t exactly know how he felt about that.

Mav threw off a nonchalant salute while he sent a respectful nod, before they moved to go back to his truck.

They were halfway there when they heard, “Hey Mav!”

The two of them halted, turning to see the fire of challenge in Thorn’s brilliant eyes. “You gonna take it easy on me?”

Mav scoffed, “You think I’m an idiot?”

She carefully maintained a blank look, and Mav flipped her off with a grin.

Her expression sharpened, gaze landing on him, callsign all too accurate, as the edge of defiance in her voice rang through the air. “And how about you—are you going to take it easy on me?”

He had to admire her for that already.

“If you’re as good as Mav says, that’d be a damn injustice.”

Her answering smile was dagger-keen. “Looking forward to seeing you up there, then.”

Something in him thrilled to the thought of having another worthy opponent in the sky. “It’ll be a highlight of my day, I’m sure.”

“We’ll see.”

Though not unkindly, the door shut in their faces soon after.

Tom stared at the door a moment longer, before again turning to see Mav frowning.

“You’re really being weird.”

“…Shut up, Mav.”

“Alright boys—just to remind you, we have the classes in the morning, and we’re going up in the afternoon.

For the first hop, it’s going to be Jester against Thorn and Romeo, Mitchell against Warlock and Shogun, then Ash and Igor.”

An unexpected wave of disappointment washed over Tom as he realized Viper’s hop arrangement meant he wouldn’t get to fly against Thorn the first day, but he managed to keep most of the expression off his face, especially with Mav treating him like a problem to solve the whole rest of last night.

Indeed, the shorter man was and had been surreptitiously studying him.

“Which leaves me with Belter and Elvis, and you, Kazansky, with Snackbar and Links, then Babe and Priest, for the second hop.”

Just a banner day for Thomas Kazansky, wasn’t it?

Couldn’t fly against Thorn, and didn’t even get to school Ash and Igor.

“Everyone understand?”

A chorus of “Yes, sir!”s rang through the room, and Viper nodded, pleased.

“Dismissed, then.

To your classes, gentlemen.”

Viper knocked a fist against the table twice before he and Jester departed the briefing room.

Tom gathered his folders and looked at his wingman, who was neatening a very short stack of papers. “I was hoping to have first crack at Ash and Igor,” he muttered.

“I know,” Mav smirked.

Resigned, he sighed, “Well, kick their ass extra hard for me, will ya?”

The smaller man’s smirk took on a devilish quality. “I’ll draw first blood, then you wipe the floor with them, and us together, it’ll be game over,” he stated, as he extended a fist.

“Sounds like a plan,” Tom nodded, sealing the agreement with a fist bump.

As he bent to pick up his attaché case, Tom’s eyes were again drawn to the minuscule stack of papers the other man had. “You got the material for your class today, right?”

“Uhhh, yeah, sort of,” Mav shrugged.

“‘Sort of’.

What exactly do ‘sort of’ class materials look like?”

Mav spread his hands, and he knew. “In all honesty, I was gonna just kind of wing it.”

Tom honestly should have seen it coming—but Maverick mavericking was what made Maverick, Maverick.

“Okay,” he replied, trying to hide his grin. “Sounds good.

Good—good, good.”

He managed to hold his laughter in until he reached the hall, but even then, an “Up yours, Ice!” followed him around the corner.

Tom’s class went smoothly, and after a lunch that he eagerly finished, he eventually found himself in his flight gear, fidgeting in the instructor’s ready room.

Having completed his preflight, he decided to chalk his restlessness down to the novelty of flying an A-4, a single-seater, with no Slider in his ear or backseat, as he listened intently to the comms for the first hop, Viper doing the same across the room.

Mav and Jester engaged Warlock and Shogun, and Thorn and Romeo, respectively, once the Commander called “Fight’s on!”, and Mav made short work of Warlock and Shogun, getting tone on the other pilot and RIO in a little over two minutes.

Commendable, in his opinion, for their students.

Mav called for them to knock it off and return to base, before moving on to Ash and Igor.

It was then that he realized that Jester was still engaged with Thorn and Romeo.

Romeo was evenly calling out altitudes, positions, and break directions, while Thorn composedly called maneuvers out, interrupted only by the sound of the two aviators g-straining, the F-14’s engines in the background.

He briefly turned his attention to Mav, who had engaged Ash and Igor; the two were, as he predicted, scrambling wildly for their “lives” (and based on what he was hearing, would get tone locked in a matter of seconds), in radical contrast to Thorn, who was calmly holding her own.

In his head, he could see a vague picture of what was going on up there with Jester, Thorn, and Romeo, and Tom realized that he wasn’t sure how it was going to end, the sound of Mav getting tone on Ash and Igor fading into the background.

Tom could hear the strain in Thorn and Romeo’s voices as they fought more g-forces while calling movement and other things out—they had to be at or near corner speed to make them sound like that.

Tom could hear the faint, steady beeping which warned of imminent tone lock, and he hoped she would win this, if only to prove his wingman’s faith in her skill correct.

Just as the beeping grew faster, Thorn muttered, “Just a little… come on, come on…”

He leaned forward in his seat, and realized he was holding his breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to inhale.

Then suddenly, the blare of confirmed tone.

Disappointment for her sake sank in his stomach, but only for the briefest moment, because the voice which triumphantly called out “Good lock!” was distinctly female. “That’s a kill, Commander!”

And Tom could breathe again.

Holy shit, Mav was right—she was a hell of a pilot.

Thorn managed to keep too much of the gloating out of her tone, but it was a fairly narrow thing, and in his opinion, it was justified.

A faint sound caught his attention—if he didn’t know any better, Tom could have sworn that that was a… fond chuckle that came from Jester.

“Copy kill.

Well, knock it off, Lieutenant, and RTB.”

“Yes, sir!”

Without really thinking about it, he went to the flight line, in time to see the three F-14s and two A-4s land.

His eyes were drawn to her jet as she pulled in to the flight line, and he was faintly aware of Mav’s A-4 pulling up beside his.

She’d done the impossible; Thorn, a female naval aviator, got chosen for TOPGUN, and got tone on her instructor the first day.

Technically, that wasn’t anything new—Mav had done similar—but in a sense, it was.

Women were just starting to be seen as capable of being in the military, in combat roles, to be exact, and to see a woman do something that had been the domain of men for decades, centuries, and do it just as well as a man—better even; as evidenced by the fact that in her hop, she was the only one to get tone on her instructor…

He really had to admire that—admire her.

“That good enough of an ass kicking for ya, Ice?”

Tom was snapped out of his introspection from the sudden appearance of his wingman at his side, running a hand through his hair, helmet under his arm.

“What?”

Mav grinned, “I got tone on Ash and Igor in roughly a minute or so.

How the fuck those two got picked for TOPGUN eludes me.”

Tom scoffed and shook his head in agreement. “Bet I can get tone on them faster, though.”

Mav slapped him on the shoulder, “We’ll see, Ice.”

A sudden whoop of jubilant laughter drew his gaze, and he could see Thorn about thirty paces away, coming ever closer, and his breath caught in his throat—her mouth was split in a beaming smile, wild and passionate, illuminating her from within with effervescent joy, her shining eyes endlessly reflecting her exhilaration.

Her bun was coming slightly loose, tendrils of hair framing her face and swaying in the breeze, while her flight suit clung to her figure, helmet dangling insouciantly from her fingers; it was decorated with a briar all over, red roses among thorns made of black aces, and it had her callsign across its brow.

Her eyes landed on him, and her smile took on a mischievous quality. “We got Jester, nailed him on the first day.

You gonna be ready for us?” Then, as if she only noticed Mav next to him at that moment, she amended, “Both of you?”

He grinned, just shy of showing too many teeth, nonchalantly stepping closer, shifting his weight to lean towards her, hip slightly cocked to keep his balance, barely paying any mind to the tension in Romeo’s stance behind his pilot. “We’ll see who gets tone on whom first.”

Thorn smirked as she looked him up and down, teeth tugging her bottom lip for the briefest moment before she clicked her tongue, “Good thing I’ve got front row seats for that show, then.” She pivoted on her heel, walking backwards as she sent him a casual salute, before turning to stride back to the locker room, Romeo following her with a minutely narrowed glance over his shoulder at him.

“Huh.”

He turned from watching the pilot and RIO, to see Mav again at his side, glancing back and forth between him and Thorn and Romeo.

Tom frowned, “What ‘huh’?”

“Nothing, nothing,” came the too-quick answer. “Just huh.”

“…Now who’s being weird?”

Tom’s hop with Viper was not quite as interesting as Mav with Jester’s, though he did have to commend all three pilots for holding out for a few minutes, which was more than Ash and Igor could say.

The debrief was a thing of beauty—going in reverse order from lowest to highest hop score, meant that he got to witness Mav positively eviscerate Ash and Igor as the first order of business, and the sheer stupidity that Ash displayed in the air, made Tom wonder what guardian angel or deity sent this idiot to TOPGUN.

He mentally saw a dozen different maneuvers that Ash could have done, that, while they might not have gotten him tone on Mav, they would have helped him last longer against the other pilot.

The debrief drew on, Tom stepping forward when it was his turn, not sparing the other pilots their vivisections, though theirs were not quite as harsh, by sheer dint of them not being as idiotic as Ash and Igor, and finally, it was the debrief he was waiting for; Thorn and Romeo’s.

He had an idea of what happened in the air, but he wanted to know what exactly she had done.

It was textbook and yet genius.

He was right; once they hit the merge, flying at corner speed through a series of turns, Thorn had maneuvered to force Jester to increase his turn rate, bleeding his airspeed, playing the Skyhawk’s weakness against it, before before placing him in her sights.

“…all in all, great work, Lieutenant,” Jester complimented, writing her hop score of 5 on the board, the highest number of all the teams that day, sending her a nod.

Her face was impassive as she replied, “Thank you, sir,” but Tom could see the vindication in her eyes.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve all learned something from your classes and most especially, your hops today,” Viper declared, pacing the front of the classroom. “This is only the first day, and to borrow a saying from our SEAL cousins, ‘The only easy day was yesterday’.”

The Captain stared the students down, pair by pair, searching for something in each of them.

Finally, he stated, “You’re all dismissed.”

After Jester and Viper left, leaving him and Mav, as the junior instructors, to neaten things, Ash and Igor were predictably the first out the door—just shy of storming out, while most of the others looked at Thorn with less suspicion than the day before, a few actually lingering.

While he was fixing the markers, out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Warlock step forward first, a light smile on his face. “Hey, uh, that was great, what you pulled today—I’m Solomon, but you can call me Sol or Warlock, whichever you prefer.

This is my RIO, Ken, but he prefers Shogun.”

The Asian man genially lifted a hand in greeting, “Really wish I could have seen that.”

Babe chuckled, “Yeah, that was good, wish I’d have thought of what you did, maybe I’d have had a chance against Kazansky—I’m Stephen.”

Priest, his RIO, cooed, “Aw, you embarrassed by your callsign, Babe?”

“Shut up, Tim,” Babe glared.

Priest raised both hands in surrender. “Not my fault your last name’s Ruth—I’m this stick in the mud’s RIO, Tim—call me Priest, that there’s Belter and Elvis.”

Tom almost laughed at the expression Thorn made; the momentary shock on her face was palpable, but it was swiftly concealed—the only reason it registered for him was because he was so used to reading Mav’s microexpressions.

“Thanks—nice to meet you all.

I’m Thorn, this’ Romeo, my RIO.”

Romeo shook hands with them all, a pleasant, but guarded expression on his face.

“You weren’t too bad up there yourselves, from what I heard,” she continued.

“Yeahhh, but who got tone on their instructor first day?

Not this guy,” Priest waggled his eyebrows, jerking both thumbs at his pilot, “and not any of these guys,” making the others groan or laugh.

Tom ducked his head, hiding his smile; he was glad that the others seemed to be warming up to her, he wanted her to have the same experience as he did at TOPGUN—establishing a brotherhood with his classmates.

“—Tom!”

He pivoted to see Mav snapping his fingers close to his face, and he reflexively flinched back from his wingman’s hand in his face. “What?”

He belatedly realized that he’d been saying that a little too much recently.

As if he were speaking to a particularly dull child, Mav spoke slowly. “Do you think I can erase the board now?”

“Yeah, uh, but not the scores.”

“Of course not.

You okay, Ice?”

“Yeah—fine, it’s just a… long day.”

The suspicion in Mav’s eyes didn’t fade as he sighed and nodded. “Feel up to The O Club tonight?

Maybe decompress a bit, have a drink?”

“That sounds great, actually.” Maybe a drink was what he needed, his mind seemed to be all over the place.

“‘Kay—meet you there?”

“Yeah.”

Once he finished with the room, he followed Mav out, sending a look to where Thorn was still talking with her classmates, to see that her gaze was already on him.

Her eyes immediately went back to her classmates, but nevertheless, he felt branded by her stare, like it was a tangible thing, searing through his veins, sending a paradoxical shiver down his spine.

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he could admit it; he didn’t know what it was, but he felt drawn to her.

To what end… he didn’t know.

And that…

That scared him.

Tom eased his precious Chevelle into a parking spot near the door of The O Club; a rarity, but one very welcomed, given how busy the bar seemed.

(The fact that it was within sight of Mav’s highly recognizable Ninja was a perk—he and Slider had stopped one too many parking lot beatdowns.)

He reached for his Shooters, narrowly stopping himself from putting them on (Mav hated it when he did that at night; “It makes you look like a dick”, according to his wingman), instead tucking them into the pocket of his whites, carefully opening the driver’s door, squeezing himself out of the narrow gap he afforded himself.

The black metal flake paint was pristine, and he intended to keep it that way, it didn’t matter how ridiculous he may look.

The O Club was, as the parking lot showed, busy, full of people in service whites, throwing him back to last year, that first night for the flyboys of ‘86.

He cast his gaze around the bar, peering through the haze of cigarette smoke and the people, searching for his wingman’s squirrelly figure, before a call of “Ice; over here!” pierced through the sound of numerous conversations and the jukebox, before a hand flailed wildly, becoming visible over the heads of the crowd.

Mav had claimed seats at the bar; prime real estate with the place this hectic—he didn’t want to know how the other man had kept the seat next to him free when every Tom (hah), Dick, and Harry were clamoring for a seat at the bar.

He made his way through the crowd, gratefully settling onto the barstool next to Mav, also dressed in his service whites. “Hey Mav,” he greeted.

“Hey; I ordered already, I assumed you’d want your usual vodka on the rocks.”

“Thanks; you know me too well.”

“Kind of hard to miss when it’s literally what you order every single time,” Mav smirked.

Tom rolled his eyes—he was a creature of habit, sue him.

(And if vodka on the rocks reminded him of his Dedushka, what was wrong with that?)

“Seems like all of Fightertown is here tonight,” he muttered to Mav.

“You’re not too far off on that, I saw basically all of our students here,” the other man replied, taking a sip of his beer. “Only ones I haven’t seen are Thorn and Romeo, actually,” he finished casually.

Rather against Tom’s will, something in him lurched forward, his thought process halting, making him feel like he’d just snagged the third wire on the carrier deck.

Despite that, he managed a calm—at least in his opinion—“Oh.”

“Mmm.” Another calm sip of beer from his wingman—too calm.

He narrowed his eyes and sighed at Mav. “What the fuck is that ‘Mmm’ for?”

The dark-haired aviator pulled an expression like he just sucked on a lemon. “What, can’t a guy just ‘Mmm’ anymore?”

“Not when you’ve been fucking weird for the past two days,” he replied, sending the harried bartender a grateful nod as they slid his vodka on the rocks over to him.

“I’m not weird, you’re weird,” was Mav’s reply, and he narrowed his eyes at the muted shimmer of something in the other pilot’s eyes.

He was about to retort when his eyes were drawn to the door, and the bulk of Romeo walked in, his head and whites-clad shoulders peeking above quite a few people’s.

It was mere curiosity, he told himself, that led him to lean to see if his pilot was also with him.

It took a beat, but then, several people in the crowd moved, and he saw her—her hair cascaded down her shoulders, as sharp eyes surveyed The O like it was the skies, dressed, unlike everyone else in the Navy who occupied this space, in civvies; a loose, white blouse tucked into jeans, cinched with a thick brown leather belt at her waist.

And everything seemed to fade into the background, the sight of her drowning out the sound of the bar, and Mav’s howling laughter.

To be continued…

Previous Part Next Part

Faceclaims

Russian glossary

Disclaimer: translations are from the interwebs.

Please don’t kill me.

Dedushka: Grandfather

Two years is the real-life age gap between Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer.

The story behind Ice and Slider’s bad ejection actually did happen to a pilot-RIO pair, then-Commander William Switzer and then-Lieutenant (junior grade) David “Bio” Baranek on December 19, 1981, aboard the very same aircraft carrier that I mentioned.

You can read the detailed description of the incident here, retold by Commander Baranek, for the Ejection Tie Club of the Martin-Baker company, who specialize in making ejection seats—including those of the F-14 Tomcat—for pilots and backseaters who have ejected using a Martin-Baker ejection seat.

VFA-41, the “Black Aces”, based out of NAS Lemoore, were featured in Top Gun: Maverick as the squadron of Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, and I thought that would be nice to include that, in this universe at least, Phoenix is a member of the squadron with the first female naval aviator selected for TOPGUN.

Icy-Hot is a liniment that has been on the market since before 1931.

The name of LTJG Kenneth “Shogun” Han is a reference to this scene in the now-ABC hit series, 9-1-1, where paramedic/firefighter Howard “Chimney” Han, played by actor Kenneth Choi, replies that if he weren’t a paramedic/firefigher, he’d have liked to be a Navy TOPGUN graduate, with the callsign “Shogun”.

The names of Henry “Snackbar” Baker, Stephen “Babe” Ruth, and Timothy “Priest” Martin are a reference to both the original name of Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe—Henry Ruth—and the Martin-Baker company.

The speeches that Jester and Viper give are nearly word for word the same as the speeches that they gave in TG86, with some authorly variation because I didn’t want to rehash the same speeches that we heard in the movie word for word.

Again, VF-1, a now inactive squadron based out of NAS Miramar, is the squadron that Mav and Goose belonged to before they went to TOPGUN, although it must be noted that, like most of the squadron patch designs in Top Gun, the patch design as seen on Mav and Goose’s flight suits, is incorrect and not matching the squadron designation, instead bearing the insignia of VAW-110, the “Firebirds”, who flew the E-2 Hawkeye, which was shown as Comanche in TG:M.

Alexander Vraciu was a WWII Navy ace who downed 12 Japanese aircraft and sank a Japanese merchant ship with a direct hit to her stern.

The merge is a concept used in air combat, where aerial warfighters engage with enemy aircraft by steering their plane toward the adversary—this maneuver is referred to as “going to the merge.”

Corner Speed

Did anyone catch the TG:M line reference?

Special thanks to @valmare for the Ice has a Chevelle headcanon!

Service Whites

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[ironwoman359]

i saw your tag about how in 500 years we WON'T be calling britney spears' "toxic" classical music, and i am willing and able to hear this rant if you so wish to expand upon it :3c

You know what, it's been over six months, so sure, why not, let's pick today to have this rant/lesson!

To establish my credentials for those unfamiliar Hi my name's Taylor I was a music teacher up until last year when the crushing realities of the American Education SystemTM led me to quit classroom work and become a library clerk instead. But said music teaching means that I have 4+ years of professional classical training in performance and education, and while I'm by no means a historian, I know my way around the history of (european) music.

So, now that you know that I'm not just some rando, but a musical rando, let me tell you why we won't be calling Britney Spears or [insert modern musician(s) that'd be especially humorous to today's audience to call classical] "classical music."

The simple answer is that "Old music =/= Classical music," which is usually the joke being made when you see this joke in the first place.

As funny as this joke can be when executed well (this is one of my favorite versions of said joke, especially since this is a future world where there's very little accurate surviving info about the culture from the 21st century), there is VERY little likely of this actually being how music from today is referred to in the future, because, again, music being OLD does not automatically make music CLASSICAL.

If you'd indulge me a moment, have a look at these three pieces from the early 1900s, which is now over 100 years ago. That's pretty old! You don't have to listen to the whole of all of them if you don't want to, but give each around 30 seconds or so of listening.

All three pieces are over 100 years old, but would you call "In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree" classical? Or "The Entertainer?" Most likely not. You'd probably call these songs "old timey" and you may even be savvy enough to call "The Entertainer" by it's actual genre name, ragtime. But if either of these songs came on the radio, you wouldn't really call them classical, would you? They're just old.

Whereas Mahler's Symphony No. 5, now that sounds like classical music to you, doesn't it? It's got trumpets, violins, a conductor, it's being played by a philharmonic! That's a classical musicy word!

The short answer of why we in the real, nonfictional world won't be calling Britney Spears's "Toxic" classical music in 100 years is it simply doesn't sound like classical music.

.....and the long answer is that Mahler's Symphony No. 5 isn't actually classical either.

See, music, just like everything in culture from dress to art to architecture changed with the times, and therefore 'classical music' is technically (although not colloquially) only one of about four to five musical periods/styles you're likely to hear on one of those "classical music tunes to study to" playlists.

Our dear friend Mahler up there was not a classical composer, he was a composer of the late romantic era.

So now, because I have you hostage in my post (just kidding please don't scroll away I had a lot of fun writing this but it took me nearly 3 hours) I'm going to show you the difference between Classical music and the other musical eras.

These are the movements we'll be dealing with, along with the general dates that define them (remembering of course that history is complicated and the Baroque Period didn't magically begin on January 1st, 1600, or end the moment Bach died) :

The Baroque Period (1600-1750)

The Classical Period (1750-1820)

The Romantic Period (1820-1910)

The Impressionist Movement (1890-1920)

You'll notice that as time goes on, the periods themselves grow shorter, and there starts to become some overlap in the late 19th to early 20th century. The world was moving faster, changing faster, and music and art began changing faster as well. Around the beginning of the 20th century music historians quit assigning One Major style to an entire era of history and just started studying those movements themselves, especially since around the 20th century we were getting much more experimentation and unique ideas being explored in the mainstream.

Even the end of the classical to the beginning of the romantic period can get kind of fuzzy, with Beethoven, arguably one of the most famous classical (and yes he was actually classical) composers in history toeing the line between classical and romantic in his later years. The final movement of his 9th symphony, known as Ode to Joy, far more resembles a romantic work than a classical one.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

To oversimplify somewhat, here are the main characteristics of said movements:

The Baroque Period (1600-1750)

Music was very technical and heavily ornamented. This coincided with a very "fancy" style of dress and decoration (the rococo style became popular towards the latter half of this period). The orchestras were far smaller than we are used to seeing in concert halls today, and many instruments we consider essential would not have been present, such as the french horn, a substantial percussion section, or even the piano*. Notable composers include Vivaldi (of the Four Seasons fame), Handel (of the Messiah fame) and Bach:

*the piano as we know it today, initially called the pianoforte due to its ability to play both softly (piano) and loudly (forte) in contrast to the harpsichord, which could only play at one dynamic level, was actually invented around 1700, but didn't initially gain popularity until much later. This Bach Concerto would have traditionally been played on a harpsichord rather than a piano, but the piano really does have such a far greater expressive ability that unless a group is going for Historical Accuracy, you'll usually see a piano used in performances of baroque work today.

The Classical Period (1750-1820)

In the classical period, music became more "ordered," not just metaphorically but literally. The music was carefully structured, phrases balanced evenly in a sort of call and response manner. Think of twinkle twinkle little star's extremely balanced phrasing, itself a tune that Mozart took and applied 12 classical variations to, cementing it in popularity. And speaking of twinkle twinkle, memorable melody became more important to the composition than ornamentation, and many of our most universally known melodies in the west come from this period. The orchestra also grew bigger, adding more players of all kinds as now we didn't have to worry about overpowering the single-volume harpsichord, and additional instruments like more brass and woodwinds were added. Notable composers include Haydn (of The Surprise Symphony fame) Beethoven (of, well, Fame), and Mozart:

Pay attention to the size of the orchestra here, then go back to the Bach concerto. Notice how in that very typical Baroque setting, the orchestra sits at maybe 20 people, and that here in a Classical setting, there's nearly two times that!

The Romantic Period (1820-1910)

In the romantic period, it was all about BIG FEELINGS, MAN. It was about the DRAMA. Orchestras got even bigger than before, the music focused less on balance and became more dramatic, and there was a big focus on emotions, individualism, and nationalism. Discerning listeners will notice a lot of similarities between romantic symphonies and modern film scores; John Williams in particular is very clearly influenced by this era, any time I'd play the famous Ride of the Valkyries by Wagner in a class, the kids would remark that it sounds like it should be in Star Wars. A lot of romantic composers were German, including Beethoven, if you want to call his later works romantic (which I and many others argue you can, again, compare Ode to Joy to one of his earlier works and you can hear and see the difference), but you also have the Hungarian Liszt (of the Hungarian Rhapsodies fame), the Russian Tchaikovsky (of the Nutcracker and 1812 Overture fame), and the Czech Dvořák:

See how this orchestra is even bigger still? Modern orchestras tend to vary in size depending on what pieces they are playing, but the standard is much closer to this large, romantic size, and it's far less typical to see a small, intimate Baroque setting unless specifically attending a Baroque focused concert. Also I know I embedded Dvořák because Symphony From a New World slaps but please also listen to Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No.2 it's one of my all time favorite pieces and NOT just because of the Tom and Jerry cartoon, alright? Alright.

The Impressionist Movement (1890-1920)

A bit after it began but definitely still during the romantic period, a counter movement began in France that turned away from the emotional excess of romanticism and focused less on standard chord progression and explored more unconventional scales. This music was less worried about how it 'should' sound and was more concerned with evoking a certain emotion or image, giving you an "impression" of an idea. Debussy is by far the most well known name in this movement, even though he personally hated the term 'impressionism,' lol.

Notice the way the periods build on each other naturally, literally, physically builds on the orchestras that came before, evolving in style and structure until you get to the late 19th and early 20th century when things were built up so big that a response to that excess started to develop, first in the impressionist movement, and then into 20th century music in general, which got much more experimental and, as we say, "weird." (frickin 12 tone scales, man)* *i do not actually dislike the sound of 12 tone, it's interesting and unique, but it is HELL to analyze in music theory, which is unfortunately when a lot of us classical musicians are first introduced to it, therefore tarnishing our relationship to the genre as we cannot separate it from our own undergrad anguish

Even if you're not a super active listener and you have a harder time discerning the difference between, say, late baroque and early classical, you cannot deny that the first piece I've linked by Bach and the last piece I've linked by Debussy sound completely different. They're both orchestral pieces (I intentionally chose all orchestral pieces as my examples here, getting into solo works, opera, and chamber ensembles would take too long), but other than that, they couldn't be more different.

Wait, so what are we talking about again?

Classical Music is first a period of music, a specific artistic movement with music typically written in Europe between 1750 and 1820 with a specific sound that is distinct from these other styles I've outlined here.

And Classical Music is second a genre. Because while academically and historically Baroque music is not classical, and Romantic music is not classical...colloquially it is. They sound similar enough that it makes sense to put them on the same playlists, the same radio stations, the same 'beats to study to' youtube compilation videos. While individuals may have favorites and preferences, it's not far fetched to say that if you like listening to one of these styles, you'll at least like one of the others.

But whether you're being broad and referring to our modern idea of the classical genre, or you're being pedantic like me and referring to a specific period of musical history (or modern compositions emulating that style, because yeah, modern compositions of all of theses styles do exist), I think we can all agree that, as much as it slaps, "Toxic" by Britney Spears is not classical music, and 500 years is unlikely to change our perspective of that.

A Traditional Ballad though?

Yeah, I can see us calling it that in 5 billion years.

(the full version of this scene is age restricted for some reason, but you can watch it here)

Anyway, thanks for reading y'all, have a good one!

[sforsprinkles]

Sharing two hypothetical Hylics albums I made for fun.

Little Intro before I actually talk about these two.

(Keep reading if you wish to get straight to the playlists.)

I made two of these a while ago but forgot to share them here. These are just playlists with songs that fit within the series and are formatted in a way that makes them just as long as most albums (even went out of my way to make sure the tracks didn't have any jarring transition into the next)

"Hylics My Thoughts" is a playlist that goes over general vibes i get from the series and could be applied to most things seen in the world of Hylics. This playlist has 11 tracks totaling just 1 hour.

"Airship Whistles" is a playlist that focuses on the feelings I got when thinking about the many airships seen throughout Hylics; this can be applied to things such as Waynes own flying experience as well as the other characters like the sages' and their great airship, Dithslarn Moon. I also like thinking of the other airship/spaceship users and the life the have up in the sky, especially those seen in the age of sages'. This playlist contains 11 tracks and totals to about an hour and four minutes.

I hope that people can enjoy listening to these two playlists I made, I found alot of joy from picking out these tracks and just treating these two as if they were actual albums.

Covers of both playlists done by yours truly.

[luckydicekirby]

would love any director's commentary you may have on The Only True Thing if slightly older fics are on the table here bc lowkey it changed my brain chemistry forever. I read it on a whim like four years ago at 1 in the morning and ever since then I've been hooked on making all my fav pairings miserable for no reason. this sounds like sarcasm but I'm being completely sincere the schadenfreude is exquisite

okay first of all I’m SO glad to hear this because making your favs miserable is I think one of the most rewarding activities on this earth so I’m really glad I could help share that joy. thanks also to sylvain for just making it so easy. anyway, here’s some assorted thoughts, hopefully some of which are edifying!

(the only true thing for reference for anyone playing along at home.)

this fic affectionately named the darkling au due to this tweet which I feel like I should put in a hall of fame someday. anyway this entire thread showcases the origin of this fic which was me catie and lily bullying each other on twitter about sylvix, a pastime left behind in 2019 which i really miss.

the thing that really first made me Crazy Cuckoo about sylvain is his B support with Byleth--I'm obsessed with that moment where he very coldly threatens to kill you and then laughs it off, and that was pretty much the jumping off point for Sylvain's characterization in this au--what if he was like that all the time? answer: it would be bad, but also pretty sexy!

One thing I miss about writing for fe3h is the hero’s relics were sooo nice as like. shortcut symbolism. the lance of ruin comes preloaded for you! It’s familial cycles of violence! Easy! and there's a mechanic for it breaking ALSO preloaded into the game mechanics! I wrote like three versions of the ending and the lance getting busted moved around a bit--it originally happened a little earlier.

For a while when I was still femblempilled I was idly thinking about two sequels to this—a sylvain pov sequel about the war, which would have been fun but also Yikes, and then epistolary dorothea/ingrid ideological divorce fic. sorry to dorothea and ingrid who really get the short end of the stick in this universe.

oh there's a playlist. I can’t claim to have put a ton of thought into it it’s just all my fav bad ya boyfriend songs <3 actually dead girl walking reprise is like. yeah that's the fic.

ANYWAY. I feel like a lot of my commentary on this has been washed away by the sea (the passage of time) so a few extras. I apparently wrote like 400 words of sylvain POV of the training yard scene also? Last edited September 26th 2019, here you go:

Felix has always been smaller him, ever since they were kids. Still is these days, to Sylvain’s delight. He wondered about it plenty, these past two years--maybe Felix had a growth spurt. Maybe he caught up to Dimitri. Maybe Sylvain would meet him at the monastery and they’d see eye to eye. Of course they don’t. Felix is a head shorter than him, and he’ll never see things the way Sylvain does. Still. Sylvain thought about it. He’s had a lot of time to think about Felix since the last time he saw him, since Felix ran away. Still a crybaby at heart, no matter how sure he was he’d grown out of it. Not much has changed, Sylvain figures. Felix might have everyone else fooled with that delightfully sharp-edged exterior of his--a pretty decent feint, Sylvian should know--but Felix can’t hide from him. Sylvain sees him down to the bone. The two of them are a matched set: liars at heart.  Like right now. Felix is trying so hard not to cry, his back to the wall of the training yard, his grip tight around the wood of his training sword like he’s actually going to use it. Sylvain hopes he will. He hasn’t gotten to see Felix fight yet, really fight. He bets he’s gotten better. He bets he’s elegant and controlled—maybe less so with Sylvain, and wouldn’t that be nice? That’s how it goes sometimes, when Sylvain dreams about their last day together. Felix’s sword at his throat, biting and cold, ending all this before it began. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Sylvain wouldn’t have had to spend such an awfully long time missing him.  He bets Felix could make him hurt. Nothing seems to do that anymore, except for thoughts of Felix, the ones he can never stop worrying at like a bruise.  Sylvain doesn’t want much these days, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard: he wants Felix in a way that aches, delirious and unstoppable. It doesn’t matter so much how. Felix is welcome to cut him open or kiss him quiet or anything in between. As long as he never stops looking at Sylvain like he is now, hateful and just on the edge of tears, so clearly focused on nothing else. As long as Sylvain can have that, the rest doesn’t matter.  That’s love, Sylvain figures; the cheerful facade he gives the girls is nothing. He forgets about a new one every week. But Felix? He’ll be dead someday, and Felix will still have a grip on his heart, as tight as he’s holding his sword and just as dangerous.

and what exists of the sylvain POV sequel I never wrote:

Felix looks like shit. Of course he’s also beautiful. He’s radiant, for all that his hair’s a mess and his face is drawn and he’s got the kind of dark circles that only come from weeks and weeks of exhaustion. He’s Felix, right? He can’t be anything else. “You look like shit,” Sylvain tells him, because honesty is what Felix thinks he wants from him. He hasn’t seen Felix in six moons, but that probably hasn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” Felix asks. His horse stamps her feet and shakes her head, moving uneasily under him. Felix has never been a good rider. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate his mare, and she doesn’t appreciate him. Sylvain wonders how long Felix has been making his way across Faerghus like this. He wonders if he stole the horse. It’s awful not to know. “Looking for you,” Sylvain says. “They say you’re searching for the king.” Felix never could stop himself from chasing ghosts. Sylvain hates that about him. It’s just as unfair as everything else: it’s the only reason Sylvain is still here, after all.  “I am. And you should be defending Gautier territory.” “Got a message from your father,” Sylvain lies. He slides off his horse, patting her flank. Felix, clumsily, does the same. “He wants you to come home.” That part’s probably true.  Felix scoffs. “My old man can send all the messages he wants. I’m going to find the boar.” He means it. Sylvain can see that he means it, in the flinty look in his eyes, the fold of his arms, the jut of his chin as he looks up at Sylvain. It’s the saddest thing Sylvain’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of shit. “Felix,” he says. He reaches out. He can never help it, not when Felix is like this, not when he believes. Felix doesn’t flinch from Sylvain’s hand on his cheek anymore. “Sweetheart. You know he’s dead.” “Don’t call me that,” Felix says. But when he swings himself back in the saddle and Sylvain does the same, he doesn’t tell Sylvain not to follow. That’s more than good enough. 

[definitelynotshouting]

got tagged by my beloved @sillyfairygarden for the "list 5 songs you have on repeat" ask game :]

Forever by Noah Kahan which has been playing on loop in my brain for the past four days straight while i worked on my latest fic, which pulls some of the lyrics for its title!! Admittedly this song isn't my favorite by him, im more of a Paul Revere girlie, but i utterly adore the chorus and it massages my brain each time i hear it :]

Spectator by Friday Pilots Club which has like. THE dirtiest bass line ive heard in a while and also includes one of my magical earworm chord transitions in the chorus. Like holy shit. My brain is melting in the BEST of ways and ive been looping it whenever i want to feel action-y without actually thinking

On a much lighter musical note ive been listening a lot to Arboretum by Sparkbird since it first came out like two weeks ago, which like, shout out to the anon who introduced me to him im so hooked now. Im utterly obsessed with the different tempos and times meshed together in this song so seamlessly, and the lyrics are like POETRY (this song has also made it to my scarian playlist LOL the lyrics are so top tier for them imo)

. dont look at me but this is my number one song to loop when i need to get shit done and want an insanely catchy tune to do it with anyway go listen to Vending Machine of Love by The Stupendium i promise you it is so so funny and so so worth it (and full of INSANE wordplay too) (also it IS suggestive so keep that in mind if u go to listen)

This list would not be complete by me without a City and Colour song so i offer up The Love Still Held Me Near, which is SO GORGEOUS and constantly makes me think of lighthouses and fog and crashing seas.... this is my go-to loop for his songs rn its so full of life and energy while still feeling melancholy in a gorgeously aching way im OBSESSED OKAY GO LISTEN YOU WANNA LISTEN TO THIS SOOOO BAD GO GO GO ‼️‼️‼️‼️💥💥💥💥💥

Okay i am tagginggggg.... @squish--squash @corvidaearts @cocoabats @emberglowfox @raichett :]

[rancidpancakebatter]

hey, i hope you're doing amazing! i was wondering if you could write a tasm!peter fic based on the song 'honest' by the neighbourhood? it can be reaaally angst, i promise i won't complain, not even a little bit! thankk you soo muuch in advance, i love your writing! ♡

You want angst? I'll give you angst

Honest by The Neighborhood [P.P.] | The Playlist

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: Peter is lying. Peter has been lying. And now you have to find out why.

Content: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption (legal age), Mentions of blood (Spider-Man injuries but nothing too graphic), break up,

( Paylist | Masterlist | Fic Break down: 1|2])

A/N: I'm making my way through my asks and It's been great. Thank you for all that submit things to my ask box, I love seeing it :))

You pace your room, a vexing mix of emotions swirling in your gut. You had to talk to him. You couldn’t keep doing this. You were confused. You were angry. You were hurt. But really you were scared. You were scared for Peter. You couldn’t understand it. You couldn’t understand him.

You were supposed to have a date last night. You had been looking forward to it all week. Your boss had been up your ass lately, demanding you reformat your analytics debrief six different times. There was family drama your mother was constantly updating you on and asking for guidance in a situation you were too exhausted to deal with. And you hadn’t had a chance to go grocery shopping (due to the overtime you had to put in), so your cabinets were bare and your fridge bereft.

All-in-all, not a good time. Peter had promised that he would see you. That you would be together. But instead, you waited in your fancy dress and painful shoes for four hours, drowning your sorrows in wine and staring at your unanswered texts. Waiting, always waiting.

Peter had always been a bit flakey. He would often ask to reschedule or push back plans, garnering some excuse as to why he couldn’t make it on time. It was a bit annoying, but not the end of the world. Peter liked to take things slow, and you respected that.

You went on seven dates before he kissed you. You'd been dating for six months before he said I love you, and you didn’t sleep together until a month later. You figured Peter just had a fear of intimacy, but he seemed to be trying, and you didn’t want to pressure him. But he has pushed you too far. Your patience is gone. 

The wine was almost empty; you had ditched your glass a while ago. There was no point in keeping up with social etiquettes when it was just you. It’s not like you were going to share it with anyone. Not anymore, at least.

You heard a knock on your door and made no attempt to answer it. You were playing music, but it wasn’t loud enough to warrant a visit from any neighbours. You didn’t feel up to a social call, so you continued to wallow. 

“(Y/n)? (Y/n), honey, it’s me. Can you open the door please?”

For a moment, you thought it was a hallucination. Your drunken mind stringing you along, taunting you with the one thing you wanted. 

He knocked again, “(Y/n), I know you’re in there. Just open the door.”

You scoffed and took another sip, “Look, your mad; I get it. I understand, and you have every right to be. I’m so, so sorry. Please, I- I want to apologise.”

You felt your body temperature rise and anger slowly build in your veins as it pushed out the self-pity you had once been filled with. You took unsteady steps towards the door, the cold tile against your bare feet making you shiver.

You undid the deadbolt but kept the chain in place, opening the door and peeking your face through the gap. You just looked at each other for a moment, a silent stare down. Your gaze held a certain animosity, while his was filled with relief, though it grew confused when the door stayed in its partially opened state. 

“Can I come in?” You say nothing as you continue to stare him down.

“Please, I know you’re mad-” If he says that again you just might scream. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. 

“You don’t know anything, Peter.” Your words slur together, and the t’s don’t come out just right, but you’re sure he understands precisely how angry you are with the venom you spit out alongside his name. 

His brows furrow as he looks over your face. “Are you- are you drunk?”

You keep your glare intact as you think over your answer. You could lie, but you didn’t need a mirror to tell you that your cheeks were adorned by a familiar warmth, and your lips were surely tinted with an obvious magenta stain.

“Yes, but that’s none of your business. Good night.” You move to close the door, but Peter’s hand stops you. 

“Uhng- Wait. Ow, shit- just wait a second, please.” You slowly open the door again, not for his pleas but for his expressions of pain. 

This time you look at him, really look at him. You can see a bit of blood on his lip, a bruise on his cheek, and his hand holding his side. You feel a chill run down your spine. 

“Back up.” He takes a step back, taking his weight off the door while you undo the chain lock and usher him inside. 

You set him on the couch and winced along with him. You rushed to your bathroom and prepared a warm washcloth and some band-aids you found under the sink. Maybe you should invest in a first-aid kit. You had never needed one before.

You returned to Peter’s side and raised your hand to his face. It wasn’t really necessary, his eyes have been locked on you since entering. But you lifted his chin anyway, a silent promise to hold him close.

You wiped gingerly at his lip, wiping away any dried blood and grime. It was obvious that he had wiped at it a few times. 

“I’m so sorry. Really I-” You lightly pinched his chin. 

“Hush. I don’t need an apology. I- I just…Peter, are you okay?” You could feel your eyes watering, tears swimming forth and resting on the verge.

In his eyes, you could see the once-sweet cacao of his irises tainted by fear and distress. It pained you to see it, so you stopped looking. You grabbed his hands instead, gingerly wiping down each finger, tracing the tendons and fate lines. 

“I’ll be okay.” His hand was still holding his side, and you moved it, slowly lifting his shirt to look underneath. 

The wound stretched from his lat to his hip, twisting toward his stomach. It looked like a giant rug burn. No, more like a scrape you would get on your knee after tripping on the sidewalk. Only deeper. You could still see bits of gravel lodged between the flesh, and you grimaced at the thought. That had to be so very painful.

You wished you had rubbing alcohol so you could clean it. A wound of that size, that exposed, was sure to get infected. You used the rag as gently as possible and mumbled a sorry every time he hissed. You didn’t make much progress before he grabbed your hand, calling your name sweetly. 

“Hey, hey. Just leave it be. Really, it’s fine.” He tries to comfort you with a smile, but it’s tired at the edges, his drooping eyes not matching the expression.

You can feel yourself choking up but try to swallow it down because Peter needs you right now. He shouldn’t have to be the strong one.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, “Wh-what happened, Pete? Who did this to you?”

He swallows before he answers.

“I…got mugged.” You tense for a second.

“You got mugged?” If Peter noticed how your concern drifts, he made no comment on the matter.

“…Yes.” You drop his hands, let go of him.

You turned your body away as you stared at the wall. Your tears were dangerously close to falling. This is when your patience broke. This exact moment. It snapped, stretched too thin and tested too often.

It shattered along with your heart, shards scattered across the uneven floors of your apartment. The wine in your system did nothing to dull the pain of heartbreak. You felt every crack and splinter as it slowly broke apart, then burst all at once.

“Are you sure?” Your voice is cold, your capability for sympathy floating away in waves. 

You saw him tilt his head in confusion from your peripheral. Any other time you would have thought it was adorable- compared him to a Yorkie or a Spaniel- but his act of innocence only made you angrier now.  

“Yeah…why?” 

You remained silent as you got up from your seat, walking around the back of the couch to the side he was sitting on. You grabbed his backpack, tucked into the side as if he had hidden it, and dropped it on the coffee table. Peter’s eyes widened at the site. 

“So you got mugged…and your backpack is still in perfect order?”

The canvas was unstained, the zippers undamaged. The bag was in its normal state of distress. You watched as his face began to flush, and his mouth opened and closed uselessly.

You waited for a response, but when he refused to give one- you pushed forward. You unzipped its pockets and pulled out the valuables that were all unharmed and very obtainable to anyone who wanted to take them by force. 

“You got mugged, and they let you keep your camera, your laptop, the Beats I got you for Chanukah, and your wallet with… ” You dramatically counted the cash in front of him, “forty-two dollars in it?” 

“It- he…uh… ” You tapped your foot as your arms rested firmly in a crossed position. 

“It wasn’t a successful mugging,” He finally settled on. 

“What happened? Exactly.” Peter squirmed on the couch a bit as if running from your anger. 

“He, uh, stopped me. And then he took out a… knife. And then he told me to give him all my stuff, and when I started to run, he knocked me down. We fought for a bit, and then I got away.” Peter looked you in the eyes while he uttered, which only infuriated you more.

“When did this happen? Where? What did he look like?”

You continued to grill him as he fumbled through each answer he gave you. Your anger climbed with every word he said. He might have been able to convince May, but you knew his tells. 

Usually, he would ramble, giving entirely too much context to a situation, caught up wholly in the story. But when he lied, he said as little as possible. Peter fidgeted a lot. If he was sitting, you could bet one, if not both, of his feet, were bouncing. But now he sat before you almost perfectly still. Shifting his body around slowly, his discomfort evident.

“Peter, how the fuck do you get yanked across the concrete hard enough to get an injury like that? Did you get assaulted by Mike Tyson? It looks like you were hitched to a truck and dragged.” You ask, angrily pointing at where his hand continues to rest on his side.

“You’ve told me this story three times now, and not once did you mention that. I’m not buying it; just tell me what happened.” You watch as Pete shifts again, propping his elbows on his knees as he brings his head into his palms.

He sits there for a moment before he ruffles his hair and sits back up. “Okay, you got me. I-I fell on my skateboard. I was just embarrassed about it.”

“You missed our date…because you were skateboarding.” It wasn’t a question because that wasn’t the truth either. "You're telling me that you hurt yourself this severely, and disappeared for however many hours because you randomly decided to ride your skateboard for the first time in almost a year, and you were embarrassed."

Peter broke out into another story, but you blocked it out. You weren’t a particularly violent person, but Peter was pushing you to that level.

You clenched your fist as you fought the urge to grab everything within reach and chuck it at his incredibly thick head, maybe knocking some sense into him. You felt like you were losing your mind. You were seconds from snapping, and you weren’t sure what that would look like.

Your head was pounding, and your buzz was long gone. You weighed your options for a minute before releasing a terse sigh, cutting off his newly woven tall tale.

“Are you gonna bleed out and die tonight?” You still couldn’t look at him; you focused instead on memorising the phosphenes dancing behind your eyelids.

“No, I’ll be okay, I promise.”

You almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his statement. Here you were, arguing over his blatant dishonesty, and he thinks you’ll accept his promise? You felt sore from the way your muscles had been tensing.

“Then get out.” You didn’t need to look at him to know how pitiful he must look. 

“What?” He sounded so small, and you felt bad for a moment, but only a moment. 

“I said, get out, Peter. If you can’t be honest with me, then…just leave.” You finally open your eyes, utterly defeated.

He stood, taking a step toward you but stopping when you backed away. “(Y/n/n), I’m telling you the truth-”

“No! You’re not! And I don’t want to hear another word. Not tonight.” You held your head in your hands, blinking back tears. 

He froze, staring at you incredulously. He looked completely distraught, and while you wanted to feel bad, all you could think was maybe now he understood how you felt. Just how terrible this exchange made you feel.

You didn’t really want to kick him out; you wanted him to hold you close and tell you everything was okay. You wanted him to change into his sweats and scold you for stealing his sleep shirt, forcing him to remain shirtless. You wanted him to complain about you keeping him up by staring at him while he tried to sleep. You wanted him to retaliate by rolling over on top of you, peppering you kisses and pretending to fall asleep like that.

You wanted to go back, return to normalcy. But the damage was done, and no patchwork could turn this around. 

You pushed his backpack toward him, across the table, and that seemed to break him from his trance. He slowly threw it over his shoulder, giving you a tearful glance before he walked to the door. You followed him to the threshold, and he only took one step into the hallway before whipping around to face you. 

“Not tonight…but when?”

You hastily swiped a tear that had fallen from your eye, “I need space. I need to calm down and think before we discuss this anymore.”

Peter's jaw quivered slightly before he forced the muscles to tighten. He turned, and his heavy steps echoed in the hall. You close the door behind him and finally let the tears fall. Your body racked with sobs as you sunk to the floor, the exhaustion catching up to you. You felt utterly deflated, devastated by Peter’s inability to just talk to you, to be honest. You ended up falling asleep there. 

Three days had passed. Peter had texted you thrice. That night he told he was sorry and he hoped you were okay. You didn’t respond.

Obviously, you weren’t okay, but you didn’t know how to communicate that without blaming him and inevitably starting another fight. He texted you again halfway through the next day to ask how yours was. You had spent it fighting the urge to go to Aunt May to cry to her instead of your playlist of heartwrenching songs.

You knew she would give you comfort and support, knowing exactly how it feels to be lied to by Peter, but you also didn’t want to put her in that situation. You didn’t tell him this; you didn’t say anything. The last message Peter sent you just read: “let me know when you’re ready to talk. I’ll be here.”

As you paced around your bedroom, you think you’ve finally reached a mindset that was level-headed-adjacent. You had calmed down significantly.

You didn’t like feeling angry. But for you to get as upset as you did, was borderline unacceptable. You had to acknowledge that Peter’s lies had been gnawing at you for a while so you could begin to heal. And now, as the sun sits high in the sky, you bask in its beams. You sit on your bed and hug a pillow to your chest; your phone weighs heavy in your hands as your thumbs hover over your keypad. 

You had come to the conclusion that you were both at fault. Peter had lied. He had lied often. He had scared you. He kept you in the dark, but you made it your home. You never called him out for it. You never communicated your fear or concern, or why you felt you needed him to tell you the truth. But you also realised that being open and honest, that communication, came with trust.

If Peter wasn’t coming to you, it was because he didn’t trust you, and you had to open your mind to the possibility that that could be your fault. You decided that needed to be the basis of your conversation. And you were finally ready to do it. You were determined to save this relationship.

You texted Peter that you were ready to talk, and for once, he responded immediately. You felt a little bad that he hadn’t heard from you yet, but you didn’t want to lash out; you were looking for a resolution. You asked to meet at his place, “I’m home all day.”

You go over everything you want to say as you walk down the street. It was a forty-five-minute walk between you and Peter’s place. You could take the bus, but you wanted the walk. You wanted the fresh air and constant motion. You were nervous, but if you were walking, you didn’t have to focus on it. 

When the door opens, Peter’s eyes light up. As if looking at you brightens his mood alone. He wore a timid smile, and his shoulders were tense, but his eyes twinkled in the hallway fluorescents just because they fell on you.

He invited you in and sat down on the couch. He attempted to make small talk, and you tried your best to answer without saying anything that may garner guilt. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter suddenly blurted out. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but he continued, “I missed our date, and I didn’t text you. I am so, so sorry. That wasn’t okay, and I promise to do better.”

You took his hand, and he seemed to relax a bit. “Peter that- yeah, that sucked. But that’s not what I’m upset about.”

You could almost feel Peter’s nerves, like his anxiety was shooting out of the pads of his fingers and into you. “I am worried about you. You are often…harmed in some way or late, and you can never tell me why. And I just- I’m-”

Maybe it was your nerves you were feeling. “I’m worried you don’t trust me. I wanted to know if there was something I could do to remedy that.”

Peter grips your hand a little tighter, “I trust you. Of course, I trust you.”

His words soak into your skin, and you feel anger bubbling within you. But it’s not just rage; it’s exhaustion. You’ve done this song and dance, and the tune no longer excites you. You know now that there’s no way to avoid it. If he claims it’s not you then you have to confront him. But you didn’t really want to. You knew the question but feared the answer. The words lodged in your throat, and it felt harder to breathe. 

Say it, You thought. You should say it.

“So, then, why do you lie?”

He pulled back from you slowly enough that you could feel him slipping away. 

“I don’t.”

Another lie. 

The anger grew as it bubbled in your gut; it was close to a rolling boil. The steam is building, creating pressure. 

“Cut the shit, Parker. I know you weren’t mugged, and I know you weren’t on your damn skateboard. Why won’t you tell me what happened? Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not-”

“Yes, you are! Just tell me!”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

He looked at you like it pained him to say it. As if in some way, he knew how this hurts you, and it hurt him too. But he couldn’t know. He couldn’t understand. 

“Peter, I’m kinda losing my mind here. I mean, you are always late or busy, but it’s never with your job. I’ve caught you several times using May as an excuse, not realising that I was with her. And if you do show up, you’re covered in bruises. You have scars that you can’t explain. And anytime I ask about any of it I get vague, nonsensical answers. Why? Why can’t you tell me what’s going on? I wish you could be honest with me.”

His face falls. You see the guilt flash across his face for the briefest of moments, but then it’s gone, replaced by an expression of faux ire as he stands from the couch. He stands up straighter, his shoulders squared and fists balled at his sides. It was a defensive stance, and he fell into it so naturally, you wondered how often he did.

“Tell me this: Why’d you stick around; why’d you stay with me? If you know I’m lying, why?”

If you didn’t know him, you would have been hurt by his tone, filled with disdain and contempt. But you knew Peter Parker. He was trying to push you away again.

He would go through these cycles where he would shower you in adoration, tell you that you were perfect and amazing, and how he was so lucky to have you. But then he would freak out. He would ghost you and act distant. When you could finally pin him down, he would confess that he felt he didn’t deserve you or the love you poured out for him.

The fact that he was doing it now frustrated you to no end. You could feel your hair greying.

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! Jesus, Peter, I love you. And I knew you had some issues, but no one is perfect. And I’m not asking you to be. I’m just asking for you to be truthful with me. And if you can’t do that, I’m asking for an explanation. What am I doing wrong? How do I fix this, Peter? Please, give me something, anything!”

You were pulling at your hair, on the verge of tears. Your breathing erratic. You felt like you were going to explode; your atoms were seconds from throwing off electrons left and right until they all decayed and left you in a pile of mush.

“What- You’re not doing anything wrong, okay? You’re great, amazing even. It’s not you.”

Peter placed his hands on yours, pulling them away from your head and placing them over his heart. You steady your breaths in time with his.

“Then why? Why do you lie to me, Peter?”

“It’s to keep you safe.”

“Safe from what? What are you running from?”

“Look, I can’t. I can’t tell you, alright? I can’t put you in danger like that.”

It was Peter’s turn to tense and your turn to soothe.

“Hey, we’re in this together. We’re supposed to grow and learn and chase our dreams together.” You intertwined your fingers and bring them to your lips. “ Peter, if you're in danger I want to know. Let me help you, please.”

Something in Peter snaps. His eyes are now cold as he pushes your hands away, taking a step back. If he had walls up before, you were now looking at a fortress. Fort Knox. Castle Rock. 

“You. Can’t. Help. Me.” He spoke the words with finality. “Do you hear me? I don’t want your help.”

You felt his words rip and tear through you, taking part of you with them. A deep cut by a serrated blade. You did your best to apply pressure to the wound, to keep going- to make him see. 

“But that’s what you do. When you love someone, you help them. You do it all the time, whether it’s carrying my groceries up the stairs when the elevator’s down. Or when you run me a bath after a stressful day-”

“That’s different, (Y/n).” You shake your head furiously.

“No. No, it’s not. You help me because you love me. Let me do the same.” You’re pleading with him at this point; your dignity lone gone. 

Peter looks to the ground and says nothing. You feel your heart sink; he says nothing. “Peter?”

Still nothing. “Peter?”

You feel like you might vomit. “Do you…Do you love me?”

Your ears are ringing in the silence. He finally lifts his head, and his eyes are rimmed with tears, but still, he says nothing. 

His hesitation kills you. This is it. This is your end. Peter Parker doesn’t love you. The last bit of hope in you fades, and you feel hollow. His love had died, and so have you. The revelation is almost enough to bring you to your knees. 

“I couldn’t save it,” You whisper so faintly one might mistake it for a draft from a leaky window. “I couldn’t save it.”

You cry. Hadn’t really done that in front of Peter before. You’ve teared up sure, maybe had one or two slip, but this was something else. This was a steady stream down both cheeks. This was raspy gasps from your chest. This was ugly. 

And Peter just stood there. 

You collapsed onto the couch as you started to shake. You felt like everything was falling apart. If you thought your heart had been suffering before, you were wrong. It had now been obliterated.

There were no shards or mess, only a plume of smoke and a singed cavity where the muscle once was. It burned and burned, eating itself alive until there was nothing left.

You wondered if this is what stars felt- this fear, this betrayal- before they succumb to their own crushing gravity, exploding with a grand flourish…and then nothing. 

You wiped your face. He had lied to you for the last time. You held no sympathy for him. You found it hard to believe that he didn’t love you, but if you were right, what does that say about Peter? He was deeply hurt. You saw glimpses of it when Peter would lose you in the store, when he would wake you up with a night terror, when he lied. You loved him, for better or for worse, you did. But you couldn’t do this; you deserved better. 

You stand and grab your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. You make it across the floor and to the front door before Peter says anything.

“Wait, where are you going?”

You bite your tongue, holding back as many scathing comments as you can. Most of them call him out for pushing you away and being upset when it works. But instead, you settle on something else, something you think is a little nicer. 

“I hope you find a way to be yourself someday.”

When you look back at him, he looks like he’s seconds from shattering. But maybe once he falls apart, he can build himself back up. You hope he does. 

“I pray for the best for you, Peter.” And that was true. Even as you shut the door behind you, even as you silenced his notifications on your phone, even when your friends shit on him- trying to make you feel better. You hoped that he would get the best life had to offer. You hoped it would be a little kinder to him.

Taglist: @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @djdre92, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz

[a-moth-to-the-light]

Current Top Ten 2NE1 Songs

Okay, I mentioned "Gotta Be You" a little while ago, and I've been streaming 2NE1's discography nonstop since then. So now I have to impulse-write this one, because I forgot how much I love their music and I absolutely must screech about it!! I think EXID is my favorite second-gen group, actually, but 2NE1 is a very close second--they have the kind of star power that I'm completely in awe of. I got into 2NE1 in 2020, via Angelina from ktube, so I've never experienced a comeback from them (though let's just say Park Bom's "Do Re Mi Fa Sol" took over my life for a good while when it came out), but I've still made so many memories with their music over the past four years & have plenty to say about it!

1. Gotta Be You

One of those perfect pop songs--it's almost four minutes long (cue the cheering from fifth-gen stans!!), and each moment feels perfectly engineered to be a dopamine rush all on its own. It's bright and full of life, and even after four years of being a mainstay on my playlists, I still find myself obsessing over this one.

2. Fire

This could easily be my favorite debut ever, though I'd hate to overlook Lucy's "Flowering" like that! The 2NE1 ladies are SO commanding in this song, and it's crammed full of hooks that have stood the test of time. Even with its quilted-together approach to song structure, "Fire" is pretty much infinitely danceable & never feels jarring. It's a similar style of campy dance-pop to 4Minute's debut with "Hot Issue" (which I also love), but "Fire" is constructed so much more carefully--it has an incessant energy that "Hot Issue" doesn't, and it shows off 2NE1's capabilities so impressively!

3. Lonely

This is definitely the most obvious pick here--of course "Lonely" is in the top three. For newbies: before Blackpink's "Stay", there was 2NE1's "Lonely". This one is such an easy listen, a comforting ballad that never tests your patience. Its hook isn't a big final chorus that you have to wait for, it's the steady presence of the chorus throughout the song that's so simple, yet so satisfying. Though this may not be what you expect from a hit 2NE1 song, it's iconic in its own way.

4. Come Back Home - Unplugged Ver.

If you've ever heard me talk about Blackpink's "Whistle - Acoustic Ver", this should come as no surprise! These two songs occupy similar spaces in my mind. I love that we got this unplugged version, without the beat drop, because it really gives the sadness and longing of "Come Back Home" room to breathe. And the 2NE1 ladies really take advantage of that, too--their line deliveries are crammed with interesting details that really make this track special. Also, CL's rap over acoustic guitar is such a highlight.

5. It Hurts (I usually listen to the Japanese version!)

Yes, this is the third ballad in a row, sorry! This one took me a while to get, but now I'm wailing "YOU'RE NOT MINE ANYMORE !!!!!" right along with them. This whole song is one really slow build, so it took me a while to find the patience for it--but the payoff, with those big emotive high notes, is so worth it.

6. Scream

You really have to look past the second-gen cringe for this one, but I'm more than willing, because "Scream" has quite a bit of depth to it behind that grating post-chorus. This is the best use of Park Bom's vocals like, ever, I think--she sets the chorus on fire. And that bridge is heavenly; after CL's first "I fell in love", my heart melts.

7. Don't Cry (Park Bom solo)

This song saved a friendship for me once, funny enough. I know not everyone loves Park Bom's voice as much as I do--she doesn't have the range of abilities that a lot of other vocalists do, so I get it--but I find her performance here, paired with that fuzzy early-2010's production, just so wonderfully soothing.

8. Ugly

A once-in-a-generation kind of chorus, and 2NE1 have the vocals to back it up.

9. Falling in Love

Yeah, sue me, "Falling in Love" is in the top ten. This is trash, sure, but it's exactly my kind of trash. For being as annoying as it is, this song has some legitimately gorgeous vocal sections, too (what is this, an NCT song?). Like, Minzy's voice in the verses? Oh my god. And CL's first-verse rap may well be 2NE1's best--it's fast-paced but sooo catchy, it flows easily but has quite a bit of kick to it. In conclusion, I can see how people think this is an absolute abomination, but I've never had a bad time listening to it--and I listen to it a lot, believe it or not!

10. Please Don't Go (CL & Minzy)

After I heard the chorus once, I knew I'd never be able to stay away from this song. Be warned: the second-gen cringe is strong here, so this won't be for everyone, but CL & Minzy really perform the hell out of it--they bring "Please Don't Go" some clarity, and it ends up a really addictive pop anthem! And that final chorus, when the vocals (the HARMONIES!!!) get to take center stage?? This song is a gem, truly.

Honorable Mentions: You & I (Park Bom solo), Hate You, Missing You, I am the best (obligatory), I Love You, Hello Bitches (CL solo), Spring (Park Bom & Dara), Lovely (Minzy solo) (there's also a Tagalog version of this one, which is so cool!)

[vrnvuld]

Louise Glück, Seizure

Andrea Salvatori, Testone

Mikko Harvey, Wind-Related in the Wheatfield

Jane Austen, Letters

Ruth Awad, In the gloaming, in the roiling night

Anne Sexton, A Self Portrait in Letters

Eden Robinson, Writing Prompts for the Broken-hearted

this is like a massive post because this is also our final farnauld playlist that's made of four parts. it's meant to tell their full story <3 can't say we really expect anyone to read through this or even check the songs but if someone wants a really weird playlist, u can listen to it here xx

ACT I: WE JUST PLAY ALONG, COME ON, COME ON

001. TRY TRY TRY --- RACHAEL SAGE. 002. I’M NOT CALLING YOU A LIAR --- FLORENCE + THE MACHINE. 003. COME ON --- WHITE LIES. 004. ON DIRECTING --- TEGAN & SARA. 005. POISON --- VAULTS.  006. EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE --- DENMARK + WINTER. 007. CANDLES --- DAUGHTER. 008. WICKED TEETH --- CIARAN LAVERY. 009. AFFECTION --- AMBER RUN.

this is the part where they get together. they're off-balance. he's playing his own game and she's trying to make everything work together. this is the first time cracks begin to form within the croÿ ranks. this part of the playlist is a mixture of songs that are fairly dark. the most notable lyrics can be found in ' poison ': " we both know you're sweet and blind / palm struck on the floor // won't you let me poison your heart ? ". isa posted this part of the playlist years ago and it's here x.

ACT II: THERE'S HISTORY IN A SCAR

010. PURGE --- ALLIE X. 011. WE USED TO LAUGH / 9 TO 9 --- FLORA CASH. 012. HYENA --- THE EDITORS. 013. LIFFEY --- PILLOW QUEENS. 014. SPIDERS --- THE EDITORS. 015. TIME COMES IN ROSES --- BESS ATWELL. 016. I'M NOT YOURS --- ANGUS & JULIA STONE. 017. PETRICHOR --- KEATON HENSON.

this would be the post-break up era. their numerous conversations and arnauld's relentless bullying. the wounds were raw, incredibly so and arnauld had a need to show her the mistake she had made by cutting him so. fanni on the other hand struggled between feeling proud of her decision and knowing she had let go of more than just a person she loved: it was the opportunity to build a life outside of her family. both of them tormented each other just by existing. it was difficult to hate someone you loved. it was difficult to despise someone you had known so well. the sensitivity eventually made space for some sort of a relationship. they could hold conversations. they could blackmail each other and remind the other how deep their knowledge of the other went. the first two songs most certainly represent fanni and her struggles. in ' purge ' we get the lines: " you went anyway, but all of your chains / and ropes holding me stayed in place " and " every word you told me left such a rancid taste in my mouth / i can't purge you ". we had ' we used to laugh / 9 to 9 " on every edit back in 2019. it was such a perfect song for them at that time. " you said i won't ever leave your side no one else is worth my while no one else is worth my while were you like that all the time ? did you repeat this from 9 to 9 ? never come back never come back you put a hole in and opened up my heart put me down in my darkest dark we used to laugh we used to laugh " then we have the editors songs that got chosen for the darkness. arnauld was doing his best to get fanni to beg for forgiveness. the bitterness was felt constantly. ' liffey ' on the other hand is arnauld's realization that he's not in charge of himself or the situation. he is absolutely ruined and she holds far too much power — it's not just arnauld who knows secrets and ways to manipulate the other, fanni's just as capable !

ACT III: WHEN I LOSE MY HEAD, I LOSE MY SPINE

018. COOL ABOUT IT --- BOYGENIUS. 019. LUCKY FOR YOU --- NOVO AMOR, GIA MARGARET. 020. I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY --- GRACIE ABRAMS. 021. DAYDREAMS --- EXES. 022. SEABED --- NANNA. 023. LATE NIGHT TALKS --- DEPORTEES. 024. HEAVENLY --- CIGARETTES AFTER SEX 025. HOPELESS WANDERER --- MUMFORD & SONS. 026. THAT'S WHEN ( TV ) --- TAYLOR SWIFT.

this part is about their healing journey. when the mind games stopped. when it was just two people. a fairly wholesome part in their story. they had affection for one another and perhaps for the first time they did not have some role to play. it was just friendship ( or at least as platonic a relationship as it could be between these two ). some codependency issues existed, of course. fanni needed a shoulder. arnauld liked being needed by her. ' late night talks ' is possibly the most spot on song in part iii. in it we get: " the phone rings / in the middle of the night / i can tell you're upset / i'm here / and i'm ready to work ". ' seabed ' is incredibly touching too and probably our favourite track. it's a good peek into fanni's fragile state of mind. " and you caught me off guard, and / i was never lonely / but now i'm feeling like an only child / let me sink into you arms / you're the ocean floor / i guess i just needed that ". the songs in this section are vulnerable and beautiful. ' lucky for you ' has a line that made it earn its spot: " and i'm not what i thought i would be without you ".

ACT IV: I'VE OUTGROWN THE PAST

027. I WANT YOU --- MO. 028. YOU'RE SO COOL --- NICOLE DOLLANGANGER. 029. LIGHTS CHANGING COLOR --- STARS. 030. LIVING ROOM, NY --- LAURA STEVENSON. 031. SIGNAL FIRE --- SNOW PATROL. 032. BLOODCLOT / ANDVAKA --- NANNA. 033. CRACK THE SHUTTERS --- SNOW PATROL. 033. SEND FOR ME --- THE NATIONAL. 034. THIS LAND IS MINE --- DIDO. 035. THIS LOVE (TV) --- TAYLOR SWIFT. 036. I WILL FOLLOW YOU INTO THE DARK --- MIYA FOLICK. 037. COSMIC LOVE --- FLORENCE + THE MACHINE. 038. SHALLOWS --- DAUGHTER.

this is the happily-ever-after part because they've been so sad for such a long time. we seriously considered not having them end up together but they deserve each other <3 <3 this section has love songs but we managed to sprinkle a few darker ones too because fanni and arnauld have never been simple and sweet. ' this love ' is probably the stand out song, it seems so fitting ! i mean c'mon: " this love is alive back from the dead / these hands had to let it go free, and / this love came back to me ". not to make things too cheesy though we have ' lights changing color ', which is by no means a negative song but it's more about staying out of one's head and, well, happy ! " when you find that the ones that keep you lifted / love them 'cause they keep you out of your head / they keep you out of your head / they keep you steady ". the songs are quite mellow and sound pretty fragile in a sense, save for a few tracks. the last two songs are more abstract. ' cosmic love ' is possibly one of the most beautiful songs on this playlist and to ever exist. i can see their devotion to each other growing into something blinding. this maybe relates to fanni more, she seems more likely to make love and her life with arnauld the only thing she surrounds herself with. there's just that and nothing else. but... arnauld is not too far from this state. he'll be able to reason with himself and he has his duties, but considering how recklessly he acts all things fanni... " i took the stars from my eyes and then i made a map / and knew that somehow i could find my way back / then i heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too / so i stayed in the darkness with you... " the playlist ends with ' shallows ' because it was so serene. serene and hauntingly beautiful. it's a sister-song to ' i will follow you into the dark '. when one parts from this world, will the other come find them when it's time ?

[skepticalcatfrog]

My Secret Shanghai Playlist

Finally, the playlist is FINISHED! I gathered all the songs a while ago, the reason it took this long is because I wanted to make a nice cover for it, which I did! See above.

Click here for the playlist!

Now when I say "finished", I don't believe any playlist is ever REALLY finished. I may add songs later on, and if I do, I'll add them to this post! I'm also always open to suggestions.

As promised, under the cut I'll be putting brief descriptions of why I added each song! If you want a full, line-by-line analysis, I definitely encourage you to send an ask about any specific songs to my inbox!

~~~

Song List:

1. Chinese Satellite by Phoebe Bridgers - Everyone already knows my feelings about this song and OVE-era Benedikt (if they looked at this other post I made that is).

2. Stiletto by Billy Joel - Again, if anyone looked at this second other post I made they'll know why this is Roma and Juliette, but SPECIFICALLY from Benedikt's POV.

3. Killer by Phoebe Bridgers - This is Roma and Juliette, specifically in TVD/OVE (see also the drawing I made inspired by this if you so choose).

4. Salt in The Wound by boygenius - This is Rosalind and Dimitri to me, they may also appear again later in this list.

5. Eat Your Young by Hozier - I mean. I feel as though this is quite obvious if you've heard the song.

6. The Bomb by Florence and the Machine - See, as I said up above, this one is Rosalind and Dimitri once again.

7. Wish That You Were Here by Florence and the Machine - I've posted about this before too, not in as much detail, but this one is Benedikt and Marshall to me, specifically in early OVE.

8. Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers - This is on here for Juliette, I need to go in depth about this someone PLEASE ask me about it.

9. Please Stay by Lucy Dacus - If you read my fic you already know, this is on here for Benedikt and Marshall.

10. Abstract (Psychopomp) by Hozier - Honestly this one is on here for pure vibes, feel free to match it specifically with whoever you like.

11. Queen of Peace by Florence and the Machine - It's possible that this one may not fit EXACTLY exactly, but it just really gives Celia to me and there are enough lines in the song to prove it.

12. Dream Girl Evil by Florence and the Machine - Again, this is Rosalind and Dimitri, I know this is happening a lot but it's because I listen to just enough songs about messed up relationships.

13. This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race by Fallout Boy - This one is also on here for pure vibes, it just works very well.

14. Sedated by Hozier - This one is sooooooo FLF/FHH, I don't make the rules.

15. Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons - This is Roma to me, in the way I interpret this song and these lyrics.

16. No Choir by Florence and the Machine - I've also posted about this but I don't think many people saw it, this gives me sooooo Roma and Juliette after they flee the city.

17. Dinner and Diatribes by Hozier - Roma and Juliette. I have no explanation for this other than how antisocial Roma is and how absolutely horrendously they want each other throughout the entire series but specifically LVC.

18. Hospital Beds by Florence and the Machine - This song can be associated with so many things in these books that I will simply let YOU choose what it means.

19. Alone Together by Fall Out Boy - This gives me many feelings about the main four in TVD and where they all end up after the two books.

20. Fourth of July by Fall Out Boy - This one is for Roma and Juliette, specifically in OVE when their relationship has become infinitely more complicated.

21. The Calendar by Panic! At The Disco - This one is on here for OVE-era Roma and his conflicting feelings about Juliette.

22. Hungover in the City of Dust by Autoheart - Dear god this song is so good, and it's here for my beloved Benedikt, once again in his depression era.

23. Share Your Address by Ben Platt - I feel like this one could be very sweet for Rosalind and Orion, from his POV. I just like it for them.

24. New Invention by IDKHOW - If you like Orion Hong and you want to feel MISERABLE about him, this is the song for you I promise.

25. Guns for Hire by Woodkid - Another pure vibes one. Give it a listen.

26. My Immortal by Evanescence - This is another one that I feel could have a number of interpretations, but to me it is Benedikt Montagov (in early OVE, obviously).

27. Wouldn't It Be Nice by The Beach Boys - An unconventional choice, I know, but I put this here for Roma and Juliette, because wouldn't it be nice?

28. Romeo & Juliet by Peter McPoland - I mean. Come on.

29. Vienna by Billy Joel - Again, so many interpretations, choose your own adventure.

30. Francesca by Hozier - I don't know if this is more romajuliette, more benmars, more rosorion, or more olivercelia. Obviously I lean towards benmars (you know me) but there's evidence for all of them

31. I Love You Too by Peter McPoland - This one is for Oliver and Celia, in honor of that one scene in FHH. You know the one.

32. Back to December by Taylor Swift - Thinking about romajuliette to this song makes me incredibly sad so it goes on the playlist.

33. peace by Taylor Swift - Again. Romajuliette. I'm right.

34. Ease My Mind by Ben Platt - This is benmars to me and no one can change my mind.

35. Run Away by Ben Platt - Think of this as Roma and Juliette and if you don't become deeply emotional I don't know what to say to you.

36. Absinthe by IDKHOW - Pure. Vibes.

37. Bleed Magic by IDKHOW - I dare you to listen to this song and NOT think it's FLF.

38. I Wish I Was by The Avett Brothers - Something about this just feels like olivercelia to me in a way I can't describe.

39. Marjorie by Taylor Swift - Imagining this as Alisa after Roma “dies” made me very emotional so I had to add this one.

40. Just A Girl by Florence and the Machine (or whichever version you prefer, but this cover is my favorite) - I feel like if I say Phoebe Hong I won't need to explain more.

41. Things We Lost in the Fire by Bastille - This definitely gives OVE to me in a major way.

42. Mermaids by Florence and the Machine - Okay this song does reference England twice but if you just ignore that then the vibes are ON POINT for specifically TVD.

43. Out of the Woods by Taylor Swift - Chloe Gong herself said this is Benedikt, so I must add it.

44. Jump Then Fall by Taylor Swift - Same as above, but for Marshall.

45. mirrorball by Taylor Swift - Again, same as above, for Celia this time.

46. Murder in the City by The Avett Brothers - Just the very first verse of this is Marshall to me, but the rest of it (give or take a few lines) is very Roma.

47. Soon You'll Get Better by Taylor Swift - WHATEVER YOU DO, don't imagine this as Roma visiting Alisa in the hospital in TVD.

48. Hunger by Florence and the Machine - This is very very TVD duology Rosalind.

49. ivy by Taylor Swift - I know this song is about infidelity, but through another lens, it's actually about romajuliette.

50. Safe & Sound by Taylor Swift - This is here for TVD/OVE Alisa and her only.

51. Honest Man by Ben Platt - Sooooooo rosorion.

52. Agoraphobia by Autoheart - This song is Benedikt to me, not in any particular instance just in general.

As I said above, I 1000% encourage you to ask for more details about any songs you're curious about! I'm happy to discuss. Enjoy!

53. Impossible Year by Panic! at the Disco - This is really everyone at the beginning of OVE, but I put it here specifically for Roma.

54 (Addition #1). Love From The Other Side by Fall Out Boy - This is romajuliette in the TVD/OVE era.

[duckadee]

it’s been a while, but i have returned! i had a good time finding songs for this prompt (memories/nostalgia), and maybe i got a little teary/sappy when i was compiling the playlists and writing my thoughts down. i guess their story just does that to me, haha. the power of friendship got to me! honestly, this theme and the one after it were the most impactful for me. now, onto the list!

Somewhere Only We Know by Keane

My Old Friend by Sam Amidon

7 Years by Lukas Graham

Turn the Lights Back On by Billy Joel

This Town by Niall Horan

Least Complicated by Indigo Girls

Four Strong Winds by Neil You g

here’s the playlist, and my thoughts are under the cut!

Four Strong Winds

I didn’t really have any specific lyrics from this song, but I wanted to talk about it anyway. To me, this song is about holding onto hope that a relationship can survive and evolve into something new even though it seems over. Similar to how Ian and Anthony’s relationship had to dissolve so that it could change and come back better.

My Old Friend

Honestly, these lines made me think of so many things. Ian keeping the pictures of him and Anthony up, Anthony getting teary eyed over realizing that his childhood best friend was still there, the fact that they’ve known each other since 6th grade… Additionally, I like the last line here: ‘We’ll meet again, my old friend’. It’s sort of like a seed being planted, that eventually grows into them reuniting years later.

Turn the Lights Back On

I’ve actually had this song in my back pocket for a bit; I heard it when I came out and thought, ‘That sounds like an ianthony song, I should do something with it,’ and then I forgot about it. Until now!

This part ties back into the prompt for the first day (resentment). It represents how the resentment has changed over time into guilt, and then into acceptance, and finally into forgiveness and love. ALSO, it got me thinking about how Ian and Anthony never really stopped caring about each other, even with other emotions clouding their view for a little bit.  I’ll have to look for it, but it reminds me of an ianthony post that said something like, “love doesn’t die, but it can rot”. I’ve been thinking about that ever since I read it months ago.