#iceman is wondering why he married this man

[missunderstood-with-ideas]

Goose: Do you ever think before you do something?

Maverick: nope I like being just as surprised as everyone else

Iceman: mav wtf

Maverick: the enemies can’t know my next move if I don’t know my next move either

[dragon-kazansky]

Love of my life

Gender neutral reader

Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky x Reader

Tom hadn't told his fellow pilots he's a married man. There's great satisfaction when he witnesses their reactions after you do it for him.

♡♡♡

Loved ones had come to spend time with their Navy officers. After being away from them for so long, everyone was excited to spend time with their loved ones. This was the first visit since Tom joined Top Gun. 

While everyone was gathering at the O to introduce friends to their families, no one had seen Kazansky at all. Maverick had questioned it when he noticed Iceman wasn’t at the gathering with them. Goose just shrugged and made a comment about how he was probably just too busy to meet anyone’s family. Carole had given Goose a smack on the shoulder and he just kissed her.

As the next round of drinks came in, the door to the bar opened. No one took much notice until a familiar face made his way over to the table. Goose gives Maverick a nudge on the shoulder and nods over to where Iceman was approaching.

Slider saw Ice and got up to greet him. The smiles at one another and talked, but the other two couldn’t hear what was being said. They could, however, see the person beside Ice. He had his arm around their shoulders. He seemed to be introducing them to Slider.

“Who is that?”

“I have no idea,” Pete said, watching curiously.

The Top Gun program started weeks ago. They’d all be training hard and getting to know one another. Ice had never mentioned anyone close to him outside of the Navy. Maverick was curious.

Slider says something to the pair of you and walks toward the bar. You look up at Ice and smile at him. Kazansky smiles back, guiding you the rest of the way to his fellow pilots.

The pair of you stand at the end of the table. Everyone is looking up at Ice.

“Evening,” Tom greets casually. One arm was still resting around your shoulders, the other removes his sunglasses from his face and tucks them away.

“You’re late,” Goose states, eyes on you rather than Tom.

“Sorry, we’ve been busy,” Kazansky comments, lips curling into a smirk.

You bite your bottom lip as you tuck your face into his shirt, trying to hide your blushing cheeks. You feel Tom’s chuckle vibrate through his chest as he gives you a gentle squeeze.

Maverick chuckles into his drink at the implication of what you two having been up to today. He looks at you with a friendly smile after putting his drink down.

“Did he pick you up to be his date so he wouldn’t show up alone?” Mav asks, wondering what game Ice was playing.

When Tom’s face falls and he glares at Mav, Pete knows he crossed a line there. Maverick looks at you and then back at Ice.

“Wait, who is this?” He asks, looking up at Kazansky.

“He told me he hadn’t told anyone,” you say, grabbing Maverick’s attention. You see that he’s all the more confused. “Tom is my husband.”

Goose chokes on his drink. Carole pats his back and tries to soothe him.

Maverick stare blankly at Ice.

Slider comes back with drinks in hand. He puts the drinks down and looks around at each of you. He had clearly missed something here.

“Husband?” Goose asks, having caught his breath. He still looked a bit red in the face.

“Yeah, problem with that, Bradshaw?” Tom eyes him.

Goose shakes his head.

“You’re married?” Pete asks, drawing the attention back to him.

“Why is that so surprising to you?” Tom asks. You reach for his hand and hold it.

“I just didn’t have any clue. You don’t wear a ring or talk about them.”

“I have a ring. Just because I’m not wearing it doesn’t mean it isn’t on me,” Tom tells him. You smile as you place a hand over his chest, right over his heart.

“He keeps it in his pocket, over his heart, right here,” you pat his chest. “So I’m always close to him, even when we’re so far apart.”

Tom smiles softly at you.

Pete smiles at the sight.

“Who knew.”

The boys move and make room for the pair of you. Tom lets you sit down first, sitting next to Slider. He sits down beside you, his arm finding refuge around you once more. You each reach for one of the drinks Slider had brought, and settle back to enjoy the evening.

You ease yourself into the conversations no problem. Goose and Carole spend a lot of time talking to you, finding out easily how you managed to melt the Iceman’s heart.

Tom just looks at you with so much love and pride.

When Tom had mentioned to you that you would be able to come and stay near the base to be closer to him while he did his training, you asked him if he was sure he wanted you to be there. He smiled down the phone and said, “I want nothing more.”

You had caught an earlier flight so he could meet you without risking bumping into the other pilots. Tom wanted you all to himself for a while. You had never ran so fast in your life. When you got off that plane and saw Tom standing there, waiting for you, you ran into his waiting arms and kissed him.

Tom had taken you back to where you would be staying. Neither on of you left that house. He had leaned in close and whispered into your ear about making use of the bed. You had laughed, but you had waited long enough to have him again.

The pair of you had been in that bed for hours.

You lean into Tom’s side. It’s late by this point. You had both been here with others. You mingled with some of the partners and siblings of the other pilots. Plenty of drinks had been delivered to his table. You rest your head against your husband’s shoulder and smile softly.

“You alright?” He asks, whispering right into your ear.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling softly. There wasn’t much left of your drink now. You decided, while looking at the contents at the bottom of the glass, that this would be your last one.

A kiss is pressed gently to the side of your head. You turn your face up to look at your husband. He has this gentle smile on his face. Beautiful eyes are looking at you.

“We should get back,” you say, speaking quietly.

Tom presses a kiss to your nose.

“To sleep or carry on where we left off?” He grins.

You smack his chest lightly.

“Sleep. We still have a few days don’t we?” You ask, smiling.

“We do.”

“So we can finish today’s activities tomorrow. I’m tired and ready for bed. It’s been weeks since I got sleep with my husband beside me,” you pout softly.

Tom steals a kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

“The nights are lonely without you, but it means I treasure our nights together all the more. Finish your drink, I’ll call us a ride back.”

You kiss once more and let go of him so he can go call a cab. As you finish your drink, you see Mitchell looking at you again. You smile at him.

“It was nice meeting you,” you tell him.

Pete smiles, “the honour was mine. It’s nice to see him with someone that makes him seem so much more... human.”

You smile.

“We should all meet up again before the break ends. It would be nice to spend some more time together as a group,” you suggest.

“I’ll talk to Goose about it tomorrow. Have a safe trip home,” Pete says, seeing Ice coming back.

You turn back to your husband as he comes over. He reaches for your hand and you let him take it, grabbing anything you had with you before getting up from the table. You bid everyone a goodnight and head outside to wait for your cab.

As you stand outside of the bar, Tom wraps both his arms around you, holding you close.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers.

“Me too, Tom. Me too.”

You share another kiss. One of many of that night.

There was no greater feeling than being right there with you, the love of his life. His job was dangerous and took him away from home for months at a time, but you were both OK. You would wait for him always.

He would always come home to you. He promised.

[mads-nixon]

Post-War Harry Welsh Headcannons

Harry Welsh x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS @iceman-kazansky!! Gift two, here! I hope you like it!! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog! Enjoy!

When he gets home, the first thing he does is marry you.

It's in a courthouse because it was the quickest way, and there were only a few members of both of your families there.

That night sure was one to remember.

I feel like Harry would be so so so excited to carry you across the threshold of your house for the first time. Adorable™️

Husband Harry would be the most attentive ever, I'm convinced.

After being away from you for so long, he tends to follow you like a lost puppy. Every now and then, you have to send him on some errands to get him out of the house.

When he was in the army, he always knew what he was supposed to do, but once he was home, he was uncertain of what do to. He didn't have a job for a little bit while he got accustomed to civilian life again. In the meantime, he was dedicated to being a loving husband.

Everyone knows Harry is a little bit of a wild child ("we're in a dell" and mr. jumps into Johnny's foxhole without saying the codeword) and he has a lot of energy.

When he gets a job as a teacher, it gives him an opportunity to engage with his students and get that energy out.

The first day he comes home from teaching, he goes on and on about each one of his students and how each of his lessons went.

He gets so excited, and you just love the way his eyes light up when he tells stories as you sit on the couch with him

(i have a feeling he teaches junior high history...but you decide which, though!)

"This little shithead in my second period asked how to do the writing assignment five seconds after I got done explaining it."

You just bust out laughing and ask, "And what did you do?"

"Well," he grinned. "I explained it again, even though I just wanted to slap the kid. What else was I supposed to do?"

You lean your head on his shoulder with a chuckle. "You could always use your army training and put the fear of God in them. Then they'd listen to you for sure, hon."

"True," Harry began, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you against him. "But after beating a few dictators in Europe, I'd rather not be a dictator in my own classroom. I want the kids to enjoy learning."

"You already sound like the best teacher those kids will have, Mr. Welsh," you whisper, smiling up at him.

"Why thank you, Mrs. Welsh."

He shoots you his signature toothy grin before leaning down and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"Maybe you could teach our kid someday," you wonder aloud, hoping he will catch your drift.

"Oh yeah, that would be fun."

"Well, you've got about 11 years until you have the chance to."

He's confused for a second, his brows furrowed. "Why 11?"

You place a hand on your stomach. "Because that's how long until our baby will be in junior high, Harry."

The man is even more confused. "What baby?"

"Harry," you chuckle, the biggest smile painting your lips. "I'm pregnant. We're having a baby."

THIS MAN. I'M CONVINCED HE'D ALMOST PASS OUT FROM EXCITEMENT. EYES WIDE...JAW DROPPED

"We're gonna be parents?"

Pulling his stunned figure into a hug, you rub his back gently, holding back tears. "Yeah, we're gonna be parents, honey."

[callsignthirsty]

Hi please would you write an iceman x reader and hes her first ❤ thank u

He ran away and never came back. You remained a virgin until your death. The end.

Nah. I’m just teasing.

Sorry this took so long for me to get around to. I hope that you like it.

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader Word Count: 5000 Warnings: Smut, virgin!reader, maybe slight OOCness Minors DNI

Good Advice

It had been a typical Friday night, spent over drinks with his RIO and his girl. Or, he hoped you were still his girl after this. Actually — were you ever?

You'd grown up around each other, leapfrogging from base to base as military brats do. There'd always been something there, but neither of you had been in the same place long enough to partake in more than flirty words and stolen glances. Truthfully, Ice had been excited to see you again. When the stars and Navy aligned to bring the two of you back together — him a student at Top Gun and you a registered nurse.

Old routines are hard to break.

It felt natural to fall back into those glances, but there was nothing to stop either of you this time. Too-long brushes of fingers became an arm across your shoulders became his arm around your waist became his lips on yours on more than one occasion.

It was nice to be together like that after all the years spent wondering what if.

You were all over each other in the backseat of Ice's car when you hit him with a sighed confession: "I've never done this before." And honestly, the thought had never even crossed Ice's mind, so he chuckled. Genuinely thought that you were joking until he caught the look in your eyes that said you were as serious as the heart attack you nearly gave him. So Ice had done the only logical thing:

Got out of the car without saying a single goddamn thing and walked out of The O Club's parking lot into the setting sun.

* * *

Ice has walked all the way from the O Club to the line of houses that he and the other Top Gun students have been assigned, but it isn't his own door that he's standing in front of.

He knocks before he can chicken out, and he waits.

"Ice?"

"Goose."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ice supposes the question is fair enough. Ice has only stepped foot in Slider's assignment despite multiple invitations to Wolf's, 'wood's, and Goose's. Not that he didn't like Goose — everyone liked Goose — he just preferred to steer clear of his pilot.

The thought of Maverick has Ice hesitating. The last thing he wants is for this to reach the wrong ears, and god knows that Maverick will never let him live this down if he catches wind of it. "Is Mitchell here?"

"No." Goose's brows furrow. "Why? Are you okay, man?"

Ice nods. "Can I come in?"

Goose gets out of the way so Ice can make himself comfortable on the standard issue couch with which all the housing assignments are decorated. Faced with the reality of his situation, Ice suddenly wishes he was anywhere else. But Ice likes you, and he cares about you enough to put himself through a bit of embarrassment to ensure he does right by you. And Bradshaw is married, so it stands that he'd be good at this emotional shit.

This knowledge, however, doesn't make his question any easier to spit out. In fact, every minute he sits on it, it gets exponentially more challenging to put into words. Because Ice is absolutely ashamed to admit that when you told him you were still a virgin and wanted him to be your first, he ran away.

That doesn't mean he likes the shit-eating grin on Goose's face when the words finally come tumbling out of him. God, he hopes he isn't as red as he feels.

"Aww," Goose teases. "The Iceman does have a heart. Just needed a little time to thaw out." And yeah. Maybe this was a bad idea. Ice fidgets in his seat, not entirely sure where to go from there. "Need advice on how to treat her right? That it?"

Ice is contemplating running from the house when a head of blonde hair pops out from around the wall that separates the living room from the kitchen. "Oh, Nick! Be nice. Can't you see the poor thing's terrified?"

"It's not every day we see Ice squirm," Goose says with a mischievous smile at his wife. "I was having fun."

"Well, I think it's sweet that he's askin'," she says, joining them in the living room. "Just be gentle, honey. Get her a pillow and go slow. As long as you're putting her first, everything'll be fine."

Ice breaks out of his shock with the realization that he and Goose aren't alone. Mrs. Bradshaw is there as well. "It's family weekend." And he's invited himself into Bradshaw's house. "I'll just go…." He's about to turn and leave as suddenly as he'd asked himself in, but his mother raised him better than that. He turns back to Goose's wife — Carole, if memory serves — and says: "I don't know how to thank you."

"Nonsense." Carole smiles, and dread settles in the pit of Ice's stomach when the same glint he's seen in Mav's and her husband's eyes lights her own. "Our babysitter fell through last minute." Not five minutes later, Bradley is on Ice's hip, and Carole's promising: "We'll be back in a couple hours."

So, Ice spends the night babysitting, which is so far from how he'd thought the night was going to go. It would've been funny if it had happened to anyone else, but it's him. It's nearly midnight when Goose and Carole return, the blonde woman picking Bradley up from where he's fallen asleep on the sofa and carrying him upstairs to bed. Ice shakes Goose's hand before he begins the long walk back to his car.

He drives by your house on the way back to his assignment. Your light is on, so he pulls up to the curb. Instinct tells him to go to you, smooth things over, and tell you that he's been an idiot, but instinct had also gotten him into this mess. No. Knocking on your door now would be adding insult to injury. So he goes home.

* * *

Ice has some nerve to show up at your door the following day, a bouquet of pink and white lilies clutched between his hands. Does he have any idea how embarrassed you were? Splayed shirtless across the backseat of his car as he'd run off like he was an Olympic sprinter and not a fighter pilot. You're about to give him a piece of your mind when—

"I'm sorry."

—he apologizes and shocks you into silence.

"Can I come in?"

The answer is on the tip of your tongue, but you don't think you've ever seen Ice apologize before. Instead of a bitter 'No, Tom. Now get out of my sight and take your stupidly gorgeous flowers with you,' you reach out to take the bouquet. "Let's put these in some water."

By the time you've found a vase and set the flowers on your coffee table, Ice has made himself exceedingly uncomfortable on the edge of your sofa.

"Last night," he starts once you sit opposite him on the other side of the coffee table, his hands clasped to keep from fidgeting, "you caught me by surprise." It's the truth. Ice hadn't imagined what you'd said could've been true. You're sweet and kind and beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to have you tucked beneath their arm. How you've reached your mid-twenties without sleeping with anyone is beyond him. "I shouldn't have walked away like that," he concedes. "But you- we-." He swallows, eyes locking with yours. "I was worried."

"Oh," you say. Of all the scenarios that ran through your head before and after your confession, a worried Iceman was not one of them.

"I care about you—" his words make your heart swell "—and I was worried that I wouldn't be good for you."

Getting up from your spot, you slide onto the cushion next to him until your knees knock, and you're cradling his face in your hands. "How could you be anything but good for me?" And Ice thinks there are so many reasons and ways, but none of that matters when you bring your lips to his in a gentle press.

"I'd still like to give this a go if you're not going to run away this time," you say, aiming for bold, but your cheeks dust pink.

"Are you sure?" You nod, and that's all the answer Ice needs. "Then I'm not going anywhere." You're smiling when you pull him into the next kiss, but Ice keeps it slow, almost chaste. "We should probably take this to the bedroom."

Ice wants to do this right, so he takes your hand in his and lets you lead him down the hall.

He stopped by the pharmacy on his way to your house and has everything the two of you could possibly need for this to go well. He sets it all on the bedside table before he steps in close, pressing your foreheads together as one of his hands finds the curve of your waist and rubs soothing circles there. He seems more nervous than you, standing with his lips so close to yours but not making a move to close the distance.

"It's just a kiss, Tom," you say with a smile. "We've done this part before."

"I know."

"We've done a lot of this part before." You press a peck to his lips. "Don't overthink it."

So Ice slots your lips together like you're at the O or in the backseat of his car. You both sigh into it, your eyes drifting shut as you let your hands wander and brush clothes aside to reveal soft skin.

Ice's shirt is on the floor when his fingers work on your blouse, his lips leaving tender kisses with each button undone until the fabric slips from your arms. Strong hands cup your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra, and you want to tear it off with each kiss Ice presses into your cleavage and back up your neck.

Ice's fingers take their time to return to your front when your bra hits the floor, goosebumps littered in their wake. You suck in a breath when he thumbs over a nipple.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes." Your answer is breathy, your lips seeking out his. Your skin sizzles everywhere it's pressed against Ice, but he's backing up. You're worried he's about to run for a split second, but the hot mouth on your nipple interrupts your whine for him to come back, a surprised moan tumbling out instead. "Oh god."

"You're so sensitive, aren't you?" he asks as a hand comes up to knead at your other breast, then he's ducking down to lick over your tit again. Wrapping his plush lips around the suddenly perky nipple. It's like he's lit a match, heat prickling along your chest, centering where his mouth applies slick, gentle pressure, unlike anything you've felt before. Barely-there teeth graze the sensitive bud, and your surprised jump earns you a chuckle. "Sorry, sweetheart." His tongue apologetic, whereas his tone is anything but. A whine spills from your kiss-stung lips as Ice's eyes meet yours. There's hardly any color left in them — pupils blown wide and eclipsing the blue with a rampant lust that makes your stomach turn in excitement.

"Honey," he purrs. His voice has a dry, raspy undercurrent that you're hopelessly enamored with. "You gonna make more of those sounds for me?" Ice asks as he stands upright, one hand massaging your chest as his other cups your cheek, bringing your lips close to his again. "I wanna know when I'm making you feel good."

You continue to undress each other in a similar fashion: one piece at a time as Ice leaves supple, slow kisses on every inch of your exposed skin, wordlessly conveying his adoration for every part of you until you're both down to your underwear. Then, he takes a step back, eyes a piercing blue as they rake over you.

You take the opportunity to climb onto the bed, eyes locked on his as his fingers dip below the waistline of his briefs and push them down his muscled thighs. You try to keep your eyes on his face, but they're drawn down, down, down past the defined 'V' of his hips to…

You flush red from the tips of your ears to your chest, but Ice isn't the least bit shy. Who would be with a body like that? And maybe you should've been more nervous, but when he joins you on the bed, you're itching to run your hands over him. Grab ahold of his broad shoulders. Drag your fingers over the hills and valleys of his front. You want to touch him, but you're not sure where to begin.

Ice rolls to the side as if he can sense your hesitance, leaning casually against your headboard. He opens his mouth — no doubt to offer you encouragement or ask if you're okay with this — but chokes on his words when you wrap a hand around him. Your eyes flicker to his dazed expression, a coquettish smile on your lips. "Is this right?" you ask as you give a light squeeze and feel him pulse in your hand.

You could get used to Ice's slack-jawed pleasure, the little groan he lets out as his head tips back and his eyes slip close. "Y-yeah," he manages to say after a moment. "You could do this, too." His hand rests over the top of yours, adjusting your grip on his cock and showing you how and where to apply pressure to make his toes curl.

But you don't spend much time with your hand wrapped around Ice. Sooner than you'd like, he shifts to bring your lips together, licking into your mouth while he takes your hand off of him. "As much as I like your hand on my cock, sweetheart," he husks, palms massaging at your hips before he thumbs at the thin band of your panties, "tonight's about you."

You lift your hips so that Ice can slide your panties down, and just like that, you're naked as the day you were born. A thrill makes its way up your spine that's equal parts nerves and excitement as Ice's fingers skate up your legs. He pauses when he reaches your upper thighs, fingers purposefully exploring everywhere but where you want him most.

“Has anyone touched you here?” Ice asks when his fingers finally slide against slick folds, gathering the wetness there and spreading it as you suck in a breath.

"Do I count?"

And Ice groans because no, you don't count. He presses a finger to your entrance. "This okay?"

You nod — "Please." — and he's pressing into you slowly. His finger is so much bigger than your own that you can't help but squeeze around him, unable to watch as the finger sinks into you and too flustered to look into his eyes.

"You're so wet," he coos, finger sliding from your walls as they try to hold him in place only to press back in. And you arch when his finger curls to catch your sweet spot. He takes advantage of your moan to slide his tongue against yours, two fingers massaging at your opening. "Think you can handle more?" You nod, and Ice squeezes both fingers into you, biting back a groan as you hiss and jerk your hips away from the sting of the larger intrusion.

Ice hates knowing he's the reason you're uncomfortable, but he isn't sure what he can do to help. He's almost as out of his element as you are. So, he kisses from the corner of your lips down the valley of your breasts. Distracts you with lips and teeth until your skin bears the red blossom of his affection and your hand is tangled in his hair. He licks over the mark with a satisfied hum and waits until you relax before beginning to pump his fingers slowly in and out of you. As you push back against his hand, his beautifully intense eyes are on yours again. "How're you feeling?"

"Full," you answer truthfully, not sure what to make of the feeling yet.

Ice lets out an amused exhale at your honesty. Two fingers are hardly comparable to what you've both got planned. "You're doing so good, baby," he whispers just loud enough for you to hear it. Purposefully crooks his fingers so a surprised moan tumbles from your lips. "Think you can handle one more? I'll make you feel good."

The promise in his eyes has you nodding. Ice removes his fingers from you before crawling down your body. Pressing a kiss to your ribs, above your belly button, against each of your hip bones. Your heart rate picks up as he lowers himself to the bed between your spread thighs. "You don't have to." Honestly, you're embarrassed at the idea of him putting his mouth on you down there.

But Ice rubs three fingers against your slit, and you tense up. "I want to." And as his fingers dip into your heat, he drags the flat of his tongue over your clit.

You aren't responsible for the way your hips buck into the wet pressure against your bundle of nerves or the wild noise that tears itself from you.

One of your arms comes up to cover your eyes when Ice sucks gently on your clit. He could do whatever he wanted to you so long as he kept doing that. Distantly, you're aware that he's got all three of his fingers knuckle-deep in you, and it burns, but that can be brushed aside. All that matters is how his tongue teases against you and how his other hand encourages you to chase your pleasure against his face.

You've gotten yourself off before, but that's nothing compared to what Ice has brewing in the pit of your stomach. It's toe-curling, tear-stirring, and you can't keep your mouth shut for the life of you. Not that Ice is complaining. When his mouth does leave you, it's to tell you how good you're doing, how pretty you are, how good you taste. How well you're taking his fingers.

Until the pressure is about to snap and your thighs begin to shake with the intensity of it.

And Ice pulls away.

"Feel good, sweetheart?"

"Well, I was." You fix him with a glare. "Why'd you stop?" It isn't a question so much as a demand for an answer. You'd been so close, then nothing.

"Didn't want you to finish before the main event," Ice says as he slips from the bed. "You still up for it?" He's fiddling with the foil packet in his fingers. "We don't have to."

But you're riding too high on the idea of it. Have wanted this for too long to let it slip through your fingers when you're so close. "Tom." You bite your lip in a way that you hope is alluring. "C'mere."

Ice rolls the condom on, slicks it up with a packet of lube — anything to make it easier for you — and climbs back onto your bed. He rolls you so you're resting on top of him. His cock pressed against your thigh as your legs fall on either side of his hips. "It'll be easier if you can control it," he assures you, thumbs back to tracing delicate patterns into your skin while he tries to keep from grinding his hips up into you.

"So I just–" you lift yourself off his lap and look down at his cock lying against his toned stomach "–sit back on it?"

"That's the gist of it. Nervous?"

"No." But your answer comes too fast to be sincere.

"Don't be," Ice says. A hand leaves your hip to cup your cheek, and you press into the caress. It isn't often that Ice completely drops the cool confidence he's so known for, and you revel in this warmer side of him. Soak it in like the sun. "We'll take it at your pace." You nod.

"How do I–?"

"Here, let me just–"

The two of you shift awkwardly until you feel the blunt head of his cock pressed against your slick folds. Before Ice can offer you another out, you push back, baring your teeth and hissing as the fat head slips inside you. Even after Ice's three fingers, the stretch is a lot.

Ice's jaw clenches, his hands grabbing big handfuls of your bedsheets. "You're doing great. Just go slow." His fingers flex and relax as he forces himself to take deep breaths in his nose and out his mouth. You're so tight and hot and his head is spinning. But he refuses to look away as you grow accustomed to his girth.

Slowly, you work your way down until — after what feels like and may well be an eternity later — you're fully seated in his lap.

"Is it okay if we stay here for a bit?" you ask.

His voice is strained when he tells you to take all the time you need. At a loss for what else to do, his hands massage your thighs where they're strained around his hips. Runs a hand up along the long line of your back until he's cupping your breasts again. He hopes that his gentle touch is helping to take your mind off the stretch. It helps, but what you really want is his lips on yours. To get lost in his mouth until the discomfort dissolves into the pleasure you've been promised. That he'd given you a taste of and then taken away. But with the way he's laid out on your pillows, you're not sure you can reach his lips, so you settle for pressing a kiss into his palm when his thumb brushes against your cheekbone.

You tentatively rock your hips against Ice's when the ache begins to dull. A simple back and forth that makes him grunt in surprise, but the feeling isn't uncomfortable anymore. It just feels new.

"You don't have to move if you aren't ready." His hand squeezes you reassuringly.

"I know," you say, moving on his lap again. The same forward and back motion. "I want to." You can feel his muscles tensing with the effort to lay still while you experimentally rock against him. Can see the strain in his neck and across his brow and in the sweat that gathers at his temples. And you like that you're able to reduce him to this.

You're so busy watching Ice's face that you don't notice when his thumb presses against your clit. You fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest, head falling forward as you keen, trying to roll on into his touch. "That's it," Ice encourages, his voice rough like he's been running. "Feeling good, baby?" Instead of answering, your hips pick up speed. Grinding into Ice's fingers and back onto his cock as you get used to the feel of him inside you, your earlier discomfort starts to give way to pleasure. Little sparks light up your nerves. "C'mon," he grunts. "Gotta tell me how it feels."

"It feels—" you try to concentrate on the feeling. It doesn't hurt anymore, but it's a far cry from what you felt earlier. "—different."

"Good different, bad different?"

You swivel your hips, and Ice's eyes are half-lidded.

"Good, I think?"

Ice nods, his adam's apple bobbing. "You can also try…" he trails off.

"Try what?"

His hands still your hips, then his arms flex as he helps you raise them an inch or two off his lap before slowly lowering you back down. You repeat the motion, lifting yourself off of Ice's lap and then sitting back, his cock rubbing against something that makes you groan. "Like this?"

"Yeah, baby. Just like that," Ice encourages, eyes torn between looking into your face and watching how you take him so well. A groan rumbles deep in his chest, and you decide that you like it, so you lift yourself up again. And again. Each rise and fall unhurried. Exploratory. "Doing so good."

It isn't long before your legs start to tire. The strain from straddling Ice and bouncing slowly in his lap is too much for you to keep up with. Sensing this, Ice sits up and gathers you in his arms. Your legs give out, gratefully coming to a stop as he holds you to his chest and captures your lips in a languid kiss.

"Hang on to me, sweetheart." That's all the warning Ice gives you before he's tipping you backward and stretching over you, his hips snug to yours as he lays you on your back and sucks your lower lip into his mouth. "You did so good," he praises, running his hands soothingly over your legs as they fall tired and boneless at his sides. "Let me take care of you."

You nod, your eyes half-lidded as Ice's breath puffs against your cheeks. This is what had been missing in your previous position. The closeness. Your hands snake up from Ice's shoulders to cup his strong jaw, your noses bumping as you pull his lips to brush over yours. Your sigh washes over him, nails catching in his hair as he pushes into you from this new angle, cock nudging against your sweet spot with delicious precision.

His body is screaming for him to pick up the pace, but Ice can't bring himself to do that without making sure you're okay. He's about to ask for what must be the umpteenth time when your head tilts back, your back arching with a wanton moan as you bring your breasts flush with his chest.

"Oh my god."

"That feel good, baby?" His eyes follow the flicker of your tongue as it peeks out to wet your lips. He pulls out a little further and sinks back into you at the same angle, hoping for a similar reaction and getting it — your mouth falling slack as you quiver beneath him. "I'm going to speed up." He waits for your nod, then sets a pace you'll be comfortable with, biting at the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check as you push into each roll of his hips, moans falling unchecked from your lips.

"Just like that. Oh, fuck."

"That's it," he encourages, littering your neck with increasingly sloppy kisses, nipping and sucking at your collarbone. "Tell me what you need."

Your hands have moved from his hair to clutch at his shoulder blades, nails digging in and leaving behind little half moons every time your hands scramble for a new purchase. Your face is flushed a delightfully amorous red, eyes glazed and swimming half-focused between Ice's lips, face, and the ceiling as you shout your pleasure for all to hear. For Ice to hear.

"Touch me," you finally gasp, eyes screwing shut before you blink up at him again. "Please, Tom. I'm so– fu– touch me, please, please, please."

As if he'd ever be able to deny you anything.

Fingers find your clit, cock nailing your sweet spot, and your reaction is instantaneous. Pleasure arcs white-hot across your nerves, sizzling and popping beneath your skin as you writhe.

"Holy shit," you finally sigh, content to melt into your comforter as the afterglow of your high continues to fizzle through your veins. You bring Ice into a lazy kiss, only to grunt when he pulls out of you.

He's still hard.

"You didn't…?" You reach for him as soon as it registers. Ice lets out a throaty groan when your fingers wrap around him like he'd shown you earlier.

"You don't have to," he says even as his hips fuck forward into your fist.

"But I want to." Ice looks like he's about to protest, but you stop him: "Let me take care of you. Please." 

"Yeah." His eyes close, and he swallows, sitting up, and you follow him. "Yeah, okay." He strips the condom off and takes his cock in hand, pumping it a couple of times before he lets you take over, kneeling at his side and nibbling along the sharp line of his jaw. Tasting the salt on his skin.

You watch as Ice is slowly undone by your hand. Head tilting back and Adam's apple bobbing as you thumb over the head. Brows furrowing. Mouth falling slack. Hips pressing into each stroke. More noises fall from his pretty lips as he watches the way you squeeze him, precum beading at his tip and cock twitching, and you savor it. Like that you're the one wringing each noise and twitch out of him.

Curiosity gets the better of you as the press of Ice's hips into your hand grows sloppy, and you lower yourself down to the bed. Your breath ghosts over your fist. Ice lets out a needy whine as your eyes lock with his from beneath your lashes, and you tentatively stick your tongue out for the tiniest taste of him. A kitten lick. That proves to be Ice's undoing. His cock twitches, hips pressing frantically into your hand as he moans. Thick ropes of cum coat your hand and land on his abs as he heaves for breath.

"Good?"

Ice chuckles. "I'm supposed to be asking you that."

"I asked first." You smile playfully and bite your lip when Ice looks down at the mess you've both made of him as if that should be answer enough.

"Where did you learn that?" he can't help by ask. He's unable to get the image of you on your knees with your pink tongue on his cock out of his mind's eye, and he's pretty sure it's seared into his brain.

You blush, looking away as you nervously bite at your lip. "I might've asked my friends for some advice."

Ice wants to laugh; instead, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head as he gets up to find some tissues. So he isn't the only one who'd asked for advice.

[h-c-u]

Come fly with me, let's fly away...

Summary: You and Ice both like to fly, just in completely different ways. And he finally convinced you to take a jet ride with him.

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x fem!reader

W/C: 3.3k

Rating: PG, explicitly stated age gap (19 years). They met for the first time when the reader was 19 (Do I condone that in real life? HELL NO. SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN A BABY).

TWs: None.

A/N: This fic is happening not long after Ice became O-10, he's not married to Sarah, doesn't have any kids, and definitely isn't sick.

Also, the reader is described as really petite, but there are no allusions to ED or food in general; I just wanted that position to work :)

Also Yes, the reader owns her small house with a quite big garden at around 21 without having a job. How and why? Idk, I'm not in her bank account, ask her.

Masterlist | List of tags

- And you're sure it's fine...? You won't get into any trouble...? - You were nervously playing with a strap of his old helmet, he just handed you. Ice just got promoted, and you were still getting used to his new rank. 

- It's not like they can fire me now, dove... - oh that cocky smile that you wanted to rub from his face. Preferably with your fist. Or your own mouth. It didn't really matter, as long as he stopped. - But seriously, we're good. It's a holiday, everyone else is out celebrating, and I've put it as a training exercise, so we're fully covered when it comes to all the paperwork, please don't worry so much, squirrel. - he placed a quick kiss on the top of your head. It wasn't exactly your favorite nickname, but he didn't use it too often, only when he playfully teased you about your not-so-safe hobby. 

Because both of you loved to fly. He was just doing that in a metal can mounted to another can of explosives, and you were... well... Using a thin material to glide. Yet you couldn't help but feel much safer in your wingsuit than inside a jet, that's why it took so long for him to convince you, and right about now, you were seriously rethinking your decision. 

- Relax, dove. - you just couldn't help it. This plane in front of you was basically a killing machine, and even though you loved the adrenaline, you were extremely opposed to conflict and violence, and you sometimes wondered how you ended up with someone in the military, especially that high up.

Well, when you two met he wasn't exactly O-10... He was just promoted to captain. At first, it was supposed to be a rebound-one-night stand with a man literally twice your age (at that time), and on top of that, he was just about to be deployed, so there was literally no chance for a relationship. Yet you still told him you'd like to see him again when he comes back. Which was incredibly stupid and naive, but you were only 19 and he said yes, thinking that you'll forget all about him as soon as you'll meet someone younger while he was gods-know-where, doing gods-know-what.

And you did meet someone. But it fizzled out before it even started. The same thing happened 7 months after you met Ice, and you honestly tried to analyze this whole situation rationally. There were definitely downsides to hooking up with...? dating...? An older man. You weren't even sure what you wanted, so how the hell could you decide if you really wanted it? 

But when you saw him again at the bar, you weren't conflicted. You were just straight-up angry. Because even if he didn't mean it, he did say yes. And it all went quickly downhill from there, well at least for you, because he insisted that you just had to take everything so slowly. He literally didn't allow you to kiss him for four months straight, still hoping that somehow he'll be able to change your mind about him. But you were stubborn, although it was extremely hard for you to be so close to him, without even being able to touch him the way you wanted. There was a lot of pouting, but even more talking and spending time together. Every day after work he helped you in your garden; he even fixed up a shed for you, so the door didn't require a small tank to open and close anymore. 

He taught you many things and told you even more stories. Of course, he couldn't tell you every detail, but it was still nice to hear his voice, and you enjoyed simply watching him doing whatever; didn't matter if it was making pancakes, or working on his plane, as long as he was in your line of sight, you were satisfied. Not in every way, but enough. It took him a full year to realize that you weren't going anywhere. He was already practically living at your house, you put him down as one of your emergency contacts on every possible form, and your cat honestly preferred sleeping on his lap than on yours. And when it hit him, it did with full strength. You weren't even doing anything special... You were just sitting curled up in the giant armchair in his workshop, lazily sketching something in your notebook, and you were getting frustrated because you couldn't get it quite right. He didn't even tell you to come with him, you just showed up around lunch with a spare portion for him, and after you ate, you just stayed there, not even saying anything, because you didn't want to interrupt whatever he was doing. And that's what did it for him... A thing that you did dozens of times over the last year, but this time something in him clicked. 

It's not like he didn't want you with every atom of his body, but Ice-cold always had full control over his basic instincts. But right then and there, he made a conscious decision to do everything in his power to make you the happiest person on earth, and that included finally giving you the relationship you deserved. He of course insisted on never being added on a deed to your house and was very adamant that you'd keep your finances separate, even though he started contributing long before that conversation. He would always push you to explore and learn things on your own and was always there to cheer on you from the first row. And if you'd one day decide that you'd be happier elsewhere, he would let you go. But he didn't have to, because you had eyes only for him...

Even now, almost 7 years after your wedding you were still getting giddy whenever he would hug you or even smiled at you, that's exactly why you found yourself in pilot gear, even though you've never held a flying stick in your hands before. His old helmet was way too big for you, and eventually, he got you another one and that one fit. Even though his stoic presence usually was enough to calm you down, this time it wasn't so easy. It's not like you were afraid of flying; you used choppers in the past to get to the desired altitudes, but this was different. This was a war machine, and you frowned because an unpleasant thought entered your mind... Was this F-22 ever used to kill anyone? 

- Y/N....? - his voice pulled you from your spiral of thoughts, and you rested your gaze on his eyes. - C'mere, dove... - he repeated the request, reaching for your arm to pull you onto the wing he was currently standing on. Sure, he could have let you use a ladder, but this was much more fun. He didn't have any trouble pulling you up with one hand, and you would be lying if you said that his strength didn't turn you on, especially considering all the positions he was to hold you in for long periods of time. 

- And you're sure it's safe...? - you've repeated the question you already asked at least 20 times today. 

- I always managed to come back in those, so I'd say they have a pretty good record... - he said jokingly and started settling in the cabin. He did all the pre-flight checks before you joined him in the pilot seat. You checked earlier, and even with you sitting in front of him, on the same chair, there was enough space for him to reach everything he needed. Before you climbed in, he also loosened the safety belts, so you could fit in them with him, just in case. He didn't plan on doing anything crazy today, but he'd still rather be prepared for anything. - C'mere, dove... - he was done with the checks and was ready to finally take you flying his way. You settled cozily in front of him. It was a tight, but not impossible fit, and if you were being completely honest, you enjoyed having him so close to you... He reached around you and made sure that the emergency oxygen line was connected to your mask, connected your coms to his, and buckled you both in, so everything was properly secured. 

- Tower, this is Iceman, how do you read? - he started following the procedures, and you patiently kept quiet, sitting between his legs. Your compact size definitely had its perks, because at first, you were afraid that he wouldn't be able to see anything if you sat in front of him in a helmet, but fortunately, that wasn't a problem.

- Iceman, Tower, loud and clear, how me? - an unfamiliar voice replied through the comms. 

- Loud and clear. Take-off pre-checks complete. 

- Ready engines start. Iceman, you are clear to taxi. Runway number 2. Winds 21, 0, 10. - you've felt the jet move before you actually saw it moving because Tom was driving it extremely slowly to the designated runway as if he wanted to put you in warm water, so you could get used to it before it starts boiling.

- Fuel check - good. Cabin pressure check - good. Tower this is Iceman, requesting an unrestricted climb to 500 and above. 

- Iceman, the runway and skies are yours. 

- Iceman ready for takeoff. 

- Iceman, Tower. You are clear for takeoff. - you didn't know that, but at this moment he cut his mice on the line to the Tower. 

- You ready, dove...? - he asked, and you nodded. - It's gonna be a bumpy ride for a moment, but as soon as we'll be in the air it will be much calmer... - he informed you and gave you one last hug before he actually started accelerating on the runway. You couldn't help but close your eyes. It was so loud... You felt like the engines were exploding and the nose of the jet was ripping through the fabric of air... It wasn't pleasant, to say the least, and you couldn't imagine doing anything else under those conditions. There were so many systems, and Ice knew them like the back of his hand, and wasn't even looking at the knobs he was flipping, completely relying on his muscle memory. 

But you finally started climbing and you felt yourself melting into the strong body behind you. You were honestly afraid that with added pressure on his chest, he'd have trouble breathing, but he seemed to be doing more than alright. 

- How are you feeling...? - he asked after finally leveling the jet at around 10k ft. 

- Haven't decided yet... - you laughed because the view was amazing, and something you never got to see while wingsuit flying... - It's so loud, I didn't know it was that loud... - you were a little bit overwhelmed by engine and wind sounds and your thoughts weren't fully coherent because of it. 

- To be honest, I've quickly stopped noticing it... But... - he started patting his suit, checking if he still had something in his pockets. And he did. - I have a pair of noise-canceling plugs... I usually use them when I'm near the tarmac because it's always much louder there. They're all yours... - it was hard to properly manouver them under your helmet, especially with gloves, but even though they weren't in all the way, they still were a massive help. - Better? - he asked when you'd stopped fumbling, and you nodded in response. Now his voice was also muffled, but you could still hear him. 

- Are you ready for some gymnastics...? - his voice was giddy, almost as if he was a kid who got exactly what he wanted on Christmas morning and couldn't wait to share that news with his friends. You knew he wouldn't knowingly put you in any danger, so you nodded again. - Hold on tight, dove. - you didn't even know what to hold, so you grabbed his thighs at the exact moment when he did a first screwdriver. It was easy, you knew how to do those, but after that... He was maneuvering the jet in ways you didn't think possible. Dropping and ascending, swirling around imaginary targets, flying upside down... And as soon as your adrenaline kicked in, you couldn't help but laugh at every sudden change of direction. It was like riding a super advanced, super expensive rollercoaster, and you loved rollercoasters. 

You weren't exactly sure how long you were in the air before he leveled the plane again. 

- How about now, dove...? - you knew that he could tell by your laugh that you enjoyed it, but you were more than happy to use your words. 

- It has its perks, I'm not gonna lie... - you laughed again. - I still prefer my wingsuit, because I feel like I have more control. But from now on, I won't say no to an occasional jet ride. - you smiled, even though he wasn't able to see it beaming on your face. 

- Do you want to take the stick...? - he asked, and you honestly weren't sure if you heard him right. 

- What?

- Do you want to take the stick...? - he repeated, apparently being serious. 

- But... - you've started, but he was already moving your hands from his thighs to the stick and covering them with his own. 

- I'm here, and no matter what you'll do, I'll be able to correct it at this height... So I'm gonna ask again. Do you want to take the stick...? - his voice was stoic, even if full of joy. He knew he was good and that even if you somehow managed to put the jet in a complete nosedive, he'd still be able to pull you up in time. And you knew he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize your life, so you nodded. - Ok, focus only on the stick, everything else is my job, ok...? - and you nodded again. - It acts basically like a joystick in games. If you want to move left, you move it to the left... - and his hands, still holding yours in them, moved the stick to the left. - If you want to move to the right, you move to the right... - and now you were gently swaying right. - If you want to go up, you pull it toward you... And if you wanna go down, then away... - he demonstrated, and just like that, you were on your own. 

Of course, you were afraid to move at first, you knew perfectly well how much one of those planes cost, and you couldn't help it. 

- Don't be afraid, dove... I'm here... - he repeated, and you finally relaxed a bit, and when your grip on the stick loosened a bit, you were able to feel something more... You tried gently swaying it left and right, and it was easier to do it to the left. Not by much, but you still noticed it. Surprised by your own discovery, you tried to do the same by gently swaying up and down... And it was just a tiny bit easier to go up... 

- I know you're sure that you'll be able to save us if I fuck up, but I need you to say it one more time because I feel like I'm about to do something really stupid. - this time he laughed maniacally. 

- I'm confident I'll be able to save us, dove, even if you'll somehow invade another country in this jet. - he reassured you again. 

- In that case, it's all on you... - you've said on the exhale and tried to feel the winds again. In your wingsuit, it was much easier. Not only because you were directly cooperating with the wind, but also because you had much, much more experience in flying that way. But even though the winds at this height were stronger, they were more or less the same, you just had to learn how to communicate with them and use them through this tin can. - Wait... How do you slow down and speed up...? - you asked when you wanted to match the speed of the winds, but you realized... you didn't know how. Ice laughed and guided your left hand to the correct lever. 

- Forwards - faster, backward - slower. - he didn't have to say much, just happy to observe you trying to find a footing in his world. 

- Ok... Here goes nothing... - you had to hype yourself up a little bit before you actually did any sudden turns... It took you good 20 seconds to finally gather enough courage to slow down enough to match the wind the best as you could. But as you were flying slower, it was easier to feel the direction of the wind, and you were glad for that. You exhaled quickly three times and finally started following the wind current down. It was rough and full of twists and turns, and it took you some time to get used to the controls. You saw Ice flipping some switches when he realized what you were doing, assisting you as best as he could because he never actually encountered anyone who would fly a military jet like that. You took your own technique and applied it to the 600 million-dollar machine, which was definitely... something else. You didn't have any proper training in flying, your head wasn't soaked with all the correct ways to fly a plane, so you took all your personal knowledge and applied it here. 

- Whoah! - Ice was surprised by a sudden drop, because nothing that rough showed up on the wind shear detection, yet you had no issues with just... feeling it. - How did you notice that? - he asked, genuinely surprised. 

- There are patterns... - you mumbled under your nose, still completely focused on the way how the stick felt in your hand. You didn't even notice when you closed your eyes a bit, so you could feel it better, and only after you've finished an unnamed maneuver, you got out of the trans you were usually in while you were flying in the wingsuit. - I mean... Wind behaves a certain way because of changes in pressure. And if you spend enough time relying on it, you kinda start seeing the patterns before you even enter the stream. I know how it sounds, trust me... I don't even know how else to explain it, because it's not something that I was taught during courses... Every instructor just said that you need to learn how to feel and hear it. And up here...? Everything is just... So... Loud... So I heard the change in the sound and followed it. - you tried to explain it as best as you could, but just... couldn't find the right words. You were sure that there was a scientific explanation for all this, but it was much easier to learn how to feel and hear it. 

- Huh... - he sounded curious. - Maybe next time you'll be trying to kill yourself, squirrel, I might actually join you... - he sighed heavily, taking the stick from your hands because you were starting to get lower than he felt comfortable with; there were birds at this altitude, and he would prefer to avoid them. 

- Wait... Are you serious...? - now you were the one who got excited. Usually, he let you have your own things to do. Of course, he was right there with you during your certifications and the numerous qualifications, but he never expressed interest in actually joining you up there. 

- Dead serious, dove... It actually sounds interesting and I would love to learn more about wind currents firsthand. - if you weren't basically tied to a seat with him, you would have jumped from excitement, which would be a poor decision in such a tight space. 

- Iceman, An Admiral, and US Pacific Fleet Commander in a squirrel suit... Can't wait to see it. - he groaned and instantly started regretting even bringing it up. 

- Promise me, you won't tell anyone about this... - you couldn't help but laugh. 

- I promise, I won't... - you didn't say anything about taking pictures though. 

[no-pilots-please]

The Interruption

Part I: The Dry Spell

Part II: The Dinner Date

WARNINGS: Angst to fluff.  Mentions of sex.  Swearing.  Mentions of death.  

.   .   .   .  

Admiral Kasinsky had died. Unlike some of his colleagues at Top Gun, Hangman had been part of the Pacific fleet for quite some time. He had known the Admiral and worked under him for six years now, and felt the loss was a great man gone too soon. The funeral was on a Sunday. Hangman donned his dress whites. He stood at attention, saluted, and played his role as lieutenant.

The image of Maverick pinning wings into his coffin causes him to lose sleep.

In the following weeks, Hangman is angry. Too many thoughts about his career, his life, and his future swim through his head. Overshadowing them is the constant cloud of the mission. Cyclone tried to change the mission parameters, which Maverick took personally, and rightfully so. The grown men's egos went to battle. Maverick won-of course he did. Jake would never speak the words aloud, but Pete Mitchell was the best pilot he'd ever met. Better than him. Mav could make the run. Hangman knew he could make it too.

But that image of Maverick punching a pin into Iceman’s coffin jars his thoughts when he’s trying to focus. Iceman died a husband, father, hero, accomplished high ranking officer of the US Navy, a legend in his own right. But with that comes the sacrifices he asked his family to make, putting the job above them even when it was hard. At some point, he ranked out of flying and became the man giving the orders instead of taking them.

Maverick had been serving just as long as Iceman. He was dedicated heart and soul to flying, at the expense of everything else. No promotions, no wife, no children. Hell, not even a dog. Mav was married to aviation. No outside distractions existed. He was a man with the singular focus it took to be the absolute best. Period.

Did Hangman want to be Iceman, or Maverick? Did he even want to be either?

Why was it your voice in his head that seemed to ask him these questions?

. . . .

8:22pm on Wednesday. Your phone buzzes with a text from Hangman.

I'm coming over.

You looked at the work in front of you, then took a brief survey of how much more time you needed to get it done.

YOU: Not free tonight. Let's get together this week?

HANGMAN: I'm on my way.

YOU: I'm busy.

HANGMAN: Be there in 20

From your position at your desk-kitchen table workspace, you throw your phone against the couch and sigh in frustration. The past three weeks had been really fun, meeting for drinks or dates and hooking up whenever you got a free evening. You were having all sorts of very satisfying orgasms with the absurdly good looking pilot, but that's really all it was. As much as the pilot had begged for a continual ego-check on that Sunday night dinner, he didn't seem to be taking that seriously. Nothing seemed to get through as much as your take-charge moment that first night together. Was he even interested in keeping himself grounded? You had to wonder. So far he only responded when he was checked in the bedroom. Your frustration with his "me-first" attitude was coming to a head tonight. You were buried in work on a Wednesday night, desperately trying to make a deadline for the following day. There was no time for Hangman.

For a while, you ignored the buzzing of the phone against the sofa cushions. You could not ignore the heavy knock on your front door.

Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly open the front door, one hand on your hip.

"I said it's not a good time, Jake."

"I need to talk to you." he interjects, suddenly standing up straight when you open the door. He's wearing gray sweatpants and a matching grey sweatshirt, military issue workout gear. You'd realized over the past few weeks he didn't have too many civilian clothes. He'd packed light. It was a constant reminder that his time here was temporary.

"You need to let me in-" his voice rings deeply, more urgent. The tone, you realized, is as rehearsed as the smirk he wears when he wants something. Part of the persona of Hangman the Pilot. It sets you off.

"First of all, asshole, this is my home. I don't take orders, you have no rank here. This isn't the Navy." Your own voice is stern. Steady, even, cold. You don't move.

"What could you possibly be busy with right now? Wait- is someone else here?" He asks, eyes narrowing. Jealousy rises in his throat, his eyes darting between you and the sliver of the home he can see inside.

"First off, its none of your fucking business why I can't be at your beck and call. Im not your girlfriend, Jake. And, even if I was, I wouldnt just drop everything at a moments notice. I've got a major deadline tomorrow and I'm behind. I don't have time tonight." You know you don't owe him an explanation, but you give him one anyway. His lips part, as if hung up on the next thing to say. The ego check he's been needing slips from you before you realize.

"You're not the only one with work stress."

As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel a little bad. Your work was very important to you, and very important to the company it was for. But it wasn't national security. It wasn't life and death. But for Jake, it's exactly what he needed to hear. It's as if you took the wind out of his sails. His shoulders soften and his he takes a deep breath.

"You're right. I'm not. I'm sorry." He says, stepping back towards the edge of your porch, hands in his pockets. He looks for a long moment at your scowling expression as you guard the door. Once again, the woman before him is not taking any of his shit and making it known loud and clear. The ego check he needs. A smile, the genuine one, plays slightly across his face. "See; this is why I like you."

You aren't letting him off that easy. He thinks hes having a moment of real feelings, but from where you stand it just looks like charm dialed up to 10. "What do you really want, Jake?" Your own posture softens, opening the door wider. He can see a stack of papers and the blue glow of your monitors at the kitchen table. It's a glimpse into your life, you as a person, that hits him square in the chest. You weren't just a woman who existed just to serve his needs. You existed in places that had nothing to do with him. You had your own challenges.

Suddenly, he thinks he should go.

You can see in his expression that he's wrestling with something.

"I just...I need to get out of my head. Today sucked. I thought-I hoped-you could distract me. I needed to get off base." Jake's voice is even, but there is unrest in the way he shrugs and shifts his weight from foot to foot. He gestures to the workspace behind you as he continues. "You've got your own things going on though, I see that. Sorry. I'll get going."

"Jake." You stop him as he sets foot down the steps. He glances over his shoulder, somehow looking incredibly handsome despite the harsh yellow light from your porch. It highlights the high points of his features and lights his green eyes.

"If--if you need to get out of 'the bubble', you can come in and just chill. So long as you don't distract me."

You've taken to calling the environment of Top Gun as a whole "the bubble". Those pilots were eat-sleep-breathing training and the mission. Hangman had said it was the best environment in the world for making the best on the planet. Why did he need to get out of there right now? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Yeah? I won't. I'll just watch some Netflix and veg on the couch. You wont even know I'm here. Promise."

He's impossible not to notice, you think. Somehow even the grey sweatsuit cannot hide the physique underneath. Even the bad lighting cannot undo his looks. But he wont get that ego boost from you, not after his outburst. "Okay. Come on in."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He reaches out to wrap you in a tight hug. It was uncharacteristic of your relationship so far. You were intimate, but you weren't really affectionate. Not the pair to hold hands or cuddle on the couch. Witty banter over drinks or dinner, and hot sex afterwards was more your speed. Something was not right.

Unfortunately, you didn't have the time to press. You gripped his back and returned the hug, and shut the door behind him. Jake shuffled off his shoes and flopped down on your couch with a heavy groan. You took back your seat at the makeshift desk and watched as he clicked through Netflix. Some Will Ferrell comedy flicks up on the screen as the pilot started half-watching and he scrolling through the phone. You placed your headphones in and continued to work, happy that Jake was again making good on his promise.

Over the next two hours you shared the space together, but separately. You were cranking through your work and putting the finishing touches on the deliverable. At some point, Jake helped himself to a seltzer from your fridge and politely interrupted you to ask if he could have some of the leftover pizza he saw in there. You nod and offer a slight smile, placing the headset back on and continuing to type away.

Jake goes onto your back porch to take a call. You can't help but notice how the warmth goes right out of your apartment. Working overtime hunched at your desk was way more enjoyable when he was sprawled out on your couch, laughing at the movie on TV. You were still sort of mad at him, intruding on you like your life wasn't as important as his was. But you knew something wasn't right and you couldn't help but worry about him.

You hit send on that final deliverable at 10:14pm. Jake was still outside on the phone. Peering through the glass of your patio door, you could see the pilot shaking his head, a solemn expression on his face. You made the decision not to disturb him. Padding towards the bathroom, you decided to settle in for the night. Brushing your teeth and washing your face, you wonder what has gotten the aviator so worked up.

His large frame appears in your bathroom doorway. "Hey." His voice is gravelly, tired.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I was on the phone with my cousin, talking through my existential crisis."

There it was, admission from Mr. CalmCoolCollected that something was deeply bothering him. You were glad that he got to talk to someone about it. But why did he come here?

"Okay." You say softly as you pat your face dry. Gently, you press the hot cloth to your eyes, tired and sore from straining at the monitor the past 14 hours.

"Look, I'm sorry about barging in on you like this. It wasn't right of me. I'm not your responsibility. I was just...I am having a hard time. I didn’t know what to do."

You nod at the pilot as he runs a hand through his hair, trying to sooth his own frustration. Looking into his eyes, you place a gentle hand to his shoulder.

"Thank you for apologizing. Do you want to talk about it? Is that why you came here?"

Eyes divert your gaze as he glances to your hand on his shoulder and then to the floor. You were being way too sweet to him after he was a complete ass. He shakes his head.

"No. Not tonight. I've burdened you enough with my shit today."

"Well, you're here now. We can talk if you want."

You're looking up at him, hair in a messy bun and not a stitch of makeup on your face, and he can't help but lift his gaze from the floor to you. Hangman fights the desire to wrap you in a tender embrace and just kiss you in the bathroom doorway, but he thinks better of it. Stuffing his hands into his pockets to give them something to do, he returns his gaze to the floor as he sidesteps to let you back into the hallway.

"I just...my contract is up next year. And I don't know what I'm going to do."

The words still you.  

“Jake.  You did not come over to my apartment demanding I drop everything because you aren’t sure what decision you are going to make in a year.”

“Yeah.  Kinda.  It’s just a lot.”  Is all he can offer, suddenly embarrassed.  It’s a rare emotion for the lieutenant.    

Pivoting suddenly in the hallway, you reach out and lock your hand around his wrist.  His eyes go wide but he obediently follows you the the apartment.  Tugging him through the apartment, you take him to the living room and basically force him to sit on the couch.  Taking a seat opposite him, you cross your legs and your arms.  

“Don’t be all ‘oh, its not your problem’ because you came over to my place after I told you not to and made it my problem.  You have my attention.  Jake Seresin, talk.”

The blond leans back dramatically on your couch.  You can’t help but admire the way even his neck is muscular and masculine, sexual even, as he throws his head against the back of the couch.   The thought is not appropriate.  He takes a deep sigh and just starts talking, jarring you from your thought.  

“The admiral died.”  he starts.  As Jake continues, the thoughts tumble from his mouth as he sorts through everything in his brain.  You pick out several gems like “I’m like, really good at the single life” “Maverick lives in a hanger, for gods sake.” and “I’m the only modern pilot to shoot down another plane.”  Slowly, as the words pour out, they being to paint a picture of a man at a crossroads in his life.  He was at the top of his game, the top of his career field among a bunch of other elites.  What was next?  He didn’t know, and it scared him.  You could tell.  

Jake continues prattling on, body animated as if working out the energy he’s been containing all week.  Nodding as you listen, you move towards the kitchen and he follows, rambling along.  You run the kettle and prepare two mug of warm tea.  The aviator, leaning against your countertop, quiets as you hand him a mug of lavender chamomile tea.

“Just...drink.  It’ll help you calm down.”  You encourage him, as he raises the mug to his nose and inhales the scent.  

“You’re really too nice to me, you know.”  His smile crinkles his eyes softly.  Damn, he was so handsome.  Even at the edge of an existential crisis wearing grey sweatpants, you couldn’t help but admire the man in your living room.  He seemed so comfortable here, and for a brief moment you imagine what it would be like waking up every morning to him here in your kitchen.

Don’t catch feelings.  

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Seresin.”  Is the best you can do, ignoring your better judgement to give him any complement.

He chuckles.  Taking a long, calming sip of the tea, he looks at you.  “Am I crazy?”

“I don’t know, Jake.  I wish I could help but, I just don’t know anything about this.”  What could you tell this man you’d only known three weeks?  You had barely known him when he showed up on your front porch a few hours ago, but the last half hour or so of Jake spilling his thoughts and insecurities on your couch made you feel like you did.  Gazing at him softly, you rub your eyes, fighting sleep that is creeping in.  

“You did.  Thank you.”  Jake finishes his mug of tea and flashes a false grin into the bottom of the mug.  “I should get going.”  His voice is soft.  Pushing himself off the counter, he starts towards the door.

“Stay.”  Involuntarily, you take a step towards him.  Its a response to him leaving, but part of you wonders if it’s a secret plea for more.  You don’t want the warmth to go out of your apartment.  “You shouldn’t be driving this late, you’re tired too.”

“Yeah?  I’ve got to be up early.”  Jake closes the gap from the door to the kitchen with soft footsteps until he is standing so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.  

“That’s okay.”  You nod, voice so soft its barely more than a whisper.  You bridge the gap between the two of you, reaching your hand out to take his.  “Lets go to bed.”

.   .   .   .

Jake fell asleep with his arm draped across your side, almost spooning you.  His touch spreads a warm, soft feeling through you.  Sensations were completely different than the normal electric lust that coursed through you at every touch.  Hangman was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.  

Nothing happened between the two of you that night.  Everything happened between the two of you that night.

[whichcouldmeannothing]

minnie's Very Good icemav fic rec list!

icemav is such a massive ship but its hard to find fics for it :((

so here are some i liked :))

(this list isnt definitive i have not read a lot, i know there are good ones I missed pls tell me If u have any good recs!!)

fics by @boasamishipper

when i see your face (oneshot, 1k+)

In which Maverick Mitchell wakes up from surgery, high on painkillers, and hits on his husband.

sweet! very cute! maverick rly is a dumb dumb boy

Word on the Street (oneshot, 1k+)

Sharon looks down at her wedding ring and says a prayer for the handsome Navy pilot that’s heading their way. He’s got no idea what he’s in for. / Or, Iceman and Maverick versus the Real Housewives of Fallon, Nevada.

look i also know nth about housewives but this is adorable and hilarious and sometimes we need an outsider pov, est relationship btw!

baby, baby i'd get down on my knees for you (co-written with @academicgangster or simplecoffee on ao3, multi-chapter, 18k)

Or, the Wooing of Iceman Kazansky by a Very Smol Mr. Darcy

(Five times Maverick proposed to Iceman, and one time Iceman accepted.)

OH M,YGOD YOU DONT UNDERSTAND THIS FIC MAKES ME LOSE MY MIND AN DIE AND CRY AND ITS SO SWEET AND ADORABLE AND I MISS THEM SM HGBGKLDS

between the lines of fear and blame (oneshot, 1k+)

extreme whump extreme, most icemav fics hurt mav and i think mav deserves a little better. just a little. this is good also

Out of all the things Maverick had expected to eventually kill him — getting caught in someone’s jetwash, being shot out of the sky, his plane’s engine exploding — getting shot by one of his students in a civilian bar didn’t even make the top ten.

He never expected Ice to take a bullet for him, either.

There's a first time for everything.

fics by @susiecarter

and gamble for the sun (one-shot, 1k+)

It's like this: Maverick and the Iceman make bets, sometimes.

OH MY GODDD OH MY GOD THE TENSION THE IDIOTS IDIOT OT LIKE 3K ITSLOVELY AND SO SO GOOD PERFECT TENSION AND EVERYTHING (in my notes I wrote that they write rly good summaries I just wanted to tell you that)

A Shared Cup (one-shot, 7k+)

hard 2 exp but its a soulbond au and I LOVE THOSE I LOVE THOSE I LOVE THOSE READ THIS NOW AND GO INSANE W ME

It was only a training exercise.

It was only supposed to be a training exercise.

fics by @compacflt

this isnt like a thing about the fics but on ao3, the profile says commander of the pacific fleet (wouldn't that be hilarious if the actual compacflt were on ao3? national security hazard) and that's possibly the funniest thing I've read today

Easier Said Than Done (100k+, series)

"So you just wanna be the best at everything, huh?"

"Yes," Kazansky says seriously, then, confused, squints at him. "Don't you?"

"Of course not," Maverick says. "I just wanna be the bestpilot."

"Huh," says Kazansky, wondering if there's a difference betweenMaverickandMitchell. "Maybe you shoulda stayed at TOPGUN, then."

(Or: Tom Kazansky rises through the ranks while trying to stay a good man. If he ever was one to begin with.) (When We Get Around To Talking About It, 65k+)

"We can start here, I guess. If we're talking about us," Pete says. "Nineteen-eighty-six. The first thing I thought, when I saw you in that O-club, was: Iceman isoff-limits.Capital O, capital L."

Despite himself, despite the fear, Tom laughs a little. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

"Well, first off, we were competition. And yeah, you were attractive, but then you opened your mouth and I swear. You were just an asshole. Goose is trying to introduce you to me and here I am thinking about how much of an asshole you are. Shut up about Cougar, asshole."

"It was supposed to be a friendly competition!"

"Yeah, right. So that's what I was thinking: he's attractive, clearly doesn't know how to talk to other men, might be into the proposition if I framed it the right way. But he's an asshole, so this competition is just gonna befriendly." Pete pauses. Then he says, "Ice, you wanna get married?"

And that's how they start talking about it.

(Or: they finally get around to talking about it. And Maverick's got a couple extra memories.) (Debriefing (& Other Stories), 60k+)

look its rly long. but this whole series is wonderful. if ican ever print out one top gun fic to have and to hold irl I would buy more paper and print both of these ones. absolutely lovely and it doesn't feel long its just a good good good time and the classic icemav fic

ALSO HONOURABLE MENTION

Kings of the Air (@fabula-unica, 20k+)

Fighting and fucking: two things he did extraordinarily well. How could he have known what the effect would be when you combined the two?

ABSOLUTE HERITAGE FIC EVERY ICEMAV SHIPPER HAS TO LIVE AND BREATHE THIS FIC OH MY GODDD SO LOVELY SO SO SOS LOVELY read this fic. it has been waiting 12 years for you

ao3 etiquette is in order, if you liked it, leave a kudos and a comment :D I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I did !

[persephonesportal]

Family Line 

Warning: Some violence (glass being thrown), yelling, talks of PTSD and trauma (reader is a psychologist),Angst, Jake Seresin is a warning in general, Canon character death mentioned

Characters: Bradley Bradshaw, Jake Seresin (Mentioned), Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell (Mentioned), Tom 'Iceman' Kanazsky (Mentioned), Carole and Nick Bradshaw (Mentioned)

This is just some backstory into the downfall of the Bradshaw siblings and how you met Jake

A/N: Yes I know Family Line by Conan Gray is based on something else but let me run with this please!

A/N: Please keep in mind it's been years since I've personally written fan fiction. But this might turn into a 3 parter.

Scattered 'cross my family line

I'm so good at telling lies

Looking back on what has happened in your life, you would have never believed you'd wound up here. Married to the man you adore, with a 1 year old son who is the light of your life and helping trauma victims in the navy as one of the best psychologists seen.

You are the eldest child of Nicholas and Carole Bradshaw. You were only 4 when you and your brother Bradley lost your father in that training accident and 18 when your mother passed from cancer. Before her death, you and Bradley both promised her you would stick by each other no matter what. Well that ended up broken a few years later.

But before this all happened, let's wind back to 6 years ago.

Flashback

Flinching as the glass shattered a few inches away from my head as it impacted the wall. Bradley huffing and puffing, red in the face.

"WHY WOULD YOU TAKE HIS SIDE?!" Manages to make it's way out of his mouth.

"Because Bradley, Maverick thinks he is doing the right thing. If you want the truth, talk to him about it" I breathe out, only noticing that I have a little tremor running through my body.

Bradley discovered that his naval application papers have been pulled and once he found out it was Uncle Pete, well he assumed I knew about it.

"No Y/N, I'm not stupid enough to talk to that man again and that fact you had something to do with it astounds me" Well that hurt.

No matter how many times I explained to him that I didn't have a clue about what Uncle Pete had done, he would not believe a word out of my mouth.

"GOD! Just because you will never amount to nothing doesn't mean the same should happened to me" He threw back in my face, continuing, "I hate you and after this, you're practically dead to me"

A few moments of silence fill the room after the realization of what he had just said. A tear rolls down my face and his face turns apologetic.

Raising my hand to stop him as his mouth opens to say something.

"Just leave Bradley please" It kills me to say that to my own baby brother but I need him gone.

Bradley shuts his mouth, starting to calm down but I walk out of the room to my bed. Starting to cry as I hear the front door slam.

I can run, but I can't hide

From my family line

FLASHBACK OVER

After what happened with Bradley, I tried to get in contact with him only to be sent to voicemail and then eventually being blocked all together.

Over the years I ended up staying close to my godfather Admiral Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky, being there with him and his family for the holidays and other events.

It's hard to put it into words

How the holidays will always hurt

I watch the fathers with their little girls

And wonder what I did to deserve this

Being Uncle Ice's date to one of those events, being a navy ball, ended up as one of the best nights of my life.

I met him.

Lt. Jake 'Hangman' Grant Seresin

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Hiiiiii! Okay so, a while back I was innocently rewatching Bridgerton and had a two second thought of Lewis Nixon in the Bridgerton universe and it just progressed from there!

So here it is: To Have and To Hold

This a collab with the wonderful @malarkgirlypop! She has been such a great help planning this story and I couldn’t have done it without her, so thank you Kate 💕

As always; based on the actors portrayal and written with the utmost respect for the veterans.

Tags: @malarkgirlypop @footprintsinthesxnd @ronald-speirs @iceman-kazansky @liptonsbabe

To Have and To Hold

Chapter one: Bound

Walking down the aisle is the happiest moment of any young lady's life. Passing by friends and family on your way to your soon to be husband. The anticipation of building a new life with someone you love and creating your own family together are both exciting prospects that would have typical women swooning. 

Annette Vane was no typical woman. 

Linked arm in arm with her father as he all but tugged her along, Annette found herself wondering how she got here….

—----------------(flashback)---------------------

“Married?!” 

“Do not shriek, it is unbecoming for a lady.”

“You cannot be serious! Mama!” She looked at her father in shock, “Papa! Tell her!” Annette was on the edge of begging. She had met the man just once! And now they were to be married? All she knew of him was his name, that he came from a wealthy family and his reputation was less than perfect, although for a man, that was common and expected.

“It is an advantageous match.” Her father spoke, he would say no more. 

“And it is final.”  Her mother added, “We will start planning right away-“ But Annette cut off the matriarch with a completely unladylike sound. 

“Ugh you never listen!” She scoffed and yelled, rolling her eyes and flapping her arms about as dramatically as she could muster, “ I don’t want to marry him! He’s probably awful an-“

“Enough!” Her mother roared, silencing her child. “You will not speak of your future husband that way. Take leave to your room.”

Annette watched as her father rubbed his temples, he was at his wits end. She knew she needed to listen to him now, if she pushed any further tonight, he might explode. So she spun on her heels, letting her hair swish as she strutted out of the room…..

—-------------------(end flashback)--------------------

Before Annette could really take in her surroundings, her father took her hands in his, the warmth broke her from the unfavourable memory. He placed her hands in the grooms; the man waiting for her at the altar whom she had only met once before now and very briefly. 

And now, here she stood; at the altar with a complete stranger, preparing to say ‘I do.’ Looking into his brown eyes, Annette let out a sigh. Her father sent her a warning look that only she could see and it kept her from protesting any more, stifling her moody temper. 

Annette was aware of the many eyes watching her, she knew her parents were inspecting her every move and so would her soon to be inlaws; The Nixon’s, along with multitudes of highborns of the Ton, Lord almighty; even the Queen herself had a front row seat, surrounded by her usual entourage. 

Their union was deemed one of the most noteworthy engagements of the season, nobody saw it coming, not with his reputation. Many speculated that the two fell madly in love within an instant, it didn't help that their first meeting was so public, at the first ball of the season. 

Annette had not known then that they were to be married but maybe he had? Is that why he had asked her to dance? She would have to ask him at some point. 

The minister droned on about the holy union and how important God is in a successful marriage. So, Annette took the opportunity to let her mind wander, remembering the only time she met the man standing in front of her apart from today; their wedding day…..

—-------------------(flashback)---------------------------

“Who is that?” Annette found herself wondering out loud. Like everyone else in the room, her eyes followed the man who entered, strutting around with his head high and chest puffed. He had a certain air about him, he was someone important and he knew it. 

“That, is Lord Lewis Nixon.” Eliza answered, her attention was also captured by the dark haired Lord, “I heard my Mama talking; he is searching for a wife this season.”

“He is to marry?” Annette’s disinterest in the gossip of the Ton was showing, every other being in the room knew his name, title and intentions. All except her. 

“Mmm, a great surprise…given his reputation.” Eliza sipped her drink casually.

“His reputation?” Annette was intrigued, she had not heard of this handsome Lord, nor his reputation. 

Her eyes looked over him, up and down until his gaze turned to her. For a moment neither looked away, the Lord Nixon sent her a smile which broke her from her blatant starting and made the young lady turn and blush, tuning in to what her friend was saying about him.

“Oh surely you have heard?” The brunette gasped, “He’s a rake. And a drunk.” Eliza lowered her voice, making sure none around the two heard the outward gossiping.  

“Such scandal. Any woman who even thought to marry him would be a fool. Once a rake, always a rake.” Suddenly disinterested in the man, Annette would have shrugged had she not felt her mothers gaze on her. 

“You are sounding an awful lot like your mother, Annie.” Liza spoke, Annette gave her friend a pointed look, rolling her eyes which would thoroughly irk her dear Mama had she seen it. 

“I think it would be romantic. Having him change his ways all for you…for love… plus he’d be very experienced.” A sly smile crept onto Eliza’s face, her implication sending the two young women into giggle fits unbecoming of ladies.  

“Annette!” Her mothers distinctive whisper-yell gained her attention and made her stand up straighter, ceasing her unlady-like laughter. Annette sent her friend an apologetic look before gliding over to her mother anticipating a reprimand. 

“Ah, there you are, darling.” Darling? That was new. Her mother almost never called her pet names, only Annette or daughter. 

“Mother.” Annette acknowledged politely, she noted the small circle of people surrounding her parent and decided it was best to put on a perfect display so as to not embarrass the matriarch of her family. 

“This is my beloved daughter; Annette. Annette, this is the Viscountess Maire Nixon.” Her mother introduced her and she curtsied to the superior woman.

“Ah! She is just as beautiful as you say.” The Viscountess told her mother, completely ignoring Annette as she stood, patiently waiting as the Viscountess studied her. The two older women seemed to share a look of mischief but Annette didn’t pay any attention, her eye had been caught once again by the handsome rake.

Once again, he set her a smile and this time, instead of blushing like a school girl she looked up to the ceiling and turned away from him, unimpressed.   

“My Lady?” A deep voice sounded from behind her. She had never heard Lord Lewis Nixon speak but somehow she knew it was him.

Annette thought about ignoring him, pretending she hadn’t heard him and leaving the area, but she knew her mother and the Viscountess were watching her and how the interaction would unfold. So, Annette turned to face him. 

“My Lord.” She spoke, not unkindly but neither inviting, and bowed as was customary. This Nixon held out his hand to her and out of habit she placed hers in his, allowing him to bend and kiss the back of her hand gently. The young lady tried to keep her face void of any emotion, even though she wanted to smile. When Lord Lewis’s lips connected to her hand, he looked up at her to gauge her reaction and Annette couldn't keep her cheeks from tinting pink. 

“Lord Lewis Nixon, at your service, My Lady.” He straightened his stance and tilted his head towards her respectfully. She curtsied in return and offered her name, all the while trying not to fall for his charm; which was getting increasingly more difficult.......

—------(end flashback)-------------

Her to-be-husband squeezed her hands and the room came back to her. Annette felt her surroundings fade in as the memory fizzled away. Her eyes found Lewis Nixon’s and it took her a moment to realise he was waiting for something. Waiting for her. 

She hadn’t been listening, what was she supposed to say? 

“Do you?” The groom whispered to her, hardly loud enough for her to hear but she did and it prompted her with her line: I do. She was agreeing to take this man as her husband. Did she? Did she want that? Want him? 

“I do.”

A/N: Let me know what you think, I love hearing from y’all! Hope you enjoyed

~ Nex ~

[baby-girl-e]

The way I loved you

Characters - Iceman x Maverick 

Summary - Ice reflects on his relationship with Maverick and the gut wrenching decision to marry Sarah.

Word Count - 1.3k

Warnings - Angst, Discussions of sexuality, Strong language 

A/N - This is a companion piece to my Series “The best of my heart” (You can read Part one Here) You don’t have to read it for it to make sense, but it goes into more detail on why their marriage is beneficial to sarah! I will also be posting a Maverick fic similar to this one, and it will go into detail on how Maverick is feeling when Ice ultimately leaves.

Loving Maverick was like flying a jet. Adrenaline pumping, heart soaring, and absolutely terrifying. The man was reckless, especially after Goose died, taking any and every risk he could. He knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t going to listen to anyone who told him no. Their first kiss happened exactly like that, all consuming and all because Maverick was going to kiss him dammit. (Mavericks words, not Ice’s) They had been hanging out at Mavs apartment, just finishing training the next class of Top Gun students, watching some stupid movie. Mav had looked at Ice from his side of the couch and made a point to scoot closer to him. Ice wasn’t upset by the close proximity by any means he was just confused. There was no way Mav liked him like that, right? Maverick took his moment of confusion to slip even closer to Ice, mere inches away from his face. “Mav, what are you doing?” Maverick got this small smile on his face and bumped his nose against Ice’s. “I’m just wondering when you were going to finally kiss me.” It felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. This wasn’t happening was it? He would open his eyes and he’d be back in that classroom, looking at the new hotshot pilot that hung around his old friend goose. “I- I didn’t know you wanted me to kiss you Mav.” The pilot in question just rolls his eyes. “Well then I don’t think you’re as observant as you claim to be then.” And with that Mavericks lips were on his. This was the first time he’d ever had the same feelings he had flying on solid ground. This was what he was afraid of, that if he gave in he’d never want to let go. And oh, did he never want to let go.

 From there it was a whirlwind. Spending every ounce of free time they had with each other, just soaking each other in, like they weren’t destined to crash and burn. They fought just as hard as they loved, getting into screaming matches in the middle of the pouring rain on an empty beach. It was 2 am and they had just come back from base after Mav had pulled some stunt and pissed off another Admiral. “Fuck Mav, one of these days you’re gonna get yourself killed. You know that right?!” Maverick didn’t feel at all phased by his mistakes and just scoffs at his boyfriend. “Who cares Ice. Who truly cares. The Navy would throw an actual party if I died.” That was the last straw for Ice. Who cared? All he did was care about Maverick. He cared so much that he broke a massive rule in the military. Cared more about Maverick than he cared about flying stupid jets. “Fuck you Pete. You know damn well who cares.” Ice started to walk away, not really wanting to look at Mavs' face right then. He was pulled back by a hand on his bicep and all but yanked down into a kiss. This kiss was wet from rain and tears but it was no less spectacular. It was like it was right out of some stupid romance novel. Maverick pulled back first but kept a tight hold on Ice. “Tom, please stay and fight with me? Keep telling me I’m an idiot, and reckless, but please don’t leave.” Ice’s heart broke for this poor abandoned boy. He realized that for how much he cared for Mav, Ice still had a family that cared for him. Maverick however didn’t. He didn’t even have his beloved RIO/ brother anymore. Ice was all he had and he almost walked away.

 There was no other way to describe Maverick than wild and crazy. If he wasn’t pulling stunts in his Jet, he was pulling them on his bike. He kept Ice on his toes for better or for worse and Ice couldn’t decide whether or not he liked it all of the time. Maverick was intoxicating in the best way and Ice felt like getting drunk on him forever. He was an endless ocean of crazy and he didn’t really care if he drowned in it. There was no doubt in Ice’s mind that this was the love of his life, even if it was fleeting. One day reality started to set in, that neither of them could give the other what they needed. The two of them loved flying too much to risk throwing it all away. They were scared, and as much as Maverick tried to convince Ice to stay, he just couldn’t. Ice had met Sarah while he and Mav were still together. She was the daughter of a family friend. They clicked immediately, both feeling like outcasts from their families. She was someone he could trust to talk about Maverick to, even vent a little about their issues. His family liked her, and she didn’t care about his sexuality.

 It was the perfect solution to his problem, mutually beneficial. It broke his heart to tell Maverick. To tell him that he had to do this for both of their sakes, so that they could live the lives they’d dreamed of. Being the best pilots the U.S military had ever seen. Maverick had been so heart broken, sitting on his living room floor after his legs gave up on him. Ice immediately dropped to his level, stroking his hair, lips on his forehead. “I know baby, I’m sorry. But you know we have to do this. We could be ruined if we were found out.” That seemed to snap Mav out of his reverie. “Ruined Ice? It seems I’m destined to be ruined no matter what we do.” As if Ice hadn’t already felt bad for pulling the trigger he remembered that Mav would now have nobody, save for Carole and Bradley. If it hadn’t been for the two of them he didn’t think he would’ve been able to do it. “Don’t call me baby if you’re leaving me lieutenant Kazansky. It’s now Lieutenant Mitchell to you. You can call me Maverick in the skys.” His words were uncharacteristically ice cold and definite. If Ice had any thoughts of taking it back, it was too late now. He had broken his already broken heart and there was no way back. “Okay Lieutenant. Goodbye.” and that was it. He walked out and didn’t look back. It wasn’t until just before the wedding that they decided to be friends. “I love you too much not to have you around Mitchell. Please?” Mav caved, like he always did for Ice. He always seemed to do the most reckless things, even if that was being his ex boyfriend's best man. Ice didn’t take Mavs' friendship for granted, always inviting him over to family dinners and encouraging him to bring Bradley and Carole around. Eventually when Ice had his daughter, Maverick suddenly became Uncle Mav to two little kids. Two little kids that seemed to be inseparable and just as mischievous as Ice and Maverick had been. They were both raised by the men and it showed. It wasn’t a perfect solution but it was the best one they had. They had their little bubble of a family and if it was all he was going to get, then he was going to take it. When Ice was sick  he knew his time was limited. There was so much he wished he had said to Maverick, wishing that things could’ve been different. Mav deserved to be told with words that he was still loved by Ice, not a computer. So he enlisted his daughter's help, telling her to tell him. He told her exactly where the ring was, and what to say. One of the last things he did in this life was write a letter to his beloved. He poured his heart out to Maverick, saying things he wished he would’ve told him sooner. The way he loved that man was beyond all reason, but it was the greatest thing he ever did. He loved his forever wingman. 

[missunderstood-with-ideas]

Iceman: I THOUGHT YOU DIED

Maverick: oh I did but Death called me a dumb tiny shithead that he doesn’t want to deal with yet so he sent me back!

[aion-rsa]

X-Men: The Animated Series – The Worst of Charles Xavier

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Decades ago, in Uncanny X-Men #168, Kitty Pryde dared to say something bold yet true, “Charles Xavier is a jerk!” She was right, and the world has been better for it.  

Professor Charles Xavier’s jerkdom transcends all media he has made an appearance in; it’s that powerful. He is an omega level clown, which is probably why he treats his X-Men like circus acts. You have to wow those humans in hopes of getting them to treat you like your mutant life matters, at least according to Xavier’s teachings. Now that X-Men: The Animated Series is available to stream on Disney+, here is a list of episodes filled with all of the Professor’s best-worst moments and how he is more of a danger to the X-Men than anyone else. 

Enter Magneto and Deadly Reunions 

The first season of X-Men is overflowing with moments that make you want to pop Charles upside his bald held. I consider “Enter Magneto” and “Deadly Reunions” as a two-part story since Magneto plays the second most significant part in both of them. He comes second only to Charles’s choice to not say a word about Magneto to any of the X-Men in all the years they’ve been on this team he put together. He didn’t utter a single word to his young team about an old frenemy who could cause them big trouble if he ever came back into the picture. 

Spoiler alert: things go wrong when Magneto shows up. 

Well, that’s not wholly true. The first time he appears, he successfully breaks into the Mutant Holding Facility to break out Hank Mccoy, who is in jail thanks to Charles. However, Magneto is unsuccessful because Beast wants to wait for his day in court. I know he says it himself, but I’m blaming Charles for this as well. 

The rest of the episode is all about the severe danger Charles carelessly inflicts on his precious X-Men. Why wouldn’t you at least tell the guy on your team with an adamantium skeleton that you used to know a guy who has powers of magnetism? The X-Men are so ill-prepared to take on an extremely angry Magneto when he comes back ready to bring the pain to the human race. Things escalate quickly, nuclear warheads get involved, all because Xavier didn’t finish the job the first time around with Magneto. If it weren’t for Storm, a few cities would no longer exist. 

Charles’s hypocrisy is also on full display in the subplot of these two episodes, which involves Sabertooth and Wolverine. Charles puts Sabertooth under his care for mind probing despite Wolverine wanting him nothing short of dead. Xavier goes as far as to pull rank on Wolverine, demanding Sabertooth stay untouched, but then orders Wolverine, Storm, and Cyclops to take care of Magneto at any cost. As Logan says to his face, “So we have to go easy on my enemy, but it’s okay to go trash yours.” 

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In true Charles fashion, he doesn’t realize the error of his ways until after everyone has had their lives threatened by both Magneto and Sabertooth. I forgot to mention this earlier, but at one point in “Deadly Reunions,” he leaves newbie X-Men, Jubilee, in charge of Sabertooth. 

Honestly, it’s genuinely no wonder Morph didn’t make it past the pilot episode. 

The Unstoppable Juggernaut

The Professor isn’t in this episode, but he doesn’t need to be in order to succeed in making sure yet another enemy of his past blindsides the X-Men. Only six episodes after “Deadly Reunions,” Xavier’s vengeful step brother shows up, and once again, he is another person they knew nothing about. 

The mansion is in shambles, and Xavier is nowhere around. He didn’t even have the decency to leave the insurance policy number around so one of them could file a claim. So, not only do the X-Men have to deal with Juggernaut, but they also have to become construction workers. 

When the X-Men finally encounter the Juggernaut, it takes all of them plus Colossus to subdue him. Jean, Storm, and Rogue all managed to pass out at some point in the process. Again, I’m blaming Charles because it’s clear they were tired from all of the construction work they had to do earlier in the day. All that devotion and free labor in exchange for near-death experiences, a room, and costumes they probably sewed together themselves. 

Cold Comfort

In “Cold Comfort,” an old member of the X-Men who had enough sense to leave returns. It turns into an episode of Dr. Phil because Xavier treats his mentees/employees like his children sometimes. 

To make matters worse, Xavier isn’t exactly a great “dad.” He plays favorites. 

So when Bobby “Iceman” Drake comes back into the fold briefly and reluctantly, it triggers some feelings Cyclops hasn’t let go of yet. The entire episode is full of Xavier undermining and gaslighting Scott about how differently he treated Bobby compared to him. Scott isn’t wrong this time. 

In this episode, we also see how important Charles considers his self-appointed role of the go-to mutant to solely work with the government because he is incredulous when he discovers the government has been working with Forge and his X-Factor team. There’s no doubt he probably made a call to the White House to complain about this the moment he returned to the mansion.

One Man’s Worth Part 1 & 2

Finding love can already be quite complicated at the best of times. Now imagine finding love in a post-apocalyptic world and having to give that love up because one man’s life was supposedly worth more than your happiness. It’s a raw deal, and that’s what you get when Charles Xavier is in your universe. In the two-part story, “One Man’s Worth,” Bishop and Shard travel to a future to recruit Wolverine and Storm to prevent Master Mold from assassinating a young Charles Xavier. They even have to find a way to convince him that his dream of humans and mutants, living amongst one another in peace, is his destiny.  

Honestly, the post-apocalyptic world was way less of a challenge and headache. If you can believe  it, older Charles is terrible, younger Charles is even worse, and ten times more infuriating. He doesn’t want to listen. He’s so stubborn he manages to get himself killed, forcing everyone to try again. 

Ultimately Bishop, Shard, Storm, and Wolverine get the job done, but it also means Wolverine and Storm’s relationships are no more. They don’t even get a full day to spend together before those versions of themselves cease to exist. All for Charles Xavier, who does nothing but keep secrets away from them and interrupts their days off with stories no one asked him to tell. 

Proteus Part 1 & 2

Last but not certainly not least on this list is the “Proteus” two-part story from season four. I saved the best for last. Part one contains one of the best Charles Xavier origin stories. It’s tragic but full of delicious drama. The montage of heartache shows Charles certainly has a thing for redheads. 

Kevin, also known as Proteus, is the son of Moira MacTaggert and ex-husband, Joseph MacTaggert. His powers are out of control, and he is on a quest to meet a father that has wanted nothing to do with him. Charles swoops in to “help” Moira and her son, but it’s quite obvious it’s because he wishes Moira had married and had a family with him. 

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Charles (of course) ropes some of the X-Men into his quest. He is hellbent on showing Moira that he was always the best man for her and her son. And because he is sometimes the Caillou of the Marvel universe, he takes his frustrations out on Wolverine, Beast, and Rogue throughout both episodes. And even after Charles does everything to “help,” Kevin and his dad end up reconciling, leaving Charles as the odd man out in Moria’s life yet again. You kind of want to sympathize with Charles until you realize how disappointed he is about Kevin and his dad working things out. 

The post X-Men: The Animated Series – The Worst of Charles Xavier appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[freddiesaysalright]

Soft in Love Part 1

A Gwilym Lee x Student!Reader Fic

Summary: Y/N is an acting student in her last semester of college. When a professor unexpectedly can’t make it for the senior capstone class, a very famous (and handsome) substitute is called in. When they connect, they face a few challenges. 

Word Count: 2.6k

Tag List:  @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @benders-diamond-earring​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Well, you all voted, and here it is! The promised fic! I hope you all enjoy.

Warning(s): None. Just some eye contact and the beginnings of pining!

Part 1 here we go!!!

Gazing out at the auditorium, you swung your legs back and forth as they dangled over the edge of the stage. Your classmates chatted among each other, but you were content in your own thoughts. You preferred not to speculate on why Professor Bennett was so late. Since she was thirty-seven weeks pregnant, it could be anything.

“D’you want to run lines with me, Y/N?” came the voice of Sloan. “Might as well be productive while we wait.”

You turned your head and smiled at your best friend. “Yeah, sure.”

Pulling your knees up, you got to your feet, grabbing your script off the stage. You headed downstage with Sloan. You flipped to a scene you had together, of which there were plenty. You were playing sisters Esther and Rose Smith in Meet Me in St. Louis. You decided to pick the scene before the party in the Smith’s home. You started.

“I’m going to let John Truitt kiss me tonight,” you began.

“Esther Smith!” she gasped.

You shrugged. “Well, if we’re going to get married, I may as well start it.”

Sloan shook her head. “Nice girls don’t let men kiss them until after they’re engaged. Men don’t want the bloom rubbed off.”

“Personally, I think I have too much bloom,” you read. “Maybe that’s the trouble with me…”

Sloan opened her mouth to read the next line, but at that moment, the door burst open and two men walked in. One, you recognized from the department - Dr. Hugh Curtis. An elderly man that loved his job far too much to retire. He was also helping out your class by playing Grandpa in the show. The other man, much younger than Dr. Curtis, but older than you and your classmates, you didn’t recognize. He was handsome with angular features, rich brown hair, and startling blue eyes. He was tall as well. His eyes found yours and you inexplicably blushed.

“Holy shit,” Sloan said under her breath. “That’s Gwilym Lee.”

You pulled your eyes away from his blue depths and looked at your friend.

“Who?” you whispered.

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Y/N? Gwilym Lee, the actor. A famous one.”

“I’ve never seen him in anything,” you returned with a shrug.

“He was in Bohemian Rhapsody just last year,” she remarked.

“I never saw that,” you reminded her.

When the men reached the class, you and Sloan stopped your whispering debate and focused on them. Your eyes lingered on Gwilym, whose striking face made you feel so incredibly...something. You weren’t sure what. Attraction? That seemed too obvious. Desire? That wasn’t really like you. Attachment? You hardly knew him.

“Good morning, everyone,” said Dr. Curtis. “I’m pleased to announce that Professor Bennett went into labor last night, and delivered a healthy baby boy.”

Andrew, your other best friend and co-star in the show, whooped loudly while the rest of the class politely applauded. You and Sloan exchanged excited smiles.

“Yes, yes,” Dr. Curtis went on, quieting everyone down. “Mother and baby are perfectly well and are expected to go home from the hospital tomorrow. Unfortunately, since she is now on maternity leave, she’s unable to teach this class and direct your show. To replace her, I called in a dear friend and former student of mine, Mr. Gwilym Lee.”

Everyone clapped again as Gwilym smiled bashfully and looked around at the class. When his eyes met yours again, you nearly stopped breathing. His face seemed to freeze as well, but he quickly shook his head and cleared his throat. Then he looked at the other students.

“Hello, everyone,” he said with a friendly wave. “I’m very excited to be with your class. Luckily, you’re only a week into the semester, so I hope I don’t have too much catching up to do.”

“We’re lucky to have you,” Edith, your older classmate, spoke up. She was around thirty, and was going to college later since she had children so early in life. “If you need any help, catching up, you can always ask me.”

Gwilym smiled kindly and nodded at her.

Sloan leaned over your shoulder and whispered in your ear, “Desperate, much?”

You bit back a laugh. You didn’t enjoy making fun of Edith, but she did have such a superiority complex about being the oldest in the class. She was also a bit more experienced, acting in small productions outside the city. But she was awfully confident for someone who had never actually starred in anything. You could almost hear how everyone else rolled their eyes.

“Thank you, Edith,” said Dr. Curtis. “Now, this class is only seventy-five minutes, we’ve got to begin rehearsal.”

Gwilym looked over at you and your friend, willing you to catch his eye again. You didn’t. He sighed and wondered why that disappointed him so much. That first moment of eye contact had him reeling. You were captivating and beautiful. And he didn’t even know your name.

The woman named Edith tapped him on the shoulder, pulling him out of his reverie.

“I’m Edith,” she said, sticking out her hand.

“I gathered,” he returned, shaking it.

She giggled.

“It’s nice to meet you, Edith,” he said. “Gwilym.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she replied, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Who are you playing in the show?” he asked, becoming slightly uncomfortable under her gaze.

“I’m Katie, the maid,” she told him, and he detected some bitterness there.

“That’s great,” he said. “I think I’m gonna just - well - introduce myself to everyone else.”

Dr. Curtis saved him further by grabbing his arm and insisting on the exact same thing. To Gwilym, it was like torture as he made his way from small group to small group, slowly approaching where you stood with two other students. You laughed and his heart skipped a beat. He hardly even heard the other students’ names or the parts they were playing. Finally, they made it to your group.

“This is Sloan, she’s playing Rose,” Dr. Curtis said. “That’s Andrew, and he’s playing John Truitt.”

Gwilym shook their hands. 

“Wonderful to meet you,” he said.

“And now, we’ve saved the best for last, the star of our show,” said Dr. Curtis with an excited clap. “Y/N Y/L/N, who is our Esther.”

You held out your hand with a dazzling smile, and Gwilym shook it. A shock went from your palm to his, something only the two of you could feel. The warmth of familiarity went through your veins.

“Nice to meet you,” you said nervously.

“You as well,” Gwilym returned.

“Y/N is a bit of a diamond in the rough,” Dr. Curtis said. “She’s normally so quiet, you wouldn’t expect her to be an actress. But you put her on a stage with lights and an audience and she shines like the star over Bethlehem!”

“Dr. Curtis!” you replied, a deep blush turning your cheeks pink.

“Well, it’s true,” he insisted. He looked at Gwilym. “Such talent. And at just twenty-two years old!”

Gwilym’s chest tightened. Twenty-two. That made him thirteen years older than you. He forced all thoughts of your beauty down, tucking them away forever. Besides, you were a student and he was your teacher, at least for this semester.

“She’s graduating in December,” Dr. Curtis went on. “We’ll be very sorry to lose her. But I’m sure we’ll see her soon enough on Broadway!”

Your eyes remained fixed on Gwilym’s face. His expression shifted when Dr. Curtis had mentioned your age, but you couldn’t put your finger on the emotion. You figured that was expected. You hardly knew how to phrase what you were feeling. 

“Who knows?” Gwilym said. “Maybe she’ll come to the West End.”

“If you steal this girl from New York City, we will never forgive you,” Dr. Curtis teased.

The two of them walked away together, Gwilym looking back at you just once more. You offered a soft smile before he turned away.

“Well,” said Sloan with a sigh. “I bet you’d let him kiss you before you were engaged.”

You elbowed her.

“Shut up!” you groaned. “He’s our teacher. That’s weird.”

“Not that weird,” Andrew pointed out. “There’s like, loads of porn out there about just that.”

“Ew!” you replied. “You just made it even weirder.”

He shrugged. “I’m just saying!”

“Well, don’t just say,” you said. “You guys are being ridiculous.”

You ignored the skeptical look they exchanged.

Finally, Sloan’s sister arrived with her daughters, Lily and June, who were playing Tootie and Agnes (the youngest Smith sisters) in the show, respectively. With them there, you could start from the beginning.

You were basically doing another read through. It was so early on, and this was Gwilym’s chance to see each of you read as your characters. Since Dr. Bennett’s husband was no longer able to play Mr. Neely the iceman, Gwilym filled in. A jolt of excitement went through you at seeing a real actor like him perform. Though you weren’t familiar with his work, he was still in exactly the career you wanted for yourself. You made mental notes of everything he did as he read. You quickly saw just how talented he really was.

As class drew to a close, Gwilym was giving everyone pointers. Edith thanked him excessively. You and Sloan met each other’s gaze and you both rolled your eyes. 

“Y/N,” Gwilym said as he came to you for his critique. “Excellent work today.”

You paused, waiting for him to give you something to improve on. When he didn’t you just lowered your head and thanked him, blushing again.

“Right, well, since we’ve only got five minutes left, let me just say, I’m very excited about this semester,” Gwilym said, looking around at all of the class. “I think this is going to be a wonderful show, and I feel incredibly…” his eyes found yours and he froze. “Lucky. I really look forward to seeing how the semester goes.”

The whole time, he had held your gaze. When he looked away, he dismissed the class. You quickly retrieved your things and hurried out of the auditorium. The feelings you got when he looked at you were terrifying, especially considering the positions you were in. You inwardly scolded yourself. There was no way a man like that would be interested in you. He was too handsome, too successful, and too...too much older than you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Andrew called as he and Sloan jogged to catch up with you outside. “Why are you sprinting out of here?”

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I just...I need to get to the library.”

“For what?” Sloan asked.

“For a secret rendezvous with Gwilym,” Andrew joked.

During class, Gwilym had asked that you not refer to him as “Professor” or “Mr. Lee.” He wanted everyone to use his first name. His justification for which was that you were all adults. This wasn’t a lecture hall, and he considered the show something collaborative between himself as the director and the class as cast and crew.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snipped. “Edith was the one drooling over him.”

“Oh, God,” Sloan chuckled. “I hope we haven’t abandoned him to fend her off on his own.”

“Nah, Dr. Curtis is there,” Andrew replied. “He’ll swat her away if he has to.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N?” Sloan asked. “You look rattled.”

“It’s just…” you trailed off. You spotted the perfect excuse emerging from the theater as well. “Daniel.”

Daniel, who played your brother in the show, was your ex. You performed together in a showcase last semester, and had fallen for each other while rehearsing “We Kiss in a Shadow” from The King and I. But over the summer, when he went home and you stayed at school, he cheated on you. When you found out, you ended things immediately. He didn’t protest.

“Oh,” Sloan said with understanding. “It sucks that he’s in the capstone class with us.”

“Don’t worry about that cheating asshole,” Andrew added. “You’ve got one last semester here, and you should just enjoy it.”

You smiled. “You’re right, I should.”

“Now come on,” he said. “Let’s get to the dining hall, I’m starving.”

You started to follow your friends. Then, Gwilym and Dr. Curtis came out of the auditorium. Gwilym’s eyes - as if drawn by some magnetic force - found yours once more. He grinned and waved. You wiggled your fingers back shyly. Your heart rate quickened and you took a deep breath to try and steady it. You watched Gwilym go until he disappeared around the corner.

“Y/N?” said Andrew. “You coming?”

You shook your head to clear it. 

“Yep!” you assured him, and hurried over, following your friends.

You didn’t see Gwilym shoot you one last look over his shoulder.

After lunch, you did go to the library. You needed to pick up a couple books for a paper you were writing on Shakespeare in another class. You loved classics, so you’d jumped on the opportunity to take a class entirely on the famous playwright. Sloan and Andrew had other classes, so you were on your own as you perused the shelves, scanning the spines of the volumes until at last you found the one you were looking for.

“Good choice,” said a voice from behind you, making you squeak and jump with fright.

You whipped around to come face to face with Gwilym. It was actually more like face to chest. He was well over a head taller than you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t,” you lied.

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“You just surprised me, that’s all,” you said. “Anyway, I’m glad you approve. I’m writing a paper and validation of sources is important.”

“That is important,” he agreed. 

“What are you doing in the library?” you asked.

“Browsing, really,” he said. “Since I’ve got so much time off, I’d like to read some more.”

“Time off?” you questioned. “You’re teaching a class.”

He shrugged. “I’m really acting as more of a director. Not that I’m complaining. But, I’ve always thought about teaching.”

You smiled. “I think you’ll be great. We’ll learn from you no matter what.”

He felt his cheeks warm. “Thank you.”

“You do have a sort of professor-y vibe,” you said. “I mean, your blazer has elbow patches on it.”

He laughed and you felt your heart race.

“It is sort of dorky isn’t it?” he joked.

You looked earnestly into his eyes.

“I didn’t say that.”

You looked at each other for another long moment. You felt certain that his eyes would be the death of you. That he would one day look a moment too long at you and your heart would explode out of your chest.

You cleared your throat.

“If you’re looking for something good to read,” you said, killing the moment. “Try that one.” You pointed to a book on the next shelf. “It’s about Shakespeare’s sonnets and how they reflect his view of women. Interesting stuff.”

He pulled it delicately down and looked it over. 

“I think I will,” he said.

“And when you’re done, you can tell me your thoughts,” you blurted out. “And we can talk about it…”

He smiled kindly down at you. “I’d like that very much.”

“Great!” you said, just a little too loudly. “Sorry. Um, that’s great. But I’ve got to get to my next class, so I’ll see you on Thursday?”

“Unless something drastic happens, you will,” he replied.

You grinned. “See you later...Gwilym.”

His name rolled from your tongue comfortably. With one last meaningful look, you disappeared from behind the shelf. He stood there, book in his hand, stricken by how much you already affected him.

“Y/N…” he said to himself. Then he smiled. He really was looking forward to this semester.

[kurtty-drabbles]

Not a princess au

N/A: slightly based on Magnus bride with the exception that Ariel is not Chise. Chise is too depressed.

@dannybagpipesarecalling @djinmer4 @tieflingteeth @niuniente

In her childhood´s memories, among the smells of sweet pies and other desserts, are the stories her grandmother used to share-everyone coming together near the matriarchy as she often flashes a pearl white smile- and Ariel can recall many of her stories.

And one that stood up the most was the small tale of poor and miserable faes. “Granny” Ariel greets her granny who just closed the window-muttering how the winter finally arrives- and hugs the smaller girl. “Tell me a story, please!” and dramatically begs with her doe eyes. Her granny compliance.

“Ok, ok…since you asked so nicely” she puts the girl in her lap and tells the old story. “Once upon a time…there´s a lovely woman. A fae as only a fae could reach such beauty” she chuckles as Ariel is trying to imagine a pretty fae. “and it was a beauty the Gods offer to her. Beauty is a gift for a fae. And such beauty was meant to marry the Fae prince, a prince from the light court, you know, the typical handsome fae prince” and Ariel is trying to imagine such a handsome man.

“However, the lovely fae falls for another, see, faes can love…but is a rarity in itself, so rare that maybe she wasn´t in love…maybe it was something else” granny tiptoe on the terms. Ariel rolls her eyes and mentions it was lust (it was lust, granny, I get it) “anyway, she decides to e with the mortal…faes must love tragedy stories and their own arrogance because such beauty thought she wouldn´t face the consequences”

“But she did…”

“Oh, Ariel…she did. The prince wasn´t very happy with his bride wanting to marry a human…and patience sometimes can be forsaken in the fae world…so, he put a curse on her” and granny´s eyes turn dark. “after sending some friends to visit this poor human. It doesn´t matter if he was innocent…faes can be cruel and the mortal begs for death in the end…not sure if it was answered”

“Poor silly mortal”

“And the beauty fae …is cursed. She can´t touch anyone or anything ever again” Her granny concludes as Ariel keeps imaging the fate of such poor and foolish fae.

“And her family move away and never talk about it?” Ariel asked. Now, that´s a good question.

“Her brethren were exiled of the court and are freely walking among humans…an exiled fae is common. But a fae who has a cursed relative is as rare as a fae loving a human…bad omen! An extremely bad omen will follow them until the end” and Ariel is hang up on those words.

“And the Gods did nothing?”

“Pretty much”

“What bastards!”

“Kitty!”

“We´re Jewish…we can say that” and winks in the conspiracy. Granny chuckles at this. And the Granny elects herself to be an accomplice. The rocking chair remains a completely unmoving-a paradox for Ariel only- and the tale continues.

“Now, you must be worried…what this means to humans? Exiled faes are dangerous and they will do anything to get your name…faes don´t play fair and exiled faes can break even more rules” The granny continues.

“And …if they have a cursed relative…they have no reason to play nice either” Ariel nods sagely and granny suggests to never give her name until you have absolutely sure the person won´t use against you. _________________________________________________________________________________________

The city is flocking with several mutants and humans. No festival is on the horizon, but, the higher spirits, sometimes, don´t need a holiday to commemorate. Ariel is one of the few people taking the scene with suspicious eyes. As her friend, Bobby is guiding her far away from the number of people.

They´re reaching a yellow path-yellow. Not golden- as Bobby is promising something wonderful down the road. Bobby is chatting away- too freely. Too used to his own voice- while Ariel is merely taking his words still careful. In a moment, Ariel sighs and suspends her moves and utters a few words- with her hand on her pocket- “you know, you can stop acting…I know you´re not him, fae” and she can feel the tomfoolery smile often associated with Bobby is gone.

“How did you notice it?” the tone is more feminine now. Still wearing Bobby´s face with one big difference. The eyes are golden now. Ariel didn´t reach closer of the fae- still, keep a safe distance- and responds.

“You flirt with me and other ladies…Bobby is gay” no apologizes was given nor was expected. The fae snaps her fingers and hissed something. “I forget to see this detail, well, it doesn´t matter…you´ll come with me” is order and Ariel can only frown her expression.

“Why? Why should I willingly go to a trap?”

And the fae offers a cruel smile to Ariel. “If you don´t value your friends´ life. We can keep Jubilation Lee” cold runs through her blood now. Ariel still has her hand in the pocket and has no choice in following the fae.

Faes don´t lie. In the promising space-a pocket dimension stops being a novelty when you live in a world where magic is so convenient- and hanging above on a cage. There is Jubilation Lee.

“Ariel!” she cries. “They trick me. She´s a shapeshifter…I thought…I thought she was Wolverine…I thought she was Laura…” and Ariel can see why Jubilation would fall for this trick. Crushes are a favorite weapon faes like to use against mortals.

Laura, she thought, would be happy to know her crush is not onesided…after she kills the faes.

And Ariel had enough. Taking a knife out of her pocket and twisting her arms- twisting her arms- puts the knife, an iron knife as the blue fae can feel, on her neck. “Bad choice, let Jubs go and you´ll still have a head above your neck!” is a thinly veiled threat. No, is a promise.

Ariel almost gasps as she feels a cold metal. Her does eyes manage to side back enough so the vision of this new welcomer is clear. An azzure man with crimson eyes- a red scar on his right eye- and is holding the sword firmly.

“Let go of the knife and you´ll still have a head above your neck” no one seems to acknowledge the fact those words are being parroted into Ariel´s face.

Flight or fight kicks in. Faes don´t lie…but can deceive.

“And why I would do this?” she tries again. Smirking as the knife stays- grimacing as the sword did too- “so I can watch you torture my friend? pass”

“We don´t want to torture anyone” the azzure man begins. Not the warmest line. “We´re here to make a trade” and she could show more interest if the sword wasn´t so well-positioned and so near her neck.

Ariel looks up to see Jubilation Lee. Ariel has no choice but to listen to their terms. “You work for me and I´ll burn her name out of our memories” and Ariel exhales as she slowly takes the knife away from the azzure lady´s neck.

“Swear by your real name?” Ariel counter-asked.

“Swear by my name” he responds. The azzure lady burns the name, only after Ariel agrees with the terms. “What should I call you?”

“Nightcrawler,” he said somewhat proud.

“Oh, worm?”

“Uhm, not a princess” his eyes travel to his mother- he called her mother when the deal was made- and then tries again. “Kurt”

“So not like a princess” _______________________________________________________________________________________

Looking up at the cottage. Is not the most luxurious place Ariel has ever seen- and to be fair, she didn´t saw many either- however, is not ugly by design.  Ariel could enjoy the architecture in peace if this situation wasn´t so bizarre.

Her hands are quivering ever so slightly. Faes can be deviants. Faes can do unimaginable things and faes value human life as much one would value poop.

Kurt only took one good look at her to know what´s on her mind. “I only need someone to clean my house. Just that” and yes, her hands stop quivering and her eyes take his form completely incredulous.

“Uhm, you could have used the Craiglist” Ariel suggested in a teasing way. “Pretty sure is not that expensive and it is not as complex as using my friend as bait” she states still incredulous.

“What´s a craigslist?” either he´s joking or he has no idea what is a craigslist. Ariel decides for her sake to not press the issue. For now.

She sighs and then inquiries again. “I´ve read many fairytales, and I know there´s always a forbidden room I mustn´t enter or else” she mock an ominous voice here. In front of a fae with crimson eyes. “so, which room I mustn´t waltz at night” she crosses her arms waiting.

“The last door on the second floor. You shouldn´t enter there” Kurt begins. Ariel grins, there´re always secret or forbidden doors humans can´t cross.

“And if I waltz there…” she pries.

And Kurt´s face is a bit too close to Ariel. “Katzchen, what reason could you have to want to join into my bed at night?” and tsked “not what a normal princess would say”

Ariel´s face is heating up. “Sir, how dare make any suggestion…I´m a decent lady” and raise an eyebrow at his last comment. “and princesses are too boring for little old me” ______________________________________________________________________________________________

Friendships among mutants are hard, at least, for Bobby Drake it was. Maybe, it was his immaturity and his silly pranks that prove hard to others to rely on him-Scott said so once. Pranks are nice, but, you need to know when to stop- therefore, the few friends Bobby has…the Iceman tries to be as much of a good friend as possible.

Shaking and swallowing aren´t signals to be ashamed. Not being behind Jubilation Lee. Bobby is not ashamed of anything nor afraid. Jubilation rings the doorbell and Ariel is the one to answer and Bobby-never one to be subtle- breath in utter relief- the two ladies ignore this scene.

“Hey, we come here to see you…” Jubilation tries to put her cheerful facade, but, she´s still feeling guilty. “We´re trying to find a way to take you out…There are many lawyers for cases like this…and Jean even promised to help” Jubilation completes.

“Guys, I´m fine…I´m just his maid here, nothing salacious is happening here” Ariel promised. “Are you alright?”  this question can be direct to Jubilee or Bobby.

“You´re living with a fae…and you ask if we´re fine? Ariel…” Jubilee shakes her head. A change in the subject is in order now.

“How did you found me?”

“Bobby here” she points to the Ice-mutant. “slept with the higher-ups in the Inhuman court and they´re happy to give your location…sadly, they can only do this…for now” she lost bits of enthusiasm.

Iceman decides to break the silence. “Ariel, do you know who this fae is?”

“A fae with red eyes?” is a lucky guess if you ask Ariel.

“No, he´s an exiled fae…and exiled faes are the worst…remember the story about exiled faes? The most famous one is about a pretty fae that should have married another prince fae but well…she had cold feet and well…” he looks awkward now. “no one gets a happy ending”

And this story sounds familiar. ________________________________________________________________________________________

“Uhm, are you sure, handsome?” Ariel reacted to that request as any normal person would. “I´m not the best cooker and I think there´re many on Craiglist who would love to work for a fae with crimson eyes” her tone is teasing. Kurt is not commenting on this.

“Well, unless you´re a princess and you can´t do this chore” and he smiles. No, more like sneers and Ariel has mixed feelings about this. Either Kurt loves princesses or he hates them-the image of him being rejected by a princess plays in her mind- and she notices how he´s expecting a reaction from his words.

“Why this obsession with me being a princess? I told you before, no blue blood in my family” The Prydes lived well, but, no one would look at them and think they´re nobility.

“Every woman wants to be a princess” and adds. “the gods said so”

“Gods are dicks” is her intelligent response. For a moment, Ariel thought he would get angry-faes worship some deities here and there- and maybe Kurt will take offense to her words.

Instead, he smiles too pleased. “They´re. Can you cook?”

And in her mind, Ariel made a delicious meal worthy of a king, of course, in reality, the food is badly burned and too salty. Kurt can´t take a bite and neither does Ariel.

“Yeah…not a princess” he agrees and snaps his fingers as decent food appears at the table.

“You can…you can made food but still needs a maid to clean your house?”

“No”

“Why am I here then?”

“Your food is getting cold”

“Curse you and your delicious magic food”

__________________________________________________________________________________________

How long is Ariel working for this strange exiled fae? hard to know, hard to care. Lately, Ariel is taking each detail of the cottage and from the owner as much she can. For example, the sour azzure man likes to be in his study room, doing gods know what, but often leaves at some time to the woods, and Ariel is left wondering what he does there.

In the study room, she has permission to clean-she blushes as the insinuation of his room and Ariel entering still plays in her mind- when she can notice two things: first and foremost, the room is immaculate. And second, there´s a painting a lovely woman with auburn hair and white streak.

Ariel comes closer and inspects the painting. The name Rogue is written bellow. She almost touches it. Almost. “That´s my sister” his voice draws in and Ariel is too used now. “I had a sister once…” and Ariel can nod in sympathize.

His eyes bore into Ariel. “Aren´t you thinking anything weird about me and my sister…”

“No, you big dummy, you look just like I do when I mentioned my granny…she passed away…she used to tell me stories” Ariel reveals this piece of information.

“Oh, is that….because I´m a fae…mortals seem to think I´ve no sense of family or love” and is the softest tone she ever listens to him responding. “family and faes are different from humans, so, of course, my family is different from the others faes…”

“Is just you and your mother now?”

“Yes, just me and my mother…she didn´t take Rogue´s demise so well…no one did” and he adds looking at her. “she was supposed to marry this prince but Rogue refused and the Gods” Ariel can see him gritting his teeth. Showcasing his fangs. “decide to punish her”

“Gods are jerks”

“Yes, they´re…and you´re not a princess”

“I´ll try not to cry on my pillow tonight. I promise” ________________________________________________________________________________________

Kurt found Ariel doing the laundry-Kurt did help as she berates him saying his hand wouldn´t fall if he did his share- when rubbing his neck Kurt makes a strange request. “Would you like to see my sister?” and Ariel never heard of a tombstone for faes, then again, it doesn´t matter.  "of course…should I bring something?“

Kurt shakes his head.

The walking didn´t take more than 5 minutes. And soon, Ariel is looking at the statue of Rogue-maybe that´s how faes pay respect-and Kurt is the one to break the silence in a weak tone. So different from the first day.

“That´s my sister. She´s blessed with beauty to marry a prince fae. The Gods thought it would be funny to make her fall in love with a mortal…and it would be hilarious to punish her…” and taking a deep breath he adds. “she´s not dead…she´s cursed. The statue is my sister”

Ariel looks at the statue and back to Kurt. “And that´s why I´m here? to break this curse?” inquires back Ariel not seeing how she, of all people, could do this. She has no magic and as she proves time and time again. Not a princess.

“The Gods have a strange sense of humor. Only the tears of a lady that refused any form of being a princess can save my sister. Your tears can restore her life…you more than once rejected the life of a princess” Kurt answers.

“My tears?” she gazes up to the statue and then re-direct her attention to Kurt. “ok, tell me something sad, Kurt, make me cry and I´ll try to save your sister”

Kurt blinks as his mouth opens freely. “I was married once…my wife was devoured as a part of a sick joke” Ariel holds his hand -is really soft like velvet- and he carries on. “my biological father abused my mother in some form…I never asked for details and she´ll never give it to me…I was in more wars than you can imagine…and I miss my sister. My family is smaller and strange, but, is my family and I missed them” and her tears fall right after this admission. Slowly but surely.

Rogue blinks her eyes. Rogue is no longer a statue. _________________________________________________________________________________________

Being turned into a stone and then being brought back to life is a feeling only Rogue can fully understand. Mystique is trying to console as much as she can- Kurt too. The two azzure aren´t very affable, but, are trying- and Rogue asked about the mortal she was forced to love. “he´s no longer alive…I promised” and Rogue takes his word.

He could trap Ariel, couldn´t he? She made no demands nor deals when she cries to save his sister. He could make her stay here forever. “Be careful when doing deals with faes…you´re free to go”

“I´m free…that´s great, and that´s great your sister is back…look” she then whispers as she is about to reveal a secret. “next time, if you really need a maid…use Craiglist and not try to blackmail anyone to help you” Ariel teases him but her eyes have some seriousness to it.

“I´ll try…” is the best he can promise to her.

“Good, and if you want to visit me or if you want me to visit you…no need to tricks…just shows up and say hi, ok?”

“That I can do it”

She´s not a princess by any means and yet, she´s far more interesting than one.

[ducktracy]

156. i only have eyes for you (1937)

release date: march 6th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: joe twerp (iceman), elvia allman (old maid, katie canary)

tex’s merrie melody input would grow stronger and stronger. by the end of the year, he’d be directing merrie melodies exclusively all the way until 1941. his next cartoon, a looney tune, would change the face of looney tunes for generations to come—porky’s duck hunt introduces us to the enigma that is daffy duck. but for now, the local ice delivery man attempts to win over katie canary by crooning. however, his methods for achieving such golden pipes are seldom legitimate.

right away, the story launches into a catchy little jive in minor key, exposing the plot. the ice delivery man, a bird with an overbite doing an eddie cantor eye roll as he rolls along in his jalopy, is on his way to deliver ice to his least favorite house. an old hag is absolutely smitten with him, to the point of sexual harassment as she flaunts the ever scandalous YOO HOO! sign in her window. the lyrics are highly amusing: “she orders 50 pounds of ice 10 times a week, he hates delivering ice to her!” the old maid’s line of attack is to lure the iceman in with her baked delicacies (”how our hero hates the stuff the old maid makes!”)

elsewhere, we stumble upon katie canary, who has our hero “nutty as a loon” (foreshadowing to porky’s duck hunt?) while iceman is out begrudgingly delivering unforeseen amounts of ice to a creep, his true love is obsessed with the crooners, perched in front of the radio, her house adorned with photos of crooners like bing crosby, eddie cantor, al jolson, and rudy vallee. why cantor and jolson are considered crooners beats me, but it’s certainly funny nonetheless.

it wasn’t long after this cartoon that joe dougherty was fired from the studio on account of his stutter being too out of control. in fact, the next porky cartoon, porky’s romance, would be his last. the directors made their frustration working with dougherty known, so much so that tex avery decided to lampoon it in this cartoon here. as iceman prepares to drop off his delivery to the old maid, he stumbles on his words and switches them up (joe twerp providing the vocals instead of joe dougherty): “ gy mosh—er, uh—my gosh. this old maid pure is a shest... er, boy, she sure is a pest.” i feel bad for dougherty, as he was talented in my eyes, but i can sympathize with tex’s frustration. dougherty’s stutter caused a lot of retakes, which, in turn, cost a lot of money. it’s easy to be fed up. while this isn’t the most friendly of characters in terms of background, i admit that it amuses me a lot, knowing the backstory.

sure enough, the old maid IS a pest. iceman creeps into the house, shifty-eyed as he gingerly drops a block of ice in the icebox. the coast is eerily clear, and for good reason. great setup on tex’s part: she’s baking pies, putting up creepy signs, she makes her presence known. so why isn’t she breathing down iceman’s neck? the tension is very strong and very believable. with that, iceman tiptoes out, his speed gaining as he grows more and more relieved... until the door slams shut as the old maid pins him inside, waiting behind the door the entire time. 

right away, the old maid attempts to corner the iceman, shoving food in his face she had been storing behind her back. the iceman struggles to refuse, stumbling “oh, tho nanks. er, na thonks. er, not me!” the gag picks up in momentum as poor, meek iceman almost breaks out into a backwards run, the old maid pulling out donuts and watermelons and turkeys behind her back with the utmost of ease and nonchalance. 

terrified, the iceman pins himself against a wall, which turns out to be a murphy bed. the bed flops onto the ground, concealing the iceman, while the old maid sighs in perverted satisfaction. “at last, a MAN!”

i can only wonder if bob clampett animated this next scene, seeing as it would be reused in the daffy doc. while a hysterical surgeon-to-be daffy crawls in and around a bed with a handsaw, pursuing a terrified porky, the old maid dives under the bed and crawls on top of it, pursuing the iceman in a VERY similar fashon. nevertheless, iceman outsmarts the old maid, jumping out of the bed and allowing the murphy bed to spring back into the wall, old maid inside it and all. a famous, amusing tex avery-ism as iceman hops into his truck and screeches away. suddenly, he reverses, giving an exhausted “whew!” to the audience before speeding out of sight once more.

finally, a more pleasant delivery as iceman arrives to the abode of his crush, katie canary. but this is a different delivery—our hero comes bearing flowers. he bumbles his way inside, katie still perched in front of her own love, the radio, fiddling with the dial. “fere’s some howers—er—how’s some fleers—“ while iceman stumbles his way through, katie rudely hushes him as she finds her desired radio station. the warm warbles of bing crosby’s “let it be me” fill the air, and katie listens, enraptured, while iceman leans against the radio in a huff. borrowed from another tex entry, i love to singa, bing interrupts his singing. “don’t lean on the radio, son, you bother me.”

when the song ends, iceman perks up, offering his flowers to katie. however, katie still refuses. this is the first of MANY, MANY, MANY katharine hepburn impressions, primarily in tex avery cartoons. tex just LOVED kat’s voice, finding it as the perfect lampoon. katie speaks in the hepburn inflection, shooing him away. “please go away. cahn’t you see i’m saving my haaht and my lahv for radio croonahs? someday, somewhere, sometime i shall marry one, and i know we should be all so tehhribly happy, rahlly i do.” poor iceman wilts, along with his flowers, a telltale sign of Lost Romance. iceman sulks out the door, nearly dragging along across the floor.

in his jalopy, iceman hilariously struggles to sing a rendition of “let it be me”, eventually giving up and growling “aw, let it go, let it go...” carl stalling’s musical accompaniment is excellent, the chorus repeating like a broken record as the iceman tries his damnest to get the words right. this start/stop approach of music would accompany porky plenty of times when he himself tries to sing (like when he struggles to sing “singin’ in the bathtub” in polar pals.) 

suddenly, iceman perks up as he stumbles across a sign: 

PROF. MOCKINGBIRD

VENTRILOQUIST

AND

IMITATOR

but of course! an impressionist! tex fills up some time by including closeups of signs, such as the aforementioned one and the sign outside of the prof’s door that advertises PROF. MOCKINGBIRD -- PRIVATE. prof. mockingbird greets him with a “hullo, strenza!” (a yiddishism reused from i love to singa) and iceman tries to get to the point. after struggling, he cuts to the chase. “look, do something!”

mockingbird more than obliges. because this is a tex avery cartoon, not only does the bird perfectly imitate ducks, dogs, roosters, even car horns, he contorts his body to accompany his display of talent, even twisting and bending himself around as he imitates an airplane. iceman is certainly impressed. “that’s swell. er, that’s crell, but can ya swoon? er, can ya swim? i mean, can you croon?” a few lines of the title song (the actual song, not the exposition!) confirms iceman’s suspicions. floored, iceman yanks mockingbird out of the office and stows him away in the back of his ice truck.

back to iceman’s pursuit as katie canary elegantly swipes her hand through her “hair” (bob clampett animation), peering out the window, when warm warbles catch her ear. delighted, she rushes to the window, spotting none other than iceman singing “i only have ice for you” from his truck. a lovely layout and angle. and, as expected, we see mockingbird inside the truck, supplying the vocals instead of iceman, both pantomiming one another. the scene is humorous as it is with the fake vocals, but iceman pantomiming the unseen mockingbird is even better.

katharine katie has been won over. “i knew he’d come, my lover, my sweet one!” she provides a mini soliloquy as she theatrically poses on her staircase, dreaming of how “sadly happy” she will be. “oh, at lahst, to be held in the arms of a crooner, it will make me so sadly happy... rahlly, it will.” tex would have a field day with katharine hepburn soliloquies, as he displays in his epic hamateur night. katie eagerly hops in iceman’s jalopy, and together they ride.

inside, however, is a bleaker scene: mockingbird is positively freezing. another fun tex(t) gag as iceman shiftily rings a buzzer on the side of the truck. inside, a sign blazes SWING IT! the poor mockingbird gives a nasally, shuddering, poor rendition of the eponymous song, trying not to freeze to death. katie grows slightly suspicious as sounds of an oncoming sneeze loom, but shrugs it off as the vocals revert to semi-normal. 

“boy, it’s bloody cold in here!” interjects the mockingbird. katie grows increasingly curious and suspicious as iceman recognizes his folly. the vocals grow worse and worse (yet funnier for the audience.) hilarious animation by who i presume to be is bob clampett, with katie’s suspicious grimaces and winks, iceman batting his eyelashes and shrinking into himself, it has clampett written all over it (and those expressions would be reused in similar nature to some of his cartoons. porky’s badtime story and baby bottleneck come to mind for the grimaces and the eyelash batting.)

finally, mockingbird gives a behemoth of a sneeze, blowing iceman’s cover as the entire back half of the truck is ripped off, a freezing iceman quivering on a block of ice. katie stares down iceman as he wrings his hat, his tail between his legs.

and so-- (signaled with a highly amusing offscreen ed wynn warbling “SO--” ), we find katie canary pouring boiling hot water in a wash tub, where the recovering mockingbird is soaking his feet in an attempt to warm up. two movers come in and haul away katie’s fated radio, replacing it with a refrigerator. katie and the mockingbird happily embrace.

AND OUR HERO—he sits in the old maid’s kitchen, feeding him all the delicacies he could dream of. he devours a pie, and while he prepares to dig in for another, he finds himself holding the old maid instead, prepping for a kiss. iceman recoils, pausing to put on sunglasses and hesitantly accepting the kiss. he addresses the audience, stumbling on his words, until he gets to the point—“well anyhow, she can cook!” iris out on the unlikely couple as they kiss once more.

this is an intriguing cartoon that i grew to appreciate the more i watched. the opening number was catchy as can be, and implementing the title song as a rendition sung questionably and sickly is certainly an interesting choice. it’s obvious tex wanted to do more than just advertise a song—it’s almost as if he was like “i’ll give you your damn song, alright.” while tex is hardly sentimental or endearing, this is definitely an endearing cartoon. you can easily sympathize with the iceman and his search for love. you can feel the apprehension as he treks through the dangerous territory that is the old maid’s kitchen, you can feel his heartache when katie canary dismisses him away in favor of her crooners, you can feel his red hot embarrassment as his fake crooner plans turn awry. he has much more personality than he lets on... or perhaps he just resonates more than usual. the whole stuttering thing was highly amusing, too. you can tell tex really wanted to go the roy atwell approach with dougherty, mixing up sentences and words and cutting to the chase, but couldn’t because of dougherty’s stutter. joe twerp does an excellent job and is one step closer to tex’s dreams being realized. tex’s next cartoon, porky’s duck hunt, his dream would be fully realized as mel blanc takes the stage as porky for the first time.

in all, this is a good short! i enjoyed it quite a lot. it has a lot of personality to it, and it’s certainly a different approach to the merrie melodies as we’ve been seeing. give it a go!

link!

[paraphernaliawagon]

sometimes i get reminded that my dad has literally no idea about ANYTHING that has happened in comics after approximately 1970. NONE. it’s amazing. his innocence must be preserved. he is a sociological marvel.

ok so what happened is i just recently read a bunch of trades from the library of All-New X-Men (2013). the first few volumes. and somehow the topic of humidity came up while we were having dinner and it reminded me of something that pissed me off so i started ranting about it. i’m like “ok so iceman is in atlanta, right? it’s not important how he got there, don’t worry about it. the thing is, it’s really hot and he’s complaining about how it’s hot, and he, like, makes ice from the moisture in the air, so he can’t make very much ice? but then he gets arrested and the air conditioner is on in the cop car so THEN he can make ice? BUT? it’s really humid, right? in atlanta, in the summer?” (dad says yes) “and heat and humidity are two different things! it doesn’t make sense! it’s so stupid!” and dad’s like “it’s a comic book. they’re not written by meteorologists. don’t worry about it.” and i remembered that he grew up in a time when comics were just for fun and nobody expected anything in them to make any damn sense. but I STILL think: i’m not a meteorologist and i know that heat and humidity are two different things. and i really think it’s not to much to expect that noted idiot bastard hack brian micheal bendis should also know that especially since he is older than me.

but THEN dad’s like, “wait iceman? he was one of the original five x-men. they still have those guys?” and i explain how there’s actually two of him since the younger versions of the original five got brought forward in time (and dad’s like “oh cool”) but internally i’m like “what the fuck does he mean of course they ‘still have’ iceman” and i realize that like, he knows x-men comics now are full of characters he doesn’t know (aka like literally ALL OF THEM. he’s like, vaguely heard of wolverine but he literally has like no idea who storm is or nightcrawler or anybody. these characters are like 40 years old! they’ve been around since he was literally a teenager! but he doesn’t know them because they’re ‘new!’ WHAT THE FUCK. HOW IS THIS MAN ALIVE) so he assumes that these comics that are full of “new” characters also don’t have the old characters that he DOES know. so he’s scared away from reading “new” comics. he’s too intimidated by all the “new” characters and the literally 50 years of continuity that he’s missed out on. and it makes me kinda sad. i wish i could get him to branch out. what is he doing only reading the exact same comics issues he read when he was 10? doesn’t he get bored? doesn’t he wonder what has been happening since then? there’s hundreds of thousands of comics in existence that he might very well enjoy but has never once even considered reading! 60-year-olds can read new comics! what’s stopping him? why is he like this? why does he only want to relive his childhood over and over? but at the same time i think his unique state of ignorance must be preserved so that sociologists and historians might study him.

anyway then my mind is reeling and i’m like.. how much can i tell him. i think i can tell him that iceman is gay. he’ll be cool with that. BUT just as xavier suppressed jean grey’s knowledge of her own telepathy to protect her mind, dad also cannot be allowed to know. he has spent 50 YEARS knowing only a Jean Grey who is called Marvel Girl, is about 16 years old, has the power of telekinesis and nothing else, has never died, has never been possessed by the phoenix force, has never been cloned, has never been married, has no known offspring in any future timeline, and is the only woman on the team. it would be too much for him. it would break his mind. he also cannot, under any circumstances, know that anyone other than Dick Grayson has ever been Robin. it will confuse him too much. please. nobody tell him. he won’t be able to handle it.

his favorite superhero is ant-man. aka hank pym. he has been begrudgingly made aware that someone else has been ant-man but his mind will not fully accept this information. one time i got frustrated and blurted out “everyone hates hank pym cuz he beat his wife once a long time ago” or words to that effect and i still regret that lack of restraint because the look on my dad’s face was so confused and hurt. not his fave! things like that just don’t happen in comics where he comes from. that strange land of Eternally 1965. but part of me felt like he deserved to know.