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ravynnwritestrash · 2 years ago

Text

A Cozy Chair

Word Count- 3953

Warnings- cursing also not my best work but I still think it's fun.

About- Fred and George tell you about their latest plan that pushes you into making one of your own

———-

A cozy chair in the corner of a room. A spot I had sat in so many times before. Listening to the boys tell me their big dreams about a shop, about a prank, about a plan. A plan to leave Hogwarts. To make a name for themselves outside of the boring day to day life of the school. Outside of the list of rules made impossible to follow. It wasn’t a question or a maybe. It was a plan. They knew how they were going to do it and they knew when. So I sat in this chair and made a plan of my own. I’m going to tell Fred about the feelings I had towards him, before he leaves. As the twins start to plan out what to take with them and what to leave behind, I excuse myself to find the only other person who knows my secret, Ginny.

I had told her last year as a way to vent how I was feeling after Fred didn’t ask me to the ball. I'm not sure why I was surprised, everyone thought Shawn Martin was going to ask me and he eventually did. Shawn and I had gone as friends and while the schools thought that we were an excellent couple the truth was the only thing between us was a secret that I had found out by accident. Shawn was gay, and not ready to come out, we had helped each other lie during Amortentia day in potions. Shawn didn’t ask why I needed to lie but he told me why he did after class that day. I suppose the two of us could just sense that the other was in need.

I quickly walked to the courtyard to find Ginny, and while I did find her I found her with Hermione. With no time to think I used the new found fire under my feet to practice telling my deepest secret.

“Hey!” Ginny said as I plopped down confusion slowly crowding her face as my anxiety started to visibly creep up. “What’s going on? Where are Fred and George?”

“They're in their room, everything’s fine. Well mostly fine. I just- I have a- I need your help with something.” I was tripping over my words as I looked between the two girls. Hermione glanced between Ginny and I trying to figure out what could be happening. “Okay, so, I have a crush… on someone.” Ginny's confusion remained as Hermione clearly got more curious.

Hermione leaned in closer to me “Who is it?” She asked as a smile creeped onto her face. I glanced at Ginny who was still confused.

“It’s- well it’s Fred” I said, ripping up grass from beside my leg suddenly very interested in not looking at either of the two girls. Ginny let out a breath as Hermione did the opposite. She gasped and placed a hand on my knee.

“Fred?” She asked, the smile on her face filled her voice. I just nodded, keeping my eyes on my growing pile of grass “Did you tell him?”

“Not yet,” I found the courage to look up at Ginny who now also had a smile on her face.

“You’re finally going to tell him?” She struggled to keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Finally?” Hermione looked to Ginny who was more focused on my answer to her question.

“Yeah, well so here’s the thing and this is a secret you can tell no one. I paused and waited for the girls to agree, after they had both nodded I continued to talk, “So they’re leaving, soon, like in the dropping out way.” Hermione's eyes almost fell out of her head and Ginny looked unsurprised. “So the plan is to tell him before he leaves because then I figure he has some time to, I don’t know, not hate me.”

“He wouldn’t hate you,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes, followed shortly by Hermione's shock and the whole situation.

“They are dropping out?” She asked as though she hadn’t heard of the concept.

“I mean you don’t need to graduate to open a joke shop, plus with everything that’s happened they aren’t the first to consider the idea.” I defended.

“How much time do we have?” Ginny asked the only one of us who was ready to get started.

“Two days, I figure we plan today and execute tomorrow?” I answered suddenly unsure if I could even go through with it. Ginny shook her head.

“Where in your timeline there are you giving him time to even respond?” Hermione nodded as Ginny spoke.

“So- what,” Before I could even figure out what I was asking, Hermione was handing me a piece of parchment and a quill.

“Write him a letter, that way you can’t chicken out and we can deliver it tonight during dinner.” My heart started racing, dinner was only a couple hours away and I wasn't sure I was even ready for a response. What if he said no? What if he didn’t want to talk to me any more? What if-

“Okay, so just write it all down, pretend like he’s not even going to read it, and while you do that Hermione and I will figure out how to sneak it to him.” Ginny was already turning herself towards Hermoine ready to leave me to my writing.

“We should put it on the chair in their room so it’s waiting for them after dinner,” I spoke up, partially to avoid my part of the plan and partially to save myself from having to watch him read it. The two girls nodded at each other in agreement and I took a deep breath and started writing.

Fred,

I don’t know how to say this so I suppose it’s a good thing I’m writing it down. Do you remember the first Christmas I spent at the burrow with you and George? You snuck out with me on my first night there just to go on a walk because I couldn’t sleep. It was all so overwhelming in the best way. When you put your arm around my shoulder to keep me warm I told you that the burrow was going to be my new favorite place. It’s true, however it wasn’t the day leading up to this moment that made me believe that. I was you, it's the way that you opened up away from school and more than that it was the moon light bouncing off the frozen lake and into your hair that made me fall in love. That night I fell in love with the burrow, the lake, and most of all I fell in love with you.

I should have told you then. Instead I let it build until the secret felt like it was a part of me. Loving you from a distance became part of my everyday life. I am so sorry I didn’t tell you when I knew but I was so scared of losing you, both of you, that it felt impossible. You don’t have to like me back, you don’t even have to respond.

I just needed to finally tell you and I know that things are going to change when you leave, and while I am so excited for you I also knew that I couldn’t let you leave without saying this.

I love you

I let out a big sigh, catching the girl's attention. “I hate it” I grumbled leaning back in the grass. Ginny slid the paper from my lap and started to read it with Hermione just over her shoulder.

“I think it’s sweet,” Hermoine said.

“I think I should rewrite it,” I sat up to grab the paper but Ginny moved it out of reach. “Ginny I am serious,”

“No,” her voice was stern but I moved up to my knees to reach further to grab the paper. Hermoine stood up and took it from Ginny, clearly backing her up.

“Please, you guys, I just- I need to rewrite it,” Before either could respond Harry and Ron had started to make their way towards us. Hermoine slid the parchment into one of her books that she quickly put away before sticking her tongue out at me. I layer back in the grass accepting my fate and only slightly considering running away into the forbin forest to take my chances.

“What are you guys doing?” Ron asked mostly gesturing towards me and my obvious lack of twins nearby.

“I can’t want some girl time, Ronnie?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the sky, maybe I’ll sink into the grass if I remain still enough, I think to myself. Ron looks at Harry who just shrugs and I can hear Ginny's small giggle. That was enough to get me to my feet, I trust Ginny with my life but I suddenly feel like taking no risks.

“Well Fred and George were looking for you in the common room, said they would just see you at dinner.” Ron shrugged. Hermoine looked at me with a grin and I rolled my eyes. They were right though, it was about time to head to dinner.

“Did they head down already?” I tried to seem casual as I asked, Ron nodded but before he could say anything he was interrupted by Hermoine.

“Can you guys walk back to the common room with me? I don’t want to bring my bag to dinner,” she asked turning to Ginny and I, We both nodded and she turned back to the boys, “See you at dinner, try not to get into trouble on the way there,” and with that she turned on her heel and Ginny and I followed behind her.

After what felt like the most stressful ten minutes of my life, the three of us finally headed down to dinner. My nerves had spiked to an all time high. Per the rules I sat across from the boys and next to Hermoine who tried to keep me sane throughout the meal. As the minutes ticked by I almost forgot what was waiting for Fred in his room.

We joked as usual only this time with a lot more Hermoine who was my absolute hero, while she kept me out of my own head Ginny, on the other side of her, shot me dramatic barely subtle winks. Dinner had started to wind down and while most of the students were still in their seats talking to friends they otherwise couldn't. I felt like I was going to explode if I sat at the table any longer.

“Well I don’t know about you lot but I can’t eat another bite so I’m heading up,” Fred and George got up with me as well as Ginny and Hermione who were desperate to see what was going to happen. Once out of umbridge's sight Fred swung an arm over my shoulder.

“So where were you all day?” He asked with his signature grin, I laughed and shook my head.

“You mean the two hours I wasn’t with you two?” He nodded, “I ran into Ginny and Hermoine and decided to talk to them for a while. Why? Did you miss me?” I teased scrunching up my nose at him.

“Terribly, had to talk to George and all he wants to talk about is Angela,” Fred nudged his brother from over my shoulder.

“The absolute horror,” I joke walking through the door to the common room. George scoffed as he followed his brother in.

“You two are just jealous,” he said plopping in the chair Ginny and Hermione were sitting at one of the tables doing a very bad job of pretending to study and I sat down in the love seat where Fred had sat as well.

“What are we jealous of?” I asked George who sighed like it should be obvious.

“Love,” he responded and I bursted into laughter, I couldn’t help it given what I had just spent the day doing. I cleared my throat before I spoke.

“Sorry, I just thought you were going to say that we were jealous because you have the record for most words spoken in a single minute,” I teased, causing Fred to laugh, I tried to hold back my blush.

“You two are mean,” George said, standing up and heading towards the stairs only for Lee to come down them before George could say whatever he was about to. Lee had a huge grin on his face and it was like the missing piece to a puzzle clicked in for Ginny Hermoin and I all at the same time, Lee shared a room with Fred and George, Lee was not at dinner tonight, the letter. I looked at Ginny in horror who had the same look on her face.

“Where have you been?” Fred asked, causing Lee to grin.

“In our room, reading.” Fuck.

“Reading?” George asked, dropping his dramatics. Lee just nodded, stealing George’s seat by the fire. I sat hoping that he left the note alone. By the way he looked at me. I know he had read it.

“Why weren’t you at dinner?” I asked desperately, needing a change of subject. Lee once again just shrugged the small grin on his face growing. I pleaded with him silently to stop. Lee may be an ass but he’s a good guy. He let out a sigh.

“With upcoming events I figured I should clean up and besides I stole food from the kitchen earlier.” His eyes slid from Fred to the stairs and back again. I risked a glance at Ginny and Hermoine and by the looks on their faces I knew that George had gon upstairs.

“I’ll be back, I am freezing.” I said as casually as I could. Once I reached the stairs I turned back around and pointed at Lee. “Do not steal my spot,” I hoped it came off as a joke and based on Freds laugh it did, I hurried up the stairs and rushed to Fred's room. As soon as I opened the door I saw George reading the letter. “Please, don’t do that.” I said, trying to catch my breath.

George turned around with a grin on his face, “Well you put it out in the open,”

“Hermoine, put it there,” George laughed.

“That's what you get for not having me help you,” I let out a sigh. I couldn’t even think of what to say. “Come on, let's go back down there before everyone comes up here looking for us” George put his arm around my shoulder and guided me to the door.

“Thanks, but also you are an ass,” He laughed, pulling a smile to my face as well. I broke off from George to go to my room and get out of my school uniform. A nice pair of sleep short and a tank top, as I was about to leave my room I remembered the excuse I had given to get up here and grabbed the seater off of my bed before heading down after pulling it over my head.

Making my way down the stairs I heard George and Lee arguing about who had to sit on the floor, trying not to draw either attention. I climbed over the back of the couch and slid back down in my seat next to Fred to watch the two argue. Before I knew it I felt a brush of hair against my cheek and Fred was whispering in my ear. “When did you steal my sweater?” I looked down and he was right, of course, A big F was plastered on the front of the sweater I was wearing.

I turned to face him, our noses almost brushing and I felt my face heat up, “You left it in my room, so it's more of an abandoned property situation.” Fred laughed and gave me a small shrug “Keep it for when you miss me,” he said with a wink before pulling away. I forced myself to laugh and look back at the two fighting boys, who were now peacefully sitting Lee on the chair and George sitting on the ground looking grumpy.

“You know there is more than one chair right?” I asked a very unamused george.

“This is the best chair,” Lee said with a grin. I rolled my eyes. Ginny caught my eye and waved me over.

“Well Georgie, it is your lucky day you can have my seat, I am needed elsewhere,” I said standing from my spot and walking to the two girls.

“Nice sweater,” Lee yelled after me. I responded by flipping him off causing the twins to laugh. Once safely at the table Ginny leaned over to me and whispered.

“What happened? Did George read the letter?” I nodded.

“And so did Lee,”Hermoine looked cranky that the plan didn’t work out smoothly.

“Well the night is not over,” Ginny added.

“Don’t remind me,”

It seemed like forever had gone by when I felt someone slide into the seat next to me. I looked over to see George glancing over the papers in front of us as though we were writing more love letters. “Don’t freak,” George said and I turned around to see that Fred was gone from his seat. The girls grinned as they caught on to the conversation and I looked at George in a panic.

He dropped his grin and nudged my shoulder pulling my attention back to the stack of papers in front of us, “what are you guys working on?” I knew he didn’t actually care but I welcomed even the weakest distraction.

“Helping Ginny with an essay,” I kept listening for any sound coming down the stars but everything was quiet. Ginny started to explain what her essay was about to a very uninterested George while I watched the stairs from the corner of my eye.

An excruciating amount of time went by before Lee went up to the room, probably just as impatient as the rest of us. We heard his laughter coming down before we actually saw him. Panic once again ran through me.

“He’s asleep,” Lee said almost doubling over, “Didn’t even see it,” He added once catching his breath.

“How could you possibly know that,” Hermoine asked.

“Talked to him before he fell asleep, said he laid down, didn’t turn on a light or anything,” The laughter started to bubble up in Lee’s voice again and for the first time since writing the letter I felt like I took a full breath.

“Well, in that case, I am going to bed.” I said getting up from the table. Once in bed I couldn’t stop my mind from running. Part of me wanted to sneak into the room and take the letter back, the other was just happy that the secret was finally going to come out. I fell asleep that night thinking of the what ifs.

The next morning I woke up to Hermione yelling at me to get up. I pulled the blanket over my head, and mumbled something about going away.

“If you don’t get up right now we are going to be late!” The panic in her voice pulled me out of bed and as I threw on my uniform I glanced at the clock to see we had seven minutes to make it to class. I threw my bag over my shoulder and followed her down the stairs

“Why didn’t you just go?” I asked as we made it down the girls stairs.

“Didn’t want you to get in trouble,” she replied, not turning around. Climbing down the last couple stairs I almost ran right into Fred.

“Hey,” he started before I cut him off.

“Hey Freddie, no time is going to be late.” I threw over my shoulder as I rushed out the common room. We made it with seconds to spare.As we left class hermione kept giving me weird looks. She said nothing as we made it back to the common room where Fred, George, and Ginny were sitting at one of the tables Hermione and I dropped into nearby arm chairs and for a moment I felt like I could fall asleep.

“You look dead,” Ginny said with a laugh. I opened my eyes to see she was talking to me.

“Yeah, well, I’m the idiot who let Hermione talk her into taking early morning classes with her.” I fought off a yawn before sitting up. The whole table was looking at me like I was supposed to say something. “What are you guys doing?” I asked and looked at Hermoine who was also looking at me like I was crazy. George started to laugh, bringing Lee with him Fred on the other hand continued to fidget with a piece of paper in his hands.

Fuck.

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t even sure I knew how to think but before I could panic too much about it my mouth started to speak.

“You read it?” Fred looked over to me and the table fell quite once more.

“Of course.” Ginny ushered everyone away from the table and I sat up straighter suddenly feeling the anxiety closing in.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to rewrite it. I should have let them rewrite it. I shouldn’t have-“ Fred suddenly stood up and slipped the letter into his pocket before walking to me and holding out his hand. I took it hoping that he couldn’t feel my heartbeat the way I could.

“You love me?” He asked, his gaze locked on my hand. I nodded.

“Yes.” I said I needed something, anything, to fill the quiet. He pulled on my hand tugging me to his chest, his eyes suddenly locked on mine.

“Say it, please” something about being this close to Fred gave me all the confidence I could need. The way he was looking at me felt like we were the only two people in the world and I had no problem giving him what he asked for.

“I love you,” the words had barely left my mouth when his lips touched mine. He let go of my hand in favor of putting one hand on my waist and the other on my cheek to hold me closer. I allowed one of my hands to play with the hair on the back of his neck.

He pulled away, pressing his forehead against mine and meeting my eyes. “I love you,” he said smiling, pulling a soft laugh from me before I pulled him back in for a kiss. I could feel him smiling into it and I couldn’t help but smile back.

The sounds of clapping pulled us from our moment and I turned to see a very amused Lee and George clapping away as Hermione and Ginny looked at them in disappointment. I couldn’t help but laugh as I looked up at Fred and rolled my eyes.

He pulled me into him before leading us to one of the couches to sit down. “I’m going to write to you everyday.” Fred whispered in my ear as our friends chatted away. I looked up at him before speaking.

“You better,” I joked, pulling a laugh from him. My eyes drifted to his smile and before I knew it he was kissing me again. It wasn’t as long as the others but it was just as perfect.

Later that night I sat in the cozy chair in the corner of a mostly empty room, my cheeks warm and the echoes of fireworks in my ears counting how many days till I could feel his lips on mine again.

#weasley family #harry potter fanfiction #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #george weasley #ginny weasley #lee jordan #fred x you #fred x y/n #fred x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n

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mrfutureboy · 3 years ago

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May I ask for some Trans Marty headcanons 👉👈🥺 (only if you want to ofc)

hi anon! for sure!

tho honestly im not sure i have many that are my own?? there are so many people in the fandom that spend more time thinking (in general) and that have come up with some amazing headcanons that i subscribe to so admittedly i havent spent as much time thinking up hc’s myself! well, maybe this isnt true in the case of marlene mcfly but this post isnt about her lol. so mostly this’ll probably end up being a list of things other people have said/pointed out. that said, if i mention a hc thats yours just be like “hey thats from my post!” and i’ll link u because i honestly cant remember who said what anymore

edit: added links to op’s of various hcs

so first of all, his layers. layers on layers on layers to hide the shape of his body is so trans masc of him. this is literally canon so it doesnt even count. (x, x)

but i’ll quickly mention some other things people have pointed out that are supported by canon: everyone calling him “mcfly” instead of his first name, twin pines lorraine not liking jennifer for no real reason except maybe thinking marty shouldnt be dating a girl at all (x)

i have NO idea what hrt was like in the 80s, if it were even available at all, but i like the hc that doc brews up some homemade testosterone for his good pal marty (x) man of all sciences, right? honestly doc was probably already making t for himself (trans doc ftw) and then marty came out to him and he was like i have just the thing.

going off that, doc probably helps him with his shots bc i think marty’s a big baby when it comes to needles.

again, resources in the 1980’s are not something i know about but given the climate and technology i doubt there was an extensive handbook on transmasculinity and safely binding. so marty’s methods of binding were probably not very safe, in terms of what he used and how long he wore it. tho @rovermcfly’s recent post about mjf’s harness looking like a binder (x)could support a hc that doc made marty a binder. as his friend and an elder trans guy you know he’s looking out for him. but when marty’s not binding…layers on layers on layers. side note i would hope marty wasnt wearing a binder when he got to 1955 cuz oh GOD he wouldve been wearing that for way too fucking long and with everything that physically happened to him in the first like 12 hrs of him being there he’d surely have some lasting damage

this is mostly a joke hc but marty comes to doc one day and is complaining about his chest while doc’s working on something, and towards the end of marty’s rant doc turns around holding up a knife and martys like whoa uhh im not so sure about that, doc and doc just turns back around. this doesnt ever happen again or get brought up so marty’s not sure if doc was kidding or not. also makes marty wonder if he’d done it before (doc’s got a flat chest after all) and then he starts looking around for stray squirrels with stitches a la frankensteins monster lol

i like @rovermcfly ‘s hc that marty saw “martin seamus” in his family tree and was like yep thats my name (x) which honestly fits really well with canon like how are you going to name ur first son david tiberius, ur daughter linda [no middlename], but then when you get to your third kid suddenly be like “lets do a really traditional family name”. Unlikely.

marty probably came out to doc first. doc quickly made him feel safe and loved and comfortable so yeah i can imagine doc knew before anyone else. and then jennifer and then lastly (maybe accidentally) his parents

Lorraine probably had a fucking conniption when marty first cut all his hair off. also i hate to say it but i feel like she was the least supportive parent (not that george was raving about it) in the twin pines timeline. all im going to say about lone pine lorraine here is that she came around faster (or at least started to) than her counterpart, my justification being the breakfast scene at the end of the movie compared to the dinner scene earlier re: jennifer

personally i dont feel like marty’s been out for longer than a few years but idk thats just a gut feeling i dont have anything else to say abt that

Umm yeah thats all i have to say atm! Thank u anon for the ask :3 and again, if anyone recognizes any posts ive referenced, please @ me so i can link them here!

#signed sealed delivered #anon #bttf posting #marty mcfly #bttf

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rosy-cheekx · 4 years ago

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Heard you were looking for prompts :) 1 of 2 - From favorite tropes: Blind date set up by mutual friends! And maybe combined with "I'm speechless you're so beautiful" from the fluff & kisses (and other stuff) prompts. Go wild with it!

This will go to AO3 soon, but it was a lot of fun to write and a nice distraction from any hypothetical realities the TMA fandom may be experiencing.

Double-Blind: 5K

Martin smelled like espresso. He wrinkled his nose and dusted his hands on his apron uselessly, as if doing so would rid himself of the months of coffee, cinnamon, and hazelnut baked into his skin. It wasn’t all that bad, he supposed, except what was the point in using cologne if it was going to be immediately overpowered?

The bell above the door jingled and Martin jumped, pulled from his thoughts on cologne and what he would like to smell like, given the opportunity. Sandalwood, maybe? Tobacco and vanilla? The musky-sweet smells are nice, they have a nice mix of feminine and masculine to them, almost—

“Ahem.” An exaggerated clearing of the throat, once again whisking him from his distractions. Martin locked eyes on the woman across the counter from him, grinning mischievously. “Welcome back to Earth, Martin.”

“Oh! Oh. It’s just you. Hi, Georgie.” Georgie Barker, a regular customer, moderately well-known podcast host, and most importantly, one of Martin’s favorite people to see at the tiny coffee shop he spent more time in than his own flat.

“Just me? Excuse me.” Georgie pouted and crossed her arms, coily hair bouncing around her face as she shook her head. “I’ll have you know you should be grateful to see me this fine afternoon, Martin Koffee Blackwood!”

Martin grinned and dropped the act. “I always am, Georgie. But I told you, there’s not a—”

“Like I said, you should be happy to see me.” Georgie barreled on. “I have good news.” She cocked her head and pondered the chalk-covered board behind the counter. “Two chai lattes, please. And make one of them extra spicy?”

Martin rang up the order and passed two cups down to Rosie, all the while checking the door surreptitiously, ensuring a little chat wouldn’t hold anyone up. “Okay? Spill.”

Georgie’s phone was in her hand, and she waved it at Martin like it contained the secrets of the universe. “D’you remember my roommate, Melanie?”

Martin nodded, pursing his lips. “Vaguely. I thought you guys were dating.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.

Georgie waved a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Not the point. Anyways, she has a friend of a friend-“ Georgie frowned for a moment, “…of a friend who is looking to get back into dating. Mel says he’s short and nerdy and prickly until you get to know him. Apparently a real pain to work with according to the friend.” Georgie smirked and pulled a sticky note from her back pocket. “Thought maybe you’d want his number.”

Martin grimaced at the blue piece of paper as she smoothed it to the counter with a firm motion. “Wow, George. Really selling it.” It was his fault; they had bonded over being queer back in July when Martin had worn his gay and trans pride buttons and Georgie was proudly sporting her own pansexual patch firmly affixed to her laptop case. One lunch break discussing quirky exes later, their friendship had been sealed. Mentioning offhandedly that he was on dating apps and hating every minute of it seemed to have rooted itself in Georgie’s mind and had grown like weeds until she had taken it upon herself to become his personal wing woman.

“Do you even know his name?” Martin asked, regarding the string of numbers on the piece of paper in front of him.

Georgie blushed, shrugging apologetically. “Friend of a friend of a friend. Sorry mate. Melanie said he likes cats, documentaries, and-” she made air quotes with her fingers, “-being uptight.”

“Wow.” Martin chuckled in disbelief. “Really selling it here.”

Rosie sidled by Martin and set down Georgie’s lattes, who shrugged and picked them up after dropping a few coins in the tip jar. “You have his number. Just think about it, Blackwood. Melanie’s friend doesn’t spread the word about someone unless they’re something special.” She blew a kiss (clumsily, considering the cups requiring the attention of each of her hands) and made her way to the door.

“I just want you to be happy!” She called out as the January winds pulled her out the door and into the grey afternoon.

Martin chewed on his lip as he considered. January was always a tough month for him, and he had been feeling a little lonely recently. He really didn’t see anyone besides his coworkers, customers, and his mother. As much as he enjoyed his job, he wouldn’t call anyone there a romantic interest. He folded the sticky note and stuck it in his pocket as his next customer approached the counter. He did like cats, after all. Maybe that would be a good starting conversation.

Jonathan Sims groaned and shifted the stack of books in his hand as he inspected the knee-high table that was buried amongst the fiction books. He hated working the children’s section of the library. Although no food or drink was allowed, there always seemed to be crumbs everywhere. He was starting to wonder if children just manifested them. He made a mental note to come back with disinfectant wipes after putting the stack of child-suitable biographies away and turned, nearly walking straight into the chest of one Timothy Stoker.

“A-ah!” Jon jumped instinctively backward, clutching the books closer to his chest in an attempt to keep from dropping them. “Tim! Good lord, there’s really no need to be sneaking up on me like that.”

Tim grinned wryly and shrugged, taking half of the books from Jon’s arms. “Sorry boss, thought you heard me.” He gestured for Jon to lead the way through the half-sized bookshelves; an unnecessary act seeing as Tim worked the children’s library much more frequently than Jon did.

“I’m not your-” Jon sighed, deciding this wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on today. He made his way through the shelves, sliding books into their correct placements with practiced hands. “Do you need something?”

“Actually,” Tim checked a Dewey code and slid a book into a shelf a few rows down. “I don’t. But you do.”

Jon stared blankly, uncomprehending. Tim chuckled and gestured with a cock of his head towards the research section. “Melanie said she has a friend who has a friend she wants to set up on a date. And while normally, I’d jump at the chance-” he waved his left hand, the silver ring inset with tiny diamonds flashing in the fluorescents, “I’ve been wifed up and I don’t think my dear Sash would appreciate my going on a blind date with a stranger.”

Jon frowned, setting his stack of books down and eyeing Tim. “What, so I have to?”

Tim shook his head, a patient smile on his face. “No, no one is forcing you. I just think—well. It’s been a while since your last relationship and you’ve been a little…testy, recently.” The look on Tim’s face dared Jon to contradict. “Melanie says he’s apparently a really good guy, very kind and sweet and patient. I think his name is Melvin? I kinda tuned out after she wrote down the number she got from her friend.”

Jon scoffed, pushing his glasses up his face as if that would help him comprehend the absolute ridiculousness of what Tim was saying. “Y-You want me to go on a date with this guy, Melvin? Because I’ve been…grumpy? That doesn’t seem very kind to this mysterious date.”

Tim pursed his lips. “I just think you could benefit from seeing someone who doesn’t work here. I mean, we love you Jon, but god, you need to get a social life. I’m practically begging you.” Tim’s purse elongated into a pout, eyes going big and starry. Jon inwardly groaned. Tim was his oldest friend here at the library and he really never learned how to resist that face. Maybe he should ask Sasha.

“One date,” Jon promised. “I’ll do one date. And then you never set me up again.”

Tim grabbed the rest of the books Jon had set down and added them to his stack before whisking himself away down the aisles. “If we’re lucky, I’ll never have to!” He called down the aisles, grinning madly. Jon sighed and grabbed a small pink sticky note that had been stuck to the countertop, running his eyes over the numbers before slipping it into his pocket. He’ll call later.

Martin stared resolutely at the numbers on the blue sticky note, running his thumb over the curled edge of the paper, slightly stained from some sort of milk during the shift. Even his apron pockets weren’t foolproof. The underground was busy and he was jammed between an older woman who smelled weirdly like salmon and a man who seemed utterly too well-dressed to be on the tube. Elbows crammed into his side to keep from nudging anyone, he pulled out his phone and stared at the messaging app for what felt like several minutes. He typed the numbers into the message bar and watched his cursor blip in the body of the message.

Hey whats up?

No, that would be so weird.

Hiya, this is martin!

Georgie never said the man’s name, would this mysterious date know his?

Hey I think the alphabet is missing I and U together.

Gross. Just gross. Martin grimaced inwardly and chewed on his lip, thinking carefully before typing.

Hi! My name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, I get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

As he finished typing, he heard the familiar robotic voice of the tube announcing his stop. Quickly, Martin shoved the phone in his pocket and carefully forced his way through the crowd and onto the platform, mind cast to what he had accessible for dinner.

----

It took Jon a few days, until Saturday, to remember to call the phone number they had been given. They could text, they supposed, but they always appreciated hearing someone’s intonation a little better. Especially a stranger, ugh, they shuddered at the idea of not being able to decipher the tone of this Melvin. It was half-past 11 when they decided to call, hoping this would be late enough in the morning to not wake him up.

The phone rang momentarily before a surprisingly feminine voice answered the phone. “Hello. This is Rosie. You’ve reached Swirl Café and Bakery.”

Well shit. This was not what Jon expected. They stumbled over their rehearsed speech, trying to scramble words together in a way that made sense. “Uh-sorry, I must have the wrong number. I-I was trying to speak to Melvin?”

“Mmm, sorry. No Melvin works here. We have a Martin, but he’s off the clock. Would you like to speak to our manager?” Rosie’s voice was clipped and courteous, but Jon could hear the bustle of voices in the background. It must be their weekend rush.

“Ah-uh, no, no thank you.” Jon shook their head into the phone, before remembering that did not translate aurally. “It’s alright. Thank you anyways.”

“Sorry, mate. Thanks for calling!” The dial tone droned on for a moment before Jon hung up, sighing and pressing the heels of their hands into their eyes. That was a waste. Melanie must have been playing them; Jon knew they generally didn’t get along, but they didn’t realize she would stoop so low. Honestly, shame on themself for getting excited about a date.

Later that evening, Jon was cooking and listening to music through the speaker that balanced precariously on a shelf next to their stove. The music was low, with a variety of orchestral instruments and sultry, smooth voices. Jon’s eyes were half closed as they stirred the curry in the pan in front of them, letting the music and heat of the kitchen entangle them in a sleepy feeling relaxing their whole body. As the cello in the song dipped low and resonant, Jon stood still, letting the music sweep them away—

They jumped as the ringer alerted them through the speaker that they had received a text, glaringly electronic compared to the rich notes of cello and viola that had been so rudely interrupted. Sleepy feeling gone as adrenaline washed through their body, Jon sighed and retrieved their phone, checking for the message.

An unknown number flicked across the screen:

Hi! my name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, i get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

i meant to send this a few days ago but I never hit send. sorry ab that! rosie said someone called the café asking ab me and i assumed that was you bc i wasnt expecting anyone else and no one involved in the blind date thing ever asked for my mobile number.

if it wasn’t you, oops! either way it reminded me that i had never texted you. :)

Jon squinted at the screen as they read the messages a few times over. That was…a lot of words. So his name was Martin. It was certainly nicer than Melvin. Jon agonized over their words as they typed out a response.

Hello Martin. That was me who called the café…I hope it didn’t cause problems for you. Blind dates aren’t usually my thing, but my coworkers think I need to get out more. I’d be happy to meet you for dinner or coffee. Even if we don’t get along, we can say we’ve done it.

Unless, of course, you’re rather sick of coffee. I prefer tea anyways.

…not “done it” done it. Just. Had the blind date.

Jon winced at their follow up texts. God, that was embarrassing. Martin probably didn’t even take it that way until they bothered to clarify. They shook their head, warding away the growing anxiety in their chest and tucked their phone in their pocket as they turned their attention back to the simmering curry. Jon had embarrassed themselves enough for one night.

----

Martin chuckled at the texts that came through; one slow and the two follow-ups rapid. He could feel the awkwardness through the messages, desperately trying to give a good impression. He chuckled to himself as he set down his dinner plate.

dinner sounds perfect. but same about the tea! and about the coworkers tbh, my friends think im making friends with the espresso machine. which, i am, but only bc its good company haha.

btw i never got your name?

Martin’s phone was silent the rest of the night, as he plodded his way through a mediocre dinner and shower before settling into his armchair, desperate to work on his poetry. Words came slowly to him recently, thoughts about the world and darkness and the intersection of fall and winter. He really should up and move to somewhere warmer, he thought to himself, before laughing the notion away aloud. Yeah, right. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the poetry prompts book he had found at the charity shop. “Use noncolor words to describe a color.” Great. Martin settled back and tried to focus, but kept finding himself checking his phone impulsively, the foamed latte art he’d photographed, one of a cat he was particularly proud of, stared back at him judgmentally.

As he drew his evening to a close, Martin almost missed the buzz of his phone, now plugged in by his bed, as he brushed his teeth.

Congrats on the espresso machine. And my name is Jon. Anywhere you want to go for dinner?

________________________________________________________________

Jon hesitated, thumb hovering over the icon that would open a video chat with Tim. He didn’t want to come off nervous, but… he was.

Texting had been going well. Martin was good at keeping the conversation going and genuinely seemed to enjoy the long texts Jon had sent regarding his irritations with the research he was conducting as a part of his master’s in literature, asking him questions about details Jon had added for context. Martin was easy to talk to, too, he always seemed to have an opinion on subjects but always ones Jon was happy to hear, even if he was objectively wrong about spiders and oolong tea. Martin had sent an awkward text, letting Jon know he was trans and that if that was a dealbreaker he should tell him now, one Jon had blushed over and responded that he was nonbinary himself, and that it certainly wasn’t. The “okay fantastic! :))) remind me of your pronouns? he/him for me.” that followed it up had made Jon’s heart sing.

They had agreed to meet at an Italian place, equidistant between their flats and not too fancy. Martin had commented about getting ice cream after, but Jon wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, since it had also been a jab about Jon’s preference for rum raisin. Thus, he was staring at his wardrobe, paralyzed with indecision. Tim had offered to help, which Jon had initially rejected since he’s “not a child Tim, I’ve dated before. And I know how to dress myself.” But lord if he wasn’t wishing for someone to lay out his clothes and tell him to behave. He grimaced and jabbed the video chat button, bracing for the onslaught of teasing to come.

----

Martin adjusted his collar for what must have been the twelfth time, sucking on his lip as he waited at the reserved table. He hadn’t been there long, no more than five minutes, but his anxiety had been building up all day and a part of him was absolutely certain Jon wasn’t going to come. Neither of them knew what the other looked like; what if Jon saw him and had dipped out immediately? He was wearing mint green, as he had promised, so Jon would recognize him, and brought a bouquet of daisies, mostly because it felt weird not to bring anything, but he didn’t want to be too romantic. Not roses or anything. Besides, Jon said he liked daisies, said they reminded him of an old friend. Martin hoped it wasn’t too weird. He brushed his auburn curls out of the way of his eyes, part of him regretting not having gotten a haircut first, but he tucked those thoughts aside as he surveyed the restaurant from his vantage point.

He blinked in confusion as he watched long curls make their way towards him. Dark black hair, streaked with white, half bunned up in the back and rest left to hang loose, skimming purple-covered elbows. Martin wasn’t sure if they were wearing flowy grey pants or a skirt, but either way, the faint black pattern to them was stunning and Martin couldn’t help but watch the swoosh of the hemlines. As the person got closer, Martin realized they were tiny, stylized eyes.

“Ah-you’re Martin, right?” It took Martin a second to realize this absolutely beautiful person was talking to him.

“hmm—Oh! Yes! You must be Jon.” Martin stood, unsure whether he should shake Jon’s hand or hug him or? But Jon solved the problem himself by sitting, and so Martin did as well. “It’s nice to finally meet you…in person, that is,” he added, grinning shyly. “You look lovely, by the way.”

Jon blushed. “Ah, thank you. Y-You too. O-or handsome, whichever you prefer.” He sipped his water and fidgeted with his hands, eyes flicking around the room nervously before coming around to rest on Martin.

Martin shrugged. “A compliment is a compliment, they all work. Speaking of—what pronouns are you feeling today? I remember you saying it varies.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “I’m not going to pitch a fit either way, but ‘he’ is just fine.” It was nice to be asked. The library respected his pronouns, of course, but something about Martin going out of his way to make sure he was on the same page was… It made Jon’s heart thud deep in his chest.

They made small talk about the travel, the weather, Italian food preferences until the waiter came and relieved the tension. Martin felt his shoulders relax after they both ordered; it felt more real somehow.

“So,” Martin asked, sipping his water demurely, a smile tinged on his lips. “Melvin, huh?”

Jon choked on air for a moment. His mouth gaped open and shut again and Martin couldn’t help the grin overtook him. Jon’s embarrassment was sweet; his cheeks flushed and he bowed his head slightly. It was a lovely look on him. “For the record, that’s what I was told by my coworker, Tim.” Jon made air quotes with his fingers. “‘Melvin or something.’ Who was I to question your name?”

“Right, and I’m glad you respect names ‘n’ all. But Melvin?” Martin chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not the decimal system guy.”

“Nn-mmm,” Jon shook his head, nose wrinkled in a way Martin found particularly cute. “That’s Melville. Melville Dewey.” Jon emphasized, back straightening. “Distinctly different. I’m a librarian, actually.”

“Oh!” Martin blinked. “That makes sense. You work with Melanie, then, I assume?”

Jon grimaced again. “Unfortunately.”

“She’s not that bad!” Martin insisted. “I’ve met her once or twice and she’s been very polite.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “For someone who’s getting a degree in parapsychology, she seems very judgmental.”

“Oh? And what are you studying again?”

“English Lit-hey!”

Martin grinned behind his glass of water. “Just saying, I haven’t met an English Lit student who wasn’t obscenely pretentious.”

Jon faltered for a second and slumped his shoulders in defeat, though his voice still seemed to carry humor, albeit dry. “Unfortunately, I am no exception.”

“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Dinner arrived smoothly, shrimp scampi for Jon and eggplant parmesan for Martin. They ate slowly, chatting more about Jon’s graduate degree, Martin’s affinity for fiction and poetry, and their shared interest in tea.

“So, are you vegetarian?” Jon gestured to the eggplant on Martin’s plate. Martin wobbled his head slightly, not quite a negatory shake of the head.

“It’s complicated. My mother has—had—a sensitive stomach so we didn’t eat meat growing up. I think that turned me off the taste. And there’s something about the texture,” he shuddered. “Weirds me out.”

Jon’s eyes were sharp, boring holes into Martin’s in a way he should have found alarming, but instead found soothing. “Mine, too.” His tone—softer, almost reverent, clued Martin in: he wasn’t talking about being vegetarian.

Martin nodded, and gently placed a hand on Jon’s, the one that hovered near his drinking glass. “I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a moment, Jon’s hand was small and warm under his, and Martin could feel a thin silver bracelet clinging to his wrist. Martin was amazed by how perfectly his fingers rested over Jon’s, how nice it must feel to hold hands with him on a walk or side by side against the world. Jon cleared his throat suddenly and reached for his glass, gulping down water while staring steadfastly at his plate.

Martin felt his own blush rise through his cheeks and pushed a stray noodle around his plate. “So, here’s a question,” he began, eager to clear the tension. “You said earlier your friend Tim gave you the number to Swirl, right? I don’t know a Tim. So how did he know me?”

Jon frowned, cocking his head. “Technically, I got the number from Tim but that was via Melanie. She said her roommate was friends with…well, friends with you.”

“Mmhmm, that makes sense. I know Georgie from the coffee shop.” He was about to continue when he saw absolutely paralyzed look on Jon’s face. “You…you alright?”

Jon was stock still, pausing the forkful of shrimp that was en route to his mouth. “Sorry, Melanie’s roommate is Georgie?”

Martin nodded slowly. “Yeah, Georgie Barker, that podcaster. She gets her an extra-spicy chai latte from Swirl most days and that’s about the most I know of the relationship. Why, you know her?”

Jon put the fork down, shrimp forgotten, and sighed, running his thumbs along the bridge of his nose, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses up to his eyebrows. “Y-yes, she’s kind of…my ex.”

It was Martin’s turn to freeze. “Sorry?”

“Mmm, yeah, we decided we were better as friends. It was back in Oxford. But I don’t exactly see her often much anymore.” Jon winced at his own words, as if he knew how bad they sounded.

Martin sat back in disbelief, chuckling to himself. “Y’know, she said you were a ‘friend of a friend of a friend.’ D’you think she even knew it was you?”

Jon cocked his head in thought. “I guess not. I mean, I think the whole library staff has been gunning for me to relieve some tension. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been looking for a blind date for me for months now.”

Martin grinned, eyes sparkling. “Well, no matter. It was lucky for me.” Lucky again, was Martin, when he was rewarded with Jon’s warm blush.

----

The bill had been a painful affair, with both Jon and Martin vying for the privilege of paying. Martin struck a deal: he’d pay for the dinner, and Jon would pay for ice cream. Jon knew the differences would widely outweigh when it came to cost but he relented, and the self-satisfied smirk that blossomed over Jon’s face was payment enough.

Martin pointed out the ice cream parlor was a few blocks away and, though it was January, they decided to walk. The fresh snow on the ground glinted against the orange street lamps, and Jon laughed under his breath at the way Martin took great care to step on any unusually large clumps of snow, like he had a personal vendetta. When Jon’s chuckle had made it past the scarf he had wound round his neck and mouth, Martin had glanced over, embarrassed.

“I like the sound of it,” he mumbled, suddenly very meek for a man his stature. It was, regretfully, endearing. Martin was tall, but he was big too, and it was obvious underneath the layer of soft cashmere and chub, there was rigid muscle, and beneath that still, a gentle heart. Jon was struck by him, in more ways he had prepared himself for, and it felt second nature to slide his gloved hand into Martin’s and give it a solid squeeze of acknowledgement.

“Do you think it’s too cold to get ice cream?” Jon asked, watching a cloud of breath float by his lips.

Martin shrugged. “Technically? Yes. But who’s going to tell on us?” Jon swung their entwined hands a little. “Unless…you don’t want to?” Martin added, eyes locking on Jon’s before his head followed.

Jon shook his head. “No, I want to. I believe we have a debt to settle and I have a personal score involving rum raisin.” Martin beamed, clearly pleased, and Jon was certain the snow around him melted right off with the warmth of his smile. Jon leant into Martin’s side a little, and they continued in silence until they reached the ice cream parlor, the entrance to which glowed with pink and white LEDs.

Jon smugly ordered a scoop of rum raisin and was delighted to find Martin “didn’t hate it,” though he insisted his mint chip was better. That was genuinely the best Jon could hope for; not even Georgie in all her unusual tastes enjoyed his rum raisin sensibility. “My grandmother loved it when I was a kid,” he explained between bites, stirring the ice cream with his spoon. “It was the only flavor she kept around the house.”

“Not even vanilla?” Martin gasped in mock disbelief. “Any sensible person would say you’ve been tricked into enjoying it.” Jon chuckled and elbowed Martin mildly.

Jon found himself lingering over the bowl, realizing that the end of their dessert meant an end to the date. Martin seemed to be acting similarly, putting his spoon down between bites and taking more and more thoughtful swallows between their bouts of conversation.

“You-you took the tube here, right?” Jon asked, setting his finally-empty bowl off to the side. At Martin’s confirmation, Jon clenched his fist below the table. “Do you want to walk to the station together?”

Martin’s eyes lit up, nodding eagerly. “I had meant to ask, actually! I wanted to make sure you got there safe.” Jon winced at the blush that overtook his cheeks, though it was easy to blame it on the chill of the ice cream and the frigid night.

The walk to the tube was longer and the pair, heavily sated by pasta and dairy, were quiet, making soft comments about the snow or the odd remaining Christmas decorations, hands clasped tightly and shoulders pressing into the other. The fluorescents of the underground shone brightly, normally a beacon calling travelers home in the night, but to Jon it felt like a dreadful curse. He truly hadn’t expected to enjoy his evening with Martin so much, but they had just clicked. It felt like a shame to let it go.

Swiping their cards, Jon and Martin passed through their respective turnstiles and stood at the bisecting tunnels through which the various lines waited to take them home. They faced each other in silence, hands still interlocked, unsure of how to begin.

“If you’d like to,” Jon murmured, eyes shifting focus to Martin’s curls, plastered to his forehead from the snow; his collar, peeking through his coat; the way the shell of his ear seemed to have a nick missing (was it from a childhood accident? Just the way it was grown?). “I’d like to go out again.”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand, and Jon’s eyes flitted back to Martin’s own; they were grey-blue and reminded Jon of his childhood sea. “Mmhmm, yeah.” Martin rolled his eyes at his own words and tried again. “Yes, Jon, I’d love that.” Martin moved to hug Jon, a gesture Jon eagerly accepted, relishing the warm arms encircling him and the feel of Martin’s chin resting on the crown of his head. As they pulled away, Martin’s eyes flitted across Jon’s face and the hand around his back moved, cautiously, to rest on the side of Jon’s neck.

“I…I don’t want to presume,” Martin said quietly, and Jon was distinctly aware of how empty, how big, the station was. “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Jon blinked rapidly, nodding wordlessly, before clearing his throat. “Ah, um, yes. Please.”

Martin’s smile was soft as he pressed his lips to the apex of Jon’s cheekbone, almost into his hairline. Jon was sure the blush that rose across his face this time certainly couldn’t be explained away by the snow, but he honestly wasn’t really sure he cared.

#tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #georgie barker #rosie zampano #tma rosie #tim stoker #meet cute #blind date au #this is my love letter to TMA #prompt answer #fanfic prompt

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

Little Lady (Bull Randleman x Reader)

So this is based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic and my own headcannon that Bull is super chill in his relationship and doesn’t get jealous easily but will go from cuddly teddy bear to terminator in a hot second if someone hurts his girl...and this was an excuse to write some Bull & Martin friendship.

Warnings: swearing, forced/coerced kiss, threats

Words:4400

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @saritanotserena @sydney-m

"I can do it."

"I don't mind helping."

I rolled my eyes at Arthur but handed him the crate. "Fine, but if you drop it, I'm gonna kick your ass."

He laughed, falling into step with me as we headed towards the supply trucks. "I would suspect nothing less from someone as fierce as you."

"I can't decide if you're flirting or trying to start a fight." I narrowed my eyes at him, even as we walked side by side.

"Oh, I would never fight you...you'd kick my ass, remember?" He winked those baby blues at me, the scar on his upper lip twitching at the movement.

"Mmm...so you're flirting?"

"Why? Is that a crime?"

I sighed. This was not the first time we had this discussion and honestly, I was getting sick of it. "Arthur, you know Sergeant Randleman is my man."

"I know. I don't know what you see in him though. He just looks like a country hick and I..."

"Stop," I interrupted, already knowing what he was going to say. Some flirting was fine but when someone began to question my relationship or degrade my boyfriend, then I took offense. Especially from someone I considered a friend. "We've had this discussion before and it won't change anything."

"Fine, I just..."

"Jesus Christ! Enough!"

"Ok ok, shit. I'm sorry. I just want you to be happy, alright?" He mumbled. A couple minutes passed between us in a tense, awkward silence as we continued walking before he bumped me cheekily. "So, he's your man? You're not his girl?"

"Damn right he's my man. I'm no one's girl."

Arthur laughed and followed me to the trucks. He shoved the crate on the flatbed of the one directed too. I adjusted the other crates, making room for the ones I still needed to grab eventually. We were supposedly leaving Aldbourne soon and I had volunteered to organize our extra supplies. I liked keeping busy and being organized came easy to me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him run his hand through his black hair, a nervous habit of his I had noticed. Soon he probably would need to get it cut. I wondered if someone in his company cut hair or if I should mention Liebgott to him. I bet for a pack of smokes Liebgott would cut it.

His voice jolted me back from my musings as he took a step closer to me. "Some of us are going out for drinks tonight at the bar. Come join us."

"They call them pubs here. Remember, we're in England."

"Pubs, right. So... you coming?"

I sighed, trying to figure out how I could nicely say no. Again. Most of the other companies did not like having a female paratrooper amongst them. More than one had gotten in my face about it, especially back in Toccoa. Now it just made sense for me to stick with Easy.

Arthur was one of the few exceptions. We had bumped into each other on the troopship over and next thing I knew we had been talking for hours, comparing different books, plays and films. His family was a huge advocate for the arts and it showed in his passionate rants. He also had an easy-going, if flirtatious, manner about him, always trying to make me laugh and check up on me whenever we saw each other. Though lately, he had begun making his intentions known and while flattering, I only saw him as a friend.

Before I could let him down again, he was frequently asking me to go to the pubs with him, I heard my name called loudly. Glancing down the road, I saw several members of Easy's First Platoon sitting or standing around a table, with most smoking or playing cards, or both. More importantly I saw HIM.

I could not help the stupid smile, not even paying attention as a frown appeared on Arthur’s face. "I'll see you around, Arthur."

Without waiting for his response, I started towards the group. Although technically they were not my platoon, they welcomed me with open arms as I frequently found myself in their company.

"Hey! It's our favorite Corporal!" George Luz announced, passing out a new round of cards to those at the table, a cigarette hanging between his lips.

"That's only cause I get cigarettes for you guys."

"Eh, you're an angel."

I laughed with the guys as I finally reached them. It was nice to see everyone relaxing under the shade of the large tree, finally receiving a much needed break from drills and field trainings. I did wonder where they stole the table and chairs from since I had never seen it out here before.

Denver "Bull" Randleman stood on the other side, watching me with a slight curve of his lips, even around the cigar. My heart skipped a beat as I met his eyes, moving around the table towards him. Automatically, he raised his arm just enough for me to slip under it. It was a practiced, almost subconscious, movement between us by now. "Hey, little lady."

"Hey, handsome.” I smiled up at him, a wave of happiness crashing over me. A very familiar feeling whenever I was in his presence, even more so since we started a relationship.

"Who was that you was talking to?" Johnny Martin asked, standing on Randleman's other side. His typical scowl on his face, eyes narrowed, as he stared from me back to where I had just come from.

"Oh, Private Arthur Cox." I supplied, not thinking much about it.

"From Charlie Company?" Floyd Talbert looked up from the card game.

"Yeah."

"I heard from a reliable source that he's been flirting with you." Talbert continued, trading two of the cards in his hand.

"Is that so?" Luz looked back at me, a mischievous grin on his face. "Know anything about that?"

"It's not a big deal. He's just friendly." I shrugged, feigning disinterest. I really did not want them to know all the things Arthur had been saying lately.

"Hear that, Bull! He's just friendly. You better watch your girl." Luz chuckled.

"Hey! I ain't his girl!"

Bull pulled the cigar from his mouth, giving me a small squeeze as he spoke. "It's alright, darlin'. They know I'm ya man."

"Damn right."

"Still, he's been talking about you." Talbert stated, tossing his cards on the table then looking over to me.

Dammit. Why couldn't he just let this go? The others were paying far too much attention to the conversation to my liking. "He knows I'm with Bull."

Talbert shrugged.

"What?" I snapped.

"Might not be enough."

"Tab, what are you saying? He knows I'm not leaving Bull for him." I tried to stay calm. I knew the guys were just looking out for me. They did not trust anyone who wasn't Easy. Randleman's hand slowly rubbed up and down my arm, trying to soothe me. I took a deep breath and leaned my head against his side.

"Maybe. He might keep trying for you though."

"Is that what you would do?"

"If I saw a girl I really wanted...maybe." Tab winked at me, earning a few chuckles from the group. Everyone knew Talbert was a flirt, but a respectful one. If any women were not interested, he always backed off. Though most women never said 'no' to him.

I groaned. "Save me from the stupidity of the male species." I mumbled to myself.

"He ask ya to be his girl?" Bull asked, a smirk on his face.

"Yeah...sort of."

"No proposals?"

I rolled my eyes. He just would not let me forget when a Private from Able Company dropped down on one knee and proposed two weeks ago. Bull had laughed when I told him the story, saying if they really knew me, they would know to bring chocolate. That was my biggest weakness.

"Not this time. He does like to compare the two of you though." I admitted, guilt tainting my voice.

"I ain't worried.” He winked at me. “We know ya just like me for my body."

I patted his chest. "Don't you forget it."

Luz threw down a winning hand, causing the others to groan and the attention to focus back on the game.

I absent-mindedly watched the next game unfold, my mind though on Arthur. Sure, more than once he had made comments about me; and he had made even more comments about how he did not think Randleman was good enough for me. I thought it was harmless or just annoying. Now I was beginning to wonder if I should take it more seriously, if I needed to stop talking to him. If he really was gunning for me, I needed to set him straight once and for all. Right?

There was about a snowball’s chance in hell I would be leaving Randleman. Ever since Toccoa, we had somehow just clicked. At first it had started off as a close friendship, looking out for one another amidst the tortures heaped upon us by Sobel. When some of the other companies would cat-call or yell things at me, he always stood between us, glaring at the men until they backed down. Though I never asked him to do that. More than once I know he took matters into his own hands, or at least orchestrated it so some of the other Easy paratroopers could have their turn swinging punches to defend me...even if none of them ever admitted it later. It was not until one night that I found him at the aid station, getting his knuckles looked at by Doc Roe that he subtly admitted to seeing me as more than a friend. So logically, I kissed him right then and there. If his response said anything, he did not mind too much. After that, things just fell into place for us.

"Hey."

I turned my face up to meet Randleman's eyes, still tucked into his side. My favorite place to be.

"Ya alright?"

"Yeah, just thinking." I slipped my hand into his and squeezed three times, letting him know I was ok.

"Ya want me to talk to him?"

I smiled thinking of my boyfriend confronting Arthur. "No, it's ok. I'm sure this will blow over."

"If you say so, little lady." He pressed a chaste kiss to my temple. It was sweet how whenever he had the chance, he always took it to affectionately touch me. A sweet kiss on the forehead here, an arm tucking me into his side there, even a gentle squeeze of my hand. A silent reassurance of his affection for me. He was not a man of romantic monologues or one-liners. Instead he always reminded me through the simple gestures. I still teased him about it occasionally and he would reply that it was damn near impossible to keep his hands to himself with how beautiful I was and how much he adored me. That always won a kiss from me, even as I blushed crimson.

"You tell us if he tries anything." Martin stated, drawing me back from my thoughts, wary scowl on his face.

I nodded.

"I'm serious."

"You always are." I quipped back, earning a chuckle from Randleman.

Martin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why I put up with you two, I don't know."

"You love us." I teased, fluttering my eyelashes at him. He narrowed his eyes at me but I could see the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Back in North Carolina he had admitted one night I reminded him of his baby sister. When I laughed and told him she was lucky to have a brother like him, that seemed to seal our friendship. Since then he had easily stepped into the role of a big brother.

"C'mon, let's get some food." Bull guided me around the table, arm around my shoulders and mine around his waist. Martin followed us, walking on my other side, grumbling about how food here was shit and he missed his wife’s cooking.

*****

I stared across the field at the sunset. The warm colors transitioned into the cool tones of night right before my eyes. Colors so perfect they would make even the most talented artists zealous to try and capture their beauty. I absent-mindedly wondered how much longer I would be able to appreciate the sunsets. Or would war take that away from me.

It is only at the call of my name did I retract my gaze from the beauty in the sky. I knew who it was by his voice. And also from the fact that all of Easy knew to leave me alone while I was watching the sunsets. I loved my boys dearly but sometimes a girl just needed to get away. I saw Arthur with his hands in his pockets standing a few paces away from me, the tips of his shaggy hair almost covering his eyes.

"Can I join you?"

I shrugged, turning back to watch the painter's sky. It seemed fate had a hand in events today. A conversation needed to happen between the two of us and here he was. Dammit. Silently, he sat next to me, our shoulders almost brushing. Several moments went by like that, both of us just staring at the first of the stars to emerge.

Sighing, I turned to face him, not looking forward to this conversation. "Arthur, I think-"

His chapped lips interrupted me, slammed against my lips with an almost desperation to them. His hands cupped my face, pulling it closer to his. The sharp burn on alcohol was on his breath. I vaguely wondered if he needed liquid courage before doing this.

I sat there stunned for a second. I had thought he was all talk. I never would have expected...this.

In the next second, I tried to pull back, putting my hands on his chest for leverage. This had to be a drunken mistake. I was sure he would apologize after. Instead of releasing me, his grip on me tightened marginally and his tongue forced its way into my mouth.

This time, I roughly shoved him away with both hands on his chest, making him rock back and almost fall over. Before he could recover, I reared back my fist and slammed it into his eye. Pain exploded from my hand but I did not care. Anger and revulsion fueled me. How dare he?!

I rolled back and onto my feet putting necessary space between us otherwise I would be tempted to hit him again. He knew I only saw him as a friend. He knew I had no plans to leave Randleman. Yet he still kissed me without my consent...forced himself on me!

Staring wide-eyed, anger and betrayal warring within me, I watched him right himself and placed a hand over the eye I had hit.

"You're too good for him." In anyone else it might have sounded like begging, but from him, someone I had thought was my friend, he made it sound like he was stating a fact. "You deserve better. Please, give us a chance. I could-"

I turned on my heel and fled before he could finish. If I heard another word from him, I would not be held responsible for my actions. Right now though, I needed Randleman. I needed comfort and someone to soothe the ache in my heart. I needed the taste of someone I did not want off my lips. The feeling of his hands erased from my memory. Of his tongue awkwardly plundering my mouth and leaving a lingering hint of beer.

The barn door slammed open as I shoved it, not even caring about how loud it was. Most of the men should still be awake. The barn they were billeted in was nice enough. There was a cot for each person and plenty of blankets. My feet moved on autopilot, eating up the ground beneath me. I knew he would be on his cot, waiting for me to return like every night to say goodnight before I headed to the house I was billeted in.

"Hey! What's got-"

Whatever Luz saw on my face immediately shut him up. A heavy silence filled the barn as I stormed over to where Bull reclined, cigar in his mouth. He slowly sat up, pulling the cigar from between his lips. Before he could say anything I pressed my lips to his in a bruising, passionate kiss. Something we NEVER did in front of others. I did not care though. I needed the taste of Arthur off my lips. I needed to trade the taste of alcohol for a cigar.

Soon as I released him, I felt loathing towards myself. Bile stung my throat. I just forced a kiss on him. Not to show my affection but in demand to mask the taste of another. What was wrong with me? This was the man I loved. How could I have done this to him? It was selfish. Disgust flooded me, aimed at myself and now all I wanted to do was hide and cry.

Panicking and without a word, I turned to step away but before I could move further, a firm grip wrapped around my wrist, holding me in place.

"Talk to me." He softly said in that calm drawl of his. I could not help but instantly feel some of the tension loosen inside of me.

Tears blurred my vision, disgust at Arthur's actions and my own. I could only stare at the ground, shaking my head. My chest was tight, throat thick with suppressed sobs.

"Little lady, what happened?" He asked quietly, dipping his head to try and catch my eye.

Martin, who had been sitting on the next cot over, spoke up. "Why are your knuckles bruised?" A second later, his voice turned hard and demanding. "Who hurt you?"

The hand holding me, tugged me back, pulling me into his lap. Comforting warmth enveloped me as Randleman wrapped his arms around me. I laid my head on his broad chest, his heartbeat a soothing sound under my ear. I forced the treacherous tears away. This was not something I would let control my emotions. Arthur was not worth it. All this did was show his true colors. A gentle kiss on the top of my head reminded me who mattered most to me. Who promised to always have my back and never doubt me. Like I promised to never doubt him and always be there for him. He was my best friend, my lover...maybe even one day my future.

"He kissed me." I finally muttered, my face still buried in his chest.

"Mmm?"

I leaned back slightly to meet my boyfriend’s concerned gaze. "Arthur….he kissed me and said….well, it doesn't matter now."

"So ya clocked him?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Good."

"I never thought… I didn't think he would force me and…"

"Shhh, s'alright." He rubbed my back, holding me close. "I'll take care of it."

I did not even question his statement, caught up in my own emotions and soaking in his comforting presence. I could not tell if I was overreacting. I felt justified to be upset and angry at Arthur. At the moment, I did not want to think about it anymore. I wanted to forget Arthur and what just happened. I just wanted Randleman, his soft touches and calming aura.

Above my head Randleman and Martin's gazes meet with a darkness simmering underneath. Martin nodded and got up, stalking out of the barn after telling the others to leave me alone.

*****

"Heard ya kissed my girl." Randleman stated, watching the black-haired Private who had made you almost cry. An unforgivable sin in his eyes. A little flirting never bothered him, he usually found it amusing to watch their faces when they realized he was your man. He could practically see the wheels turning, questioning how someone like him could have caught himself such a beautiful, smart, talented woman like you. Often he questioned it himself but thanked his lucky stars daily for blessing him with you.

But when someone actively hurt you. When they made you cry. There would be hell to pay...and he had no qualms about doling out justified retribution.

Arthur looked over his shoulder before turning back to counting boxes next to a supply truck. "Yeah? Who told you that?"

"She did and some of the stuff you've been saying to her." The Arkansas man chuckled. "Got a nice shiner there too."

"So? It's true.' Arthur whipped around, eyes blazing. Though, one eye was distinctly bloodshot with a fantastic array of colors around it. "You're nothing but a redneck that can't-"

"You're gonna need to shut the fuck up before you say another word." Martin interrupted, moving to stand next to Bull in silent support.

"Who the hell are you? Some bodyguard? Redneck here can't fight his own battles?"

Martin glared, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Private sneered. "Your grim reaper look don't scare me."

"That's where you're wrong." Martin stated, rolling his shoulders, signature glare still in place. "I'm not the grim reaper. He's on holiday. I'm his replacement….and I don't need a sickle to beat your ass."

"I don't need to hear this shit." Arthur tried to move around the side of the truck only to come face to face with a grinning Guarnere and smug Toye.

"Hi ya, cowboy."

"Who the fuck are you two?" Arthur demanded, eyes hard and fists clenched.

Toye shrugged, lighting a cigarette. "Concerned citizens."

Arthur tried to move around them but Guarnere shoved him back.

"Shut the fuck up, cowboy, and listen to the man before I kick your teeth in."

"You can kick your leg that high?" Toye asked, looked over to his friend casually.

"You know what- shut up, Joe."

"I'd rather see Martin go grim reaper on his ass." Toye shrugged.

Martin grinned wickedly. "Would be my pleasure."

Randleman spoke up, drawing Arthur's attention back to him. "Ya stay away from my woman. I hear ya talkin' to her again, I can promise ya, they won't find ya body."

"Are you threatening me?" Arthur drew himself up to his full height, which to most guys might have been a challenge, but he was still shorter than the taller than average Randleman.

With the way this jack-ass was acting, Randleman almost wished he would try and take a swing. Give him a reason to knock his arrogant ass on the ground.

"No, son. That's a promise." Randleman exhaled, smoke drifting lazily out of his mouth from his trusty cigar. "We'll be lettin' ya get back to work now."

"Run along, boy." Martin leveled a hard look at Arthur that would have even the devil himself reconsidering his options.

Leveling his own less-than-impressive glare, Arthur looked at the four guys that surrounded him before turning on his heel and walking away.

"I gotta ask." Toye started as they watched the Private leave. He turned to look at his friend. "Can you really get your leg up-"

"Shut up, Toye, before I kick your teeth in."

"I mean maybe Perco or Luz you could but-"

Randleman chuckled as Guarnere tried to put Toye in a headlock. He could only hope this Arthur was smart enough to heed his warning.

*****

I sat in the mess hall, well, the building that had been converted into a mess hall for the Airbourne. Randleman sat on my right, hand holding mine underneath the table. Smoky on my left was arguing across the table with Skinny about something dumb. Honestly, I had already zoned their conversation out. Further down the table, Buck was telling a story from his Rose Bowl days that had those listening in absolute stitches.

A smile teased my lips as I glanced around the table. Sometimes it would randomly hit me how lucky I was to be in Easy Company. They were idiots, but my idiots. Except for Bull. He would always be my man.

I looked up to peek at the other table of Easy boys but froze when I noticed Arthur walking down the aisle, trying to find a seat. As if feeling my gaze, he looked my way. Instead of flashing me his signature smile or a quick wink and continuing on….he glared. Anger flared in me, ready to explode once again. Our paths had not crossed since the day he kissed me, which I was infinitely grateful for. I was unsure how I would handle it if he tried to approach me. Now seeing him, all I could think of was hitting him again. I could tell the black eye I had given him was not as bright, the colors dulling into yellows instead of black and blue. There was a sense of pride that he somehow had to explain his black eye to any who asked.

Then I realized his glare was not aimed at me but to my right, at Randleman beside me. Confused, I glanced up expecting to see Bull listening to Buck with the corner of his lips turned up slightly in amusement. Instead he was staring back at Arthur with a stoic expression and stern eyes. My gaze darted between the two, wondering what was going on. As far as I knew, they had never spoken; though the tension radiating between the two practically screamed confrontation. After a long moment, Arthur gave a curt nod and walked on by.

"What just happened?" I murmured, eyeing my boyfriend.

"Nothin'."

"Bull…"

He glanced down at me, slinging his arm around my shoulders and tucking me into his side. "Told ya I'd take care of it."

I stared expectantly, waiting for the explanation.

"We just came to an understandin'." He finally said.

"Did you threaten him?"

His reply was a brief wink.

I laughed, snuggling closer into his side.

"I told ya, little lady. I'm ya man and I don't take too kindly to others tryin' to take my position."

"Mmm...I think you're a keeper." After a moment, I smirked. "So I probably shouldn't tell you about the Sergeant in Dog Company who tried to give me flowers yesterday."

"Flowers, huh?" He grinned down at me, eyes alight with mischief. "Least he's got class. What ya do?"

"I pretended to be allergic and kept sneezing whenever he tried to talk to me after."

He laughed, planting a kiss to the top of my head. "Do I need to start gettin' ya things too?"

"No," I reached up to kiss his jawline, making him blush. "I just want you...and maybe some chocolate."

"I think I can manage that, little lady."

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #bull randleman #bull randleman x reader #denver bull randleman #johnny martin #george luz #floyd talbert #bill guarnere #joe toye #reader insert #based on tumblr post #mzwrites

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years ago

Text

Band of Brothers-

Cute/charming things they say when they walk into a room and see you/you walk into a room and they see you:

Babe:

“oh SHIIIIIT! There’s my BABY! Do you see her, fellas? GodDAMN, I’m a lucky sonofabitch!”

(you blush so hard and are just like Babe, we’re at work stahp it but he dgaf).

It’s embarrassing and always makes Martin glare so imploringly at you that you’ll go over to Babe just to make him be quiet. Because, you know, YOU’RE AT WORK.

This bitch is shameless when it comes to loving on you, having once come to stand next to you when Sink was giving an important announcement and straight-up PINCHED. YOUR. ASS.

how you didn’t yelp is a miracle, and how no one else seemed to notice was equally astounding

(oh, the boys noticed. They kinda shipped it tho, so it was more a matter of hiding their joy).

Needless to say, it only happened the once, something you made Babe swear after you pulled him aside and punched him in the arm.

Don’t worry, you kissed it better.

Roe:

bb boy doesn’t say anything at first,

the smile he saves just for you is playing at his lips as you walk up to meet him, tho.

The moment you’re close enough that he can smell the sweet mint of your gum, he’ll whisper something sweet like “hey you” or “mon amor”, or maybe just your name

(bc let’s be honest, his accent is 10 out of 10 and he could read me the dictionary and I’d still rock an ugly giggle/snort combo).

If it’s a more serious situation, like if you’re hurt oh lordy

he will literally shout your name until either you shout back or someone tells him where you are.

I could see him being a face holder, in the sense that he does it to reassure himself that you’re okay and make sure he has your undivided attention.

Since getting injured in Carentan, you hadn’t been as close to the frontlines as you had been, so when you were needed you are REALLY NEEDED,

and even if he didn’t like it Gene knew you were the best at what you did.

Gene also feels better if he knows where you are.

Even when you eventually return to Easy, he will feel better knowing which Foxhole you’re in, and knowing he’s seen to it your first aid kit was fully stocked.

Liebgott:

THAT FUCKER’S SMIRKING AT YOU SO OPENLY that whoever he had been talking to instantly goes

*sigh* y/n’s just came in, didn’t she?

And he won’t even ANSWER because he’s already shoving past them to walk up and eye you with obvious satisfaction.

“Bout time you showed up,” he’d say casually, hands finding your hips giving them a quick squeeze.

“Sooner we get briefed, sooner we can get outta here.”

(You’re not fully sure what ‘getting outta here’ entails, but if the way he looked at you was any indication, you had a feeling it didn’t involve anything less than PG-13 sexy times.)

Bull:

“Hey, little lady.”

He’ll say it no matter how tall or short you are, how wide or how narrow.

He will always say it to you that when you first see each other in the morning

(sometimes, you wake up to Hey, little lady being kissed into the soft skin behind your ear.)

(Once while on a 48 hour pass, he’d woken you up that way in a REAL bed and the two of you had nearly gotten him sent up Curahee for being late coming back because you’d ended up spending more time in that bed than either of you anticipated Whoops)

(Even if he had been late, he definitely wouldnt have minded, tbh. He fully considered going AWOL if it mean neither of you had to leave the bed)

but throughout the day he’s more concerned about getting his hands on some part of you whenever the two of you had been apart-

even if it was for like five minutes.

Nothing over the top- holding his arm up and out so you can step into his side, a press of his lips to your temple.

Idk guys i just feel like he’d just love you so much that everyone would be able to see, which they do and they all think it’s fucking cute

Buck:

He doesn’t always call out when he sees you, mostly because your eyes always seem to find his.

The two of you could be across a field from one another with a thousand angry Germans between you, guns blazing, and the two of you would always spot each other like two honing beacons.

If its downtime and you guys don’t have to be on your guard he’ll ABSOLUTELY wolf whistle in at you,

You’ll see a stupid grin lighting up his face as he nods in your direction.

“Take a look, boys. I think we’ve got ourselves a…”

and he always waits until you’re close enough that he can wrap a quick arm around your waist and pat your hip.

“Certified babe-asaurus!”

(in a foxhole somewhere, a wild Babe’s head pokes up in confusion).

You groan and boo him, and whoever he was with inevitably ends up booing him too.

But he doesn’t care because seeing you smile makes him so happy you guys.

Lipton:

If you’re in public, he will quietly step up beside you and place his hand gently between your shoulder blades.

He’s not super into PDA, which you didn’t mind because what he didn’t show in physical touch he more than made up for in open admiration.

He is in awe of you

sometimes he worries you forget how highly he thinks of you, how highly everybody thinks of you

(you don’t forget, but he’s just one of those people who will get intrusive thoughts like that and sometimes has a hard time shaking them so plz just let him say it ok?)

so he always whispers some praise with his greeting

(Hey, beautiful...Doin’ okay, love?...What’re you thinking, brilliant girl?).

It’d probably seem like overkill if anyone else did it but Carwood is just so goddamn sincere that you can’t help but duck a quick kiss to his shoulder.

HOWEVER!

If you two kids are alone….

OH BOI.

He is handsy, coming up and caging you with his arms,

probably pulling you close quickly so you lose your balance and he can hold you a lil bit.

(He likes to sweep you off your feet im so sorry)

That’s when his praises are hushed and sighed between long slow kisses.

Nixon:

Like Liebgott, he’s a snarky motherfucker who will get the most self-satisfied grin on his face the moment he sees you, instantly turning on the famous Lewis Nixon charm ( something he’d long since decided belonged to you and you alone.)

“Uh oh,” he’d say, looking you up and down before raising an eyebrow.

(bc your hot but also he doesn’t want to get all flirty if you’re hurt or sick or something’s up bc ur not just something to flirt with- YOU ARE A BADASS WITH BADASS RESPONSIBILITIES AND THAT WAS SOMETHING HE very often and sometimes FOUND SO HOT THAT IT MADE HIM THINK HE MAY HAVE AN AUTHORITY FETISH this has been a PSA)

“Here comes trouble.”

you roll your eyes, the behavior you once found cocky and arrogant having becoming endearing somewhere between Toccoa and England.

He has absolutely no qualms about PDA (verbal or physical), so it’s up to you to reign him in

(especially if he’s a lil tipsy, poor Luz didn’t need to hear Lewis’s sloppy and shameless plea for you to let him eat you out on top of piano he’d found in the attic of the billet he’d been assigned. You weren’t able to look at George for a week without wanting to die of embarrassment and Lewis Nixon didn’t get any for two weeks. He was sure to never make such a mistake ever again)

And Dick had probably grown blind to how Lewis liked to pull you his lap and run his hands up and down your thighs while you played with his hair.

Also, like Lipton, he probably saves the more explicit acts of PDA for when the company has scheduled downtime

(but only bc you told him he needed to keep it in his pants any other time he tried to get cute with you)

but you can bet your ass his hand will always try to tap it (your ass, that is.)at least once

a day when he isn’t supposed to.

That’s when you get to punish him whoopsies

Dick:

since the day you were introduced to Dick in Georgia, the boy always made sure to stand when you entered a room and will call you “ma’am”,

(you know, LIKE HE DOES ONLY BECAUSE HE HAS TO FOR SOBEL BC RANKS. I feel like he has a “we salute the woman, not the rank” speech queued up for anyone who tried to give him shit for it BUT THAT’s JUST ME)

but he has a knowing look in his eye that makes the term ‘ma’am’ feel anything but impersonal.

It confused the shit out of replacements, who would automatically stand because their superior officer (that would be Big Dick Winters) did- only to see you standing there in your fatigues with a coffee in each hand with a look of mutual confusion on your face.

(bc while they like you, but they’re confused still bc while you’re a boss ass bitch, you didn’t outrank him...or at least they theink you dont?)

Babe had been the one to ask you about the longing looks and lingering glances, and when you didn’t know how to answer him you’d gone to Nixon,

He’d burst into tearful laughter and was unable to get it together enough to explain anything.

Dick had been the one to bring it up the next time they were alone, weirdly enough, as she proofread his report for errors that didn’t exist.

Because you warrant it, he’d said when pressed for a reason why he greeted her like a ranking officer, looking down at his boots as they both blushed like teenagers at a school dance.

After that, he still stood wherever you walked in

but now he made a point to brush his fingers against yours at some point during the time you were together.

He’s the definition of a slow burn friends-to-lovers story, and boi can get spicy LEMME TELL YOU.

(this is my first writing thing ever plz let a sister know if there are any glaring typos. Also i’m roughly 97 years late to fandom but I brought y’all some starbucks so plz let me in thank you)

#band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #babe heffron x reader #eugene roe x reader #joe liebgott x reader #bull randleman x reader #carwood lipton x reader #lewis nixon x reader #dick winters x reader #hbo war x reader #it's vv bad but I'll just add it to the pile of already burning garbage pile that is my bibliography #buck compton x reader

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george-mackay-macfine · 5 years ago

Text

HoneyBird

** SMUT 18 OVER ONLY**

_______________________________________________________________________

SYNOPSIS:

Y/N is set up on a blind date by her best friend. When the date goes horribly wrong and she’s rescued by a gorgeous Brit she can’t get him off her mind

_______________________________________________________________________

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.”

- Maya Angelou

“How long has it been since you’ve had fun?” I looked up from the small cafe menu meeting the inquisitive gaze of my best-friend Sierra Parker. Her dark eyebrows furrowed over her bright blue eyes, raven black hair falling from behind her ear as she leaned across the small table. “And by fun I mean...” She looked down towards my lap as her thin lips upturned in a smirk.

“Sierra Parker, what would your mother say.” I gasped, grabbing the nearby napkin, laying it across my lap as if to add another layer of protection from her wandering eyes.

“She’d say Y/F/N Y/L/N when was the last time you got a good fuck.” My mouth dropped open as my best friend smirked triumphantly as the man sitting at the table across from us raised his eyebrow, ears pricking as he listened to our conversation. I leant forward on the table leaning down so I could hiss at her.

“Firstly, keep your voice down.” I sat up a little, elbows pressed on the dark stained timber. “Have you always been so loud?”

“Since the day you met me.” She chuckled leaning back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. “But I’m serious, when was the last time you let a guy anywhere near your bedroom or got tied to another guys bed?”

“Who wants to be tied to someone else's bed?”

“Haven’t you watched Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s a whole new world out there.” She pushed her hair behind her ears. “So how long has it been? Three, four months?” She bit down on her bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth. Being friends with Sierra for as long as I had, gave me an insight into her ticks. When she felt guilty over something she nibbled on her bottom lip.

“What have you done?”

“Why do you think I’ve done something?” I watched her, eyebrow-raising in question. As the seconds ticked by Sierra began to look more guilty. Her lips turned into an awkward smile, something that happened only when she’d done something she knew she shouldn’t. “Alright fine.” Sierra held her hands up in a false surrender. “There’s a guy at Hudson’s work, Martin...”

“No.”

“And he’s seen your picture on Hudson’s Instagram.”

“No. I refuse to be the girl who her friends feel ’needs’ to be set up. I don’t even want a relationship.”

“And he asked Hudson if he could set something up, and Hudson said yes.” Sierra talked over me.

“Well, your fiancé has a lot of explaining to do with Martin then.” I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at my best friend anger rushing through my veins.

“Look, Hudson said we’d be going out for drinks tonight, and invited Martin to join us.” Sierra beamed. “Like a double date kind of thing.”

“Sierra,”

“Look, Y/N you don’t have to fuck him. You don’t even need to kiss him but what you do need is a bit of F-U-N...” Sierra Parker had always been crass when it came to matters of sex and bed-related matters. “Please do it for me. Hudson and I haven’t been out in a long time because of wedding planning, and this gives us the reason to have a fun night out fuelled by alcohol.” Sierra pleaded. I didn’t reply. “I’ll buy all your drinks.” She added a final hail mary prayer.

“Fine, but this is the last time you get to set me up.”

“This is the first time I’ve set you up.”

“Great, then it’ll be easy to break the habit.” I looked out the cafe window, the sun was begging to set over New York.

“When are we meeting them?” Sierra looked down at her watch.

“Half-an-hour.”

“This is why you told me to dress up.” Sierra chuckled slyly.

“Couldn’t risk you turning up in sweatpants.”

“There is nothing wrong with sweatpants.”

“There is when we’re trying to get someone to potentially remove the sweat pants from your body Y/N.”

“Must you be so crass, Sierra?” Sierra’s smile dropped, she leant forward on the table once more. Sincerity filled her eyes.

“Y/N, you’ve been my best friend since I was sixteen, I just want to see you smile, and be happy again.”

“I am happy Sierra.” I sat up straighter. “Thank you for caring enough to set up this date.” I tried to push out any thoughts of the forthcoming disaster. “Where is it all happening?” Sierra stood and grabbed her purse, pulling it over her shoulder.

“The Lucky, just around the corner. I’ll just go to the bathroom then we can leave?”

“Sure.” I nodded my head and watched her stand up and walk towards the cafe’s restrooms. As she left I caught a glance of myself in the reflection of the window. I probably looked like a lunatic as I studied myself, my hair was a dull brown, cut short to my shoulders, a far cry from the length it had been six months ago. Even though I couldn’t make them out I knew my eyes, also looked dull and lifeless as they stared back at me. I sat struggling to connect... to recognise the girl staring back at me even though her actions mirrored my own, her features a copy of my own. I knew it was me physically but mentally, she just looked lost.

“Ready?” I looked away from the window, Sierra had returned a fresh coat of red lipstick applied. “It’s Hudson’s favourite colour.” She shrugged. “And one of us needs to get laid tonight.” Her eyes turned dark as she teased me.

“Well, we better get you to Hudson then before it rubs off.” I fished ten dollars out of my pocket, dropping it on the table to pay for our finished coffees. I looked down at myself, suddenly insecure with my appearance. “Do I look alright?” I was suddenly aware that I’d be on a date in a matter of minutes, and even if I didn’t want to go I didn’t want to look horrible. “If I’d know it was a date...”

“You wouldn’t have come.” She countered, eyes running over me as I pulled at my denim skirt before tying a knot in my white t-shirt.

“You look cute. You’ve got this “I’m a badass, you don’t know what’s coming for you Martin’ look down.” She glanced over me once more, nodding her head. “Yeah. I really like it.” A smile pulled at my lips.

“Thanks.” I picked up my purse and motioned to the door. “Shall we?” Sierra held out her arm, giggling as I looped my own through.

“We shall.” As we walked Sierra filled me in on everything she knew about Martin. Hair colour; Black. Eye colour; Blue. Hometown; New Jersey. It seemed weird that neither Sierra or Hudson had ever mentioned Martin before tonight but up until three months ago I’d been adamant about not meeting any new people. So when Sierra saw her chance, I guess she jumped at it.

“Have you ever been here before?” I looked around, as we walked down the street. A sign for ‘The Lucky’ shining brightly ahead of us like a looming thunder cloud.

“Never.” Sierra shook her head. “But, Hudson knows a lot of guys who hang out here, and the bar across the road.” She pointed across the road. “See that place, InkBird.” I squinted my eyes nodding my head. “Next to that book store, ‘The Lair’.” My eyes locked on to the sign. “Behind that, there’s another bar, you have to go through InkBird to get there, so it’s kind of like a hidden bar. Hudson always complains that the guys only decide to go there once’s he’s on his way home.” We stopped in front of The Lucky, facing across the road looking right at InkBird.

“Well, maybe tonight he’ll finally get to see it.” I quipped before spinning on my heel. “C’mon, let’s go find Prince Charming.” I took a deep breath before pushing the door open. As soon as I stepped inside I couldn’t help but feel a bubble of excitement build in my stomach. I stopped taking a moment to look around. The walls were a whitewashed brick all over, neon lights hung randomly throughout. A line of booths ran along the far wall, to the left of them a long bar, off to the corner was a pool table. The crowd seemed to be a mix of college students and younger working professionals. Either way, everyone seemed to be looking for a way to wind down. “Can you seed Hudson anywhere?” I asked looking around for the six-foot tall man who was responsible for all of this.

“No. Maybe we should go sit down and wait for him.” Sierra grabbed onto my hand and pulled me over to the back wall, sliding into one of the booths. “He should be here by now.” She pulled out her phone to text him. I looked over the crowd. Eyes scouting for Hudson. “He said he’s at the bar.” I spun, looking towards the bar.

“There.” Sierra smiled pointing. I followed her finger, finding Hudson quickly.

“Who's he with?” I studied the man who stood across from Hudson, engaged in deep conversation. I turned to face Sierra. “Have you met him before?” I turned back, studying him again. He looked as though he was twenty-eight, standing with both his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black skinny jeans. I let my eyes run over his body, drinking in his features. Starting with the ink that covered his right arm where little space of bare skin remained untouched by the intricate tattoo’s wrapping around the exposed muscle. My eyes drifted up over his torso and to his face. He has a sharp jawline, standing out prominent, his cheeks tanned, and covered with days worth of stubble. His eyes were big and round, childlike almost, bushy eyebrows following the curve of his brow bone. His nose appeared to have been broken before as it loomed over a pair of smirking lips. His hair was a dark brown and styled into a presentable quiff. I was unable to stop myself from looking back at his eyes, where to my surprise he was already looking at me. Feeling my cheeks redden I looked down to the table trying to calm myself.

“His name’s George MacKay, Hudson’s know him for a while.” Sierra shrugged. Eyes moving away from me, and a smile tugging on her lips. “Hi, baby.” Hudson sat beside her, arm wrapping around her shoulders. He left a sweet kiss on her lips.

“Hey Y/N.” Hudson smiled. “You excited to meet Martin?” Hudson’s kind smile turned into a smirk.

“Ecstatic,” I mumbled eyes turning to slits as I glared him down. “Is he here yet?” I looked around, eyes finding George’s again as he threw his head back and laughed.

“Not yet.” I turned back, eyes meeting Sierra’s. “He’s going to be here soon though. He’s excited to meet you.” Hudson pulled Sierra into him.

“You two are going to get along so well, I just know it.” Sierra smiled at me.

I wish I could say the date went perfectly, and the minute I saw Martin I fell head over heels in love, and before I knew it we ended up in bed together and lived happily ever after, but as the night wore on, and the date dragged on there was one thing missing.

“I thought you said he couldn’t wait to meet me,” I whined drunkenly as I waved my empty glass around. I’d forgotten how easily I got drunk these days and by my second scotch, I was already into tipsy Y/N territory.

“He couldn’t.” Hudson chimed. “It’s not like Martin to stand up a girl.”

“Martin seems like a jerk.” I huffed slamming my glass on the table frowning. “Oh Hudson, I’m not excited to meet her. She looks great. Blah, Blah, BLAH.” I rolled my eyes.

“He didn’t seem like one at the office. I’m really sorry Y/N.” Hudson sighed. “I’ll go get us another drink.” He picked up our empties and walked off towards the bar. My head was fuzzy as I turned to my best friend.

“What’s wrong with me?” I whined.

“Nothings wrong with you. He’s just a shitty guy.”

“Then why was I stood up?” I lent across the table staring at her intently waiting for her to say something, anything that would make sense why this guy, who was so excited to meet me. Would bail, without any notice.

“Maybe because your ‘date’ couldn’t handle how stunningly beautiful you are, and he freaked out at the prospect of being in your company.” A thick English accented voice made my eyes widened in surprise. “But that could just be my opinion.” I turned in my seat, eyes meeting those of George MacKay. Hudson’s heavily tattooed friend.

“I see you’re good at flattery.” I laughed trying to hide the fact I was unnaturally attracted to him.

“It’s not the only thing I’m good at.” He smirked as he sat beside me, extending a glass of scotch towards me. He winked motioning for me to take it. I took it and raised an eyebrow daring him wordlessly to go on. “I’m also really good at rescuing damsels in distress.” I looked over at Hudson and Sierra who were intently watching the exchange sipping on their drinks mindlessly.

“I don’t see any damsels. Maybe your superpower led you to the wrong table.”

“Absolutely not. My good friend Hudson here.” He took a cheeky side glance at Hudson, and I couldn’t help but swoon as his blue eyes turned back to me, the corner of his lip turning up in another smile. “Said there was an insanely beautiful girl who’d been stood up by some dickhead, and she needed rescuing before he and his fiancé disappeared to the toilets for a quickie.” My mouth dropped open. George held his hands up in defence. “His words, not mine.” He chuckled hand rubbing across his stubble covered chin.

I am unnaturally attracted to you.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.” I held out my hand.

“I know,” He smirked. “I’m George MacKay.” He grasped my hand, holding it gently as we shook hands, he kept looking at me, not breaking the eye contact we were holding. “You can message Martin, tell him Y/N didn’t lose any sleep over him.”

“Yeah, make sure you add in about the tattooed rescuer,” Sierra smirked. “You take care of her George.” She wagged a slim finger at him as Hudson stood.

“Wait, where are you going?” I asked voice rising in concern.

“Bathroom.” Hudson winked at George before grabbing Sierra's hand and dragging her off. “We’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“I think they mean quickie,” George whispered in my ear. His breath tickling my skin. A hot blush rose on my skin in its wake.

“I’m not going to sleep with you.” I turned to face him, mentally sizing up the damage his charm could have on my life. “So this whole seduction, British accent. Dreamy bedroom eyes thing isn’t going to work.”

“You think I have bedroom eyes?” His charm will destroy me.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He turned to look at the bar. His tattooed arm wrapping around the top of the booth seat fingertips brushing over my shoulder. “I was wondering why the guy at the bar was giving me the come on, now I know.” He turned back smiling cheekily. “It was because of my bedroom eyes.” I couldn’t help myself, I burst out laughing. This guy was unbelievable. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Only if it’s a good one.” George leaned in, his free arm brushing my hair behind my ear, teasingly slow. His scent overtook my senses. He smelt delicious and I had a carnal desire to push him up against the closest wall and see if he tasted as good as he smelt.

“If you think, that I was giving you bedroom eyes before.” He chuckled lowly. “Then you won’t believe what it’s like when I actually give you bedroom eyes.”

“You think you’re so smooth don’t you?” If I were to be honest with him, I would ask him to show me his bedroom eyes, But I wasn’t honest.

“I don’t actually.” He pulled away from me, turning. Our noses touched ever so slightly. “But I’m drunk, and you’re beautiful.” His eyes searched over my face. “And tomorrow morning, I’m going to be sober, but you.” He shook his head. “You. You’re still going to be beautiful.” Am I imagining this?

“Wow.” I couldn’t help but smile. A real one. It felt like the first time I’d smiled properly in years. “You are a smooth, smooth man.” George picked up his glass. Laughing as he sipped from it.

“It wasn’t a line, but I’m glad it got you to smile.” I took a deep breath, exhaling. Clearing my mind and body of George MacKay. When I felt like I could open my eyes again. George was still watching me, bottom lip pulled deliciously between his teeth. God, even when he bites his lip he looked like Adonis.

“How do you know my best friend’s fiancé, George?” I turned, bringing my knee up on the George, putting some space between the two of us.

“I’m his tattoo artist.” He picked up his drink again. “Tattoo’d him about five times now, after the second time we went to the pub…”

“Pub?”

“A bar.” He chuckled and leaned in closer. “Sorry, I’ll try to Americanise myself from now on.”

“Thank you.” A giggle escaped. “So you gave Hudson some tattoo’s, and then you guys went to the pub, and what an epic bromance started?”

“Pretty much, but let me tell you something.” His voice dropped and became even sexier, which I didn’t even know was possible. “It won’t be as epic as our romance would be.”

“Flattering, but I’m not interested.”

“HoneyBird, you looked me in the eyes a little too long, to not be interested in me.” Holy crap, who was this guy. I lent forward.

“Who are you?” George replicated my actions. Meeting me in the middle.

“Whoever you want me to be.”

“You’re sure of yourself.”

“Confident that you’re attracted to me.” George and my heads were close together. He was right, he should be confident that I was attracted to him. I was.

“You’re right. I might be drunk, but you’re still right.” I picked up the remainder of my drink and downed it.

“And in the morning, you’ll be sober but I’ll still be right,” George smirked.

“George is that you?” We pulled away from each other, at the end of our table stood a girl. Her skin was a very pale colour, even paler than my own. Her cheeks dotted with small freckles which had almost been completely covered by makeup. Her lips big and pouted.

“Rebecca.” George groaned. “Didn’t know you still came here.” He turned in his seat, arm wrapping back around my shoulders.

“Whose she?” Her eyes turned on me. Dark, and furious.

“Me? I’m his fiance.” I found myself speaking in a horrible British accent, so bad George was struggling to contain his laughter.

“He didn’t tell me he had a fiance.” Rebecca quipped, as if her words meant to harm me. Instead, I turned to look at George, then back to the Rebecca.

“Really, cause he told me you were his sister.” I turned back to George. “Baby. I didn’t know that was your kink.” I looked out of the corner of my eyes. Rebecca was watching us intently. “Four years together, and I’m only seeing the kinky side of you now.” I grabbed onto George’s hair and pulled him towards me. “What else do you like?”

“Come with me, and I’ll show you just how kinky I can be.” George chuckled, leaning into me his teeth nipping my jawline.

Fuck

“Aren’t you going to break up with him? He slept with me.” Rebecca scoffed, voice raising.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. He’s also slept with me.”

“You’re a pig, George.” Rebecca picked up one of the half-empty glasses and threw it over George, splattering me in the process. “I hope you two are happy together.” She screamed before stomping away. George and I watched her for a minute as she pushed her way through the crowd and out the door. I was still watching the door when George turned to me.

“Baby, Huh?” I shrugged my shoulders as a smile spread across George’s face. A proper smile, teeth exposed, and one that made dimples appear. God, he really was beautiful.

“I think I enjoyed it too much.” He whispered leaning towards me again. His voice was so low I could barely hear it over the music in the bar.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“HoneyBird, It’s entirely too late for that.” I couldn’t help but feel a hot flush rise on my cheeks when George called me HoneyBird. Flirting with George was fun but I was out of practice. “What’s wrong?”

“I was just thinking, should I go borrow Sierra’s ring, or was she the only one in this bar you’ve slept with?” I turned back, once my cheek felt cooler.

“If it means getting to call you mine for even tonight, I can find someone else I’m sure.” George went to stand. I grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him back down with me.

“That’s not necessarily, you don’t need to sleep with random women.”

“You mean I can have you without them?” His blue eyes shone, alive with mischief.

“You are something else.” I shook my head, unable to believe I’d held his interest for this long. “But I’m still not sleeping with you tonight.”

“But tomorrow nights still available.” He questioned, flirting was second nature for this man. “I like you Y/N.” He whispered just loud enough for me to hear.

“You’re drunk.”

“I may be drunk, but tomorrow morning when I’m sober. I’m still going to like you.”

“Is that your vice?”

“And by vice you mean....” He trailed off.

“Your immoral, wicked personal behaviours.” I turned on the bench again. Knee brushing his.

“It’s immoral to be interested in you?”

“Strange, but not immoral.”

“Well then, what if I don’t have any?”

“We all have a vice, sometimes more than one. Whether we know it or not.”

“If I tell you mine, you need to tell me yours.”

“Deal.” I stuck my hand out to shake. George grabbed my hand and brought it up to the table. Using both his to play with my fingers. Dancing his fingertips across my knuckles softly.

“I’m passionate, more often than not to an extreme.” His forefinger ran down my wrist absent mindlessly as he spoke. “About life, tattoos, people. Love.”

“People?” He nodded his head. Lip slipping between his teeth as he watched his fingers trace patterns on my skin.

“If I meet someone I like, I become passionate about them.” He turned my hand and continued to trace patterns on my palm. “Not in a romantic way. I like to surround myself with good people, who give off good energy. Hudson for example. We became mates, and I became really invested in our friendship. He’s a really good guy Mia, and he’s the type of person I want to be surrounded by.”

“That doesn’t sound like a vice.”

“It can be when it makes you vulnerable. The amount of people I’ve had use our friendship for free tattoos.” He shook his head disgust changing his calm features.

“Free tattoo’s?”

“Yeah, they expected me to give them free tattoos because that’s what I do, and we were ‘friends’ apparently.” I grabbed his hand and started tracing back on his palm. Replicating patterns he’d drawn on mine.

“But you would work hard on those designs. It’s not right for anyone to expect them for free.” Across the palm, down around the wrist, tracing the veins that protruded. “And not to mention how much time it’d take to actually tattoo them.” Up towards the black tree on his forearm.

“So what’s yours.” I traced along one of the thicker branches, my right hand ended up holding onto his palm, as my left traced. “It’s only fair.”

“You’re right, it is only fair.” I looked up. Stopping my tracing. Fingers laying still against his skin. “One of my vices is time. I’m worried about how much time we have left on this planet. How long I have left with my family, my friends.”

“Time is a fickle bitch,” George muttered under his breath. “What’s your other ones?”

“I don’t know yet, I’m still working them out.” I looked up through my lashes, meeting his eyes.

“Which would you choose, True love with a guarantee of a broken heart, or to never love at all.”

“True love.” George leaned his head in closer as I resumed my tracing our eye’s not losing contact. “’ Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’”

“Alfred Lord Tennyson.” George smiled. I nodded my head. Inching in the smallest amount.

“What would you have picked?”

“Love.” His breath fanned across my lips as his head dipped in. “Love is to great of an adventure to miss out on.”

“Sorry we took so long.” Sierra’s voice broke us from our bubble. I looked up mouth dropping open when I took in her appearance. Her hair was wild, and no longer the image of perfection. Lipstick was staining the outside of her lips where she’d failed to cover it up. Overall she looked the definition of a wanton woman. “We stopped at the bar after.” She smirked sitting down two drinks in front of George and I.

“Here baby.” Hudson handed Sierra her own drink as she sat beside him. “What did you two talk about while we were…”

“Screwing?” George optioned. A chuckle on his lips as he looked over the pair. He shuffled again, arm stretching out behind me. Fingertips brushing my shoulder. “Did you guys want to go to the TK bar?” Why didn’t he tell them about our conversations?

“The ‘hidden’ one?” Sierra raised a brow. George nodded his head.

“Hell yes.” Hudson stood up. “C’mon drink those drinks. We have a new bar to explore.”

“He’s been wanting to see it ever since you told him about it.” Sierra rolled her eyes at her fiance.

“Then we should go.” I smiled at Hudson. “We don’t want to keep him waiting longer.” I grabbed my cup and tipped my head back, the scotch burning as it slid down into my stomach. I spluttered as I slammed the glass on the tabletop. George’s hand rubbed soothing circles on my lower back as I tried to regulate my breathing. Little did he know, his hand touching me, didn’t help.

“Easy tiger.” George laughed before mirroring my actions without the spluttering and gasping for air. “Ready?” Sierra and Hudson nodded standing, the began to walk towards the front door. I waited for George to move out of the booth. He didn’t. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t tell Sierra what we were talking about. That conversation, I want it to just be ours.” His head dropped, and if it wasn’t for the alcohol messing with my head, I could have sworn I saw a tinge of red on his cheeks.

“Ok.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, that’s fine.”

“Let’s go.” George stood up and held his hand out, waiting for me to take it. When I did he pulled me up. Leading us to the door, I put my hand on his lower back, holding onto his t-shirt so I could move easier through the crowd. “Y/N, I want you to know something.” He called over his shoulder as we moved through the crowd and out the door.

“What is it?”

“Just because I’m holding your hand doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you tonight.” I felt his body shake as he laughed. We came to a stop out the front of the doors. He turned to me. Smirking. Fine, if he wants to play, then it’s about time I play.

“But tomorrow’s still an option?” I ran a hand up and down his chest, fingers curling underneath, my knuckles brushed the skin underneath.

“Careful HoneyBird or I’ll have to take you up on that offer.”

“Guys, are you coming.” We turned, Hudson stood across the road, right outside InkBird. I grabbed Georges wrist and pulled him along with me.

“Do you think the person who owns this place gets annoyed about the hidden bar?” I looked up at the sign and we approached it.

“I don’t think they’d care, probably get a slice of the profit.”

“Well, George where do we go?” Sierra question, leaning her back against Hudson’s chest. “We should hurry before Hudson pee’s himself with excitement.”

“This way.” George walked up to InkBird, standing before a keypad. He punched in some numbers, the door swinging open. We all rushed inside. “Be careful, we can’t mess anything up in here.” He walked again, Sierra, Hudson and I followed behind closely. “Just down here.” We all stepped down the dimly lit stairwell. “This is it.” He pushed open a heavy door. “Welcome to the Koutetsu.” It takes my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the darkness, at first I can’t see anything, but as my eyes flicker in and out of focus a magnificent bar unfolds in front of me.

“It’s dark,” Sierra commented as we all shuffled in. “But it's giving me this moody, sexy vibe.” I looked around at the exposed brickwork, dark timber furniture, stripped back walls, along with antique lamps and steel mesh hanging from the ceiling. “Do you think they took these from one of the many construction sites around the city?” She asked pointing to the steel mesh.

“Maybe, Koutetsu does mean steel.” I couldn’t help but imagine how the lighting, of this bar, was perfect for a first date. Filled with many spots where someone could sneak away for a romantic moment. I couldn’t help but wish I was sneaking away for a romantic moment with a certain blue-eyed boy.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of alcohol-fuelled caresses under the table and sweet whispers of nothings when Sierra and Hudson were too wrapped up in their own world.

When it drew to a close he didn’t ask for my number, he didn’t try to kiss me. He whispered a sweet farewell into my ear and made sure I was safely in my cab on my way home before he left the sidewalk.

Now it was the next day and I was annoyed at him. I know I said I didn’t want him to kiss me, but feelings change and by the end of the night there was nothing more than I wanted.

“You okay Y/N? That’s the third latte you’ve turned into a cappuccino in the last hour.” I turned off the steam wand. Putting the jug of over frothed milk on the countertop. I sighed and turned to face Jackson. The manager of the small cafe where I worked.

“Just trying to educate people that the cappuccino is far better than a latte.” I ran my hands through my hair. “I’m sorry Jackson.”

“Don’t sweat it Y/N, we all have off days.” He picked up the jug of milk and finished one of the coffees. “Take this. Grab a muffin and take a break.” He handed me the coffee and shoo’d me with his free hand.

“Thanks Jackson.” I grabbed one of the muffins from the container. “See you in fifteen.”

“Take as long as you need, get your head together. No more cappuccino’s” I walked out of the service area and through the front door. Sitting at one of the small two-seater tables muffin and coffee in front of me. Stupidly I checked my phone, full of false hope that I’d gotten a message from an unknown number, and that number would be George’s.

There was no message.

“There she is.” I heard a loud voice in the distance boom over the hustle and bustle of New York. I didn’t pay much attention to it as I kept eating my muffin. These type of things happen a lot in the city.

“HoneyBird.” Great, now I was starting to imagine things. This man had gotten under my skin. “HoneyBird.” The metal chair across from me screeched against the concrete. I looked up only to be met with a bunch of flowers in my face.

“What?” The confusion was clear in my voice. Anyone could have heard it.

“Sorry, I’m late.” The flowers lowered to reveal the dashingly handsome face of George MacKay.

“How did you find me?” I took the flowers from him. Looking over the bouquet.

“Hudson.” He smirked. “Told me where to find you. He also gave me your number.”

“Why didn’t you ask for it last night?” George shrugged his shoulders.

“You told me that I didn’t have a chance until today.” He held his arms out. “So here I am.”

“These are beautiful.” I lent down and smelt the bouquet.

“Protea, rose, lisianthus, anthurium, snowberry and gum.” He rattled off as he pointed at the different flowers. When he looked up he shrugged slightly. A small smile breathtaking smile. “Mums a florist.”

“Back in England?” He nodded his head. “When did you move here?”

“Five years ago, I took over the shop from my uncle.”

“Shop?”

“InkBird. My uncle owns it, now I do, I guess.”

“You own InkBird?” He nodded his head. “That’s amazing George.”

“Yeah, I think so.” He looked so proud as he spoke about his work. “So I took that over from my uncle, renamed it. Changed the interior and now business is better than ever.”

“Do you want to go back?” I lent on my hand, elbow resting on the table. “To England that is?”

“Sometimes, but it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I do miss mum though.” He tapped his hand on the table, lip slipping between his teeth.

“What about your dad?”

“He died when I was eighteen.” Instinctively I reached across to grab his hand.

“I’m sorry George. I shouldn’t have said anything.” I rubbed my thumb across the skin.

“It’s alright. It’s been ten years.” So he’s twenty-eight. “You never stop to miss them though.”

“Still, he was your dad.” He flipped our arms over so his covered forearm was on display.

“See this.” He pointed with his free arm to a beautiful line of scripture.

“You’ll never walk alone.”

“My dad's favourite football team, Liverpool, that’s their motto. Got it for him.” I ran my hand along his skin.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“So are you.” I looked up. “But I knew you would be.”

“You were drunk, and you called me beautiful.”

“And now it’s the morning and I’m sober, but you’re still beautiful.”

“Y/N.” My name being called broke me out of my George induced daze. “Y/N, we need you,” Jackson called sticking his head out the door.

“I’ll be right in,” I called standing, grabbing onto my flowers, muffin and near-empty coffee cup. “Thank you for the flowers, George.” Building up a moment of pure courage I smiled leaning down, kissing his cheek.

“I’ll message you.” He smiled, turning in his seat as I went to walk away.

“I look forward to it.” I walked back into the cafe, I pushed open the door with my hip. A line of customers spanned from the front door to the service area. Jackson stood at the register, while a line of coffee orders sat. Behind him our other waitress Harriet stood fiddling with a croissant.

“New boyfriend?” Jackson motioned to George who was walking past the front window.

“Who knows.” I smiled walking towards the coffee machine. I deposited the flowers underneath the counter on the way. Picking up the first slip I got to work. I felt myself slip back into the rhythm I found myself in every day I worked. It was pretty fun being a barista and working here with Jackson. Harriet on the other hand wasn’t the highlight of my day.

“I think we’re going to need to get rid of Harriet,” Jackson whispered as we scrubbed down the cafe. “She’s just not catching on.”

“That mean’s we have to find someone else.” He nodded his head. “That’ll be the hard part.”

“You head home, I’ll finish this.” He grabbed the cloth from my hand. “You still right to open tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you around eight?” I turned on my heel and began my walk home. Halfway through my walk, I realised I was walking towards InkBird, towards George. I peered through the windows. I couldn’t see anybody.

Going in wouldn’t hurt...

I pushed the heavy door open and was hit with the smell of bleach and sterilisation.

“We’re closed.” The all to familiar voice called from somewhere within the shop. “Come back tomorrow, or call up and make an appointment.” He called again. A plan formulated in my head when I noticed the brass bell sitting on a whitewashed counter. I reached out and tapped it the loud ping echoing around the parlour. “Didn’t you hear me?” I heard heavy boots hit the wooden floor. “I said we’re not open. So fuck off…”

“That’s not a nice way to treat your customers,” I smirked as George rushed to a halt. It took me a moment for me to realise that he was shirtless. Only a pair of jeans hanging around his waist. His hands rested on his hips, pushing his jeans down even more. I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander his chest again, the muscles looked almost too tempting.

“Took you long enough.” He smirked, arms crossing over his chest leaning casually against the doorframe. “What took you so long?”

“You knew I’d come?’’ He shrugged his shoulders.

“I hoped you would.” What was this man doing to me. Coming down on me like a storm in a small country town. He pushed away from the wall and walked over to me, each step more determined than the last. “Now.” He reached me. I took a step back, he took one closer until my back was flush with the door. “Tell me” One arm went above my head resting, the other reaching around by my waist locking the door. It made a sharp clicking noise. “Why did you come Honey Bird?” He lent down so his head was level with mine.

“I haven’t made any bad decisions lately.” My voice came out breathless, much like I felt.

“I can be a bad decision.” He leant in closer, lips brushing my cheek. The lightest touch from this man was enough to send shivers through my whole body. “If you want me to stop.” He whispered, lips brushing underneath my ear this time. “Tell me now.” I couldn’t speak, and even if I could, I wouldn’t stop him. “Or now.” He kissed my jawline gently. “Tell me HoneyBi -.” He didn’t have time to finish. I’d reached my hand around his neck, pulling him to me, the rest of his words, his nickname for me. My nickname. Lost against my mouth as he kisses me gently. This wasn’t a time for gentle, he was shirtless and I wanted more. I was sure if he’d had a shirt on my hands would be knotted in his shirt, but he was shirtless and the only thing I could pull on to make it known I wanted more was his hair. So that’s what I did. Hands knotting in his hair, pulling it. He groaned, low in his throat and then he was kissing me harder, with a vehement urgent need that it’d never felt before. He’s kissing me once, twice, three times. He’s everywhere. “Up.” He groans lips leaving mine for a fraction of a second. “Honey Bird.” He speaks again. I understand what he wants, and I jump. He catches me with ease. My back hits the door. Doorknob digging into my back, it’ll leave a bruise but I can’t find a care for it at the moment.

Between us, a weightless, seamless desire flowed. Our bodies in synch with one and other. The kisses started out soft and slow building as George held me against the door, his hands pulling up my shirt, over my head leaving me as dressed as he was. Our bodies moved together, my back scratching against the heavy wooden door, floorboards squeaking underneath George’s feet. When I’d come here this afternoon this is not what I pictured we’d be doing, but deep in my heart, I knew there were no other possibilities of how we’d spend our time together. I wanted to kiss him forever, for as long as I could. I blocked out all the thoughts about what this was, what it might mean and what future messes I’d created for myself.

“Honey Bird.” He whispered as my lips went to his neck. “Unless you want half of Brooklyn to see you being fucked…” He kissed the top of my right breast, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Fuck everything he does is hot, all hands and lips. The scent. The taste. The feel of him between my legs, it was all like tiny fireworks going off all over me. Bits of me I didn’t think possible were igniting. “And thoroughly fucked at that, I suggest we take this to my office.” I leaned up, biting his earlobe.

“Lead the way.” George let me down, pulling me behind him, leading me to the doorway he’d walked out from minutes ago. I didn’t get a chance to look around before George pushed me roughly against the wall. He gathered my wrists in one of his hands holding them above my head while his other world it’s way to the waistband of my pants. I couldn’t touch him but I could see exactly what I wanted straining at his pants, pressing against his jeans.

“You want to touch huh?” I nodded my head. Lips pushing out in a pout as I looked at him. “What did you want?” His voice was soft and it sent a shiver down my spine.

“You.” George’s lips brushed over my cheek and up beside my ear.

“You have me,” He kissed just below my ear, biting and pulling on the lobe. “Any way you want me,” He bit the soft skin of my neck, I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped. He made me feel so good.

“Now?” My voice was breathy. I could barely recognise it. He was doing this all to me. George laughed softly, breath blowing over the freshly marked skin of my neck.

“What do you want my love?”

“Your mouth.” I whispered, cheeks flushing softly. Warmth flooding them. George’s first response was a groan, his hips pushing into me.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He picked me up and carried me over to a desk… His desk. He pushed things of the desk before sitting me atop. Legs hanging over the side. Skirt pushed up. “Perfect height.” He muttered to himself, pulling the seat towards us. He reached under my skirt, fingers hooking onto my panties. “You sure?” I bit my lip and nodded. I need this. I raised my hips and let him peel them off, the silk leaving small bumps in it’s wake as the cold air hit my skin. George didn’t stop looking at me as my panties fell to the floor forgotten. He didn’t break eye contact as his lips found my knees, the soft skin of my thighs. I watched as he kissed along the skin of my thighs, getting closer and closer to where I wanted him to be. His hands pulled at my hips softly.

“Come closer,” George demanded softly. I shifted my hips forward, the edge of the desk underneath me. He laughed under his breath.

“What is it?”

“Already wet for me,” He grinned at me, and traced a finger lightly over me just missing where I needed him most.

“I’ve been like this since this afternoon,” I whispered back, head falling back. Needing a moment without his eyes looking into mine. He touched my clit softly. I flinched, before pushing forward. Needing his hand. It wasn’t there. “Don’t tease,” I whined, pressing my hips forward, trying to find him. George nipped at my inner thigh. I looked back down at him. God, it was a sight.

“Are you always so needy,” He raised an eyebrow at me even as a smile tugged at his lips. He stood, reaching for my hand. Bringing it to his lips.

“Only for you,” I murmured as George kissed my fingertips.

“Only for me?”I hummed in agreement, before leaning back again wishing he’d touch me. When I didn’t feel anything for a moment I moved my head back. Looking down at George, biting my lip as he pressed his cheek to my inner thigh. So close. “You look good from every angle, but I think this is my favourite,” George groaned and tilted his head to look back at you. His blue eyes sparkled as his lips tugged up in a lopsided grin. “Time for dessert.” He swiped his tongue into me so quickly that my moan was nearly silent as he knocked the breath out of me. Fuck he was good with his tongue. My hips rocked against him, his tongue licking into my deeply. His nose brushed over my clit.

“Fuck.” George hummed in response, the vibrations doing magical things to my body. “Jesus.”

“Name’s George actually.” He chuckled against me. “You taste good.” He buried his face in me, groaning at the taste as his tongue thrust in and out at a rapid rate. My breath was caught in my chest as the pleasure… God, it was intoxicating me.

“George… fuck, I’m- Jesus - I’m not going to last if you keep-” I was abruptly cut off by my own orgasm. George’s name rolled off my tongue multiple times as I came down, He didn’t stop though. His tongue kept moving. But even when he pulled away it was too soon, I missed the feeling of him.

“Barely got a taste of you.” My body clenched hotly at his words. His grin only grew as he felt my reaction. I sat up properly. Looking at him. Lips shinning with me. I leant forward and kissed him hotly. Like I’d never kissed someone before. He’d done this to me. Turned me into a sex-crazed woman in under twenty-four hours.

“My turn.” I pushed him back into his chair and slid off the desk. Standing naked in front of him.

“What do you have in mind?” My hands move down to his jeans, leaning forward moaning into his ear.

“There are a few things I could do, George.” I pulled open the belt buckle.

“Like what?” His voice cracking as he grinds up. I couldn’t help myself, as I slowly unbutton his jeans stopping every now and then to bite at his neck. I was enjoying this far too much.

“Well, I could use my hand…” I grabbed the zipper, pulling it down. I looked into George’s eyes, smirking. “Or I can make you cum in your jeans.” He grabbed onto my face, pulling me into him. I nearly fell onto him. His finger running over my bottom lip. Slipping into my mouth.

“How about you use that perfect mouth of yours.” I bit the tip of his finger. “Please.” His voice dripping with want, making my mouth water.

No man had ever spoken to me in such a manner, fuck. It was like a whole revelation.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” With that, I lent down and pulled his jeans down his legs. I dropped to my knees and look at his exposed cock, hard, for me. George looked down at me and I swear, the site nearly made me cry. He looked so fucking perfect.

Without any more teasing, I reached out and gripped the base. Leaning in, I give the head a lick. His hand gripped my hair as my lips wrapped around him. A throaty moan escapes and he rolls eyes back. I gripped his hips as I push my way down, swallowing around him to pull out moans from his mouth. His grip on my hair tightens. A groan escapes as I feel him hit the back of my throat and the vibrations almost send him over the edge right there. He pulls my hair tighter, body freezing as he tries to calm down. When his grip loosens slightly I take it as my cue to move my head up and down, encouraging.

“Fuck that’s it.” He groans. Thrusting into my hips. “Your mouth is fucking perfect.”

I moan around the heavy cock in my mouth. My eyes flicker up and see him staring down at me with his eyes drowning in lust. His cheeks are red with want as his breath quickens.

I grip the base and groan one more time, his hand tightens as his voice breaks. “Fuck, Y/N” He hits the back of my throat. “Close.” I move faster, dragging him closer to the edge. His moans get louder. His voice gets deeper. His grip on my hair, turning me on even more. He tries to pull away as he comes but I don’t let him go. I just keep my eyes on his face as I swallow every drop. When he’s completely done I pull away and grin up at him. “Good?” He pulls me up and kisses me. It’s hot and sweaty. It’s a fucking perfect kiss.

“That was good for an opening act.”

“If that was only the opening act, I can’t wait for the main show.” George grabbed me and pulled me up, walking me backward until the back of my thighs hit the edge of the desk once more, He lifted me up, my ass resting on the rough wood. I wrapped my arms around his torso, nails scratching his back.

“Sure you want to do this, Sweetheart?” Concern laced his question. I smiled and grabbed onto his face, pulling him towards me nodding my head. He stopped millimetres from my lips. “Need to hear you say it.” His lips brushed mine as he spoke. God, he was so sexy.

“I want this, I want you…” Muttering pushing my lips so they touched his softly, George let out a low moan as he presses himself harder against my lips.

“You on the floor, God what a sight.” He mutters, hand wrapping in my hair pulling it softly. “Swear, I’ve never seen a prettier one.”

“George…” If he didn’t touch me, and where I needed him soon. I was sure I was going to cry. I started kissing his neck, lips running staying on his adam’s apple.

“I need to get… shit, I need to get a condom.” He went to pull away, hands moving from my hair, touch leaving me.

“You don’t. I’m covered.” I pulled him back hoping he got my drift. His eyes widened in surprise but quickly darkened once more. “As long as you’re clean of course…”

“I am yeah.” He pulled away to look at me again. “I just…” He shook his head. “HoneyBird where have you been?”

“Waiting for you to fuck me,” I smirked cheekily. George stepped back, hands dropping onto his hips. He stood proud and naked, smirking at me.

“For that comment, I think you need to ask nicely.” I looked up and down his body, quickly working over if I could live without feeling George inside me. “Better hurry, HoneyBird.” He smirked again.

“Please fuck me.” I whimpered needing the skin on skin contact he provided me, and that was all it took. He took one step forward and pulled my leg up to my hip. He worked himself so he was ready, waiting for me. “George…” He did one of his heartbreaking smiles as he pushed himself inside. Eyes not leaving mine. My mouth fell open when he was completely inside me, he stilled offering me a minute to relax. I concentrated on him, being inside me. The pleasure this man I’d known for under twenty-four hours was giving me was driving me insane.

“If you keep making those noises, and pulling my hair Honeybird…” He groaned as I shifted my hip’s a little. “I won’t be able to stop myself.” I nodded, biting into my bottom lip as he began slowly thrusting in and out. I tried to move with him, rocking against his hips and keeping my lips pressed to his. My breathing was starting to come out in huffs. Moans escaping between our kisses. He pressed his forehead to mine and closed his eyes as he picked up his pace.

“George.” A voice called from beyond the door. “Are you here. I’ve got dinner.”

“Shit.” George stilled, Hip’s stopping their movements. “I’ll be out in a minute Clara, meet me upstairs.”

“What are you doing?” The voice, Clara called louder, closer this time.

“Just finishing a consultation with a client.” He called back. His hips starting once again. Was he serious?

“Kay.” I tried to push George out as footsteps trailed away from the door.

“What are you doing?” He asked grabbing my hips. He's not stopping.

“You’ve got to get back to your Girlfriend.” I knew it was too good to be true, he was too good to be true.

“She’s my roommate, not a girlfriend.”

“You’re single.”

“As can be.” He whispered kissing my lips. “Cheating really isn’t up my alleyway.” He began to thrust faster again. “Now, we really do have to hurry.”

“Wait,” I said, putting my hand on his chest and pushing him away.

“What are you doing?”

“We have to hurry remember,” I smirked sliding of the desk, turning so my elbows were on it.

“Fucking hell, HoneyBird.” A guttural groan escaped him.

“Oh my God,” I groaned as he pressed back inside, perfectly angled. I buried my face in my arms wishing nothing more than to be free to scream about how good he was making me feel, especially when he picked up his pace.

“Fuck,” he said again, inhaling sharply as he clutched my hips, short nails digging into my skin. The desk began to move beneath us but there was no stopping now. I heard George groan as his hips jerked violently against me, slapping against my skin. I turned back, locking eyes with him. He was concentrating, hard. Lip pulled between his teeth. “Next time…. Fuck. Next time I’m taking you slow…” He wanted there to be a next time…

“… m’ close.” I whimpered as I reached my peak. George followed closely behind me, body seizing as he reached his own orgasm. My body instantly fell into a state of utter relaxation. George’s body pressed atop of mine. “God that was good,” I whispered not sure I would be able to talk properly.

“God, you are fantastic.” He pulled up, slipping from me. I felt discomfort for a second as he left me. I couldn’t stand just yet. So instead I let my head drop onto George’s desk. “If you stay like that HoneyBird, I’m going to have to fuck you again.”

“As tempting as that sounds, you have to get up to your dinner,” I whispered, turning around. I sat on the desk. Completely naked and spent. George walked up to me, wrapping an arm around my waist. Kissing me.

“Come up and have dinner with Clara and me?”

“I don’t want to intrude George.”

“Nonsense, there’s plenty.” George picked me up, helping me redress myself. “We’re having Chinese and watching Netflix all night.”

“Okay.” He looked at me perplexed for a moment. “What is it?”

“Clara is into pussy as much as I am,”

“George.” I hit his chest.

“You can’t fuck my roommate okay, only me.”

“I'm not really into vagina’s myself, so don’t worry.”

“If you’re a good girl, you might get some dessert later on.” He winked as he slipped his jeans back on. “Who am I kidding, after that performance, you can literally walk all over me and I’d still beg you to let me fuck you again.”

“You don’t have to beg anytime soon George,” I smirked wrapping my arms around his waist. “But I am hungry.”

“Upstairs we go.” He smacked my bum as he ushered me out of the room. "You go first." He smiled when we reached the stairs. "This way I get to watch you from behind again.”

"Keep it in your pants, George," I whispered. "Or at least for later."

"Fuck, HoneyBird you are going to be the death of me." He groaned under his breath.

HoneyBird Pt.2

_______________________________________________________________________

If you have any requests I’m happy to try and fulfil them.

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #GeorgeMackay #George MacKay fanfic #George MacKay Imagine #George MacKay Smut

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inessencedevided · 5 years ago

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The Untamed, episode 46 - watching notes

Countdown is down to 4 episodes :'(

See this first scene? Just them stroling around between serious business - that's what I'd pay good money to see another 50 episodes of

Matchmaker-wwx for Wen Ning? I'd read that fic :D

Although I'm trying to imagine what that would be like. "Hey lady, this is my best friend. He's got a really sweet personality. He's great with kids. Very loyal. And let's just say, you'll never have to cook for two, isn't that great?"

Yeah, lan Sizhui is indeed a good candidate for a friend :')

Oh no, someone hug him 😥

I feel like I'll feel really stupid later, but should "Guanyin Temple" ring a bell for me?

Or is it a cultural thing that I'm just unaware of?

Aaaah, the temple was mentioned in the chamber! I remember!

Sorry that you guys have to endure my thought process in real time ^^

I've never seen someone bow so passive aggressively as that monk when wwx called him out on not being ordained (so not really a monk, right?)

Okay, no, he can't hold a candle to Jin Guangyao

Btw, I did a double take when they said it was a Buddhist temple. I'm really not used to there being real world religions in high fantasy settings. Usually, if there are religions (such as in got) or creation myths (such as in lotr), even though they are always modeled somewhat after real world believes they aren't called that. Having Buddhism in this universe is a bit like Georg R.R. Martin replacing the conflict between the seven gods and the old gods with a conflict between christianity and paganism or something like that ^^

I know it might sound like it, but this is not a judgement by the way, it doesn't bother mem. I just did a double take, that's all

Wei Wuxian would still call Jiang Cheng for backup :')

That's ominous 😳

What the hell is Jin Ling doing there?

Also how cute is it that our tough boy named his dog Fairy?

Lan Xichen?

What? Is? Happening?

I thought he was a prisoner?

Aren't those Jin disciples in there? Why doesn't jin Ling know about that and if he doesn't how come he's just coincidentally in the same city as them?

🤔

Hey yo, guys, maybe don't shoot your clan heir?!?

Does Jin Ling have a death wish?

Oh, the flute. That makes me weirdly sad :'(

Lan Xichen, you himbo! What are you doing???

Your otp could never

Oh now, THAT'S a villain entrance

Someone gets to choke Wei Wuxian and it's not Lan Wangji! A travesty! 😱

Sorry ^^

Oh, so Lan Xichen lost his power

Sorry, but that wonder dog does not look ferocious 😅

Please don't kill fairy though :/

I just wander ... at this point Jin Guangyao must plan to kill everyone of them. Because non of them would keep quiet about what happened permanently

Digging in a temple must be some form of blasphemy right?

Uuuhhh, Jin Guangyao knows how to hit even Lan Wangji's weak spots in reminding him of hoe he fought wwx earlier. He's GOOD

Oh this is beautiful and so so sad. He really never blamed him, even when they fought shortly before wwx's death, he only said that he always expected them to end up on opposite sides. There was no anger for lwj, even then 😥

And he gives him an out, which of course lwj won't take, cause he's not loosing him again! 😭

Holy shit, that's big. He just made himself powerless 😳

There is SO MUCH in that Lan Zhan I can't even begin to describe it 😭

Poor Lan Xichen ... :'(

Lan men, meditating their heartbreak away since ... probably Lan An

Also, I just noticed that Jin Ling is clutching his father's sword like he did when he was crying and now I imagine he always does this when he needs comfort and 😥

Wei Wuxian STILL thinks Lan Wangji is doing this because he feels like he owes him something? Darling ... I know you have issues, but you should trust his choice by now

Uhkayii, someone angered a god or why is there suddenly wind in that temple?

What even is his plan right now?

Nie Huaisang??? 😳 what's he doing here? Why is everyone in this random town?

No seriously, knowing the Lan men now, I'm not sure he'll recover from this :(

Netflix just translated whatever wwx said to "Lan Zhan gets a bum rep" and I can't stop laughing 😂

I love how there's a parallel between lan Wangji always putting himself in front of physical threats to wwx and how wwx always defends him verbally 💙🖤

"I'm not afraid of death. I just don't want to die." Is a pretty great line and I love how wwx justifies it. My first thoughts went to the deathly hallows and the invisibility cloak in particular first, though. Can't help it.

"My destiny is up to me and loss and gain don't concern me." My first, very quick, interpretation of that would be that it's his philosophy to cease the moment and use the time that is given to him as he sees fit. So he has a meaning and purpose in life and doesn't want to die. On the other hand, he is at piece with what he has achieved or not achieved in life, and should he die, he wouldn't begrudge the loss or mourn what could have been.

🤷‍♀️

Oooh

How is it that, in a show full if dramatic gays™️, Jiang Cheng is still the most dramatic of all of them???

Godda love that lwj protects wwx from a very cute dog with as much quiet stoicism as from someone pointing a sword at him 😁

So that gets rid of Su She ^^

Now THIS is one cool fight!

Jiggy with his clapping. They're ALL such dramatic bitches. I love them 😂

Wait, he acts like he knows about the core. HOW would he know about the core?

But he's GOOD

I know I keep saying it. But he's even found wei Wuxian's weak spot and that's difficult at this point

Did I just see Jiang Cheng save Lan Wangji?

That's a VERY sane smile

Oh no, there is going to be an emotional confrontation about the golden core next. Right? I feel like I'll need a cup of hot chocolate to bear that 😥

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony @kyrrahbird @i-love-him-on-purpose

Imma be honest. This episode still only raised more questions than it answered. I still have no idea what Jiggy's plan is 😅

#the untamed #sophie watches the untamed #wei wuxian #wwx #lan wangji #lwj #wangxian #jiang cheng #lan xichen #jin ling #the untamed liveblog

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alovevigilante · 4 years ago

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Me: Ok. I’ve made an executive decision on behalf of all of us...

Me also: are you an executive?

Me: yes.

Me also: at what company?

Me: ours. Yours and mine.

Me 3: and mine too!

Me: yes, at threes company, ok? Will you just listen to me? (The other me’s sit, silent) thank you. Now, we have all come to terms with the fact that we’re 46 and still not sure where the hell we fit in in society, let alone a career to help aid it, right?

Other me’s: yes, Agreed, (hub hub etc...)

Me: ok, good. Well, not good, but yes, we all concur. Now, we, collectively, are a fucking mess, so I propose this: we start from scratch. At zero point, ok? Ok! Great!

Me also: um, question?

Me: yes?

Me also: I don’t mean to be a contrarian or anything, but we’ve been here on earth now for 46 years, and we’ve experienced a butt ton. So, how do you just scrap it all, and have that be something that’s widely accepted by society as a whole?

Me 3: yeah! Cause I saw this one “I love Lucy” where she couldn’t even audition for a tv show without having some experience.

Me: yeah, but we’re completely walking away from the entertainment industry...

Me also: yeah, but what are we going to do? Walk into a different profession, let’s say, being an astrophysicist, and they say, “hey lady, where are your degrees and your on the job training, & oh, I see here on your non resume that you have never even taken a physics class. Were you in a coma for 50 years or something?” And then we’ll look like an asshole.

Me: good point. So, since we can’t start at a zero point, how do we make life ok from where we’re at if we’re feeling lost and confused about what to do next?

Me 3: I dunno.

Me also: well, maybe we can mediate.

Me: eh. You feel like that?

Me 3: not particularly. Me also?

Me also: I was hoping one of you would do it for me...

Me: no.

Me 3: no.

Me also: fine. Any other ideas?

Me: well... how about thinking about shit.

Me also: that’s what got us in this mess to begin with!

George Carlin: hello ladies! May I be of some assistance here?

Me 3: why not? We’re plum out of ideas...

George: ok, well, let’s simplify a bit, Kari, singular, let’s chat.

Kari: hey George.

George: love the pic you choose to rep me.

Kari: yeah. You’re being a lil Italian when you talk with the garlic clove shaped hand you got going there. 🤌 🧄 🇮🇹

George: Yeah. I’m diggin it. But you know, in your mind, I’m one of the reasons you’re here in this ass place.

Kari: you are? how do you figure?

George: people don’t like the fact that you write on behalf of the deceased.

Kari: well, Tim burton did it in beetle juice and a lot of folks love him..

George: ok Kari, can I be Frank... Sinatra-like with you?

Kari: I dunno, can you?

George: yeah. Just pretend I’m sporting a fedora, a cigarette in one hand, and throwing my jacket back over my shoulder with the other looking at you coyly.

Kari: ok... if you want to... but is the cigarette in his pocket? Cause if it’s lit, that shits gonna hurt his Netherlands eventually....

George: (like Sinatra) no. Now listen up, baby, it’s not normal to write on behalf of a dead person that was not a character, and that whom was once alive. People get touchy about it. We have friends still alive that knew us and probably don’t dig it.

Kari: I see.

George: so it seems like we’re at a crossroads here. What do you want to do about it?

Kari: do about what?

George: your writing! It’s freakin everyone out! Kari, look, you know how normal Hollywood is, ok? They are all normal, non creative, in the box gladly thinker kinda people...

Kari: they are?

George: yes!!! Come on, keillor, get with the program! You are too far fetched for these folks! They want normalcy, and sameness, and only all the shit that’s ever been shat!

Kari: George, are we talking about Hollywood California, here? Or Hollywood podunk nah? Because Hollywood California is where all the creatives go to create!

George: right! And guess what, Kari Keillor! You are not welcomed in Hollywood, California! They have a sign up with your picture on it at the airport that says, “beware! No to this woman! Too much with the weirdness! She writes dead people!”

Kari: I write live people too... hey, do I have a cowboy hat and a mustache on for my mugshot on that sign?

George: nice one Cookie Monster! Well, Keillor why not?! You may as well, because this story has as much validity as any other story you make up and make worse in your head cause you’re sensitive about of your writing...

Kari: you’re the one that said all that shit! You planted it in my head!!!

George: so I did, but remember, I’m a facet of you. So, decide. Is there any validity to what I/you said?

Kari: how the hell should I know?! I haven’t been in lax recently...

George: right! So you never know until you try talking to some people.

Kari: I’ll call the airport... Listen, George, I’ll be perfectly Frank Sinatra with you now, ok.?

Don rickles: no mere woman can be like ole blue eyes...

Kari: Shut your misogynistic, ass-kissing pie hole, Pickles.

Pickles rickles: oh fuck... she does it to me every time...

Frank Sinatra:, you tell him, baby!

Kari: I’m 46. (Back to George Carlin) Anyway, look George, I have had a few successful people from my entertainment past either shun or block me for no apparent reason, so I’m pretty sure that I’m not well received again, for whatever reason... probably because I wrote the truth about a second city class I took when I was 16, about the current state of snl which I am completely unfamiliar with because I do not watch it, and the way comedy has changed or not over the last many years. Come to think of it, maybe it was because I love frank oz, and frank was mad cause I wrote that belushi John was teasing him and calling him an asshole, another ironic statement because clearly frank oz, NOT an asshole, was many of the muppets for years, and Frank is one of my idols! (Not a true central religious figure to me, but someone I admire a lot...)

Frank Sinatra: who loves ya, baby??

Kari: (to Frank) kojak. (Back to herself) Or it could be because i called bill murray, the beloved patron saint of comedy, an asshole like me, yes, I said like ME, out of jest and irony, because yes, he cared about the kid in meatballs making friends, ok?! That’s probably it. & yes, i was kinda stoned when I wrote it, and also yes, I still can’t figure out why the movie was ducking named “meatballs”, cause there wasn’t an Italian to be seen in it! Ok?! And come to think of it bill as Peter venkman in ghostbusters 2, written in part, by him I think but let’s just say yes cause it supports my point, called all of New York City and it’s tri state area, all 3 million people, miserable assholes, and they took a head count, & they still (probably mostly) all love him! & that shit was good (I love that movie so much) and it was made in 1989, and that was a long ass time ago, ok? And some of those people, have procreated since then, and again, they all love bill Murray and now those “miserable asshole’s” kids, ALSO love Bill now! Double the miserable assholes! Why?! Because he’s funny, and much like me when I’m being tongue and cheek, he didn’t mean for people to take the shit he says seriously! See for yourself! https://youtu.be/t1gkRAWvxOs (1:15 on)

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So yes!!! I just think people are not into that kind of talk from me and me alone, even though it wasn’t coming from a mean or spiteful place. It was coming from a place of love for my craft, and of both frank oz, and bill Murray. The rest, as I say once again... I dunno....

George: Kari, frank just told you he loves you, and you blatantly ignored him...

Kari: no, he asked who loved me. He didn’t say he loved me.

George: Keillor, stop being so mean to the dead crooners, ok?

Kari: pickles isn’t a crooner! He’s a ye olde well paid curmudgeon who made fun of everyone like a jerk fach.

George: um, Kari...

Kari: no, ok? No! The difference between me and pickles, besides everything under the sun other than the fact we’re both human, is the fact that I am pointing out the obvious hypocrisy of the way we are set up as society, and wanting to heal it within myself to make it a more palatable world for me and my family and friends and acquaintances to live in. And pickles thought making fun of people was ok. What royal lineage did pickles come from that he’s able to rip on everyone the way he did? And even if he was of a royal bloodline so fucking what?! And dude got paid to be mean! And normal people made him rich and famous! And how did that become prevalent, let alone celebrated in this world?! Roast em! Yes! Hilarious.

Dean Martin: oh noooo... hey, listen pally...

Kari: dean, don’t get me started, ok? Cause I like you, I really do, but you know how I feel about that shit... Listen, Dean, you left a legacy here that was mostly great, but in my opinion needs a lil tweaking. Instead of “roasts” which people do to this day, and I can’t see how it can make the honoree feel anything other than like major ass, we should have “toasts” (copyright Kari keillor 3/19/21 actually before this date but I never published publicly...)

Pickles rickles: toasts?!? What is THAT supposed to mean?!

Kari: it means, my curious lil ornery pickles, that instead of roasting someone and being a mean rotter egg to them, you can “toast” them. Cheers to you, honoree, we salute you, in a hilarious way, by being honest about you but not vicious, viper like, and cruel. It’s where everyone laughs together cause it’s not a character assassination, instead of ripping on someone. It’s being funny, and yes, in a KIND and uplifting way. Where you actually celebrate the person being honored. Now, will that take a lil more brain power then the go-to usual jerk fach? Yes. But, it’s a challenge I hope everyone will accept for the good of all of us. Cause I guarantee that no one walks out of a roast feeling great. And if they do, cause they thought they killed or whatever, they probably did. And not in a good way. And that, again, is ass. No one wins. It’s a short lived feeling, the feeling of “one upping” a person. It never makes you feel better about you in the long run.

Dean: I see. I think I’ll go work on my volare now...

Kari: see?!? Now THAT I like! It’s not at anyone’s expense!

George: oh shit.... kari.... Why do you give a fuck about all this?

Kari: you know why George? Cause this has become our accepted collective energy! The haves and the have nots! Take away your money and what have you got?! Who are you, without the people who have made you who you are?! People, make other people in the 3D reality we live in. So take away everyone’s cash money, homes, clothes, and all the cars, and all the shit, and what do ya got? A bunch of naked humans starring at our different body bits, ok?! We’re All the f’n same. So think about it. What are we each individually contributing energetically to the whole of us? What message are we sending the next generations In our every day lives? I’ll tell you what message. Whatever we feel about ourselves individually both good and bad. THAT’S what energy we all give, and receive from one another. That’s what we’re teaching the kids. They model themselves after how we feel, and how we choose to think, and how we decide to act toward others. So let’s all collectively recognize that, and how we treat other human beings and wake up first inside ourselves then beyond ourselves so we can all make the whole, better.

I am not an asshole or a human joke or any other kind of joke. I’m not going to cry over the fact that I’m not accepted by people who’s energies don’t match mine. And by the by, no one is a joke, no matter who they are, or what their socioeconomic standing is. So I don’t wear an ascot and a smoking jacket, and a neck full of gold chains and chest hair, holding a whiskey on the rocks with an umbrella in it saying “see that?! be somebody!” ok?! I’m not Steve Martin in the jerk, ok? https://youtu.be/tBfXTyzaUfQ

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I’m not even close to Hollywood! I live in the Midwest! I’m Kariwood, ok? And I’m not even kari wood, I’m no woods, ok? cause I’m pretty much never in the woods or the outdoors for that matter, so much so that I just purchased a sweatshirt that says, “indoorsy” on it, ok? True story! So yeah. Cause one time I was in Wisconsin in the woods, and I was thinking, “look at me! I’m in the woods! Weird, no?!” (Cause never in the woods, but I thought, I’ll give it a shot! What’s the worst that can happen?) And guess what? Despite my shower the night before, I felt something on the base of my skull the next morning, and I picked out a really nasty, creepy and scary tick. And it was alive, and disgusting, and wiggly. And I started screaming. And I am still freaked out to this day about it. And that happened at least 17 years ago. And I didn’t like it. So that’s how “non woods-y” I am... I’m not even a fan of woodsy the owl, ok?

So I don’t know how I feel about all that. All this to say that I am definitely not Hollywood, but yes, I am included, as a “somebody”. I may not be an award winning, keillor, but I am still somebody, and I may not be rich and famous, but yes, I am somebody, and I may have been on one trajectory and now I do t know what the heck I am now, ok? It’s true, and yes, I’ve posted this before and I’ll keep posting it until everyone in me gets on board with it, yes! I am still somebody because yes, dear me, we are all this: somebody! : https://youtu.be/tu0lNcrZjG8

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George: hard to argue with that.

Kari: eh. You know what I am, George?

George: yes, Kari. I know what you are. But do you?

Kari: well, I feel, like I’m one of those kids on Sesame Street sometimes, looking up at and intently listening to Jesse Jackson, wondering how to get from small to big, and from where I am, to the success that he reps, you know? The importance of being admired by many. Having a big platform to play on. A huge soapbox to stand on, you know?

George: yes. I get it, Kari, I really do. And we’ve all been there. But everyone’s story about themselves, is different. How we all got to where we are, was our own personal trajectory that we designed with our beliefs. And our thoughts. There’s no set pattern or manual to follow. The only energy you must follow, is your passion and your joy, aka the love. That’s it. So, if you want to be, and decide to be, you ARE Hollywood,. Because Hollywood isn’t a specific person or group of people, it’s a place, and an energy. Hollywood is what you make it to be with how you view it. You don’t have to “be” Hollywood to be in Hollywood...

Kari: you said I wasn’t allowed in Hollywood..

George: you may not be. All I’m saying, is that you are whatever you decide you are. The end.

Kari: well, am I or not? Cause I don’t want to go and be turned away. Besides, I love visiting olvera st.

George: Its a fine street, it is. Great margaritas... listen Kari, you cannot achieve anything in this life that you don’t truly believe is in the realm of your possibility. So yes! You can be, and pretty much are are Hollywood keillor, even if it’s in the Midwest in your own home.. You are creative, and love the arts, and are nutsy, and ballsy, and you may hold the title as being the first person to ever separate the two, and bring them back together in a scote sack, ok? So keep writing, and be yourself.

Kari: I dunno. But what I do know is this: I did it again...

George: did what?

Kari: reactivated all the shit memories and feelings from the past that I’ve felt about my career, allowing myself to relive all those fun feels of inadequacy and upset alllll over again.

George: aww, it’s happened to the best of us. Listen Kari, you are, in my humble not so humble opinion, since I’m still you, a loving person. So you reflect that way; with humor, and yes, absurdist, surreal comedy.

Kari: well, I’ll try.

George: You already do. Your credentials are superfluous. Your love and support of you no matter what you do moving forward is what you’ll feel when you choose to, and it’s available anytime you want to feel it. And when you feel that, it really doesn’t matter what you do.

Kari: ok, well, thanks George. It’s nice to know I have you around.

George: Kari, you were once told that you are golden, no?

Kari: well, I was told that I’ll be golden at some point moving forward doing whatever it is I choose to do.

George: right. So, when are you going to decide to experience that?

Kari: hopefully soon.

George: Kari, why do you chop to talk to and write about us “passed over folk”?

Kari: I dunno. I guess it’s cause I love and miss you guys in theory, even though I didn’t know you personally. And I like to re-experience your energy, as I appreciated and admired it. It helps me feel better.

George: you’re now golden.

Scene.

Appendices: if you choose to perform this scene, good luck. I’d like you to do it all in one breath, if you are a more advanced, and professional actor. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣💕💕💕💕

#choose love #love matters #love manifestation #self reflection #self love #self care #self esteem #selfworth #self development #self improvement #self definition #self image #love yourself #george carlin #a love vigilante

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

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So the story goes like this: I’m in London for the month, popping into every used bookstore I find, and while in one I spot Captains' Logs Supplemental: The Unauthorized Guide to the New Trek Voyages. Though baggage weight limits won’t let me buy it (I have already bought so many books) I did snap pics of the “Past Prologue,” “Cardassians,” and “The Wire” entires. And then transcribed them. Because I thought the other Garak stans might enjoy this info!

Worth the read imo 💜

Episode #3 “Past Prologue” Original Airdate: 1/11/93 Written by Katharyn Powers Directed by Winrich Kolbe Guest Starring: Jeffrey Nordling (Tahna), Andrew Robinson (Garak), Barbara March (Lursa), Vaughn Armstrong (Gul Dunar), Richard Ryder (Bajoran Deputy), Susan Bay (Admiral), Gwynyth Walsh (B’Etor)

“We didn’t want your typical Cardassian in there,” says director Winrich Kolbe of the creation of one of DS9’s break-out characters, the Cardassian spy Garak. “Obviously it would have been hard to put a real Cardassian soldier in a clothing store. Perhaps it would have been terrific, who knows, but what we felt we had to deal with was somebody abnormal—at least as far as the Cardassians were concerned. It was one of those things where I wasn’t quite sure whether Andy Robinson would be the right guy. I had a different idea as to what type of actor I wanted, but Andy Robinson was available and turned out to be terrific. What I wanted, which shows how far off I was, was Sydney Greenstreet. I have to admire an actor who has to come in at three in the morning and stay in that kind of makeup for the rest of the day and still be able to give a performance.”

Comments Michael Piller, “One of the things about ‘Past Prologue’ that bothered me was that Bashir’s performance was in a very broad range—and this was newness. I believe we have strange aliens, strange makeup, spaceships, explosions and wormholes and costumes that are crazy, so that the people within them have to be entirely credible. If those people get too big in their performances, then you go into opera, and it becomes space opera, foolish and unbelievable. Patrick Stewart really led the way with us in Next Generation, which is to underplay. When you think you’re going to go big, you come down, and it has much more power and credibility. You believe there’s a space station or a spaceship like Enterprise. The biggest problem with the early shows is that some of the performances were too big or too restrained. We had to find the even tone for the ensemble to work together. Our voices weren’t quite right, and the performances were uneven. The first episode hurt the character of Bashir because he was so broad in those scenes with Andy Robinson that he looked like the greenest recruit in the history of the Starfleet, and that hurt him for two or three episodes. If we were shooting it today, his performance would be much more credible, and he wouldn’t have the same reaction from the audience that he has now.”

Klingon renegades Lursa and B’Etor, of course, were introduced in the Next Generation two-parter “Redemption,” and were used as part of an attempt to tie Deep Space Nine into existing Trek continuity. The characters eventually perished in battle against the Enterprise in the feature film Star Trek: Generations.

“The creative synergy allows you incredible opportunities,” remarks Piller. “It’s interesting how we used them. Essentially, we had a story and, in the case of Lursa and B’Etor, we said, ‘Hey, we’ve got a real kind of Casablanca spy story and we need someone to really be doing double dealings and bringing money and doing gun exchanges; why don’t we use the Klingons—and use those characters that we love so much? It works out just fine to use those guys because then there’s a connection and an identification. There’s a backstory, there’s a history, and all of these things make for such a richer series.”

Says Ira Behr, “There’s no doubt that people like [TNG characters like] Lwaxana [Troi] and Q and Vash and a bunch of others. They have a certain life to them as characters and an energy that certainly helped The Next Generation and helps us too. The characters that don’t have to be Starfleet and don’t have those strings we have attached so often. A lot of times you have people performing those characters who take a lot of relish in doing them, so they’re fun to have come back.”

Piller doesn’t feel that in exploiting The Next Generation’s voluminous history Deep Space Nine has an unfair advantage, appealing to those already familiar with Trek lore. “You have to look at the shows themselves,” he insists. “There’s no question in my mind that conceptually, each of these shows would work because they’re about the new characters. In ‘Past Prologue,’ there’s a moral dilemma for Major Kira where she has to confront her loyalty to her past life and what her new life is going to be. It’s really about her. It’s illuminating our new characters. As I’ve always said, the guest stars are catalysts. There have been times when I have not been satisfied, more prior to my arrival, that the shows have been about the guest stars, but ultimately the shows that succeed are when the guest stars are serving as catalysts to illuminate our characters.”

Episode #25 “Cardassians” Original Airdate: 10/25/93 Teleplay by James Crocker Story by Gene Wolander and John Wright Directed by Cliff Bole Guest Starring: Rosalind Chao (Keiko O’Brien), Andrew Robinson (Garak), Robert Mandan (Kotan Pa’Dar), Terrence Evans (Proka), Vidal Peterson (Rugal), Dion Anderson (Zolan), Marc Alaimo (Gul Dukat)

“I didn’t have a lot of faith in this show at first,” admits Ira Behr. “It was such an issue-oriented show that I thought we would oversimplify a complicated issue, but what got me into the show was when I realized this was not only a chance to bring back Garak but to do this whole weird little number with what’s going on between him and Dukat. To me, that nailed the character and I knew after that happened we were going to see a lot of Andy Robinson, who’s become quite popular on staff. What did not work for me was the kid and O’Brien. I thought that was very obvious stuff compared to the rest of the episode. Sometimes we have a tendency to overload the stories. Ultimately, who cared about this kid? It was weak compared to the rest of the episode.”

“As an actor, when I got the script, I didn’t realize Dukat was being set up to take the blame,” says Marc Alaimo, who portrays Gul Dukat. “But I played him as a man who was being set up. A man who was taking the dive because he had wanted to remove the children but his orders were to leave them. I never really understood that story. It seemed complicated to me, and I never quite understood how he got blamed for it.”

Episode #42 “The Wire” Original Airdate: 5/9/94 Written by Robert Hewitt Wolfe Directed by Kim Friedman Guest Starring: Andrew Robinson (Garak), Jimmie F. Skaggs (Glinn Boheeka), Ann Gillespie (Nurse Jabara), Paul Dooley (Enabran Tain)

“It just so happens some of the best shows are the least expensive, because we’re forced to be concise,” Ira Behr comments. “Our conceptual thinking of two guys in a room who are struggling for survival, or against each other, frequently makes for very good drama. This episode was an opportunity to show Bashir with a real strength that he hasn’t had before.

“[Story editor] Robert Wolfe talked passionately about doing this show, and we had always talked about the fact that Garak might have been George Smiley back in Cardassia and maybe we should explore that. Then I went to the movies and came back and said, ‘He’s Schindler.’ Why don’t we do Schindler and Smiley, and then Michale [Piller] said do all four stories, every one different. Robert came up with the idea that he tells this story about his best friend and it turns out to be him. Then you meet his mentor and best friend, who says, ‘I hope he dies, but tell him I miss him.’ That’s perfect; it’s all great stuff.”

Admittedly, “The Wire” could be perceived as an attempt to repeat the success of first season’s “Duet,” and the staff was aware of the similarities. “‘Duet’ was Kira’s crisis as much as the guy’s crisis, and this was much more Garak’s show,” offers Behr. “I thought that was a little dangerous, and we knew we were doing it, but let’s face it, the Cardassian monologue is great and Cardassians like to talk. They’re also great fun to write.”

Says David Livingston, “It’s a bottle show. It’s basically Andy Robinson in a room, but it’s very compelling because it’s one man intervening. Kurt Cobain needed Siddig. If he had had Sid he might have pulled through, because Sid knocks some sense into Andy’s head and says, ‘You’ve got to get off this stuff.’”

According to director Kim Friedman, “‘The Wire’ was kind of a challenge because most of the episode was two people in a room, Sid and Andy Robinson. It’s very hard to create pacing and energy for a show that is basically set in a room. But ultimately I was very pleased with the whole episode. I think my favorite moment was the implant withdrawal scene, which results in a fight between Bashir and Garak. It was just a very powerful moment.”

Paul Dooley, who played the menacing Enabran Tain, returned in DS9’s third season two-parter “Improbable Cause” and “The Die is Cast.” He is known for his role as Martin Tupper’s gay father in the HBO sitcom Dream On.

#DS9 #star trek #garak #julian bashir #garashir #deep space nine #I have things to say about Piller's reading of Bashir #but that's for another post lol

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davieslandon · 4 years ago

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Discord Thread || Harry and Landon

Discord thread featuring: Landon & @theharrykingston

Mentions: @lorencourtier @romanbeckett @aaronhart93

When: July 1st

Description: Landon tells Harry that Loren broke up with him.

Trigger Warnings: breakup talk, sad Landon

Harry

Harry hadn't actually realised that a few days had gone by. That wasn't because he was disassociating, or had been lost down some rabbit hole of the past. He'd actually been writing... For the first time in months, he had a real muse and a real desire to write. Harry was so overdue to publish the next book in his series, he was giving George R.R. Martin a run for his money. But, over the course of a few days he was almost done with the first draft, ready for the editing houses. There was just... One thing he wanted to do before he sent it off. During the time that they had been together, Harry had always had Landon read his drafts. He really respected the thoughts and insight the other man gave, and now that they were back in each others' lives... He just thought that maybe it might... Put some common ground back between them... As friends, of course. Harry had sent a few texts, but after a couple hours with no response, not even a read sign, Harry got worried. He called and Uber and rode across town to his house... Their house... Knocking on the door, he waited patiently for the answer. "Hey-- I-- I texted you and I-I got no response, I just th-thought I'd come and check in... Is everything okay?"

Landon

Landon wasn’t sure how he managed to get from Loren’s place all the way to his own. He drove, that he knew for sure, but he couldn’t actually remember the journey. How could he when all he could think about was Loren saying he didn’t think Landon really loved him. That this wasn’t working out and it was better if they ended things now. Landon really thought he finally found someone understanding that he could love and move on from all the drama. How stupid of him. He paid the babysitter as soon as he got back and somehow kept his composure for long enough to put Elle to bed but, as soon as he was alone, he was done. Landon collapsed onto the couch and took heaving breaths, trying to keep his sobs in but it wasn’t working. Soon enough he was crying, trying his best to keep it down so as not to wake up Elle. The part thing he was expecting was a knock on the door and he had half the mind to ignore it but...what if it was something important? So he wiped his face to his best of his ability and opened the door, coming face to face with Harry. “Oh, hey. I wasn’t expecting you today”, he said, trying to muster up a smile. “Everything’s fine. My phone’s just out of battery so I put it on charge. Thanks for checking in though.”

Harry

Harry knew as soon as his eyes set onto Landon that he was not okay. Even after the space that was put between them from him, even after all these years... Harry knew exactly what Landon looked like after he'd been crying. What he looked like when he was hurt. He could feel his own heart hurting. "Landon..." He said softly as the other tried to smile and pretend. "I-- You never were very good at l-lying," Harry gave a small half smile as he sighed and lifted his brows a little. "I came t-to make s-sure Elle was okay but... I don't want t-to leave knowing you're not..."

Landon

Landon should have known Harry would see right through his lie but he couldn’t even bring himself to care right now. He was too hurt and tired to keep up the act and he shrugged, avoiding his ex-husband’s eyes. Moving to the side, he let Harry walk in and led the way to the living room. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have next to the front door. Once they were both sitting down, Landon tried to think of the best way to say it but in the end decided to go with the truth. “Loren broke up with me.”

Harry

Harry walked into the house and closed the door after him, slipping his shoes off and handing his coat up before following Lan through into the living room. He got a really strong sense of home whenever he was in this house, especially now that, for the most part, he and Landon were actually getting along. It had been a rough month of constant fighting and bickering but... Perhaps they really could do this. Harry didn't say anything when they sat down, he knew that Landon was just trying to find the right words and of course Harry would give him the time to do that. If anyone knew what not being about to get your thoughts out was like, it was Harry. What he didn't expect was what came, though... Harry's heart sunk. Had he been glad that Landon was dating again? No... But, had he been glad that he was happy? Of course, more than anything. "Landon I--" he sighed heavily, looking to Landon just to make sure he wasn't completely closing down before gently just placing an arm around his shoulders. He knew that if Landon wanted more, if he needed a hug, he'd turn into him. "I'm really s-sorry, Lan... I really am..."

Landon

Landon wasn’t sure what else he could say. He thought things were going well between them and instead it was the other way round. This wasn’t something that he saw coming and it made everything so much worse. How was he supposed to look Harry in the eyes after he argued with him over the same guy who broke up with him so unexpectedly? Landon even wanted to introduce him to Elle. How stupid could he be? Maybe he wasn’t as good of a dad as he liked to think he was. “It’s fine, I should have expected it really”, he smiled bitterly. “Why does everyone I love leave?” He turned to Harry, desperately looking for an answer that he was probably not going to get.

Harry

Harry couldn’t help but be glad that they had never introduced Elle to Loren. He had absolutely no right to think that considering everything he’s done to his own daughter, but still... He couldn’t help but allow the thought to cross his mind. Harry would never say that out loud though, he wanted to support his ex husband, not put him down even more. Being such an empath, Harry didn’t think that he could feel anymore of Landons pain than he already was... But then he went and said that. Harry’s heart dropped to his stomach, tugged down by tons of weight. “I—“ He really had no response. “I’m sorry...” Harry said gently before pulling Landon into a hug properly. “*Im so s-sorry, Landon...” He muttered gently as he closed his eyes to stop himself from crying. “I promise you it— it’s not you... You’re... You’re the best person I-I have ever met, Landon...”

Landon

Landon knew that Harry couldn’t give him an answer to his question, no one could. But he wasn’t thinking clearly so when his ex-husband looked like he didn’t know what to say...it crushed Landon. He let himself be pulled into a hug, squeezing Harry tightly almost as a way of grounding himself. “If it’s not me then why? Everyone leaves. I’m barely even talking to Roman and Aaron, you left...now Loren...I can’t. I c-can’t do this anymore.”

Harry

As Landon gave into the hug and squeezed him as if his life was depending on it, Harry just held him closer and tighter, one hand on the back of his head. “R-Roman and Aaron haven’t left, L... a-and I— I’m sorry I left. But— i— I’m back... For you, for Elle... I’m not going anywhere a-again, okay?” He sniffled and took a shaky breath. “I promise Landon... I’m not leaving... Youre not alone...”

Landon

Landon felt so alone. Just when he was slowly starting to get over the hurt of Harry leaving, this happened. He was in a good place, thinking that he could finally be somewhat happy with Harry back to help him raise Elle and Loren by his side. It’s true that Harry was gone for four years but he was here now and they could work on moving forward. Maybe he could stop fearing his ex-husband leaving again. All his fears were back and doubled now that his boyfriend, the person he was falling in love with and went all the way to France for, broke up with him. He wanted to believe Harry and his promise but he was just...done. He was done being played. “O-okay...yeah. I’m sorry.” Sorry for their fight in the park over someone who wasn’t even going to stay, sorry for not answering his texts and worrying him, sorry for breaking down...Landon wasn’t sure what he was really apologizing for.

Harry

Harry wanted to find a way to contact this guy, to give him a piece of his mind however hypocritical that may seem. He was by no means a violent person, in fact, Harry had never hit anyone or anything in his life before but seeing Landon hurting like this... It boiled his blood. Then there was the fight inside him, the little voice telling him that this was how Landon was when he left, when he broke his heart... If Harry hadn't already had that defining moment that made him realise he wasn't going anywhere, this would have been it too. Sure, they had probably burnt all of their bridges when it came to a relationship but... Harry wanted to be here for Landon too. As... Whatever it was Landon needed. "You have nothing to be s-sorry for..." He said, trying to be as stern as he could so that message got across to his ex-husband. "None of th-this is your fault," Harry hugged him tightly, sighing gently. "It's gonna be okay, Landon..."

Landon

In a way, this all seemed like a repetition of everything that happened with Harry when he left four years ago, even though not to the same extent. He and Loren weren't married or raising a child together and they hadn't been together as long as he and Harry had been, but the similarities were still there. Landon still felt rejected, hurt and abandoned. He thought what they had was...important. Although now he realised how stupid he was being to think like that for someone he'd been with for such a short time. That was the problem with Landon. It took him a while to be convinced in giving things a try with someone, but once he did he was all in. No more. He couldn't get hurt again, he just couldn't take it anymore. "I guess I know that in a way but I just feel so stupid crying over someone who left me because I didn't love him enough." Landon wanted to believe Harry's words, he really did, but history showed him otherwise. He didn't want to worry his ex-husband more than he probably already was so he just nodded, trying to calm himself down. 'Yeah, yeah, you're right."

Harry

Seeing Landon like this... It brought every memory flooding back to Harry, everything from the last few months of their marriage, everything from the cabin, from seeing him again at Throuple, everything Aaron had said to him. It was almost overwhelming. It made him want to stand up and bolt out the door, afraid of confronting and seeing pain he's caused. But, Aaron was wrong. Aaron was wrong, he wasn't going to run away as soon as it got hard. This was hard. But he needed to stay, needed to prove to himself that he could, and to Landon that he would... Slowly, he pulled away from the hug, but stayed close, hip to hip. "You'll find-- s-someone," Harry said, his voice soft and quiet. Carefully, reading Landon's eyes in case he was overstepping, Harry lifting his hands which were shaking a little, and wiped Landon's cheeks and under his eyes clear of tears. "You are more th-than enough, I-- I wouldn't want t-to raise a child with anyone else... Even under our circums-stances now..." He sighed gently, raising his brows softly. "He's an idiot for letting you th-through his fingers... A-And leaving you behind... Just like I was..."

Landon

Landon scoffed at the mention of finding someone else and shook his head. "No thanks. I think I'm done with dating and serious relationships. I've given it a good try and ended miserable every single time so now I'm done." He knew he was probably sounding really dramatic but Landon was being very serious. He couldn't go through this again, he just couldn't. All his walls were up and they weren't likely to come back down any time soon. Love could go fuck itself because it brought him nothing but pain. Landon smiled at Harry's words about raising Elle together. Through all of this, the only thing that made him feel a little better was the knowledge that Loren's exit from his life wasn't going to affect his daughter in any way. It crushed him but as long as it was just him, he would live through it. He didn't want to imagine what he would have felt if he had to tell Elle that someone she'd gotten close to because of him was leaving and never coming back. Harry talking about them raising Elle together reminded him of one of the last conversations he had with Loren where his boyfriend...ex-boyfriend....asked him if he would ever want more children. How did they go from that to break up? "He asked me, you know. At the wedding reception. He asked me if I would ever want to have more kids...with you."

Harry

A lot of people might have rolled their eyes at Landon's statement. They might have passed it off, saying that he was just being dramatic in the moment and give it a couple days, his thoughts on the matter would be different. But, Harry knew Landon. Even with the 4 years they had missed from each others lives, he knew Landon. There was a deadly seriousness behind that sentence, especially behind those last two words. I'm Done. Harry knew that feeling... To a certain extent, he still did. Even with Dorian... Harry was a pessimistic person, he didn't expect it to last. He didn't expect Dorian to stick around through all his lows. Everything came, and everything goes. Those were the two absolutes of living. Harry was almost certain he'd had his shot at happiness... He missed. There was nothing to be done about it. "If you do... If you don't-- th-that's okay..." Harry ran his thumb over Landon's cheek before bringing his hands back down and putting an arm behind Landon again, just in case... Just in case the other needed another hug. Though, what he said surprised him and there was no way to hide that kind of shock. "What a-- s-strange question for him t-to ask," he blinked a few times before furrowing his eyebrows and looking to him. "What did you s-say?"

Landon

Maybe Landon would change his mind once the wound wasn't so fresh any more but he didn't think that was likely. How many times who could he open himself up to someone only to have it thrown back in his face? It wasn't fair. But he didn't want to say that out loud because he knew it would make him sound like a whining four year old. And he wasn't. He was a twenty eight year old father to the most amazing little girl he had ever met. That was what he needed to focus on whenever he felt like everything was getting to be too much, which it often did. "I didn't think anything of it at the time...honestly I just saw it as a way of taking an interest in a future together? But, once again, that was very stupid of me", he sighed. "What do you think I said? I said no. I mean, can you imagine us having more kids other than Elle in the situation we're in?"

Harry

Harry felt himself sighing at almost the same time as he ex-husband. He didn't know what to say to make him feel better, he didn't know whether Landon wanted him to stay, even if they just ordered food and watched TV in peace and quiet, just having company... Was that weird? Did ex-husbands usually do this? Harry supposed you couldn't really compare them to anyone else, because he'd certainly never heard of anything or anyone in a situation remotely like theirs... That was kind of a blessing and a curse. It meant they got to make up their own rules, but it also meant there was no playbook to go off, no base ground to build on. "No... But--" Harry glanced down at his feet for a moment as he collected some thoughts going around his head. "I-- I think if... which I-I don't think I ever will.. But I th-think if I ever did have kids with s-someone else... I'd-- I'd want you to be in their lives too... A Godfather kinda?" He tried to explain how no matter what, he wanted Landon to be a part of his life. It was far too late to honour his 'for better or for worse' vow but... He wanted to at least respect it. Harry sighed and then decided that he would have a go at perhaps changing the topic so they didn't go around in circles or start arguing. He reached down and unclipped his satchel and took out the manuscript of his book and then placed it in Landon's lap. "That's-- that's for you... You don't-- you don't have to read it, I-I understand if you don't... But-- you always had t-the first copy..." He smiled softly.

Landon

Landon wasn't sure how they ended up talking about potentially having other children, especially since he was always so adamant that he didn't want to have more kids for the time being. He wanted to focus on Elle and enjoy the last few years of his twenties before even thinking of having more children. Yet it was nice to get the opportunity to discuss it. During his conversations with Aaron and Alison about the possibility of them having another child, he sometimes thought about more children of his own. His biggest worry was always how it would affect Elle, having a sibling that did not have Harry as a dad. Obviously he still wanted Harry to be a part of Elle's life but would it be awkward for his ex-husband if Landon ever did end up having more kids? It was something that actually worried him and one of the reasons why he didn't want to think about more kids at the time being. He didn't want to ruin the hesitant truce they had going on. But with the way Harry was talking, maybe they wouldn't have to. "Maybe...that could be nice, I guess." It was weird for him to think of them having more kids other than Elle on their own but he knew it was something that could happen in the future. He doubted it could ever be a possibility for them together. With Harry now seeing Dorian and him on an indefinite break from relationships, they were clearly both on very different paths. Landon wasn't expecting the manuscript he was given from Harry. "Are you serious?" It was true that he was always the one to get the first copy but he wasn't sure if that was an honour that still fell to him with everything that happened between them. It made a rush of affection to run through him and he pulled Harry in for another hug. "Than you", he whispered. "Of course I'm going to read it and I already know I'm going to love it."

Harry

Harry had no idea where his life was heading anymore, and for the first time that wasn't because he'd given up on it completely. His friendship with Dorian was slowly progressing into something else, and whilst they hadn't had a conversation about anything official, whilst they were still finding their feet and navigating those waters... Harry found himself actively looking forward, wondering what was next. Of course, there were times where Harry was sure that he was reading too much into their kiss at the wedding, or the dinner they had a few days after. But... There was some hope in there, and that was huge for Harry. Talking about kids though with Landon... Being with him like this... It confused him... Harry still loved Landon, that much was true. He wasn't sure he'd ever stop loving Landon, even if he and Dorian did officially get together... "Of course I'm s-serious..." Harry chuckled quietly, not expecting the sudden hug from his ex-husband. Still, he wrapped his arms around him willingly and smiled. "The-- the first copy will always be yours... and Elle's-- when s-she's old enough for them..." He sighed softly as they withdrew from the hug, catching Landon's eyes for just a few moments. There were so many little reminders of what used to be in those eyes, in the way they looked at each other. What they had was still there, underneath all the new and heavy baggage called divorce... Why did he have to leave? "Did you eat t-today?"

Landon

Getting the first copy of Harry’s manuscript filled him with hope that he desperately needed right now. Hope that the more time went by and the more they talked things out, the less arguments they would have. Maybe the first few were necessary to get a few things off their chests but Landon didn’t really want them to keep screaming at each other every time they tried to have a serious conversation. They were both adults and they needed to start behaving as such. When they broke apart from the hug, their eyes caught on each other’s for a few seconds and Landon felt frozen. It was moments like these that he allowed himself to think of what could have been. What would have happened if Harry never left? If Landon wasn’t in that accident? Sometimes he liked to think that they would still be happily married, but other times the thought of it got too painful. Maybe they weren’t meant to work together and their marriage would have ended anyways. Or maybe not. Thinking about what if’s was useless and painful because the past wasn’t going to change, no matter how much they willed it to. And so that’s why Landon was the first one to break eye contact, mentally shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Not really. I haven’t really been in the best mood to cook. Honestly I was just focused on getting Elle to bed once I got home and then...yeah.”

Harry

Harry hadn’t finished a book in four years. He had spent everyday hidden away, writing, but nothing ever finished itself. Nothing ever clicked, there was no life in his writings. But now... Now his family was back together, now they weren’t fighting, now his daughter filled his life with so much light... He had that muse again. The manuscript he had just given Landon was one that would make or break the rest of his career as a writer. Often, unless an author came back with something groundbreaking, once they disappeared from the thoughts of publishers, they were gone forever. Harry had one shot at coming back... He wanted Landon to be the one to read his shot first. It was due to him that he finished it... It was only right, and no matter what happened between them from here on out, Landon would always be the first. Harry sighed gently as Landon said he hadn’t eaten, softly, the writer squeezed his ex-husbands knee before bringing his hands back to himself, sliding one into a pocket and taking out his phone. “Let me order you s-some food... I’ll, er, st-stay until it gets here then— if you want s-space I’ll leave you to it...” Harry said softly, raising his brows pleadingly at Landon.

Landon

There hadn’t been a single book written by Harry that Landon didn’t love. His ex-husband had a way of writing that somehow always made him feel like he was in another world while reading. And so he knew, without even having read it, that this new book was going to be amazing. He didn’t say that to Harry, knowing that the other boy wouldn’t appreciate his words before he even got to read it. “Fine, I guess I can do that”, he shrugged. In reality, Landon didn’t think he could stomach any food but he didn’t want to worry the other more than he probably already was. His ex-husband did so much for him already, he didn’t deserve to worry over Landon’s broken heart as well.

Harry

Harry smiles gently, even if there was a lot of sadness and worry behind it. He felt so guilty right now, guilty for how he had caused this before, how he had caused this now... If he’d never left, then Landon would have never starting seeing Loren, never would have been in this mess... He knew it was almost pathetic to put blame on himself, but that was just who Harry was as a person. He wore his heart on his sleeve and he took everything on board. “Thank you...” He said softly before ordering what he knew was Landon’s favourite meal he could get this side of the ocean. Then, Harry reached for the TV remote and switched it on, finding a channel with something easy watching... Brooklyn Nine Nine would do for now... Light hearted humour, sound down low so as not to wake Elle or hurt anyone’s tired head. He let out a gentle sigh as he relaxed into the couch, trying not to flick his eyes from the TV to look at Landon because he knew if he did, he’d end up staring.

Landon

If there was one thing Landon could call himself an expert on, it was knowing how to read most of Harry’s expressions and this never changed, even with their separation. So he knew that his attempt not to worry his ex-husband wasn’t working very well but he couldn’t do much more. Landon considered himself lucky that at least he wasn’t crying anymore, but anything more than that was impossible at the moment. He watched as Harry ordered sushi, smiling at how much he still knew him. Maybe his favourite take out could make him feel slightly better. Landon leant back and tried to enjoy the peaceful moment of watching a nice comedy on tv but instead found himself fighting to keep his eyes open. The craziness of the day seemed to finally be catching up on him and he figured there was nothing wrong with resting his eyes, just for a few seconds. He should have known that would lead to dozing off.

Harry

Harry felt at ease, in his old home, the place where it all started all those years ago. When he had come here last month to meet Elle again for the first time, he didn’t know if he’d ever not be able to see all the pain that had happened in this house... But now? Now he just felt... Easy. It felt, well, it was home. Harry heard Landon’s breathing slow and become heavier, and he thought about waking him, but decided against it, instead just scooting a little closer so his shoulder could catch Landon’s head as he dropped off into a doze. With a gentle smile, Harry took his eyes off the television and looked down at his ex-husband, the man who still had so much of his heart... He had to fight the urge to kiss his hair even though it was burning inside of him. Harry didn’t really know how much time he spent watching Landon sleeping, all he knew was that watching him felt... So simple. The Uber Eats driver text him to say he was waiting at the end of the drive and gently, Harry slipped out from the couch and picked up the food, quietly bringing it inside and setting Landon’s on a table near him. He went to wake him, but didn’t want to disturb some needed rest, so he opened his own sushi and began eating, glancing between Landon and the TV.

Landon

Landon wasn’t sure what happened. One second he was looking at the tv and thinking about how at least he was feeling a little better, and the next he was startling awake, looking around him in confusion. “Wha- oh”, he said, as soon as he saw Harry eating from his box of sushi. His attempt to rest his eyes had clearly turned into a mini nap. “Sorry about that. It’s been a long day and I guess that took a toll on me”, he said, tiredly rubbing his eyes. He leaned over and grabbed his own box of sushi. “Thanks for taking care of everything.”

Harry

Harry jumped a little as Landon suddenly woke up as if he'd been jolted by something. "Hey," he chuckled gently before giving him a moment to just adjust back to the room. "Don't apologise for d-d-dozing off in your own place," Harry offered a small smile as he gestured to Landon's food on the table. "You're welcome," he said before taking another mouthful of sushi before sighing softly. "I-- I know i-it probably st-still sounds hard to believe at th-the moment but, um... I'm here," he nodded his head a little as he spoke. "Whenever you need it-- A-Always..." Harry gave his ex-husband a little smile, his eyebrows knitted together for a moment. "Whether it's t-taking care of Elle or just... You..." He swallowed a little before snapping his gaze to the TV.

Landon

Landon knew Harry was trying to help and he knew that he had people in his life who cared and would only want what’s best for him but some part of him still felt so alone. This was a bad hit and he wasn’t sure he would be able to get over it any time soon, especially since he still felt like there were things left unsaid between him and Loren. With him leaving, Landon doubted they would get the chance to talk about it again and it made everything feel so much worse. For now, the pain was too much for him to feel anything other than shit but Landon could tell that the pain would eventually make way for anger over the way things ended. He just needed to hold on until then and he knew that Harry was speaking the truth. They might not be together anymore but Landon knew he could count on his ex-husband to be there when he needed him, whether it was for help with Elle or anything else. “Thank you. I know I can count on you and...I think you’ve proven yourself more than enough in the past few weeks.”Message #chapter-one

#discord #c: harry #m: loren #m: roman #m: aaron

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brightly-painted-canvas · 5 years ago

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for the series ‘fic I think about all the time but I’ll never be able write’, I’m honoured to present you:

Band of Brothers’s High School Football (and I mean soccer!) Team AU

featuring:

- the team’s name is Currahee Easy of Toccoa High School (I don’t make the rules... I mean yes I do, but you know...) and they’re basically shit at playing football/soccer - it’s not that they don’t have good individual players or don’t train hard enough, it’s that their coach, PE teacher Sobel, doesn’t know shit about tactics and theory and he’s just too much of a dick to admit it - so the team trains hard everyday under every weather condition, but they still suck in championship games - (it’s by then a well known thing in Toccoa High School) - except this year is senior year for a big chunk of the team and most of them really really want to win at least one game before parting ways and going to college - so some of them basically mutiny against Sobel and go beg Principal Sink for a new coach - (he’s easily convinced after he sees the disgraceful row of defeats the team managed to string in the past three years) (it’s disgusting) - he calls in his office the other PE teacher, Richard Winters (who’s in fact already the coach of the baseball team) and gives Winters the responsibility of coaching the football team as well - thing is: right until that moment Dick Winters knows nothing about football, but he’s not a bitch about it so he buys a lot of books and watches a lot of youtube videos and drags his best-friend-and-maybe-also-more Lewis Nixon (history teacher at Toccoa) to a bunch of games to study - he’s a good student because when he meets the team for the first time and they try some of the tactics out, they seem to work - (he goes with basic 4-4-2 formation but his full backs are fast and both his side midfielders can shift to the attack on the occasion) - so the championship starts and the boys are for once both physically and tactically ready (mentally not so much, but hey can you blame a rowdy team of 20 teenagers?)

- so the team is composed like this: - D. Hoobler as the keeper (2nd keeper: D. Webster, although everyone is secretly glad he never plays because last time he did he was reading books during the game when the ball was on the other side of the field... at least on the bench he can read as much as he wants and pretend to be too precious and literate to play sports) - “Buck” Compton and “Bull” Randleman as center backs (reserves: “Tab” Talbert and “Pat” Christenson) - “Babe” Heffron and Frank Perconte as full backs (reserves: “Popeye” Wynn and A. Blithe) - center midfielders: Joe Liebgott and Johnny Martin (reserve: D. Malarkey) - side midfielders: “Shifty” Powers and “Skip” Muck (reserve: A. Penkala) - forwards: Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye (reserves: “Chuck” Grant and P. O’Keefe) - coach: R. Winters; coach’s alcoholic husband: L. Nixon; 2nd coach: C. Lipton; manager: H. Welsh; assistant and medic: “Doc” Roe; referee: R. Speirs - (everyone is scared of the local referee as there are numerous rumors circulating about him, like the one that says he once stabbed a protesting player in the eye with the red card) - Toccoa also has a student radio broadcast and the designated sportcaster is George Luz, so he also follows the team in away games (and having him around helps with the team’s morale) - the first match is a draw, which is neither a good or a bad thing, but Winters is still kinda proud of the guys and buys ice cream for all of them and says inspirational things like “the best is yet to come” - the second match is a whole struggle against the defending champions of the previous year, which makes the opposite team’s players a bit too arrogant and which causes yellow cards to fly around - to the surprise of absolutely nobody Liebgott is the first to get a red card and gets sent out. To the surprise of everybody except his teammates, he’s double booked because he picks a fight not with the opposite team but with his own (specifically: Guarnere asking for more forward passes and Webster, still on the bench, for seemingly no reason at all). Luz announces that it’s probably the first time in the history of football that this happens (yay for a new embarrassing record for Currahee Easy!) - Easy loses in the last minutes after a struggle to maintain the 0 - 0 and Lipton has to intervene before the whole team riots against the referee (not Speirs this time) who also gives a penalty to the opposite team in recovery time. It ends 2 - 0 for the defenders and in the brawl that follows the three final whistles Heffron loses a shoe, Toye gets a bloody nose and Liebgott sneaks out from the locker room just to throw a few punches - they win the third match. The opposite team never shows up at Toccoa High School so it’s a forfeit win - (rumors say the opponents didn’t want to attend not because they were scared of Easy, but because they were scared of Speirs, the designated referee for the game) - after the sixth match they start to win for their own merits and everyone is ecstatic. The whole school gets involved (all thanks to Luz’s enthusiastic commentaries and sport-related news) and there’s suddenly an high attendance of audience at their games - some of them even gets fans, like some guy starting to admire Guarnere’s technique and some girl suddenly making banners for Christenson or even Webster (though that must be less for athletic merits and more for aesthetic reasons, much to all the other player’s displeasure)(and Liebgott’s absolute rage, though no one gets exactly why)(c’mon guys...) - they manage to end the championship at an average position in the chart and with enough points to access a row of head to head games - the last match of the season is one of those direct clashes and becomes very important not only because it’s the last match ever for the senior students, but also because winning would mean getting an access to summer play-off - everyone is super nervous - coach Winters makes another one of his nice motivational speeches which leaves almost everyone near-tears (even the tough ones)(and especially Lew, who still gets free access to the locker room despite not being directly involved with the team) - things turn bad real soon real fast because during the first half within minutes both Guarnere and Toye get a leg injury and need to be substituted by Grant and, to the whole team’s horror and desperation, sweet innocent O’Keefe - Doc Roe gets helped by Lip and Welsh to get Bill and Joe out of the pitch and most of all to placate their rage and frustration (my poor boys...) - despite the injuries and early substitutions, Shifty manages to score an outside the box stunning volley for the 1 - 0 that makes everyone in the audience literally freaks out - the opponents equalize right at the end of first half with a goal following a contested free kick right outside Easy’s penalty area - the second half ends on a draw despite the team’s best efforts in maintaining their shape and positions as well as their nerves (and everyone is extremely proud of them, but most of all surprised by Liebgott)(considering he’s not even being supervised by Martin, who had been substituted by Malark at some point) - after the first extra time Dick is already thinking about the penalties: to the sudden shock of everyone present at the game (and the delight of his hardcore fangirls), Hoob gets substituted with Webster - (all of Easy, as one man, think they’re doomed) - the penalties are a matter of even more nerves and sweat and tears, but the five kickers get chosen (Grant, Buck, Skip, Heffron and Shifty) and after that, everything is in their preferred foot (and in Web’s hands) - Web saves the first penalty and the whole school gasps in disbelief - (while Dick and Lip share a knowing smile on the bench) - Grant scores, Buck scores, Skip’s shot unfortunately gets saved and they’re back to equality - no one speaks (Luz included!), no one even blinks - Babe manages to score a stunning lob penalty that has the whole field freaking out again - (Bill from the bench points at him and screams: ‘That’s my boy!’ jumping on his uninjured leg) - Shifty scores with cynical precision (and Winters almost sobs out loud) - as Webster takes his position between the posts, silence falls again all around the pitch and tension is so thick it feels like it could be cut with a knife - right before the opponents fifth kicker positions the ball on the penalty spot, everyone takes a deep breath and holds it for seemingly endless minutes - Webster saves - everyone screams - chaos is everywhere - Lieb kisses Web on the mouth - someone cries - (probably Web’s fangirls) - (and also mama!Lip since he’s so proud of his boys) - after that everything is a blur of celebrations and tears and hugs and also other less celebrated kisses (but Babe gets one from Doc and Dick gets several ones from Lew and, to be fair, no one is really that surprised) - Luz loses his voice at some point and completely forgets being on air on the school’s radio as he runs down to the field to celebrate with the team (which results in long minutes of radio silence he’d be scolded for the next day)(and, for what is worth, he does not give a single fuck) - Easy chases coach Winters across the field and lift him in the air to celebrate, then they do the same for Lip and Welsh and (surprisingly?) Nixon - (Doc Roe refuses and hides behind Babe and Bill and everyone loves him too much to force him anyway) - more chaos ensues and rumors say the celebrations went on for weeks - (also some rumors say referee Speirs took part to the celebrations as 2nd coach Lipton’s date, but no one present ever confirmed or denied that) ...and that’s basically it. Sorry for any mistake: I typed this all in one go and my football terminology is strictly Italian-based (just as much as my football enthusiasm lol) so I may have got something wrong. Thanks a bunch to my sister @gaiayukari85 for having helped with the plot (as often happens when we create silly stories)

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ineffablewordsatnight · 6 years ago

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The emperor`s pet (Loki x Reader) Chapter 2

Hey guys, I am so happy, that so many of you liked the first chapter of this fic, so thank you for this positive feedback:) Anyways, here is chapter 2, there is not that much action in it, but it works as a kind of prelude for what is about to come. I hope you enjoy it as much as the first. Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

If you want to be added on the tag list, just text me and I will gladly add you.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Cound: 3287

Warnings: None, just fluff

You woke up from the dreamless state of your mind with a startled yelp. A short feeling of disorientation flooded through your veins and as you shot up, you felt dizzy. You had absolutely no idea, how much time had passed, since Loki had put you out. Groaning, you sank back onto the comfortable and smooth bed. You laid on your back and stared at the bright ceiling. You were seated in a white room with three massive walls and one golden holographic one. A cell. Probably sealed with magic. You were imprisoned in a fucking cell, Gods know where. You sighted and examined your “room” further. The bed you were currently lying on was a simple one, just a thin mattress, black cotton sheets, a soft green blanked and a matching cushion.

You tried to rise again from the bed, carefully this time and no sick feeling took you over. You carefully examined your whole body and checked if you were hurt anywhere. You didn´t seemed to be harmed, besides the headache caused by your earlier encounter with the coffee table. The blood was dry, but there was a faint throbbing right behind your temple. You huffed out in annoyance.

Great. A Headache, exactly what I need now.

Deciding to take care of your head later, you took some shaky steps forwards to have a better look at your surroundings. You looked at the golden wall and carefully tried to touch it. As your hand came in touch with the softly glowing wall, you nearly expected that it would cause you pain like an electric fence, but nothing happened. You could easily touch it and it felt smooth underneath your fingertips. Looking outside your cell, you couldn´t identify anything else besides a dark hallway and an empty cell right across from yours. You turned around again and faced the remaining furniture. On the opposite wall of your bed, there was a huge bookshelf. It spread across the whole right wall and was stuffed with all kinds of books. You stalked closer and pulled some of them out to read the titles.

Jane Austen, Shakespeare, George R.R. Martin, Tolstoi, Fitzgerald, so mostly classics. You thought, while pulling out some of the even older, heavy and leather-bound books.

Oh, norse mythology, funny.

You scoffed, placing the book back. Next to the bookshelf was a big, comfy looking armchair with a blue blanket spread across it. You let yourself flop down on it, lazily dangling your legs and looking around.

Boring, I´m not even five minutes awake and I´m already bored.

You thought as your gaze fell upon a wooden dresser with three drawers. Your interest was piqued and you swiftly jumped to your feet and made your way over to the other side. You opened the top drawer and glimpsed inside. You found some black and grey T-shirts mixed with some rather colourful ones.

Clothes? Why would he put clothes in here, if you´re his prisoner?

Irritation swept through your mind as you opened the two other ones firmly, just to discover some matching pants, hoodies and even underwear.

Shaking your head, you closed the drawer with a loud thud.

Strange.

After spinning around one more time, just to discover, that there was nothing more to be observed or discovered, you dropped to the floor and laid flat down. You stretched your arms over your head and slowly massaged your throbbing temple to work against the building headache.

As you laid there, you realized what just happened and anxiety rushed through your veins as the cold facts hit you. Loki had kidnapped you. Loki. The God of Mischief and Lies.

What you didn´t get were his motives. If he wanted to stop the Avengers from working against him, he could have just killed them or if he wanted to have some ´fun´ with them, he could have imprisoned them all here. But he didn´t. He just took you in and that was odd. He didn´t seemed to hold a grunge against you. In fact, it seemed like he just spontaneously took you with him as some kind of price or safe insurance, maybe even as a trophy to indicate his victory over the celebrated team of heroes. But what was he going to do to you? And how long shall you stay in this prison? You couldn´t find the answer to all these questions and maybe you didn´t even want to know.

Deciding, that there wasn´t much to do for you, reading wasn´t an option, because your headache had become worse and the slight throbbing had turned into a constant pounding, you closed your eyes and concentrated on the cold surface beneath you.

P.O.V. Shift to Loki, after he knocked you out

“Goodnight Princess.”

Loki swished with his hand in front of the girl´s face and her bright eyes dropped as did her body, but before she could hit the ground, he caught her small form.

Gently hoisting her up, so he carried her bridal style, he turned to the rest of her team. Banner was still unconsciousness thanks to a little bit help of his magic, but while Loki had been busy staring at the girl, Tony had had enough time to get up and call is Iron Man suit and as the norse god turned around, he was faced with two blasts of pure energy directed at his slender form.

Quickly, he jumped to the left and escaped the attack with a swift, but graceful movement. Spinning around, he snapped his fingers and the arms of the man in the iron suit were glued to his torso. Tony struggled and tried to move again, but he wasn´t able to get his arms free. With another hasty movement of Loki´s hand, the engineer was yet again sent across the room, against the wall, but this time, Loki´s magic held him there, trapping him in his own suit.

The rest of the team, still glued to the ground, sent him yet another glare.

“What the hell Loki?” Clint exclaimed. “What are you doing? And what are you doing with her?”

Loki turned his hardened gaze to the archer.

“I can do, whatever I want.” He said, ignoring his second question and taking a step towards the spot, where Clint and Natasha were sealed to the ground. “And you can´t stop me. Besides that, how would you do this? You can´t even move a muscle right now.”

He grinned evilly, taking another step in their direction.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Natasha spoke up. “We get it. You are powerful and all mighty, we are just earthlings with no power, who stand no chance against you. Been there. Done that. Now…”, she lifted an eyebrow at him, “could you just let our friend go and get the hell out of here?”

Her voice dropped to a pleading tone. “We won´t interfere with your plans anymore, ok? Promise” She even smiled at him, well tried.

The god of mischief looked at her, eyes unreadable throughout her whole little speech.

“You won´t interfere with my doings?” He asked and Natasha nodded.

She gave him a serious, but pleading look and Loki seemed to think about her ´offer´ for a moment, but then he threw his head back into his neck and let out a lout roar of laughter.

“Do you really think, I am that stupid? Do you really think, I would believe you?”

His head snapped back and his cold stare bored into them.

“I am the god of lies. I can tell exactly when you are telling the truth or not and right now you reek of lies.” He scoffed at her.

Natasha flinched back as much as she could with her body still being stuck on the floor, as if he had slapped her. His aura had turned even colder and also darker during this statement and his whole stature screamed danger. His eyes were glinting with sadistic playfulness and it seemed like all humanity was drained from them.

“N…No.” She stammered, intimidated by his sudden change of demeanour. Everything before this statement, even the fight was just like a prelude, like a play to scare them away, a promise for what was about to come, but the real trouble, the real danger had just shown now, at this moment and it scared all of them.

“I really, really mean it, right guys?” She asked, turning around to her team mates as best as she could. Steve pressed his lips tightly together, but even he was shocked by the god´s sudden change of personality, so he just shortly nodded. Clint mimicked his gesture and even Tony let out a muffled “yes”.

“See? We all do agree on this.”

Loki just stood there, in complete silence, watching the defenceless team of so called super heroes begging him to spare their lives, making promises to save their own skins.

He tilted his head slightly and decided to push this play a little further.

“If you say so…” He slowly stated.

“Yes, we do.” Steve interrupted with new found spirit. “Now, if you just put (y/n) down and let us be, we won´t cause any trouble.”

“(y/n)” Loki murmured. So that´s her name. Pretty.

“And why should I do that?” He asked out louder.

Steve´s face fell and was replaced by an angry grimace.

“Because she hasn´t done anything to you, why would you torture her?”

“Who says anything about torturing her? I just want to take her with me as…” He paused for a moment, pretending to think about it. “As encouragement for you to keep your promise of doing nothing.”

A Cheshire cat like grin spread across his face and he pulled the unconsciousness girl even closer to his chest as to demonstrate that he won´t let go of her, no matter what.

“You can´t do that!” Clint roared upset.

“You don´t need any bargain against us, if you are so powerful as you claim to be, you can easily restrain us, even without taking her.” Natasha added, trying to sound reasonable, but a small tremble in her voice gave her away. She was scared. Scared what he´d do to her friend, if he took her with him.

And Loki saw that. He saw it and relished in the feeling of having control over all of them so easily.

“Ahhh, I don´t think it would be that easy. Besides, I want to be sure, that you don´t plan anything behind my back and where would be the fun if I couldn´t put some pressure on you by putting someone’s life in a little danger?” Their painful expressions added even more fuel to the fire of excitement and superiority that he felt at that moment, but he knew, that he couldn´t keep playing with them like that forever.

“So, as much as I´d love to stay here and see the hope shatter on your faces, I have to go. I have two realms to rule and that is quite the work, I dare to say.”

He started to back away and suddenly the Avengers weren´t held by his magic and able to move.

“Don´t forget the deal. Don´t do anything stupid. If you act against me, I will punish (y/n) for that.”

He gave them one last smirk.

“Goodbye.”

And just like that he disappeared, just as they started to charge at him again.

P.O.V. Reader

You still laid there on the cold ground, feeling the floor beneath you, as you suddenly felt a presence next to your side. Slowly you opened your heavy eyes and turned your head to the right. You were faced with a pair of sparkling emerald green eyes, which looked at you with curiosity.

Startled, you tried to rob away, but you couldn´t get far, because your bed blocked your rapid movements. You inwardly cursed and let your eyes defeated trail back to his.

He had watched your sudden actions quietly and was now looking at you with one eyebrow lifted to create a perfect arch.

“Why are you lying on the floor?” Curiosity and amusement mixed with his questioning tone.

“Why are you lying next to me?” You shot back, trying to sound as defensive as possible.

“I was bored and wanted to see, if my newest toy is awake.”

You gaped at him.

What did he just call you? And in such a casual way. That bastard.

You shuffled slightly around and maneuvered yourself in a sitting position.

“I´m not your toy.” You exclaimed, trying to sound as annoyed, but simultaneously as convincing as possible.

He raised his eyebrows at you again.

“I don´t think that you are in the position to decide what you are for me and what not, Midgardian.”

He spoke the last word with such a disgusted undertone, that you really felt rather worthless for a short moment, as if he was right and you were wrong.

No. Stop. He kidnapped you. He tries to get into your head. Stay strong. Don´t let your anxiety get the best out of you.

You stayed silent, not really knowing what to say and not really trusting your voice at this point.

Loki huffed.

“No, really”, now he sounded rather annoyed, “why aren´t you reading or lying in your bed or sitting on this mighty comfy chair? You noticed that there is a rather big bookshelf right next to you, right?”

You couldn´t believe, that he just sounded pissed, because you, his prisoner, here against your own will, wasn´t enjoying herself in this prison.

You snapped.

“Oh, excuse me, that I didn´t appreciate the furniture and all your lovely gifts, but my head is trying to kill me. Thanks to you, if I might add.”

You crossed your arms before your chest and let out a huff.

He can´t be serious.

For one second there was only silence and then…

Small waves of laughter started to erupt from the god´s mouth. He couldn´t help himself and let out a louder chuckle.

You glared at him.

“Excuse me, why is this so funny?” Now you sounded even more pissed.

“I am sorry, it´s just…” He tried to regain his posture.

“Nothing, it´s nothing.” He said.

Was he wiping away a tear?

You huffed again, turning away from him.

“But I can help with that headache, if you want.” He stated.

You slowly spun around to him, a curious look on your face as if to ask why he would offer to help you. You examined his features. He had an honest and rather confident look on his face and it didn´t seem like he was joking. Still, you remained sceptical and on guard.

He seemed to pick up on your thoughts and rolled his eyes.

“Well, I can´t let you suffer all the time, can I?”

He then proceeded to lean forward and lightly touched your head again.

You had a feeling of déjà vu, because his fingers grazed your temple as careful and soft as before he knocked you out cold earlier.

A small voice in your head whispered, that maybe he would do just that again, but you quickly shut it down and concentrated on the movements of his fingers.

He traced a light patter right above your wound and the spot, where the pain was the worst. You couldn´t identify if he was drawing runes or just a random patter, that came into his mind. Yet you could see some green sparks of his magic flying around and then…nothing…the pain was gone.

You sighted happily, as the thrumming of your head was no longer violating your thoughts. You opened your eyes, not remembering when you had closed them, and were faced again with the slender features of the norse god. You swore that those eyes would be your nemesis, you felt again like you were drowning. Drowning in the best way possible.

As quickly as that thought crossed your mind, you shoved it back down into the abyss of your mind, where it seemed to come from.

A sly grin flashed across his face.

“Better?” He asked with a pleased and self-confident expression.

“Yes.” You nearly whispered. You cleared your throat, not liking how your voice sounded, so small and timid. “Thank you.”

He shot you a smile. An actual smile and you couldn´t help yourself, but smiled back softly.

Suddenly breaking out of this dream like state, you mustered him again with a more calculating stare.

“Still, you haven´t explained yourself. What am I doing here? Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

You stared at him with fury in your eyes and tried to emphasize the words as much as possible to get him to an honest answer.

Loki just chuckled slightly.

“That´s quite the change of attitude, pet.” He replied.

You flushed in a deep shade of crimson.

“Stop calling me that.” You snapped.

“Alright, pumpkin.”

“Shut up.” You sounded annoyed. “And answer my questions.”

He still got this shit-eating grin on his lips, but now it turned into a growl.

“As you wish, princess. Right now, you and I are doing nothing, we are just sitting on the floor and talk. As to why you are here, that is pretty simple. You are the one thing that keeps your precious Avengers under my control. They won´t do anything to corrupt me, if I threaten to break your smooth little neck. Which leads us to your third question. I don´t want anything from you, you are just here to keep me safe.”

You were left speechless.

This is what it´s all about. I am his fucking health insurance.

“And I am supposed to sit here, in this prison, for how long now?”

“Well, either until I end those rebellious heroes or till they decide to join me, I personally prefer the latter, but who am I to decide.”

He shrugged his shoulders and got to his feet.

“Now, if you excuse me. I just wanted to stop by, to see, if everything is alright with you. As I have seen now, it is and I have to go back to business.”

He turned around and started to leave towards the golden holographic wall.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, not wanting him to leave you alone with so many questions.

You hastily scrambled to your feet. That didn´t do anything good for your head, even with the headache gone, you still felt a little bit dizzy.

The room began to spin around you and you felt face forwards towards the god.

Loki jumped a little bit in surprise, but was able to turn around smoothly and catch you, before you could harm yourself further.

“Easy there, kitten.”

“Not your kitten.” You mumbled

He chuckled and lifted you up from the ground to carry you over to the bed.

Gently laying you down on it, he made sure that your head rested comfortably on the cushion and that your whole body was covered with the blanket.

That was…nice. Loki, being nice? How comes that?

Your head started to form thoughts, but they were quickly dissembled and an overpowering tiredness blended out every other emotion you had.

You felt his presence still next to you and felt the urge to say something, anything, but all that left your mouth was a senseless mumble.

You heard him chuckle again, it sounded like it was far, far away.

What a nice sound. You thought.

Shut up. You immediately answered your thoughts.

Whatever.

You were too tired to continue this internal discussion for now and you slowly let the darkness pull you under.

P.O.V. Loki

He watched her drift into sleep again, after directly passing out on him.

What shall I do with you?

Taglist:

@starscreamloki

@emyhonny

#loki x reader #reader insert #marvel #avengers #loki #loki fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki (marvel)#loki odinson #loki fanfic

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