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kiruuuuu · 5 years ago

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Smoke/Mute oneshot in which two nerds fall for each other. Also, as usual, part of it devolves into utter chaos :) (Rating T, fluff fluff fluff + humour, ~9k words) - written for my kindness war with @nutbrain 💖💖 Take that! I do hope you enjoy it and I hope you also know how much I adore you. Please never change 💗

Mute raises an unimpressed brow. When Sledge told him he was about to meet their ‘chemistry whiz’ who apparently matched Mute’s own penchant for anything science, he’d pictured something…

Well, not something like this. Not an aged goon too short for the t-shirt he’s wearing (yet filling out the sleeves nicely nonetheless), not someone folded onto his chair like an ape, and certainly not someone with a haircut better suited for the military than a lab. He’s an odd mix of latent energy, smug grin and laziness, and Mute immediately decides not to like this show-off.

He’s always been picky and so far it’s served him well – while other friend groups publicly fought out private issues, complained about betrayal, miscommunication, ignorance, Mute sat in his corner with his one or maybe two friends and simply watched. Focusing on his own success, he’s always fared better than if he tried to get along with those around him, and the results don’t lie: mid-20s, and he’s just been recruited into one of the world’s best special forces. He works well enough in a team and is aware his superiors can’t demand more than that, even if Aurelia expressed the wish for him to socialise more than he’s used to. Her right-hand man briefly tried to bond with Mute over their shared heritage but backed off as soon as he earned a carefully blank stare. He knows more than he lets on, Six does as well, but for now they’re leaving Mute be.

Going by his gut feeling, trusting his first impression has rarely failed him, and so he fells his judgement while the hoodie-clad thug in front of him greets him cheerfully. “How ya, nice to meet you, I’m told you can backseat engineer a tad and help me with my project. Been a right bastard recently, innit?”

Mute blinks. Self-centred, he writes on his mental list, outgoing – the horror! –, big mouth, carefree. None of the bullet points make him want to spend more time in this guy’s presence than necessary. It doesn’t help that it’s entirely unclear who or what has been a right bastard, whether it’s the project, the dude, maybe Mute himself, who knows? He sounds like one of Mute’s former classmates who dropped out to sell weed and graffiti abandoned stations at night. “Yes”, he replies hesitantly to buy time. “So… what is it you’re working on?”

In an entirely misguided attempt at getting Mute settled in at the base, Sledge has spent most of the day sending him back and forth between operators with increasingly mundane tasks which Mute identified much too late as intended conversation starters which usually resulted in two lines of awkward small talk and a task done mostly in silence. He nearly refused to step anywhere near this last SAS member but when Sledge mentioned the magical word science, Mute’s interest was piqued. Seems like this will be just another disappointment, however, because this schoolyard bully surely isn’t -

“A Lewisite derivative less prone to hydrolysis and ideally as long-lasting as Adamsite while being less identifiable. I don’t want those bloody terrorists shooting up on dimercaprol immediately to counter the effects.”

Well. Mute briefly considers whether he’s merely saying this to be funny, maybe learnt it by heart to impress a few birds in the pub, but when he spots the emblem of arsole on this guy’s jacket like the crest of a prestigious school, he realises that he’s dead serious. “You realise that’s illegal as fuck?”

This earns him a bright smile. “Yep!”

“So you want to poison a whole group of people”, Mute clarifies, just to be sure.

“Lethally poison them to death until they die”, the man confirms with an amused nod and again, it takes Mute a moment to register he’s not being facetious.

He throws a glance at the chicken scratch notes spread out on the table separating them. They look chaotic yet detailed, and most of all they look like a challenge. “What did you say your name was?”, he wants to know distractedly and almost misses the lazy grin spreading on the guy’s face.

~*~

Mute still doesn’t like him. Contrary to how often they hang out, Smoke certainly ranks nowhere near his favourite people to spend time with which might seem unfair but he’s just – annoying, really, won’t stop bragging or talking too loudly, keeps taking and using Mute’s stuff without asking and is much too handsy for his tastes. He never properly learnt personal boundaries and is forthcoming to the point of rudeness, at least in Mute’s opinion, but for some reason gets along well enough with most of the other operators. It baffles Mute how easily he navigates social situations, does so without a care in the world and, while Smoke gets yelled at often enough, he also gets what he wants a surprising amount. Mute was brought up to be reasonably polite, withdrawn, not a bother, and Smoke is… the opposite. He goes out and declares for everyone to hear, so someone is bound to listen. It’s enviable, in a way.

But no, Mute’s personal ideals resonate much more closely with Glaz’, and Twitch’s, and Rook’s, and together they form an alliance of loyalty and trust and meet up just to be themselves. It’s a relief not to worry about what comes out of his mouth and even more of a relief to realise he’s actually found friends in Rainbow. He doesn’t consider Smoke a friend, not really, more of a necessary evil which just won’t go away and so he’s developed coping mechanisms.

This, too, sounds harsh in his head. He has to admit there are moments when he genuinely enjoys Smoke’s company.

“Why are you so quiet, lad? Cat got your tongue?”

Compared to Thatcher, Smoke is an angel. As awe-inspiring and competent as the SAS legend is, he seems to take personal offence to Mute mostly keeping to himself and has set out to coax the social chameleon, the starry-eyed, hopeful young man out of Mute who’s been dreaming of being a part of the whole his entire life yet was too awkward to figure out how. Little does he know that under Mute’s taciturnity hides an even more misanthropic nerd who’d be happy surrounded by nothing but technology for the rest of his life. Not all who talk little have little to say, but not all who talk little secretly want to star in High School Musical.

“Mike, you must’ve spent the first twenty years of your life in silence”, Smoke pipes up from where he’s lounging on one of the other tables in the workshop, letting one of his legs dangle and playing a freemium game on his phone, “because with how you dither on, you sound like you’ve something to catch up on, now that you’ve one foot in the grave.”

Mute has to admit: he’s excellent nuisance repellent. He hides a grin as Thatcher’s attention shifts. “I certainly would spend twenty years in silence if it meant you’d have to shut up yourself.”

“Gladly, if it’d make you stop molesting the youngins. I saw you chase Manu around yesterday, she should really get a restriction order.”

“All I wanted was to help her calibrate her gun -”

“She’s bloody GIGN, granda, she was born with a Magnum in her tiny baby hands. And whatever you do, she’ll never calibrate your gun.”

Despite knowing Thatcher genuinely only wants to help, Mute leaves the two to their usual banter, content in not being a part of it: they both seem to enjoy their bickering and it’s best not to make himself a target. Besides, Smoke thoroughly relishes being insulted, if his and Mute’s early interactions are anything to go by. Smoke called him young, Mute replied with ‘as young as you wish you were’ and since then, he’s been a puppy following him around with a delighted expression, fawning over every harsh comment directed at him.

“Oi, babe”, Smoke addresses him and Mute wishes he’d mind the nickname, yet whenever he remembers the other ones which were in the running, he can’t. “You think Mike here hates molecules whose atoms are all in covalent bonds?”

The question comes so out of thin air that Mute needs a second to process it. “I – what? Why?”

“Because they’re unionised.”

Mute stares at him for a bit longer before it clicks – it’s Thatcher and he means the other pronunciation of unionised and dear Lord, the joke is fucking atrocious, it’s impressive how awful it is, and before he knows it, his sides start hurting. Air eludes him as he does a silent laugh which hurts and Smoke has never looked this stupidly proud before. Not even after he made Glaz throw up by shovelling vanilla pudding out of a mayonnaise glass into his own mouth.

“What”, says Thatcher, looking completely unamused. “Are you laughing at me?”

Gasping, Mute shakes his head and waves him off, and Smoke is still grinning triumphantly. “Copper carbon potassium”, he mutters and sets Mute off once more because only he would call someone who massively outranks him a cuck and hey, that gives Mute an idea. While the two continue barking at each other, he pulls up the periodic table on his phone and starts putting things together.

Seconds before the two actually come to blows – and Smoke would have the advantage, Mute has seen him in the ring and he does not mess around –, he announces: “Fluorine argon thallium iodine carbon potassium erbium.”

Watching Smoke repeat it in his head and translate it feels like waiting for a firecracker to go off, and he’s not disappointed when it does and the other man dissolves into full-bellied laughter which nearly throws him off the table.

“What does that mean?!” Thatcher is getting more and more agitated.

“He called you a fartlicker”, Smoke chortles and Mute doesn’t even get to defend himself, explain that it wasn’t at all aimed at Thatcher, before the very same rolls his eyes and simply storms off.

“I didn’t mean him”, Mute complains and crosses his arms when Smoke saunters over to plant his arse on his table instead.

“Oh, I know, but now he’ll be pissed for a week and leave you alone.”

“I’ll apologise.”

“Are you nuts? Don’t feed into his ego. Vain bastard.”

Mute scoffs. “Says you.”

And oh, the surprised face he earns is entirely warranted. He doesn’t suppose anyone looks at Smoke closely enough to notice him glancing in the mirror a lot, or that his mismatched and ill-fitting clothes are carefully chosen and that he takes pride in his appearance. He certainly makes sure his muscles show at least. “Yes, well”, Smoke murmurs, having lost the thread of their conversation and idly running his hand through his short hair. “Oh, speaking of – I should have this cut.”

“Don’t. I like your hair.”

Smoke shoots him another astonished glance and pets his semblance of a hairstyle. Mute does like it more now that it’s grown out a bit, and he bets Smoke could look cute with it even longer. “You really should stop catering to people’s egos, they might get used to it.”

“Trust me, I’ll be the first one to mercilessly argue you into the ground, should the situation call for it.” It wouldn’t be the first time either, not after Smoke claimed drinking through a straw not only made you more drunk but also faster, that alcohol is a good way to stave off the cold and that people eat five spiders in their sleep each year. At this point, he’s half suspecting Smoke of digging up misconceptions purely so he can witness Mute tearing them apart.

“Now let me check whether you can spell ‘turdsniffer’ with the periodic table.” He takes a seat next to Mute and together, they try to come up with the best insult they can. Mute is extremely happy with CoCKBaSiN, Smoke proudly presents BUMnOsEr, and by the time they land on AmErICaN SnOBScAm, both of them are having trouble breathing.

“If everything else fails, we can always call people C4H4AsH”, Smoke concludes and points at his jacket. “A good old-fashioned arsole.”

Of course. Mute is beginning to wonder whether he ever washes this particular piece of clothing. “And no one will be the wiser.”

“Except for us. Because we have such good chemistry.”

“Alright. You can stop now.”

“If we were a laser, we’d be set on stunning.”

“James.”

“Is it getting hot in here or is this just our bond forming?”

Mute corrects himself mentally: there is no way in hell this idiot could ever be cute. “Why do I even talk to you.”

“No idea”, Smoke retorts cheerily. “But I’m glad you do.”

~*~

Unsurprisingly, he needs a little help from those who know him better than he does. They’re having lunch together, Rook in his everlasting hunger went out voluntarily to buy them fancy sandwiches and is still complaining about the place being out of baguettes whereas Twitch happily wolfs down her ciabatta without a peep, and then Glaz says mid-munch: “We’re having a spa day on Sunday. Has Julien asked you already?”

“Can’t, I’m setting skips on fire”, Mute shrugs and grins at Twitch’s horrified expression. “Not literally. But we have some hypotheses to check and usually, it ends up with us burning our notes because everything went arseways.”

“Arseways”, Rook repeats quietly to himself and Mute is relieved none of them know enough about English and Irish dialects to notice just how much slang he’s picked up from Smoke along the way. He’s made the mistake of greeting Montagne with an automatic ‘how are you’ before and ended up with intimate knowledge of the man’s health-related problems.

“You can always ask Jordan for help, just mention the setting on fire part and he’s in”, Twitch suggests reasonably and for a second, Mute actually considers it. He doesn’t mind Thermite, the man is sociable enough to fill silences before they turn awkward and perceptive enough to leave Mute alone when he needs it. Still, he was looking forward to a weekend of loud music, a few drinks and greasy takeout which he allows himself so rarely, with no space for anyone else. And while his friends’ plan of just chilling probably would drain the tension out of him just as effectively, he’s not going to ditch Smoke after he already agreed.

“You’re seeing James a lot recently”, Glaz comments in between bites.

Is he? More than he used to, Mute supposes, but it’s gotten better. The bragging has diminished or stopped bothering him so much seeing as Smoke usually includes him in it these days, and they’ve found more common ground – music was a big one, ultimately there’s not much of a leap from hardcore punk to avant-garde metal seeing as they can meet somewhere in the middle, and gaming is another. Even the fact that Smoke only ever wanted to play the games in which he’s better than Mute has subsided. They compromise more, Mute realises: Smoke tests his limits less often and Mute doesn’t judge as much anymore, the verbal pushing and shoving has turned into good-natured playfighting. It’s not about who’s right, it’s about having a good time, and on the rare occasions on which they bring up serious topics, Mute doesn’t get as worked up anymore and Smoke knows when to take a break to sort his thoughts.

“I like him”, he summarises his musings with a nod.

“And I remember the time you called him a copper nitrogen terbium argon”, Rook chimes in.

“Silver. Ag is silver, not argon.”

“I will literally never be able to remember this.”

Another reason why Mute is glad to have Smoke – there are some inside jokes they share which just don’t translate to his real friend group. “He’s much more bearable these days.”

“He’s worn you down”, Twitch corrects him with a smile and he doesn’t object. “Why don’t you ask him if he wants to join? He’s nice enough and he can’t be worse than Jules.”

“Hey!”

“Sure.” Mute shoves the rest of his brie with cranberry into his mouth and gets up to track Smoke down. The words echo in his head: he’s nice enough. There’s a few descriptions he’d deem fitting for the Brit but nice isn’t one of them – above all, he’s opportunistic. If there’s nothing in it for him, he won’t do it, but fortunately ‘entertainment’ has proven to be reliable bait for him, rendering him predictable. Mute likes this. He knows what to expect, knows when Smoke will play along, and also knows he does so willingly. Smoke doesn’t mind being tricked or manipulated into something provided it’s done overtly.

When he finally stumbles over him, he’s not alone: Fuze is talking rapidly at an irritated-looking Thatcher with Smoke at his elbow, and judging by everyone’s body language, it’s a topic which should’ve been cleared a while ago. Meaning it’s about being team captains. Since Fuze can express his displeasure best in his mother tongue, he tends to seek out colleagues who know it well enough, Thatcher unfortunately being one of them – Smoke seems to be his moral support, though he appears less supportive and rather more bored to tears.

Fuze has been a thorn in Glaz’ side for a while, ever since he dropped a comment about Rook which left his younger teammate secretly shaken and uncertain, and Mute has to fight down the urge to provoke the Uzbek whenever he sees him since. He can’t stand anyone messing with his friends, especially not on a topic like this. And with Smoke standing there, hip cocked and expression unguarded, he gets an idea.

“Hi, sweetie”, he mutters quietly enough to be convincing yet loud enough for Fuze to hear and puts an arm around Smoke’s shoulders.

He might be slow on the uptake sometimes, but right now Smoke’s spontaneity triumphs. Making it look natural, his face lights up and he wraps an arm around Mute’s waist, pulling him closer and greeting him with a soft: “Hey, babe.”

Before them, the Uzbek momentarily loses his train of thought before continuing his rant.

And oh yes, if there ever was anyone perfect for this kind of stunt, it’s Smoke. He spends half his time touching Mute already anyway, fixing his clothes, fiddling with his phone (including taking it out of his pocket), feeding him usually questionable things, leaning into him out of laziness, peering over his shoulder while steadying himself on him – the list is endless and has long stopped bothering Mute though he rarely initiates contact himself. Right now, he’s very glad for this familiarity between them.

Seemingly uninterested in the proceedings, Mute pushes a hand into Smoke’s half-long hair and starts petting it. It’s as soft as its glossiness promises but if he’s honest, he wouldn’t have minded one bit if it was coarse or greasy because the face Smoke makes all of a sudden is priceless. He didn’t expect his features to go slack like this, for him to melt into this touch completely, and he has to suppress a chuckle. It seems he’s finally found an off switch. The longer he massages his scalp, runs his fingers through black hair, the more the grip around his torso loosens and the more Smoke sways in place. He looks like he’s got trouble keeping his eyes open and it’s, well, it’s endearing in an unexpected way. And Mute already knows he’ll shamelessly exploit this knowledge in the future.

Still, he hasn’t achieved his goal of pissing off Fuze enough for him to stop hissing at Thatcher, and so he pauses his ministrations to watch in amusement as Smoke returns to this plane of existence very, very slowly. He blinks, shifts his weight and presses his compact body more against Mute’s in the process, and he’s so dazed and adorable that the one thing which most likely will achieve the intended effect doesn’t even seem like such a bad idea anymore.

So Mute leans down and kisses him.

Fuze trails off mid sentence.

It was just a brief touch of lips on lips, but despite his stupefaction, Smoke possessed the presence of mind to tilt his head into it, slide his eyes shut and capture Mute’s lower lip between his own for a second and hey, that’s much better than him shoving his tongue down Mute’s throat as a joke or maybe him slobbering all over Mute because that’s kind of what he was expecting. When it’s just nice instead, he makes no move to hide his smile and straightens back up to catch Fuze’s eye innocently.

And while Smoke’s hand drops lower and starts groping Mute’s butt, the Uzbek’s expression darkens. He spits one last sentence at Thatcher and turns around on his heel to stride away with purpose.

Wordlessly, Thatcher just looks at them.

“What just happened?”, Smoke wants to know meekly, visibly overwhelmed with the situation and Mute could really get used to this.

“Fuze was being a scandium astatine tungsten holmium rhenium”, Mute explains matter-of-factly.

Thatcher shakes his head with a grin. “Little shits”, he murmurs, but to Mute’s ears it sounds grateful. He leaves them to it, still holding on to each other for some reason.

“You wanna take a spa day with us instead of vegetating in the lab this weekend?” He’s gently massaging the base of Smoke’s skull now and notices his eyelashes flutter. Cute. It’s cuter than it has any right to be.

“What, give up gaming till morning for sitting around and talking about feelings?”

Mute snorts. Is that what he thinks they do in their spare time? “I’ll pet your hair if you say yes.”

“… when are you guys meeting up?”

And he can’t help but give Smoke a quick hug while laughing before relaying the details.

~*~

“Mark.” A hand on his shoulder, him curled around a warm body, and a pleasant dream lingering – he’s not at all ready to wake up. “Mark, get up. It’s late.”

He huffs a sigh, hears it echoed from the small creature next to him and stretches before cracking open an eye. Sledge is regarding him with a fond smile, whereas Diana, pressed against him on her side, pretends to be still asleep. The living room is empty save for a myriad of bottles and glasses and oh, that means everyone’s gone already. Sledge has already changed into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, pads around barefoot and tidies a little while Mute sits up on the couch, strokes the corgi lady’s soft fur with one hand and checks his phone with the other. u home yet?, Smoke asks and it’s just like him to remember Mute’s schedule despite being on the other side of the world.

was sharing body heat at Seamus, gonna head back now, he replies and pictures Smoke’s slightly irritated expression. While he’s never had an issue with Glaz, Twitch and Rook, Mute’s newly-developed friendship with Sledge caused frankly amusing uncertainty which surfaces either in territorial aggression or thinly-veiled jealousy. He ignores Mute’s assurances that the Scotsman has a long distance boyfriend somewhere seeing as no one has ever heard him mention him (but Mute knows the signs), and instead tries his best to keep Mute’s attention, unaware that he’s competing with Sledge’s dog more than anything, and that no one could ever surpass the small fluffball.

“How’s James?”, Sledge asks in a tone so natural that Mute wonders when it became so self-evident that he’d know about every detail in Smoke’s life.

“Bored a lot. Now that they’ve cleared out the base they’re just staying in the hopes of catching some stragglers who didn’t get the memo. Unlikely, but Six is right in saying if there’s a chance, they should take it. He’ll probably be back some time next week, or so he hopes.” It’s past three now, so no wonder everyone’s gone already. Since he lives in walking distance, Sledge probably figured he’d let him sleep off all the alcohol he consumed much too fast earlier – without Smoke around, it’s only half as fun, thus Mute drank like he was getting paid for it and must’ve passed out while cuddling with Diana.

His phone buzzes. It’s a singular question mark and Mute can’t help but grin at its passive aggressiveness. found the perfect snuggling partner, he replies and figures there’s no need to be cruel, so he attaches a photo of the corgi now rolled up into a ball.

“Want to take some of Moni’s salad with you?”

Mute perks up at that and trails after the Scotsman into the kitchen. Normally he’d have left straightaway, but he’s got nowhere to be tomorrow since Rook and Twitch want to go clothes shopping and Glaz was prescribed some quality time with the rest of his team, and Smoke is unavailable. They’ve both wrecked their sleep schedules over the past weeks due to time zones, and still there’ll be a period tomorrow when Mute won’t be able to contact him. He’s not looking forward to it. If he asked, Sledge would let him sleep over and probably entertain him the entire day, but it’d be inevitably coupled with a few stern words Mute imagines normal dads to direct at their children, and he’d rather avoid parental guidance. He’s old enough to make his own decisions now. Like taking photos of himself naked and deleting all of them a second later, because no. Just no.

“I can’t believe there’s some left over”, he states to distract himself from what he’d even do with nudes.

“There wasn’t. She set some aside for me earlier because she knew all of you would devour it.” And though Mute knows Sledge is kind and caring, he can’t help but wonder whether he’s feeding him specifically because Twitch snitched about him accidentally skipping meals. He should ask her tomorrow.

what about me?, Smoke wants to know and Mute almost hears his pout in his head. If he’s honest, it’s not even close. Diana is affectionate to a ridiculous degree and has never accidentally elbowed him in the crotch so she’s the clear winner – but he has to admit there was an evening they spent pressed against each other on Glaz’ couch which was uncomfortable until Mute stopped fighting against Smoke and simply put an arm around him to save space, and he barely caught anything happening on screen for the rest of the film because there was also a casual hand resting on his thigh -

“Do you miss him?”

Mute realises he’s been staring at his phone for entirely too long and Sledge is already done putting some of the delicious potato salad into a container for him. His cheeks start heating up but he can’t deny it, so he nods. It’s been a few excruciatingly long weeks and though Smoke’s expressive enough in texts, it’s just not the same.

“Have you told him that?”

And here we go. He rolls his eyes, snatches the salad with a muttered thanks and goes to put on his shoes. she smells better, he types out just to be a brat.

He pauses in the door when Sledge calls his name and expects him to meddle some more, already prepares his defence: Yes he knows, yes he should tell him, but what if he doesn’t reciprocate, and it’s such a commitment, and it’s been a while, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, and what if they don’t want the same thing -

But Sledge just says: “Get home safely. Good night.” He probably figures Mute knows all of which he’d like to say instead.

On the way back, his eyes are glued to the screen once more. They exchange good-natured banter, gossip a little over some of their colleagues’ work ethics, and then go back to complaining about the whole mission which currently separates them so inhumanely.

I sware tho when im back ill spend one day eating one day sleeping and one day gaming

Those are three different, consecutive days I assume?, Mute clarifies. If so, that sounds like a party I’d like to attend.

babe ill invite u to any party esp if its just us two

Mute is beaming. Smoke is probably expecting him to pick his message apart, make a crude joke about parties in his knickers, plan ahead for when he does come back or maybe even switch topics entirely, and on any other night Mute would indeed go for one of these options. But he’s still giddy with a slight buzz, remembering the dog’s warmth and wishing it was Smoke’s instead, that he instead makes an offer. Provides bait, in a way. Gives Smoke a chance.

Do you enjoy spending time with me that much?, he asks.

And though he firmly expects Smoke to laugh it off maybe or just take a while to reply, it’s nearly instant and so open it tugs at his heartstrings. yes, Smoke writes. Nothing else. Mute’s cheeks are starting to hurt. There’s no sarcasm, no dismissal, just a yes and he couldn’t have hoped for a lovelier answer.

That is, until he receives the next message and realises he was wrong, oh so wrong.

iodine lithium potassium uranium, it reads.

And while it’s not perfect and a little awkward, he couldn’t care less because today is the best day of his entire life. He actually tears up a little, scans the words over and over again and ignores their turning blurry, tries to come up with an appropriate reply – it needs to be just as honest, that much is clear, Smoke is taking a leap and Mute needs to make sure he catches him, and that’s when he runs into a lamp post.

It’s a miracle it hasn’t happened sooner, going by how little attention he paid to where he was going, but that doesn’t make it any better. He hits his head on metal, hard, clutches the valuable potato salad with one hand but drops his phone with a loud clatter and a curse. A quick glance establishes that yes, it’s actually broken, pieces having flown off, screen cracked, and still he doesn’t care.

Because Smoke likes him. Likes likes him. And looking back, it was glaringly obvious, wasn’t it? But somewhere among the countless hours they spent together, Mute had convinced himself that a friendship is all it was and that he should feel guilty for the surreptitious glances every time Smoke took off his shirt in his presence, that he shouldn’t mess with their dynamic and maybe Smoke only allowed him to touch his hair and no one else because… well, there was no good reason, now that he thinks about it. It’s remarkably long by now, Smoke hasn’t had it cut once and Mute vaguely remembers complimenting him on it. It suits him. Mute wants to bury both hands in it and hold him still while snogging him silly.

The phone is a goner. Doesn’t even turn on, so he puts it in his pocket, rubs the pounding spot on his forehead reminding him of his obliviousness, and only then realises the problem with this whole situation: he’s got confirmation from Smoke now.

But Smoke doesn’t know about his feelings. He doesn’t know Mute likes him back. And like this, he can’t tell him.

“The fuck?”, Rook slurs drowsily upon opening his door. He’s wearing pastel pyjamas with polar bears.

“I need your phone”, Mute replies, breathing hard from having run all the way. The conversation with Smoke made him go the wrong way yet once he’d oriented himself, it turned out the Frenchman’s flat was closer than anyone else’s, so he’d come here. “It’s an emergency.”

“Is anyone hurt?” He wobbles back into the apartment and emerges again carrying a potentially life-saving device.

“Only James’ pride”, Mute mutters and snatches it out of his hand. Then realises yet another problem. “This is his old number. You don’t have the new one?”

Rook looks ready to fall asleep against the door frame. “Wha? He has a new one?”

“Yeah, he dropped his phone in the sea two weeks ago. Fuck. Do you know who might have it?”

“The hell’s going on, Mark? Is he okay?”

If he wants Rook’s cooperation, he should probably tell the truth. “Yes, but he told me he liked me and I accidentally smashed my phone, so I can’t answer him. He’ll probably go to sleep soon and I don’t want him to think I’m ignoring him. I’d really like to text him. And I know it’s dumb and I probably shouldn’t have woken you up -”

“Call Timur.” Mute hesitates. “I’m serious, call him, he might have it. He won’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mark, you’ve never asked us for help in anything personal. When your jammer went arseways and you were bummed for a week, we had to forcibly drag you out of your flat. Yes, I’m sure. And I’m glad you’re here.” He still can’t bring himself to wake up more of his friends, forcing Rook to take his phone back and call Glaz himself. “Besides, you two are made for each other. Manu is gonna scream my ear off when I tell her.”

He smiles at that. “Do you want some of Moni’s potato salad as thanks?”

“No answer.” Rook hangs up, distractedly glancing at the object Mute is offering him. “Wait, did you say Moni and salad?”

A few minutes later, they’re in Rook’s car, listening to horrifically repetitive pop music and eating salad. “What about Seamus?”, the Frenchman suggests with his mouth full while Mute is busy calling next to everyone on Rook’s friends list.

“You know he’s gonna be the smuggest git. I’d rather avoid all the I-told-you-so.”

“Fair enough. Here we are.” Rook parks the car in the middle of the street and together, they knock on Glaz’ door until it swings inwards to reveal an extremely unhappy Kapkan.

“Oh shit”, says Mute. Apparently quality time implied a sleepover. He hopes they’ve only woken up one of the pack.

“There better be a huge fire somewhere”, the Russian growls.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that”, Rook begins to explain when one by one, the other Spetsnaz flock to the door to stare them down. Glaz, at the back, seems more worried than angry, but everyone else is visibly resentful.

“You know what, forget it, we’ll find someone else”, Mute tries to interject and avoids Fuze’s furious stare, but it’s too late.

“Mark needs to confess to James, but he destroyed his phone and I don’t have the new number. Do any of you have it?” There’s a certain impressive quality to watching Rook, still clad in baby blue bears and physically less imposing than literally every single one of the discontented men before him, calmly ask them for help with such a mundane issue.

As expected, Fuze basically explodes. “What!”, he yells and only narrowly gets stopped by Kapkan and Tachanka before he can lunge at Mute. “You two weren’t even -”

“Have you asked Manu?”, Glaz pipes up from the back, over the raging Uzbek’s shoulder.

“I will skin you! Fucking brats -”

“She’s not answering either, probably set her phone to silent. You think we should stop by?”

“Do you think this is funny? Ridiculing -”

“Worth a try. I’ll tag along.”

Mute ends up with Glaz on his lap in the front, while the three angry Russians occupy the back bench: Fuze is pissed over the Brits taking him for a fool just because they acted flirty whenever he was around, Kapkan is pissed that Fuze is pissed, and Tachanka is pissed over having to sit next to the other two. None of them are wearing any shoes – or shirts, for that matter –, except for Glaz, fortunately. It’s a complete mystery to Mute why they came along, but now he has to deal with aggravated Russian being thrown back and forth behind him.

“What about Seamus?”, Glaz inquires curiously and nearly falls into Rook’s lap at a particularly sharp turn.

“He’d be a smug shite and I don’t wanna deal with that.”

“Fair enough.”

Twitch is clad in pastel pyjamas with a cupcake print. She also seems understandably intimidated over being faced with six guys upon opening her door, three of which disgruntled and rearing for an actual fist fight.

“Mark needs to declare his undying love to James but blew up his phone and now none of us have his new number. Do you?”, Glaz explains the issue so badly that Mute wants to smack him.

“Why are you on their side? They were constantly provoking me!”, Fuze hisses in the background.

“Then it’s your own fucking fault for getting upset about love”, Kapkan snarls back.

Once Twitch is done literally hopping up and down with unbridled joy after having confirmed it three times, she admits: “I don’t have it, no. Didn’t he only give it to you, Mark? Have you asked Seamus?”

“We don’t wanna deal with his smartarse attitude”, Rook explains.

Twitch blinks, uncomprehending. “You can’t be serious.”

She sits perched on Mute’s lap for the drive whereas Fuze is forced to sit on Tachanka's, a fact over which he seems utterly infuriated. A small brawl happens halfway through, with Glaz trying to stay out of it as much as possible, and Tachanka threatening to open the door and dump Fuze’s crusty arse outside, and if Mute is honest, he hasn’t had this much fun in ages. It’s like free entertainment, and though worry nags at him, he knows they’ll eventually be successful.

Sledge is remarkably awake and even a little flustered, even more so when he eyes the crowd on his front lawn. “Is the world ending?”, he asks politely.

“Do you have James’ new number?”, Mute replies with another question and ignores Fuze kicking at his heels before getting dragged away and shoved around a bit by Kapkan.

“What, did you lose your phone after he confessed to you and now you can’t answer him?”

“How does he know everything?”, Rook whispers in Twitch’s direction, awestruck.

“That was a lucky guess”, Mute accuses him, because how.

Sledge pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mark, he told me a month ago that having you would make him both the happiest and the luckiest man on earth.”

Mute gapes at him. In the background, Kapkan snaps: “You hear that shit? That’s fucking cute, you numbskull, and you’re not going to rain on their parade!”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” Sledge’s deadpan tone implies that he’s thoroughly done with both of them – probably hinted heavily, with either of them dismissing him. “Come on in. I don’t have his number, but I know someone who would.”

They file into the house which doesn’t look much different to how Mute left it more than an hour ago, which is odd: the same lights are still on, meaning Sledge didn’t go to sleep, yet the mess is still there. He must’ve been doing something important if it kept him up till now.

“Mike’s known him for a while, so he’s likely to have James’ number”, Sledge announces and starts rifling through drawers. “But he turns off his phone at night and I don’t know where his stupid caravan is parked right now. I wrote it down somewhere.”

Mute spots a closed but running laptop on the coffee table. “Maybe you’ve got it saved on here”, he wonders and just as Sledge chokes out a panicked Mark no, flips it open.

And is faced with a very handsome, very hairy, and most importantly very naked guy on a webcam who seems surprised to see him.

He closes the laptop again. They could’ve heard a pin drop in the following silence.

“Well”, Sledge murmurs, “that, uh, was Adriani- Adriano.”

That answers that question. Mute’s face is burning.

“Tell him we’d like to meet him properly once he’s put some clothes on”, Tachanka speaks up cheerfully.

“Guys, I found more of Moni’s salad in the fridge”, Rook announces with his mouth full just as he enters the room, though he stops dead when all faces turn to him. “What? Did I miss something?”

For some reason, Thatcher looks the least surprised out of all of them to receive a gathering in his abode – or rather in front of it, because his moving temporary home hardly offers enough space to house eight people. It was a relief to take two cars to get here, even if Sledge seems ready to murder someone after chauffeuring three arguing Spetsnaz around.

“This puppy here wants to propose to James but since he melted his phone in the microwave, we need you to tell us exactly where he is so we can fly over”, Tachanka explains even worse than Glaz did previously and Mute just puts his head in his hands.

Thatcher scowls at them. He’s wearing pastel pyjamas with rocket ships on it. “Is this a joke?”

“Do you know James’ new number?”, Sledge takes over with a deep sigh and yanks Fuze aside the moment he tries to elbow Kapkan. Mute is no longer surprised over the fact that the Scotsman feels more like a dad to him than a friend. “I believe it’s time sensitive.”

“I don’t have it”, the old man grumbles, much to everyone’s exasperation, “but I know someone who does. Just a phone call away, come in.”

Easier said than done – one by one, they squeeze into the limited space, with Rook and Twitch climbing up to the bed and letting their feet dangle into Glaz’ field of view, while Fuze and Sledge sit down by the tiny table. The rest stands awkwardly as Thatcher rummages around aimlessly until he finally finds what he’s looking for. Namely his phone.

“That’s where you keep it?!”, Sledge wants to know, aghast. “What if there’s an emergency?”

“Well you’re all here, aren’t you.” Thatcher takes another two minutes to turn it on and by then, Mute has lost all patience.

“Let me do it”, he offers politely and adds silently: for the love of Christ. “Who am I calling?”

“Tze Long. He’s an old friend from Hong Kong, James and I know him from years ago. He’ll know.”

He vaguely remembers hearing the name before, so he navigates to contacts, tries not to look too hard at the notes Thatcher has added to a few of them, like Brunsmeier (public nuisance) and Cowden (good lad) until he lands on Nizan (hide all food). It takes him a few seconds to regain his composure but then he’s finally spotted the name Thatcher mentioned and presses the green button. He doesn’t have to wait long, seeing as it’s currently morning in Asia, but he was not at all prepared for the booming greeting nearly shattering his eardrum.

“Morning, honey, having trouble sleeping again? Want me to read you another bedtime story, hm?”

And though Mute has never met this man in his life, the sultry tone makes it painfully clear there’s absolutely nothing innocent about his offer. Even worse: since Thatcher set his phone’s volume to eleven, literally everyone in the cramped room heard.

Mute has to correct himself: today is one of the worse days of his life.

“Give me that”, Thatcher hisses and snatches the phone out of Mute’s hand. “Listen, I have visitors.”

Since he failed to lower the volume, all present continue to hear both sides of the conversation, whether they want to or not. “Wonderful! I’ve been telling you to get out more, dearie, have more social contact or you’ll end up a bitter old fart.”

“That means you need to behave.”

“I always behave. You know me. I’m extremely obedient.”

The two Frenchies on the bed are shaking with silent laughter whereas Thatcher is getting redder by the second. “All we need is James’ number. Do you have it? We have a youngin here who wants to marry him.”

“Just confess, actually”, Mute chimes in but gets ignored.

“Oh my. Yes, I have it. Do you have something to write?” Sledge holds up his phone with the notes app open as confirmation, and what follows are the longest five minutes of Mute’s life because Thatcher insists on being dictated one digit at a time, repeats it even though everyone can hear the man on the other end of the line clear as day, and then asks Sledge to confirm it. They go through the process twice to be sure and by the end Mute is ready to strangle somebody.

Thatcher thanks his ‘friend’ and hangs up on him mid-sentence, to everyone’s relief, seeing as any sentence that begins with ‘and remember to replace the trousers that we’ can’t end well. And then it’s done. They hold a collective breath as Sledge pulls up the number he just saved and presents his phone to Mute.

He’s almost forgotten why they’re all here, but the serenity of this moment hits him out of the blue – he’s about to make a life-changing decision, yet he’s convinced it’s the right one. He really, really likes Smoke. Absence did make his heart grow fonder, he spent a few sleepless nights reminiscing over all the genuine, heartfelt, entertaining, meaningful moments they shared and realised he feels incomplete knowing he can’t just meet up with him, can’t just take a spontaneous day trip by his side or just laze around at his place. This is one of the things Smoke has learnt: leaving him alone. Not always, but sometimes Mute just needs time for himself, and of all people he didn’t expect pretentious, flashy, loud Smoke to acknowledge it.

He can’t wait to tell him that he feels the same way he does.

“Can you let me through?”, he asks, expecting the others to move out of his way for some privacy, and reads the room much too late. He’s almost furthest from the door, a door three Russians are blocking. Kapkan crosses his arms.

Okay. He gets it. He interrupted their sleep, wasted their time, irritated them to hell and back, and yet they stuck it through. They… kinda deserve to hear this.

Wordlessly, he dials the number and tries not to let his racing heartbeat affect him – anxiousness is crawling up his throat, clogging it, and the fact that he’s doing this in front of eight other people doesn’t fill him with confidence. What if Smoke’s sleeping already, went to bed confused and dejected? What if he’s changed his mind in the meantime? Every beep increases his dread and leaves him more restless than before and he’s not even aware of fidgeting until Sledge reaches out and squeezes his hand reassuringly. He could’ve smooched him for the gesture, just like he could’ve thrown something at Rook for pulling a dumb grimace simultaneously.

And then Smoke answers the call. “Yeah?”, he says, sounding tired yet curious. He hasn’t gotten any sleep all night and it must be morning for him too.

“James? It’s me.” Twitch gestures emphatically and so he switches to loudspeaker, as much as he doesn’t want to. Even Fuze looks invested at this point.

“Oh, how ya babe. What’s the craic?” Now that he knows it’s Mute, he’s much more lively and Mute wants to kiss him so badly it hurts.

“My phone died, I’m really sorry. Or rather – I walked against a street light and smashed it on the floor.”

“Shit. Are you alright? I could tell my messages weren’t coming through, so I figured something happened.”

His concern feels like a warm blanket. Mute is grinning like a lunatic but is long past caring at this point. “Yeah. Well. I’m just calling – I need to tell you something.” Tachanka stands up a little straighter, the smile on Glaz’ face grows and even Thatcher looks almost proud.

“Do you?”

Just like his question earlier, it’s a prompt. And just like Smoke earlier, he won’t leave him hanging. Mute gathers all his courage, looks around the room… and no.

He has a reputation to uphold. He can’t just blurt it out, can’t lay himself bare like they’re expecting him to.

And so he asks: “Are you a carbon sample, James?”

Visible and, on Smoke’s part, audible confusion. “Huh?”

“Because I’d really like to date you.”

Rook puts a hand over his eyes, Fuze continues to frown in ignorance and Kapkan rolls his eyes so hard it must’ve hurt. But somehow, Mute knows that he did exactly the right thing when he hears Smoke’s relieved laughter, undignified chortling conveying just how grateful he must be to hear this. “Babe”, he chuckles in disbelief, “you’re unbelievable.”

And despite the presence of so many other people, this is still only their moment, because it’s only the two of them giggling like idiots. “So”, he begins once their amusement has died down a little, “does that mean we’re -”

“Yes”, Smoke cuts him off. “Hell yes. There’s no way I’m gonna sleep now, I can’t wait to see you.”

“Fucking finally!!”, Kapkan yells and the entire caravan erupts into chaos – there’s cheering, clapping, a few complaints over their behaviour in the past, and Rook and Glaz actually exchange money. Thatcher pats him on the back, Kapkan nearly breaks one of his ribs with a meaningful nudge and Tachanka loudly proclaims his blessing. Mute just laughs, caught in the middle of it all, picturing Smoke’s flabbergasted expression over the sudden commotion and wondering how in the world he’s going to explain the whole situation to him later.

“The hell’s going on”, the phone in Mute’s hand asks and even he doesn’t know.

“I’ll talk to you later, James, love you, bye!” Smiling, he hangs up and switches to text messages, starts outlining the events of the evening while the storm continues to rage on around him.

“Admit it, you coward!”, Kapkan barks, and Twitch calls for a celebration, Sledge mentions he’s tired and would rather go home, Tachanka predictably exposes him with a crude comment about his boyfriend waiting for him, Glaz remarks favourably on Thatcher’s pyjamas, and Thatcher mentions he’s got a few pieces of cake in the fridge for an impromptu party, to which Rook replies with his mouth full that there’s only one piece left, and eventually even Fuze murmurs: “Alright, it was a little cute.”

But Mute only hears half of it because he sent Smoke a heart and received a heart back as well as the follow-up of with how much electricity there is flowing between us we must be a galvanic cell and good Lord, he wasn’t even aware of how fucking doomed he was.

~*~

Smoke is radiant.

He looks good on a bad day, but right now he’s bloody gorgeous – sleeves pulled up to reveal tanned skin, long hair combed back instead of parted according to no logic at all, and eyes gleaming. With every moment that passes, he becomes more and more ethereal, incorporeal, unapproachable, like a piece of art which can’t be touched or else it’d be ruined, like a mirage. They haven’t seen each other for a month so he might as well not be real at all, or maybe all their conversations over the past few days didn’t happen and Mute dreamt of his interest being reciprocated, and if nothing happens in the next second -

Smoke drops his duffel bag, reaches up and pulls him down for a kiss. It’s sweet and impossibly tangible, convinces him that this is really happening and so he prolongs it, relishes the contact of lips on lips. When they part, he’s left light-headed. “I’m back”, Smoke informs him unnecessarily.

“You’re early.” He nods. Both of them are beaming. “You didn’t even go home?”

“I came straight here.”

It’s a little awkward, Mute doesn’t really know how to react other than grinning like a dumbass, but it seems neither of them mind. “You wanna take a shower after the long flight?”

“Wanna join me?” He hesitates and Smoke picks up on it, carries his bag inside and closes the door behind them. “Babe, don’t worry. We’ll go slow. We can just laze around all day, do nothing. I’m just happy to be here.”

Mute is not fully convinced that it’s what he himself actually wants, but he agrees with the sentiment of finding their own pace. “Me too”, he admits quietly and runs his fingers through dark hair. It’s as soft as always, the feeling addicting, just like Smoke’s mouth, and so he kisses him again. They’re both oddly shy, conscious of themselves, and Mute recognises it as uneasy vulnerability. This is uncharted territory for both of them and in order not to overstep any boundaries, they tread carefully. “You look so fucking good”, Mute murmurs in between kisses and smiles when Smoke hums contentedly.

“See, when you say things like that, it’s really hard not to just spread my legs and tell you to go ham”, Smoke mutters, making him snort and interrupt their making out. “But I’ll be a gentleman. I promise.”

He senses there’s more to it than that. “If?”, he prompts expectantly, brows raised.

And Smoke’s smirk is unbearably smug. “If we do it on the table periodically”, he finishes.

They look at each other. He’s so fucking perfect Mute just wants to hold him and never let go.

“We’re going to be insufferable, aren’t we.”

It’s not a question, more of a fatalistic statement, and yet Smoke agrees with a joyous: “God I hope so.”

#rainbow six siege #smoke #mute #smoke/mute #fanfic #oneshot #these two will be the death of me especially when they're this cute #also props to that tumblr post about periodic table based insults #with love from potassium iridium uranium

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missouris-googlehistory · 5 years ago

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A change of hearts | chapter VIII

A/N: I am so sorry I haven't updated this story in so long, I've been dealing with school and depression honestly. Sorry if everything isn't super politically correct I am not European so I am a bit stupid on their political happenings. This isn't meant to be offensive to anyone.

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For a long time things had been going well between Ludwig and Francis. Their relationship blossomed and Germany eventually proposed, with France happily accepting the offer. However they knew there were challenges ahead. The first obstacle was their fellow nations.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT! FRANCE HOW COULD YOU!?" Was the first response exclaimed after Germany formally made the announcement at a world meeting. The other nations were equally as confused and disgruntled with the match. England marched right up to the German, "YOU BRAINWASHED HIM OR SOMETHING DIDN'T YOU!?". Ludwig, offended by such a notion retorted.

"Of course not." In a polite yet stern tone,

"Angleterre that's rude of you to suggest! Even for a connard like you!" Francis stood up to defend his partner.

"OH I'M BEING RUDE FOR TERRORIZING YOU!? THE MAN THAT HELD YOU PRISONER? THE ONE WHO DESTROYED NOT ONLY YOUR COUNTRY BUT COUNTLESS OTHERS!?" Germany immediately left the room, sensing that he wasn't wanted. A fist fight broke out as perusal between the two nations while the others pondered and discussed the proposal.

Italy and Japan had followed Germany to make sure he was ok, the waves of guilt hit him all over again. "Maybe Britain's right, maybe France just pities me...maybe I never deserve a second chance or love at all..." He put his head in his hand.

Italy rubbed his back, "That's not true at all! Everyone deserves love and kindness! Japan and I love you!" Japan nodded in agreement. Prussia who was peering a nearby window saw Germany's sad face.

He banged on the glass. "Who made you cry like a little baby!? That's totally unawesome!"

"Just go away Prussia, I want to be left alone." As he muttered the phrase America popped out of the doorway.

"Yo Germany dude we need a little help in here!"

"Huh?" The Axis trio went back inside to see France and England on the floor while America tried to separate them.

"FRANCE DUDE LET GO YOU'LL KILL THE OLD MAN!"

"YOU DID IT! YOU KILLED HER! I COULD FORGIVE GERMANY A THOUSAND TIMES OVER BUT I WILL NEVER FORGET WHAT YOU DID YOU BASTARD!" England was turning blue in the face,

"That was six hundred years ago you crazy frog!"

"Frankreich! Ludwig wrapped his arms around the Frenchman's waste and pried him off. Arthur finally stood up and recovered, the others starring at the scene. Ludwig was holding Francis and whispering "it's ok" to help calm him.

"Let's go back to the hotel so we can all calm down." The German suggested.

"Why?" England snapped back, "You two can leave the rest of us will continue the meeting."

Ludwig was not one for bragging but Arthur was getting on his nerves, he growled and snapped back, "How are you going to hold a meeting without the two most powerful European nations? You can't talk about the European Union issues anymore since you backed out like eine Muschi!" The room fell silent, Ludwig was not to curse in a formal setting. Arthur stepped back a bit.

"Well at least let us discuss this 'engagement' of yours."

"There's nothing to discuss!"

"We're nations we can't just marry whoever we please!"

"Oh for Gott's sake do you watch T.V? Or do you not own one because you're so old. I've never seen two world leaders have more sexual tension unless you count Churchill and Roosevelt."

To which Arthur and Alfred yelled. "HEY!"

Francis sniffled and looked up at Ludwig. "Allemange it's fine don't worry. Can we just go back? The two of us?"

Ludwig sighed in defeat, "Fine." The two men gathered their things and left the world to decide their fate.

Back at the hotel they tried to relax, Ludwig poured himself a drink. "Why do you always attack England?"

Francis chuckled and laid on the bed. "Because Mon cher, he is a dick."

"And I'm not?"

"Oui but a cute one."

"Ja but why am I more deserving of forgiveness than him?"

"He killed the love of my life. My very soul was crushed. Not to mention all the other dickish things he did. I know he gave me the plague."

"The plague spread everywhere Liebling."

"Oui but he started it."

"Whatever you say." Ludwig took another swig of his drink

Back at the world meeting it seemed more like a riot than anything else.

"I don't see the big deal dudes, being gay is gay. Who cares? I don't."

"It's not a matter of gay or not, at least not in most countries; it's a matter of alliances." England tried to school the American in politics.

"Oh yea cuz you and France are best friends. Who would marry Germany for the sake of an alliance anyway?" Again the room fell silent. Italy almost raised his hand however his brother smacked it down.

"I don't think it's really fair to pick on the guy eh?" Spain retorted. "Germany mentioned it himself, their bosses get along really well. They old the European Union together Si?" On this most everyone could agree. "Heck I was married to Austria for awhile, it wasn't that bad!" To this the Austrian flushed in embarrassment; Hungary twitched ever so slightly. However the room filled with laughter.

"He is still a person and should be treated as such." Belgium spoke up, which was a surprise to many of the nations. "The world needed justice for what he had done and it was served. Most of our people have moved on and don't even remember the war. His punishment was paid. Even if we don't like to think about it he suffers too."

"Belgium...can you really forgive him?" England asked with concern and shock. Poland was still very angry and made it very clear to the rest of the world. Many other countries had done the same. Yet Belgium and France were different.

"At first I really didn't want to. During one of my visits to France's house we shared what had happened to each other...He told me about how he forgave Germany because you should not live with that kind of hatred towards another human in your heart."

"Well France is Catholic, you don't have to share his beliefs Belgium, you're lucky he didn't get you pregnant. You have every right not to forgive him, just like Poland." England tried to rationalize her anger, Poland agreed with him as well as a few other nations.

"Joat but living the rest of my life being angry at my neighbor who I have to see a lot isn't helpful to anyone. Especially me, we aren't humans. We make sacrifices. You and France don't get along well but you still work with each other. Germany still works with Russia after all he's done." Suddenly the energy in the room shifted; It became dark and ominous as everyone turned to the innocent looking nation. "And America." She quickly added and began to retell the story of the Berlin wall and all that Germany and his people had suffered. "We need to lay this to rest; Maybe their marriage is the best answer. Maybe we can all find some kind of happiness in this. We shouldn't deny him happiness when he's grown so much as a person."

"Ja, I agree for once." The focus shifted to Austria. "He isn't the only one to blame, and it isn't like we haven't done bad things to each other before. The Napoleon wars were a mess. England killed Joan of arc, and conquered a lot more of the world than he ever did. Belgium had issues with the Congo, Hungary and I had issues with the Serbians," Though he would never publicly admit he was the cause of the first world war.

"Will their marriage be like most peoples or is it like ours?" Lithuania piped up. "Because they're two guys and we've had arranged negations with two guys before but this isn't for legal reasons, so like...what about the countries who still...don't recognize that stuff?" The focus was again negatively drawn back to Russia and many of the eastern European countries, the Asian nations watched in silence.

"WELL THEN FUCK THEM DUDE AM I RIGHT!?" America very loudly interjected the awkward silence. "We basically said their bosses want some kind of weird alliance thingy so whatever! I say we let them be happy! If Francy-pants likes sausage dude why do we have to tell him what's wrong or right? Like Emma said we're not mortal and unfortunately we all gotta get along whether we like it or not. Yea to us it might feel like it was just yesterday but to the rest of the world it's history, and our pain eventually goes away. I'm not mad at Britain dude for being a giant douche. I got a cool holiday to celebrate! I get to piss him off!"

"WHY YOU-" England was cut off by laughter. No one really dare to go up against the loud mouthed American, at this point not even Russia cared anymore about the German-Franco union. The meeting was quickly adjourned afterwards and everyone went back to the hotel.

Luckily the two were met with love and support, everyone decided to go out and party a little since Germany did announce they were now formally engaged. It was cause for celebration, to forgiveness, happiness and a new beginning for everyone.

Translations:

1. Frankreich: France - German

2. Eine Muschi: A female body part - German

3. Allemagne: Germany - French

4. Mon Cher: My love - French

5. Leibling: Love - German

5. Joat: Yes - Western Flemish

#hetalia #aph #germany #france #fanfics #gerfra #new chapter #update #bringbackhetalia2k19

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lightofraye · 14 days ago

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I spent all day working on this response, since yesterday. I was actually asked by @themoodyestj if she could respond to that ask… because it was very clearly and loudly referring to me. She didn’t have to. It’s her blog. She could’ve deleted and I would have been none the wiser. Or responded regardless. But she wanted to be sure I’d be okay with it. It was a kindness I did not expect.

The anon is clearly referring to my history that I’ve openly spoken about probably since I started my blog. I’m not ashamed of my history of a survivor of abuse and I won’t let an anon make me feel as such.

So what brought on this sudden and savage hate? Only thing I could think of recently was a statement—an opinion—about the J2 wives and who was tokenizing the kids more.

I brought up some moments that had been mentioned by fans who attended Wales Comic Con and cited them. Then an opinion of mine.

I believe that was largely it.

The hate, the vitriol, that has been leveraged against me since I started writing on my speculation of the Ackles marriage, my perspective of what I feel is going on, has been breathtaking since I started in… April? Maybe May?

I’ve received death threats. I’ve endured threats of violence, both in anon asks and publicly on blogs (I have those screenshots too). Worst of all, I’ve had an anon say that I deserve to lose my son (and to paraphrase said anon, “that’s if he’s actually real”).

In response to said anons’ behavior, I took away their anonymity. It was a privilege, not a right. In response, they’ve gone to other blogs in hopes I’d respond. I had done so before and realized that was an error. So I stopped.

I maintained boundaries. I keep to my tiny corner of Tumblr and I write. I share funny things. I came up with cool ideas—my almost daily music choices and Supernatural memes for the days, currently having fun with Supernatural Halloween and 12 Days of Halloween Music. I occasionally share photos. I talk about cats. I make posts about family.

Then my real passion: sharing and educating on abuse, as so many are unaware that they shouldn’t endure such mistreatment in the name of love.

These posts are frequently heavily researched, not using some minor personal blog but legitimate sites on abuse, on psychology, and I’ve taken to citing them in the post itself or at the end with link references.

I don’t pull knowledge out of the ether. I research. That’s my background, that’s my passion, and hell, being a paralegal is largely doing research to back up citations in legal arguments.

It’s why it takes me a while to write posts on it. Because I research. And because it can be painful as I read and reconfirm all the hell I’ve been through was in fact… abuse.

As for the claim of “go do something”… what makes you think I don’t? I’ve made passing mentions of things I’ve done in the past. I was recently summoned to testify to an abuse case. I’ve helped throw out an abuser in my daughter’s life two years ago.

There’s more, but guess what? I’m not here to brag. Bragging is gross. It’s an unnecessary ego stroke. I let my actions speak for themselves.

Sadly… I pity this anon. I pity others like them. How empty their lives must be that they feel threatened by someone writing an opinion, speculation, on a celebrity marriage? Or express a dislike of a headcanon? Or a small time former celebrity? Then attack so viciously that had they said this to me in person with witnesses, I could probably secure a restraining order, bare minimum.

How empty is your life, anon? That you behave like this. That other people have gotten equally rude or worse messages… because we collaborate? That we reblog and laugh or facepalm? That they’ve had to delete and block… because the hate is so vicious and unhinged.

I know there are some who say I made up the abuse for clicks (why? Tumblr isn’t monetized). For attention. For… whatever. That my daughter is in fact imaginary and fake. That I’m a creepy psycho for wanting to see Jensen Ackles as a human being as opposed to a Ken doll.

I could go into detail about the abuse I’ve experienced. It still wouldn’t convince the anons. They want, apparently, to have that hate to feel good about themselves. To feel useful. To give their lives meaning.

I pity anons like this. All they have is their hate—be it against me, against Jared, and yes, even Jensen.

I’ve had people say I’m “too kind”. Even too forgiving. Maybe so… but the opposite is this anon, angry and bitter and hateful.

I’d rather show kindness, love, compassion and yes, knowledge to highlight abuse—because if it can help one person, then I’m happy.

Go in peace, anon. I hope you find it.

To all my readers...

I'm usually not much of a speech person (although I write quite a lot) but today I got this ask:

See, this Anon wasn't addressing me. They were addressing one of my mutuals that they think is me. A mutual who was brave enough to share their story of abuse. A mutual who this Anon felt entitled to harrass, using a very painful period of their live, for the sake of what? Apparently Danneel Ackles. Well, one thing I know for sure. Even if just for the sake of image, Danneel Ackles wouldn't touch this Anon with a ten feet pole. Much less her husband. There is no way this disgusting behaviour is justifiable.

WEAPONIZING ABUSE IS NOT OK.

I know that the normal route of things is to delete and block. Nobody wants to see this ugliness. Some people have closed their Anon asks altogether.

Well, I believe this behavior is shameful and exceeds what I would call delulu behavior. This is evil. This is zero respect for the human condition. And it needs to be called out.

I ask the AAs and Hellers of this Tumblr, do you claim this as yours? Do you condone to this type of behavior? Do you find it justifiable? And to my readers and mutuals, if you are disgusted by this as much as I am, I ask you to reblog with #againstweaponizingabuse and/or #supportingabusevictims. Let's expose this once and for all.

#againstweaponizingabuse #supportingabusevictims #anti fanaticism #anti abuse #lightofraye on abuse

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sad-trash-writing · 6 years ago

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Bite Me, Ch. 13

AO3 Link

Daisy laid still for a few moments after waking up, enjoying the last dredges of sleep while she could. It felt like she had slept through the night, but it still seemed to be dark outside. She considered nuzzling back into the grass and going back to sleep. Her loudly growling stomach seemed to have other plans, though, and she stretched out.

And immediately regretted it.

Every muscle in her body screamed. She was usually sore after a shift but this was another level. This was Crossfit-mixed-with-P90X-mixed-with-Terry-Crews-sitting-on-her-chest-pulling-her-limbs-into-extreme-yoga-positions-for-eight-hours level of pain.

A pitiful squeak slipped out of her throat and she contracted into the fetal position.

“Shh, don’t move. I’ll be right back,” a familiar voice whispered.

Daisy’s eyes shot open and then she remembered she didn’t shift last night.

The reason it was so dark was because she was in Jemma’s bedroom with the blackout curtains drawn. Jemma slipped off the opposite side of the bed that Daisy as curled up on and tiptoed out of the room. Daisy caught a glimpse of Jemma’s backside in short shorts as she closed the door behind herself and the memories of last night flooded back.

Daisy fucked her best friend.

Like…a lot.

Daisy’s memory of last night was foggy, but she still initiated it. Suddenly, Lincoln’s assumption that she was dating Jemma and the seemingly random feelings Daisy had after Jemma bit her made a lot more sense. They weren’t caused by the bite at all.

Daisy had a crush on her best friend.

But they skipped right over the dating part and went straight into sex. Sure, they definitely both enjoyed it at the time, but, well…

What now?

Before Daisy had a chance to properly contemplate that question, Jemma returned. She passed a glass of water and a handful of painkillers to Daisy. Daisy gingerly stretched out a sore arm and took them, grimacing the whole way. Once Daisy had gulped down both, Jemma took the glass from her and set it on the nightstand.

“Alright, roll over.”

“‘Scuse me?” Daisy whined.

“On your stomach,” Jemma clarified and started rearranging pillows on the bed. “It’ll help. I promise.”

Daisy eyed Jemma skeptically, but delicately tried to stretch her limbs out so she could flop onto her stomach. Jemma tucked pillows under Daisy’s chest and hips once she managed to reposition and shuffled onto the bed on her knees.

At this point, Daisy realized she was still 100% naked.

And Jemma was straddling her hips and popping the cap off something.

“Uuuhh, what—“

“Every study I’ve read says that a thorough massage is the best treatment for a werewolf who resisted shifting,” Jemma explained.

Ah. Jemma brushed the hair off the back of Daisy’s neck, started moving her thumbs in slow circles on the sides of her spine, gradually adding more pressure. Her hands were slick with a warm oil that sunk deep into Daisy’s skin and soothed her aching muscles. Daisy sighed in relief and sunk into the plush pillows.

Jemma continued, “Because of the strain of resisting, your muscles are extremely damaged. Luckily, you managed to avoid any major injuries— there have been reports of people breaking tendons or even bones due to the force. Your naturally faster rate of healing and the extra healing component added to this oil should have you feeling right as rain by dinnertime. Maybe a bit longer than your usual recovery time, but still more quickly than the average person—”

She was rambling. Daisy could tell. The rare occasions when Jemma was nervous or uncomfortable, she did anything to fill the silence and find a way to get out of the situation. Daisy noticed Jemma do it a few times when Daisy was hanging out with Lincoln.

Which reminded her…

“—really fortunate, actually. Most attempts to resist result in some level of shifting and an extreme loss of control. Hopefully, Elena and Joey were able to be as sufficiently distracted as you were and there were no injuries last night—“

Daisy flushed. She doubted that they used the same method of ‘distraction’ that Jemma and herself had.

“Jemma,” Daisy interrupted.

“Hm?” Jemma’s hands had trailed down between Daisy’s shoulder blades. Her thumbs continued to work a circular motion along Daisy’s spine, but her fingertips ghosted the edges of Daisy’s breasts and Daisy tried not to squirm.

“In the woods the other night. Before Lincoln…” Daisy trailed off, knowing Jemma would fill in the blank. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”

Jemma’s hands stilled for a moment.

“It-It’s not important.

Daisy frowned. “It didn’t sound not important at the time. In fact, it was important enough that you didn’t want me to interrupt you.”

Jemma snorted a laugh. “That was a bit dramatic, wasn’t it? It can wait. There’s too many things happening right now to worry about it.”

“Or, you know, life is short and we should probably say what we want now.”

“Now who’s being dramatic?” Jemma teased, but her voice was tight.

Daisy gritted her teeth and bucked Jemma off her hips and flipped over. Her muscles screamed in agony, but Daisy ignored the pain and planted herself in front of Jemma.

“Jemma.”

She stared into Jemma’s startled eyes, somewhat wishing she had Jemma’s weird suggestion powers. Jemma’s eyes darted between Daisy’s, looking for a way out of this situation, but Daisy wasn’t giving her one.

“Okay, fine,” Jemma relented. She pushed herself into a sitting position and finally broke eye contact. “I wanted to tell you….that I had feelings for you. Romantic feelings.”

“Oh. I—“

“—But it doesn’t matter. Like I said, there’s too much happening right now to worry about feelings,” Jemma interrupted.

“So…last night…?”

“Last night was a fluke. Just a trick of the moon.”

Daisy had to check to make sure Jemma hadn’t physically stabbed her in the chest, because it felt like she had. Daisy barely sorted out her feelings, only to have them immediately shut down.

Jemma continued to ramble. “I mean…I didn’t want to— well, obviously, I did want to…but with you and Lincoln— and now he’s dead— I shouldn’t—“

“Wait, what does Lincoln—“

An insistent knocked rapped on Jemma’s door, ending all conversation. Daisy was half-inclined to ignore it, but then the knock became an endless pounding.

“Daisy?! Are you in there?” Elena’s voice echoed through the door between thuds.

“I’ll get it,” Jemma muttered, sliding off the bed before Daisy could stop her. Daisy jumped off to follow, but realized she was still naked. Not like Elena hadn’t seen her naked before, but she should probably get dressed anyway. Daisy wobbled to her feet, stretching out her tight muscles as slipped into the living room to find her clothes.

“—Daisy in there?” Elena asked.

“Yes, she just woke up—“

“Oh, thank God. We checked her apartment and she hadn’t come back yet. We were worried something happened last night.”

“Nothing happened. Last night was fine.”

Daisy tugged on her pants and struggled to untangle her shirt as she heard the door creak open further and footsteps coming towards her.

“It’s hard enough dealing with changing when you’re new, much less resisting changing, but—“

Daisy barely managed to tug her shirt over herself before Elena stepped into the living room and surveyed the scene. Burnt out candles on every surface, the couch cushioned askew, Daisy’s bra (that she hadn’t managed to find in time) under the coffee table. Elena cocked an eyebrow while Daisy coughed out an awkward greeting.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Elena smirked. “Whenever you’re done, we need to talk. It’s important.”

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Jemma insisted. “In fact, I was just about to head out and pick up some things.”

Daisy snatched up the last of her things and turned to Jemma, but she had already disappeared into the kitchen. She huffed and followed Elena into the hallway.

“Didn’t picture Jemma to be one for post-coital pillow talk anyway, but that seemed a bit…frigid,” Elena remarked, once the door closed behind Daisy. Joey was waiting in the hall and leaned up against the wall. He pushed off to join them, as they headed down the hall and Daisy noticed he was limping slightly and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Pulled a muscle last night…or twelve,” he said with a wince.

Daisy grimaced sympathetically. “Last night was…a bit unexpected for me. And I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding between Jemma and I about what my relationship with Lincoln was.”

“Ah,” Elena said understandingly.

“Anyway.” Daisy shrugged off the still-fresh stabbing sensation in her chest. “What was so urgent that you had to track me down?”

“The Watchdogs are having a rally later this afternoon,” Joey replied, “We figured we could start working on our plan and then scope out some intel on them later.”

“Then let’s get to work.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After many frustrating hours of everyone throwing out ideas to take down the Watchdogs (all of which ending in “and then they shoot us”), the pack gave up and headed down to the rally. They pulled on hats and sunglasses to keep the Watchdogs from potentially recognizing them later and lurked near the back.

The crowds had grown. Why, Daisy didn’t know. She even recognized a few normal humans in the crowd that she had seen hanging out with Erebus students and it broke her heart. Maybe everyone was intrigued because the Watchdogs’ greasy spokesman kept loudly bragging about killing a werewolf. Daisy felt her hackles rise and she had to restrain Elena who lunged forward snarling. Daisy had to remind her (and herself) that publicly eviscerating one of the Watchdogs would probably not be good for their cause.

After awhile, Daisy had to block out the crap the man with the megaphone was spewing and focused on surveying the crowd and the gathered Watchdogs on the platform. Most of the cowards were wearing masks, had silver bullets hanging around their necks, and were dressed in some level of camouflage. They smartly left their weapons at home for this. Even the main campus wasn’t dumb enough to allow those on campus.

It took awhile of listening to the response from the crowd for Daisy to notice something:

The crowd was jeering. They weren’t there in support.

Most stayed quiet until the speaker was confident that everyone was on his side. Around the fifth time time the speaker gloated about ‘ridding the world of one of the foul beasts’ a man screamed out.

“Where’s the proof?”

A ripple went through the crowd, but they silently waited for a reply.

The Watchdogs in masks glanced at each other while the one with the megaphone floundered.

“The…the proof was stolen! Hidden from us by the administration. They don’t want us to show you—it would ruin their illusion of— we performed a great service and have not had any thanks—“

The crowd called out in response to his ramblings.

“Liar!”

“Delusional!”

The man tried to speak again, but was drowned out by the crowd, either calling them crazy or intolerant. The ones Daisy recognized were angrily defending their friends.

Daisy smirked and she felt a flutter of happiness in her chest. People were on their side.

Another one of the Watchdog leaders jogged up the steps of the platform and whispered in the speaker’s ear. Even from the very back of the crowd, Daisy could see he was beaten to shit. A trickle of blood ran down his face from his temple and he had a black eye and a series of scratches down his face. Even his heavy Kevlar-and-camo outfit had tears in it. Daisy wanted to give a high-five to whoever managed to do that to him.

The speaker’s face shifted from fear to glee at whatever the other man was saying to him and Daisy knew it couldn’t be good.

The second man stepped to the back of the stage and the speaker set off the siren on the megaphone. The crowd winced and groaned, but mostly fell quiet.

“Non-believers! Fools!” He shouted, “You want proof, we will show you proof! Tomorrow at high noon, come witness the execution by sunlight of a vampire!”

Daisy’s stomach dropped and she glanced in horror towards Elena and Joey.

“They can’t…right?” She asked, nearly begging for validation.

Joey and Elena look equally stunned and said nothing.

Daisy took off running.

She sprinted across campus towards the dorms, not even feeling the residual soreness of her muscles from that morning. She tore through the quad and darted through the shortcuts between buildings they had found on their winter full moon excursions. Students strolling to and from class leapt out of her way as she darted past. Daisy reached the dorm and crashed through the door, barely remembering to pull out her access card and wave it at the sensor.

The wait for the elevator was agonizing and Daisy nearly considered running up the stairs, but Jemma’s apartment was near the top floor and the elevator was probably faster anyway.

Daisy forced herself through the elevator doors as soon as they opened a crack and sprinted down the hall. She told herself she was being ridiculous. The Watchdogs were obviously lying; Jemma was going to open the door and scoff at Daisy for being so gullible.

Daisy pounded on the door. No response.

She waited a moment and knocked again.

“Jemma?” she called out.

No response.

She pressed her ear into the door, listening for any small sound that Jemma was inside. She could ignore Daisy all day; Daisy didn’t care, as long as she was safe.

A few seconds of holding her breath and listening yielded nothing.

It’s fine, Daisy told herself. She just went out. She’ll be back.

Daisy dug out her phone and dialed Jemma’s number. Despite being nearly 400 years old, Jemma loved the modern convenience of having a computer in her pocket and kept it on her at all times.

It rang. It went to voicemail.

Daisy was starting to panic. She called again. Same result.

Elena and Joey spilled out of the elevator and met Daisy in the hall.

“Well?” Elena demanded.

Daisy took a deep breath. “She’s not home and her phone keeps going to voicemail. I’m sure it’s fine, though. She’s just gone out and forgot to charge her phone.”

She was trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

Elena and Joey shared a glance.

“What?” Daisy snapped.

“About that…” Joey cautiously stepped forward, as if afraid that Daisy might bite him, and held something out.

It was Jemma’s phone. It was easily recognizable by the tacky sticker on the phone case with bright red lips with fangs that said ‘Bite Me’. Daisy had bought Jemma as a joke and Jemma had defiantly stuck it on the back of her otherwise plain phone case.

The phone’s screen was shattered in a jagged spiderweb pattern that indicated the phone had been dropped.

“Where did you find this?” Daisy demanded.

“Just outside of the dorm,” Joey replied. “Maybe they were staking out the dorm and waiting for someone to come out alone. Or…maybe she just dropped it.”

Daisy stared down at the broken phone as the cold realization crept up her spine.

“They’ve got Jemma.”

#skimmons #bioquake #jemma simmons/daisy johnson #bite me fic #vampire au #werewolf au

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ourmrmel · 6 years ago

Text

Mel Feller, MPA, MHR, Discusses Word of Mouth Marketing.

Mel is the President/Founder of Mel Feller Seminars with Coaching for Success 360, Inc. and Mel Feller Coaching. Mel Feller maintains offices in Texas and in Utah.

It is as important to know what word of mouth marketing IS as what it IS NOT. Word-of-Mouth (W-O-M) is about involving, educating and satisfying customers. It is not about abandoning your marketing plan and advertising campaign. It is not enough to simply provide good customer service and wait for the buzz to build. In fact, let us test your knowledge of W-O-M with this simple quiz. Select the most suitable answer to the following questions. Answers are at the end of the handout/article.

WHAT IS WORD-OF-MOUTH MARKETING?

1. Great Word-of-Mouth is

a. an art

b. a science

c. a matter of chance

2. The leading form of communication is

a. Word-of-Mouth

b. print media

c. the Internet

3. The most influential factor in your business is

a. a marketing consultant

b. memorable advertising

c. an educated consumer

4. You can involve customers by

a. seeking their opinions and input

b. soliciting testimonials

c. sending gifts as incentives

5. Word-of-Mouth is primarily controlled by

a. your sales force

b. your competition

c. you

6. Promotional success results from

a. a combination of marketing efforts

b. high visibility advertising

c. a strong marketing plan

7. The most effective technique for handling negative Word-of-Mouth is

a. an immediate response

b. an accurate response

c. putting the right spin on it

8. Your Word-of-Mouth marketing and your advertising should be

a. consistent

b. collaborative

c. competitive

9. Customers are most likely to spread the word about your business if

a. they're happy with your service

b. anyone happens to ask

c. they're dissatisfied

10. A referred customer will probably

a. pass along the recommendation to others

b. approach you warily

c. expect a price break

Word-of-Mouth does not just happen. You have to generate it yourself. Too many entrepreneurs believe that simply providing an excellent product or service is enough to catapult people to their door. Marketing plans based on W-O-M require an understanding of the "science" of purchasing decisions. Think about a business that you yourself have recommended and consider what aspects inspired this endorsement.

People tend to share their disappointment rather than their satisfaction. Your customers are not any different. Although great customer service cannot hurt your business, it is more likely to decrease negative W-O-M than significantly increase positive W-O-M. The reason is that people always expect great customer service as the standard. Any deviation from that standard will produce negative feedback through word of mouth and not to the owner.

Always respond immediately to negative Word-of-Mouth. Determine whether an unreasonable customer or a competitor cast the slander and respond calmly with a solid point-by-point defense. When customers comes to you with a complaint, do what you can to send them away happy. This is cannot be emphasized enough. In fact, we cannot grow in our business without feedback. Look at it as a way to improve your business and then follow up with that customer to let them know how grateful you are for their feedback and that this problem has been rectified. Negative feelings occur in a heartbeat, but can linger for years if you do not deal with them immediately. Let your customers know that they can always bring their complaints to you.

Involvement is a simple and effective way to build W-0-M. Involve your customers by providing them with valuable information about the quality of your product/service. You can offer a tour (either in person or on video) of your production facility to the public and clients. At the retail level, offer hands-on demonstrations of how your product/service works, explaining the benefits and providing tips on maintenance and service. Some manufacturers will go out of their way to invite customers to participate on a product review panel.

Build W-O-M through testimonials. Testimonials are easy to understand and relate to and they allow prospects to visualize using your product. You can solicit formal letters, or--if you overhear a passing compliment or recommendation from a customer--request permission to quote them in your next ad or newsletter. Always get authorization before using the quotations and maintain a file in case you need to verify the source. Another great way is to take pictures or videos. People can always relate to the genuineness’ of the customer. By doing that, it will also help your advertising by having; their family members flock to your website to see them. In addition, it has always been a practice of mine to include kids. If kids love things, the parents will always follow!

An often-overlooked aspect of W-O-M is the way you treat your employees, suppliers, friends and acquaintances. Your ability to inspire trust will be communicated to your customers and prospects. Your policies and practices publicize that belief. Sales representatives, wholesalers, distributors, vendors, creditors, consultants, and industry experts also contribute to your reputation. Do not be afraid to use their influence. Provide them with the ammo to fire up your sales. Let them know that you build quality into your work. Tell stories of successful customers. Let those customers be show cased on your web and in your store. I also believe in always giving them a 10% discount ever after they have given their story. Their repeat business is priceless.

Now the big question is, where can you find inspirational stories? I recommend that you reward your employees and staff with incentives to gather and to collect customer interactions that depict your company's honesty and integrity. Share these stories at staff meetings. Use them generously in brochures, newspaper, radio and television advertising, direct mail pieces, newsletters and personal correspondence with customers. In addition, highlight your employees so they feel appreciated.

Here are several free and low-cost tactics you can adopt to drive word of mouth marketing for your small business.

Provide top-notch products and services. Customers will only extol your virtues if they are happy with what they have bought. What you sell and how you sell it, should live up to or exceed what your customers expect based on your ads, sales pitch, and industry standards. Remember, word of mouth works two ways. If customers are unhappy with your company, they will complain loudly and publicly about their bad experience.

Provide excellent customer service. The secret is treat your customers and prospects the way you would like to be treated yourself. A few basics: Smile at customers when you talk to them. Be polite. Answer their questions. Do not keep them waiting unnecessarily. Whenever possible have a real person answer the phone. If you must send callers to voice mail, have something in your voice mail announcement that lets them know how soon you will return their call. Then, return their call within the stated period. If you provide a service, get the customers' projects done on time and within their budget. Keep them informed about changes, delays, or other information they would want to know.

Be friendly. If you have customers, you come into your store or restaurant regularly, take a minute to smile and say "Hi" and ask how they are doing today. If you know a customer's name, call them by name. Friendly hellos and a few seconds of small talk make most people feel welcome and like they are dealing with a friend. If you have customers call you, do the same thing, if possible.

Answer questions that prospects have with facts, not jargon, and if you sell something technical, do not talk down to the customer or get annoyed if they have trouble understanding what you are saying. Rephrase your answer so the customer does understand it. If there is some industry news or product information that will be helpful to customers, pass it along to them.

Thank your customers for their business. Everyone likes to be appreciated, and customers are no exception. While you may have the words printed on receipts or included in email confirmations of sales, or you or your staff may say "Thanks" in person, doing something such as sending a handwritten thank you card to new customers or a returning customer will set you apart as a business who cares about their customers and is worth recommending.

Return calls as promptly after you have made the sale as you did before. If there’s going to be a delay in delivering a product or service, let the customer know about the delay as soon as you become aware of it, and let them know why there is a delay and what options they have.

If a customer calls with a complaint about your product or service, do not argue with them or point fingers. Apologize (even if you think the customer may be wrong) and solve their problem or offer a refund. By handling problems quickly and efficiently, you and your employees can turn angry customers into fans and advocates.

Be sure you and your employees are always polite no matter how rude or angry a customer may be. Never raise your voice, be sarcastic, or speak in a demeaning way to customers.

Keep in touch with customers and prospects by email. Using email to communicate regularly with customers and prospects who have requested to be on your mailing list helps them remember you and brings repeat business. If you are regularly providing interesting information, coupons, or other material customers want, they will brag to their friends who have similar interests about the benefits they have derived from you and your company.

Be personally visible to your market. Join networking groups and industry groups that your customers join and be a regular attendee at meetings and events. Talk to people at meetings to find out what they do and what is important to them and what challenges they face. When you can, give them tips or point them to resources they need, even though it has nothing to do with your business. Your goal is to be thought of as a friend and problem-solver - not just a salesperson.

Be Active in Social Media. Set up Facebook, Twitter, Google + and Linked In pages for your business. Consider Pinterest and SlideShare, too. Choose the social media channels that are most likely to reach your target customers. Then encourage your customers to like them, follow them and share what you post on them. Run contests and special promotions to encourage shares. A social media "share" spreads the word of mouth about your company to all the people who follow and like the customers who share your information. Test paid ads or promoted post options on Facebook, too.

Add social share buttons to your website and email messages. The easier you make it for customers and prospects to share your information and promotions, the more likely it is they will do so.

Offer to be a speaker or give seminars at conferences, industry meetings, and libraries. Be sure your talk delivers plenty of useful content. Delivering useful, factual information and problem-solving tips about issues common to the audience will set you up as an expert and the go-to person to solve the problems you talked about.

When people praise you, ask if you can use their comments on your website and/or promotional material. The comments are testimonials you can use to help prospects “hear” good things about your company.

Publicize any publicity you get. If a reporter quotes you, you win an award, you are a guest on a talk show, let other people know about it. You can post newspaper clips on a store bulletin board, link to them from your website, and mention the accomplishments in a newsletter. Knowing other people are talking about you, will give your customers even more incentive to tell their friends about you.

Be involved in your community. Whether it is sponsoring a little league team, or an organization event, your participation will help you and your business name will always be remembered.

Make your business name and phone number easy to find. Have it painted in big letters on vehicles you use to service consumers or businesses so anyone who can see your vehicle knows how to reach you. Leave several business cards with customers so they can hand them out when a neighbor asks if they were happy with the job, you did and how to get in touch with you. Make your business phone number visible on every page of your website.

Hone your networking skills. Join and become active in local business, community, or industry groups that attract your targeted customers. Win respect (and business) by helping others in the group achieve their goals.

Refer business to noncompeting businesses. When you refer customers, patients or clients to others, those businesses are more likely to refer business to you.

Thank people who refer business to you. How you thank them will depend on the nature of your business. The thanks may be in the form of a hand-written thank you card, a coupon, a cash reward, or whatever is practical, expected, and ethical for your line of business. Thanking those who help you will make them feel their efforts are greatly appreciated, which will make them be glad to recommend you to more people. Remember; step out from the crowd and your competition!

Very few marketing strategies can match WOM in terms of viral potential or cost-efficiency.

The right strategy can explode a company onto the scene for mere pennies, but it does not just happen by itself. Word of mouth marketing requires a genuine and meaningful customer engagement with the target audience. It is a two-way participation.

Use the strategies we discussed here today, but remember that ultimately, it is meaningful connection, rather than technique, that motivates customers to become brand ambassadors.

______________________________________________

Quiz Answers: 1b 2a 3c 4a 5c 6a 7a 8b 9c 10a

Mel Feller, MPA, MHR, is a well-known real estate, business consultant, personal development consultant and speaker, specializing in performance, productivity, and profits. Mel is the President/Founder of Mel Feller Seminars with Coaching For Success 360, Inc. and Mel Feller Coaching, a real estate and business specific coaching company. His three books for real estate professionals are systems on how to become an exceptional sales performer. His four books in Business and Government Grants are ways to leverage and increase your business Success in both time and money! His book on Personal Development “Lies that Will Sabotage Your Success”. Mel Feller is in Texas and In Utah. Currently an MBA Candidate.

#entrepreneur #entreprenuer #business coach for entrepreneurs #entreprenuership #being an entrepreneur #wordofmouth #word of mouh #marketing marketing plan #small business #customers #buzz to build #wom #mel feller #melfeller.com #melfellersuccessstories.com #mel feller seminars #mel feller coaching

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