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wordsnwhiskey · 3 years

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As It Should Be | Chapter 5: Breaking In The Newbies

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: After a rough and emotional night, Frankie makes a decision on Jack’s offer. Before they can get to that though, the morning debrief with Champ brings back a familiar face and Jack has you and Frankie teach the junior agents a lesson during combat training.

Rating: M

Warnings: Canon typical violence, guns, swearing, discussions about safewords.

A/N: Alright, a lot of stuff needed to happen here and we’re going to have a little action and see Frankie show off a bit. It was important to me that the discussion of safe words and Jack checking again for consent happened in a chapter separate from the actual smut. For me, it further emphasizes that Jack doesn’t want Frankie to feel pressured to accept or do anything he doesn’t want to because it’s “in the moment”. Consent is sexy, friends.

I have to give my love and thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the beta reads, the fantastic constructive criticism and encouragement!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 4: Company | AO3 | Art

The morning sun stirred Frankie. Even with his eyes still closed, he could tell the room was alight, but the warmth that surrounded him had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the body next to him. He opened his eyes and realized he was definitely not in Whiskey’s guest bedroom. Instead, he was very much curled into Whiskey’s lightly rising chest. Frankie blushed, very unused to being the little spoon, and moreover, not used to someone’s morning wood poking at him. Whiskey was gently roused from sleep by Frankie’s small movements. He lifted his arm from around Frankie’s waist and stretched.

“G’morning Flyboy. You were having nightmares, so I brought you in here.

“Oh, sorry for waking you up and… thank you.” Frankie felt guilt sting at his throat.

Whiskey grunted and rolled out of bed to go shower.

“Nothing to worry about, partner. I’m no stranger to those kinds of nightmares.”

Frankie was grateful Whiskey understood and made no effort to pry. With a grunt of his own, Frankie got up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen, intent on trying to get coffee going while Whiskey showered.

Whiskey finished his shower and stepped out to dry off, then wrapped his towel around his waist. He was drawn to the kitchen by the smell of coffee, Frankie’s initiative quirking the corners of his mouth into a small smile. He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Frankie poured their coffee, handing Whiskey’s to him black. Jack hummed his approval, a sound which he noted made Frankie preen a bit.

“Good boy.” Jack gestured to the coffee with a small wink as the air seemed to be pushed from Frankie’s lungs. “Now, as much as I enjoy the view of you in just my shorts, let's get you into something you can wear at the office.”

Frankie was rooted to the spot, Jack’s “good boy” ringing in his ears and sending a wave of warmth throughout his entire body. Jack didn’t comment, just let his smirk speak for itself as he took his coffee back to his room and opened the doors to his closet. His fingers tabbed at a few of the hanging suits as he looked back to see that Frankie had finally uprooted himself and joined him.

“We’re similar in build, so you ought to be able to pull off one of my suits…”

Frankie winced.

“Right, well then, let’s go with something a touch more casual.

Jack grabbed a pair of jeans, a blue button down, white t-shirt, belt, and socks, handing each article of clothing over to Frankie as he moved around his closet.

“There, that should do you. Comfortable, but still presentable for Statesman.”

Jack gave him a smile only to notice Frankie shifting his weight.

“Thanks,” came Frankie’s reply as he turned to get dressed. He didn’t mind going without boxers, but the sudden realization that he needed more clothes of his own hit Frankie as he dressed in the clothes Jack had given him.

“Hey Jack?”

Whiskey hummed in acknowledgement as he finished getting dressed himself: jeans, suspenders, white button down shirt, and a navy wool blazer.

“I was thinking about your offer last night, and… I’d like that.”

Whiskey turned to look at Frankie, giving him a once over, distantly thinking about how good Frankie looked in his clothes, and a mischievous smile lit up Whiskey’s face.

“I’m looking forward to it, Flyboy. We’ll discuss things a bit more at the end of the day in my office. It’s about as close to neutral territory as we’re gonna get for that conversation. For today though, I want you to be a good boy and stick to me like a shadow. We’re meeting with Champ first thing. Then, we’re gonna have some fun.”

Frankie nodded, rocking back on his heels for a moment, then fell in step with Whiskey as they headed out, both of them grabbing their respective hats as they went. The ride in Whiskey’s Bronco was quiet, and soon enough they were riding the elevator up to their floor in the Statesman tower.

You were seated at the conference table facing the double doors with Pope to your right.

“You sleep alright, Pope? Hope Ginger didn’t keep you too late.”

“She’s something, that’s for sure, Hawk, but she did let me go, eventually.”

He gave you a good natured laugh that slowly lost its shine.

“You hear from Fish, Hawk? Ginger told me where she put him up and I went to check on him last night, but he never answered.”

Worry bloomed in your chest, not that it had really gone away after seeing Frankie leave yesterday. You figured if he wanted or needed to talk, he would have reached out to you. Honestly, you had hoped he would have checked in with Pope at some point since he probably felt more comfortable with him. Just then, the conference double doors opened, giving way as Jack strode in, greeting you with a smile and tilt of his head. Relief eased the tension in your chest and shoulders when Frankie followed closely behind Jack. Your eyes darted over to Whiskey, fixing him with a questioning gaze as you realized the clothes Frankie was wearing belonged to Jack.

“Fish!” Pope practically jumped out of his chair, rushing over to Frankie with a duffle bag in tow. “I was worried about you, hermano. I went to the hotel, but you didn’t answer.”

To Frankie’s credit, his face didn’t betray much, but both you and Pope knew that Frankie didn’t have any other clothes aside from what he had left with.

“Uh, yeah, must’ve just missed you.”

You could tell Pope was filing the information away for later. Your eyes wandered to Jack’s again and you raised an eyebrow. At least you now had an idea why he had cancelled on you last night.

“Here, Fish. I figured you’d want your go bag.”

“Gracias, hermano.”

They clasped arms, then took their seats. Frankie grabbed the orange tinted glasses he had left the day before and put them on, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. His gaze fell to yours and he gave you a small smile, but before you could say anything, Champ’s holo image flickered to life.

“Catfish! You’re looking mighty fine! Much better than yesterday.”

“Yes sir, thanks.”

Champ nodded. He’d been worried about how the man would fare, especially considering the news yesterday.

“Right, down to the business at hand. It does appear that a new cartel is making their play at center stage, picking up where Poppy left off. They’re not following Poppy’s business model, though. From what we understand, the group is headed by four individuals: Isabella Gómez, Duke Hernández, Steven Weisel and Emily Weisel. They’ve taken to calling themselves La Linda Rosa, likely after the Red Agent flowers. Up until now, they’ve been your run of the mill cartel, but it’s our belief that the Weisels have been instrumental in their production and processing of Agent Red. Recently, the Weisels purchased land in Colombia, and from our drone coverage, they may have set up processing plants there. We don’t know why the sudden shift to Agent Red, though. The plants themselves go for $500k per plant, and they take time to mature. We don’t think the Weisels are responsible for acquiring the plants, so that leaves either Isabella or Duke.”

Frankie’s attention drifted from Champ to the pictures on the screen and swore.

“Fuck. Pope, you know who that is, right? I thought they were in Australia?”

Pope did a double take, recognizing his old informant’s brother. The Statesman stared at the two men, waiting for them to elaborate. Frankie sighed and settled into his seat a bit more, knee bouncing anxiously.

“Four years ago, Pope came to me and the rest of our old team to take out Gabriel Martín Lorea and make out with the money he had stockpiled. Pope’s CI, Yovanna, and her brother, Duke, both worked for Lorea. In exchange for helping us, Pope got the brother out of jail and we dropped them off in Peru with papers to Australia and $3M. Looks like Duke wasn’t satisfied with life in Australia.”

Ginger frowned and pulled up Duke’s known associates, Yovanna’s picture following the others on screen.

“Yovanna appears to still be living in Australia, but it’s possible Duke grabbed the money and ran.”

Frankie closed his eyes, lifting his cap and carding his fingers through his hair before placing the hat back on his head and sighing.

“What’s the plan? Sounds like the plants and processing facilities need to be taken out, and then there’s the compound, too.”

Pope nodded, then sighed as well. This was bringing back memories for the both of them.

“We’ll also need to be wary of the local agencies. They’ll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, especially if it’s anything like how it was with Lorea.”

Champ nodded and tilted his head to Ginger.

“We’re doing our own recon and then we’ll break out teams. Pope, Catfish, we’d like you to at least help with intel, and given your experience in taking down Lorea, if you’re up for it, I’d like you both on the compound assault team.”

You saw Pope and Frankie share a look, Frankie’s jaw clenched and then he nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great, not to worry boys, Statesman has the best resources, stateside or otherwise. For now, I’m sure we can keep you plenty busy. Whiskey, don’t forget, today is your day for combat training with the new recruits. Bourbon, Cranberry needs you to test equipment in the lab later today.”

“Pope, could you actually stick around again for a bit? I’ve got some more intel I want to run through with you.” Ginger chimed in, and you were surprised he didn’t grimace at the idea of being locked in a room for hours again.

With that, the meeting was over, Champ’s holo image disappeared and they took their glasses off. Jack stood up and Frankie was quick to follow him, much to your intrigue. You stood up as well. You were eager to watch Jack have his way with the new agents. It was always fun. Whiskey seemed to know you would be following and beckoned for you to enter his office first, followed by Frankie, and Jack closed the door behind him.

“Go ahead and set your bag down wherever you’d like, Flyboy.”

Frankie dropped his bag in a corner then promptly started to rifle through it, pulling his shoes out and quickly swapping his dress shoes for them. He let out a sigh of relief as he rolled up on the balls of his feet and rocked back on his heels. He hated dress shoes.

You took a short minute to admire Frankie in the blue button down while he rolled up his sleeves. Jack’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you into him.

“Missed you, darlin’.”

Smiling, you took his face in your hands and tugged him down for a kiss.

“Missed you too, Jack.”

You murmured against his lips, and you resolved not to ask about last night. Whatever happened, Frankie must have reached out to Jack, not you or Santi, and you’d leave it at that. Jack hummed contentedly for a moment before he pulled back and winked at you.

“Are you coming to watch us break in the newbies, darlin’? I was thinking you and Flyboy could do the first demo.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but there was a playfulness in them as well.

“Us?” You questioned Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“First demo?” Came Frankie’s question as he whirled around to face you and Whiskey.

Jack’s smile broadened and he started out of his office and towards the elevator, expecting you and Frankie to follow.

“What are we demoing, Whiskey?”Frankie asked, more pointedly this time.

“Well, our newbies are scheduled to learn about disarms and what happens when the enemy goes for their gun. I thought it’d be good to have them start out seeing Bourbon disarm you.”

Frankie huffed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall. You smiled as you leaned against the wall opposite Frankie.

“It’ll be just like old times, Fish.”

He groaned and shook his head.

“Why have me do the demo though? I’m not a Statesman agent.”

Before you could respond to reassure Frankie, Jack chimed in, eyeing him with nothing short of gleeful mischief. Jack enjoyed breaking the new agents in almost a little too much sometimes, but it was good for them, and he was good at it.

“No, you’re not, you’re ex-Delta Force, Frankie. These agents have had plenty of training, but they don’t have your experience, Flyboy. They’re gonna learn the difference today.”

Jack shared a similar philosophy with you when it came to combat training and sparring. You had been a terror in hand-to-hand, still were, you were proud to say. You knew there was often a size disadvantage, but you had learned to use your opponent’s momentum against them, and more importantly, you didn’t follow convention. In sparring matches, most people fought like they were sparring, which was fine for beginning, but there was a big difference between practicing and being in an actual fight. You never advocated for an all out brawl, but you refused to follow the typical learned pattern that people naturally gravitated towards. Tom had been predictable and a sore loser. Will was predictable but sweet. Benny, well, there was a reason he was semi-pro, which left Santi and Frankie. Santiago was fun, and you had lost your fair share of matches to both him and Benny. Frankie had a spark in his eyes when he sparred, but no matter how hard you had tried to get him to let go, he refused. It had nothing to do with anything silly like you being a woman, more to do with the fact that Frankie never seemed to just let himself go in that way. You had only seen him let go a bit twice, both times in the field and well worn down by the day.

The elevator dinging startled you out of your reverie, and you followed right behind Jack towards the training room. Frankie assumed they would be entering a gym of sorts, but he was sorely mistaken, and he realized the ‘floor’ they were on must have been composed of several. The ‘room’ was really more of a training complex housed in the unassuming tower. To the right, a group of 20 people stood, waiting. He gave them a cursory glance, and then his eyes were pulled to the range. He’d definitely have to visit to let off some stress. He followed as you and Whiskey led the way to the group of agents and hung back slightly as the group stood to attention.

“Well, look at this promising group of newbies, Bourbon. D’you think they’re up for today’s lesson?”

You let the smirk on your lips turn into a full crooked smile, you had more than a small idea as to what Jack was going to do. Looking over your shoulder, you caught Frankie’s eye and nodded for him to join you.

“I don’t know, Whiskey, simple concept, but we’ll see what their execution is like. My money is on our guy.”

The agents before you bristled, full of young pride that was well-earned. Whiskey’s hand clasped over Frankie’s shoulder as he introduced him to the new agents.

“Y’all are in for a treat. Our friend, Catfish, here, has generously volunteered to help train you on close quarters combat and disarms. Bourbon will demo the defense first. Catfish,” Whiskey took a pistol from the long table off to the side and handed it to Frankie. “Your objective is simple: shoot a blank at Bourbon.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his eyes sought yours to make sure you were comfortable. An answering smile was good enough for him, and he checked the pistol, confirming there were no live rounds, before looking back up at you. The two of you easily slid into a ready position, and Jack gestured for the new agents to give you some room.

“Halcón, when you go for the takedown, ten cuidado con mi espalda. Ya no soy joven.” [be careful with my back. I’m not young anymore.]

It only mildly annoyed you that he already knew you were going to go for the takedown, after priding yourself on your spontaneity earlier, but you pushed that out of your mind as you both stood a few steps apart. There would be a split second when Frankie pulled his pistol and took a readying step. That would be where you would have an opening and make your move. A tense handful of seconds that seemed to stretch on filled the air. Jack watched the new agents, the tension between you and Frankie seemed to embed itself in the junior agents’ lungs as they all waited with bated breath.

Nothing telegraphed Frankie’s quick movements as he drew his pistol, but on instinct, your body was moving. He saw your left hand fly out to redirect his momentum and push his gun hand away, quickly shifting to plant his weight, keeping you from landing the takedown this early. The training you and Frankie had received taught you to be efficient and end things quickly. That was easier said when you had spent years training together. The junior agents seemed to still be holding their breath while you traded blows. Your moment of opportunity came, and you took it. Frankie seemed to understand what was happening but his balance was off. You stepped into him, your hip bumping his as your hand came to grip over the top of his pistol. The next thing everyone knew, you were both on the ground, the gun skittering harmlessly away, and Frankie’s arm in an arm bar. He grunted and quickly tapped at your leg to surrender, and you let him go. The class was quiet until Whiskey broke the silence as you helped Frankie to his feet.

“I hope you lot were paying attention to Catfish here, he did a great job demonstrating what to do when facing a difficult opponent like Bourbon. For this exercise, the rest of you will attempt to take a shot at Catfish and he will disarm you by whatever means he deems necessary.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, knowing Whiskey was being intentional with his wording.The laugh died quickly, however, at the words of one of the junior agents.

“How was that a good example? He lost, he was disarmed. We should be practicing against someone better, who would last longer.”

At your side, you saw Frankie stand up straighter, his feet moving shoulder width apart as his hands clasped behind his back and he fixed the younger agent with a steely gaze. Even as his breathing remained calm, it was obvious the words had gotten to him. Whiskey’s good natured grin turned into a smug smirk.

“Davis,” Whiskey began, calling the man out by his last name and emphasizing he hadn’t earned a Statesman moniker. “Since you’re so eager, by all means, approach Catfish when you’re ready and show us how your Statesman training fares.”

Frankie kept his gaze leveled at the cocky junior agent, noticing in his periphery that you had moved away to give them plenty of room. Davis moved to be a few steps in front of him. Frankie continued to hold the stare as he questioned Whiskey.

“Are you sure about this, Whiskey?”

Whiskey nodded, Frankie’s gaze flickering over to him for the briefest of seconds, then he brought his hands to a loose ready position at his sides. Davis drew his pistol, but Frankie grabbed the barrel with his left hand, stepped forward and hooked his right foot behind Davis’ lead leg and pushed on the agent’s chest with his right hand. Davis went down, but found himself suspended by Frankie’s hold on his shirt. The class was filled with littered gasps and snickers. The ‘fight’ was over before it had really begun. Frankie helped right the agent and stepped aside to let him retrieve his firearm.

“Attaboy, Catfish! Davis, looks like you’ve got some work to do. Here’s another lesson, agents: Statesman agents aren’t your only competition out there. We’ve got some fancy gear and trainin’ here, but there’s a world of intelligence agents and mercs out there. Catfish served with Bourbon, and that should tell you all you need to know.” He paused a moment to let the information sink in as Davis returned to the line to lick his wounds. Then Whiskey called the next agent.

Frankie breathed in, then out through his nose, and got ready. As they went, the junior agents in waiting began to pick up on a few of his techniques, and he had to adjust, but time spent practicing and training at Benny’s gym had prepared him well for this.

You watched as Jack’s eyes danced while he followed Frankie’s movements. The circumstances earlier had prevented him from truly appreciating how efficient and capable the quiet man was. The last of the junior agents had made their attempt and consequently failed. Frankie’s breath was coming more unevenly now, and rightly so. What he had gone through would be exhausting for anyone.

“Well done, everyone, a round of applause to Catfish for taking the time to demonstrate y’all have a lot to learn before getting approved for field work. Now go on and line up at the range and get warmed up. We’ll be running sims next.”

The junior agents dispersed to the range towards the back of the room. Frankie let out a breath and rolled his shoulders to let out some of the tension he had been carrying, then started heading for the range, eager to let off some more steam.

“Where do you think you’re going, partner?”

Frankie frowned, his eyes darting between you and Whiskey in confusion.

“I thought we were going to go shoot?”

Jack smiled then winked at Frankie.

“They’re warming up, you still have one more person to disarm, Flyboy.”

Frankie’s fingers twitched, and you could see that the exercise earlier had worn at his usual restraint.

“No lasso.”

Whiskey handed you his lasso, then unloaded his revolvers and passed you the ammo. He holstered his revolvers again and stepped into position in front of Frankie. You watched as a new kind of energy seemed to crackle between them, and some of the junior agents seemed to sense it, stopping to watch as well.

Whiskey was fast, but training at the boxing gym had helped Frankie with his speed. As Whiskey drew his revolver, Frankie sprung forward. He didn’t bother to grab the gun. Instead, he brought his fist down on the barrel, sending it skittering away. Whiskey’s fist connected with Frankie’s side, and you heard, rather than saw, Frankie’s reservations fall away with a snarl. He took hold of the inside of Jack’s blazer, grabbing the grip of the other revolver holstered there and made to pull it out and take the ‘shot’. Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Frankie to go on the offensive, but he found he was impressed. He liked a challenge. Before Frankie could draw the revolver from the holster, Jack grabbed his wrists and wrenched them down, then back up quickly to break Frankie’s hold, and then Jack threw them both to the ground. Both men recovered quickly, but in the chaos, the revolver had fallen to the ground and Frankie scrambled for it. Just as his fingertips touched cold metal, Whiskey’s whip flicked the revolver further away, and they closed the distance to grapple with each other again.

Your match with Frankie had been a well practiced dance, and this was too, in its own right. However, where yours had been fluid, Whiskey and Frankie were bordering on feral. For a moment, it appeared that Frankie had gotten the upper hand. Whiskey staggered backwards, about to fall, but as he went, he flicked his whip, the corded length wrapping around Frankie’s throat. He tugged, sending them both to the ground. Frankie grunted and struggled against the snare he was in. Whiskey wasted no time in scrambling up and pinning Frankie, his knee to the pilot’s back. Frankie continued to struggle until Whiskey leaned down so that only the other man could hear.

“Easy now, Tiger, save your strength for tonight. You did good.”

Frankie relaxed under Jack’s weight and nodded. Whiskey got off of him with a grunt and unwound the corded length of the whip from Frankie’s neck, then pressed a button on the handle to recall it. He helped Frankie up and dusted him off a bit.

A few of the junior agents were still watching in awe. It was rare to see a senior agent like you or Whiskey truly need to put some effort in, and to see it twice in one day was something else entirely. You walked over to the two men and put your hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“You did great, Fish, nice to see you let loose for once.”

He scoffed good naturedly and swooped to pick his hat up from off the ground.

“You guys had quite the audience while you were at it, too.” Your smile was barely contained as you raised an eyebrow at Jack.

This time it was Whiskey’s turn to scoff.

“Well, I hope they’ve been practicing. They’ll be running the sim after Frankie does.”

Whiskey patted Frankie on his shoulder then gestured for him to follow. He led him to an enclosed area that occupied the majority of the left side of the training complex. A small structure that looked like a house sat inside the enclosure, and you knew it was furnished to match whatever simulation scenario had been determined. Whiskey stopped at a table just outside of the enclosure and gestured to the rifle, combat knife, folder, and headset.

“Alright, Flyboy, I know you’ve done this sort of exercise before. Your brief is on the table there. Good luck.”

You and Whiskey walked a bit further along the enclosure to two screens. One cycled through a variety of camera angles while the other would connect to the headset once Frankie turned it on.

“You’re really having Frankie run the simulation?”

Whiskey nodded, “I didn’t have him help with the demo just to teach those newbies a lesson, darlin’. He’s been through hell, and I figured getting him to work through some of that in sparring and the sim would help. That, and, well… you can’t blame me for bein’ curious, Bourbon. Last time I got to see what he could do, we were a bit busy trying not to get shot.”

You can’t help but to chuckle and shake your head, your attention going back to Frankie as he geared up.

“Frankie turns into a different person on missions sometimes, used to scare the hell out of people on base who saw it. No one ever suspected it because he was always the quiet one, but he’s just as competitive as the rest of the guys on the team. He was just always scary good at keeping a level head and focusing on the mission. You’ll see.”

Frankie put on the kit provided for him then flipped through the brief before lowering the headset and advancing. The brief had been fairly simple: infiltrate the compound, rescue the target, and escort the target to the exfil location. They even provided a decent description of the target. The virtual course populated guards patrolling the 3 entrances. He opted for the path of least resistance with only 2 guards posted.

From the screen, you and Jack could see Frankie take a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing even as he crept towards the two guards. You knew it was because he was willing himself to let go, to let his instincts and muscle memory take over. He was lightning fast as his knife came out and he landed brutal and precise fatal blows to the targets on the screen. In a normal situation, he would hide the bodies but the miracle of technology meant he didn’t have to. It was beautiful in a devastating way to watch Frankie move with such confidence, stealth, and precision. He peered around a hallway, noting the sudden influx of guards and catching a glimpse of red at the end of the hall. The brief had indicated the target would be in red, and it made sense that there would be more guards to ensure the target didn’t run off. He counted five hostiles in the hallway.

Five guards, five bullets.

Once he had downed the hostiles, Frankie stepped through the hallway, catching a glimpse of the target and swore at how cliché the scenario was. The brief had just said the target had last been seen wearing red.

“¡Me están jodiendo! ¿En serio? ¿Una mujer en un vestido rojo?” [They’re fucking with me. Really? A woman in a red dress?]

You could both hear Frankie through the mic link in his headset, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It quickly died as you and Whiskey tensed. The woman in red was a decoy, one that statistically caught the majority of users by surprise.

“Ma’am, are you-” She moved just barely and he saw the glint of where a gun was holstered. Frankie didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he fired a shot to her chest and grumbled to himself before moving on. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken him that long to figure it out.

Whiskey whistled, thoroughly impressed. It wasn’t long after that Frankie found the real target and reached the ‘exfil location’.

“Damn, sweetheart, you sure picked a good one.”

He winked at you, and you grinned back as Frankie pulled off the headset and his kit, then walked over to you.

“Alright, agents! Catfish successfully completed the sim in 15 minutes, that’s your time to beat!”

A chorus of groans echoed in the training room. Whiskey ignored them and clapped Frankie on his shoulder.

“You did good, Flyboy, really set the bar high. Most people get caught up by the decoy.”

Frankie’s chest puffed out a little at the praise, but he was soon shaking his head. Before he could deflect the compliment, Whiskey squeezed his shoulder.

“Feeling hungry, Flyboy? Figured the three of us could grab a quick lunch before Cran steals Bourbon here away from us.”

“Yeah, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you to keep me busy like that.”

Vermouth entered the training room, and you waved him down.

“Hey, Vermouth! Watch the junior agents for us. Whiskey’s just got them running the sim. We’re going to go grab lunch!”

Without waiting for Vermouth’s answer, you grabbed Whiskey and Frankie’s hands, dragging them out of the training room and to the elevator.

“There’s a deli not far from the office we can walk to, and it’s late enough that we should miss the rush.”

Walking arm in arm with both of your boys, you could think of very few things better than right now. You didn’t care that you were in the middle of downtown New York. All that mattered was Whiskey on your right, and Frankie on your left.

Frankie did his best to relax and not let his anxiety and internal struggles get the best of him. Whiskey’s words echoed in his mind: “When it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it.” That was a lot easier said than done, but he was working on it.

You were right, the timing made it so that you had missed the lunch rush. You all ordered your food, Whiskey stepping in to pay with a look that silenced both you and Frankie, then you all went to sit down.

Whiskey practically sprawled in his chair, his legs encroaching your space under the table and Frankie’s space next to him. Frankie sat somewhat stiffly but the more he ate, the more he seemed to relax. You nudge his foot with yours playfully to grab his attention.

“How’s your back? Mr. Ya-no-soy-joven.”

The three of you laughed, and Frankie shook his head with a wide grin on his face.

“I’m not! Gotta leave that shit for the young guys who think they’re invincible.”

“Young guys like Davis?” You shot back, smug on Frankie’s behalf.

“Cocky kid had it coming.”

There was no anger in Frankie’s eyes, only the slightest lilt of mirth in his voice as his gaze met yours, then Whiskey’s. Whiskey leaned forward and barked a laugh while patting Frankie on the back.

“He sure did. The lot of them were in need of a reality check. That’s why Champ specifically likes to have me or Bourbon take at least one pass at our junior agents. After all those hours spent training, they tend to forget that there are much bigger fish out there.”

Conversation flowed easily between them for the rest of their lunch. It reminded Frankie of the prior morning, when they were enjoying breakfast and everything just felt right. It felt as if all of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and this time, this time, it didn’t feel fleeting.

Walking to the office was much more comfortable than the walk to the deli had been. You noticed that Frankie was far less stiff under your touch on his arm, even leaning into you occasionally. You parted ways in the elevator. You were heading to the lab to play guinea pig for Cranberry, and your boys were headed upstairs to Whiskey’s office. Frankie seemed hesitant to let you go, and you did your best not to spook him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Given everything that had happened, things needed to be almost wholly in Frankie’s court, at least until he was more comfortable around you. You had certainly noticed, however, how easily Frankie and Whiskey seemed to allow each other into their respective spaces. The elevator doors closed behind you as you strode down the hall. You were glad that they were comfortable together, though. It had definitely been a concern of yours, considering their respective pasts, but you also thought that there was the potential for them to relate and understand each other better than most.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, and as directed, Frankie remained Jack’s shadow. Jack did his best to keep from laughing when 5pm rolled around and Frankie began to subconsciously bounce his knee. He was scrolling on his phone, lower lip pulled between his teeth and brow furrowed as he tried to focus on whatever was on the screen.

You knocked on Jack’s open office door, raising an eyebrow when you saw Frankie startle at the sound. He wasn’t usually this jumpy. Jack’s gaze met yours, and you could see the amusement and mischief that bubbled in his eyes.

“Hey there, darlin’, you getting ready to head out for the night?”

“Just about, wanted to come see my boys before I do.”

Frankie’s knee stopped bouncing at your words, his phone falling into his lap as he looked up at you. You motion for him to scoot over a bit as you sit down on the couch next to him and rest your chin on your hand.

“We’re still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”

You posed the question to the room in general, even though the three of you knew that it was really directed towards Frankie.

“Uh yeah, I’m-I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow,” Frankie says after clearing his throat and gives you both a shy smile. Leaning over, you take his large hand in your own and give it a squeeze.

“Great!” Standing up from the couch, you smooth your clothes, give Frankie a kiss on his cheek, and then kiss Jack. “I’ll find us a place, and we’ll figure it out more tomorrow. Night, Frankie. Night, Jack.”

A minute later, you’re gone, and suddenly there’s nothing keeping Frankie’s mind off of the time, which is painfully close to 6pm, when Jack said he’d be done with work. The moment the clock turned that final, eternal minute, Frankie sat up straight, attentive, and alert as his eyes watched Whiskey.

Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching, then relocated next to Frankie on the couch.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything tonight, Flyboy. If you feel like you’re not up for it, we’ll just grab dinner and head home.”

Frankie shook his head and took a steadying breath.

“No, I want this. I-I could really use it, Jack.”

Whiskey nodded, eyes wandering over Frankie as he adjusted on the couch.

“Alright, I use the green, yellow, red system. You need me to stop for whatever reason, call red, and that’s it, no questions, no hard feelings or fuss. I’ll get you cleaned up and help you come down. Sound good?”

Frankie nodded, his tongue suddenly thick and his mouth dry in anticipation. Jack tutted.

“I need you to use your words, Flyboy.”

Frankie swallowed, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“I understand, s-sounds good.”

“Good. Now…” Jack pulled a small pad of stationary paper and a pen from the side table. “I want you to write out what you’re ok with and any hard or soft limits you have.”

Frankie nodded, then took the pen and paper and began writing.

[click for better quality]

A blush took hold of Frankie as he handed it back.

“It’s what I can come up with off the top of my head, for tonight at least. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up though.”

Jack’s eyes were dark as he perused the list, looking up from the paper to Frankie, he stood up with a smile.

“C’mon Flyboy… we’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated!

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bleep-bleep-richie · 3 years

Text

part one

part two

He's not panicking.

Just because he knows Eddie had court at 9am and they had plans to talk at lunch, and it's now 7pm and he still hasn't called.

Nope, definitely not panicking.

He isn't pacing the apartment either. No, he's just taking a leisurely stroll back and forth across his living room. There's just nothing good on TV. He isn't panicking, there's no reason to panic.

He had texted him at 1 and, after getting no answer, again at 5. He picks his phone up where he'd thrown it not even five minutes ago face down on the couch. He swipes his way to his messages.

Nothing.

He clicks "💖Edwardo💖" and scrolls through their messages from the last couple days. He sighs and clicks the text box.

Hey, I'm gonna stay up until I hear from you, so call me whenever.

He sends it and throws the phone to the side, collapsing against the back of his sofa. He picks up his laptop, clicks on the video chat app, and stares at the stupid picture Eddie had chosen as his icon. The edge of his mouth lifts in spite of the sick churning in his stomach. "Eddie fucking Kaspbrak," he mumbles with a shake of his head. He's still looking at Eddie's picture when he starts to doze off.

He has no idea how much time has gone by when he's woken up by the sound of a call coming through his computer. His vision's blurry, he pushes his glasses back up on his face, and sees Eddie's smile way too close to the camera. He accepts the call. "What the fuck, man?"

"Richie!" Eddie cries. "Did I wake you? You said you were staying up."

Richie stretches and yawns before picking the laptop up and putting it on his coffee table. "Guess I fell asleep." He narrows his eyes. "Where are you?"

"Out! With Matt!"

Richie wants to ask who the hell Matt is but the camera is on the guy before he gets the chance.

"Look, Matt, it's my boyfriend," he hears Eddie say, "the guy I was telling you about!"

Richie has a moment of disconnect. "Uh," he says cleverly.

Matt leans closer. "Wait, holy shit, you really are Richie Tozier." He grins. "When Eddie said he was dating a celebrity, I didn't believe him."

"Fuck you!"

"Uh, hi?" Richie says. He's still reeling from 'boyfriend' and 'dating.' "Sorry, who are you again?"

Eddie turns the phone back, his face swims into view unsteadily. "My new manager! I hired him last week, he's gonna manage the New York branch when I leave."

"Okay, you're screaming."

"I'm celebrating!" he yells, raising a glass. He knocks it back and drains it to prove his point.

It's loud, Richie can hear the sounds of other people talking and laughing. He guesses they're in a bar. "Can you go outside or something? I can barely hear you."

Eddie's nodding as he gets to his feet. "Shit, yeah, sorry," he says when he swallows. "Matt, I'll be right back."

"Take your time, boss. Nice to meet you, Mr. Tozier!"

Richie makes a face. "Did he just call me Mister Tozier?"

Eddie laughs. He leans against the cool bricks of the building once he gets outside. "Yeah, he's like that."

"So," Richie starts after a beat, "how'd it go?"

"Oh! We found a place!"

"A place?"

"Yeah, an office building," Eddie replies excitedly. "Matt found it on the computer. And! He put up an ad for people to email me their resumes. It was so much easier than I was making it, big shocker there, right."

Richie tilts his head for a second. "That's fantastic, Eds, but what about court?"

"Oh, oh! Richie!" Eddie's smile splits his face. "She signed the papers! She dropped everything she was asking for, a share in the company, all the alimony. She told me on the way out it's because she's already engaged, and all I could think was 'that poor schmuck." He laughs, open and cheerful. Richie doesn't know if he's ever seen him so happy.

"Wow, that's awesome. Congratulations."

Something in his voice must give him away. Eddie's eyes soften and his smile fades. "Oh, Rich, I'm so sorry. I was supposed to call. I was just so excited to get everything done, we worked right through lunch. I'm booking a flight to LA tomorrow. Richie, we're going to he together before the end of the week." His eyes are so bright and happy, Richie wants to drown himself in them.

"That's- Wow, Eds, that's amazing." He pauses. "You're amazing." Eddie's eyes start to water and Richie figures he must be way drunker than he's letting on. "Wait, how are you video chatting from your phone?"

Eddie blinks. "Oh, there's an app for it."

"Yes, I know there's an app for it. How in the hell did you know there was an app for it? The only app you have on your phone is a calculator."

"Matt downloaded it for me. I saw your text and mentioned I needed to call you, so he showed me how to do it."

"That's great," Richie says flatly. "Matt's great."

"Yeah, he really is a whiz at the technology stuff."

"That's what happens when you hire a 20 year old."

"He's 25." He considers Richie a moment. "Wait, what was that?"

"What was what?"

Eddie eyes him. "That tone was hostile and, like, jealous. Are you-"

"I'm definitely not jealous."

Eddie's eyes widen. "You're lying! That's your lying face!"

"I have a lying face?" Richie asks, raising his eyebrows.

"You do, and you're making it right now. Why would you be jealous of Matt?"

"I'm not!" he protests. He sighs. "I dunno, man, it's just like, the most important day of your life and that's who you're celebrating with."

"Richie," Eddie says. His voice is gentle, like trying to coax a wild animal into a cage. It makes Richie want to punch a wall at how ridiculously easy it is for Eddie to turn him to mush. "I would rather celebrate with you than anyone in the world. But, baby, you're not here."

Richie's mind short circuits so hard over the word 'baby' that it takes him a full 30 seconds to process the rest of that sentence. He scoffs a laugh, completely humorless. "Yeah, and whose fault is that?"

Eddie's face crumbles and he looks down and away from the camera, like he's ashamed. Like Richie is embarrassing him.

He instantly feels like a jackass. "I'm sorry, Eds, I'm not trying to rain on your parade. I was just worried, when you didn't call."

"I said I was sorry. I got busy."

"I texted you three times," Richie replies. He feels like a petulant housewife who spent all day cooking a dinner that her husband never came home to eat. He guesses that's exactly how he sounds, too.

Eddie turns his sad eyes on Richie. "I didn't even look at my phone until like fifteen minutes ago. I called as soon as I saw them."

"I know, I know." He shakes his head. "'I'm sorry, 'm being a dick."

Eddie smirks. "Imagine that."

Richie breathes out his nose and wills himself not to be angry. Always understanding, never upset. Always with a joke but never with a complaint. How he's been all year, all his life with Eddie, if he's honest with himself. Never too emotional or serious, just in case it overwhelms. "I'll let you get back. Just let me know when you book your flight, I'll clean the guest room."

"The guest room?" Eddie's face falls. "I have to sleep in my own room? You're that mad that I forgot to call?"

"No, it's not- I just didn't want to assume-"

"Or is it because I'm out with Matt?" Eddie continues like Richie hadn't even spoken. "Because I barely even know him, Rich. I was just in a good mood and we both needed to eat. It doesn't- I don't know if he's even gay."

Richie feels green. "He's cute," he says neutrally. "He's there. You're drunk."

"Richie."

He shakes his head, rubs his palms against the denim on his knees. "I know, I know. I'm being stupid because I miss you and I missed today and I- I'm sorry."

Eddie eyes go big and wistful. "I would never- Rich, I've spent the entire time since I've met him waxing poetic about you. Besides business shit, you're the only thing we've talked about. He's probably getting sick of it, honestly."

The sudden leap of his stomach makes him want to puke. "It's okay, Eds, you don't have to-"

"Richie," Eddie cuts him off. He pulls the phone closer to his face. "Richie, I'm crazy about you. You know, sometimes-" He laughs, blushes, glances away for a second. Richie wants to look at him forever. "Somtimes after we hang up, I jerk off to the memory of the sound of your voice. It's kind of pathetic. I'm completely gone on you, is the point I'm making."

"I-" he stops himself. He'd sworn at least a hundred times over the passed year that he wasn't going to say it until Eddie is in front of him. And he's going to keep that promise. "You're- you're everything, sweetheart. I- You know how I feel about you, don't you, Eddie?"

Eddie's smile is blinding. "Yeah, I think you waiting on me for almost a year while I got my shit together is a pretty big clue."

Richie grins back.

"I have to go settle the tab," Eddie says after a moment.

"You could call me," Richie tells him, "when you get back to your room. Jerk off to my actual voice, instead of the memory. I could say something worth jerking off to."

Pink rises on Eddie's cheekbones and flushes down onto his neck, right where Richie wants to bite him. "Thanks, now I have to go back in there at half mast."

"Oh, you are so very welcome. No need to thank me. The pleasure's all mine, really." The sad thing is, he isn't lying. Nothing gets him going faster than the mere idea that Eddie wants him. The evidence of it, the confession, has him rock hard in his pants already.

"You're insufferable."

"Insatiable, Edward. The word is insatiable."

Eddie rolls his eyes with a chuckle. "I'm going to call you in 45 minutes," he promises.

Richie nods. "I'll have my script ready. The never ending list of things I'd do to corrupt the pure and innocent Eddie Kaspbrak."

"Insufferable!" He pauses, still smiling even though he's griping. "45 minutes."

"I'll be here, Eds." He flushes with the honesty of it. "I'll always be here."

#i've saved this for months bc i didn't think it was good enough to post #and bc part two didn't do well note wise but guess what!#i like it and i. don't care.#reddie #it 2019 #otp: i'll show you a staph infection

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mrs-dr-reid · 3 years

Text

The Girl Behind the Desk

(A Criminal Minds Fic)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Requested by @imagining-in-the-margins; “Spencer goes to the same library whenever he can. In part because he likes to read the encyclopedias, but also because he’s in love with one of the girls who works there. Unfortunately, he’s also convinced she doesn’t know he exists.”

Genre: Super fluffy, doods

Warnings: Pining, I guess? (is that a thing that needs a warning? I dunno, maybe)

A/N: Okay, this was so fun to write? Oh my god. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Word Count: 1858

———————————————————————

Spencer didn’t know why he kept going there. Well, he takes that back. He kind of knows why he keeps going to a very particular library in the D.C. area: There’s a very robust collection of encyclopedias there that he can go and read whenever he has time off from the BAU. Therein lies the kicker: he’s already read the entire collection at least half a dozen times. So why does he keep going there if he’s already read the one thing there that interests him?

The answer is quite simple... the encyclopedia section is within viewing distance of the check-out desk, and whenever he goes in to read them, there’s always a beautiful young woman there with shiny Y/H/C hair and striking Y/E/C eyes checking out books, answering the questions of other library patrons, and taking the reshelving cart to some other section of the library. He’s never plucked up the courage to go over and talk to her, but he knew from overhearing the conversations she had with her coworkers that her first name was Y/N.

Spencer’s played out a thousand interactions with her in his mind, but he’s never gone over to the desk to actually play one of them out. So for the past month and a half, he’s just been sitting in the corner by himself pretending to read a book while staring at the beautiful librarian from across the room like a lovesick idiot. And he was a lovesick idiot, because he couldn’t recall a single time in his life where he was utterly captivated by a woman he’d never even spoken a word to before.

He noticed every little thing about her: the way she would smile at young children who would plunk a Magic Treehouse or Percy Jackson book on the counter and stand on their tiptoes to hand her their library card, then give them a small lollipop from the glass bowl on the desk before they left, the way she laughed when one of her coworkers told a really lame library joke, the way she could pull her hair into a neat bun while she was working without one of those hair donut things he’s seen JJ use a couple times, and the way there was always a skip in her step and a song in her head when she was pushing the reshelving cart to whatever section she needed to go to.

She never looked over at his lonely little table because she was busy focusing on the more busy sections of the library, like the magazines, the research computers, and the children’s books, so the logical half of Spencer’s brain managed to convince him that she had no idea he even existed and that he really had no business being in the building. Still, the other more fantastical half of his brain kept him rooted in his plush library chair on the very slim chance that one day she’d look over and at least give him a smile. He highly doubted that would ever happen, but a guy can hope.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Y/N could tell that the guy in a purple sweater vest with unruly brown hair and thoughtful brown eyes sitting at a table near the encyclopedias wasn’t really there to read all of them every time he came in, because she was pretty sure she saw him read every single one of them and put them all back in the right place in the span of a few hours the first day he came into her library.

Sometimes when she was refilling the candy bowl, she would steal a quick glance over at him and see him absentmindedly flipping through the pages of an encyclopedia she knows she’s seen him read in record breaking time with a furrowed brow, because she had to admit he was handsome in his own nerdy little way. And she’d always feel her stomach flip when he pushed his hair away from his eyes or adjusted his tie, because his hands look HUGE, even from far away, and she knows that if they ever shook hands, his would completely swallow hers.

She only knew his name because he answered his phone one time, and she heard him say, “Dr. Spencer Reid,” which made her raise her eyebrows in amazement, because he couldn’t have been much older than she was and he was a doctor. She could tell by the way he dressed that there was no way he was a medical doctor, so she assumed that he was a college professor with a proclivity for literature.

He came into her library sporadically over a month and a half period, and when he was gone for long lapses in time, Y/N assumed he was doing lectures either at the school he worked at or at nearby schools as a guest speaker. But whenever she looked over at the empty table where he usually made himself at home, she couldn’t help but miss him, which was utterly ridiculous because how could you miss someone you’ve never even spoken to? She then made a pact with herself: the next time she saw him come in, she was going to find some excuse or another to talk to him.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Spencer got back from a really rough case, and he figured that a trip to his favorite library might lift his spirits. He walked in through the doors, expecting it to be a normal session of “pretending to read so I can stare at the desk girl”, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a voice he’d only heard from a distance say, “We just got in a couple new ones about fungi and spores, in case you wanted to look at something new.”

He turned around to see the woman he’d been admiring from afar for nearly the last two months with her award-winning smile on her face. She pointed at his table and said, “I noticed you liked hanging out by the encyclopedias, so I thought I’d let you know if I caught you before you hunkered down over there,” making him struggle to find the right words to say. He finally settled on, “Ummm, okay. Cool. Thank you for letting me know,” and smiled before starting to walk away.

Y/N knew that was her last chance, so she said, “I’m Y/N, by the way. Y/N L/N,” and held out her hand, so Spencer hesitated before grabbing it and saying, “Hi, Y/N. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. Sorry, but, handshakes aren’t normally my thing. You see, the number of pathogens passed during a handshake is outrageous. It’s actually...,” making Y/N say, “Safer to kiss, right? I’ve dealt with my fair share of germaphobes who whip out that fact,” before shooting him a wink.

Spencer didn’t know how to react to that, but he knows for a fact he went pink in the cheeks. Y/N continued, “And I already knew your name. I heard you answer your phone once. You’ve never checked out any books, so I just thought you were too busy with teaching to remember to return them and never went over to ask you about it,” while she started grabbing new books to stamp and stack.

Spencer didn’t really know how to respond to that, but he remembered how to speak English, and he said, “You think I’m a teacher?”, so she said, “Yeah. I mean, based on the way you dress and the fact that you’re slightly too germaphobic, there’s no way you’re a medical doctor. I figured you were a college professor, more specifically in the English department. How close am I?”, while sitting down in her swivel chair.

Spencer was impressed by her profiler-level deduction, so he said, “I’d say you were 70% accurate. I’m not a medical doctor, but I do have three PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering, 2 BAs in Psychology and Sociology, and I’m working on a BA in Philosophy. I am a college professor, but I teach Criminology. I’m also a Supervisory Special Agent with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” which made Y/N’s eyebrows fly up. She said, “Seriously?! All this time, I’ve been sneaking peeks at a super genius pretending to read an encyclopedia in the corner for the past two months?”, which made Spencer’s sly smile drop off his face.

He said, “You knew I was pretending?”, so Y/N grabbed her water bottle and said, “Yeah. You breezed through the entire collection in less than 3 hours the first day you came in, then you put every single one back in its rightful place. I even double checked after you left, and I didn’t have to swap a single book into the right place,” before taking a sip of water. Spencer said, “Well, I guess that’s what happens when you have an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute,” which nearly made Y/N choke on her water.

Spencer’s eyes widened in concern, and he said, “Oh my god, are you okay?”, but she waved him off and said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting that,” before setting her water down. She checked her watch, then said, “Okay, my shift ends in a couple hours. And knowing you you’ll probably finish all those new encyclopedias by then, so how about when I clock out, you and I can go get coffee or something?”, which took Spencer completely by surprise. He said, “Uhhhhh, sure! Yeah, sure! That sounds great!”, his voice betraying him by cracking awkwardly.

Clearly Y/N thought it was cute, because she grabbed a pink sticky note and a clicker pen from the cup on the desk, jotted something down, then handed it to him before saying, “Be sure to think of some interesting fungus facts to tell me later, Dr. Brainiac,” winking, and heading off to reshelve some books. Spencer stood there awestruck for a solid minute before shaking himself and going to his usual spot. He finally looked down at what she had written, and he felt himself go completely red, because on the note was a series of numbers that could only be her cell phone number, an address that could only be hers, and the words “call me sometime, Boy Genius” written in a gorgeous looping scrawl.

Spencer looked up again to see her talking with one of her coworkers behind the desk, so he pulled out his phone and punched in her number before typing “Is texting okay, too?” and pressing send. He saw her pull out her phone, and she looked up and gave him a playful eye roll before typing something and putting her phone back in her pocket. His phone buzzed again, so he checked it to see that she had sent back “Of course it is, Dr. Reid ;)”, making him smile before going to grab those encyclopedias she was talking about.

———————————————————————

Tag List: @agenthotchner, @hurricanejjareau, @xgoldentigerlilyx, @therestisconfettis, @less-intelligent-spencerreid, @aryaarathornson, @thomasgibsonfan01

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

#criminal minds #reader insert #one shot #dr spencer reid

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ickle-ronniekins · 3 years

Text

meet you there

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY CONSENT. likes/reblogs/comments are perfectly fine!

prompt: this actually wasn’t a request but it was a fic title prompt from my 4k sleepover that @accioxreparo sent my way -- the title she came up with was ‘meet you there’ and i’ve picked freddie. you can view the original idea here, if you please. general reminder that my requests are currently CLOSED

pairing: fred x ravenclaw!reader

word count: 2.6k

warning(s): character death

A/N: i’m real sorry

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @acciotwinz @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight @hannolannno @msmimimerton @oh-for-merlins-sake | message me to be added or removed! [lots of tags not working for me today idk i’m sorry!]

Ages 8 and 7

“Freddie! Did you see? Did you see what I did?”

Eight year old Fred squealed with delight as you did a tiny little backflip on your broom in the air outside the Burrow. The pinks and purples of the sky were melting together, and he knew that night was growing nearer. “I did, Y/N! Can’t wait ‘til we both get to Hogwarts and can play Quidditch together. You’re going to make a fantastic Seeker. That was bloody brilliant!”

“Frederick Weasley!”

Molly’s voice was shrill, but she peered out through the window of her kitchen and shook her head, as if she were trying to guess how many times she’d scolded Fred already today. She sighed, choosing to fight a different battle than that of his language. “It’s supper time, Freddie.”

The both of you flew gently to the ground and landed. You tossed Fred the extra broomstick and wiped the sweat from your forehead. “See you tomorrow then?”

“Nah, later,” Fred replied. He nodded toward the other end of the large field in front of his house. “After dinner, let’s go up the hill and look at the stars for a bit. My dad says there are supposed to be wicked constellations tonight!”

You giggled before pulling your hair back off of your shoulders and turning to head back toward your own house just around the bend. “Don’t let you mum see you!”

“Don’t worry,” Fred told you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I won’t. Meet you there!”

Ages 11 and 10

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. How come Fred would get to start at Hogwarts without you? Your mum told you it was because he was already eleven. You still had a few months until your birthday. But it still wasn’t fair!

You slumped on the couch next to the empty fireplace as Fred attempted to bring his huge trunk down the steps. They both hit the floor with a loud thump!

“Bloody help me, won’t you?”

“Not when you talk to me like that,” you frowned. It didn’t take long before the two of you were erupting into giggles, though.

Fred placed himself beside you and gently elbowed you in the ribs. “Hey, don’t be so sad. You’ll be at Hogwarts in just a year’s time. And besides, aren’t you excited that I’ll know my way around the castle, and I’ll be able to tell you all the places to avoid and the best times to sneak out of the common rooms?”

You huffed and kicked his foot before beginning to tug at the hem of your shirt. “You wouldn’t! You’ll get me into all sorts of shenanigans, and.. and.. probably detention.. and probably turn my hair bright green or something!”

“Only if you’re placed into Slytherin,” Fred grinned. The sunlight flooding the windows highlighted the dimple on the right side of his face. “So it’d better be Gryffindor.”

You rolled your eyes. “And how are you so sure you’re going to be placed in Gryffindor, mister?”

Fred pointed at himself, as if to say, isn’t it obvious? “The whole lot of my family has been in Gryffindor for years! George and I aren’t going to break that streak. What kind of Weasley d’you think I am?”

“The annoying kind?”

“That’s plain rude,” Fred replied before thwacking you with a throw pillow. The two of you began hitting one another incessantly before Mr. Weasley’s calls came from outside. It was time to go. You were embarrassed at how quickly the tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned toward the fireplace so Fred wouldn’t see.

“Hey, it’ll be alright,” his voice was softer than before. “When you get to Hogwarts next year, I’ll show you all the secret passageways and let you know what the best sweets are, and I promise to not turn your hair bright green. Even if you are placed in Slytherin.”

A gentle smile tugged at your mouth, but it didn’t stop the tears from coming still. Fred continued when you didn’t, “I’ll miss you, you know.”

You sniffled and bit down on your wobbling lip. “I’ll miss you, too. Have fun playing Quidditch.”

Fred’s eyes went bright as the two of you wandered outside to meet the rest of the Weasleys. “That reminds me! Be sure to keep practicing here, yeah? With Ron and Ginny. I reckon mum’ll let them play a little bit with you. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Fred tugged his trunk and placed it into the back of Mr. Weasley’s Ford Anglia before pulling you into a bone crushing hug. Mr. Weasley was calling his name again. Fred gently elbowed you in the ribs once more before bopping your nose with his finger. His grin was brighter than the sun. “Meet you there!”

Ages 15 and 14

You stared in the mirror at your very obnoxious coloured blue hair. It resembled that of your Ravenclaw tie. You so wanted to be angry at him. You wanted to be angry, but you had to admit -- he was kind of brilliant.

As promised, he hadn’t turned your hair bright green when you’d arrived at Hogwarts a year after him, especially after you’d been placed in Ravenclaw, and not in Slytherin. He forgave you for not being placed in Gryffindor, though. He’d said he was excited to pummel Ravenclaw to the ground in Quidditch, anyway.

You knew the counter spell, but you kind of wanted to show off this new look of yours. Plus, wouldn’t he be absolutely floored if you waltzed into the Great Hall, not batting an eyelash at anyone who was brave enough to give you a look?

You plopped yourself down at the Gryffindor table during breakfast after making a few heads turn -- including three sixty head turns from the house ghosts. George spat out his tea and was not-so-subtle when it came to trying to hide his laughter. Fred raked his bottom lip through his teeth and smiled brightly.

“Ah, good morning,” he said before turning back to his porridge, “and how are we?”

“We are brilliant,” you picked a piece of his toast off of his plate and bit into it. When he threaded his eyebrows together and tried to get it back from you, you just stretched your arm back. “Oh, I’m sorry, is this yours? I figured, you know, since my hair now matches the colour of my robes, I was allowed to take your breakfast since you’ve been a foul little git.”

At first, his eyes widened in horror. But when he saw the faint smile on your lips as you continued to scarf down his breakfast, his shoulders relaxed. He raised his eyebrows, “Was worried you might be mad at me for a second there.”

“Mad? Never.” you replied. “Now if it had been green, well, that’d be a different story. But I’ve got to say, Weasley, I reckon blue suits me just fine.” You flipped your hair over your shoulder and started to laugh.

Fred yanked the half eaten slice of toast out of your hands and shoved the rest of it into his mouth. Your jaw dropped dramatically as he licked his lips and took a long slug of his tea. “Couldn’t agree more, Y/N,” he began and you rolled your eyes. Always the jokester, he was. But when he looked at you with a new type of admiration and serenity in his eyes, you froze. “You could have blue hair and purple eyebrows and I’d still think you were the most beautiful girl on this earth.”

It was just a small moment, one shared between the two of you, when he grinned so earnestly you swore he might spill out all his heart’s desires to you. But as quickly as it appeared, it had vanished, and he went back to wiggling his eyebrows at you teasingly and eating his porridge. “Hey, wanna run some Quidditch drills after this?”

“Sure,” you replied a little too quickly, trying to catch your breath. You stood up from the table to get some breakfast of your own. “Meet you there. Oh, but first, Freddie?”

“Yeah?”

You smirked. “Before anything else happens today, it’s my turn to dye your hair.”

He thought on this for a moment before reaching out for a high five. He loved how you’d come to negotiate with him over the years. He guessed it was from being on the receiving end of tons of his pranks. He swallowed down his nerves and replied, “Deal.”

Ages 17 and 16

“Fred! Bloody hell, what’s gotten into you?”

“Just have to get you alone, don’t I?” he smirked.

The two of you were stumbling giddily, alone in a back corner of the desolate girls’ dormitory in the Ravenclaw common room. Most everyone were either in lessons or out on the grounds on this gorgeous day, but the two of you chose to be locked inside, for you didn’t exactly know how much time you’d be able to spend alone before he left. Especially with Toad Face breathing down your necks every chance she got.

His lips were locked with yours for what seemed like hours. It was slow and easy and comforting before he reluctantly pulled away and started tracing circles onto your hands, trying as he might to lot let you see the glassiness in his eyes.

“Promise me something,”

“What?”

He sighed. “Next year, bring home the cup. You were robbed this year, love. Bloody Umbridge banning us from matches, and now the entire schedule is all wonky. Bring it home. But I swear if you tell any Gryffindors I said that, I’ll deny it.”

You raked your bottom lip through your teeth before poking him in the stomach. “You? A Gryffindor, hoping a Ravenclaw wins the cup? What would the other students think?”

“I reckon they’d think I’m out of my mind.”

You snorted. “Well, yeah, you are.”

The laughter faded away after a few moments, and Fred peered lovingly into your eyes. You could tell how much his nerves were eating at him -- leaving this all behind, not finishing school. The wrath of his mother. The unknown of how the shop will do. You traced the freckles on his cheeks and nose.

“You’ll be okay, you know. Actually, more than okay. It’ll be bloody brilliant, alright?”

Fred swallowed thickly before squeezing your hips. “You promise?”

“I promise. Do you promise to wait for me once you get there? I’ve got some exams to finish up.” You winked.

Fred laughed lightly and pulled you into his chest before placing light kisses onto your head. He took a long, deep breath and continued to caress your hair as you both tried not to think about the upcoming weeks. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried with all of your might to focus on the sound of his heartbeat, but each thump of his pulse was just another reminder that you were one second closer to him leaving.

“I promise,” he echoed you. “I’ll meet you there, won’t I?”

Ages 20 and 19

“Of course we’ll win! We’re bloody brilliant, aren’t we? Reckon Voldy won’t even be able to stand a chance, ruddy pumpkin head, he is.”

“Fred, please, just -- can’t you be serious for one moment?”

“Haven’t got a serious bone in my body, I’m afraid.”

“Freddie.”

His sigh had sounded different. It had a strange sense of urgency to it. He turned over in bed, took your head in his hands and pressed his lips together. He began to gently caress his thumb over your jawline. He’d never looked so serious in all his life. “I promise that everything will be alright. But you’ve got to try and get some sleep, darling.”

“But I can’t --”

“You’ve got to try. I’m right here.”

You swallowed down your tears and nuzzled your face into his chest. You breathed in the all too familiar smell of Molly’s washing detergent, and squeezed his fingers in yours. The two of you lay wide away in the darkness of the night, your breathing finally in sync with one another.

“When this is all over, we’ll be a proper family, alright? You and me. I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before laughing again. “You didn’t really expect one of us to leave without getting married first, did you?”

He groaned a bit when you teasingly punched him square in the stomach.

That was just last evening.

How had everything changed so drastically in less than twenty four hours? Why had those few precious hours in bed gone by so quickly?

Why hadn’t Fred been able to keep his promise?

You and George both had your arms wrapped tightly around one another, probably to help one another stay upright. You didn’t quite know how you were able to still walk, not when your body felt like all of the blood and oxygen had been drained from it. The two of you fell to the floor beside him; Fred’s body was still warm, his skin so soft, as though he were simply asleep.

You wanted to go back in time. Any amount of time, just to get more of it with him. Just to hear him say he loved you, to tell you he couldn’t wait until you both would get married, just to hear him say your name.

He’d managed to fight without gaining but a scratch. His hair was still perfectly messy, just like it always was, his hands folded neatly across his chest. It was miraculous, really, that there were so many others here, in this room, alive, who looked far worse than he did. And yet it was him who was dead.

It was him who’d had his life stolen out from underneath him, like a cruel joke.

You turned to George, blurry through your vision, and choked out the only few words you were brave enough to speak. “He didn’t keep his promise.”

George dropped his head and let his hoarse cries rattle through the Great Hall. He squeezed your hand and lay across his brother, begging him to wake up, just wake up. You tried to pull George back to his feet, but his body felt much heavier than it had just a few hours ago. Percy pulled him into a hug and let George cry, very similarly to the time when you were all very young and he’d fallen off of his broom and broken his ankle. And who had made him feel better? Fred, of course.

Fred looked so tranquil, it was almost terrifying to look at him. And yet, you couldn’t look away. You tried, through your blurry vision, to memorize everything about him -- the arch of his eyebrows, the way his eyelashes brushed gently against his cheeks, the spattering of freckles across his nose, the way his one ear was slightly crooked from the other. You wanted to remember the way his fingers felt interwoven with yours, like they’d been crafted that way because they were meant to be there, the way his lips always felt so soft. You ran a hand through his hair to try and push down that one stubborn part, but it sprang back up, just like always, and you managed a small chuckle. You couldn’t forget. You just couldn’t. You didn’t want to forget a single thing about him, and you were afraid that as soon as they took his body away, that you would.

You traced a gentle line over his freckles again. It must’ve been hours that you’d been lying there, because he felt cold now. Your body froze at the contact and you had to use every single ounce of strength you somehow had left to not crumble to pieces. But you managed to place one last, gentle kiss to his forehead as the sunlight of a new day flooded the Great Hall.

“I’ll meet you there one day, Freddie.”

#fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins fanfiction #fred weasley angst #hp imagine #hp fanfiction

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a-secret-bolton-vampire · 3 years

Text

Hannibal Season 4 Resource

Taking a break from ASOIAF to instead talk about my favourite show, Hannibal. We're coming up on the 6th year anniversary of the series finale, and I still miss the show every day. Even though it ended in a satisfying way, I still really want to see what season 4 would've been like. Fortunately, we have some hints on what season 4 would be about, and I figured I'd make a resource for all the stuff we know about it, since I'm bored and I like sharing.

Will Graham's Most Interesting Chapter

“There is something in the novel Hannibal that has not been done in any of the adaptations and I would love to explore that with Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. I’m hoping that someday, whether it’s a year from now … two years from now … that we will continue to get to tell that story. I feel like if Will Graham did survive that plunge, his most interesting chapter is yet to be told.”

- From Bryan Fuller in 2015

"Bryan pitched it to me … well, he, described to me in an overview with what he wanted to do with the 4th season, had there been an interest, and it was really fantastic. It was a complete restart, without describing it — because who knows, God knows, maybe some way we may be able to do it in the future — but it took us back to the first season in a very unexpected way, and made total sense of that cliffhanger ending; it seemed justified. It was born out of a part of one of the books so it was still coming out of that universe, but it wasn’t the Clarice / Silence of the Lambs storyline."

- From Hugh Dancy in 2016

"It was not so much about a rebranding as [being] able to go back to earlier dynamics through a brand new prism, which was Hannibal and Will getting to know each other from a different state of mind. I’d want to play point-of-view in a dramatic way. I think I’ve said that season four is Inception meets Angel Heart. And that means that there’s going to be considerable mind-palacing and obfuscating of reality, or at least the perception of reality. And the thing that I’m most excited about is, because there’s going to be such a mental landscape to explore, that means actors who play characters who have previously died can manifest in the mess of Will Graham’s brain."

- From Brayn Fuller in 2020

"Because of the nature of what would be happening in season 4 in terms of the grander manipulations that Hannibal has on Will Graham’s mind, I don’t think Hannibal would want to have sex with Will if Will wasn’t in his right mind, and Will won’t be in his right mind in Season 4."

- From Bryan Fuller in 2020

So Will was going to be in a very interesting place. I'm not sure what exactly this means, if this is full blown Murder Husbands or not, or perhaps Will in a catatonic depression and delving into alcoholism that he's implies to do in the novels after Red Dragon? I really want to know what this means.

Hannibal and Will in Cuba

He also said he imagines a fourth season as “sunny and sweaty as compared to the cold harsh realities of Toronto.”

- From Bryan Fuller in 2020

In a twitter thread, Bryan Fuller asked fans what the planned cultural cuisine for season 4 would be, and it's implied that it would be Cuban. There are more allusions to Cuba (such as the sunny and sweaty quote above), as well as this from the partial transcription of FannibalFest Sofacon webinar last year.

FannibalFest: Oh, I’m supposed to ask, right now, where do you imagine Hannibal and Will, right now? Before we continue. This is an important question. Bryan Fuller: Cuba. Martha De Laurentiis: Listen to the man who knows. Cuba. FannibalFest: Right, so they’re still in Cuba.

So they're in Cuba! It sounds a bit like the ending of the novel Hannibal with Hannibal and Clarice running off to Buenos Aires, but instead of Argentina it's the more northern part of Latin America. Given that the show has often been set in very cold, dark, gloomy settings (East Coast of the US) that fits perfectly with the dark tone of the series, I wonder how being in a bright, sunny location would contrast to a very dark tone.

Alana and Margot

"There’s a whole storyline that I want to do with Katharine Isabelle’s character, Margot Verger, who now is the mother of the Verger heir and in control of the Verger meatpacking industry. I wanted her to be like Joan Crawford at Pepsi saying “Don’t Fuck with me fellas” and just humanize all the Verger meatpacking plants and turn them over to PETA-approved [authority]. That would definitely be marbled through the season, Margot Verger taking down the meat industry as a hot, powerful lesbian."

- From Bryan Fuller in 2017

I tried finding a source for this, and it's hard to find and it's repeated often, but Chilton would have gone back to running the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. If anyone could find a source for that, that'd be grand.

I think there's a lot of interesting things that could be done with Margot trying to humanize the meatpacking industry, especially in a show where cannibalism is a recurring central theme.

The Silence of the Lambs

Fuller really wants to adapt Silence of the Lambs, and he has certain ideas for it, specifically when it comes to Clarice:

"Well, there’s a couple of ways to go. There’s the [Elliot] Page way, which I think would be fantastic and more kind of in line with the Clarice that we all know. But I know I would also like to explore who Clarice would be from a different racial background. There’s something about being poor and white in the South but there’s something else about being poor and black in the South, and I think it could be the necessary gateway into the character, to make Clarice as much our own signature character as we tried to make Will Graham."

- 2015

“I am imagining a parallel structure of Hannibal in the institution, with a severely scarred Chilton, now having returned to his post, and juxtaposing that, back in the heyday of Hannibal as a psychiatrist, perhaps even earlier than we met him the first time, when he had Benjamin Raspail as a patient, and weave that story in and around the modern day Silence of the Lambs tale as we know it.”

- 2015

“I think the film adaptation is a perfect film, but there’s a lot of interesting nooks and crannies to explore in a television series. I hope we get to tell the story…I think, ideally for the cast, it would be as a miniseries, here and there. Let’s do six to eight episodes of that, and six to eight episodes over here. And do it as an irregular thing.”

- 2016

Now it should be noted that despite some headlines, Silence of the Lambs is not the plan for season 4, but rather some time after it, as season 4 would be covering an aspect of the books that has never been depicted onscreen before.

Anyways, that's all the info I could find! I hope one day we will get a season 4, even if currently I am not very hopeful. I just want my Murder Husbands back :(.

#hannibal #we need hannibal season 4 #hannibal season 4 #hannigram #will graham #alana bloom #margot verger

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riversofmars · 3 years

Note

I have an idea for a prompt! How about 13 becomes human again for whatever reason, she meets River, and without either knowing the other still manage to get together?

Thank you for this brilliant prompt! Not gonna lie, I was thinking coffee shop AU initially but I think I’ve come up with something better!

For River this is set post Manhattan pre Darillium while she’s teaching at Luna U, she hasn't met 13 and obviously doesn't recognise her. 13 - for whatever reason as per the prompt - is under the influence of the Chameleon Arch and human, not remembering who she is.

Hope you like it!

Rating: G

Word Count: 1800

AO3

Stuff of Legends

“What are you doing in here?“

The Doctor jumped when a voice cut through the silence at Luna University Library. It was late, very late, in fact. 2am was fast approaching and the library had been empty apart from her. She had chosen the time deliberately, she had banked on people being asleep or off partying for fresher’s week.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was…“ She looked around anxiously to see a figure approaching along the rows of shelves.

“You know this area is restricted, right?“ A woman came into view, wild curly hair, silky blouse and a keen sparkle in her eyes. There as a sort of amusement in her voice and she tilted her head as she looked her up and down. The Doctor got the sense she wouldn’t tell on her, at least not yet.

“Yeah, well, uhh… my archive request was denied so I thought…“ She didn’t really know what to say. She knew access to this section of the Library was restricted but she had come a long way for it and when her request was denied by the Academy of Time Travel, she had decided to go about it another way.

“You thought you would sneak in here instead?“ The woman concluded with a smirk.

“Well, they didn’t really give an explanation so…“ The Doctor scratched the back of her head. She was anxious about having been caught but so far, the other woman didn’t seem to mind too much. Perhaps she had snuck in here as well.

“Oh there was this incident, quite a long time ago now, a student snuck into the Academy’s archives and took an ancient vortex manipulator to have a sneak peak at her future essay papers… I mean, you can’t plagiarise yourself so they could hardly expel her but they did get a lot pickier with admitting people to their archives.“ The woman explained pleasantly.

“Well, firstly, that’s very clever of the student and secondly, very unreasonable to restrict everyone else’s access to the archives when some of us have actual research to do.“ The Doctor huffed, somewhere between admiration and annoyance. “Surely the student in question has long graduated…“

“And is a professor now. Professor River Song.“ River extended her hand to her with a smirk and the Doctor’s face fell.

“Oh, uhh… you’re a professor? You work here, I…I shouldn’t be here…“ She stammered, realising her mistake. This woman was staff! And she had caught her red handed.

“No, you shouldn’t be and yet you are.“ River observed sounding surprisingly unbothered about it which sort of made sense if she had been the student in question. The Doctor wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or worried. “What are you doing?“ River asked curiously and looked to the books the Doctor had gathered on a desk.

“Uh… just some research…“ The Doctor answered nervously.

“What are you studying?“ River picked up a book that she knew well. It was one of the more comprehensive guides on supposed Timelord meddling through time.

“Well, not technically a student…“ The Doctor admitted. She wasn’t sure what to say. This woman was thoroughly confusing. She was a professor here but also seemed to have an affinity for bending the rules. Could she trust her not to rat her out?

“So you didn’t just sneak into the Academy’s library section but into the university in general?“ River sounded impressed.

“No, I mean, I’m not a student, I’m a doctor, visiting lecturer… Luna University is meant to have the greatest collection of Timelord artefacts so…“ The Doctor felt the need to set the record straight.

“A doctor, huh? You sure you’re old enough?“ River smirked and the Doctor found herself blushing under her appraising gaze. Was she flirting with her?

“You don’t exactly strike me as a stuffy old professor either.“ She retorted before she could think better of it.

“Touché.“ River laughed lightly and looked back at the collection of books, scriptures and star charts. “Why the interests in the Timelords? Most people don’t even believe them to be real.“ She observed picking up another book to read the back of it.

“I don’t know, I just… personal interest, I guess. Something about them just intrigues me.“ The Doctor replied growing more self conscious. She felt a little silly. A lot of academics looked down on those paddling theories that the Timelords actually existed. Most people believed them to be the stuff of legends. While time travel was certainly real, the idea of almost celestial beings able to live forever seemed too fantastical to be true. While there was certainly something the legends were based on, there was no way of knowing which bits were fact and which were fiction.

“What’s your field?“ River asked curiously putting the book down.

“Astrophysics.“ The Doctor answered slowly. “Yours?“

“Archeology.“ River replied in amusement. “I’m much more likely to take an interest in this sort of thing than you, how do the Timelords relate to your research?“ It was a fair question.

“Star charts… well, that’s where I started. Everything else doesn’t really relate. I’m just… curious, they’re fascinating.“ The Doctor admitted, sticking her hands in the pockets of her coat before shrugging.

“Well, the stuff of legends always is.“ River chuckled.

“Unfortunately, I’m not likely to getting any answers here.“ The Doctor sighed feeling a little bit more comfortable now. It didn’t look like this woman would tell on her but it seemed to have been a wasted trip regardless.

“Answers to what?“ River asked and the Doctor shrugged again, with a little laugh this time:

“You know, I don’t even know… I can’t really explain it… never mind.“ She waved it off. “I can’t read it anyway, whatever this language is, I don’t understand it.“ She opened one of the books and held it out to River, pointing out the circular writing.

“It’s High Gallifreyan.“ River answered as she took the book off her. “The language of the Timelords, that’s what it’s called.“ Her eyes skimmed the page.

“You make it sound like they actually existed.“ The Doctor chuckled. “Is that your field of archeology? Mystical civilisations?“

“Perhaps.“ River winked. “Would you like some help?“ She handed the book back over with a smile.

“You can… you can read this?“ The Doctor exclaimed in shock, surprise and delight all at once.

“Don’t tell anyone.“ River chuckled and looked around to check no-one had heard her.

“How?!“ The Doctor didn’t know what to say. “How do you know how to read this? It’s not like you can just take language classes in this, can you?“ She was in awe.

“My husband taught me.“ River revealed with a sly sort of smile.

“Your husband?“ The Doctor’s face fell, she didn’t even know why she felt disappointed but she did. She had only just met this woman.

“Is that disappointment I hear in your voice?“ River had picked up on it right away and the Doctor blushed scarlet.

“What? No, I mean…“ She stuttered. “Uhm, your husband… does that mean, are you telling me you’re married to a… Timelord?“ The Doctor tried to deflect.

“If you presume that to be his one defining feature, I suppose so.“ River shrugged.

“So they are real? Timelords are actually…“ The Doctor didn’t know what to say.

“He is also the last Timelord. Or was… I’m not actually sure where he is these days, we haven’t seen each other in a while.“ River sighed with another shrug.

“But you just said he’s your husband.“ The Doctor frowned, she wasn’t making a whole lot of sense.

“He’s not the type to allow himself to be held too tightly.“ River smiled though the Doctor was sure there was a sadness behind her eyes. “We… things are complicated, when you’re married to a time traveller. For all I know I might never see him again.“

“And you’re just fine with that?“ The Doctor asked softly.

“Like you say, if he’s really a Timelord, he’s the stuff of legends. An ageless god. You don’t expect the sunset to admire you back.“ River retorted returning her attention to the books on the table, she ran her fingers over one of the ancient star charts absentmindedly.

“That sounds painful.“ The Doctor mused sharing in her sadness.

“Makes you appreciate the shared times all the more.“ River grinned as her wistfulness passed and the Doctor smiled and nodded, she understood. “To be honest, I don’t like being tied down either so we suit each other very well.“ River smirked gaining her swagger back.

“I see.“ The Doctor chuckled.

“That means if you would like to get a drink sometime, or if you would like some help translating these, I’m available.“ River elaborated when her initial statement didn’t have the desired effect of flustering the blonde. She looked up from the star charts to the Doctor waiting for the penny to drop. Her explanation did the trick as the Doctor went red in the face again.

“Really? I mean… you’re not… he’s not gonna…“ She stammered.

“Every time could be the last time, every Christmas could be last Christmas, that’s the thing about time, something you learn as a time traveller, you have to learn to live in the present.“ River winked and reached out and ran her fingers along the yellow braces the Doctor was wearing. “You do remind me a lot of him, you know, I don’t know… probably just my imagination. Or the fact that I’m really very attracted to you.“ She smirked.

“You’re uhh… very forward…“ The Doctor swallowed nervously.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.“ River’s confidence faltered for a moment, genuine concern came over her. “If I misread the situations, I…“

“No, no, it’s fine, I mean… I’d like a drink. With you.“ The Doctor burst out quickly, she didn’t want her to change her mind. “I’d like to go for a drink with you and spend some time together…“

“Good. I mean, great!“ River grinned, relieved. “There is this nice little bar across campus… You don’t need these books, I can tell you everything you could possibly want to know.“

“Lead the way, Professor.“ The Doctor nodded, a grin spreading across her face.

“I don’t think you ever told me your name, what do I call you, Doctor?“ River asked mirroring her expression.

“Maybe just that. I know it probably doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but I never really… felt comfortable with my name… Jane Smith… just doesn’t mean anything to me. Most people just call me Doctor.“ The Doctor shrugged with an apologetic smile. She wasn’t sure if River would understand but she thought it best to be honest.

“Is that so…“ River gave her a smile, her expression incredibly hard to read. “It’s a funny old universe, isn’t it.“ She held out her hand to the Doctor. “You never know what the future holds, you just live it.“

#doctor who #fanfiction #prompt #space wives #river song #Thirteen #thirteenth doctor #river x thirteen #river x the doctor #yowzah #Alex Kingston #Jodie whittaker #femslash #otp #old married couple #AU #chameleon arch #chameleon au

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mprosperossprite · 3 years

Note

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ any fic you want, any director's commentary you feel like sharing!

Alright, friends, gather round, because I want to bring y'all behind the scenes of Transfigured So Together.

This is a looooong post, so strap in.

In case you don't have an encyclopedic knowledge of my 18 and counting Old Guard fanfics, Transfigured So Together is the second part of my selkie!AU wherein Joe is a marine scientist and Nicky is a selkie. In the first one, This Rough Magic, told from Joe's POV, they accidentally become bonded to each other and Joe struggles to reconcile his scientist's view of the world with the fact that his now husband claims to be a magical creature. Transfigured So Together picks up where the first leaves off, but from Nicky's POV.

Transfigured So Together started, like many a good fanfic, because my dear friend marbletopempire begged me to write more of this AU.

I knew it needed to involve Nicky figuring out HIS side of the bonding to Joe. But I was pretty scared to start writing it because Nicky and Andy are the canon characters I feel like I relate to the least. Nicky, in canon, if full of these rich complexities: a man capable of and willing to commit cold-blooded violence (eg sniping two men with one shot, holy shit), but is also the friendliest to strangers, the one who looks out for Nile's well-being from the instant they meet; a man whose principles are deep and unyielding and yet makes jokes about sex vacations with his husband while being tortured. How to take all of that and transpose it into a world in which I'd decided this amazing, rich, complex human was a creature from Scottish folklore? YIKES.

It was at about this point that I thought dear lord what have I done especially because my go-to beta -- my dear marble -- was now the very person I was writing this fic for, as a gift.

But I outlined the thing. And then, slowly, I wrote it. I wasn't happy with it, but I sent it away to the wonderful Mags for a beta read anyways.

In the process of working with Mags and talking to Mags about their questions, in the process of making revisions and clarifying the forces internal and external the pushed Nicky onto the path the led him to meeting Joe, I came to really love the version of Nicky I'd created, stubborn and principled, but uncertain of himself and his place in the world. Not a version of Nicky we see in the film but a Nicky that with time could grow into his film incarnation.

Nicky spends a lot of words in Transfigured So Together wrestling with the two parts of who he is -- seal and human. It would be easier, absolutely, if he was just one or the other, but he isn't. He will always be both. Over the course of the story, both he and Joe come to peace with the notion that the in between is, in and of itself, not only a valid identity, but an essential part of who Nicky is, how he lives and learns and loves.

Mags pointed out that I had written an allegory for the experience of being nonbinary, one which makes clear that the both or the in between is itself a valid and beautiful identity.

I had not set out to do so. This was not my intention. But, yeah, I think this reading of Transfigured So Together is absolutely substantiated in the text.

I've done a lot of thinking about this since I published Transfigured So Together. I considered for a hot-second if this whole endeavor was a repressed part of myself making a cry to be recognized, but nope, still a cis woman. Instead, my take-aways from this experience center around empathy and the power of story-telling. I do not know what it is like to not be cis gendered. I certainly do not know what it is like to be selkie. And yet, by paying careful attention to trying to understand a character in a totally fantastical situation (half human, half seal, married to a human scientist who doesn't believe in his existence), I came to develop a much, much deeper understanding of what it might be like for real people to exist in the real world.

This ultimately is the power of fiction: to serve as a mirror of our own experiences and a window to the experiences of others. Never before had I had the experience of fiction as a window when writing, though, and it is one that feels special and precious.

(Finally, I do have to end this post with a note that, as much as Transfigured So Together is dear to me, I wish that more folks would read fic that isn't about Joe and Nicky. Nile Freeman is the main character of The Old Guard and she deserves wayyyyy more love and attention from this fandom than she currently receives. So before you ask, no I won't be writing any more Joe/Nicky any time soon.)

Send me asks for more bts content!

#M writes fic #asked and answered #fandom friends #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #kaysonova #kaysanova #the old guard #tog #tog fanfic #fanfic bts

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thatfanficstuff · 4 years

Text

Need You - Geralt of Rivia

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: just canon typical monster fights and stuff

A/N: I don’t know what this is. Enjoy!

***

You stepped into the Rotten Pig and ran your gaze over the patrons. It was a horrible name for a pub but setting eyes on the cliental told you how they may have arrived upon it. No witcher. Damn it. You’d been trying to find Geralt for weeks. Every time you thought you’d caught up to him, you’d discover he’d left days before.

A familiar tune caught your ear and you followed it across the room. You grinned when Jaskier came into view behind a rather rowdy group. If anyone knew where Geralt was, it would be the bard. You leaned against a pole, arms crossed over your chest as you listened to him perform.

“Nicely done, bard,” you called as he finished.

He turned with wide eyes and grinned when he saw it was you. A moment later he was in front of you shaking your hand enthusiastically. “Y/N! I haven’t seen you in an age. How are you? Any tales you’d care to share with your favorite bard?”

“What do you need my tales for? Geralt is far more interesting than me.”

Jaskier’s smile fell into a sour look. “Yes, well Geralt doesn’t appreciate me like you do.”

You huffed and sat at a nearby table. He took the seat across from you. “He likes you. He’s just grumpy.”

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one. He’s worse since you left. Downright miserable he is.”

Part of you was happy to hear it. After all, Geralt had been the one to declare that he didn’t need your help after you saved him from a particularly nasty clawing. You weren’t about to stick around where you weren’t wanted. Even if you did make more money with him at your side. For some reason people hesitated to hire a lone female to rid them of their monster problem. It didn’t help that your gear had you looking like anything but a witch.

“Where is he, Jaskier?”

“In the swamp. Bloedzuiger keeps attacking people traveling on the road.”

You curled your lip. Bloedzuigers were basically giant leeches that spat acid. “Well, that won’t make a very pretty ballad will it?”

The bard tilted his head from side to side as if he was considering it. Before he could say anything, the door slammed open. Geralt filled the opening. He was dirty and bloody but appeared mostly unharmed. Your gaze trailed him as he walked over to the man sitting at the end of the bar. A merchant if you’d tagged him right. A merchant who suddenly looked very nervous.

“Bloedzuiger’s dead. So are the drowners. I’ll take the rest of my pay now.” Geralt’s deep, rough voice sent a chill through you. Gods, you’d missed that voice.

“I paid you up front, Witcher. Even made a point of telling people that I’d done so. You aren’t getting more out of me now.” Sweat beaded on the lying man’s brow as his gaze darted around the room. Probably looking for someone to back him up.

Geralt hummed. “I wouldn’t kill a ghoul for what you gave me up front.”

“That’s not my problem. I paid and you did the work. It’s not like you can bring the creature back to life.” The merchant seemed very proud of himself. As if he’d pulled some great trick on the witcher.

You sighed and stood. Geralt didn’t need your help. He had his own ways to get his payment, but none of them would endear him to the townspeople. “He might not be able to, but I can.” You couldn’t actually, but they didn’t know that.

Geralt turned with a lifted brow. He ran his eyes over your length and back up. The corner of his mouth kicked up ever so slightly. “Y/N.”

“Geralt,” you responded with your own twitch of the lips. Your gaze shifted back to the man at his side. “Now, about that payment.”

“You’re Y/N? The mistress of night and slayer of injustice?”

What fresh misery was this? You turned your head to look at Jaskier who gave you a sheepish smile and a little wave. Damn bard. Geralt’s smile grew a bit wider.

“Yes, that’s me apparently. Money? Or would you prefer to be in a ballad yourself? Strictly in a slain enemy capacity of course.”

He tossed a bag of coins on the bar. “I don’t want no trouble. Times is tough, that’s all. You can’t blame me for trying to save some coin.”

Geralt hummed again and snatched the bag from the counter. As he ambled to the table, you motioned the barkeep for food and drink for the three of you. The witcher sat beside Jaskier and you took the spot directly across from him. Neither of you spoke as you just looked each other over.

When your ales were placed on the table, Geralt broke the silence. “It’s been awhile. You look…good.”

“You look filthy. How was the swamp?”

“Damp.”

“Of course, it was.” You rolled your eyes at his simple answer. Jaskier’s gaze kept darting between the two of you as if waiting for something monumental to happen.

Three bowls of stew were placed on the table and Geralt lost his patience with you. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

You arched a brow as you took a bite of your food. “Maybe I was just passing through.”

The look he gave you said he didn’t believe that for a moment.

“Fine. I need a favor.”

He paused with the spoon partway to his mouth. “What sort of favor?”

“Striga.”

He grunted. “That’s not a favor. That’s a job. A big one.”

You grimaced. “For what they’re paying, it’s definitely more like a favor.”

His amber eyes studied you. “Then the answer’s no. Besides, I’m in the middle of something.”

“You’re still looking for Yennefer.” Your heart twinged as you said the name. No matter how many times you warmed Geralt’s bed he always went back to Yen. And it hurt every single time.

The silence stretched. Finally, Geralt tore his gaze from you. “I haven’t found her yet.”

You pushed yourself to your feet. “Well then, I guess there’s no reason for me stay. Jaskier, good to see you again.”

Geralt grabbed your wrist as you passed him. “Sit. Down.”

With a sigh you took the seat beside him. “What?”

His gaze locked on yours again and his grip didn’t loosen. “You won’t go after the striga on your own. Promise me.”

When you didn’t answer, his hold tightened. “Swear it.”

“You won’t hear a word about me fighting a striga. I promise.”

He held you a moment longer, his thumb running along your pulse point. “Be careful.”

***

The thing about strigas is they were fueled by a need to feed. They didn’t care who they killed only that they got to eat. They were also strong and vicious. This particular beast was tormenting a poor village. The money they’d managed to get together wasn’t much, but it was everything they had. You needed to kill the beast to spare them any further suffering.

You checked the potions on your belt and your weapons one last time. The men standing in front of you shuffled their feet nervously. “Remember, no one goes out tonight. No matter what you hear. And if anyone asks—”

“Your name is Yvetta of Nilfgaard,” recited one of the men.

“Very good. Now go.” You watched them hurry off to lock themselves in their homes. You had promised Geralt he wouldn’t hear word of you hunting the striga. Yvetta was another matter entirely.

The cemetery that spawned the creature sat at the foot of some nearby ruins. As far as you’d been able to tell, that was where the striga stayed when she wasn’t hunting. As the sun dropped to the horizon you opened the jar of pig’s blood you’d brought with you and splashed it around one section of the ruins. This was the area you had prepared earlier. An intricate trap ready to be sprung with a touch and the whisper of a word.

A scrambling of claws came with full dark and you drew your dagger. Taking a vial from your waist, you dumped the contents on your blade all the while hoping the creature wouldn’t get close enough for you to have to use it. After all, you were no witcher, just a witch that tried to right some of the wrongs in your world.

You strained your ears, but the sounds seemed to have stopped as suddenly as they started. You sucked in a breath and pushed all your senses to their limit trying to locate the creature. The searing pain at your back came with an unearthly shriek. It had snuck up behind you. There was nothing worse than a smart monster. Thankfully, your armor had blocked most of the impact. You’d be bruised for sure, but that was better than dead.

You fell forward and scrambled away before turning over. The circle was a short distance away waiting for you to finish the spell and you backed toward it as quickly as you could. The striga tilted her head as she looked you over and you got the feeling she was trying to figure out what you were up to. Your hands slid in the dirt and you curled your lip. Fantastic.

Finally, the power in your circle buzzed along your skin. You slapped your palm down and recited your word of power. A blue glow surrounded the area you were in and the striga immediately howled in panic. She lunged for the nearest opening in the wall and was bounced back. You kept your eyes on her while you withdrew another vial. If you timed things right you could take her down without her getting near you again.

Another word and a toss of the vial had a burst of flame shooting up from the floor and burning the beast. It screamed in outrage and pain. And then it turned those angry, beady eyes on you. Well, fuck. You tried to get to your feet, but the striga was too fast. She lunged, pinning you to the ground. You plunged your dagger into her side and she lifted her arm as she screamed. One swipe of those claws across your throat and you were done.

You grasped desperately at your waist trying to draw another vial but the beast was too heavy and had you pinned too thoroughly. You closed your eyes and braced for the impact. Instead, warm liquid covered you followed by another screech from the striga.

The weight was suddenly gone and you opened your eyes. Realizing you were covered in blood that was not your own, you wiped a hand down your face and pushed yourself up. There, at the other end of the small room you’d blocked off was Geralt fighting the striga who was now missing part of her arm. It laid a short distance away from you where he must have severed it to keep her from clawing you.

You got to your feet quickly, weaving slightly from the pain in your back. Geralt fought the beast, his eyes black from some potion he’d consumed before the battle. Your fingers found the vial you’d been searching for earlier and you launched it at creature. It exploded across the striga’s back and you yelled the elder word for stop. The creature immediately froze and Geralt took full advantage to end the beast. The striga was no more.

You looked between it and Geralt who stood over it panting. You wondered briefly if you could sneak away without him noticing. He was going to be pissed. After a moment, he put his sword away and turned to face you. You expected him to yell at you. To tell you that you were an idiot and he was never helping you again.

What you did not expect was for him to eat the ground up between you with several long strides. Before you could even think of reacting, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you forward. His lips slammed into yours and tension flowed from your body as your hands found his chest. The kiss was long and needy. When he finally pulled back, his jaw was still tight.

“You lied.” His already deep voice had dropped even lower. Yeah, he was pissed.

“Technically, I said you wouldn’t hear about me fighting a striga. I’m fairly certain you didn’t, so no lie.”

“Y/N.” That was nothing more than a growl. He released you and paced away from you. “Why would you go after the striga alone? You know how dangerous they are. Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Geralt, these people have nothing. Less than nothing. Do you really expect me to stand aside and let them lose their lives as well? I had to try.”

He spun to face you, hands clenched at his sides. “And if you failed?”

“Well, then they at least would know someone cared enough about their fate to try to change it.” This all seemed perfectly reasonable to you, but every word you spoke seemed to make Geralt angrier.

“And what was I to do if you died?”

You sighed. “You would find another witch, Geralt. As memory serves you were on your way to find one the last time I saw you, so why are you here?”

He licked his lips. “Because I need you.”

You lifted your brows but said nothing. He didn’t need you. He needed Yennefer. You were just a convenient substitute for when she wasn’t around.

He sighed and tore his gaze from yours. “Yennefer hasn’t been in my bed since White Hall. No one has other than you.”

That was the first time the two of you slept together. “Don’t lie to me, Geralt. It doesn’t suit you.” It would take both hands for you to count the number of times he’d left you somewhere to run after Yennefer.

“I never lie.”

It was true that you’d never known him to lie before but if what he said was true, you’d suffered so much heartbreak for nothing. You shook your head, not even wanting to discuss this right then. “Let’s go back to the village. I need to get cleaned up.”

He grasped your arm and turned you back to face him. His hand cradled the side of your face. “Why are you crying?”

“Am I?” You moved to wipe the tears away, but he beat you to it. You licked your lips. “I’m not a fool, Geralt. I know where I stand in importance to you. And I tried to be okay with it because I love you. But I can’t do this anymore.” You took a step back. “So, thank you for your help and maybe I’ll see you around someday.”

“No,” he growled as he grabbed you and pulled you back to him. “You are not saying goodbye.” His lips slammed into yours and you couldn’t resist kissing him back. He tangled his fingers in your hair and held you in place as he pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours. “I don’t deserve you. I told myself to keep my distance, but fuck it. I don’t care anymore. I need you, Y/N. No one else just you.”

“What about me?” came from the darkness, startling a laugh out of you.

Geralt growled. “Jaskier, if this ends up in one of your songs you’ll wish that drowner had eaten you.”

“But what an epic tale it would be. The white wolf and the mistress of night.”

You shook your head and looped your arms around your witcher’s neck. “No. This one’s about Geralt and Y/N.” And his lips found yours again.

#Geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #geralt x you

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tomhollandstrash · 3 years

Text

Spiderman the Matchmaker

Please enjoy this classic friends to lovers trope!

Pairing: Peter Parker x Artist!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2k

You grinned at Peter as he danced around your room wearing the ridiculous meowing cat sweater one of your relatives gave you for your birthday. The way he wiggled his hips and kept squeezing the cat’s nose to make it meow made your shoulders shake in laughter. Moments like these with Peter were your favorite. The way he looked so worry free made your heart soar. This care-free version of Peter is one you often found yourself missing these days.

“Pete, stop I’m going to pee my pants if you keep doing that,” You said through your laughter, wiping away a tear that escaped the corner of your eye.

“I can’t, I’m enjoying this way too much,” Peter said, letting out a loud laugh as he set off the sweater’s obnoxious meowing again. “I just can’t believe they bought this for you,”

“It’s the thought that counts,” You said, feigning seriousness before breaking out into another fit of laughter. “Okay, okay I can’t even say that with a straight face. It is kind of a wild sweater choice,”

“You could say that,” Peter chuckled, out of breath from dancing.

He flopped down on the bed next to you and let out a sigh of contentment. You looked at him over your shoulder before looking back to the sketch in front of you, tilting your head as you examined it.

“What’re you working on?” Peter asked curiously as he sat up to look at your sketchbook over your shoulder.

You blushed slightly because of Peter’s close proximity. You would be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little attracted to Peter. Not only was he a fantastic friend, but he was more than easy on the eyes. The way his eyes would twinkle when he smiled and his messy brown curls made your heart beat a little faster every time you saw him.

“Oh, you know... It’s nothing much,” You said absentmindedly.

“Are you kidding? Y/N, you’re the best artist I know!” Peter gushed, pulling the sketchbook out of your hands despite your protests.

“Peter! I’m not done with that yet!” You tried to grab the book back from him to no avail. Peter was too good at blocking you. You bit your lip as you carefully watched him as he looked at the sketch.

“Well?” You asked tentatively, bringing Peter back to reality.

Lately, you’d been trying to practice more self-love. You decided to start by drawing a self-portrait. No better way to practice loving yourself than by drawing yourself.

“Y/N, it’s beautiful!” Peter said, looking at you with his heart stopping smile. “Can I have it?”

“What?” Your cheeks turned a deep crimson color as your eyes widened to an almost comical size.

Was Peter Parker calling you beautiful? You shook your head and looked everywhere except for at him, rubbing your arm shyly. He couldn’t have been meaning that he thought you were beautiful, he had to have just been talking about the drawing.

“Do you really want that?” You asked, looking at him holding the sketchbook.

He nodded enthusiastically, holding the sketch close to his chest. You could never quite figure out how to say no to him when he pulled out the puppy eyes. You sighed and nodded.

“Sure, you can have it,” You chuckled gently and put your hands out, gesturing for him to hand you your sketchbook.

“Will you sign it?” He handed you the book and crossed his legs. “I want to make sure I have it when you’re famous”

“Sure, Pete,” You smiled softly, taking your favorite teal pen out of your pencil bag. You opened the pen and put it to the paper, signing your name in the corner of the drawing. Tearing the sketch out of its place in the sketchbook, you turned to Peter. “Here ya go. One Y/N original,”

Peter took the sketch out of your hands, admiring the details of your face on the page.

“I love it. Thank you,” He smiled brightly.

It had been a few days since you’d seen Peter last. Something about him needing to help May out around the apartment, and needing to do some extra work for his internship. While you two would usually hang out after school and into the evening, you hadn’t been seeing each other as much lately. It wasn’t that Peter was pushing you away, it just seemed like he was busier than usual. You were happy that his internship was going well, and you always wanted to support him in everything that he did. He was your best friend, so you couldn’t help but miss him a little bit.

You wandered the winding path in the park before settling on a nice looking bench. A sigh left your lips as you let your bag drop into the spot next to you as you sat down. You pulled your sketchbook and pencils out of your bag. Shivering slightly as the cool autumn air brushed past you, you opened the book and started to draw. You weren’t sure at what point your brain decided to draw Peter, but when you looked down at the sketchpad, you blushed slightly. Were you really so hopelessly in love with Peter that now you were just drawing him without thinking about it? Apparently, so.

As the sky began to turn purple and the streetlights turned on, you packed up your things and began the walk home. You could have taken the subway, but you decided you could use the fresh air. Caught up in your thoughts, you yelped when someone tried to grab your bag from you.

“Hey! Let go!” You shouted, pulling on your bag with all your might.

You saw a flash of red and blue in the corner of your eye and suddenly, you found yourself on the ground with the contents of your bag strewn about the sidewalk.

“Ouch,” You pouted as you looked around. When you looked up you saw Spiderman.

“If I would’ve known they were going to let go like that, I would’ve tried to catch you,” Spiderman chuckled lightly and offered you his hand to help you off the ground.

“It’s okay,” You said and grabbed his hand, surprised at how effortlessly he helped you up. “Thanks for showing up, I’m not sure I would’ve made it out of here with my stuff if you hadn’t,”

“It’s my job,” He said. You swear you’ve heard his voice somewhere, but you weren’t sure where. It must’ve been on the news or something.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as he helped you pick up your things. You were about to grab your sketchbook when you noticed Spiderman looking at its pages.

“Oh! Um, I’ll take that, thanks for grabbing it,” You pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, and gently took the book from him.

“You’re really good, you know,” He complimented. “Who’s that guy you’re drawing?”

“That’s Peter,” You smiled as you pulled your bag over your shoulder.

“He’s good looking,” Spiderman chuckled.

“He is,” You nodded and smiled, trying not to give too much away.

“Can I walk you home?” He asked.

“Uh, sure! I’d appreciate that,” You said and began walking toward your apartment.

The two of you walked quietly together for a bit before Spiderman broke the silence.

“So are you two together?” He inquired, nodding toward the sketchbook in your hands.

“No, we’re not,” You blushed deeply, looking at the ground.

“Why not?” He pressed.

“I mean, he’s my best friend. And as far as I can tell, he’s not really interested in me like that,” You explained, glancing in Spiderman’s direction.

“I mean, you never know, he totally could be. Are you interested in him like that?”

You sighed and looked back at your feet, the ground suddenly the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. Were you really about to confess your feelings for Peter to Spiderman? You weighed your options before deciding there was no harm in it. What were the odds that you’d see Spiderman again? Besides, it’s not like he would tell Peter how you felt.

“Yeah, I mean, Peter’s wonderful. He’s so sweet and fun to be around. Not to mention extremely cute,” You said, pausing for a moment. “I mean, I didn’t mean to fall for him. It’s kind of typical right? Falling for your best friend,”

Spiderman went silent for a moment, almost like he was thinking. You looked over to him, worried that perhaps you’d shared too much.

“Sorry, maybe that was too much,” You added.

“N-no! Not at all!” He said, sounding somewhat surprised. “I was just thinking. If I were Peter, I would want you to talk to me about it, and I’d honestly probably feel the same way,”

You were going to respond, but saw your apartment building coming into view.

“Thanks for walking me home!” You said before quickly slipping into your apartment building.

Spiderman had given you a lot to think about.

“Hey, y/n. What’s going on?” Peter said, slightly breathless.

In the past week, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spiderman’s words. You decided you would talk to Peter and you would tell him how you felt. Peter was one of your best friends, and you didn’t think he’d make it weird if he didn’t feel the same way. So, you called Peter and asked him to come over one afternoon, hoping he was free.

“Can we go to the roof?” You asked, pointing toward the fire escape.

“Sure!” He chirped, leading the way to the roof.

The whole way up your heart was pounding. You were nervous but feeling somewhat hopeful. Although you weren’t sure if he would feel the same way, you wanted to believe that he did.

You shoved your hands deep into your pockets and looked at Peter.

“So, I asked you to come over because I have to tell you something,” You began.

Peter’s ear perked up, his heart racing. He had to try to keep the smile that was forming. Peter had been thinking about the night he, well- Spiderman, walked you home. He’d been in love with you for the longest time. The way you lit up the room, your incredible skills as an artist, how kind you were to those around you, the list of things he loved about you could go on forever. You were everything to him, and he was just hoping that you would feel the same way too.

“I don’t know how to say it, so I guess I’ll just do it...” You took a deep breath and shut your eyes tightly. “IreallylikeyoualotIthinkyou’rereallywonderfulandIthinkImightbeinlovewithyou”

You opened one of your eyes to gage Peter’s reaction, shoulders relaxing when you saw him chuckling.

“Peter,” You whined, covering your face with both of your hands. “I shouldn’t have said anything,”

“Y/n,” Peter said, walking over to you and taking your hands away from your face. “I love you too,”

“You do?” You blinked a few times, finally having the courage to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve been in love with you since the day you accidentally broke my bike,” He said, placing a warm hand on your cheek.

“Did I mention that I’m really sorry about that?” You chuckled, cringing at the memory.

“Yes,” He laughed, his eyes crinkling in the most adorable way.

The two of you stood there on the roof looking into each other’s eyes, feeling so much joy and love.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, breaking the silence.

Peter didn’t say anything, instead pressing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. You sighed happily into the kiss, happy that you decided to tell him how you felt. You could have never imagined that Peter felt the same way about you. When the two of you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, a smile on his lips.

“I love you,” He said again, grinning ear to ear.

“I love you too, Peter,” You said going in for another kiss.

The night went on sharing sweet kisses and warm embraces. You were so grateful for the night that Spiderman walked you home. You’d have to remember to thank him. Peter would eventually tell you that he was Spiderman, but that was a confession for another day.

#Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker x Reader #Peter Parker reader insert #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #peter parker x y/n

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thetiredbiwrites · 4 years

Note

Okay so, I know you did a sick!readerxSteve Rogers but I was wondering if you can do the same thing but with Bucky? If not that concept just something cute with Bucky?

Thank you for requesting, hope this is ok 😊

Bucky x sick!Reader, platonic!Tony x sick!Reader

A/N: I know I said I’d post something yesterday, but my laptop is a bitch and didn’t co-operate. I nearly punched a wall.

Your hands froze on the tech you were upgrading as you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly while rapidly blinking the dizziness away so your eyes could re-focus.

Tony had been subtly watching you all morning, concern growing as time ticked on. Of course, he had noticed his favourite teammate (don’t tell Rhodey) wasn’t at her best when she first set foot in the lab a few hours ago.

His initial instinct was to ask if you should be down here and not in bed, but he’s learnt from experience that that didn’t work. He can count the times he won over you on one hand. Instead he opted to keep an eye on you, make sure you didn’t hurt your self or pass out or something.

Additionally, the more he watched you, the more evidence he had to use against you when you try telling him you’re fine.

As he heard you mutter ‘dammit’ for the fiftieth time, he decided it was time to speak up.

Even Tony makes mistakes when working on something, but you had been making silly mistakes and taking twice as long to complete things, which is highly unlike you. You were nearly as smart as Tony in this area (much smarter in many other areas so you were ok with giving this one to Tony).

“Y/N, are you ok?”

The concern was clear in his voice, making you realise you hadn’t been as subtle as you thought. You opted to keep your eyes on your work, determined to finish it and fully aware that if Tony saw your face, you were going to lose this.

“Yeah, I’m good, Tones.”

You had tried to sound normal, but your voice failed you making you cringe at how weak and raspy it sounded. Not needing to look at Tony to know he didn’t believe you.

“You wanna try that again?”

“I’m-I’m just-“ You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “I didn’t sleep well, ok? And with-with Bucky on this mission and- I-I-I’m just tired. That’s all.”

You ran a hand down your face and looked over at Tony who was clearly still concerned and didn’t entirely believe you. With a sympathetic smile and furrowed eyebrows, Tony looked over your face. You looked more than ‘just tired’ to him.

“Maybe I’ll just take a break, go get a coffee.”

You didn’t want to worry Tony more and believed that if you kept convincing yourself you were just tired then that’s all you’d be, right?

“Good idea. Take as long as you need.”

You felt suddenly light-headed as you stood and briefly rested against the desk, just stood up too quickly, that’s all.

The second you stepped out of the lab, Tony asked FRIDAY to watch you. He didn’t need you fainting in some corridor or on some stairs and hurting yourself. The others were due back from the mission today and he really hoped they’d be home soon.

After an hour passed and you hadn’t returned to the lab, Tony became worried and decided to check on you. You were incredibly stubborn and so Tony expected you to immediately come back to the lab, claiming the coffee worked even if you were dead on your feet.

Entering the kitchen, he spotted you at the table, head and arms resting on the table, one hand still holding your mug of now cold coffee.

As you had finished making your coffee, heat spread through your body and a wave of nausea hit. Deciding to sit down, you rested your head on the cool wood, figuring it would pass in a couple minutes. Instead you opened your eyes to see Tony crouching next to your chair.

“Go to bed.”

You stumbled over your words as you sat back, not ready to admit defeat.

“Don’t even try. You’re not well, Y/N, and don’t try to convince me otherwise, it won’t work. Go to bed.” He cut you off, his voice firm but face soft, his paternal side shining through.

He handed you a bottle of water from the fridge and send you off towards your room.

Your feet dragged on the carpet, using the wall for support to help you reach your room. You’ve gone 70 hours in the lab and didn’t feel this weak and tired.

You hated it.

Just as your door came into view, your stomach flipped, and a burst of adrenaline allowed you to get to your bathroom just intime to throw up the contents of your stomach.

The cold wall was a blessing as you rested against it, still sat on the bathroom floor. That’s where you stayed for what felt like hours, focussing on your breathing and willing your body to move.

After using whatever energy was left flowing through you on brushing your teeth and drinking most of the water Tony had given you, you collapsed onto the bed. It had never felt more comfortable than it did right then. Like landing on clouds.

Reaching out just enough to wrap your arms around Bucky’s pillow, you fell asleep.

Bucky pov

The team trudged into the kitchen, glad to finally be home and eat some decent food.

Bucky stretched, his back popping from the long, uncomfortable journey home in the jet. You’d think with all that money, Tony could make decent seats. Sam handed him a mug of coffee and a sigh passed his lips, I guess the expensive coffee machine makes up for the seats.

“I see everyone’s still alive and in one piece. Fantastic.”

A series of grunts and groans followed Tony’s comment. A ‘good to see you too, Tony’ from Steve and an eyeroll from Natasha.

“Barnes, need to talk you.”

“I just got back; can I at least finish my coff- “

“It’s about Y/N.”

Those three words were enough to make Bucky’s heart race as he snapped to attention. Everyone else also looking over at Tony as they simultaneously realised she wasn’t there. The less annoying mechanic would usually meet Bucky the team at landing or in the kitchen.

“What about her?”

“Where is she?”

Bucky ignored Clint and Sam as he rounded the counter and approached the shorter man.

“Is she ok?”

“Sent her to bed a few hours ago. Claimed she was just tired, but she didn’t look well. Probably just sick but too stubborn to admit it. Thought you should know, check on her.”

Bucky nodded, patting Tony’s shoulder in thanks as he passed.

He found his favourite person curled up on top of the covers, arms wrapped around his pillow. Her skin was paler than normal, eyes puffy and shivering slightly, goose-bumps covering her bare arms.

His heart broke and eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her. As quick as he could, he was out of his suit and in sweats and a tee before perching on the edge of the bed. His brows pulled together again, and he let out a sigh as he gently pressed his right hand against your forehead and felt the heat radiating, despite your shivering.

His hand moved to rest on the side of your face as your eyes fluttered open. You tried to smile, glad to have your boyfriend home and safe. He didn’t appear to have any injuries, but you were aware of the worry swimming in his eyes and half smile on his face.

“You’re home.”

“And you’re sick.”

Struggling into a sitting position, you still attempted to deny it, despite throwing up just a few hours prior.

“No. No, I’m not. I’m fine. I- “

You cut yourself off, hand covering your mouth and groaning as the urge to throw up returned.

Bucky’s head tilted as he looked at you, eyebrow raised and a small smile daring you to say ‘fine’ again.

“I’m never babysitting again.”

Bucky chuckled, no believing that for a second. You loved little Morgan like your niece and cried when she first called you ‘Aunt’. You couldn’t stay away from her, even if she did share her germs.

After helping you into comfortable clothes and back to bed, under the covers this time, he put a DVD on the tv and left the room.

Less than 10 minutes later he returned with a steaming mug and a plate of toast.

A smile graced his lips at your grabby hands and passed you the large mug. It was one of your favourites, a Christmas gift from Peter. Adorned with a little black cat holding a knife with the words, ‘I am small and sensitive, but also fight me’. You loved it.

Wrapping both hands around the mug, you brought it up to your face. The aroma of ginger tea already made you feel better and more relaxed.

But when Bucky sat next to you and presented you with the plate of toast, your nose wrinkled in disgust. The thought of eating anything didn’t sound appealing right now.

“Come on, Y/N. You have to eat something; you’ll only feel worse if you don’t.”

You knew he was right, and his face told you he wouldn’t be backing down. He might even resort to force feeding you if he had to.

The tea had been drunk and toast eaten, and now you were wrapped in strong arms, the metal of the left one feeling good against your warm skin.

Bucky leaned down to kiss you, but you flinched back.

“Don’t kiss me.”

“Doll, I can’t get sick.”

“Well… what if I throw up on your face?”

He smiled and kissed your head before pulling you into his chest as the two of you settled to finish watching the movie.

Not that you did, his fingers lightly running up and down your arm soon sent you to sleep.

#avengers reader insert #avengers imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky barnes x sick!reader #sick!reader #platonic!tony stark x reader #platonic tony stark x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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kolbisneat · 3 years

Text

MONTHLY MEDIA: March 2021

Hey March was a weird month what with all the pandemic anniversaries and such but here we are. It’s March. Goodbye March.

……….FILM……….

Attack the Block (2011) After about 20 minutes my partner asked if this was basically a British episode of Goosebumps and....she’s not wrong? I liked it back when it came out but it’s aged really well. Tight script and casual class politics along with the very good space stuff.

Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988) It turns out I’d remembered so little of this movie that it was essentially a fresh viewing. The artistry and ambition still holds up today plus a noir set in L.A. is always good time. But then you add cartoon hijinks and it’s all just that much better.

The New York Times Presents: Framing Britney Spears (2021) So we watched the ep on Britney Spears and...it didn’t really seem to cover all that much. It kept feeling like it was about to start and then after an hour and a half of that it just sorta wraps with a small legal victory. I know this isn’t fiction so I’m not expecting a happy ending, but I don’t know what it wanted to say.

CBS presents Oprah with Meghan and Harry (2021) I mean I don’t think anything said or shared was surprising anyone. Though I appreciate Oprah not letting either of them sidestep a question. Either answer or say you won’t; none of this fancy poetry.

……….TELEVISION……….

Great British Bake Off (Episode 9.01 to 9.04) This is our first season without Mary Berry, Sue, and Mel and it’s a real shift! But despite all the new faces, it still feels very much like the good-natured GBBO I’ve come to love. Great stuff.

City of Ghosts (Episode 1.01 to 1.06) I hope all that I’m seeing about this means that Netflix will greenlight another season and more television like this. The artistry is fantastic, the concept allows for both whimsy and poignancy, and it’s casually funny in a way that I can’t fully describe. Great stuff.

WandaVision (Episode 1.09) So this didn’t quite stick the landing for me. I figured there’d be some blasts and magic and zooming around in the sky, but I also assumed we’d get some resolution (maybe even consequences) for what Wanda did to the town. Sure, she’s not the villain and it wasn’t intentional, but the show appeared to be built around this theme of denial and acceptance yet abandoned that in the end. But I will give it this: it really has sold me on the relationship between Wanda and Vision.

The Night Manager (Episode 1.05 to 1.06) You know I think I’ve been so primed by Bond films and action set pieces that, while I won’t spoil the ending, I was pleasantly surprised by how it wrapped up. It was a nice change of pace.

The Bachelor (Episode 25.09 to 25.12) What a season. It was a mess, sure, but I also think it was the uncomfortable mix of stagnation and progress. The show needs to evolve and I feel like the finale and aftershow really highlighted that the change has to happen. Maybe it’s starting to happen already or in future seasons it’ll change whether production likes it or not.

……….READING……….

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir (Complete) Really fantastic read and such an effortless blend of science fiction and...necromantic fantasy! Dark and gross and light and funny all at the same time. 100% recommend and am very excited for the next entry despite this feeling whole and complete on its own.

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum (Complete) I want to work my way through the series (or at least the original 14 written by Baum) so we gotta start at the beginning! There’s such a light air about the book that everyone kinda just rolls with everything. Sentient objects and talking animals and lots of murder are just met with a “Great! on to the next adventure!” and I love it.

The Marvelous Land of Oz by L. Frank Baum (Complete) It’s really great that the second book has a lot of the same core components (human child meets a bunch of wacky sidekicks while on a very small adventure) yet casually expands the mythos and world. It even builds on the plot established by the first book (the main conflict revolving around Scarecrow being overthrown as leader of Oz ever since the Wizard disappeared). Great stuff.

Ozma of Oz by L. Frank Baum (Complete) Bringing back Dorothy and it’s really a merging of characters from book 1 and 2. If anything, this series is shaping up to be about making friends and the genial conflict resolution is really heartwarming. Now i’m keen to watch Return to Oz.

Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz by L. Frank Baum (Complete) This might just be me but I find a mostly human cast (outside of Jim the Cab Horse) to be far less interesting than the diverse adventuring parties of the first three books. Lots of fun stuff in here and playing fast and loose with the world-building works well; highlight the fun parts of a land made of wood and then continue on to the next location! Great stuff.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 9 by Ryoko Kui (Complete) It feels like everything is starting to come together and wrap up and I’m totally here for a story that knows what it wants to do. And while there doesn’t seem to be as much room cooking with the overarching plot that is driving the story, it never feels like it’s moved away from the heart of the characters and for that I can’t recommend it enough. Excellent world-building, excellent cast, and really great humor.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The IDW Collection Volume 9 by Kevin Eastman, Tom Waltz, Mateus Santolouco, Dave Wachter, Pablo Tunica, Sophie Campbell, and many more! (Complete) The human/secret agent stuff will always be boring to me (even if they’re hunting the turtles) cause that’s not what I want in a comic. I don’t want Batman hunting burglars, I want bright colourful villains for our bright and colorful heroes. Luckily we get into a pocket dimension for a toad god and his relatives during the second half of the volume. Overall, still my favourite ooze series.

……….AUDIO……….

Musicalsplaining (Podcast) Great host dynamics and hot dang I love a good musical.

……….GAMING……….

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The group has taken a break from the infected giant colony to sort out some Pirate drama! Further session breakdowns are over here on Reddit!

Dungeons & Designers (Podcast) I had the rare chance to play in a D&D campaign instead of run it and it’s even up online! They also air the sessions through their podcast!

And that’s it! As always, let me know anything you think I should check out and thanks for reading.

Happy Wednesday.

#Monthly Media #Kolbisneat #Andrew Kolb

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ourladylennon · 3 years

Note

1/2) About Fraser, a couple of quotes that caught my eye:

"Robert represented to me freedom, freedom of speech, of view"

"The most formative influence for me was Robert Fraser. Obviously the other Beatles were very important but the most formative art influence was Robert. I expect people to die so I don’t feel a loss but there’s a vacuum where he used to be"

"The way Robert lived, which became the way I lived for a couple of years and which I now figure for a rather aristocratic way of life, would be that he’d ring early in the day and say, ‘What are we doing for dinner tonight?’

'Once I got to know Robert, a nice thing would be going to the gallery and helping install an exhibition. Just sit around and smoke a bit of pot while somebody else was installing the exhibition. Helping. Play a little music for him.’

"There were many good times in Robert’s flat. Through my Beatle connections I’d hire a 16mm projector for the evening […] and I started off with Wizard of Oz. Robert got into this, wow, and he’d get some art movies. We got a lot of Bruce Connors, showed a lot of that. It was a very exciting period."

The boy sounded smitten, didn't he? Maybe nothing physical happened, (Robert was allegedly into darker men) but it looks like Paul liked the idea of being "romanced" by this handsome and sophisticated guy. There was an undertone of cozy, easy intimacy between them. You can tell by the way Bob would call to plan what they'd do for dinner. How Paul would sit there playing music for his eyes only while someone else was installing the exhibition. It speaks volumes that someone as image oriented as Paul went to Paris with an openly gay man without caring what others would say. It suggests a deep connection. The story about their "netflix and chill" encounters in Robert's flat is so suggestive as well. Paul could've been anywhere and yet there he was watching Wizard of Oz with this dude. I'd say those encounters were not about Paul's love of cinema. He just wanted to be around Bob. They most likely drank, did drugs and in my opinion, fooled around a bit, for the fun of it. It sounds like a fantastic way to spend the time, 10/10 recommended.

Paul also had a strong relationship with Tara for the short time they knew each other. The fact he did LSD with him before the other Beatles implies a lot of trust. Tara was very responsible and sweet in that occasion, staying sober to look after Paul in case he had a bad trip. I loved that about him. He was really concerned about keeping Paul safe and giving him a good time. They always hung out when they had the chance and John really disliked the guy. Then there is Tara's Christmas trip to Liverpool. I'm aware he knew Paul's brother Mike first and they were friendly but there was such an air of "meet the parents" about this situation. I'm not entirely convinced they were physical but I could sense a romantic crush. Tara was married but as a beautiful society swan in the Rolling Stones' circle, I think he was quite open to experimentation.

part 2 and my answer below read line :)

2/2) Again, I would never call Paul bisexual but I do think he was more attracted to men in a romantic/platonical sense than people realize. He enjoyed immensely the attention and the company of some guys. He would open up emotionally with them, learn their craft and incorporate their habits in a way he rarely did with his women, not even Linda. It looks like Paul wouldn't unlock certain corners of his mind unless a man he was drawn to gave him that permission. This is probably why he associated Fraser with freedom.

John was the most important of all because in a way, Paul would've never discovered and accepted himself without him. He used to kill frogs and engage in unruly behavior as a child to repress that soft, romantic persona he would become so famous for. Meeting a charismatic, brilliant boy who appreciated that vulnerable side of him must've been exhilarating. As they became a songwriting team, they both started seeing creation as sex, a view they'd carry for the rest of their lives. It's telling that once Paul lost John permanently, he went looking for the next man to fall in love with. But not even Elvis Costello, Stevie Wonder or Michael Jackson were enough to fill that gap.

Which convinces me of the eroticism of his relationship with John. It was the one connection he didn't have with all the others (with the possible exception of Fraser) and this is why the collaborations would often end up somewhat unfulfilled. He might've loved them intellectually but the erotic element wasn't there and it made a difference in the results.

About McLennon, few people dispute they were in love with each other these days. But what are the odds that two people who felt so strongly about each other and had plenty of chances to consummate their feelings in a physical way not doing it? They would crash and burn within six months. It's all speculation because Paul won't tell us but I don't think it's that much of a radical idea. I think a lot of stuff will come out once Yoko passes away and Paul faces his own mortality.

P.S: juicy bit about Heather, I'm bummed that we don't get enough info about this period because of that divorce NDA.

Anon, you are a well-researched individual and I’m impressed. This was the first thing I read this morning it was like a morning newspaper lol, thanks.

I entirely see what you mean about intimate undertones. "Cozy” seems like a good word to describe the general feel. I *tried* reading up some more on their relationship and I get a sense that Paul in general had a great admiration for Robert and your right- has that element of creation which is so essential to Paul’s being and probably his attraction. Robert seems to have given him a different side of creating than John did: art. That clearly created a bond for them and had some impact. Like with the movies and projectors, yeah cool and all, but “an exciting period” goes a bit deeper than that for sure. He clearly learned a lot from him about art, but whose to say about what else? The way Paul talks seems like he really admired, respected and trusted the man at the very least (I am even reading this quote that seems to imply Paul and Robert did hallucinogenic drugs together unless I’m misreading? That’d be a big leap of trust just like with Tara which still boggles me).

It’s not too big of a stretch to think Paul did enjoy being romanced, in exactly the way you put it, by some guy who was “handsome and sophisticated” who he found to be interesting, different, above average, with a new exciting form of expression. And not romanced in the obvious sense; more so unassuming things like having an intimate understanding of art with one another, who felt his equal in terms of that area of art, who was putting in the effort of engaging with him, showing him something others hadn’t, being so willing to share with Paul and to open his mind. You can definitely be romanced in friendships too though so I’m not saying this is exclusively any one thing in particular, though I myself do sense an undercurrent of more-than-standard interest after reading some more. In a nutshell, pretty much what you said:

I do think he was more attracted to men in a romantic/platonical sense than people realize. He enjoyed immensely the attention and the company of some guys. He would open up emotionally with them, learn their craft and incorporate their habits in a way he rarely did with his women

I still don’t think he would ever connect the dots of what that meant or what it could mean. I think to him, it just was what it was.

With John specifically, yeah there’s just no question for me. To me, they are every bit of the lore and legend of what soul mates are made of. Fire & passion on all levels. No disrespect to any of their longterm relationships outside of each other, because they clearly had deep feelings for their other partners, but I sincerely don’t think it that it connected on every level like it did with John/Paul. But of course, I still fall on the side of thinking nothing sexual ever happened (for more reasons than one I could see why they wouldn’t have fooled around imo). With 67/68 being that turning point where they *did* crash and burn because perhaps someone tried something- words or other- or perhaps nothing happened and that could have precisely been the cracking point.

I do find it interesting that Paul’s hanging around with Robert was right around this tumultuous period of John and Paul’s relationship...kind of makes you think doesn’t it? Like does this have any influence on what happened in India sort of thing; John seeing Paul being good, close friends with a gay man. Could it have stirred something up for John? Made him see a possibility where he hadn’t before? Interesting to think about and which I hadn’t thought about before....

I genuinely hope that Paul shares anything important with us before he passes. He doesn’t owe us anything, but my god would I die to know everything that happened between them and everything they felt.

#TW drugs mention #long post #ty anon #you got my gears going #asks #<3 #paul mccartney #john lennon #robert fraser #paul x robert #tara browne

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fromashescomephoenixes · 3 years

Text

Sirius Black’s Day Off

author’s note: this is a collab of 80′s movies with the lovely @probably-peeves@thegrxywitch @flymyhp @quadrupledeckertaco @shaynawrites23 please go check out what they wrote for this!

word count: 2.6k~

summary: imagine ferris bueller’s day off.... but with sirius!

****

"Rise and shine beautiful!" Sirius sprang up, flinging my curtains open. The reddish gold morning sun greeted me. In my opinion, it seemed angry and pushy but many might call it 'gentle' and 'beautiful' I knew better.

"No," I grunted. I placed the pillow over my face to block out the sun, and Sirius's loud announcements. Who really knew what he was up to?

"That's the spirit, now I'm going to transfigure some nice yellow warts on your face and you have to cough occasionally. Okay?" Sirius continued bounding around the room before finally leaping onto my bed and planting a kiss across my cheek. I tried to shove him off, but my morning fog finally cleared enough to let me remember why I loved Sirius: it was an adventure every day with him.

"Fine,"I sat up rubbing my eyes, and gave Sirius a morning kiss. "Good morning," He leaped off of the bed, happy to have completed a succesful mission.

"Fantastic! So I'll transfigure us both to-"

"No," I said again, thinking a bit about this plan. Whatever it led to, we certainly would not be taken siriously if we both showed up to Madam Pomfrey with a bizarre illness at the same time. "We need to go in separately or she'll get suspicious."

Sirius nodded, considering.

"You're right!"

"I always am, love," I winked as I pulled on my comfiest trackies. "So are you going to take me to breakfast if you got me up this early?" With a cough, Sirius fell dramatically on to my bed.

"I can't, I'm sick!" he cried, practicing his fake illness.

"Breakfast in bed it is then!" I decided, as I summoned a house elf. Over jammy toast and Beatles tunes, Sirius explained his idea.

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." He began. Of course this was going to be a dramatic monologue. When wasn't it with Sirius? I brushed the toast crumbs from my lips as he spoke, excited to here the rest of the plan. "And so, today we are going...." He paused and appeared to be doing some difficult mental math.

"Actually, it would be quicker for me to say where we aren't going!"

"How are we doing this with classes though?" I frowned. Clearly Sirius had banked on me asking this question, and he began to preform various charms which were set to give me an extremely ill appearance in the first class of the day.

"I am excused from class due to a death in the family." He said much to happily, and I recalled that one of his pure-blood supremacist great-aunts had died recently.

"Sorry for your loss?" I said trying to hold back giggles at his jubilant behaviour.

"Don't be!" He shrugged, "Anyways, you'll be sick. And we'll call Remus out with some message from a teacher once I pick you up!"

"Remus is okay with this?" I was incredibly confused now. Typically Remus steered far away from anything which would cause him to miss classes due to his... unique.. schedule.

"Once he knows I'm sure he will be!"

"Famous last words my love, famous last words."

****

Midway through charms, I noticed a couple of strange glances coming my way. I paused my readings about The Art of Life in Inanimate Objects and looked around for anything that was causing these looks.

I quickly figured it out as I realised multicolored spots were popping up all over my arms, and I realised slight puffs of steam were currently exiting my ears. Godric Sirius. Madam Pomfrey was going to have some issues with that one.

"Professor Flitwick?" I raised my hand and waited a moment for him to notice.

"Yes Ms. y/n!" He responded in concern.

"I think I need to see Madam Pomfrey,"

"Yes, right away!" He agreed in his high pitched voice. I raced into the hall with my bag and bumped into Sirius straight away. He pulled me into the nearest secret passage way.

"Oh bloody merlin, my charms actually did work!" Sirius exclaimed, sounding extremely surprised at their success.

"How do we make them un-work?" I begged, uncomfortable at the site of pulsing pustules that were spotting my arms.

"I don't know y/n I think the multicolored look kind of suits you!" He smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine." I crossed my arms. "But no kisses until I'm back to normal," I challenged smugly. A horrified look crossed Sirius's face, and he quickly got out his wand. After a few muttered spells, I was good as new.

"Thank you darling," I kissed his cheek softly before stepping into the corridor. He blushed and quickly followed me. Pulling out a piece of scrap parchment, aka the Marauder's map, we expertly dodged Filch on our way to Remus's classroom.

"You go in," Sirius suggested, quickly forging a note if needed. Given it was the arithmancy teacher, I was sure it wouldn't matter. She was usually too focused on the topic to break away from it.

"Pardon me?" I knocked lightly on the door as I came in. "Professor Binns requested I borrow Remus for a while, he needs quite a lot of help with something." I carefully laid the foundation for a long absence to be suspected of Remus. He was currently eyeing me suspiciously, no doubt seeing right through my preformance. I threw him a wink and he simply rolled his eyes.

As we got into the hall he checked his suspicion.

"So, I'm guessing Professor Binns doesn't need my help?"

"Ah, you are smart!" I said in feigned surprise. Remus's lips twitched, nearly smiling.

"And where's Sirius?"

"Proving your smarts again!" I teased. "He's right round this corner, in the Hogsmeade secret passage." I whispered and tugged Remus into the hidden tunnel. That was where our adventure truly began. Huddled between the stoney walls of yet another secret passage.

"So!" Sirius clapped his hands together softly, before letting one hand fall down to hold mine. "Where do you guys want to go today?" I looked at him in amazement, as I had thought we'd be going to Hogsmeade at most.

"We're leaving Hogsmeade area?" I clarified. I glanced at Remus, and saw he shared my expression of shock. Sirius nodded with a glow of glee in his eyes.

"That we are!" He announced dramatically. I giggled while hushing him, sure that Filch would somehow here through the stone wall. Remus shrugged, unsure of where on earth he'd like to go.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, suddenly remembering one of the wizarding villages I'd heard about. "What about Pitlochry?" The small scottish town actually had a thriving wizarding community living right under it's very nose. It's actually where the famous wizard, Michael Scot, spent many years.

Remus's eyes lit up "Oh yes! Let's go there!" He agreed, eager to see what is said to be a beautiful town. Sirius was ecstatic, and jumped at the idea as well.

“Well?” Remus asked, trying to sound slightly bored with the lack of adventure he’d been forced to miss class for so far.

“Well what?” Sirius asked, glancing up from the Marauder's map he had been studying while we discussed where exactly to visit.

“Well how are we getting there dummy?” I grinned with a hint of mischief.

“Hey! You’re my girlfriend, you don’t get to call me dummy!” Sirius yelled indignantly.

“On the contrary darling, it’s one of my special privileges!” I smirked. “Like this!” I gave him a quick peck on the lips, and then raced raced down the passage with a smirk.

"We could apparate?" Remus suggested, but I shook my head slightly. Despite passing my test, I freaked out about trying it with anything farther than a couple of feet away.

"Perhaps use the Floo?" I thought out loud, hoping this would be the chosen idea.

"Or," Sirius began with a gleam in his eye, "We could use my motorbike." Sirius's cherry red motorbike had been bought last summer, and was currently stored in Hogsmeade. It was practically begging to be used. There was just one little snag:

"It's not like it flies or something," Remus shook his head with a small smile. "It would take ages to get to Pitlochry on it!" Sirius's smile grew all the wider. I could practically predict what he was about to say, but I wasn't sure I'd be able to believe it.

"Ah, but my friend, it does fly!" He exclaimed triumphantly. My eyes must have been boggling out of my head, because I simply could not believe it. For some reason it was perfectly logical that magic could give me pulsing polka dots all over my skin, but complete unbelievable that it could make a motorcycle fly.

****

"Wheeee!" I shouted gleefully as we soared through the clouds. Remus also looked like he was loving it, especially since he got the beautiful view out of the side car. He laughed along, as Sirius grinned proudly. As we began our descent, I wrapped my hands slightly tighter around Sirius's waist.

"Be careful!" I gasped as we pointed towards the ground. It was fairly terrifying to be staring straight down to the ground. I pressed my forehead against Sirius's back.

"Alright love?" He turned slightly, a note of concern in his voice.

"Yep," I squeaked while taking a few deep breaths. I was a Gryffindor. I was brave. I was completely fine with being a few thousand feet off of the ground.

****

After many impromptu loop de loops, we finally landed in Pitlochry. My feet sunk into the soft snow, and I felt more grateful than I’d ever admit to be back on the ground again.

“Where to first?” Sirius clapped his mittened hands together in anticipation.

“The museum!” Remus suggested straight away. I nodded, thinking it would be fascinating to learn more about Michael Scot.

The museum was filled with fascinating Latin texts, of which a few had been transcribed into modern English. I perused these before following Sirius into the next part of the museum.

Remus stayed outside once he caught a glimpse of the starry sky. I patted his back gently, attempting a comforting action, before I went in.

The room was a doom filled with a moving mural of the night sky. The only difference was that it had been painted here directly by Michael Scot during his time studying astrology.

“That’s you!” I pointed up to the star Sirius as I took the real Sirius’s hand. “I think I like you better as a star,” I joked, leaning on his shoulder.

“Well you get the best of both worlds here then, because I’m a star as well as me!” He responded, overestimating his rockstar career for a moment.

“You’re my star,” I smiled softly towards him, and we walked back to Remus. I caught Sirius redden slightly before grinning.

****

On our path back to the main wizarding village (hidden from the view of muggle Pitlochry), we came across a small scrimmage of community quidditch. After preforming a few warming charms, we stood and cheered for each of the teams.

"Here snitch-y snitch," Sirius started to call, as if attempting to make a dog come to him. I grinned and joined in,

"Who's a good snitch?" I shouted, and surprisingly, the snitch seemed to respond. It veered towards us and whizzed right over the head of a chaser into the hands of Sirius.

An astonished look filled his face, and both the teams swooped over to congratulate him. After a series of pats on the back and handshakes, we finally excused ourselves and continued our walk to the main village.

We spent the rest of the morning wandering through various shops filled with owls, and potions, and parchment until eventually all of our hands were a bit too similar to ice blocks.

****

“Shall we duck in here?” Remus nodded towards the busy restaurant.

“M’lady,” Sirius bowed and opened the door for me. I giggled and passed elegantly through the door frame.

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug of Butterbeer, and breathed in the sweet, ginger scent. The band was playing a recent Weird Sisters release, and I tapped my toe to the beat.

As the chill wore off, I relaxed into Sirius’s arm which he had wrapped around my shoulders.

“What’s next?” I asked eagerly.

“Going back to Hogwarts?” Remus begged in a tired voice.

“Oh come on! You’ve had a great time Moony!” Sirius slugged his arm, with friendly affection of course.

“I have,” Remus admitted with a sly grin. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not concerned about our grades!” I did see his point, it was NEWTs year. But a little break never hurt anyone!

“Please Moony, your grades are of the least concern. You probably have three O’s and an E or something,” Sirius waved his hand, brushing away Remus’s concerns. Remus looked down bashfully, telling me that Sirius had guessed nearly right.

“Plus Slughorn’s been a real dragon in potions lately,” I recalled the terribly involved animagus potion we had to create last class. Fortunately I was paired with Sirius, which made it ten times easier.

"Fine! Get outta here Abe!" Our cheerful banter was interrupted by the shouts of the lead guitarist of the band that had been playing during our lunch. It would seem that the lead singer had quit for some reason unknown to us. The two other band mates looked shattered, despite their previously amazing performance.

I nudged Sirius. Of all the people I could think of that might be able to help this situation, he was the best fit.

"You should go up there!" I encouraged him. I saw a rare flicker of doubt cross his eyes, but with a friendly smile from Remus and I, he seemed to gather his courage.

"Yeah," Remus nodded enthusiastically.

"I promise to remember you both when I'm famous," Sirius shot us both a winning grin before heading up to the stage. We watched him whisper to the abandoned band members for a moment, who eventually looked enthusiastic.

We heard the energized strumming of a few opening chords, and Remus and I began to tap our toes in time. The song seemed to ring a bill, but I wasn't entirely sure where I'd heard it.

"Well, shake it up, baby, now!" Sirius began to sing. I grinned, realising it was the exact song we had eaten our breakfast to. Pausing to listen for a line or two, I saw how the energy of the quiet pub room changed. Gradually, it came alive. Sirius's energy was contagious. He nodded up to him, and I ran up.

"You know you look so good," He winked, grabbing my hand and giving me a quick spin. As I spun around, I noticed Remus inviting another girl close to our age to dance. And I spied an elderly couple doing a small shuffle together. Something about this tune just brought people together!

After pulling out my finest dance moves alongside a singing Sirius, I collapsed back into my seat and chugged the rest of my butterbeer.

"Merlin," I grinned with a bubbly happiness towards Remus. He grinned eagerly back.

"Don't tell Sirius," He teased, "But I have actually had a fun time today." He admitted slyly.

"I'm glad," I nodded. "I have to hand it to Sirius that this was a pretty fantastic day off."

#Sirius Black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fluff #sirius x reader #sirius x you #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #hp fanfic #hp one shot #collab #ferris bueller's day off

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therewrites · 4 years

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We Are Who We Are Overall Thoughts *spoilers*

This review will be discussing briefly some of the episodes so far, so SPOILERS

So I started watching the HBO original series, We Are Who We Are, and I am conflicted. When I initially watched it, the dialogue made it hard for me to enjoy it so I stopped. Then after a couple of weeks after its airing, I thought, what the hell? And this time, I was pleasantly surprised. I always maintain the belief that pilot episodes are either boring, messy, or just bad so I try to push past it in order to get to the good shit. The pilot for We Are Who We Are was...I’m not sure how to explain...different? It certainly wasn’t bad and it made an impression on me, but this show as a whole is hard to limit by just a few words. It’s really something that you should watch and experience yourself.

It was only after the first 3 episodes that I began to understand the tone and mood that Luca Guadagnino was trying to convey. A lot of the time, the dialogue is abrupt and choppy and can make no sense. It can be frustrating, especially when you have two characters that aren’t communicating effectively. But I think that was the point. Guadagnino is a very realistic director, he captures the most realistic elements in a film. A lot of the conversations between characters is meant to emulate real life. Like, what the hell do you say when a conversation becomes awkward? Well, nothing sometimes.

While Guadagnino’s typical cinematography may suggest whimsy, in WAWWA’s case the small structured and synthetic model of the military base is juxtaposed to the very concrete characters. When I started to view the show less as simply a televised airing of fictional characters and problems, and instead looked at them as people, I began to really enjoy it.

Take the main character of Fraser, played by Jack Dylan Grazer. Fraser is meant to be seen as an extremely complex and troubled kid, but the difference between him and every other teen in a coming-of-age drama is that he isn’t polished. His drinking and drug habit isn’t framed as romantic or beautiful, in fact most of the time it’s portrayed as his weakness of sorts. In the first episode, Fraser has one of his mothers drive him home after getting pretty wasted and Luca graces us with a direct shot of him throwing up. And before that, Fraser is stumbling on a bridge when he drunkenly falls and cuts his face. Everything the character does is messy, uncoordinated, yet extremely real and relatable. Hell, in one shot you can clearly see him do a Naruto run!

Caitlin/Harper is a character that I enjoyed watching, as well. Jordan Seamon did a fantastic job and I really connected with their character. Initially we see Caitlin as this mysterious girl, and in the pilot we are meant to assume that their relationship with Fraser is supposed to develop into a romantic one. This is not the case as it seems that Caitlin is trying to come to terms with who they are. The biggest shift in Caitlin’s character isn’t their friendship with Fraser but probably when they get their period.

This was a moment that even I related to, even though I am cis when I first got my period I didn’t tell my mom until the day after. The possible confusion and shift in their reality that Caitlin felt was only heightened with the conflict of their boyfriend wanting to be more physically intimate, and Fraser’s eventual discover of Harper. I would have like to see exactly why Fraser seemed drawn to Caitlin. I’m assuming viewers were supposed to think that Fraser is attracted to her, or something. But both Caitlin/Harper and Fraser are queer coded and their respective sexualities are alluded to not being straight. It would’ve made their standing as platonic friends more clear if this had been established stronger.

I definitely think the writer could have devoted more time to giving certain characters proper conversations. It would’ve given more development to certain characters and better context for things. However even without that, there is a lot that the audience is showed that can’t be told through dialogue. The power struggle between Sarah and Richard being one. So far, there hasn’t been any explanation as to why they have a such a volatile relationship other than Richard being a homophobe.

Through deeper inspection, I was able to interpret it as: Richard may heavily resent the fact the Sarah was promoted to Colonel and not him. It is never made clear who has the better credentials, Sarah or Richard, but assuming that she was the one promoted it is a safe guess. This may be highlighted by the fact that Sarah is a women, and also gay. Even before episode 7, it was clear that Richard did not respect her authority. I also interpreted it as Richard being upset that and openly gay women was promoted instead of him, a black man.

Of course this is just based on my own personal knowledge of how the U.S. military can be towards people of color and LGBTQ+. Regardless, the competitive tension between two parents is palpable without needing dialogue to explain.

When conflict happens, I can kind of figure out which characters are going to react and which one’s will stay silent. I think the show is trying to accomplish a drastically realistic and raw series. It took me while to adjust to it, but by maybe the 2nd or 3rd episode, it starts to grow on you. Despite not liking a good majority of the characters, I was very surprised by how invested I was in them.

Like, Danny is my least favorite character because he displays very abusive and explosive tendencies, and doesn’t seem to care about the world around him. However, getting glimpses into his character and seeing how Richard ignores him for Caitlin/Harper, his suicidal thoughts, and how he is trying to reclaim his cultural and religious background makes me empathize with him.

Even though I hate his character, I can see that he is struggling. I appreciate the way that this show freely shows dark skinned black boys dealing with mental health issues, and personal development. Rarely are issues like suicide talked about in the black community, so seeing Danny talk about it and Craig offering(admittedly poor)comfort was touching. This is a general vibe that I get from nearly all the characters on WAWWA. I also appreciated the how Danny is actively trying to convert to Islam. In shows, rarely is Islam ever portrayed in a positive manner. Especially when female characters are shown to be struggling with their religion, Islam is shown as this barrier that prevents them from living life. Hopefully it goes without saying that the “taking off the hijab” as a way to show that a female character is “liberated” is overplayed and does not offer any respect to the countless Muslim women who choose to wear hijabs.

Now I think the pacing of some of the storylines could have been handled a bit more gracefully. Like how we jump from Fraser and Harper being kind of enemies(not really but you know what I mean), to just them hanging out in Richard’s boat was jarring. I would have at least liked to see the scene of them talking on the rocks at the beach. It would’ve given more insight on Caitlin/Harper’s character and also on Fraser too. Also how quickly Maggie and Lu(Jennifer but I love the name Lubaba, it’s my aunt’s name)jump into a physical affair. I just would have liked to see a build up of tension between all these characters but I don’t think this entirely ruins the plot.

I was very iffy when I learned that the show would be focusing on trans identity and gender and sexuality, but not actually hire a trans male actor. I was afraid that the show would completely botch the experiences of being transgender, and honestly I don’t have the authority to speak on whether or not this affects the quality of the show. I am cisgender, and only can empathize with this particular situation as much as I can. But I would like to hear to the opinion of someone who is trans and elaborate on the ways that they did/didn’t like Jordan Kristine Seamón’s portrayal.

Now at the time I’m writing this, the season finale has yet to come out. But I’d also like to briefly discuss the most recent episode and how it developed Jonathan and Fraser’s relationship. I was VERY worried that Guadagnino was going to take their relationship in the direction of inappropriate. While nearly all the depictions of Jonathan and his actions have been trough Fraser’s pov, it didn’t stop me from side-eyeing some of the interactions they shared. Of course after it was mentioned that Jonathan was supposed to be in his late 20s, nearing 30 I was immediately uncomfortable with the very flirty behavior he exhibited.

So when the scene of Fraser going up to his apartment after Craig’s death, I was very on edge. If Guadagnino had gone the extra mile to show an even larger age gap then I would’ve been pissed. While I enjoyed Call Me By Your Name, the implication that sexual relationships between barely legal teenagers and adults well into their 20s was sensual is something that I see as very weird now that I’m older. So seeing Jonathan as the object of Fraser’s affections made me extremely warry.

And honestly, I’m still surprised that the scene even happened in its entirety. I’m sure that Jack was not in any danger of being exploited but there were definitely points while watching I thought, what the fuck is going on? I was very worried that it would escalate, but I was happy to see that Fraser was the one who stopped it from going further. It made sense to me that this scene took so many liberties to be as graphic as possible without being too graphic, in order to show why a situation like that would be scary and confusing for Fraser. It wasn’t lost to me that Marta and Jonathan were the one’s initiating all the sexual advances. They held all the power in that scenario, even more so because Fraser is younger and has the tendencies to not make the best decisions. Though it seemed that Fraser was trying, he knew that the situation was fucked up.

I’d like to hear what JDG felt and thought doing this scene. What was his character’s thought process?

I’ve seen a lot of people compare the show heavily to CMBYN, which is fine. Besides certain cinematic parallels that people pointed out, I don’t see the clear comparison. CMBYN is more of a love story and it’s more polished than WAWWA. Now when I say tat, I don’t mean it as a negative. Rather, We Are Who We is obviously more devoted to realism and its characters. I appreciate the inclusion of more LGBTQ+ people and black main characters with development, something that CMBYN lacked. And for some people who didn’t like the show based solely on the fact that it wasn’t a CMBYN tv show, I suggest just going into it with no expectations and enjoy the mess.

And I’d also like to take a moment to commend Jack Dylan Grazer for his job in We Are Who We Are. All of the main cast are amazing actors and actresses and did a really good job bringing their characters to life. Though, I had always associated JDG with supporting roles that, while highlighted his acting talent, only put him in a one-dimensional light. As good as It 2017 was, JDG’s role of Eddie is only meant to be seen as a comic relief. In WAWWA, I was able to forget that he was teen actor, Jack Dylan Grazer, and really see him as Fraser. It’s worth mentioning that in a GQ interview, Grazer also mentioned how this role made him reevaluate is approach to acting.

And after reading an interview he did with a Interview Germany, with him saying he spent months in Italy reading the script and trying to perfectly craft this character, I was immensely impressed. I hope that he knows that all his hard work payed off and made a really dynamic and interesting character. I really hope that in the future JDG continues with more mature or multi-dimensional roles because he displayed that he has the talent to do so. Him being so young makes me optimistic in knowing that he is definitely going places in his career. I also hope that there will be a season 2 of WAWWA because despite having hour long episodes, the show still felt way too short. There is a lot about Fraser’s character, and all the others’ characters, that I want more information and analysis on.

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