#dean charles chapman imagines

[spider-stark]

Reasons why recasting Kieran Burton as Benji just makes sense: 1. They recycled Dean-Charles Chapman and nobody really batted an eye. 2. The HYPE Kieran generated from his 2-minute screentime as a minor bouse Blackwood member is insane, imagine him actually playing THE Bloody Ben. 3. "He's WAY too old to play Ben!!" Well HBO aged up all of their characters and/or used older actors to portray teenagers anyway...and it still somehow works? (Robb is 17 in s1, played by a 24-year old Richard Madden. Ppl still loved him!) Anyway #KieranBurtonforBenjicotBlackwood

honestly

I've said it a million times, but: Kieran Burton would have been an amazing Bloody Ben.

in less than a three second promo clip he had the entire internet in an uproar and managed to perfectly encapsulate the essence of a character that he wasn't even playing regardless of the fact that he wasn't 'the correct age'.

all of these are valid points and idk how hbo looked at kieran burton and didn't think that he was the perfect benji

[leliosinking]

Okay wild thought, but what if after Avatar 4/5 are done filming.. Bailey came back? But hear me out.. what if she was recast as Merrick? Like the character would have to be massively overhauled, but imagine the surrealist potential of having both Bailey and Delainey on screen and using the séance/possession sequence to essentially alternate the role within the space of that scene? Like they would still be playing separate characters but they would also both be playing both roles? I’ll try to explain.

I should say that this will only work if you ascribe to the theory that 2022 Dubai is occurring in a hybrid of the Merrick and Prince Lestat timelines. But essentially imagine Armand filling in for David Talbot (and we would be scrapping the grooming) and Louis would be working towards the séance. It would also immediately give him something significant to do once his primary arc is finished after season 2.

So I was thinking about how you could essentially film the summoning scene 4 times, and then use the edit and lighting to strategically alternate between Bailey-as-Merrick conducting the ceremony, Bailey-as-Ghost!Claudia posessing Merrick (maybe even in Claudia’s costume???), Delainey-as-Ghost!Claudia, and finally Delainey-as-Possessed!Merrick.

And they could really play this up throughout the course of the season. Like maybe when Louis initially encounters Merrick he confuses her with Claudia (similar to Joel mistaking strangers for his daughter in The Last of Us) but you can also play with the audience’s perception, as by this point we will be more familiar with Delainey as the character and occasionally having either actress fill in for the other could add to a deliberate sense of confusion and mysticism that comes with the character.

Louis and Merrick’s relationship could also be more of a surrogate father/daughter thing, rather than romantic, thus filling in more of Talbot’s excised role (but again, without the grooming) while still keeping an air of mystery around Merrick.

I guess I was just thinking about how Game of Thrones was able to recast/upgrade Dean Charles Chapman from playing Martyn Lannister to playing Tommen Baratheon and this could be a similar opportunity to create a sort of full circle moment for an OG cast member, while sort of winking at the audience.

Or maybe it would all be annoyingly meta I dunno lol.

[babyscilence]

I know Dean Charles Chapman plays a jedi already

But he's literally how I imagine Bardan Jusik

[katrantsasoiaf]

on twitter everyone is losing their mind about the alleged aegon the conqueror prequel and the supposed pitch about aegon being a "drunken lout" or something. but like

even if that was the case, they seemed bothered by the idea of aegon being interesting. like, most of the criticism of a supposed pitch that we have no information about besides one tiny tidbit with zero context. it's merely the idea that aegon i is anything less than "the most disciplined" of the targaryen kings or something. but aegon i is easily the most boring of the aegons in the story because he has no actual personality. i mean this so very genuinely.

aegon ii even with the small amount of characterization that he recieves in fire and blood, at least he had some defining traits and flaws, a character arc, and a downfall. aegon iii as well is a child at the end of fire and blood and got more characterization than the grownass aegon i. aegon iv is a terrible person, but we know so much about him and his actions and his relationships to other characters. aegon v is a main character of the dunk and egg stories.

meanwhile, aegon has no personality.

i saw the description, and being charitable, it could make sense for his character based on his supposed dream in house of the dragon.

mostly because i envision him as prince hal in this pitch. if you don't know, "prince hal" refers to the media critisim of the characterization of young henry v in shakespeare's plays henry iv, in which he is characterized as wayward youth who enjoys the company of petty criminals and wastrels. that is until his ascension in henry v in which he becomes this great warrior king who conquerors the french crown for england during the hundred year war.

basically the plot of netflix's "the king" with timothée chalamet (you know, the movie everyone in this fandom uses to make edits of book!jon snow, and fun fact, dean charles chapman aka tommen and tom glynn-carney aka aegon ii feature in this movie too).

so, i would imagine aegon the conqueror as a youth on dragonstone. his father, aerion, is ruling still and aegon is unmarried. perhaps he is like prince hal, with no real purpose in his life, just living his life up on the island with no responsibilities or burdens.

and then one day, he has his dream. of the white walkers, of the long night, of the prince that was promised. and perhaps it's this horrible dream that causes him to realize that he needs to end his past behavior and begin planning for the future, to prepare for the threat in the north. like how rhaegar found the prophecy and then decided that "it seems i must be a warrior", aegon will decide "it seems i must be a conqueror". and that's when we get him visiting westeros for the first time, ordering the painted table be made, etc.

or perhaps it's because of this dream that for a time he becomes a wastrel. much like his descendant, daeron the drunken who was also burdened with the gift of prophecy, who drank and whored to cope with the trauma of his visions. perhaps, aegon also sought to run from the burden of destiny in wine and ale. until he changed his mind and began his plotting of the conquest. maybe at the behest of his sisters, rhaenys and visenya, to not ignore his dream.

idk, but either of these would have the potential for character development. the idea that his mysterious (aka personality-deprived) characterization in fire and blood was due to a calculated transformation by aegon the conqueror to preserve his own mysticism. that he has not always been this person history views him as, but rather it was someone who he needed to become because he believed that he was required to by destiny.

perhaps i should have prefaced this post with the fact that i hate aegon the conqueror. and a show about the conquest is a terrible idea of a lot of reasons (a blackfyre rebellion show would be much better. honestly who do i have to pay to get a dunk and egg show?)

but this was the weird reason that fans latched onto that derives from the same problem a lot of stans had when hotd came out. which is that most characters in fire and blood are very bare bones, if they have any characterization to begin with. and readers fill in the blanks with their headcanons. but when adapted, the writers had to fill in the gaps themselves, and then fans get made when that doesn't match their headcanons. which to be honest, i do the same.

but until an actual synopsis is dropped, the outrage about aegon the conqueror's character assassination is ridiculous.

you need a character first to assassinate.

[the-ravenclaw-werewolf]

Actually, now that I have thought it over, I think it would be better to add live action TV adaptations to possible candidates for the 40, but for characters from Live Action TV Shows.

I would include...

Jon Snow from Game of Thrones

Shawn Spencer from Psych

Michael Scott or Jim Halpert from The Office

Leslie Knope or Ron Swanson from Parks and Rec

Edmund Blackadder or Baldrick from Blackadder

Neil from The Young Ones

and Gilligan from Gilligan's Island

What live action TV Shows would you pick?

There were so many shows that it was so hard to pick! But I did my best:

The Addams Family (1964): Gomez or Mortica

BBC Sherlock: John Watson (I know there are some who don’t like this version, but I like the idea of John becoming even more badass and getting a leg up on Sherlock).

Good Omens: Aziraphale or Crowley 

Merlin: Merlin of Arthur (I’m just imagining Arthur being surrounded by modern technology and calling it “sorcery!”)

House MD: House

Gilligan's Island: Gilligan

M*A*S*H: Hawkeye or Klinger (Look, the man KILLED IT in those dresses and was committed!)

Star Trek: The Original Series: Kirk or Spock

The Nanny: Fran or Niles

The Golden Girls: Rose or Dorothy or Sophia or Blanche (Listen, for so long I have wanted to see Niles from The Nanny and Sophia go toe to toe in an insult competition, so this is the closest I can get!)

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air: Will Smith

Knight Rider (1982): Michael Knight or KITT (Can you imagine three of the people waking up in a room only to find a talking car with them as well?)

Dexter: Dexter

Fringe: Olivia or Walter or Peter

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington (The babysitter needs to be prepare) or El

Doctor Who: Tenth Doctor

Supernatural: Sam or Dean or Castiel

The Good Doctor: Shaun Murphy

Breaking Bad: Walter White or Jesse Pinkman

The Handmaid's Tale: June Osborne

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Buffy

Roswell (1999): Liz Parker or Max Evans

Fleabag: Fleabag

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel: Miriam Maisel

Orange Is The New Black: Piper Chapman

Psych: Shawn Spencer

The Office: Michael Scott or Jim Halpert

Parks and Rec: Leslie Knope or Ron Swanson

Brooklyn Nine-Nine: Jake Peralta or Ray Holt

MacGyver (1985): Angus MacGyver

NCIS: Leroy Gibbs

Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid

The X-Files: Dana Scully or Fox Mulder

Full House: Jesse Katsopolis or Danny Tanner or Joey Gladstone

Corner Gas: Brent

Downton Abbey: Charles Carson

Monk: Adrien Monk

The Queen's Gambit: Beth Harmon

Columbo: Columbo

Murder, She Wrote: Jessica Beatrice Fletcher

[strangethings-everywhere]

Beautiful Ruins // Royal!Dean x Knight!George AU // Ch.3

Masterlist Ch.1 // Ch.2

Wordcount: 1414 Warnings: cursing, dean tries to fight everyone Author’s note: hello lads i’ve returned from war

---

Dean and George continued to spar for what felt like hours, the adrenaline coursing through their veins like a drug. Dean couldn’t remember feeling that happy in years. Being the crown prince, the only friends he could remember having were the knights who were assigned to him and the young dignitaries who visited. 

He was so lonely, but he loved the feeling of having a friend. Was this what being normal felt like?

“George?” Dean glanced over at the other boy. The two of them had just finished another match and were lying next to each other on the grass. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you my friend?” 

George scoffed, turning to look at Dean. “Of course I am. What kind of foolish question is that?” 

Dean felt his face heat up. “I just… I’ve never had a friend before.” He absentmindedly ran his fingers through the grass. “It’s just new, that’s all.” 

George was quiet, his blue eyes studying Dean with new curiosity. Dean refused to meet the other boy’s eyes, his face flushed. 

“Dean, are you a knight?”

“What?” 

“Are you,” George sat up cross-legged, twirling strands of grass in his fingers, “a knight?”  

Dean closed his eyes with a sigh. He didn’t want to tell George who he was, but he knew that there were holes in his story. He also knew that if George was truly on his way to being a knight, he would eventually find out about all of Dean’s lies. On the other hand, he knew that their relationship, as new as it was, would completely change if George found out he was royalty. He still had no idea how George didn’t already know, but he’d do anything to keep this comfortable dynamic they had. 

“I mean, what else would I be doing here?” Dean answered weakly. It was truly the worst excuse he could offer and he wished he could sink into the ground. You absolute moron. 

“You just don’t fight, y’know, like a knight.” George began picking at a cut on his forearm. “At least not like anyone I’ve ever trained with. You’ve got fancier footwork.” He smirked. “And your clothes are nicer.” 

“They’re just clean,” Dean mumbled. He was sure his face was blazing red. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re hiding something and I wanna know what.” George rolled onto his back again. “Especially if you can get me some lessons with whoever taught you how to fight.” 

Dean groaned. “George, I have to tell you something.”

“I was right!”

“Shut up.” Dean sat up and ran his hands through his hair. “I’m-”

“YOUR HIGHNESS!” The loud voice of Lord Christopher echoed across the courtyard, bringing Dean to his feet. The sallow paleness of his father’s advisor was just visible in the archways leading into the castle. He looked upset, as usual. 

“Your Highness…” George finally made the connection as he looked back and forth between Dean and Lord Christopher, his eyes wide. “Don’t tell me… you’re not-” 

“We’ll talk about this later. I’m being summoned.” Dean pulled George to his feet. “Thank you for today and for last night. Don’t hate me.” 

Before George could answer him, Dean grabbed his sword and walked away. He felt his hands begin to shake, the grip around his sword tightening. As he approached Lord Christopher, the gnawing anger returned to him.

“You better have a good fucking reason for this.” He hissed. 

“Of course my prince. Your father has requested your presence.” Lord Christopher looked down at him with an amused curl of his lips. “I do hope that I haven’t interrupted anything.” 

“Fuck off.” Dean snarled. He shoved past the man and practically ran towards his father’s quarters. 

His father had a private war room where he spent most of his time, accompanied only by Lord Christopher and the servants who aided and fed him. Dean tried to avoid his father at all costs, but he knew that the war room was the only place his father would see him. 

Dean reached the thick oak double doors in a matter of minutes. He shoved past the guards and practically stumbled into the room, panting hard. “Father!”

His father, the King, turned slowly to face him, his expression one of immense disappointment at the sight of his eldest son and heir. The only feature shared between father and son was their body type: King Henry was tall and strong, built to be a warrior. Dean was built like his father, like a knight, but still hadn’t reached his height. He looked too much like his mother, with his lighter hair and cerulean eyes. His father was dark grey hair and haunted hazel eyes. His father was war and always had been. His mother, the late Queen Ophelia, had been sunshine personified and an angel to all. 

Henry hadn’t deserved her. Dean hated him. 

“Hello, son. I thought you’d never show.” Henry held out his arms to Dean as if he wanted to embrace him. Dean didn’t move, his arms crossed. “Drink with me?” Henry moved towards a pitcher of wine. 

“I’m alright thanks.” 

“Oh, I’ve heard. How’s the hangover?” His father handed him a goblet anyway, his grin malicious. “Don’t look so surprised, of course I know about your nightly escapades. How else do you think you’re getting out of the castle so easily?”

Dean’s heart dropped to his shoes. He thought he’d had this one solitary thing, this one secret from his father. What he thought was his sliver of freedom had never really been his. It made sense; his life had never really been his. Everything he had belonged to his father.

“I-I…”

“Speak up boy!” Henry bellowed, slamming his goblet on the table with a bang. Dean flinched, his hands shaking. 

“I didn’t think you knew.” It took all of Dean’s concentration to keep his voice steady. His comment only made his father laugh. 

“Of course I did! Do you think I’d let my son,” another bang of the goblet, “my heir, wander the streets unsupervised?” Dean could smell the alcohol on Henry’s breath. “Especially this close to your birthday. Especially this close to your first command.”

Dean almost laughed. His father didn’t care about his birthday. He only cared that Dean was about to go to war, this time in a position of power. 

“How did you know I got drunk?” Dean asked. 

“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, but I had a special pair of eyes on you last night.” Henry wiggled his eyebrows. “A companion of sorts.” 

“Did you pay a prostitute to spy on me?!” Dean snapped. Henry broke into a deep belly laugh, wine spilling onto the floor. 

“No, no.” He wiped tears from his eyes, a few drunk giggles escaping as he grinned at Dean. “Even better.” 

The guards knocked at the door and Henry called for them to enter. Dean slowly turned, his blood roaring in his ears. 

George stood in the doorway, dressed in the dark coat and trousers of His Majesty’s Private Guard. His blond hair, which had been messy not thirty minutes beforehand, was clean and styled out of his face. He was wearing shiny black boots and his black gloves bore the royal coat of arms. 

He was a fucking knight. Not only that, he was part of the King’s inner circle of knights, his most elite. 

Dean’s world seemed to blur. He could hear his father laughing in the background but it sounded like he was underwater. George’s mouth was moving, but Dean could barely hear him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

Before he could stop himself, Dean knocked George off his feet with a swipe of his leg. He heard someone draw their sword and he didn’t realize it was him until he saw the tip of his blade at George’s throat. 

“Dean…” George’s voice was calm, soft. It made Dean so fucking angry. 

“You lied to me.” Dean’s hands were shaking, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. That gnawing feeling was eating his insides, taunting him. He wanted to spill blood, he wanted to kill someone. 

“Dean.” His father’s voice made him spin around, sword raised. His father hit the flat of the blade with a powerful blow of his fist and the sword fell out of Dean’s grip. “George is your protection. I’ve assigned him to you.”

“What?” His brain was so jumbled that he could barely comprehend what his father was saying.

“He’s following you to war.” 

[britishboystm]

Photographs (Tom Blake)

Warnings: fluff, slight angst

Word Count: 1432

A/N: idea from @blueeyedheizer 🥰🥰🥰

...

It was too close a call. They had barely made it out alive. Ringing in the ears from the explosion and the sudden change to the bright outside caused discomfort for the two young lance corporals.

Once the ringing subdued for Tom, he was met with the sounds of Will choking. Dust most likely from being buried alive underneath the German bunker they had just passed through.

Catching his breath, Tom turned to Will to check on him.

“Here.” Was all he spoke while handing over his petrol can of water. Without even a single word of gratitude, Will snatched the bottle and poured the water in his mouth, immediately spitting it out after to get rid of the taste of rubble. Then he used the last little bit to clear his vision.

“Thank you.” He gasped out while weakly handing it back to the younger soldier.

Tom took back the empty bottle with slight irritation, having no clue when they may come across clean water again on their long journey. As he went to place the bottle back in his harnessed satchel, he felt as though something was missing. His breath caught in his throat as he grabbed the casing to reveal it was empty.

“No, no, no!” He yells suddenly. Will jumps slightly at Tom's sporadic outburst.

“What?”

“My photograph, it’s missing!” He cries out, still looking inside the case, desperately hoping that the photo in question would magically reappear in its original spot.

“What photograph?” Will was getting slightly irritated. This mission was so crucial and time was of the essence, but here they were standing around as Tom panics about a piece of film.

“Of Y/N, it was the only photo I had of her when I left. I need that photo Will.” This was astonishing. Will had yet to see Tom be so vulnerable and sad. Of course he now understood how important this photograph was. Tom really only talked about three things- his family, his dog and you, but mostly you.

You were a muse for Tom, a motivator. You were the main reason Tom needed to come out of this war alive. He had promised he would marry you when he returned and by god he would never break a promise.

“Tom, I’m sure it’s around but we really don’t have the time.” Tom had already turned around and was speed walking towards the collapsed bunker.

He planted himself in a random spot amongst the destruction and began sifting through the rock and wood panels left behind.

“Tom.” Will said sternly. All he received in return was Tom speeding up his actions in a more frantic way. Sobbing was then added to the mix.

“Tom!” Will now yells, marching over and grabbing Tom by the arms.

“No, get off me! I need to find it!” Tom resisted heavily against Will as he tried to lead him away from the disaster.

“Tom we need to get to your brother.” Tom stopped and fell to his hands and knees, sobbing like no tomorrow.

“I can’t lose her Will.” He whimpers as his tears mix with the grey powdered rock beneath him.

“Tom we have to keep walking.” Tom stayed silent for a moment, regaining his composure and letting out a couple sniffles before standing up and dusting himself off,

“Let’s get to your brother yeah?” Will says grabbing Tom's shoulder and leading him away from where your photo was buried deep, never to be retrieved.

As they continued to walk, Tom visualized you in that photo. How your hair was pinned up in a messy bun, strands of hair slightly falling down from the up-do in different places. The dress you wore was a mixture of white and light blue lace and since it had been taken for your birthday, the necklace Tom had got you sat gently on your exposed upper chest.

Then after taking a hold of that image in his mind, Tom began repeating the words you had written on the back to himself;

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day’s

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

Come home to me Thomas

Always yours,

Y/N

You had bought him a book of poetry a couple years back and whenever he could he would read ‘How do I love Thee,’ by Elizabeth Barrett Browning to you underneath both your favourite cherry tree on his farm.

The importance of trying to remember how you looked in that photo as well as the words you had written down was almost impossible to explain. Tom had a bad feeling that if he were to die in this war, it would mean he wouldn’t ever see you again. Having that photo in his head would allow him to fill his mind with you as his final thought.

———

You sat on the porch impatiently causing loud creaking on the stairs from your leg bouncing. Tom would come home today.  You had longed to hold and kiss him after these 2 long agonizing years of separation. It was close to unbearable.

Myrtle laid at your feet as the puppies played in the grass not far from where you were. The cool November air nipped at you causing you to tug your knitted shawl tighter around your upper body.

The smell of a roast beef dinner wafted out from the kitchen window. Iris had missed her boys so much and this was her unique way of expressing her excitement and happiness. This was a ugly war, and you were just so grateful Tom was able to get out of there alive.

It felt like eternity. The sun was now setting, allowing oranges and pinks to fill your vision. Any cloud that sat in the atmosphere was tinted the same colour as the sunset as well. Because the sun was now falling behind the horizon, any heat that would have kept you at a somewhat comfortable temperature had disappeared. Myrtle and the puppies had all huddled up into your lap and around you, also feeling the coolness. But they waited, almost as though they knew Tom was coming.

You had been too preoccupied scratching behind Myrtles ear that you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps walking up the driveway. The crunch of the gravel alerted Myrtle and her head shot up, admitting a loud bark as she jumped away from your side and down to the two men approaching. You looked up to see a tired Tom and Joe bend down to greet the hyperactive dog as she jumped at their legs. The puppies had tried to follow their mom, allowing their tiny legs to carry them as quickly as they could.

Your shawl fell down your shoulders as your breath caught in your throat. Your stomach was holding a circus as you let out a scream,

“Tom!” You bolted down the steps and sprinted down to meet them. Tom’s eyes diverted from the labrador and gave you a beaming smile, starting his run in your direction. Meeting halfway you jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his torso. He let out a content laugh as you grabbed his face in your hands.

“Oh Tom.” You swooned as you sprinkled every single part of his face with kisses. He placed you down and grabbed your face as well, taking in your features.

“Just like the picture.” He whispered while using his thumb to wipe a tear away from your flushed cheek. You didn’t know what he was talking about but you didn’t care. You were just happy to see him again. You then bite your lip before slowly going in for another deep and intimate kiss.

“Nice to see you too Y/N.” Joe chuckled jokingly as both you and Tom stayed preoccupied with expressing your love for one another.

[beetl3bum]

Holding Out (Dean Charles Chapman x reader)

A knock at the door. 

“Hmm I was just thinking of y-” you begin to say before his lips put a halt to yours.

“Love you have no idea,” he says. It’s Dean, his hair is messy, and you had promised each other you would stay in separate rooms tonight. 

Without missing a beat, he comes inside the room and begins taking off your jacket. He rubs your arms and runs his hands down to your waist. Before he gets too handsy, you say

“Woah easy there tiger. I have somewhere to be soon,”

He kisses you again and stares. 

“You serious...?” he asks, face still dangerously close to yours.

“I was just on my way out, you coming with me?”

“How much time’ we got then?” he says asking impatiently.

You get up and walk toward the door and dangle the key in between your finger. He gets up and grabs your jacket for you, placing it over your shoulders and kissing my neck as he stands behind you. 

Your lips wrestle some more in the hallway before you stop and stare at him. He leans in to kiss you but you turn away and walk ahead. It drives him crazy. 

He holds your hand down the elevator, kissing it before you both walk out. Walking toward a crowd of men, Dean wasn’t one to act insecure. He knew how crazy you are for him, because he is for you as well. He does however, put a hand on your waist. He lowers them, not too much, but just enough to put his thumb through the belt buckle of your pants. You look at him. 

He drives fast in your car, so when you put on the radio he glances over. There’s tension in the air that you both don’t want to address just yet so you let it linger just a little longer. 

You sway a little to the music as he smiles to himself. Not too long after, he turns into an empty lot. Without hesitating or even pausing to think about it, you both get out of the car to get into the backseats. As you lay on the seats he holds your waist and helps you get my pants off. 

“You tease,” he says.

“Mmmm” you say back.

You help his shirt come off, he helps with yours. He kisses parts all over your body and makes a lot of sweet gestures that come before sweet sounds of pleasure that fill the car. Eventually, after the car has been fogged up with our breaths and the rock playlist from your phone has stopped, you realize how long you two have been sitting naked, in an empty lot. 

You kiss his lips softly and hold the back of his neck. Before he goes to kiss your chest again you stop him.

“Dean,” you say to get his attention. His attention is on you, straddling his waist but not on what you’re trying to say just yet. 

“Dean,” you say one more time. He looks up and you can feel him through his pants.

“I really.... I really do have to go to this meeting,” you say tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. I rub his earlobe to relax him. You know he’s still adrenaline filled: he’s sweaty, his cheeks are as rosy as ever, and he’s still panting just the tiniest bit. 

“Can’t you be late?” he pleads.

Mmmm-mmm you say, negating what he says. He takes a big sigh and kisses your cheek one more time. 

“Wait there,” he says as he puts his clothes back on. While he gets out of the car and takes another look around, just to make sure we were actually alone, you put your shirt back on. 

He opens the door for you, and holds your hand as you get out of the car. You kiss once more passionately and enter the passenger seat again. He begins driving, smiling with his hand over the back of your chair. He is in love, you are in love. 

[george-mackay-macfine]

Can we just imagine one of these men saying this to you. Whoaaa.

[ditch-witches]

do you think you could write a smut where dean is stressed out so the reader gives him a blowjob to help him out?

pairing: Dean Charles Chapman x reader

warnings: nsfw (18+ but i'm not your mom [unless like,,, you ask nicely]), oral (m. receiving), suggestive language, there’s only so many words for dick im SoRRY, also i'm writing this at 4 in the morning so who knows what else. 

Dean ran his fingers through his hair, pulling the cap off a highlighter with his teeth as he broke down another scene from the script he recently received. For no reason in particular, this character was getting on his nerves and testing his weaknesses as an actor. You wrung your hands as you silently paced in front of his office door, debating whether or not to intrude on him while he was so obviously frustrated. You listened as he shifted in his chair, the plastic creaking as he leaned back and rubbed his eyes. You took a deep breath before rapping your knuckles against the wood of the door frame, pulling his attention towards you as his eyes softened at the sight of you. 

You noticed how his hair was getting almost too long as it curled around his ears and framed his face, dark circles around his light eyes making him look a few years older than he actually was. "How's it going?" You asked, stepping into the room as his eyes followed you to turn on another lamp. 

He sighed tiredly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desktop. "Well," he paused, a small grin tugging at his lips before continuing, "it's going." You moved across the floor to stand behind him. Your hands settled against his shoulders, letting your fingers dig into his skin softly to soothe the knot forming between his shoulder blades. He groaned at the feeling, reclining back into your touch happily. 

"Anything I can do to help?" You inquired softly, stooping down to smooth a kiss to his cheek. He hummed in response, his eyes shutting momentarily as he relaxed as your hands kneaded against his arms. You combed your brain for how to ease his mind as he exhaled. 

And then it hit you. “Fancy a break?” You asked, your hands continuing their motions and he muttered an agreement before swinging out his chair to stand. You stepped in front of him, pushing his chest so he plopped back down. Dean’s eyes flashed up to you with a raised eyebrow and a small grin on his face. He studied your every move as you blatantly pushed your hair out of your face and tied it back into a ponytail as you bent down between his legs. 

His lips parted into an almost shocked expression as if he was waiting for you to back out and tell him it was some kind of a prank. You dragged your nails alongside his thigh as he leaned forward slightly. He smirked at you, settling one of his hands into your hair. You turned your head to press a kiss to his palm and bat your eyes at him suggestively. “You’re doing such a good job. Don’t tire yourself out,” you cooed, coyly. Dean nearly rolled his eyes, knowing what you were up to. 

You sat up on your knees to capture his lips against yours, eliciting a small moan to echo from his throat at the taste of you. Your hand traveled up his thigh and towards his zipper, his other hand moving to assist you as he grabbed your wrist. You allowed his tongue to slip into your mouth as he pulled you into a deeper kiss. Your fingers icked to please him as you began to palm him through his jeans, his body responding quickly to your advances like it was the first time you’d ever touched him. 

As he began to harden beneath your gesture, your lips found their way to his jaw, your teeth skimming across his skin to tease a blush to his cheeks. You coaxed his erection further before you began to unclasp his pants. “Relax, baby,” you murmured against his skin. He moaned softly as your lips traced the divots of his collar bones, your tongue swirling as if to hint at what was in store. You sank back on the balls of your feet, your hand reaching up to push him flat against the chair back. He bit his lip to fight the smile threatening to break across his features as your fingers curled around the base of his cock. He tensed under your grip as you began to pump your hand, drawing out another hushed moan from the man above you. “Does that feel good?” You taunted, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 

He exhaled heavily in response, one of his hands moving to rest on your forearm for some kind of support as you encouraged his further arousal. You let your tongue dart out across your lips before pressing them to the sensitive skin of his tip. You focused on how each of your actions caused his body to relax, a small sense of pride swelling deep inside of you at the fact that it was so easy for you to pleasure him. You eased your mouth around his erection, your tongue swirling around his shaft. As your head began to move in tandem with your hand, you basked in the growing vulgarity of his words. 

You pulled your mouth off of him, continuing to speed your hand motions gradually as your teeth etched into his thigh. You could watch him unravel for you for the rest of your life; his gaze hazy as he avoided your sultry eye contact, his lips red and aggravated from harsh attempts at keeping himself quiet. Some of his curls were tugged back from being pulled at, his blissed-out expression creating a more prominent redness to his cheeks. Your lips slowly traveled back to his cock, an almost pleading look settling into his bright irises as your intentions were now directed on taking him deeper. 

His grip on your arm tightened as you pushed his tip past your lips once again, a strangled groan of pure pleasure hissing through his teeth. As he reached the back of your throat, tears began to brim in the corners of your eyes and his arousal twitched in your mouth. You began to bob your head once again, edging him on further with each of his moans of your name which you knew was a warning that he was close. You alternated the movements of your mouth and hand, making him fight against bucking his hips towards you. His cock tensed and in an instant, hot sticky strands of pleasure were filling your mouth. 

You brushed a hand across your chin and Dean leaned forward, digging his fingers into your hair to capture your lips in a worshiping kiss. He moaned against your mouth, sending a vibration straight to your core. You severed the action and stood, leaving him nearly breathless. “Don’t overwork yourself,” you taunted with a small wink, making him look up at you with an almost submissive undertone as he nodded. 

[icatiegrace]

1917 (2019)

dir. Sam Mendes

“I am a poor wayfaring stranger. I’m travelling through this world of woe. Yet there's no sickness, toil, nor danger. In that bright land to which I go.” 

[valterras]

george mackay george mackay george mackay george mackay george mackay george mackay

george mackay george mackay george mackay

george mackay george mackay george mackay

george mackay george mackay

[propertyofwicked]

Your a-z s are so good!! Omg you’re so talented☺️ could you possibly do one for George? We would all love that💕

thank you anons for these requests. im quite busy atm so im sorry if other requests take a while and thank you for being patient with me.

a-z of dating george mackay

a - argue

neither you or george are shouters, instead you go very quiet when something goes wrong or upsets either one of you. george would huff and mumble, until one of you grew the balls to talk through the issue. you’d be sat on the sofa and he’d just come and sit facing you, taking your hands in his and press his lips to them softly. this was his way of saying he was ready to talk.

b - body (his favourite body part of yours)

george loves your lips and your cheeks. he loves watching you talk, how your mouth moves and he loves how effortlessly your voice tumbles out. he loves how your smile grows when you laugh, small dimples forming in your cheeks - it was enough to make him smile with you. he loves to kiss your lips and your cheeks. whether it was a quick peck here and there or when he’d push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t breathe. he loved to kiss your lips till they went redder and more plump. 

c - care (caring for each other when you’re sick)

when george is ill, he pulls you back into bed anytime you get up, claiming he’s cold and needs your body warmth. whilst you’d comply, you also had stuff you needed to get on with. so you’d sit next to his sleeping figure, trying to quietly type on your laptop or write into your notebook. when you’re ill, george waits on you all day. he’d constantly ask if you needed a drink or food and if you’re being sick, he’ll follow you to the bathroom and hold your hair back. he’d gently rub small circles into your back and carry you back to your bed, when you were too weak to walk alone.

d - dates (what do you guys do?)

being an actor, george loves to take you to the cinema to watch new films that he’d seen about, or heard about at awards nights. sometimes, you’d go and see films that his friends or previous co-workers were in. you’d share popcorn and he’d let you rest your head on his shoulder whilst his arm was wrapped around your shoulders. afterwards, you’d maybe go out for dinner or to a coffee shop, and he’d love to have a discussion with you about the film, what you liked and didn’t, the directing, filming, acting. by the end of the evening, the entire film would’ve been deeply analysed by the two of you and you’d have it no other way.

e - engagements (how he proposed) 

he’d take you out to dinner, to celebrate your birthday or anniversary, and after the meal, you’d take a walk back to your flat or the car. but, then he’d take a diversion and say he just wanted to show you something. next thing you know, you’re standing on the rooftop of the cafe you met, staring up at the stars. whilst you were looking away, he’d get down on his knee and then cough slightly to gain your attention. he had planned a small little speech, which went the window the moment you turned around. he tells you how much he loves you, what he loves about you, what he sees in the future for you two, and you can’t help but say yes. 

f - friends and family (do they like you/him?)

george’s family were initially weary of your relationship. not because they didn’t like you, but because of how long george spent away from home working. they feared you would both end up ending it soon because you couldn’t cope. as soon as they met you, however, they saw how relaxed george was - different to his typically stressed exterior. when he was away, his mum invited you round for dinner, and his sister was similar in age, so you had a lot in common.

your family feared he would be a distraction from your studies, but once they saw your relationship thriving, they had no fears. your dad liked that he was politically aware and into football, whilst your mum liked the fact he was active in feminism (#pussypower)

g - gifts

when george went away for filming, he’d bring you home stuff. they could be really simple, such as local delicacies or fridge magnets. something simple, that was a small reminder of him every time you opened the fridge. 

h - how you met

you met in a cafe. you were sat in the corner, typing away at a script you were working on, nothing official just something that kept you occupied. he happened to take the table next to you and notice you furiously typing away your ideas, jotting down notes in the book next to you. he stood up and walked over to you. 

“um, hi. i’m george.”

“hi?”

he told you about him being an actor, asked what you were working on and then asked to read. he complimented your work, and you gave him your number to “keep him updated and ask for advice”. he made a habit of going back to the cafe every day that he could, just to see you. he’d take a seat opposite you and didn’t mind when the two of you sat in silence. 

i - intimacy (how often are yall getting down)

oh that man may seem innocent, but he will take you any time, any where. when he came home, the first thing he’d do is take you to your bedroom. he’d go slow savouring the moment - similar to how he would be the night before he had to leave. and the morning. and maybe before he got in the taxi. and then maybe he’d send you some suggestive texts. he lead you to toilets at awards shows for a quickie, or just lay you down on the sofa and go to town. 

j - jealousy

when you come to set, some of his male co workers got a little bit close. when you were gone, they’d make jokes to george - he laugh outwardly but inside he was seething. it was easy to feel jealous of people you interacted with when he was away, much as it was for you to be of him working with loads of people, that his character was physically intimate with. however, it didn’t take much for either of you to remind the other of your love ;)

k - kinks

idk if this is a kink but hickies. george loves to litter your neck, chest, stomach and inner thighs with small bruises. he loves seeing a quick flash of the marks whenever your shirt rides up, or your towel exposes a few. he very much loves to mark his territory, as much as likes to see marks you’ve left on him. 

l - long distance

a lot of your relationship had been spent long distance, with him working away for 1917 and then the history of the ned kelly gang. every night, you facetimed, till one of you fell asleep, but you’d mostly just do your usual evening routine, just hundreds of miles apart. you’d cook your dinner at the same time, shower, and then sleep. it felt as if you were together, just through a screen. you were obviously limited to what you could do but there was many things you could do to replace what was physically missing. it didn’t take a massive toll on your relationship, but george found it really hard to see you struggling and knowing he couldn’t be there to help - and vice versa. 

m - moving in

george asked you to move in, over facetime, whilst he was away filming 1917. he said he wanted to come home to your face every evening, and his flat wouldn’t feel like home without you there. his flat was closer to your uni/work place as it was, so even though you were quite early on into your relationship, it was ideal. whilst he was away, you kept the flat in order every time george came home, he damn near welled up at the thought of you being there waiting for him, in difference to the usual cold, empty flat. 

n - nights out 

being a student, you went out a lot with your friends. often when george was away, so he’d be delighted to wake up to barely legible texts from you. when he was home, however, the two of you found yourself going to a local pub with dean and some of your other friends and taking part in the pub quiz or darts. sometimes you’d just watch the game that was on.

o - open with each other

initially, you both found it hard to talk to each other, but as all good people do, he had a catharsis. he broke down, relaying all his stresses onto you, to which you comforted him and talked him through it. he can sense when your bottling it up, and even though you’re not massively open with him naturally, he knows when to ask you to talk, and you do, knowing he will be there to support you.

p - pda

george isn’t a massive fan of pda, but he would hold your hand when you walk through town, and when you accompanied him to award shows, his hand would be firmly stationed on your lower back, his fingers rubbing small circles. he’d press soft, small pecks onto your cheek, or your forehead or sometimes, just the simplest act of raising your hand and kissing your knuckles softly would be enough to comfort you. 

q - questions (what you talk about late at night?)

you talk about your day usually. it’ll start of as being, “i cant sleep” which will then turn into either one of you starting to talk about something funny that happened or just an overview of how your day went. this would go on until you managed to fall asleep, you soft breathing lulling george into his own sleep.

r - reproduction (do you want kids?)

george wants kids, in fact he definitely has notes on his phone of baby names that he wants to bring up with you. however, he respects your decisions and only wants what you want. he lives by “her body, her decision” but it is something he will ask you one night, casually. to which you respond however you feel.

s - surprising (what surprised you about him)

he loves to dance. if a song is playing in the background or on the radio, he’ll stand up and dance. in the kitchen, he’ll take a wooden spoon and sing into it. then take your hand and twirl you around. he loves to slow dance with you under the stars and he loves to rock out with you, with air guitars and all.

t - together (what you do together)

as said before, you watch a lot of films and programmes together. you also write a lot together, carpooling ideas into scripts or stories. his imagination is phenomenal. sometimes, you’d go on road trips, and he’d have control of the aux. he’d play songs to you, to see if you knew them, and he’d serenade you with ABBA non stop. anything you did was made 10x better when you did it together.

u - under the influence (drunk vibes)

drunk george is the softest man alive. he just wants to cuddle and tell you how madly in love he is with you. he’d press kisses all over your face and then pull you in close, to squeeze you tightly. when you’re drunk he loves to watch you get up to your antics, only intervening when it got dangerous or illegal. drunk together was a whole other force to be reckoned with. you’d both be doing stupid stuff until someone else had to step in. drunk you and sober you were both madly in love with george, just sober you was more willing to show absolutely everyone.

v - vacations

george definitely takes you to an island somewhere, like malta. or maybe he’d take you to a greek island. you’d spend the entire time exploring the city or the local markets, soaking up the local atmosphere and the sun. he’d defo get all artsy, taking photos of you from behind as you walked, the sun shining down on you angelically. 

w - wedding

the cutest wedding ever. no cap. outside, in summer. you’d chosen a outside area, like a greenhouse kinda room, surrounded by the most beautiful flowers. the reception was afternoon tea in a little marquee. the next day, you had a family meal, where your two families came together to celebrate the two of you.

x - xray (when he’s hurt)

let’s say he injured himself on the set of 1917. a piece of rubble in the bunker scene fell and trapped on his arm, cutting it wide open. whilst it didn’t put him completely out of working, it did require him to go to hospital for stitches. it happened that you were on set on these days so accompanied the whole way. you held his hand as the nurse gave him stitches, and though he didn’t look scared of the needle, you could tell he was slightly panicking at the size. you walked with him back to the trailer where dean sat waiting, laughing slightly has a pale george sauntered up to him, you pulled into his side.

y - you (a random headcanon) 

imagine that you both innocently take a shower together. “saving water” or something like that. george would spend his time massaging shampoo in your scalp and then brushing his fingers through it as the water washed it out. he’d turn around and you lather him in soap, your hands rubbing his shoulders, tense from a week of working. it wasn’t much but it was the little things that allowed the two of you to wind down at the end of a busy week.

z - zzzzzzzzzzzz’s (sleeping routine)

whilst you wouldn’t admit to being tired, george would watch you as you sat next to him, your eyelids falling heavy and your blinks getting longer and longer. he’d stand up himself, then hold out his hand for you to take. you’d follow him up the stairs and whilst he was brushing his teeth, you’d change into your pyjamas and then you’d swap. as you wander back into the room, george would hold out his arms for you to climb into, your head burying into the crook of his neck. nights like this, it was easier to fall asleep quickly.

[heffrcns]

i did this for dean, so here, have an appreciation post for george too😌

[mydemimonde]

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

✎ = still writing

⚘ BEN HARDY

▪ Ben dating a latina (headcanon)

▪ Making out with Ben (headcanon)

▪ ‘Early Christmas Gift’ (one shot)

▪ ‘Marathon’ (one shot) (+18)

▪ ‘Challenge accepted’ (one shot) (+18)

▪ ‘Happy New Year’ (one shot) (+18)

▪ ‘Make love to me’ (one shot) (+18)

⚘ DEAN-CHARLES CHAPMAN

▪ ‘Muse’ ─ Matt (Blinded by the Light) x OC (✎)

⇢ Chapter 1

⇢ Chapter 2

⇢ Chapter 3

⇢ Chapter 4

⇢ Chapter 5

⇢ Chapter 6

⇢ Chapter 7

⇢ Chapter 8

[strangethings-everywhere]

Three’s A Crowd // G.M. & D.C.C. x Reader // Part Two

Masterlist Part 1 // Part 2 Requested: yes Word count: 1610 Warnings: angry boys, cursing, smacky smack, a lil bit of making out but not enough to satisfy because it do be like that (oops?)

Author’s note: i’m sorry this took so long and i’m also sorry that the ending is bad yikes 

It had been a week since the three of you had attempted to go to Dunkirk. The rain had chased you all home with an incredible thunderstorm and a flood warning, but it had been for the best. The tension had been unbearable and you had not let George drive home. Dean had pretended to sleep and George had ignored the both of you. 

And filming had been an absolute disaster. 

Sam was ready to put everything on hold because Dean and George could not become Blake and Schofield. After everything that had happened between them, it wasn’t believable and Sam knew it. As the weekend loomed over them, he finally sent the boys to their respective trailers and called it a day. 

“Y/N?” Sam motioned you to him. “May I speak with you?” 

“Of course.” You sat next to the director, hugging your clipboard to your chest. 

“I know that you’re close with both boys and I can tell that something happened last week. Would you mind trying to talk to them?” Sam rubbed his face, tired from the stressful day. “If they can’t figure themselves out, we’re going to have a hell of a time trying to get this done.” 

“I’ll do my best.” You stood with a smile, but inside you were nervous. You hadn’t had a good conversation with either of them since the trip. 

From the thick tension that appeared whenever the two of them were together, you knew that talking to each of them alone would be best. You approached Dean’s trailer first, your hands shaking. 

“Dean?” You knocked lightly on his door. His music shut off and his door flew open. His blue eyes were red and his face, newly fresh of makeup, was streaked and angry. 

“What?” He snapped, his voice a bit hoarse. 

“Can I come in? Please?” You felt very small as he looked down at you. Dean stared at you for a moment then stood aside. 

“Has George sent you?” He asked, throwing himself onto his sofa. 

“No, I’m here just for me.” You shot back, crossing your arms. “And Sam wants me to make sure that you’re alright.” 

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Have you talked to George? Away from set?” 

Dean scoffed. “He hasn’t wanted to talk to me. He hasn’t apologized. Why would I talk to him?” 

“Because you’re his friend and this movie is also counting on the both of you.” You sat next to him. “And I hate the fact that both of you are fighting.” 

“He loves you, you know,” Dean muttered. “We got really drunk one night and that’s when he told me. That’s how this whole thing happened. I was drunk and he was drunk and we talked about you.”

You felt as if your heart was running the trenches. “Well, we’ve been best friends for an eternity. I know he loves me.”

“Y/N don’t be stupid.” Dean snapped. “Why else would he be so angry about me fancying you?” 

You were at a loss for words. You had never thought about George fancying you, but there had been plenty of times, more than you cared to admit, that you had thought about him. It was often late at night or after he had just left.

You also found yourself thinking about Dean too, but it didn’t feel the same. You weren’t sure how to feel about him, especially since you hadn’t known him as long. 

“Dean, I…”

“You don’t feel the same, I get it.” He squeezed your hand. “I just wish you hadn’t found out this way.”

“No, I don’t know.” You bit back a sob, your head in your hands. “I hate that we’re all fighting and it’s so confusing and I just want my boys to be friends again.” 

“If you talk to George, get him to calm down, I’ll talk to him and we can work this out. I just think that you need to talk to him.” Dean gave you a smile, the first smile in a week. “Trust me, I miss him too.” 

You hugged him tightly, taking notice of the way he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “Thank you, Dean. I will go talk to George.”

The energy around George’s trailer scared you. You could hear his music and a lot of loud banging noises coming from inside. You knocked on the door, your heart pounding. “George?”

He opened the door, wearing nothing but a pair of old gym shorts. You felt your lungs spasm at the sight of him shirtless, even though you had it before. Apparently, the idea of two boys being in love with you had affected you more than you thought.

“Y/N? What is it?” He asked, leaning against the doorway.

“I-I wanted to talk to you. About everything.” You pushed past him and sat down on the sofa. He shut the door and leaned against the counter. 

“Alright, so let’s talk.” He had a glass of something alcoholic that he refilled. “Want some?” 

“Um, no thanks.” You didn’t like drinking and he knew that. George only drank when he was upset. “I was just talking to Dean and-”

“Talking, huh?” He quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is that it?”

“Honestly what is your problem?” You stood up, anger boiling in your chest. “You’ve been so mean to me and to Dean for the past week and we’ve done nothing to you!”

“What did he say while you two were talking?” He sneered. “He’s rather good at sweet-talking, or at least that’s what he thinks. I hope you had more respect for yourself and you didn’t let him talk his way into your pants.”

Before you could stop yourself, your hand cracked across his face. You had never smacked anyone, but you had never been that angry before. As soon as you did it, you felt regret flow through your body. 

“George, I-”

“No, I deserved that.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

You sat down again, nervously rubbing your legs. He drank the rest of his drink, his eyes watching your hands. Once he had finished, he sat down beside you. “I’ve been an ass, haven’t I?” 

“Yes, you have. The worst part is that I don’t understand why.” You chuckled softly. 

“Did Dean tell you anything? Did he tell you about the night we talked about you?” He asked, toying with the strings of your ripped jeans. Your chest began to feel tight when his fingers started to brush your skin. 

“Yes, he did.” 

“How do you feel?” He started to draw patterns on your exposed skin. You shivered at his touch. Goddammit. 

“I don’t know George. I just wish everyone wasn’t fighting.” You sucked down a breath as you locked eyes with him, his blue eyes hypnotizing you. “I just wish you had talked to me.” 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He squeezed your thigh gently. “I was so worried that you would hate me for it.”

“George, I could never hate you.” You leaned on his shoulder, trying to ignore the feeling of his skin. 

He slid his free hand into your hair and lifted your face, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You melted into his hold, gripping his shoulders as he deepened the kiss. He pulled you onto his lap with one hand, never letting go of your thigh. You tangled your fingers in his hair, sighing into his kisses. 

You had never felt so good. This had never felt so right.

“George…” You gasped as his lips attached to your neck, his hand sneaking up to your hips and his thumb pressing circles into your skin. 

“Hm?” He glanced up at you from his place at your collarbone, his teeth nipping at your skin. 

“We have to stop, you… you have to talk to him.” You murmured, tugging his head away from you. George sighed. He knew you were right, that the feud between him and Dean needed to stop, but he didn’t want to leave. 

“Do we have to go now?” He whined. You laughed and planted a kiss on his nose. 

“I don’t have to go anywhere. You have to go and make amends with your best friend.” 

George furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought you were my best friend.” 

You slid off his lap with a playful grin, lying back on his sofa. “If you keep kissing me like that, I don’t think we can be just friends anymore.” You nudged the shocked Brit with your foot. “Now go, I’ll be here when you come back.” 

He stood up and slipped on his shirt, his eyes grazing over your body with an unfamiliar hunger. It gave you goosebumps. “Promise?” 

“Just go!” You laughed. George gave you one last kiss and then left.

You got up and grabbed one of his sweaters, slipping it on over your t-shirt and inhaling his familiar scent. You had always felt so happy in George’s presence, but you never thought that those midnight fever dreams would ever become a reality. Part of you felt sad for turning Dean away, but the other side of you knew that your heart had always belonged to George. Even when you had gone out with other guys, George had seemed so hostile towards them and you had hated watching him flirt with girls in bars. You had thought at the time that you had just had an issue with the girls he was picking, but you realized that you had wanted him to choose you. 

Instead, you had done the choosing. And you had chosen him.