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sassypossumm · 2 months

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It Happened One Night: Tequila and Bourbon

(Part 1) (Part 2)

The alarm on your phone went off, shaking you out of a deep sleep. So, you flung it across the room.

Your head began pounding, and breathing seemed too loud. Groaning, you tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but the churning nausea rolling through your gut would not be ignored. Flinging the covers aside you staggered to your feet.

Funny, your slippers weren't where you'd left them. Before you could ponder that quandary further, your stomach roiled again, sending you running, or more likely dragging your half dead carcass to the bathroom.

Lifting the toilet lid, you dropped to the ground and wretched into the bowl. And then again. Resting your cheek on the rim of the toilet bowl, you closed your eyes and hugged the porcelain like a lifeline.

"I feel like an extra in the Walking Dead." You moaned to no one in particular. At that moment you didn't care if it wasn't 'socially acceptable to talk to yourself'. You felt like shit, and if you wanted to complain to yourself, by George, you jolly well would.

Again, your stomach churned, and you again wretched over the bowl. Your body was shaking at this point, and a few tears slid down your cheeks from the exertion.

Unbeknownst to you, you hadn't been the only party in bed, and said party was just stirring awake. And suffice it to say, he didn't look much better than you.

Miguel rolled over, sprawling across the bed and raised his head when his fingers felt the warm spot that had clearly been occupied recently. With some effort, he pulled himself up and cradled his head in his hands.

Usually, he could handle his alcohol, but not this morning. While his stomach wasn't roiling like yours, he did have a splitting headache, and the overwhelming need to take a piss. Peeling back the covers slowly, Miguel rolled out of the bed and stretched, moaning in relief when his back made an audible cracking sound.

"Getting old, O'Hara." He muttered to himself, running a hand raggedly through his hair. Pulling on his t-shirt, Miguel shuffled to the bathroom, stretching out his arms and yawning loudly. He felt as shitty as you but considering that the last six months of his life had been one long shit fest, this had become the norm.

They hadn't called it retirement, when Jess and Peter had suggested he take a break. No, of course not. Just... a break. It was of little consequence to him, in his mind Miguel had been put out to pasture like so much cattle, and he resented it. So how did he express that resentment?

By scarfing down cold empanadas and watching whatever terrible Tela Novela was on television. Sometimes to mix things up, Lyla appeared sporadically with cheery little reminders that he had a back log of messages from Jess. Messages he was ignoring on purpose.

Yawning yet again, Miguel stepped into the bathroom and dropped his boxers... only to be met with a piercing scream... which he returned with a startled cry of his own.

The mating call of the idiots.

"You!" Both voices shouted in surprise.

The events of the previous night...

"You need to take a break man."

"What I'm hearing is that you're ousting me." Miguel had shot back.

"What? No!" Peter had tried to pat his shoulder, but Miguel was having none of it. Folding his arms, he glared at Peter and Jess.

"After everything I've done, I pulled this society together with my bare hands, not to mention I've kept the universes safe,"

"We've kept the spider verse safe. Miguel." Jess said pointedly, mirroring his stance, refusing to back down. "We took down Spot as a team, Miguel. We saved countless lives as a team. And you seem to have forgotten that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Miguel reeled back at her insinuations. Jess looked almost regretful as she glanced at Peter and back at him gravely.

It means you're not God, Miguel, and you need a break."

"You okay, man?" The bartender's words cut through his bitter recollections.

"Why shouldn't I be, okay? I'm a free man." He bit out the last words and held the drink up to the light. "You try to be a good man, take care of everybody and what does it get you?" Narrowing his eyes, he downed the bourbon and placed the glass on the counter with a 'thud'. "Cucked. Apparently, it gets you cucked." The bar tender shook his head and left Miguel to his misery.

If only you'd done the same. But like they say, misery loves company.

"Mind if I sit here?" Without waiting for an answer, you plopped onto the stool next to Miguel, and took a sip of your tequila.

"It's a free country." He muttered without looking at you. Shrugging you turned to flag down the bar tender.

"Tequila, please, a whole bottle." He raised a brow at your still half full glass, and you gave him a tight smile. "Go big or go home, right?" The bar tender slowly returned your grin and reached behind the counter for a bottle.

"Here you go."

"Thank you, my good sir." Sliding a wad of bills, you'd won in a slot machine across the counter, you topped off your glass and glanced again at Miguel. "I see we seem to have the same mission tonight."

"What?" He finally glanced at you, albeit through eyes that were growing glassy. You jutted your chin towards his half empty bottle of bourbon.

"Getting swacked. Seems to be the theme of the night." Miguel shrugged and turned his attention back to his drink. "I've never actually gotten properly drunk before, figure," Shrugging, you take a drink straight from the bottle. "What the hay, break up with a shitty guy, might as well get wasted." You bit out the last words and took another swig.

"Are you always this chatty when you drink?" He grumbled, turning again to glance at you and his eyes narrowed. "The shitty guy, he did that?" Miguel's voice took on a dangerous edge as he gestured to a deep purple bruise near your left eye. Humming, you shrugged nonchalantly and squinted to read the label on the bottle.

"That's nothing, you should've seen the going away present I gave him."

"What'd you do?" Miguel turned to face you, leaning against the bar, interest piqued. You chuckled darkly and took another swig.

"Cuffed him in the jaw with a shovel." A twisted grin ghosted over your face before it fell, and you took another drink. "Hope he's not dead. The shit's not worth my time in prison." You grumbled. Alcohol made your tongue loose and lowered your inhibition, which was why you rarely drank. Miguel snorted and took another drink of his bourbon. Refilling the glass, he looked at you again, a healthy dose of respect in his eyes.

Your eyes flit to the shot glass of tequila you'd abandoned. "Haste makes waste, or whatever it is they say." You muttered, downing the shot. By that point, you felt that warm hazy sensation overtaking your body, and whatever decision-making skills you possessed where swiftly being ignored in favor of instinct.

Taking note of the jukebox in the corner, your ears perked up as you recognized the song. Seven Spanish Angels. It'd been a favorite of your fathers. Miguel noticed the tears pricking at your eyes, and he raised a brow.

"You, okay?" Wiping your nose with the back of your forearm, you shook your head and sniffed.

"No. But who is, right?" He couldn't argue with that. "That is..." Squeezing your eyes shut, you swallowed hard. "Was my dad's favorite song." Miguel's eyes softened, and he topped off your shot glass with some of his bourbon. "Thanks." You smiled weakly at him.

"Don't mention it." He said gruffly, refilling his own glass, emptying the bottle. You downed the shot and put the glass on the counter none too gently. "I'm not one to preach to the choir, but you might want to pace yourself."

"I might not be Paul Bunyon, mister, but I can hold my liquor."

"Paul Bunyon?" His lips quirked. "Am I supposed to know who that is?" You brushed off his snide tone and sighed heavily, gesticulating dramatically with your hand.

"A giant lumber jack with a giant blue ox."

"And I remind you of this, giant lumber jack?" Miguel said bemusedly, with a raised brow.

"I'll bet you'd swing an ax, real pretty, mister." Giving him a sly once over, you leaned an elbow on the counter and propped your chin in your hand. Miguel felt a distinctive heat prickle across his neck, and he coughed.

That should've been the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. But with the subtle twang surfacing in your voice, and the almost hungry way you were staring at him, Miguel struggled to find it anything other than positively erotic.

"In case you were wondering," His breath stalled when you scooted closer and looked into his eyes with an exaggerated sense of gravitas. "I am objectifying you to a disgusting degree." A tingle slithered down his spine and curled around his tail bone, and he released a shuddering breath.

Present Morning...

Getting your bearings, you dragged yourself to your feet and sat on the edge of the bathtub, head in your hands.

"I have so many questions..." Glancing up you saw Miguel pacing, boxers still around his ankles. So, he wasn't so much pacing as he was waddling. There was so much to take in all at once, but you shook your head and shielded your eyes. Now isn't the time to be getting horny you idiot. You grumbled to yourself. "Please put that thing away."

"Thing?" Miguel paused midstride and glanced down. Looking up, he noticed your attempts to block your vision and smirked. "You don't like what you see?" He said, propping his hands on his hips cockily, seemingly forgetting the circumstances at hand.

"That's hardly the point right now!" You sputtered and groaned when a splitting pain shot through your skull. Miguel rolled his eyes and pulled up his boxers.

"I'm not naked anymore." Tentatively you peeked between your fingers and dropped your hand, looking up at him.

"You look like shit." The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. Miguel smirked.

"You're not exactly sleeping beauty yourself." You felt your face flush, but you couldn't argue. It didn't take a mirror for you to know how you must look. Your stomach roiled again, and you flung yourself over the toilet bowl and wretched.

Miguel held back your hair. You shuddered violently and pulled back, wiping away tears and filmy residue. Miguel's eyes softened at your vulnerable state, and he helped you gently to your feet.

"Thanks." You rasped. Miguel's brows furrowed, and he seemed to be studying you. Tilting your head back, your expression mirrored his own. "What, hey!" You squeaked in surprise when he hoisted you up by the waist and sat you on the counter by the sink. Without a second glance at you, he turned on the water and rifled through the drawers for a wash cloth. "What are you doing?" You watched him, curiosity piqued.

"Your face is disgusting." He said simply, lathering up the wash cloth he'd found.

"Gee, thanks a lump." You muttered, folding your arms.

"You know what I mean." He sighed and squeezed the excess water out of the soapy cloth. You reached to take the cloth, but he pulled it back and narrowed his eyes at you. "What do you think you're doing?" You blinked at him, confusedly.

"Wash my face?"

"I'll do it."

"I'm perfectly capable of washing my own,"

"I said, I'll do it." He cut off your protest firmly, tilting your face up. You opened your mouth to protest, but at his glower, you closed your mouth. Satisfied, Miguel gently washed your face with the cloth. Up close, you had a chance to admire anew just how good looking he was. No, good looking was an understatement.

This man was the stuff of Michaelangelo's wet dreams. Oh, to be a sculptor. You thought, wryly, tracking the subtle twitch of his eyebrow and the way the muscles ticked in his jaw as he focused. His eyes locked on yours, and you glanced away, flushing.

"You weren't this shy last night." Miguels lips twitched, but his tone remained neutral. And for some reason, that made it all the hotter. Your eyes flit to his momentarily, and at the shit eating grin that spread across his face, you huffed.

"Asshole." You grumbled, folding your arms. Miguel simply grunted, good naturedly and rinsed the rag before wiping the soap off your face. "I don't remember very much about last night." You admitted when he finally pulled back, giving you breathing room again.

"And I seem to remember even less." He said, tossing the cloth in the hamper.

"I guess we both got pretty swacked last night." You groaned, rubbing your temples thoughtfully. "I don't even think I caught your name." You breathed, looking up at him slowly, shame flushing your face. Miguel folded his arms and leaned against the bathroom wall.

"Miguel O'Hara." Were you not actively fighting to tamp down a rising waive of panic, the subtle accent that rolled off his tongue with the words would've had goose bumps prickling your skin. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed heavily.

"All things considered, you're taking this really well, Miguel O'Hara." You glanced up to catch his shrugging his shoulders.

"As you so eloquently put it, we got 'swacked', is it? And it seems evident to me that we hooked up." You were taken aback by his cool demeanor.

"Oh, is that so evident to you, Mister Smarty Pants?" Narrowing your eyes, you jumped off the counter, and immediately stumbled. Miguel reached out and caught you before you fell.

"Mujercita espinosa." He grumbled, wrapping an arm supportively around your waist.

"I don't think I want to know what you just called me." You groused as he slowly led you back into the bedroom and gingerly helped you perch on the edge of the bed. Fighting through another wave of nausea, you placed your head between your knees and groaned. "Just let me die." You moaned loudly.

"You might really want to when I tell you where we are..." Miguel sounded genuinely concerned.

"Oh, yeah, why's that?" Opening your eyes, you turned your head and saw Miguel standing tensely by the window. Feeling the blood pounding in your head, you slowly sat up. "Might as well tell me what other piss poor decision we made last night, where are we?" Miguel glanced at you warily. "Miguel... where are we?" Narrowing your eyes, your tone grew firmer.

He sighed and pulled the curtain further aside, looking again out the window. In the next tense moment of silence, your eyes fell on a sheet of paper sticking out from under the lamp on the nightstand and reached for it curiously.

As you read the paper, your heart dropped. You didn't need him to tell you where you were. A marriage license. With the proud country of Mexico stamped at the top.

"I think I'm going to be sick..." You struggled to breath, and dropping the paper to the bed, you curled in on yourself and began hyperventilating. Crossing the room, he started to reach for you, but froze when his eyes landed on the paper.

"Mierda." He muttered under his breath, as he scanned the writing. He recognized his handwriting, and the accompanying signature he attributed to you. At least he had a name to go with your face now.

And a wife to go along with it, cabrón." He thought bitterly, dropping the paper on the nightstand. Tempted to give in to his familiar spiral of self-loathing, but paused when he looked down at you. You'd curled up like an armadillo and were shaking like a leaf.

His heart crumpled at the sight. He couldn't be selfish, you clearly needed him to be the stable one right now. Running a hand through his hair, he took a ragged breath and sat heavily next to you.

"Hey." He rested a hand in the center of your back, causing you to tense. After several minutes of his soothing strokes up and down your back, you started to uncurl yourself. "You, okay?" He whispered gently when you finally sat up and crossed your legs. Breathing out a shaky laugh, you ran shaky fingers through your hair, and glanced at him with slightly wild eyes.

"Not even a little bit." You said, shakily. Miguel could only nod, his own mind trying to wrap around the overload of information. Moaning, you flopped back on the bed again. "I'd always assumed I'd get married, but this is ridiculous!" Not that he didn't agree with you, but for some reason, his ego still stung at your caustic tone.

"It's certainly not ideal." He said tentatively. You shot up and looked at him, eyes panicky.

"Not ideal. Not ideal. He says!" Sensing you were going into another spiral, Miguel took your face in his hands, gently but firmly and turned your head.

"Hey, look at me." The authority in his voice caught your attention, and you narrowed in on him, breath still rapid and shallow. Miguel leaned closer and looked intently into your eyes, his voice never wavering. "This is going to be okay."

You began sputtering, but he simply shifted a hand so he could place his thumb gently over your lips. Your eyes widened at the motion, and you glanced from his thumb back to his eyes. Had they been that startling russet hue last night? You couldn't remember.

Just like you can't remember anything else, you dodo. You thought bitterly. You felt the rough pad of his thumb grazing softly over your bottom lip. The combinations of that sensation and his deep voice whispering your name, brought your thoughts to a screeching halt, and you couldn't do anything but stare at him.

"Are you with me?" He said a bit louder, and said your name again, more pointedly. You nodded as best as you could with his hands keeping you so firmly in place. Taking a deep breath, he let his hands slacken a bit and you took a bracing breath.

He looked back into your eyes. "This is a shitty situation, and I've got a splitting headache, but it's going to be okay, I promise." Your heart stuttered at his firm tone, and searching his eyes, you found that you believed him.

"I believe you." You choked out. His eyes widened, and you saw his pupils dilate and retract before he released your face and leaned back. Releasing a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding in, you studied this perfect stranger, this... husband, more intently.

Something about him made you want to believe him. Made you want to believe that if there was a monster in the closet, he'd vanquish it. Made you want to believe that he'd slay a dragon if it meant keeping you safe.

Wishful thinking. You shook your head, clearing out the fanciful thoughts. He was just a man, like any other man. And men failed. You were certain, Miguel O'Hara wouldn't prove to be the exception. But, for some reason, on this one thing... you had no qualms about putting trust in him. When he said this would be okay, you knew it would.

"What are we going to do?" You gave voice to the nagging question, flopping back on the bed. You bounced a little when Miguel's heavy back hit the mattress. After several minutes of silence, you turned your head and saw him staring intently at the ceiling.

"Miguel?" He hummed. "What are we going to do?" A muscle ticked in his jaw, and slowly, he turned his head to meet your eyes.

"My lawyer is in Nueva York. We'll fly back, and he'll look over the license. He can tell us if it's legally binding or not."

"And if it is?" You pressed, raising a brow. Miguel breathed out through his nose, and he shrugged.

"Then, we'll cross that bridge when we reach it."

@feyhunter78 (figured out how to tag!!!)

By the by, I AM open to suggestions about where we can take these two idiots in the future! Kinda wanna try to actually have some follow through and develop a full fledged plot for once!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #meet cute

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milflewis · 5 months

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22 + chalex for the prompt thing! 🫶🏻

22. hug

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 1: So. I am fucked. Surprise though! So you can stop all the tears — talking about you, Commander, the softy that you are - I am alive.]

—

Two weeks after NASA has declared Alex Albon dead and left on Mars, Charles writes to George. He sends it to Sebastian and makes him swear to get it to Lewis in the crew’s next info dump, who will give it to George.

He tells him about how Alex’s plants are doing, and about his shifts at the hospital, how he’s on night work now, with the shifts rotating over. He tells him about going to the beach and just standing there for hours, staring out at the water, until he could no longer feel his face from the cold. He tells that he’s more or less sleeping, that he’s going to work, that he’s eating. He tells him that he hopes they’re keeping safe and that he loves him.

He doesn’t talk about Alex. He doesn’t tell George he doesn’t blame him. He knows he’ll know. That he won’t need Charles to write the words.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 2: I think I've got this actually. Ignore yesterday. Getting stranded on Mars kinda messes with your head. I've got a plan and I'm feeling good about it! ]

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 2: Update. I do not got this. If I die, Charles, I demand a mourning period of at least eighty-three years. Please bury me under some nice flowers. Blue if you can.]

—

“Come back to me,” Charles says, arms tight around Alex’s neck, mouth pressed under his ear. He smells of shampoo and asphalt. His bony elbows are digging into Charles’s back.

“I’m going to make Mars my bitch,” Alex says, grinning, and Charles shoves him away with a laugh.

Alex catches his wrist with a warm hand. His palm is dry and calloused. “Charlie,” he starts, low and careful. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Charles’s voice cracks. He tries again. “Yes, I know, of course, of course. Me too.”

Alex smiles, and it’s wonderful. Charles memorises the shape of it.

Down the line, with his back to the hoard of cameras, Commander Lewis Hamilton is pressing his mouth against his husband’s knuckles. Both of their eyes are closed.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 54]: Did you know that if you grow something somewhere that you've then colonised it? So, like, now that I've got my potatoes going does that mean I now own Mars? A win for the gays and the losers, motherfuckers!]

—

Toto swivels in his chair and looks out of the window to the sky beyond. Night is slipping in.

"What is it like?" he wonders. “Stuck up there. Alone. He does not know we know. What does that do?"

He looks at Niki. "I wonder what he is thinking right now."

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 61: How come Aquaman can control whales. They're mammals! Makes no sense.]

—

Some days, when he hasn’t had much sleep and the air warps and curls over on itself with heat, he sees Charles.

He’ll only ever be far off in the distance — too far for Alex to even see the details of his face, let alone touch him. He’d know the shape of those shoulders anywhere.

Alex waves to him sometimes. This dark blur on the horizon that just stands there and watches. He never waves back. The sun on Mars is unforgiving.

Alex wonders if he’s moisturising his hands. The latex exam gloves he has to wear for work always dry out his skin.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 76: I'm going to have to science the shit out of this. George, please don't use this as porn. I know how hot and bothered you get about me being all smart and sexy.]

—

George has, like, every sitcom ever downloaded in his personal storage. Alex works his way through them all. If he never hears another laugh track in his life he’d die happy.

Lewis’s music list is jam packed full of different genres. There is a surprising amount of The Beatles in there. Alex wouldn’t have guessed he was a fan of them.

Alex decides the music Lewis had made himself, all chords and notes and little words, is some of his favourites. It can be hard hearing other people speak at you and not being able to talk back.

Every book Valtteri had downloaded is in Finnish. Alex thinks he probably should’ve guessed that would be the case.

It turns out Finnish is very hard to learn, especially when the only words you’ve picked up are swears that you’ve heard Valtteri muttering under his breath before media duties.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 206: Finally got into contact with NASA because I am that bitch and I will be damned if I die here, and that is a promise. They won’t stop telling me what to do now though, so, like, it’s a give and take, I guess.]

—

The first thing Charles notices about Alex is that he has freckles all over his face but especially across his nose and cheeks. This feels very important.

The second thing he notices is that he is tall and his wrists are bony. Charles eyes the strip of skin where his MATHS IS SEXY top rides up. There is an equally tall man sitting in the booth beside him with a shirt that reads: NO ITS NOT.

The third thing he notices is that he is extremely drunk. His cheeks are flushed and he’s half falling over the table as he tries to explain something while laughing.

Charles probably falls in love right there if he’s being honest, even if he never gets the courage to go up and talk to him. Alex is the one who says hi, weeks later, asking him if he wants to play pool.

Charles doesn’t know how to play pool. He says yes anyway because he thinks it might make Alex smile. It does.

He keeps saying yes and Alex keeps smiling. They move together after college graduation.

Charles is coming off a double shift and he can’t feel his feet when Sebastian shows up to give him a ride home. He makes him tea when they get in. It’s a blend of something herbal and sweet like honey.

Sebastian tells him Alex is still alive as Charles breathes in the steam. He tells him that they left him behind on Mars. That it was an accident. That they’re figuring out how to get him home.

Alex is alive, Charles thinks. I’ll get to see Alex smile again, Charles thinks, and promptly bursts into tears.

—

[08:47] BUTTON: Good, keep us posted on any mechanical or electrical problems. By the way, the name of the probe we're sending you is Iris. You know, the one who rode the waves of heaven using the wind. I think she's also the chick with the rainbows.

[08:49] ALBON: Gay probe coming to save me. Got it.

—

I’m so glad it’s not me stuck up there, the navigational assistant tells him. He was the one who discovered Alex was still alive in the first place. He tells him he noticed the MAV moving. His name is Yuki.

Alex thinks he’s going to say he’d miss people or fresh fruit or Netflix or sex or something. Alex hasn’t had a mango in so long. He hasn’t had a blowjob in even longer. Some days he isn’t sure which is worse.

Yuki is very very funny.

Can you imagine only eating potatoes, he tells Alex. I would rather die dead and alone. And then: though I guess you would not have to imagine.

And then: the eating potatoes bit. sorry. you haven’t done the other one yet.

Alex laughs so much he rebreaks a only barely healed rib and NASA yells at them both. His calcium levels are very low.

—

[21:27] BUTTON: How are the crops affecting that number? As to your question: We haven't told the crew you're alive yet. We wanted them to concentrate on their own mission.

[21:30] ALBON: The crops are potatoes. I got them from the ones we were supposed to eat for Christmas. They're doing great but the available farmland isn't sustainable. I'll run out of food around SOL 900. Also. Fucking tell the crew I'm alive???? What the fuck is wrong with you????

[21:31] BUTTON: SOL 900 is great news. That'll give us time to get a supply mission to you. And I’ve been told to tell you to watch your language. Everything you type is being broadcasted around the world.

[21:32] ALBON: Look! A pair of boobs - > ( . Y . )

—

Dear Alex: Apparently, NASA is letting us talk to you now. And I drew the short straw. Sorry we left you behind on Mars.

But we just don't like you. You're sort of annoying. And you shed hair everywhere.

Also, it's a lot roomier on the Hermes without you. We have to take turns doing your tasks. But, I mean, it's only botany. It's not a real science.

How's Mars?

— George.

—

Alex stares up at the plain white ceiling of the HAB. The wind roars and rages outside and the Level Threw sandstorm shakes the walls. It holds. It always holds.

When he makes the journey to find the HAB of the HERMES TWO, he’ll be technically crossing international waters without any explicit permission from a governmental body. That makes him a pirate.

I’m going home, Alex thinks. And then: I can’t wait to tell Charlie that he’s married to a bad boy.

Alex runs a hand over his face. He’s even gotten the beard to go with it.

—

Dear George: Mars is fine. When I get lonely I think of that steamy night I spent with your mum.

How are things on Hermes? Cramped and claustrophobic? Yesterday I went outside and looked at the horizons. They really do go on forever.

— Alex.

—

"Thing is," Alex scrambles to say, mouth dry and sore. "I'm selfish. I want all the memorials back home to be just about me. I don't want the rest of you losers in any of them. I can't let you guys blow the VAL. Also, I'm the only one who is allowed to make Charlie cry. Them's the rules."

"Oh," Lewis says. "Well, I mean, if you won't let us — wait. Wait a minute, I think I see something on my shoulder patch here. Oh, right, yeah, it says I'm the Commander. So, you know, what I say goes. Shut the fuck up and sit tight. We're coming to get you."

Alex swallows — or tries to at least. His whole body aches. He thinks he broke a rib, or two. Or three. He wants to cry.

"Copy that, sir."

"We've got you, man." Lewis's voice is warm. Alex doesn't have to imagine his smile anymore. He's going to get to see it very soon.

—

Alex is all bone and mouth when Charles gets to see him again. He has lost so many of his freckles. He hugs him close, pressing his thumbs into the hinge of Alex's jaw. Alex bows and curls over him and Charles doesn't let either of them fall.

He tastes vaguely of salt and snot when Charles kisses him. Charles is crying.

Alex is smiling when he pulls away, arms tight around Charles' back. "Look at your face," he says softly. He's talking to himself.

"I'm here," Charles replies, louder than necessary. Alex blinks at him and his smile, impossibly, gets even bigger. Charles's stomach squirms.

"You're a mess," Alex teases him, running a hand through Charles' hair. Charles doesn't say anything about how his hands shake.

“You should stay here and take care of me then,” Charles says, and Alex closes his eyes, smushing his nose hard into the skull of Charles’s forehead. Charles digs his nails in.

Fuck you, Mars, Charles. Fuck you.

#i hope u like ! sorry it took so long ahajsjsksk writing is like pulling teeth recently #chalex #alex/charles #little fics #lourdes tag #the martian au #f1 rpf

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 1 year

Text

write it down in a calendar - george russell

george russell social media au - george x f!reader

warnings: swearing, immature jokes

liked by charlesleclerc, alex_albon and 487, 037 others

ynofficial: snow on the beach, weird, but fuckin beautiful

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landonorris: what is this who is that

ynofficial: ur mum

landonorris: how mature

charlesleclerc: do i know this person

georgerussell63: i would also like to ask that question

ynofficial: maybe how am i supposed to know who you know or don't know??????

mickschumacher: 👀

ynofficial: shh

alex_albon: mick tell us what you know right now

mickschumacher: i've been sworn to secrecy

landonorris: i'll pay you

mickschumacher: i'm loyal to y/n but i won't say no i need the tips

liked by danielricciardo, lilymhe and 384, 935 others

georgerussell: i'll stick to skiing

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alex_albon: wtf is happening rn

alex_ albon: i didn't even know you met someone!!!!

landonorris: yes we are feeling #veryleftout

charlesleclerc: insufferable posh boy

lilymhe: oh no george you got charles using big english words

georgerussell63: oh fuck

mickschumacher: i only know 1 person who knows how to snowboard apart from me

landonorris: MICK ISTG STOP BEING SO CRYPTIC

danielricciardo: you guys are so dumb (respectfully)

liked by georgerussell63, ynofficial and mickschumacher

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 275, 937 others

ynofficial: boom bitches

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alex_albon: GEOERGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

landororris: GEORGE YOU TRAITOR YOU HAD US THINKING IT WAS MICK

mickschumacher: what no i have my own girlfriend and y/n told me because we’ve known each other for ages 😭

landonorris: george russell the type of person to lie to his friends about his girlfriend

alex_albon: george russell the kind of guy to commit to arsefoolery to deceive his friends

georgerussell63: but it was funny

alex_albon: george russell the kind of guy to lie to his friends and find it funny

danielricciardo: george russell the kind of guy to tell me he was in a relationship before albono and lando

georgerussell63: thanks mate

alex_albon: YOU TOLD DANIEL AND NOT ME

georgerussell63: HE WALKED IN ON US OK IT WASN'T INTENTIONAL

charlesleclerc: george russell the kind of guy to pose for every 'candid' photo ever taken of him

ynofficial: he looks accidentally gorgeous though, right???

charlesleclerc: not as gorgeous as me

liked by ynofficial, danielricciardo and 458, 487 others

georgerussell63: happy four years to my best girl

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alex_albon: back tf up FOUR YEARS

landonorris: your name is in the list in red and underlined russell

charlesleclerc: FOUR YEARS???? i mean congrats i guess

ynofficial: nah he's just joking it's only 2 years and it's not even our anniversary

alex_albon: still: WHAT

danielricciardo: but i caught you guys 3 years ago?

georgerussell63: 3? you sure?

danielricciardo: positive

lewishamilton: how do you forget how long you've been dating? the number one rule of relationships is to write it down in a calendar

georgerussell63: i honestly have no idea

ynsibling: you guys actually met when you were 7, mum said she went to uni with george's dad and we used to have playdates as kids, i just texted her now...

ynofficial: wtf

georgerussell63: wtf

alex_albon: so you don't actually know how long you've been dating OR how long you've known each other???? karma really is my boyfriend

mickschumacher: i have a picture of you guys from when george was still in f2 and you guys were TOGETHER together iyk what i mean...

ynofficial: wait i think that was before we broke up the first time charlesleclerc: the FIRST time????

georgerussell63: i thought we broke up in my first year in f1?

danielricciardo: george was in f2 four fucking years ago guys get a grip, you're practically a married couple at this rate

ynofficial: actually...

charlesleclerc: i'm logging off, someone knock on my door when this is sorted out

landonorris: omg we all went to vegas two years ago...

georgerussell63: i just found the marriage certificate lmao

mickschumacher: lmao????? LMAO????? YOU'RE DISASTERS, BOTH OF YOU!!!!!

fan1: they should both be investigated for being criminally confused

liked by mickschumacher

estebanocon: are you guys even living together?

ynofficial: yes and no but also maybe not so idk

estebanocon: what are you certain of?

georgerussell63: our love lol (i'm panicking right now)

TWO MONTHS LATER

posted by ynofficial and georgerussell63

liked by landonorris, charlesleclerc, alex_albon and 874, 863 others

georgerussell63 and ynofficial:

mini us when we were 7

we were 18 when we started dating which means it's six years instead of four (we're not counting the three months we broke up when we were 20)

we are NOT married (george found UNsigned marriage certificates) but we are GETTING married (we don't have any actual engagement photos because george did it in bed but you can have the makeshift ring because we haven't bought one yet)

to lewis: we don't know the exact date but it's somewhere in october of 2016 but the only date you need to worry about is the 18th August 2023 because that's when we're getting married for real

we're turning comments off because we're cowards

private message from: alex_albon

alex_albon: r u preggers too or is the sudden engagement enough? i feel like i don't know who you guys are. i think this is my villain origin story yk

#george russell social media au #george russell x reader

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weministertomonsters · 1 year

Text

Orc (Oak) x human female reader - Part 3

You come to slowly. Something is being pressed against your lips. Cold metal. A spoon?

"So when is she going to wake up?" A voice says.

Everything sounds far away and distorted like you're underwater.

"Soon, my child. The forces were beyond his control. You cannot blame the man. Calm yourself, she will wake."

"I can't calm down, Nana. I warned him that something like this would happen. How dare he?"

The dull ringing in your ears fades away, and now you realize it's Oak speaking. Your eyelids feel like they're been sown shut. You groan, trying to open them.

"Easy, girl," a soft female voice croaks against your ear, and crooked fingers caress your hair. "Take your time."

"Oak?" You whisper, finding your voice is another thing that refuses to work as it should.

"I'm here," he says, and you can sense him drawing closer and feel his body heat against you as the bed dips. "Shhh, go back to sleep. Nana says you need to rest more."

"Your grandmother?" You guess in a mumble, rolling your stiff body towards him and reveling in the warmth his body provides.

He affirms your question but his voice slips away as you go back under. You sleep in a golden space, floating in a sky of dreams of everything and nothing. At one point you wake up and tell yourself just how lucky you are to not be having nightmares before sleep pulls you under again.

You properly wake up sometime later and your eyes flicker open and take in the weak sunlight filtering through the curtains. You're in an unfamiliar room with a low ceiling and split log walls. You can hear the hiss of the brutal wind trying to find a way in but the room is well-insulated and fairly warm.

A rough snore startles you and you sit up and see an orcish woman asleep in a chair beside the bed, head tilted back and wrinkled lips slightly parted. She's missing a tusk and the creases around her mouth look like they are no strangers to smiling. Her iron-gray hair is braided with feathers and beads and she wears a shawl with embroidered symbols over her plain dress. She's dressed like a shaman or medicine woman. And she's Oak's grandmother. Looking at her face, you can see the resemblance.

You ease out of the bed, testing your legs. They're shaky but hold your weight. You slip into the fur boots you find beside the bed. They fit like a glove. Now that you're out of bed, you're starting to feel the cold so you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and tiptoe from the room. The bedroom is joined to a small living room, with chairs that look comically big to you. The room is minimally furnished but looks well-lived in. You find Oak in the kitchen, deftly crimping the edges of a pie he's about to fill with preserved fruit.

"You know how to make pies?" You blurt out and feel foolish as he spins around. "I mean, good morning."

"You're awake!" He covers the distance in two big strides and engulfs you in a hug that takes you clear off your feet. You feel protected in his arms and it isn't the first time you've been reminded of just how small you are.

"What happened?" You ask, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "I hit my head falling down the stairs... before that... I don't remember."

"George got to you. I really should have seen it coming. I knew he had changed but I had no idea you were staying at that house. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

"Wait," you say, gently pushing on his shoulders. "Slow down. I'm starting to remember. So George is a vampire? Since when?"

"Ever since he fell off his horse. A vampire attacked him in the woods the day before the race. Fool he was, he didn't think much of it and participated the next day. The change caught him at the wrong time and he went mad from bloodlust and the sunlight. He's been in hiding ever since. He's terrified the town will want him staked and burnt at sunrise."

"How do you find out?"

"He's one of the few people I'm on good terms with. He came to me and begged me to get my Nana to have a look at him. He was in denial. She gave him something to help him with his bloodlust but it seems he thought starving himself would prove to be a cure. I tried to warn him not to when I saw him last, but he wouldn't listen to anything I had to say. God, I should've known."

"Stop blaming yourself," you say.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and you flush with embarrassment.

"You need to eat." Oak sets you down gently on your feet. "I'm making pies for Nana to take back to the village. Do you like apple pie?"

"I think I would like anything you make," you reply, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Oak, my feet aren't even touching the floor. Everything in your house is huge!"

"I made most of it myself," Oak laughs. "And bought the rest from the nearest Orcish town, where they make furniture for our kind."

"I've never been to an Orc town," you murmur.

"I can take you some time. If you'd like that," Oak says, setting a bowl of porridge down in front of you, and a slice of pie beside that.

"Thank you, I'd love to go," you smile.

You take a bite of the porridge and your eyes widen. "Is there cinnamon sugar in this?"

"There is, yes. Orcs like their food flavorful," he replies. "I hope it's okay."

"Oh, it's perfect! My mother used to make it like this. I love it." You eat eagerly, hardly aware of how he watches you.

The apple pie is just as good, and you almost melt into the chair at the taste of the warm, tart fruit and buttery crust.

"You really can bake," you say when you've finished all the food.

"My Nana taught me," Oak says, his chest puffing with pride.

"Someone mentioned my name?" A croaky voice calls out as the old orc lady hobbles into the room.

She spots you and smiles widely. "Ah, Oak's wife, you're awake!"

Heat rushes through you and you look at Oak and raise your eyebrows. The large orc looks mortified, squirming in his seat.

"Nana!" He hisses. "I already told you, we're not married."

"No? But you are getting to it, yes?" She asks innocently, her eyes gleaming like she knows exactly what she's doing.

"Yeah, Oak," you can't help but join in on the teasing. "When are you going to propose to me?"

Nana gasps. "You mean he hasn't? Deary me, and he talks about you all the time too!"

Now it's no longer funny. Your face is hot and despite yourself, you can't help but glance at him. He's fiddling with one of his braids. He meets your eyes for a moment, then clears his throat and stands.

"I'm going to get more wood," he says gruffly, tromping out through the back door.

The silence after he leaves is as loud as the wind outside.

"Someone had to push him," Nana reasons, sounding like she's talking to herself.

"I do like your grandson, Nana, but you shouldn't be forced his hand," you say. "No matter how much I like him, I want him to be happy no matter what he chooses to do."

"I know for sure that he likes you a lot, dear child. I have never seen him like that with anyone. He just doesn't know how to go about with this love."

You smile at her because you know exactly what she's talking about. You struggle with expressing it too. It's hard to know how to act when you aren't sure how someone feels about you. She smiles back, then nods to the rest of the half-finished pies on the table.

"Do you wish to help? A little movement will do you good," she says. "I don't expect my grandson to be back anytime soon."

Together, you finish the pies.

* * *

You're waking up disoriented again with a thudding pain in your skull, a telltale sign that you've been hit in the head with something. Your eyes flicker open but you can't see. That is always a bad sign.

"Oak?" You call out, disoriented.

"Cha!" Someone says and a horse neighs in response, and suddenly you're moving even faster.

You're in a cart or wagon, it seems. And you have a chicken feed sack on your head. You can tell because of the smell of old corn. You try to reach up and remove it but your hands are bound behind your back. Your legs are tied at the ankles tightly enough that your feet are going cold. "Oak!" You scream over the sound of the wind.

"Stop your yelling, girl. That orc isn't going to come for you any time soon," a familiar cold voice snaps.

"Mrs. Markely? What are you doing?" You gasp.

"The only thing I can do," she replies. "Believe me, Girl, I didn't want to. But he refuses anything else. Your name is the only thing he mutters when he wakes up. I had to do something."

"What's wrong with George?" You question, trying to squirm into a more comfortable position because there's no way you're going to try and jump out of the cart with a sack on your head.

For all you know, she is going around Hell's Bend, the road that follows the cliffside and leads down from the hills where Oak lives into the heart of the town. You could jump right off the cliff by mistake.

"I don't know what's wrong!" She snaps back. "He doesn't eat and he sleeps all day. At night he's like a monster. He... That day he attacked you, I followed you home because I was suspicious of his behavior. I saw you at the bottom of the stairs and him trying to bite with all these horrible teeth." Her voice shakes and she pauses, sniffing.

"And then your Orc comes barging into my house and tears George away and they start fighting. It was awful. I don't know what was worse, the orc punching like he wanted to kill my George or the way George kept coming at him. He got up, over and over. I think he's the Devil!"

"Then why are you taking me to him, Mrs. Markely? You should be calling a priest."

"You know what the church will do with him. They can't help him but maybe you can. He wants you. Maybe when he has you he'll go back to the darling boy I used to know," she murmurs. "This has to work, it just has to."

"Oak will come looking for me," you reason. "He'll get here in time to stop you and George."

"I spent a week planning this! I've sent him on a wild goose chase halfway to the next county. By the time the realization dawns in his green skull, my George will come back to me."

"At what cost? Do you know what will happen to me? I'll end up dead," you argue. "Mrs. Markely, George is a vampire now. Maybe something even worse. You can't just reverse that," you sigh. "I'm sorry about what happened but this isn't going to make it right."

"It must," she insists feverishly, cracking her whip so that the horse speeds up.

The wheels grind against the uneven road and you're afraid a wheel is going to break. You strain your fingers to reach the rope at your wrists, plucking at the thick knot to try and loosen it. You have to at least be able to see. The very tip of a branch lashes at your face and you duck instinctively.

"What are you doing?!" You cry.

"It's a shortcut, I have to get there before he kills the girl-"

"What girl? Don't tell me it's Ann!" "I did what I had to!" Mrs. Markely shouts back. "Ann is indispensable. Now shut up and let me concentrate-"

Mrs. Markely screams something garbled and the cart comes to an abrupt halt. The knot finally loosens and you yank the rope from your tender wrists and ankles and pull the sack off your head to see what's happening. You almost want to put it back on when you see what Mrs. Markely is looking at.

"Oh George," she moans, "what have you done?"

George is standing a few feet away, in a shaft of moonlight coming through the trees. He's holding a girl with tangled air and dirty cheeks. Her arms are covered in gruesome bitemarks that are bleeding sluggishly. It looks like he gnawed at her skin like a chew toy, unsatisfied with the taste. You gasp.

"Ann!"

"Oh, god," Mrs. Markely sobs as the realization starts to hit her. "George..."

"Do not call me by that name," the creature says. "George is gone."

"Drop the girl!" You call out, not expecting him to do just that.

Mrs. Markely perks up as she remembers you. "I brought the girl, George. Just like you wanted. Come back to your senses, my boy." The creature scoffs. As the leaves of the tree shift overhead, you catch a glimpse of a protruding jaw and cruel, slimy teeth. Red eyes glow from dark hollows. From the screech Mrs. Markely lets out, she has seen it too. If not for the clothes, no one would be able to tell that it's the same person. The creature is right. George is gone.

"Leave the girl alone," you call out. "She's dying." "Her life is inconsequential to me," the creature says. "But you, I want you."

Mrs. Markely shoves you forward and you nearly fall. The whites of her eyes gleam in the dark. She's no longer sorrowful but afraid.

"Take her, devil. Take her and promise you'll spare me." You sigh but remain where you are. You have to save Ann, even if it costs you your safety. You can picture her mother, frantically searching for her. Ann is her only child.

The creature grins, all sharp teeth, and an oversized mouth. "No promises. Run, human."

Mrs. Markely bolts for the cart, but at least she scoops Ann up along the way, sobbing tears of remorse. She bundles Ann into the back and clambers in herself and leaves without a backward glance, the wagon careening around the bend of trees. The wind blows, giving your skin icy kisses. You're not wearing enough to keep yourself warm. You lift your chin and ask as bravely as you can,

"What do you want?"

"You, my dear," the creature says, and you shudder at how warm his sounds.

Too friendly, too calm.

Leaves crunch underfoot as he shuffles closer. His chin is crusted with dried blood. Most of his hair has been torn out, leaving his scalp in pitiful condition. He looks like a dead thing. His eyes simmer like two red moons, pinning you in place.

You can't breathe, can't speak, and can't look away.

He has grown taller since the last time you saw him, head and shoulders above you, thin and muscular, soft and hard, contradictions everywhere on his body. He leans down and the sound of his voice, rolling in on itself like a giant purring cat, washes around you. All you can do is stand there, as his tongue unfurls and swipes across your face like a wet towel. You feel like you're falling and yet again, there is no one to catch you. * * *

Hello. It's me with my army of cliffhangers in tow. It's funny how I thought I had gotten bored of this story but I finally forced myself to write this part and ended up enjoying writing it, and then got inspired with ideas to flesh this story out EVEN more. Now I'm debating on whether I should do it, because I have other ideas knocking on my door, along with old and new requests I have not written.

By the way, writing guides are the culprit of the cliffhangers. I have been told to "keep the readers hooked" so many times that I do it subconsciously. Off the cliff with you and I will give you one spindly tree root to hold and you might end up falling into the river below which is full of territorial angry merfolk. Perilous times indeed!

Have a good day or night and remember, don't try to solve your whole life. Instead, focus on adding good things to it. One at a time, just let your pile of good things grow.

That's the quote I'm now going to live by.

#monster boyfriend #monster love #monster x human #exophilia #terato #orc x reader

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sleepy--anon · 1 year

Text

Trivia

Reblog first, like after

Warnings: intense tickles and light bondage

Dream and George were in a switchy mood of sorts, both wanted tickles and weren't afraid to tickle someone first to get them. They had practically confided in each other when they realized they had the same motives, which led them to one solution, Sapnap. The shortest of the trio had been on call with Punz all day, playing Val, talking, streaming, ext. They had said their goodbyes about five minutes before the two knocked on his door, he was in the middle of logging out.

"Come in!" He yelled back to the knock, hanging his headphones on their designated hook and shutting everything off before he turned in his chair to face his door. Said door opened and in came Dream and George with weirdly flustered yet mischievous faces.

"Oh good! It's both of you, I've been feeling a little antsy and need some help." Dream, who was originally going to initiate their plan, fell completely speechless, mouth shut tight. He was entirely aware of what Sapnap did when he was antsy, he knew what he ment by help, looks like they didn't need their plan at all. He was surprised he didn't look right in his eyes and say their code phrase. George gave Dream a puzzled look before starting the plan himself.

"We wanted to play a game with you Sapnap." He didn't sound as teasey as he wanted and it proved to do nothing when Sapnap raised an eyebrow and smirked at the brit.

"You want to play a game~?" That was how George wanted to come off but now he was on the receiving end and he didn't know what to do. But Dream knew exactly how to get what they wanted in the first place.

"Sap... we're bored.." The Texan's head snapped to Dream at the sound of their code phrase, only confusing George more, his smirk rising greatly.

"Ok~ I've got a game for us to play~ Both of you lay next to each other on my bed." Sapnap ordered, getting up from his chair to retrieve a silk cloth. Dream complied instantly, dragging George by his wrist to join him.

"What just happened?"

"George isn't aware of the phrase yet I see~ Dream and I have this little phrase he says when he's lee so he doesn't have to directly ask me for tickles~ said phrase is 'I'm bored'~" Dream whined at the explanation, not fully acknowledging that Sapnap had crawled between them and was looping the cloth around his headboard.

"Alright, Dream, right hand." Sapnap said directly, holding his hand, palm up. Dream placed his right wrist in his waiting hand, watching him pull it up and tie it securely with the silk. It was tight enough that he couldn't get out of it without assistance but it wasn't uncomfortable by any means. George, seeing this, became rather horrified and attempted to flee, but was quickly stopped by a strong hand on his chest. His brown eyes met blue and Sapnap held out his free hand.

"Left hand George~" It wasn't a request, more a demand. George looked to Dream for help, I mean he still had a free hand...right?

"Just cooperate George, he'll be nicer if you listen." Ok, Dream was no help. He swung his arm around when Sapnap tried to grab it himself, grunting in frustration when it no longer moved. Dream had snatched his wrist and practically delivered it to the youngest.

"Here Sap."

"Thank you Dream! Such a great help~" Sapnap took his wrist from Dream, securing it on the other side of the silk cloth.

"Now!" He said loudly, clapping his hands together.

"We're doing trivia, here are the rules, rule number one, you are not allowed to interfere with the others tickles. Rule two, you cannot tickle the other without my go ahead. Rule three, no cheating. Rule four, you cannot get your answer from the other. Rule five, you cannot answer the other’s question. Any questions?" The two slowly shook their heads, cowering under his intense stare.

"Good, I will ask you both questions, one at a time. If you answer wrong or refuse to answer, you get tickled for one minute. If you answer correctly, the other gets tickled for 30 seconds. You each have your safewords, Dream, yours is vanilla, George, yours is banana. Shall we begin~?" Sapnap took their flustered silence as a yes so he gently took Dream’s chin between his fingers.

"We'll start with you cutie~ let's start easy hmm~? Where are you most ticklish~?" Dream's entire face was red, he didn't want to just exclaim it but Sapnap added a countdown and he panicked.

"Ten~"

"Its a tie between my feet and my tummy! Nohohoho counting!" Sapnap smiled at him, not evil but not entirely sweet either.

"Correct Dream! Now count for me~ I don't have a timer~" He pressed George’s free hand, that was covering himself, into his mattress as he crawled his fingers around his upper body.

"Out loud please Dream~" George was cackling, he could barely move, all he could do was shake his head and kick pathetically.

"Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty." Dream finished counting. He couldn’t watch, he was already so on edge. Sapnap let George catch his breathe for a moment before addressing him.

"Alright George, your turn~ Do you like being tickled~?" George looked at Sapnap like he had a hand coming out of his mouth.

"You cahahan't be serious..."

"That's a generous question George~"

"You're really...? No."

"Incorrect George, that's one whole minute~" He tsked, chuckling at the horrified look on his face.

"Sap, cmon, don't be mean-" Dream attempted to but in, grabbing his wrist, but was quickly silenced by a quick vibrating claw to his stomach.

"What was rule one Dream~?"

"...You are not allowed to interfere with the others tickles..."

"Very good, now follow that~ Count again, sixty seconds this time~" George tried his hardest to protest but it was futile. Sapnap had one hand in his exposed armpit and his other squeezing his side. Dream felt like he might explode if he waited any longer.

"DREHEHEAM STOHOHOP HIHIHIM!!"

"...sixty"

"Thank you darlin'~ its your turn now pretty boy~ Are you ticklish~?" There it was, the dreaded question that they never answered honestly. George would have 'oooooo'ed at him if he wasn’t so out of breath. Dream shook his head at him.

"That your answer or are you refusing to answer~?" Dream just shook his head again.

"George, I'm gonna have you count to sixty for me~" Dream shrieked out a few protests but eventually just fell into bubbly cackles when Sapnap attacked his hips, finally relieved of all the anticipation.

"Fifty-niiiiiine..." George drawled out.

"FUHUHUCK YOHOHOU!! STOHOHOP IHIHIHIHIT!!!"

"Ssssssixty!"

"Well that was a little evil, don't you think George~?" He quickly tried to justify it by saying how he didn't stop either but Sapnap slapped his hand over his fast moving mouth.

"Squeezes or scribbles~?" He removed his hand and George realized quickly that neither of them were in the best shape at the moment.

"If I answer can we tickle you?"

"If you answer I'll let you tickle Dream, if you don't, I'm getting you both~"

"Fuhuhuck, squeezes."

"Wha-?! GEORGE!" Sapnap pinned his free hand down and turned to the ravenette.

"Have your fun George~ thirty seconds." George went straight for his tummy, relishing in his wheezey cackles.

"Alright George, that's thirty." He pushed away his hand and soothed Dream, ignoring George’s pout.

"I'll give you the same deal freckles. Ler spooning lee position or ler sitting on lees hips~?" Dream didn’t even take the time to be flustered by the question, he answered instantly.

"Spooning!" Sapnap got to work, pinning George’s hand the same way he had Dream.

"NO! NONONONO DREAM!"

"Thirty seconds~ make em count~" Dream wanted revenge so he immediately knuckled his ribs, not once resenting until he heard Sapnap yell out,

"Thirty! Well isn't this fun~? You two are so cute red faced like this~ George, verbal teases or physical teases~?"

"I dohohon't knohohow... both?"

"Both~?" Sapnap kneaded into both boys hips, grinning widely at their differing laughter.

"NOHOHOHO I AHAHANSWEHEHERED IHIHIHIHIT!!!"

"IHIHIHIHIT'S NOHOHOT MY TUHUHUHURN!"

"You're right Dream, I'm sorry, you've been so good to~ so answer this one~ what tool is your favorite~?"

"Fuhuhuck, the... metal back scratcher thing."

"That is an answer George~" He whined loudly at the thought of any abused spots getting tormented again.

"Pick a spot Dream~"

"WHAT?! NO! DREAM DON'T YOU DARE!"

"Thighs" Sapnap complied the second that spot left his lips. Narrowly avoiding getting kicked.

"Alright Georgie~ Admit something that you genuinely like about me~"

"Come on man!" Sapnap raised his eyebrow at him before counting down slowly, ignoring how he tried to talk his way out of answering.

"Two...One your out of time~" He attacked every spot he could reach. George reacted so harshly Dream feared he might actually break the headboard.

"YOHOHOU'RE LOHOHOHOYAL EVEHEHEN WHEHEHEN I DOHOHOHON'T DEHEHESEHEHERVE IHIHIHIHIT!!! AAAAAAHHHH BAHAHANAHAHANAHAHA!!" Sapnap quickly untied George's side, wiping his tears away.

"You satisfied?" George nodded, loopy and half awake.

"Dreeeeam~" He instantly sunk in on himself, he knew he was calling it soon and so did Sapnap so he was going all out.

"When was the last time you were embarrassed~?" He asked, knowing the answer was the last time he wrecked him.

"...That's nohot fair dude"

"In detail, or your back gets it~" He hovered a clawed hand which earned a whimper.

"I can't..." Sapnap flipped him on his side and nibbled up and down his spine, adoring the squeaky laughter it produced.

"VAHAHANIHIHIHILLAHAHAHA!" Soon he to was released and the two were pulled into his chest. George already asleep and Dream already nodding off.

#lee!georgenotfound #lee!dream #lee!george #ler!sapnap #sleepy's fics #mcyt tickle fic #dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #dream team tickle

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knowltonsrangers · 1 year

Note

Turn!Washington x reader, 20-25, take your pick!

I'm in the mood to see that man in a romantic mood

#24: attempting to find out if they are single/available.

TURN!George Washington x reader

[a/n: ooooooh okay, I love this!! I picked #24, and I did it both ways just because! this could be tied in with my chapter fic ‘scrapped’, I liked the office setting hah.]

Your hands come to clasp behind your back, walking down the hall attempting to keep in pace next to the man, though proving difficult to match his stride. Although he appears very calm, eerily so, his head is in a swirled frenzy, mind reeling.

“Washington!”

“y/n!”

You both turn, opposite ways of the hallway, you over your left shoulder, Washington keeping front, as both your names are called. To your surprise, Nathan is waving enthusiastically at the end of the hall, and Hamilton stands at the beginning, looking very much annoyed.

“Can I steal you for a bit? I need help with something,”

Nathan asks, and you are mildly overwhelmed at the disappointment that builds in your chest. Of course, you’d be willing to help Nathan with anything, but you couldn’t say you weren’t saddened to be pulled away from your time with Washington so quickly.

“That works perfectly, I need him for a good while.”

Hamilton says, and Washington sighs deeply, turning to you, unamused by the situation.

“We’ll work on it later,”

He says, and offers a nod in parting, as you do the same.

“Best of luck.”

You hum, smiling up at the man as you wave him goodbye.

As you make it back down the hall, Nathan grabs your arm gently, ushering you to his desk in an urgent manner.

“My entire computer is broken.”

He whispers, and your eyebrows raise, opening your mouth to say something along the lines of how could that even be possible—

And then you take sight of his computer.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than hide from me?”

Hamilton asks, thumbing through a file of papers after retreating back to his office.

“I was not hiding from you.”

Washington mumbles, sitting behind his desk with its newfound organization.

“Seems you’ve been very busy doing a lot of things with y/n.”

He groans, pulling back from his stack of papers, slamming his pen down.

“Must you?”

“Yes, of course. I know about your little…infatuation with them.”

Hamilton waves his hand in exaggeration, eyes moving from the papers back to the man.

“That is highly inappropriate, and—“

“Just because it’s inappropriate, doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

Okay, he got him there. It was beginning to become a little more complicated, the fact that he longed for the time of the day spent together with you.

Would he ever admit that aloud, especially to Hamilton, he’d sooner shoot himself in the foot.

“May we move on from the subject?”

“No,”

“Why are you so obsessed with this? Surely y/n is happily taken, and it is something that I will just have to get over,”

He sighs, forehead coming to his hands, and Hamilton presses on.

“I think I have information that you’d like to hear.”

Still unmoving, he just waits for the redhead to spit it out. Maybe if he appears unbothered, then the topic will shift gears.

“I heard from Hale that they are not in a relationship.”

There goes his attempt at seeming uninterested, because his shoulders tense up, and he can’t help himself.

“Uh, how did you manage to uninstall all of the applications?”

You ask, typing away at the keyboard in a futile effort to move his computer into any semblance of working condition.

“I didn’t! I swear, I think I may have opened a bad email. When I logged on, everything was gone.”

You should be contacting IT, but in any case, what would there be to say? That his entire computer was wiped?

“So,”

Nathan leans against his desk, as you sit in his chair, now clicking pop ups as they blink open around the screen.

“Yes?”

“You and George, huh?”

You gasp, pulling away from the screen in an offended manner.

“No way! Absolutely not—!”

“There’s no denying it, y/n, he has heart-eyes for you, and you for him.”

“…does the whole office know?”

You whisper, carefully looking around to see any more of your coworkers would chime in.

“I don’t think so. I only just made the connection.”

The blonde says, and you turn back to the computer, pouting slightly as you re-download the necessary applications.

“And you just confirmed it.”

“It’s not like he’s going to do anything, and I’m sure he has a partner—“

“He is single, by the way.”

Nathan says, and you don’t make any movements.

“Stop playing matchmaker, and log into your account.”

You stand up, biting your lip as you watch him enter his password.

“Just saying, y/n. No harm in passing on office known information.”

You could faint on the spot, feeling the rosiness rise to your cheeks.

When you rejoin each others company later that day, the conversation is over before it began.

You said hello, as did he, and you went right to it.

You shuffled his papers, he signed some things, and all you could focus on was how loud your heart was beating in your ears.

“What did Nathan want?”

Washington asks, and you pause, wondering if there was any part of that interaction you could share without making him stress more.

“Got locked out of his account, nothing major.”

Thin white lie.

“How nice of you to help,”

You nod, unable to look up to meet his gaze.

Washington wishes to ask you about the information Hamilton divulged to him, but he decides it best to not mention it.

It would come up naturally, and him forcing it would not be the best move.

“Want to talk about it?”

You ask, mouth moving on its own.

“About what?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You seem very distracted, I thought maybe Hamilton had said something that bothered you.”

He is almost amused.

“No, no.”

He waves you off, and you continue to move things around.

The tension in the air is making the situation ten times worse.

“I guess that’s it for in here. I’ll just go back to the front and work on—“

“Is everything alright?”

For as long as you’ve known him, you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard him speak so quietly.

“O-oh, yeah. Everything’s fine, why do you ask?”

Washington catches your uncomfortable expression, but does nothing about it.

“Just making sure, y/n. Do what you need.”

When you slip from his office, you are sure that the breath you just let out you were certainly holding in that entire exchange.

#sul writes #turn amc #turn washington's spies #george washington #turn george washington #george washington x reader #George Washington imagine #George Washington Headcanons #turn: washington’s spies

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skelingtonsderek · 7 months

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This idea that there is some cookie cutter perfect answer to taking care of yourself is so fucking harmful. In like a lot of ways but this is the one I've been thinking about recently on account of my recent season of sleeplessness.

Sleep! Rest! Voluntarily obtaining a state of unconsciousness in order to hallucinate vividly! 8 hours of sleep! You need! 8 hours! If you don't get! 8! You are! Failing!

But like, at best that's an average and we all know the statistical incompatibilities with accuracy and averages....

So sleepers georg needs 10 hours a day to feel rested cause he's just wired like that and I, most ardent enemy of sleep that I am, feel like shit if I get more than 6. My partner sleeps like a log the whole night through for like ninety thousand years fully unconscious immovable object. I can do about 2 hours at a time without needing to get up and move around a bit.

And that's when I'm not in a season of sleeplessness where I sometimes don't sleep at all at night or maybe only manage a 90 minute stillness.

The thing is I didn't come up with the term season of sleeplessness on my own. My whole family is like this. Or at least enough of them are that it never seemed strange to me for a household to be up at all hours. "Bed time" meant "when you need to be in your room being quiet" not "time to sleep."

But now I'm older and I thought I'd try because the doctors talk about how bad for your health it is! You! Need! Sleep! Insomnia is bad! Evil for no sleeping!

Well I tried. I did. For several years just to make sure it wasn't me. And it's been the mooost tiring and frustrating experience of my life! The more I consistently managed to do what they told me sleep-wise the more symptoms I had that are usually reserved for the insomnia list. I felt like shit. I got sick more. I started getting tired throughout the day. More headaches. Harder time concentrating. Worse time managing my social life. My work tanked. It's been fucking hell. Especially when a season of sleeplessness would hit and I'd find myself trapped in bed because if I got up I was a Bad Insomniac who didn't really want to be better and just-- I had lost all of my reserves for managing periods of severe insomnia because I had pivoted all that shit into the exhausting task of forcing myself to sleep.

It's sucked. It's sucked so fucking hard. I've never been so tired and miserable in my life. I know that doesn't sound like much but I am a chronic insomniac from a family of insomniacs. Our first name is Difficulty Falling Asleep, Our middle name is Difficulty Staying Asleep and our last name is FuckingChristWhyCan'tIGetBackToSleepIt's4AM.

There's a lot of bullshit out there about how to sleep and who's doing it right and how you're doing it wrong but like. We're all fucking weird. Strange little creatures moving about the skin of existence with just enough sense to look around us in shock and wonder. How the hell does anyone know how much sleep I or anyone else needs? How do you look at a group of little insects and say they all need the same exact things? We don't and we can't and it's GOOD that we aren't all exact little copies of each other.

Every singular one of us is different with different needs and different wants and different tastes and yeah, there are some general guidelines of things you should probably keep in mind like maybe try to make choices based on care for yourself and not obligation. Or like. Be kind to yourself. also others I guess but in my experience we are all far more unkind to ourselves than we could ever have opportunity to be to others.

#unhinged monster journals publicly #insomnia

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pie-of-flames · 1 year

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mclennon wip 👀 i am intrigued. feel free to answer as many or as few as you want: 2, 10, 14, 15, 16 (as someone who's also struggling lol), 25, 30

I think I already answered 2 in the process of answering 1 for the previous ask. (I guess a log line is supposed to be shorter than a plot description. Oh well.)

10: Describe the tropes present in this WIP. H/C, sickfic, amnesia, canon divergence, fix it, angst, HEA.

14. Where will the WIP start?

Right now it starts in London at Cavendish sometime in 1971. Ish. John and Yoko are still living at Tittenhurst.

15. What do you like about this WIP?

I always like writing characters with an angsty past filled with regret and longing. Here we have Paul filled with those things and also dealing with Linda leaving him because of his own bad behavior. We also have Paul and John wrestling with the loss of the Beatles and each other and what that means. And of course, I love having the characters find their true path and happiness in each other. Here it's a voyage of rediscovery and reconnection as Paul helps John get back on track and heal. At least that's the idea.

16. What do you find frustrating about this WIP?

Figuring out some actual plot? I'm 10k words into the actual scenario that I initially envisioned but I'm not entirely sure how to navigate through to a HEA. I only have some vague ideas. I'm hoping I'll find my way as I write.

Also Yoko has a significant role and she's kind of inscrutable. I can see why some people just write the wives out at the beginning and don't look back. I don't want to make her into a villain because that's such a cliche. At the same time, she's inevitably an antagonist in the scenario I've set up. I think I'm doing an okay job of showing her anguish and frustration about the situation but also how much she dislikes and resents having to call in Paul and is pissed off about John's rejection, anger and fear of her. I picture her as being practical on some level, somewhat impatient, brusque and very determined.

Also I'm worried about picking a time period that was actually very contentious between John and Paul and ignoring lots of facts. I picked it because I thought it was a plausible time for John to OD and easier to have Paul and John in the same country. OTOH, this is fan fic and my reason for writing this at all is pure wish fulfillment. I can do what I want.

25. Name the three most important things for you to plan.

I'm not a big planner or a writer of long fics. It's really unusual for me to even have an idea that needs to be long, but I think this one does, at least in my head and I've already written 10k - highly unusual. In addition to what I mentioned above, I need to figure out how to get John and Paul away from Yoko and Tittenhurst. I need to figure out their emotional journey. I actually think this is all going to emerge as I write it and see what feels right. I need to think more about emotional beats. I have a tendency to wrap things up too quickly. Also I just remembered Ringo and George. I hadn't even thought about them yet! *sigh* It's not like they have to be in it but...wouldn't they be worried about John?...I need to figure out the Linda and Paul stuff which I've got Paul angsting about. That has to be emotionally resolved somehow.

30. What stories are most similar to yours?

Well, I've seen a couple that sound sort of similar and I've avoided reading these because I don't want to feel bad or feel influenced by them. They might actually not be similar at all! I don't know. In this one Paul helps John recover from years of disordered eating.

In this one John has amnesia.

In this one John survives the shooting and Paul brings an injured John back to England. I really want to read it because this person is a great writer. It's going to have to wait.

Thanks for the questions! Hopefully all this discussion will motivate me to get writing again. I'm hoping I'm finally starting to feel better after being sick for weeks and having no energy.

#wip ask meme #my fic

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the1975attheirverybest · 1 year

Note

Hello internet friend! I am very excited but none of my friends know I read fanfic so I'm bursting at the seams trying not to reveal myself.

So I've been reading fanfic since the dawn of time but I've always been super paranoid about someone finding out, so I do everything on an incognito window and just have 8 billion tabs open that get deleted every time my computer restarts and its not a good system. Today I finally logged into my Ao3 account and discovered a treasure trove of locked fics?!?!?! I have been depriving myself of quality content for YEARS and now my "marked for later" is miles long. I don't think I will ever be productive again but yay!!! ok carry on with life love ya -🕺

Hellooooo my dear!!! Okay, well, now you gotta share! Are these 1975 specific fics??? Or for other fandoms you’re in? Cuz it’s slim pickings out there on Ao3 for 75 stuff. Unless you like the George/Matty pairing, etc. so recs would be much appreciated hahaha.

But HURRRAAYYY FOR FIC DISCOVERY! I’m excited for you!! Don’t go too crazy and remember to read them only when you’ve done what you need to do for the day HAHA. OR go nuts! Life’s too short. Fuck capitalism. Hahaha

#🕺anon

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the-firebird69 · 5 months

Text

Deep Purple - Highway Star 1972 Video HQ

youtube

And he got the v Star to go real fast and it doesn't burn up it couldn't figure out how and Trump had part of it and he had a part of it no my son knows how to make things go fast and they weren't listening and they're puking on him and they're abusing him just barely got it out because they're sitting there blocking him Heather the only ones to do it and everybody else doesn't want them to and her son knows if he's if they're sitting there then we're in trouble and we don't mobilize and they're like bumps on the log so we think they're going to sit there and this heats them up and it heats up what they're doing and it gets them going on other groups not just sitting there bothering us they're dumb pieces in a dumb routine like Dan is right now he's a huge a****** that guy it's a massive a****** and he doesn't know when to shut up by the way but really this is about the Yamaha v Star and I guess the empire found out about it and it's been threatening our son not to say anything so these guys kind of Jarred it loose and here it is there's a huge number of these v Star being processed today a huge number is gigantic they are going to have a massive army of these bikes shortly and I mean massive it's going very fast they're making the parts they need it's coming out pretty good about 10 contingent they have of several trillion of these motorcycles if you add it up in the United States they have about 50 trillion in about 2 days it's a day and a half and right now it's increasing in their production of converging converting these and it's going very fast very very fast it's going to be probably 200 trillion by the end of the day but that is globally but there's the Honda level and between the two it's going to be a gigantic Force and they put them in the field all over the world and trucker has satellite offices everywhere and they're building more of these exhaust systems then all of the cars produced all year . And our son is angry he's doing this for real someone threat ening he wants him out of his face so you don't do it and you expect them to be making stuff and his losers expected and we're a huge army see you taking over the entire planet because of we're not George we have stuff below and this huge minds there that you're giving up so you can see a huge a****** run some sort of plan on us it won't work that way everybody and now we're going to warn you. Your phone doing the wrong thing today you get terminated because you have so many enemies that can hit you as almost anyone and we are

Thor Freya

Olympus

I suppose he's right and he says whatever you wouldn't know if something was big if it came and stepped on an entire city with one football I sort of don't get it with yeah you should get what I'm saying you're stupid so you don't even injured your father's been injured and you're dumb and you're doing the wrong thing so I guess I should listen but I won't I don't care and he says that he cares less it's just tough being a kid but it works and I sort of get that making huge mistakes and don't care possibly since we're going to need the cities that you're evacuating I'm going to take my kids out and they're going to crush whatever you have I don't like that sounds really mean but apparently that's what he's doing so making a big face saying I'm going to take his bicuy and they say they're paying us back and I don't know how

Dave

#Youtube

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kelyon · 9 months

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TMI Tuesday!

Hello Tumblr!

As I write this, it is just before noon on Monday and my work network has been down for about two hours. I'm in a holding period where I feel the need to try logging in about every 10 minutes or so, but within those 10 minutes, I basically can do whatever I want. Obviously, my thoughts have turned to Rumbelle.

I am proud to announce that Chapter 4 of On the House will be posted this Friday! Glad to get back into this universe, back into Gold's perspective. The "unique" thing about this fic is that I don't have it all outlined in advance, so there's a lot more room to play around (and probably get myself into trouble). I'm doing the George R R Martin "gardener" thing. It feels like riding a bicycle without using the handles, but I'm trying to lean in to the uncertainty and see what this method has to show me.

I feel like what's next in my Summer of WIPs varies depending on how horny I feel at the moment. Sometimes I need to write the multi-Rumple gangbang or the Beast fucking, but right now I'm imagining a fic where characters snuggle in bed and feed each other soup. I might dust off Nephila. (Of course, now it's so late in the summer I could put Nephila off just a bit longer and have it posted by Halloween.)

Let me know what fics of mine you want to see continued, or what ideas I should pursue next. Link to my original Summer of WIPs post here. I'll also be reblogging another ask meme, because those are always fun. And always feel free to ask me anything, even stuff I might not know the answer to!

That's it for me. I hope you all have a great day!

My inbox is here

#tmi tuesday #on the house

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soil-just-needs-water-to-be · 11 months

Text

Chapter 12

Word count 1013

This chapter is just a sweet little filler , slight mention of drugs , angst

Matty's POV

I had to leave the call , I want to spend as much time with George as I can but if he finds out what I did I know he'll just disappear forever and that can't happen. I wasn't planning on it to begin with I swear but I found it in my drawer when I got home I'd forgotten I'd got it from a guy at a party a few weeks back but didn't use it but I just saw it earlier and everything came flooding back after singing that song for George and I thought it would calm me down and it did but now I feel like death.

I hear my phone go off in my pocket, text alert, I'm sat on the bathroom floor again and just open it.

"Are you alright love x" , trust George to care and check up on me like that, he's so lovely what a gem he is. I don't know what to say though because I am alright my brain is empty but I also feel like I could just pass out any minute.

"Just feel a bit dizzy is all Georgie , just trying to settle down a bit , I might just need some sleep x", that might be okay, I can't have him worrying about me not when I'm under the influence because I will just say and that's not right. The light from my phone is the only thing lighting up the room as I didn't turn the light on but even this light is making me feel like I might throw up. So I put it on the floor face down and sit for a bit just drowning out everything around me. I contemplated laying down on the floor it's cool down there. It's weird you know this stuff makes my brain feel so empty and everything just feels light but I also feel like if I move everything I've drank or eaten today is going to come right back up not that it was much. Once I've contemplated life for a bit I get up and make my way back to the comfort of my bed. I'm going to call George back I think I need too I won't sleep if he's not there

"Can I call back now ?" , he texts back immediately

"Go ahead love x" with that I pick up my laptop and call him straight back and get comfy but being sure to be slow with it. He answers and he looks a little stressed

"You okay darlin ?"

"Yeh I'm alright love was just worried about you is all, I know you told me you were alright but I still worry about you", he's in his bed now too all wrapped up and I really hope he hasn't been crying that's what it looks like.

"I didn't upset you did I ?" Im searching his eyes to make it out better. I never meant for this to happen. This was the opposite of what I wanted.

"Nah todays just been weird like you said your tired , I probably am too, do you feel better"

"Not really but if I just lay down I'll be alright, do you wanna try sleep , I know I'll sleep better with your company", I'm still trying to pay full attention so I don't miss anything I can't have him upset, he's my light , I want to keep him that way.

" I'd love that", when he smiles at me his eyes light up and his face fills up blushing like I knew it would. God how did I find this actually Greek god, I can't be this lucky. "Good night love I'm right here if you need me you know don't feel bad if you need to wake me"

"Same to you , I'm always here darlin, sleep tight , sweet dreams", I watch him close his eyes and melt into the duvet, he's so beautiful, This would be something I'd have been up all night talking to Janey about this one guy that I'd found that took my breath away every time I saw them. She's the only one I'd told properly that I may like boys too , we'd have been up all night just talking. So I know she'd love to know she'd be watching down on me right now telling me to sort my shit out and learn to be open.

I take my phone out and text her , this is something I do when I know she'd want to know, knowing I could just speak my mind to her not that I'd get a reply but getting my words out it's like a little diary log.

"Hey JayJay it's been a while since I texted you last , I think the last one was when I'd started having panic attacks, they haven't gotten that much better but I've found someone to help me, he's wonderful if I do say so myself. He's got blonde hair just a little mess on top of his head. Dark eyes , you'd fuckin love, and Jesus Christ his voice is deep as fuck right. He helps me a lot , like I don't know why he wants too but I'm so grateful, I'm sure you and the guys would love him, he's like the missing link we were always looking for. Also I know what you'd say I need to sort my shit out and just cheer up but I'm trying honestly everything is just so hard right now, and don't even come at me okay I'm trying , I went to school ALL day today that's something I haven't done that in at least two weeks according to McDonald and Jamie, but I've done it today and that's all on George I wanna make him proud and happy. I think I might give it a go yanno. Take Shia LaBeoufs advice and just do it , I know you'll like that reference, Lou misses you too kids so confused ay but yeh I hope your doing okay up there lovey and having a party

I love you JayJay ❤️"

#george daniel #ross macdonald #adam hann #matty healy #the 1975 fanfic

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leam1983 · 1 year

Text

En Famille

Walt was waiting for me in the living room, and Sarah had gone out for a few errands. I'm not sure I remember sitting on Walt's knee, but there I am anyway, pressing myself against him. He feels my need and grunts in that particular way he does when libido and tenderness combine. He pulls me in closer, kissing me the whole way.

"Come on," he whispers, "give me everything. I'm right here. You're safe."

I do as I'm asked, just not with words. We don't really need to. What feels like an eternity later, he's climbing up the proverbial hill and making increasingly heated promises. These drive me absolutely wild.

"I'll never give you cases I know you can't handle," he swears, "I'll be the best boss you've ever had, Grem. We'll share the load as a team, as a family - because that's what we are. You, me and Sarah - forever."

I use all the pet names he likes and flatter his denied paternalist streak. I call him Dad in ways both fetishistic and earnest - and he moans, calls me son. "My love," he gasps, "my boy. My son."

We're only twenty years apart, but our differences make these feel like an ocean. For all of his excess weight, he's more in control of his body than I'll ever be of mine, more physically autonomous and better put-together than I am. It's nice to have a pair of arms you can feel childlike in, one where you can abandon all pretense and admit that you do not, in fact, have your shit squared out.

I've already spoken about how Walt loves this; being the Helping Hand, the Steady Arm, the Sound Mind. Climax came and went, and he's now spent fifteen minutes holding me close, eyes closed, whispering in my ear.

Eventually, we both hear the door open. There isn't an ounce of worry in us, or in Walt specifically, as he looks up to see Sarah return. She smiles in that way she has that signals rising need, with a reddening of her cheeks and her lips turning thin.

It's been long enough, now, that Sarah sees why I'm in love with Walt. It's not just sex or base libido, love is a solid three-pronged structure between us. Walt calls it into effect by outstretching a hand while maintaining me in place with the other.

He only says one word. Daughter.

Eventually, I have to give Sarah access to Walt's midriff, and so he helps me slide off of him and helps me transfer myself to the couch. We pass liplocks between the three of us, and he soon climaxes for her as well.

"You're a beautiful young woman in every way that matters," he whispers to her. "You're the only woman I'll have ever loved like this."

She melts against him. "And I'm your daughter, too."

Walt gently squeezes us closer. "You're both mine. Daughter and son, partners, lovers, friends... You're everything I could've ever hoped for."

I sigh. "I wish the outside world didn't think this family fetish thing was creepy. I wish we could officialize that."

Walter kisses the top of my forehead. "I'd adopt you both a hundred times over if I could. I'd take your surnames and you'd take mine and each other's. We'd share absolutely everything."

I laugh. "Sounds cool, but it wouldn't be super practical. I don't think you'd like being called Walter Gremlin-Tremblay-George..."

After spending a few seconds slowly and enthusiastically kissing Sarah, he turns to me. "That's where you're wrong, love. Nothing could possibly make me happier. I'm more concerned with how we'd notarize it."

We have another long liplock. "Maybe it doesn't matter," he says. "Maybe our knowing is enough. We can share everything as it is, we don't need to wait for anyone's approval while we're here. You'll be mine in all the ways I want you to be, and Society doesn't get a say in this."

I'm writing this after our Dogpile phase, with Walt and Sarah nestled on one side of the couch and my feet resting in Walt's lap. They're both fast asleep, Walt sawing logs like there's no tomorrow and hugging our petite girl like she's a younger kid taking a nap with a trusted relative. One of his hands is clutching my left ankle in lieu of one of my hands, and his thumb his still autonomically stroking the one pad of flesh on the root of my foot that isn't tickle-prone.

I love that we start our weekends like this: by shedding the week and basking in our warmth, our closeness and our love.

#life post #cw: sex mention

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rydrake6 · 1 year

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Vent post: TW for suicide and self harm and School maybe? Idk how to format these.

I know that I don't usually make posts like this, but I just need somewhere to express that I am incredibly fucking stressed out about school. I'm probably at least a hundred assignments behind and I was supposed to work over the break, but I just spent the whole week getting stressed out and hating myself for not being able to get on my stupid school account and actually get work done. I don't know why, but I'm terrified to do any work. Maybe it's a fear that I'm not going to be able to get anything done, maybe my account having my deadname on it has something to do with it, I don't know. Me saying at least a hundred isn't an exaggeration, by the way. Because one time I was behind on FIFTY SEVEN ASSIGNMENTS!!! I had a mental breakdown on the first day of school and wasn't able to get any work done, so I've been behind ever since. It doesn't really help that my financial math class makes no fucking sense and the one time I tried to get help from the actual teacher of that class was more concerned with my grade than actually helping me understand the material. "Do the discussion questions and you'll get a good grade." Motherfucker how am I supposed to answer the discussion questions if I don't understand what they're about? I got a math tutor and even she thinks that this class is too complicated. But I just HAD to go into financial math because I NEEDED a class that I'd actually be using in the world. My other classes aren't even that bad, they're fun even. But I'm so far behind in them and I'm so terrified of going back into that account that I don't want to do them. The fun of learning is lost when I can't think about doing it without also thinking of killing myself or self harming! That's not an exaggeration either. I literally cannot think about getting to the fucking mountain that is my overdue school assignments without thinking about killing myself. Or at the very least, it's hard to not think about suicide when I'm thinking about school. Which is a problem, because I need to be able to do schoolwork, but I can't do schoolwork when I'm thinking "I would actually rather die than do this." The thing is too, I'm passing my class. I don't have straight As, but I am passing. I've even been called a model student by the director of the virtual academy himself. There are just so many assignments and I can't possibly get all of them done and my completionist and perfectionist ass doesn't want me to leave any assignment behind. And because I'm leaving so fucking many assignments behind, I'm beating myself up for this. I always beat myself up about school stuff, because there's not really much going on in my life. Up until recently, I didn't have a life outside of school. I've always gotten good grades, good notes, good behavior, and comments from the teachers saying "Rydrake is full of life and brightens everyone's day in the classroom." I actually used to enjoy school too. Maybe it's the fact that I went to a Waldorf Charter school, but I actually felt accepted there most of the time. I enjoyed the lessons. I had friends. I remember one time in 7th grade, we were coming in from recess and the teacher started talking about picking up trash in the classroom and he picked up a piece of paper and unfolded it. It was a breakup letter and everyone in the class was arguing who's it was. Eventually the teacher wrote on the initials of the people on the board and it turned out to be King George and the American Colonists. It was an introduction to a history lesson. That was probably around three years ago now. That's my best memory from school. I have so many good memories at that school. I have so many good memories, but I can barely remember anything before covid. I still remember the last day before the quarantine, too. We were standing lined up at our classes log (We had logs, wood not documents, for every grade class) and we said our goodbyes like usual. Next thing I know we're doing classes on a screen and assignments in our google classroom. I think shortly after that I started figuring things out.

#vent post #vent tag #school vent #Idk how to tag things #But this is a vent post

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blueeyedgeorgie · 3 years

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Cancelled-Dream Was Taken

A/N: Surprise bitch. Weren’t we expecting for me to release mcyt fanfics soon? If I didn’t tag my usual @‘s it’s because idk if you’d like to be tagged for mcyt content.

Pronouns: she/her

Word Count: 2.3k+

_________________

"You're so harsh on him!" Her hands sat on the keyboard, staring at the green human that stood on Y/n's computer screen.

She needed to be careful. While this was a heated moment, she couldn't let herself get too loud for multiple reasons. If she got too loud, Dream's stream viewers would be able to tell she was in the next room or they would just receive noise complaints from their neighbors.

"No Y/n! You're too soft on him! He needs to learn that he can't get away with everything. You're setting him up for failure." As the h/c girl listened to her roommate speak, she had to remind herself over and over again; 'This wasn't real.' Dream was mad, not Clay.

This had all been arranged as roleplay. Y/n would be leaving in a few days to go visit some of her family for a reunion, so Wilbur had been the one to think up the brilliant idea of what was playing out now; an argument between Y/n and Dream. The plan was to have Y/n get so upset she didn't log onto the SMP for the next few days, only to come back with a master plan to backstab Dream.

At first, Clay wasn't really on board with the thought of him getting angry at Y/n. They had been together for a little over a year, there wasn't a single moment they had gotten upset with one another. But surprisingly, Y/n had been the one to convince Clay it was a good idea.

The fans knew Dream and Y/n had a close friendship, Dream had always been so protective of her. But when this was going down, they didn't know how to act.

Every time Y/n would glance at her chat, she'd see thousands of comments rising up as new ones appeared. Comment after comment, it looked like the fans were shocked by the way this stream was turning out.

"I'm not setting him up for anything! He's a kid, Dream!" Y/n glanced from the chat, back at the screen showing her PC game. Standing on her screen was Dream and Tommyinnit, she had accompanied Dream to visit Tommy.

"You're just babying him! 'He's a kid!' Well, he needs to learn to grow up eventually," his voice had been filled with such spite. It felt weird to hear Clay speaking to her like this in such a tone.

For a moment, she stared at the green man before a short scoff escaped her lips. "I can't believe you." With that, Y/n had pressed a few keys, turning her character towards the nether portal a couple of yards away. Before Dream had gotten the chance to speak again, Y/n began to move away.

"Y/n! Come back here!"

She flicked a few buttons, taking a moment to look behind her character to see Dream following. Good, everything was going according to plan. Within the next few minutes, she'd be able to log off and she'd be on vacation for the next few days.

The h/c girl ignored the green man as she stepped through the portal, taking her to Minecraft's version of hell. Almost done, she just needed to find a good spot to stop as she listened to Dream continue to speak.

"You can't keep ignoring me! You know I'm right in this. You know you can't keep defending Tommy. You know Tommy is driving a wedge between us-"

Perfect. Y/n had stopped just on the edge of a bridge, molten lava sat feet below them. If she fell, she'd surely die. "No."

"No?" Dream was a bit surprised to hear Y/n cut him off, but he stayed silent as he was prepared to listen to what she had to say.

"No. No more. I don't wanna hear you blame Tommy for us breaking apart. I want you to listen to me. You've been acting like much more of a dick than usual and I hate it. I despise it. You've changed for the worst because you think you can step on everyone. At this point, everyone fears to tell you the truth-except me. I'll be a hundred percent honest with you, you've been so egotistical, it's really pissed me off. This is your fault, Dream. Not Tommy's. You exiled a child for pulling a prank on a vacation house! Not even George's real house!"

"But-"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm done, but I don't wanna hear you bullshit me. So shut the fuck up."

A moment of silence passed between them as Y/n stared at her screen. Just a few more steps.

And within seconds, Dream had pulled out his netherite sword. With one hit, she was falling back into lava. Y/n glanced at her chat, a look of shock on her face as she read over what a few comments said. A moment of silent tension had passed before Y/n had finally spoken up, removing her from the voice chat she was in.

"Alright guys, I guess that's enough for the day. I'll see you all... later." With that, she had clicked a few buttons, raiding Dream's live-stream as she ended hers.

For the next 20 to 30 minutes, Y/n knew Clay would be busy streaming. So she had decided to take a bit of time to wind down and think to herself.

Get a glass of water.

'Are the fans harassing him in his twitch chat?'

Sit down on the living room couch.

'The SMP fans were always so protective of me.'

Pet Patches.

'Was I too much when I snapped at him?'

It didn't seem like 30 minutes had passed when Clay had walked out of his streaming room, only to find Y/n on the couch with Patches in her lap. "Hey, N/n." "Oh, your stream is already over?" Y/n smiled, pulling herself out of her thoughts as she scoot over, giving Clay room to take a seat right by her.

"Yeah, did you lose track of time or something?"

"I must've. How did the chat react after I 'died'?" She smiled up at her boyfriend as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer into his embrace.

"Everyone was filled with joy that you died."-Y/n playfully swatted at him. "Okay, okay! I got a few chat messages of people bashing me for it, but it's fine."

"Well, it's a good thing the chat wasn't completely littered with hate. How was it after my raid?"

"Honestly, not that bad as you expect. Like I said, just a few comments. Nothing bad, I just ignored it." Clay placed a hand on Patches's head, gently scratching her, followed by the animal beginning to purr.

"Good to hear, anyways... I'm not ready to pack. Do you think we can procrastinate?" The h/c girl let out a huff leaning against her boyfriend. "How?"

"I was thinking a bit of movie binging, cuddling, and ordering dinner?" A cheeky smile spread on her face as she spoke.

"It's like you read my mind."

The couple had made it through three movies, by now it was later at night. The sun had set and they had already door dashed some food. By now they were in the middle of watching 'The Empire Strikes Back.'

'I love you.' 'I know.'

The iconic moment between Hans and Leia had been interrupted by the sound of Clay's phone buzzing. "Why is George calling?"

"What?" Y/n was a bit curious herself. Considering the timezones, George should be asleep right now. Pausing the TV, she turned her attention to her boyfriend's phone.

"Hey Clay."

"What's up, George? Isn't it like early in the morning for you?" Clay raised a brow, moving his phone so Y/n would be able to see George as well.

"Yeah, I had to stay up to fix a YouTube video I need to get out today. I was about to go to bed and I checked Twitter-"

"Oh no." Clay made a short joke, only to be cut off by his friend.

"I don't know if it's trending for you in America, but you might as well look."

"What's going on?" He swiped up, taking him to his home screen so he could click on the little blue bird app. Y/n had grabbed her phone from the coffee table, opening up the app as well. "#Cancel Dream... #Y/n... #Dream SMP"

"Is... is Clay getting canceled for killing me in Minecraft?" Y/n scrolled through the tweets involving the hashtag 'Y/n.' She could see plenty of people defending her, but making it much bigger of a problem than it actually was.

"Oh, hey Y/n. But yeah, he is." George chuckled awkwardly, scrolling through his Twitter app as well.

"This is so fucking stupid."

"It really is. So we might as well get this cleared up with the fans as soon as possible. Do you want me to tweet something, or do you want to?" Y/n looked up at her boyfriend, it looked like he was thinking.

"Yeah, I'll tweet it. Don't worry about this, Y/n."

"Alright, whatever you say," she replied, pulling a blanket over her as she waited for Clay to finish typing his response.

"Here's what I'm gonna say: 'I can't believe you guys actually think me and @(y/n) are in an actual fight in real life. We have been good friends since forever, the fight was only roleplay. I love that you guys are so protective of Y/n, but no one's actually upset.' How's that sound?"

"I think that's good," George hummed softly.

"Yeah, I doubt you'll stay 'canceled' once you've explained to them it was all part of the SMP lore." The h/c girl smiled up at her boyfriend with a small nod.

"Alright, I'm gonna post it. George, I think you should go to bed because you're half asleep already."

Y/n turned, looking at her boyfriend's iPhone. "Go to sleep, Gogy!"

"Alright, alright... I'll talk to you guys later." The call had ended with Clay and Y/n saying goodbye to their friend while George simply yawned to them as a response.

As soon as the call was over, Clay looked at the response to his tweet. It didn't seem to be going too well. There had been a few fans who understood what was going on and responded with a paragraph as an apology for the misunderstanding. But most replies had been telling Clay he was bullshitting the fans or that he wasn't being honest.

"I'm sorry, Clay," his girlfriend had huffed as she read through the responses to his tweet.

"Honestly I'm just a bit pissed off. Literally, any time someone tries to 'cancel' me, it's over something stupid. I'm not a bad guy, it just feels like some people just don't want to see me succeed." Clay had excused himself to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

It hurt Y/n to hear how upset her boyfriend was. He never got too upset over things, but seemed to take a small toll on him. "Hold on. Let me say something." The h/c girl couldn't be asked to post multiple tweets of her response to hate sent towards Clay over the internet. So what was better than a short video that could be posted to the blue bird app?

"Um, hey guys. I'd just like to make this quick. Stop sending hate towards Dream. The fight was roleplay and nothing more. I'm gonna be busy for the next couple of days so Wilbur thought of a good idea to help build SMP lore with me and Dream and we both agreed to the argument. Now stop sending the green man hate, or I'll commit war crimes or something-"

Y/n had been interrupted by the sound of Clay letting out a small giggle. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, just keep going with your video."

"Whatever, I'm cool. No matter what Dream says. Anyways, I'll speak to you all later." Y/n had hit the red button again, ending her video. Within seconds, the video had been uploaded to her Twitter account.

Placing her phone back down on the table, Y/n approached her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his torso. "I'm really sorry about the hate, Clay. I love you."

"Don't apologize for something you can't control. I love you more." The brunette held his partner close, accepting her hug. Y/n always loved his hugs, she always felt so safe in his embrace.

The rest of the night had been spent with more cuddling and more Star Wars movies. Hours had passed before Y/n had even thought about the Twitter situation again. But for some reason, she had decided to look at the app again tonight.

It was 2 in the morning by now, Clay was half asleep. His head laid in the h/c girl's lap as she brushed a hand through his hair, her free hand opening up her Twitter app once again.

It had been a bit of a surprise to see a couple of trending hashtags had changed so quickly. What was trending now was #Dream, #Y/n,#(ship name), and #Dream's Laugh. This had to be about Y/n's short clip she posted. And by the looks of it, people had stopped acting so harsh towards Clay. But instead, they had decided to focus on the fact Dream and Y/n were hanging out together. Not to mention the fact Dream and let out a stupid little giggle because of Y/n. People had been apologizing to him through Twitter for being so hard on him.

"Babe."

"Hm?" Clay mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Pretty much everyone is apologizing to you over Twitter for being hardasses."

"Hm, that's good to hear."

"You're really tired, huh?" Y/n paused her scrolling to look down at her boyfriend.

"Yeah," He continued to mumble, followed by a short yawn.

"Alright, time for bed, babe." Y/n smiled to herself, beginning to carefully move away from Clay. "I can pack tomorrow and we can laugh over the stupid bird app tomorrow after you've gotten a good amount of sleep."

"I still can't believe Twitter tried canceling me over roleplay."

"I can't believe you got uncancelled by shippers."

Taglist: @notphilosopherstudentblog

#dreamwastaken #dream was taken #dream was taken x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream smp #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dream was taken imagine #dream was taken one shot #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken oneshot #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp oneshot

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