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percervall · 4 months

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what a memorable N.Y.E

Pairing: George Russell x fem!reader x Fernando Alonso Words: 2017 Warnings: oral (f & m receiving), dirty talk, degradation kink, p in v, unprotected sex, double penetration, anal, slight cuckolding (if you squint), multiple orgasms, squirting, no beta -we die like my hope in ferrari A/N: @monzabee, the fic that started in your DMs, hope it lives up to your expectations!

In which you start the new year with a bang

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You have no idea how you ended up back in your hotel room, nor do you know when Fernando ended up there too. It’s not his room, you don’t think but the champagne has made it difficult to keep things straight. Then again, by this point it has become a tradition for the three of you to spend New Year’s together so you’re not surprised to find yourself very much naked, spread out in the middle of the bed on top of the waterproof blanket he had brought with your boyfriend buried between your thighs, feasting on your cunt like a man starved. George has made you cum twice already –always so generous, your boyfriend– and he is rapidly hurtling you into a third until Fernando pulls George’s face away from you, leaving you whining and whimpering.

“Nando,” you whine, “I thought you wanted to see me ruined?” The Spaniard grins at you, and it’s filthy and filled with a promise that has your stomach in knots.

“This is why I said to George, your pretty girlfriend is the sluttiest girl in this club. Such a slut for cock, aren’t you hermosa?”

“Why don’t you come here so I can show you?” you tease, sounding a lot braver than you feel. His words leave you hot all over and you can’t help but clench your thighs together, much to Fernando’s amusement. George watches this back and forth intently, his cock already straining against his trousers.

“You’re not desperate enough for my cock, but let’s see what that mouth can do,” Fernando says before instructing George to strip and get on the bed.

“Georgie here has been so good to you, why don’t you show him just how grateful you are, hermosa?”

You eagerly crawl between your boyfriend’s thighs, wiggling your ass a little more than strictly necessary, showing off the plug George had gifted you in preparation for today, as you get comfortable. Fernando hums appreciatively as the emerald embedded in the gold base catches the light. Leaning forward, you arch your back while taking George’s dick in your hand, stroking him before darting your tongue out to lap at a bead of precum. George hisses at the feeling of your tongue licking the slit. You wrap your lips around his tip and keep stroking him. George grips the sheets to stop himself from bucking up into you.

You moan around his cock as Fernando slaps your ass.

“I said, show some appreciation, not tease him. Suck his cock like the good little slut you are,” he whispers in your ear, leaning over you. His words have you clenching around nothing and you’re quick to oblige. You know you better listen to the Spaniard and for once just do as you’re told; something tells you that Fernando wouldn’t hesitate to punish you if you don’t.

You slowly take more of George's cock in your mouth, flattening your tongue against the underside as you do. Fernando hums approvingly, moving to press kisses against your neck and shoulder, and you would do anything to hear him make that noise again.

George moans at the feeling of your wet mouth enveloping more and more of his cock. "Knew you could do as you're told," Fernando murmurs, his still clothed erection pressed up against the plug. It's impossible not to grind against him as you bob your head, taking George a little deeper each time. "Ah, ah ah," Fernando tuts, fingers digging into your hips to keep you still, "make him cum first, and then I might give you what you want." And with that, he moves away, biting the curve of your ass to serve as a reminder of what’s to come.

Trying to time your breathing, you take George as deep as you can, gagging a little as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. "Fuck," he hisses, one hand now buried in your hair. The sharp sting of him pulling on it has you moaning around him once more.

"That's it, such a good girl for us, letting George use your mouth like this." George bucks his hips, head thrown back. "So good... Am close, princess," he pants, fucking your mouth in earnest now. You keep still, allowing your boyfriend to chase his release. It doesn't take long before he curses once, hand on the back of your head to keep you in place, as he spills down your throat. He collapses back onto the hotel bed, looking pleased as punch. You pull off him, careful not to spill any of his cum and make a spectacle of it, showing Fernando how you swallow all of it. The Spaniard grabs your chin, tilting your face up so he can kiss you. He licks the seam of your lips, and you’re more than willing to open up. Fernando moans into your mouth as he tastes your boyfriend’s cum on your tongue. You can’t help but roll your hips, desperately seeking something to alleviate the ache between your thighs.

“Oh you want it so badly, don’t you, hermosa? Need to have that pretty cunt of yours filled, hmm?” Fernando coos when he breaks the kiss.

“Please,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed at the prospect of finally getting fucked. Fernando chuckles, pinching your nipple, making you gasp and arch into his touch.

“Think you’ve earned this cock?”

“Uh-hu,” you sigh. Fernando chuckles once more, giving you a slight push to make you lie down.

“Keep her on the edge, George. She’s not allowed to cum until she’s full of cock.”

Despite this not being the first time you have found yourself in this situation, Fernando’s filthy mouth always leaves you blushing. You love it, you more than love it, but the degradation is not something you and George really delve into on a regular basis.

“You’re doing so good, princess, such a good girl,” George murmurs as he presses his lips against yours. He rolls you half onto his chest, your leg hiked up and across his waist and his finger dipping in and out of you. Whining, you roll your hips against his hand, needing more than just the tip of his finger.

“Ssh, I got you baby,” George hums, sliding his middle and ring finger into you. The stretch has you sighing contently as he lazily fucks you with them. You’re not even aware of Fernando kneeling down onto the bed, now fully naked, dropping a bottle of lube and a few foil packets onto the sheets.

“Are you ready, hermosa?”

“Please, I need it, need you to fuck me..”

“Such a cock-hungry whore, aren’t you? Need to start the new year off with a bang, no?” Breathlessly, you nod and let the two drivers manoeuvre your body so you’re fully straddling your boyfriend. You drag your pussy over George’s cock, fully hard again. He groans, stilling your movements so he can slide into you. Both of you can’t help but moan when he bottoms out. You can hear the rustling of packaging being torn open and him rolling the condom down his hard length. His large hands run down your back, pushing you flush against George. Anticipation swirls low in your belly as Fernando gently pulls on the plug. You slide your knees even further out, arching your lower back and pushing your ass up. At this point you will do whatever it takes, as long as it means Fernando will finally give in. George cradles your face in his hand as he leans down slightly to kiss you. You can’t help but gasp into his mouth as Fernando dribbles lube down your ass, spreading your cheeks.

“Yes,” you whimper, breaking the kiss when the Spaniard pushes the tip against your entrance, “Yes, please.. Please Nando..” He chuckles at your begging, pressing a kiss against the top of your spine as he slowly eases himself into your tight hole. Your brain short circuits at the feeling of being stretched and filled like this, face buried in George’s neck.

“Dime niña bonita,” Fernando murmurs against your skin.

“S-so good. Fer-... Fuck, so full..” you pant. George pulls you closer still, his hands pushing on your shoulder blades.

“Let us make you feel good, princess,” he whispers, kissing along your collar bones. You make a noise that could mean anything really, and just let both men use your body. It’s impossible to keep track of whose cock is filling you, the sensation too overwhelming to form a single coherent thought. Through the haze of lust, you can hear both men pant and curse as they chase their release. You can feel the coil in the pit of your stomach tighten, clenching down on George’s cock.

“So tight, so good for me princess. Fuck, I’m gonna- gonna cum…”

“Yes..” you sigh, “please baby, fill me.” George tilts your chin down for a searing kiss, groaning into your mouth as he spills deep inside of you. Fernando pulls you up by your arms, your back now pressed against his front. You lock eyes with George and the love you see written all over his face while another man fucks what’s his, forms a lump in your throat.

“So pretty like this, princess,” George says as one of Fernando’s hands cups your breast while the other encircles your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just keeps it there as his hips snap against your ass. George’s softening cock slips out of you and you can feel his cum slowly dripping out.

“Oh you like being put on display like this, don’t you? Such a slut for it, aren’t you hermosa?” The only response you can give him is a whine as the hand that was playing with your nipple slides down your stomach to rub two fingers against your clit.

“Please.. Fernando, I need- Need to- please please please please can I cum?” you sob, thighs trembling.

“Hold it,” he growls into your ear, applying the slightest bit more pressure against your clit. It has you bucking in his hold, earning you a dark chuckle. You can feel the pressure building low in your stomach, your orgasm so close that you can taste it. Laying your hand on top of the one he has around your throat, you squeeze it, telling him just what you need, as he tightens his hand.

“You gonna cum for us, like the good little cockwhore you are?”

“Yes,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut as the tidal wave finally crashes over you. He keeps rubbing your clit as he whispers the filthiest things in your ear. Your body goes rigid, arching against Fernando and a scream dies on your lips. You can feel this pressure building, the feeling different than you’re used to and before you really know what’s happening, your orgasm drips all over Fernando’s fingers and George’s groin who’s still lying underneath you. The Spaniard bites down on the skin between neck and shoulder, hips stuttering before he spills into the condom. He slowly pulls out, leaving you whimpering as your legs stop functioning. George carefully helps you to lie down on the bed, brushing your hair back from where it’s now sticking to your forehead. It vaguely registers that Fernando gets off the bed to dispose of the condom. A bottle is pressed against your lips and you greedily gulp down the cold water, not even caring that half of it runs down your chin. The two drivers work in tandem to clean you up with a flannel and move you onto the dry sheets as they pull the blanket off the bed.

“Did so good, baby,” George murmurs as he pulls you against his chest. Fernando climbs in behind you, draping the sheet over all three of your bodies. You sigh contently, snuggling into your boyfriend. “Sleep, hermosa, we’ll shower in a bit,” the older driver says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he curls around you. What a way to ring in the new year, you think, already looking forward to reliving this night for the rest of the year.

Welp, there you have it. The threesome fic no one asked for (what is it with me and writing threesomes to kick off the new year??? I am having déjà vu)

This would not have happened without @monzabee & @vetteltea, thanks for encouraging this brain rot!

Please let me know what you think, your likes, comments and tags mean the world to me 💜

#f1 fanfic #george russell fanfic #george russell smut #george russell x reader #fernando alonso smut #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso x reader

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two-white-butterflies · 10 months

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drug (two) | toto wolff

Description: He meets his girlfriend's parents, and they don't like him. (age gap.)

Pairing: toto wolff/horner!reader

part one

"We're trending, and not for a good reason." you chuckled nervously, browsing through the thick of social media. Darn Twitter's post viewing limits, there were at least a million posts mentioning you. "Bad publicity is still publicity," Toto responded - closing his eyes in his inability to fight against rest.

"Hm, will you tell my father's publicist that?" you teased him and all color drained out of his face. He reached for his reading glasses on the bedside table, eyes slightly narrowing against the sharp light. "What is it about?" he groaned in an attempt to have a clear view of your phone. "-ever heard of dark mode?" he humored, slightly freezing when he sees the article's title.

"They make it seem like we're a divorced couple," he joked again, but it was clear that he was panicking. He hoped that nothing would come out of Christian. He prayed that his rival would learn to accept the change sooner than the media could get a wind of it - but nay, Toto was always a dreamer anyways. "Well, aren't you?" you giggled.

"I'll have this wiped off the face of earth," he mumbled to himself, reaching for his laptop hidden under the bed. "Gods I hate it when sports magazines push out this non-sports crap," you rolled your eyes - contemplating on whether or not you should message Christian. He was the only person that could fix this.

A sigh escapes your mouth. He wouldn't understand.

"How did you get rid of that article anyways?" George couldn't help but ask while taking the cooler out of the trunk. "I had to convince a close friend to buy the company," Toto sighed.

"I can't believe that we're living in a reality where Wolff-Horner babies are possible." Lewis chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. Gods, there were a million ways that this one could go wrong. "You're thinking way too far into the future," you chuckled - helping George carry the ice creams inside the house.

Christian half-expected his daughter to show up around Toto Wolff's arms, but he was more surprised to see the man show up alone. "Nice seeing you again," Geri smiled, welcoming the Austrian with arms open wide. "I wanted to bring Y/N but she feels under the weather." Toto reasoned for his daughter, but he already knew that it was some half-baked attempt to evade this dinner.

"Rainy seasons always make her sick." Geri sympathized. Christian shook his head in disbelief. No amount of clarity would ever make his wife believe that you were anything less of an angel. "I'm sorry for being late," the man apologized, sitting on the chair parallel them.

A waitress comes towards them with a menu, but Toto ignores the sheet of paper. "I'm not really here to have dinner. I wanted to inform you of something," he started with a tone that told Christian that he wasn't going to like where the conversation was going. "What is it?" he couldn't help but ask - taking a sip of his lemon water.

"She asked me to marry her." Toto began with a sad smile. "No, no fucking way." Christian shook his head. If this was Toto's way of inviting them to the wedding then the wedding wasn't fucking happening. "And I redirected her." he added and Geri let out a sigh of relief. You were too young for marriage.

"Because I knew that you didn't approve the both of us." he breathed, looking to the far horizon. Toto was a traditional man. He dreamt of a house in Beverly Hills or Bel Air - beside some hot shot producer - inside a house that seemed like a cleaning nightmare. He wanted a small family, a white picket fence with fun neighbors.

He'd be willing to let that go - all for you.

All for your family that didn't love him in return.

"Is this your way of trying to convince us? Y/N's had her turn of older billionaires in the past - they're all the same. I'm not letting her make the same mistakes again," he responded with courage.

Toto stood up - fiddling with his Patek Philippe watch.

"I want you to think about it, Christian. I really love your daughter."

@oceandeepthirst2 @h-c-u @perihelioneclipse @fallwinterr @ohkapten @crimeshowjunkie @ironcowboycopnickel @clusidino-27 @luckyladycreator2 @upsteadsstuff @omgsuperstarg @champomiel @wavesnotfeelings @soph1644

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff

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justanamesstuff · 5 months

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Chapter 1

Seasons

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: Hiii guys, I'm so nervous for this BUT very excited too!! I hope you like it <3

Warnings: swearing a bit?, typos maybe.

Word count: 3 K

MASTERLIST TAGLIST

Every season has its colours, has its smells, has its traditions. Like every season, this love has its particularities…

Around November of 2020, England

“Matty- Oh my god!!“

The constant banging on her wall and the high-pitched moaning at the other side woke Y/n up. Quickly, she took her pillow and placed it on top of her face, trying to muffle the horrible sounds reaching her ears. ‘God, is she having a good time? Or he’s killing her?’, the thought crossed the girl's mind.

Most of the time they weren’t that loud, but during that morning they just seemed to not care.

It was useless, the sounds were getting louder and louder. Y/n couldn’t bear with it any more and knowing that even if they –luckily– stopped she wouldn’t come back to sleep. So, Y/n decided to go downstairs. Maybe one of the guys was making breakfast, which would help with the awful start of her day.

Her prayers weren’t heard. The kitchen was empty and no breakfast was made. She tried to cheer up a little, because Y/n needed to survive the day. To be honest, every day and morning it was getting harder and harder.

After a quiet but long sigh, Y/n started cooking for everyone. Nothing unusual since she tried to do it most of the mornings in exchange for their generosity letting her stay at the boys' studio –which was half Matty’s house as well. Spending the quarantine rent-free with them, listening how they recorded the new album and messing around was a true blessing if she tried to focus on the bright side of everything.

Well, they kind of forced her because they were very against Y/n spending those months alone in her flat. The boys cared about the girl as a best friend and as a sister too. They were a bunch of drama queens most of the time, but deep down Y/n was enormously grateful with/for them.

Thinking about the first months, Y/n couldn’t deny those were amazing. The entire group spent a lot of quality time, doing the stupidest challenges, doing Instagram lives for the fans, watching a lot of movies, etc. Although everything took a turn when another person joined the party. When Nadia arrived.

It wasn’t like Y/n hated her, in fact, it was the opposite which created a big dilemma for her. Matty’s girlfriend was nice and the idea of having another girl was actually comforting during the tough times. But Y/n wasn’t so fond of the situation for other reasons.

For a period –a very long one– if you asked her, she endured with it and put on her best –fake– happy face. Y/n’s acting talents were very handy at times. Although, her true feelings were still there, underneath the surface, where no one can notice them. Specially Matty.

Time went by and the whole thing was making her more anxious, and although the idea of leaving crippled into her mind at every minute, she couldn’t really decide. Y/n didn’t want to leave but watching Matty 24/7 attached to the other girl’s side was taking the best of her mental health.

Y/n’s mind was running fast with thoughts while she cooked, which made her subconsciously ignore the tall man coming down after he heard movement downstairs. George watched his friend move around, knowing more than anyone in the house about her sorrows. George was probably the closest to her out of the four guys. He was the only one who knew all of her secrets and kept it secured as if it was his own.

The drummer stared at her, expecting for Y/n to notice him, but he acknowledged that the girl was in another dimension. She used to do that more than she liked to admit. George could bet ‘the morning moaning festival’ taking place half an hour prior was the main reason.

Y/n finished cooking a big amount of scrambled eggs and turned searching for a plate when she saw George standing in the partially lighted corridor. “Fuck G! You scared the shit out of me!” she exclaimed while resting a hand on her chest.

“Sorry!” the big man shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t mean to scare you, love.” he apologized, approaching his best friend. “Good morning.” he greeted her properly, and she huffed.

“Good morning to you.” Y/n answered sarcastically after G placed a kiss on top of her head.

“So, you heard, huh?”

“I can’t stand it any more, G.” she let him know. “It’s just a lot.” she continued, lowering her voice scared another of the boys could hear her.

“I know, love.” the drummer said with an apologetic expression. “But the lockdown is nearly over, and y’know none of us would like you to go.” G said as he searched for mugs.

“Why not? It’s my life, my freedom!” Y/n protested, starting to get annoyed. “It’s getting worse every day…” Y/n desperately moved her hands in the air trying to prove her point.

“Believe me… I know!” George searched for her eyes, keeping eye contact when Y/n looked back at him, waiting for his next words. “I’m not in your…situation, but I’m getting a little annoyed too.” G agreed with her.

“Yes, but it’s his house. He can do whatever he wants…”

“I half agree.” G nodded. “This might be his house, but it’s the place we choose as a studio, so for the time being its our place too…yours too!” George continued rambling, filling the mugs with hot water. “So, they need to stop with the noises.”

A comfortable silence fell between them until Y/n broke it again thinking out loud.

“What the hell can I do?”

“About what?” A third voice came from the hallway. Matty made his entrance wearing a tired expression matching his gray sweatpants and plain shirt. He approached Y/n, leaving her a kiss on her right cheek. “What can you do about what, love?” he rephrased his question.

“I- It’s nothing — Morning” she said without looking at him, instead walking towards the table bringing a mug with her.

“There must be something. You sounded worried.” Matty insisted.

“It’s something between Y/n and I, mate.” George said in a joking way, trying to distract him. “Something between best pals, you wouldn’t understand it.” he stated, rounding Y/n with his left arm meanwhile he winked at Matty taking a sip of his morning tea.

“Fuck off!” Matty protested. They usually have a competition about the title which Y/n find equally lame and cute. She easily felt the tension leaving her shoulders, relaxing thanks to their stupid discussion, knowing that for now Matty dropped his interrogation.

“Tell him, darling!” G urged her.

“It’s too early for this fight. Shut up and sit. I’ll bring the cutlery.” Y/n said, detaching herself from George.

“Y/n is just too nice to tell ya, mate. She loves me more.” the singer continued joking, obviously unaware of the real implication of his words.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Matty.” George answered, sitting at his usual spot at the table.

“Who was the beautiful soul that made breakfast?” Ross entered the kitchen and stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and inhaling dramatically.

“You know the answer.” John teased as he appeared from behind Ross. “You know you don’t have to, Y/n.” the musician approached her and helped with the forks and knives.

“Yes, for the hundred times…I know, John.” she looked at him. “But we all know that I would feel guilty since you all never let me pay for anything.”

“Because you don’t have to pay us, love.” Matty said from his place at the table with his sight fixed on his phone. He and the damn nicknames.

“But- “

“No but’s, Y/n. We’re happy to have you here!” Ross said as they all sat around the table.

They were serving breakfast when the conversation took another direction -something about the coronavirus and all of that. At the same time, the last resident of the house made her entrance.

Y/n sometimes envied her. Matty’s girlfriend always looked immaculate to a point that you could never think she just woke up. Y/n knew comparisons were wrong, but it was hard to avoid them. The girl felt awful: her hair was all tangled in a messy bun on the top of her head; only wearing an old t-shirt -from a not so famous band--and a pair of pyjamas short; and she was not wearing any makeup meanwhile she stuffed her breakfast on her face.

Nadia was all classy and perfect, the opposite of Y/n. Maybe that’s why he chose her and not his best friend. Y/n knew thinking like that was also wrong, yet again she couldn’t help it.

Y/n witnessed how Nadia greeted everyone and sat beside Matty, flashing him a cute smile he returned. They were in love, and it was obvious to everyone. Y/n was so happy for her best friend to find someone who loved him, although for many years she hoped that person would be her. For years, Y/n hoped Matty noticed her more than a mate.

When they first met, Y/n thought she felt a connection different from with anyone else in her life, although that changed quickly. Matty proved to her time and time again he didn’t want a relationship with her or nothing similar no matter how flirty he was during that first night. And Y/n forced herself her mind and heart to believe it.

Y/n was very unaware that, at the time she met the boys, Matty felt the same way she felt, but the old Matty didn’t want to lose the new friend he encountered. As another way to self sabotage himself, the young Matty did almost the impossible to show Y/n they were friends and just friends. A decision he took while being drunk became a life rule.

Since that moment, since that night, their relationship was kind of determinate. They were friends, the best friends. Not that night, but after a while, Y/n became part of the family and even Matty’s family –both sides– loved her as another member of their family. Y/n felt safe and loved, something she cherished so much since she hadn’t had that kind of love back home. Her family wasn’t like them, the opposite in fact.

For the longest time, Y/n tried to ditch her feeling for Matty. Every time a new girl showed up, tugged under his arm, Y/n decided it was the time to stop getting hurt and move on. Even though, her heart couldn’t do it. It hurt her. And with Nadia was the hardest since all of them could notice it was different, more mature…more serious. Nadia was more than a random girl for Matty and everyone was sure of that.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Matty interrupted Y/n’s inner monologue, staring at her, while his right arm was around Nadia.

“What?” Y/n answered, coming down to earth, with a question.

“You were gone.” everyone was strangely in silence while they looked at each other.

“I was just thinking about the government lifting the restrictions. Meaning, now I can go home.” she half lied, while messing with the leftovers of her breakfast. Y/n did chat about it with G that morning anyway, and it was a reality Y/n needed to get away from the lovers for a time.

“I told her, none of us want that.” George interrupted their conversation.

“Of course not.” Jaime, who joined the breakfast table, said to her.

“I know, guys. But it’s been almost four months and I- This is not my- “

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Matty warned her, and she looked him directly in the eyes.

“It’s the truth, Matty.” she said, dropping her fork on the plate.

“It’s not, this is your house too, Y/n/n.” Ross, sweet Ross, reminded her. “At the same time, if you want to go back to your flat, I understand. We’ll miss your meals.” his comment made everyone chucked, except Matty who was studying every one of her movements.

A weak smile was plastered on her face while she stared down towards her plate unable to make eye contact with Matty. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being here with you guys, but I need my space.”

“If this is about some couple…” Jaime looked at Matty and Nadia “Waking up the whole house.” he finished the sentenced winking like a cartoon.

“For fuck's sake.” Matty swore under his breath. “Is it about that?” he looked at Y/n.

“‘Course not!” she looked at him trying her hardest to hide her feelings.

“I wouldn’t blame you if that’s the reason. I’m sleeping on the other side of the house and I can listen to them. You’re right beside Matty’s room!” John emphatically said.

Before Matty could say a word, Y/n exclaimed, “It’s not about that, okay?” she simply lied.

Y/n could sense George staring at her. “It’s what I said, I need my space, and it’s not like I’m going to disappear.” another white lie. Y/n was planning to do exactly that for a while until her wounds healed again. “You’ll still have to bear with me.” she finished her little speech.

“We can simply send the couple to your flat, and you can stay here in peace” Ross joked this time. All of them except for Matty laughed again.

“Stop with that, he will get angry.” Y/n defended Matty.

“I know it’s not my house either,” Nadia started saying. “If I can say something, I would like you to stay, Y/n.” she continued rather shyly. “It’s nice to have a girl around.” Of course, she was so nice. “I promised we’ll keep it down.” she looked quickly at Matty for reassurance and then again at her.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry you’ll have to survive with these boys, but I really need to go.” Y/n explained. “Another reason is the fact that I have to prepare to get back to work soon.”

“So, when did you start thinking about leaving? Since you apparently have a lot of reasons to leave.” Matty said with a strange expression on his face.

“Matty-”

“Are you that eager to leave?” ‘He was pissed?’, Y/n thought.

“Matty- “she protested, not knowing what else to say.

“No, it’s okay. I get it! You want to leave, it’s okay.” he stood up from his seat gathering the plates to wash them.

“Matty!” Y/n said again.

“It’s fine, Y/n!” he said more sternly, obviously not fine with the situation.

The rest of the group –included Nadia–, took that as a cue to leave the friends so they could talk. They made stupid excuses, leaving Matty and Y/n alone in the kitchen.

Matty went to the sink, beginning to wash the dishes. After letting a big breath out, Y/n stood up approaching where he was standing.

“Why are you so angry?” she asked him, folding her arms, standing beside Matty looking at his profile. Matty was stroking the plates with more force than needed for the task in hand.

“I’m not. I said that I got it, and it’s fine.” he answered.

“You’re obviously not fine, Matthew.”

“Do you want to know how am I? Perfect.” he stated, turning the water off and drying his hand with a cloth while he turned to look at her. “I really don’t get it why you want to leave so suddenly.”

“It’s not that I want to- “another big lie. She wanted to, she needed to.

“Bullshit!”

Y/n tried to defend herself, “I’m not going to disappear…”

“Bullshit!”

“Can you stop that?” Y/n stood directly in front of Matty.

“I know you’re going to disappear. I know you. We’re best friends and something is bothering you, I can tell. It hurts that you’re not telling me anything and I fucking bet you told George already.” She couldn’t tell him the truth.

“Is this more about that competition?” Y/n tried to distract him.

“Yes- No- Of course, not- This is about you and me.” Matty said, melting her heart a little. He was obviously troubled with the idea of Y/n leaving.

“Matty, there is nothing…mayor going on. Trust me. I need silence. You said it, you know me. I crave my space…alone.” she told him sweeter this time.

“Yes, I know. But you can find somewhere here-“

“You know that’s a lie.” ‘What a hypocrite I am’, Y/n thought.

“I know.”

“You aren’t gonna miss me. You have the boy and Nadia- “she moved uncomfortably in her place.

“It’s not the same, you’re my best friend. I’ll miss you, darling.” Matty looked at her with his best doggy eyes.

“Don’t!” Y/n pointed a finger at him.

“What?” he played dumb.

“Don’t give me puppy eyes, it won’t work.” she smiled this time.

“Shit, are you so certain about it?” he looked down, defeated.

“Yes.” Y/n simply said.

“Okay, I understand. You can go.”

“Thanks for your permission that I didn’t ask for.” Y/n tried to joke.

“But- “ he ignored her.

“But?”

“But promise me that you are not going to disappear for too long.” he said, staring directly into her eyes.

“I promise.” Y/n said way too quickly. After a couple of seconds, she had to look elsewhere.

“Can we hug?” he said very slowly.

Y/n chuckled, placing her arms around his shoulders, at the same time Matty placed his on her waist.

“I love you.” Matty mumbled on her left shoulder.

“I love you too, Matty.” Y/n said, feeling it from the deepest of her heart. There lied the difference.

Maybe, she couldn’t love anyone like she loved Matty, even though she had to try for the good of their relationship.

-------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @hollybrislen

#matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty the 1975 #matty x you #matty x y/n #matty fanfic #friends to lovers #matty healy #the 1975 #Seasons #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction

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topguncortez · 1 year

Text

Merry Christmas, Baby(ies)

pairing: Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey ➳synopsis: Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, The Seresins were preparing for a birth to announce ➳warnings: pregnancy, child birth, c-sections, a little bit of trauma, Jake's family, a dash of angst. ➳Word count: 5.5k Opposites Attract Masterlist | Hangman Masterlist

➳ note: no, this isn't the fourth installment of the Opposites Attract world, I am still working on that (cause idk where I wanna go with it) but MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMALS:)

Since Jake was little, he had always loved Christmas. His mother always went all out, pulling out the boxes of decorations the second the last plate from thanksgiving was clean and put away. She would spend the next week decorating the house from head to toe. Garland, pine cones, lights, candy canes, and Christmas trees covered the house. Each room had its own sort of decorative vibe to it, and had its own box that went with it. Jake’s four older sisters could care less about decorating, but Jake was a momma’s boy and would spend hours helping his mom hang ornaments on trees.

That same love for Christmas followed Jake throughout his teenage years and even to adulthood. His first deployment was over Christmas and he somehow managed to get a small Christmas tree on board and set it up in his room. He could remember his first Christmas with Y/N, and fell even more in love with realizing that she too, had the same love for Christmas. They went all out buying their own Christmas tree, and setting up their own Christmas traditions. Their Christmases seemed to get even better when they had kids.

This year though, instead of going to Texas like they usually did, Y/N had invited Jake’s parents and sisters to San Diego for Christmas Eve. However, Jake didn’t know that was Y/N’s plan and had already invited the Dagger Squad over for Christmas Eve as well. It sent Y/N into a bit of a panic as she looked down at her eight month swollen belly, but she put on a bright smile and said:

“The more the merrier!”

But now, she was slowly regretting saying that, as she looked at the house full of guests. Jolene and George had arrived on December 22nd, because Jolene wanted to help get groceries and wrap gifts for her grandkids. George would have cared less about being there so early. The next to arrive was Jake’s sister Andrea, and her husband Kyle and their kids, and Jessica and her partner Emily showed up on the 23rd, staying in an AirBnB near Jake and Y/N’s house.

“I thought it wasn’t supposed to be this hot,” Y/N groaned as she sat down on the back patio watching the kids play with their cousins.

“It’s not even that hot,” Jake’s twin sister, Hillary said. Hillary and Y/N hardly got along, but Y/N tried to remain civil towards her.

“Do you need anything, sweetheart?” Jolene asked, walking out to the backyard. Part of the reason why Hillary didn’t like Y/N was because she got along somewhat well with Jolene. Jolene was almost exactly how the song described; red hair teased to the high heavens, pale skin, and electric green eyes just like Jake’s. Y/N was surprised that at least one of her kids didn’t have red hair.

“I’m good, thank you, Mrs. Seresin,” Y/N smiled.

“Oh baby, you have carried five of my grandbabies now,” Jolene smiled, “You can call me Jolene.”

Y/N blushed and nodded as Eli ran up to her and climbed on the couch. He cuddled into her, pressing his face into her bump. She smiled and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair.

“What have you been doing, baby?” Y/N asked her youngest, as of right now, son.

“I gotta take a break,” He sighed and flopped his arms out dramatically, “Can’t keep up with Alex and Tyler and Ella and Derek and Joanie and-”

“Hard being the youngest, isn’t it,” Andrea, Jake’s eldest sister said, “Tyler and Joanie aren’t being mean are they?”

“No Auntie Drea,” Eli shook his head, “My legs just little.” Y/N giggled and Eli climbed back off the couch and ran towards his cousins.

“Gosh he reminds me of Jake,” Jessica said and sat down next to Y/N, “What about these two? Who do you think they’ll be like?” Jessica placed her hand gently on Y/N’s bump.

“Maybe if she found out the gender,” Hillary mumbled and sipped her wine.

Y/N brushed off her comment, “I think they’ll be like Jake. I think they all take after Jake in some way.”

“Especially Ella!” Andrea shook her head with a laugh, “That girl reminds me so much of him. She even has his little half smile. And those dimples! Gosh, they are twins.”

“Gossiping about me?” It was as if Jake had heard them say his name and he leaned over the couch. He placed a kiss on the top of his wife’s head, “How are things?”

“She’s been complaining about the heat,” Hillary rolled her eyes.

“You would be too if you were carrying twins and ready to pop,” Jessica said defending Y/N, “Besides, momma deserves to be comfortable. Can’t imagine what it feels like having your house bombarded like this during the final weeks.”

“It’s because she’s a trooper,” Jake came around the couch and sat down next to his wife. He put one arm around her and his hand went to her bump. He rubbed it gently and bent down to place a kiss on it.

“How is fixing up the nursery with dad?” Andrea asked and Jake sighed.

Over the years, Jake had slowly started to patch up the rocky relationship he had with his father. After the birth of Eli, Jake had realized that George had hardly ever wanted to see his grandkids or talk to them, and it hurt Jake. His sisters told him that it wasn’t just Jake’s kids that George didn’t gel well with, it was all his grandkids, but Jake didn’t see it that way. George was always so kind and caring when it came to his sister’s kids, but was kind of cold when it came to Jake’s brood. So, Jake sat down with him and talked to him about how it hurt him and George had apologized.

“Trying to tell me how to put a crib together, like I haven’t put together three in the past ten years,” Jake rolled his eyes, “It’s fine. He’s inside, probably complaining about me to mom. Which, I don’t care about anymore.”

“Well that certainly changed,” Hillary mumbled. And Jake glared at her, “What? You used to care so much about Dad’s opinion and approval of you. Everything changed when you met. . .”

Y/N shifted in her spot and looked down at the tea mug in her hands. Jake clenched his jaw and pulled Y/N in closer to him. He knew of Hilliary’s dislike for Y/N and couldn’t figure out why. All Hilliary ever said was Y/N was just too different than Jake, and it would never work. Jake thought it was maybe because she wasn’t at his wedding. But then again, no one was really at the wedding since they just did it on a whim. His mother and other sisters were a bit upset about it, but they forgave him for it seeing how in love Y/N and Jake were.

“This has nothing to do with Y/N,” Jake said, “I’m too old to be begging Dad for his approval. It’s his loss for being a jerk and not wanting to get to know his grandkids.”

“It is, Jake, and I’m sorry that he’s being like that,” Andrea said sincerely, “He’ll come around someday. Maybe once he has another heart attack.”

“That’ll be the damn day,” Jessica laughed, “I’ve been with Emily for over fifteen years and he still asks about how we’ve had kids.”

“Science has not caught up to the old man,” Jake shook his head.

“He’s still ordering things from infomercials. . . you think he’s understanding how in vitro fertilization works,” Andrea added and all four Seresin kids broke out in laughter.

— — —

“I don’t want to wear tights!” Ella pouted and Y/N sighed.

It was Christmas Eve and the house was already filled with members from the Dagger squad. Bob was the first to arrive like always, this time dragging along his girlfriend Maggie. He was bringing her over for the first time, and thought a perfect time to meet the whole Dagger Squad would be at Christmas. Christmas with nine aviators and their families was an interesting event. Every year they got too drunk off of Fireball and spiked Eggnog. Everyone knew that Christmas was a make or break, those who could hang with the squad got to stay.

Jake was already down stairs with the boys, being the best host like his mother taught him to be. He was mixing drinks and creating laughs at the built in bar that he so badly had to have in the house. Jolene was getting along great with Penny, Y/N’s mom Clara and Sarah Kazansky (who Jake and Y/N always invited her and her kids to Christmas).

“Ella, you have to wear tights with your Christmas dress,” Y/N tried again to get her six year old to put her white tights on. She wanted to try and cover the large scrapes on her knees from falling off her skateboard last week, but Rooster told her she looked cool and now she was against covering them up.

“No!” Ella crossed her arms over her chest.

“Fine then, I’ll tell Santa no gifts.”

“Santa’s not real. Uncle Fanboy told me last week.”

“Dammit,” Y/N mumbled under her breath and made a mental note to talk to Fanboy about ruining kids' dreams, “Please. Put your tights on.”

Ella shook her head again and Y/N gave up on trying to put tights on her, knowing that this battle was one she was not going to win. Y/N waddled down the stairs slowly as Ella ran up to her dad, Uncle Rooster and Fanboy. Jake picked up the girl and spun her around in a circle. Rooster couldn’t help but chuckle at the exposed scrapes on her knees.

“Wasn’t winning the tight argument?” Jake asked as Y/N made her way to the kitchen.

“No, and I’m not fighting with her anymore. Even pulled the Santa card, but someone,” Y/N looked at Fanboy, ''said he’s not R-E-A-L.”

Fanboy whistled as he picked up his drink and got off his barstool, going to both Payback and Stella. Jake chuckled and set Ella down to go run off with her cousins and friends. He moved to stand behind Y/N, running his hands over her very tight bump and frowned.

“Are you having contractions?”

“No,” Y/N said, “It’s been like this all day. And my back is killing me. I put the band on to try and help but it’s not.”

“Maybe it’s back labor,” Rooster said, casually sipping his drink. Y/N glared at him, “Hey! Remember the last time you said you weren’t in labor?? Yeah, Floyd ended up catching that crotch goblin.” As if he knew he was being talked about, Eli ran by with a can of whipped cream in his hand.

“Who the hell gave him that,” Jake said, and went to chase after the three year old. Y/N looked up to see Javy and Payback with smirks on their faces.

“I’m not in labor. I still have three weeks to go,” Y/N said and grabbed a glass of lemonade, “This isn’t like last time and I am not about to ruin Jesus’s birthday by having twins.”

“Would beat the bible story,” Rooster smiled and Y/N rolled her eyes. She walked towards the living room where some of the other women were. She sat down next to her mom, who was deep in conversation with Penny and Jolene about something. Dragon was sitting on the other side of her and tapped her arm.

“What’s with Ella’s knees?” The Trace girl asked.

“Her and Alex were seeing who could go down the hill at the park the fastest. Ella took a tumble and now refuses to wear tights,” Y/N said and Dragon stifled a laugh.

“God she’s like Bagman.”

“You didn’t tell them it was dangerous?” Hilliary asked and Jolene scolded her, “What? Ella could’ve gotten seriously hurt. I mean, Eli just had a cast on his arm like two weeks ago.”

“They’re kids,” Jolene said, “Kids get hurt. They break bones in the morning and are running in the afternoon.”

“Oh boy do they. One time Y/N was. . .” Clara fell into a story about how Y/N and her brother Thomas got into a scooter race around their cul-de-sac and crashed into each other, resulting in both breaking their wrists.

The rest of the night went along without a hitch. Jake and George had spent all day cooking up two turkeys and a ham for dinner. Jolene, Andrea, and Jessica cooked most of the sides. Y/N tried to help, but Jolene had told her to sit and watch, not wanting her to do anything too strenuous. Even though they had cooked tons of food, people still brought dishes to share. Y/N was slightly overwhelmed by the amounts of food on her kitchen counters. But she knew how the Dagger Squad was, and knew that almost every single thing would be gone and they would happily take leftovers home.

Jake had gotten the kids plates and set them at their own table off to the side of the main dining room. That was one thing that Jake had added when he built the house. He had put in a big main dining room that would then open up to a smaller dining room so for dinners like this, the kids weren’t completely shunned to another room and out of sight. He hated that growing up, how the kids were always in another part of the house, out of sight out of mind. Javy, Payback and their wives also liked the idea so they could see their children as well.

Y/N let out a slow breath as she pushed the green beans around her plate and rolled her shoulders back. The pain in her lower back was gradually getting worse, and she tried to push through it with no complaint. Jake had been watching her the whole night, seeing as she asked her mother several times to rub her back for her. He knew that this was probably the early stages of labor, but Y/N was stubborn. Hell, everyone knew how stubborn she was, the birth of Eli Seresin proved that.

“Babe,” Jake whispered over to her, putting his hand on her thigh, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Y/N said, her voice shaky.

“Are you sure? Are you having contractions?”

“No,” Y/N said, and squeezed his hand, “I promise, I’m not having any contractions.” Jake nodded and leaned over to kiss his wife. She giggled into the kiss, and pulled him in close.

“Really?” They broke apart, both looking like two teens that had just gotten caught by their parents, but in reality it was just Hilliary giving Y/N a glare, “Is that how you got into that situation?”

Y/N looked down at her swollen belly, and ran her hand over it. Jake had had enough of his sister’s sly comments towards Y/N for the past few days. He knew how much the things Hilliary said bothered Y/N. He had spent one too many nights comforting her while she cried and asked why his twin sister hated her. He respected Y/N’s wishes on not confronting his sister, but between his dad being on him for different things and seeing his wife cower under his sister’s glare, Jake had enough.

“What is your problem?” Jake asked and Y/N felt her heartbeat start to rise. She felt all eyes snap to both of them as Hilliary looked like a deer in the headlights, “You’ve been a bitch this whole time.”

“Jacob!” Jolene scolded.

“He’s not wrong,” Andrea mumbled, taking a sip of her wine.

“I haven’t done anything to her,” Hillary pointed out, “Just pointing out that not everyone wants to see you two making out at the dinner table.”

“That was hardly making out,” Jake scoffed, and rolled his eyes, “God, Hillary! You’ve not had a single nice thing to say about Y/N since you met her! She’s been nothing but nice to you!” Jake yelled.

“I don’t have to be nice to her!” Hillary yelled, “She hasn’t done anything but stay at home, shoot out kids, and munch off of our-”

“Oh,” Y/N gasped as she felt a sudden rush of warmth between her legs. She looked down at her chair and then back up at Jake who’s jaw dropped. Clara was thankfully sitting next to Y/N, and grabbed a napkin off the table to try and cover up the wet spot on her dress. Rooster and Bob stood up from their spots and ran over to the other side of the table.

“Fucking great,” Hillary grumbled, “And now she’s turned Christmas all about-”

“Would you shut up for a damn second!” Dragon yelled at the Seresin girl, “Are you okay?”

“Sweets,” Jake said, and grabbed his wife’s hand.

“It’s early,” She looked at him frightened, “Oh god.”

“I’ll get the car!” George spoke up, and Jake and Jolene both looked at him in shock. George Seresin never had anything to do with his childrens’ birth. In fact, Jolene didn’t have him in the room during a single one of her four kids’ births. He sat in the waiting room until it was over.

“Her bag is upstairs by the-”

“I got it!” Jessica said, and ran towards the Seresin bedroom.

“Val, Maggie, help me take the kids down stairs,” Stella said, standing up from her chair and over to where the kids had noticed the commotion at. There were little sounds of protest as the women corralled the kids down to the basement, but the second that Fanboy stood up and said that Santa was on his way, they all cheered and followed him to the basement.

“What do you need?” Jake asked his wife, as Rooster rubbed her shoulders as she started to feel contractions.

“I’d like to change my clothes,” Y/N let out a breath, “But I want to get to the hospital first.”

“Are you gonna shoot out these two on the floor like Eli?” Rooster asked and Y/N glared at him, “Hey, I just want to be prepared in case I gotta catch a kid again.”

“You didn’t even catch the last one,” Bob said and Y/N let out a groan.

“Dad’s out front with the car,” Jessica said, walking back into the dining room, handing Jake the go-bag, “We’ll stay here and put the kids to bed and everything.”

“Thank you,” Jake said, and helped Y/N to her feet.

“Oh, they're gonna hate us,” Y/N groaned, “We won’t be here to open gifts.”

“I will record it,” Andrea said, “And Kyle promised to dress up as S-A-N-T-A. They will be distracted. Now, go have these babies.” Andrea kissed Y/N’s cheek and then hugged her brother.

Hillary was standing in the corner of the room as she walked Jake carefully guiding his laboring wife to the car. She never thought that the argument was going to lead to her water breaking and that fact that her nieces or nephews were going to be born early. Hillary let out a gasp as she covered her mouth with her hand. She knew the dangers of having babies early, she was a nurse for christ sake, and she knew the dangers of having twins early. Hillary somehow found it in her to run after Jake and Y/N, catching a glimpse as Rooster shut the car door and George pulled out of the driveway.

— — —

Y/N let out a small scream as she braced her hands on the bed, swaying back and forth gently as she worked through a contraction. Clara was rubbing her back, and Jake was holding her hair back in case she were to get sick again. Y/N was used to contractions and going through labor without pain meds. She had Eli on her bedroom floor, totally unmedicated. But these contractions were the worst she had ever felt and she was waiting until she could get her epidural.

They had been in the hospital for a little over four hours, and it was officially Christmas Morning. Andrea had sent Jake a picture showing the three older Seresin kids were asleep in Jake and Y/N’s bed. Jake had also sent an apology to the Dagger Squad group chat, but they were all more excited to find out if they were welcoming two boys, two girls or one of each into the family. Jolene and George were sitting in the waiting room, both of them not wanting to leave their son and his wife, both too excited to meet their grandchildren.

“God it hurts so much,” Y/N cried and Jake looked over at the contraction monitor, “Momma.”

“It’s almost over,” Clara said, rubbing her daughter’s back. She had been there twice before to see her give birth and it never got easier to see her daughter in pain.

“Jake, can you find the doctor?” Y/N asked and Jake nodded, running to the nurses station, “Where’s dad?”

“Getting more ice chips,” Clara answered, and Y/N started to move to sit back down on the medicine ball. Clara grabbed a hair tie off her wrist and tied Y/N’s hair up in a bun, “Do you need water?”

“I need a fucking epidural,” Y/N groaned as Jake walked back in, the anesthesiologist and their main nurse, Vera, behind him, “Thank god!” Jake laughed as the nurse handed Y/N the paperwork and the anesthesiologist walked her through the steps of the epidural. Even though Y/N was having twins, she still wanted to do a vaginal birth, and both her midwife and OB agreed to make that happen the best that they could.

“We’re going to get you positioned on the bed,” The anesthesiologist said. Jake, and Clara helped Y/N sit on the side of the bed, Jake standing between her legs like he had done for the first two kids. He ran his dull fingers over her hair, scratching at her scalp lightly. Clara stepped out in the hallway, giving them some privacy as James rounded the corner.

“Babies time?” James asked and Clara shook her head.

“Getting drugs,” Clara said, “You know. . . these are our last grandchildren.”

“I have faith in Carson to stop being an idiot,” James said, putting his arm around his wife, “Until then, yes, these are our last grandbabies.” Clara laughed and James kissed her forehead.

“Deep breath, Y/N,” The doctor said and Y/N sucked in a breath and squeezed Jake’s hands as the needle went into her back. She felt that same warm sensation she had felt before and let out the breath she was holding. Jake kissed her forehead, and whispered words of encouragement as they got ready to place the epidural needle in.

Y/N closed her eyes as she felt the needle prick her skin. Jake held her hands tightly as Y/N let out a slow breath through pursed lips, and counted down the seconds until it was over. She felt her body relax a bit as the needle was removed from her skin.

“All done, you should feel it start to set in soon,” The doctor said, and Jake helped Y/N lay down on her side in bed.

“Need anything else, Y/N?” Nurse Vera asked and Y/N shook her head, “You’re dilating at a good rate. Going to have some Christmas Babies.”

“Yay,” Y/N said, giving her a smile. Jake squeezed her ankle, and rubbed her calf.

— — —

It was about fifteen minutes later that Y/N started to feel weird. Jake had gone to the bathroom, leaving Y/N alone momentarily. She blinked her eyes a couple times, feeling her head start to swim and her hands tingle. Something was wrong, something was very, very wrong.

“Jake?” Y/N called out to him, and tried to pull herself out of bed, but was too weak to even raise her arm up. Jake had just walked out of the bathroom, and his eyes went wide. Her color was gone, and he could see a thin layer of sweat all over her body.

“Sweets, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“I-I-” Y/N felt out of breath as she tried to reach for Jake but couldn’t even move an inch. Jake reached for the call button, pressing it rapidly. He cursed, and ran for the door, going to the nurses station.

“Something is wrong with my wife,” Jake rushed out in a panic. The nurses at the desk quickly got up and followed him into Y/N’s room, as alarms started going off.

“Baby B is in distress,” Nurse Vera said.

“Her heart rate has dropped,” Beverly, Y/N’s midwife said, “We need to move. Call up to an OR.” Beverly hit a button above Y/N’s bed, and a swarm of nurses and doctors came in, pushing Jake out of the way to get to Y/N.

“Jake!” Y/N called out to him. Nurse Vera grabbed the oxygen mask from the wall, and put it on Y/N’s face. Other nurses and techs got Y/N’s hospital bed ready to move towards the operating room. Jake tried to get close to her, but another nurse pushed him towards the back of the room.

“Ready to move,” A tech said and Beverly nodded. Y/N looked around the room, her vision becoming blurry both from tears and from the blood rushing out of her head. She tried to reach her hand out towards Jake.

“Jake!” She yelled a little bit loud.

“You’re okay! Just breathe! I’ll be right there!” Jake called out to his wife. Y/N kept her hands on her belly protectively as they took her right down to the operating room. He tried to follow them out into the hallway but he was stopped, “Get your damn hands off of me, and let me go with.”

“You can’t go with her, I’m sorry,” A nurse said, “You need to go wait in the waiting room.”

“The fuck I am!” Jake yelled as Clara and James ran around the corner.

“What’s going on?!” Clara asked, “Where did they take her?!” If there was one person no one wanted to piss off it would be Clara Y/L/N.

“Your daughter’s heart rate dropped and the twins went into distress,” The nurse explained, “She’s being taken back into an emergency c-section. We will update you when we can. But I’m sorry, you can’t go back with her.” The nurse turned on their heel and went towards the direction they took Y/N without any further explanation. Jake ran his hands through his hair and pulled at the ends of his blonde locks. Clara let out a soft sob as James pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead.

“Let’s go wait,” James said, and put a hand on Jake’s shoulder.

James had slowly become more of a father figure in his life than his own father ever had. He always knew what to say, and gave Jake comfort in moments like this. Jake nodded and wiped a tear from his cheek, as he followed his in-laws out into the lobby. Jake’s own parents had left to go and help Andrea prepare things for Christmas morning. He sat down in an uncomfortable leather chair with a sigh.

Jake looked around the waiting room and saw that it was pretty much empty except for a few people. Most people were probably asleep in their beds, holding onto their loved ones as they prepared for an exciting Christmas Morning of opening gifts and spending it with their families. Jake’s lip quivered as he thought about his family. How his wife was all alone and vulnerable, being cut open and having their last babies delivered. He wanted nothing more than to be laying in bed, surrounded by his five kids and his wife in matching Christmas pajamas that were way too hot for anyone to stay in for too long.

Jake put his arm on the armrest of the chair, and leaned his head on his fist. He knew this was going to take awhile, so he thought he might as well get comfortable and wait. He slowly fell asleep, and dreams of future Christmases with his family filled his mind.

— — —

Y/N sucked in a deep breath, well as deep as she could take, as she started to wake up. She wasn’t sure what had happened and everything was a blur. The lights were bright and she kept her eyes closed, as she tried to sit up, but let out a loud groan. It felt like she had done about a million crunches, and her hands went to her belly, finding that where her bump once was, was now a large scar. Tears started to fill her eyes as she tried to fill in the blanks on what had happened.

“Sweets?” Jake called out softly, his hand going into hers. Her eyes opened and she looked at Jake, “What’s wrong?”

“Where are my babies?” Y/N whimpered out.

“They’re okay,” Jake said, running a hand over her hair. She looked better than she did when they whisked her away. Her color was somewhat back, and her eyes looked more alive. She tried to push herself up again, but Jake gently pushed her back down on the bed. He took the remote for the bed, and sat her up a bit. She whispered out a thanks, and then pointed towards the water cup on the table in front of her. Jake grabbed it and helped her sip from the straw.

She gently pushed the cup away from her, “What happened?”

“Your heart rate dropped,” Jake said, “And it caused the boys to go into distress. They took you for an emergency c-section. Everything went okay, they are resting down in the NICU.”

“Boys?” Y/N quipped, “I have two boys? We have two boys?”

“We had two boys,” Jake smiled and Y/N returned it with one of her own. He leaned forward and kissed his wife, “I’ll go get Nurse Vera so you can go see them.” Y/N nodded and Jake went to go find the nurse.

It was the most painful experience ever, getting from the bed to a wheelchair so she could go see her newborn twins. Jake pushed her down the hallway, going ever so slowly to not hit anything that would jostle Y/N’s body. Clara and James were currently in the NICU nursery, making sure that somewhere was there for each of the twins. They had let Jolene and George know that they had two more grandsons to add to their family.

“Alright, you ready?” Nurse Vera asked as Jake wheeled Y/N up to the door of the nursery, “We’re going to have you guys do skin to skin, each of you will take a twin, and then switch. We want you to try and see if they will latch.”

Y/N nodded and Jake pushed the chair into the room. She gasped seeing the two incubators in the otherwise bare room. There was a rocking chair in the middle of them.

“Do you want to sit in the rocking chair?” Vera asked and Y/N shook her head, “That’s alright. We will start with baby A.” Vera put on a gown, gloves and a mask. Jake stood behind Y/N’s chair and watched as Vera carefully took the newborn out of the incubator, “He is four pounds seven ounces, and eighteen point four inches. He’s your little one. Jake, I'm going to have you untie the back of Y/N’s gown and pull it down slightly, exposing her chest.”

Jake nodded and did what Vera instructed. Y/N felt a bit vulnerable, but then Vera placed the baby against her chest, and Y/N felt tears in her eyes. Vera draped a blanket over Y/N and the baby, to keep them both warm. Jake gently caressed her shoulder and looked down at his son. He could tell that he had her nose but his green eyes, and Jake could see the faintest color of red in his hair.

“Maxwell,” Y/N said and looked up at Jake, “Maxwell Glen Seresin.”

“I love it,” Jake said, and kissed the top of her head.

“Alright Jake, take a seat in the rocker please, and strip the shirt off,” Vera said and Jake sat down in the rocker and took his shirt off, “This is Baby B. He is five pounds ten ounces, and nineteen point two inches long.” Vera placed the baby against Jake’s chest. Jake immediately tilted his head down to sniff the top of the newborn's head. His heart clenched a bit, realizing that this was the last time he’d ever get that newborn baby smell.

“Jasper Thomas,” Jake said looking at his wife, “What do you think?”

“I like it,” Y/N said, rubbing her son’s back, “Jasper and Maxwell,” She sighed and looked at Jake, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Jake smiled, and then looked down at his son asleep on his chest, “This is the best Christmas ever.”

808 notes · View notes

ghostofscarley · 2 years

Text

Enchanted

Fred Weasley x Reader

Inspired by the movie 'Enchanted'

Taglist: @wolfstardaughter-jj @dayangestre @cobrakaisb @emso12 @wixabear @robincantfunction @lilyswh0re @dracosluvbot

word count: 8.7k

"you're practically gaping at her mate, subtle much," fred muttered as he glanced at harry who was staring at the fifth year ravenclaw, cho chang, mindlessly as she giggled with her friends, "so much for wanting to keep my lunch down. mate, before you lose anymore pumpkin juice, you'd have more luck going over and talking to her-"

"oh, leave him alone fred," rolling her eyes, y/n gave back the rolled up newspaper to a glaring hermione granger after having smacked the ginger boy on the back of his head, "he is however, miraculously, right in a sorts though harry. you really should talk to her."

"ugh! look at this! i don't believe it, she's done it again. miss granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards. her latest prey, sources report, is none other than the bulgarian bon-bon viktor krum. no word yet on how harry potter's taking this latest emotional blow," glaring now at the newspaper article, hermione slams it onto the table, almost knocking over her own goblet of pumpkin juice in the process, "i mean who does she think she is? i can tell you right now, harry seems to be doing just fine."

shaking his head, as if he had been in a trance, harry looked towards his fury-filled friends is confusion

"i wouldn't mind her, mione. you know how that hag of a woman is," shaking her head at the clueless chosen one before turning to in a sympathetic manner to comfort her bushy-haired friend, "the lengths she'd go and the people she'd shine a false light on for the sake of fame and attention. such a bitch."

groaning, fred slid over to his best friend, not so subtly stretching an arm around her shoulder, pulling the girl closer, and unbeknownst to the ginger, causing a certain hue of rosy red to spread across the said girl's cheeks

"such a dirty mouth. to what do i owe the honours of being allowed to be within the presence of that mouth?" winking with a sly grin, blowing a single strand out of his eyes and angling his head to get a better look at the girl, he asks, "is the one and only y/n y/l/n blushing because of little, ol' frederick weasley? you flatter me."

huffing, y/n shrugged off the older twins arm that was draped across her shoulders, sending a scowl his way as she crossed her arms

"you wish freddie, and don't say shit like that. weirdo."

"well maybe if someone stopped swearing then-"

"i'm not wearing that, it's ghastly."

hearing this, both y/n and fred looked over to the two youngest weasleys, one of which were holding what looked like old rags of spare lace sewn together, before hermione laughed

"they're not for ginny. they're for you! dress robes."

upon saying this, the friend group all broke into laughter whilst ron's face fell

"dress robes? for what?"

to this, y/n and fred, having calmed down from the fits of laughter at the situation for the younger weasley male, turned to each other, a look of confusion now adorning their faces

"the yule ball has been a tradition of the triwizard tournament since its inception. on christmas eve night we and our guests gather in the great hall for well mannered frivolity. as representitives of the host school i expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward, and i mean this literally because the yule ball is first and foremost... a dance." groans emerge from the boys who are listening on. the girls seem a lot more excited, "silence. the house of godric gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. i will not have you in the course of a single evening besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons."

y/n sent a quick glance to where harry, fred and george were standing only to see the twins murmuring to themselves and thus she shook her head, knowing that it was nothing serious before focusing back on mcgonagall

"now to dance is to let the body breathe. inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers longing to burst forth and take flight and inside," upon hearing whispers, she turns to glare at ron, "every boy a lordly lion prepared to prance, mr weasley, will you join me? now, place your right hand on my waist."

embarrassed and a little befuddled, ron almost mutters

"where?"

impatient, the woman moves to correct the placement of ron's very much awkward placing of his arm

"my waist," the woman states firmly, before the music starts up and the professors leads them into a waltz, inviting others to join

upon the invitation, the girls rushed to stand, only for the boys to remain seated, awkward, some even scratching at the back of their necks

with a smirk, fred walks over to y/n, who had previously been in a conversation with her friend and fellow quidditch team mate, katie bell, when she saw an approaching body out of the corner of her eye, before turning to see fred offering his hand out to her

"if you will, m'lady."

nudging the girl with a giggle, katie pushed her friend out of her seating position and into the arms of the cheeky ginger, winking at the girl before turning to find her own partner

"real smooth, weasley," she stated, placing one hand into his before raising her other arm to rest it on his, "'m'lady', huh? that's a new one. what book did you stumble upon to get that one? oh who am i kidding, you'd never pick up a book. willingly."

"oh ha ha, you're so funny. much laughter. such a comedian," the hand that rested on her waist began to poke slightly at her after her cheeky comment, twirling her and bringing her back into his chest now, "i'll have you know that i didn't find it. i just heard it was all. in one of those silly muggle movies that you love."

"they are not silly," she scoffed, moving her hand to slap the back of his head only for him to grab it and keep a firm grasp on it instead, the familiar heat spreading across her face, "they are romantic. not that you'd know."

"what's that supposed to mean? i'm so romantic i'd knock your socks off with how chivalrous and charming i am."

the girl couldn't keep a straight face at what the boy had said, immediately breaking out into a boisterous cackle which attracted many fellow gryffindors though the girl didn't care. the boy didn't either, a small smile then growing rather large at the sound

"oh freddie, now who's the comedian?" sighing, she moved, well tried, to rest her right cheek on his shoulder, which was now hunched to aid her due to the distinct height difference, "i can't wait. i mean, an actual ball, are you kidding? hogwarts is already magical on its own. can you imagine how wondrous it'll be?"

"oh, do you already have someone in mind as to who you'll take? my, my. and whom is it that has piqued y/n y/l/n's interest?" he nudged at her, wiggling his eyebrows as chuckled at the rosy red cheeks, "it wouldn't happen to be someone i know, would it?"

"what's it to you?" burying her face deeper into his neck, her voice came out as a murmur, "maybe i have found someone i hope will sweep me off my feet."

though the girl couldn't see it, fred's face dropped, after a wave of shock, not expecting what she said

"oh. well that's good," he shrugged, the movement pulling y/n out of her trance, and out of his neck, "can only imagine how wonderful he is. only the best for you."

"yeah," she said, a look of serenity taking over her face as she thought about the boy that was standing in front of her, "he is pretty wonderful."

"this is mad. at this rate we'll be the only ones in our year without dates. well, us and neville," ron uttered, sharing a chuckle with harry whilst y/n, who was across the table next to fred shared a look of displeasure with hermione, "then again, he can take himself."

before y/n could reply to the younger weasley, hermione had beaten her to it

"how sweet. but it might interest you two to know that neville's already got someone."

a smirk growing, the older gryffindor girl knew that she no longer had to say anything

"well now I'm really depressed."

ron's shoulders drop as his lips form a pout

hearing quick scribbles, y/n turned to read what fred had written before he scrunched it up and threw it at his brother

'get a move on or all the good ones will have gone'

to this, ron looks up from the parchment before turning to his older brother

"who are you going with then?"

fred turned to y/n, who was sat on his right, sharing a smile, as she let out a small giggle, wiggling his eye brows, before turning and throwing a piece of scrunched up parchment at angelina johnson

y/n could only feel her smile drop, her eyes gloss, and the rosy hues fade as she watched the boy next to her whisper at the girl. a girl that wasn't her

"oi! angelina!" acting out dancing movements, he then continued to ask, "do you, want to go, to the ball, with me?"

with a smile growing on her face, angelina turned so her whole body was facing him before resting her head on her hand with a dreamy look

"yeah. yeah, i want to go."

y/n could only see fred wink at ron before she quickly packed all her things and rushed to hand her book to snape, alarming the others as they all watched the girl scamper off, not wanting them to see the tears that had now escaped, her heart broken

"what's wrong with her?" ron could only ask though he got shrugs from both fred and hermione, "well, anyway."

fred could only drown out his brother's words as he watched the girl practically run put of the great hall, before he heard a book slam and turned to witness hermione leaving as well, sending a final glare to his little brother

"girls."

the small sniffles from the gryffindor girl, with the occasional break of an audible sob were all that could be heard that wintry evening as the rebounded off the walls of what she thought was an empty corridor, void of students

"y/n? is that you?" the soft voice came from around the corner from where she was sat, the owner of the voice stepping out into the open corridor to reveal adrian pucey, chaser of the slytherin quidditch team and a total heartthrob, his face softening as he looked at the upset girl in front of him, "are you ok? what happened?"

she made quick eye contact with the boy before she hurriedly brushed away her tears, rubbing at her eyes and glancing down as she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, not wanting to look at him again

not wanting to seem vulnerable or weak in front of him

"come on," nodding his head to the side, he waited with his hand held out, "let's go for a walk. i promise it won't be a bore. i'm a pretty fun person."

looking from his eyes back to his outstretched hand and then his eyes again and seeing nothing but kindness and warmth in his irises, the girl huffed a little before placing her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up from her seated position

not saying anything for a few moments, the pair walked, hands still in each other's, taking in the sights of the school, the blanket of white coating every inch that was exposed, small, icy flakes fluttering and falling, both from the sky and the branches of trees that had collected hefty amounts

"so, mind telling me what's up?" adrian spoke out, filling the otherwise silent air before freezing up a bit, turning to the girl frantically, "not that you should feel obligated to tell me, if it's something you wish to keep to yourself then i won't pester you about it. but. i am here if you do need to talk."

"you make it seem a lot more... serious than it is, i guess," she responded, wanting to reassure the boy whilst feeling idiotic herself, then scoffing and shaking her head, "i mean, who cries because they watched their crush ask out another person to this really extravagant ball that's coming up? stupid, right?"

now frowning, the slytherin boy turns towards her, shaking his head

"y/n. that is a valid reason to be upset. it's not stupid at all. well, i guess it's their loss."

shaking her head as more tears welled up, she stopped their walk, removing her hand from his grasp before facing him and placing both of them on his shoulder

"it's not stupid at all," he all but uttered, not wanting to scare or upset the girl any further by his usually confident and loud voice, "it's rather valid you know. but anyone would be a blind idiot to not take you."

her crying came to a halt as a look of self doubt lingered in her eyes

"no, adrian. you don't understand. the girl is like. stupid gorgeous. like, her eyes are doe like, you could easily get lost in them. her skin is ridiculously smooth and clear, free of blemishes and pimples and blackheads, not to mention the tone of colour. her hair, looks alone, is so silky and it blows freely in the wind, never a single strand out of place. she's a bloody chaser on the quidditch team so that's a factor alone. her laugh is airy and fucking perfect. her smile is so warm and dreamy and captivating. she's not too short but not too tall. angelina johnson," taking a breath, the girl could feel her senses cloud, losing sight and touch, looking aimlessly past the boy, "she's so fucking perfect and. i'm just. me. i don't even know why i thought i had a chance. but the way he looked at me, smiled at me, with that stupid boyish grin he always wears. i was so sure it would happen. and then it didn't. i was stupid to think fred weasley, the class clown, would ask me to the ball when someone like angelina johnson roams the very same halls. it seems so bitchy to say that too because she's so kind. always the sweetest thing to me and here i am being the grouchiest person ever."

"then go with me," he asked, no stated firmly and without a doubt, "i won't let you downplay yourself like that, comparing yourself to someone who is just another girl. who isn't all that. and that's not because i'm biased or partial as your friend. she may be beautiful, but you radiate beauty. and i won't let you continue to bottle up these thoughts that you hold against yourself when they aren't true. so, i am asking you to go to the yule ball with me, as my date."

"oh ade, i, i can't. i just, i don't want a pity date. just because the guy i wanted to go with asked someone else."

instead of arguing, because him asking her wasn't out of pity, adrian held out his hand to her, waiting until she eventually took it, though not without a look of confusion before he cleared his throat, taking her down the corridor

in a horrible, posh british accent, like more posh than his usual accent, he sang out loud, his voice echoing off of the walls for all to hear

"hee hee"

"ade, what are you doing?"

"my baby's always danCInG, and iT WouLdN't be a bAd tHiNG. BUt i doN't geT nO lovInG, aNd thAt'S nO LiE"

quickening her pace to match his, she couldn’t help but smile, forgetting what had happened in the great hall not too long, spinning whenever he motioned for her to, seeing others who were now exiting the great hall watch on, curious

"ade-"

"wE sPenT thE nIGhT in fRisCo, aT evEry kiNdA diScO. fRoM thAt nIghT i kIsSed oUr lOvE gOodByE."

out of the corner of her eye, she could she a flash of ginger hair, though she wasn't given more time to wonder about who it was before she was dipped and she let out the loudest cackle

"ADRIAN-"

"dOn't bLAmE iT on tHe sUNsHinE, DOn'T bLamE It on thE mOoNlIGhT, dON't bLAme It oN ThE gOoD tiMeS. bLAmE iT on thE boOgie."

doing one more spin, the boy left the girl in the middle of the corridor before skipping and spinning and prancing circles around her, her smile growing and lighting up the otherwise darkening hall as the sun set

"i jUSt cAn't, i JuST caN't, I jUsT cAn'T cOnTrol mY feET. i jUSt cAn't, i JuST caN't, I jUsT cAn'T cOnTrol mY feET."

now out of breath, the boy dropped onto both knees, gesturing for her hands and asking once more

"i hope that wasn't too embarrassing for you," he chuckles, taking in deep breaths, the musical break out doing more numbers on him than his weekly quidditch practices, "so, i'll ask again. will you, y/n y/l/n, chaser of the gryffindor quidditch team and total heartthrob, accompany myself, adrian pucey, chaser of the slytherin quidditch team and also total heartthrob, to the yule ball? i can't promise i'll be as 'extravagant' as i was in this moment, but i'll be the best damn date you could ever wish for."

"well, i mean i don't know, i-" dragging on her words, she looked down at the boy to see his confident grin faltering and she knew she couldn't continue to play along, "of course i will ade. how could i say no after that?"

breathing out a sigh of relief, he went to wrap his arms around her before realising he was still on his knees, getting up and then embracing the girl who was no longer teary eyed and instead glowing, radiating warmth and happiness

whilst most onlookers were applauding the 'proposal' they had witnessed between the two chasers, a certain ginger beater, who was watching from behind pillar, was green with envy, shaking his head before walking off to find george

it was christmas night. the night of the yule ball and y/n finds herself in hermione's dorm room, getting ready with said girl and the youngest weasley

"ok but can we talk about that proposal again and how cute it was," ginny exclaimed, grabbing onto the oldest girl's hand and twirling, though almost falling due to the wedges that adorned her feet, "i mean. i always saw you two together so i knew he was friendly but. the singing, the dancing, the 'falling onto his knees'. it was so romantic."

"ah, gin," the girl, though smiling, shook her head slightly, straightening up her younger friend, "it was cute, but i just don't see adrian like that. he's just a good friend."

"y/n, y/n, y/n. did you not see the way he looked at you? it was practically heart-eyes. he adores you. he had this soft smile on his face and his eyes glowed. it was like you had hung, no, handpicked the moon and the stars for him. he was enamoured."

"adrian is aromantic, gin. i can assure you he doesn't like me like that. besides, though he's my date, i've always had my eye on someone. the feelings just don't seem to be reciprocated."

ginny's smile faltered as she looked at her friend who was gazing down, twiddling her fingers

"if you're talking about my git of a brother," she held up a finger to the girl, whose mouth was slightly ajar, as if she were to ask 'which brother' "and before you get smart, i'm talking about fred. you're clearly not as smart as i thought you were if you think for a second that he doesn't like you. he's constantly talking about you and whatever you've done that was just 'oustanding' or 'astronomical' when you aren't around.. and then where you are around, he needs to be touching you in some way. if i thought adrian was enamoured with you, fred is gobsmacked, drop dead, head over heels, in love with you."

"then why didn't he ask me to the ball, gin? why did he ask angelina? and why did he do it in front of me? no, it doesn't matter. i don't think i have the right to ask that. just... clearly, whatever feelings he did feel.. aren't there," she looked over to the clock in the room before turning to the bed that had her dress hanging just above it, "come on. we've got just under two hours before the ball, and i would like to do your hair. your dress is beautiful by the way."

"well i know, and yes i understood, adrian does not like you and you do not like him and it's all platonic, but i just know he's gonna be blown away with how gorgeous you'll look. i mean the satin and the deepness of the green, which honestly suits you. even if he wore his house tie, it would still match your dress. you'd look hot as a slytherin. too bad you're too much of a lion to be a snake. platonic or not, this is still gonna be as much of a date as any other date you've been on or could go on. and don't look at me like that, enjoy your night with adrian. you deserve it."

before y/n could respond to the girl after having braided and pinned up her ginger hair into a half up/half down style, hermione's voice echoed from the bathroom

"y/n, could you please help me with my hair?"

"don't think for a second that i'm done with you gin, just give me a few minutes. i've got a choice of words with you."

"ah, would you look at the time. i think neville is downstairs waiting for me. see you soon."

"gin- GINERVA," before y/n could say the girl's full name, she had sped out of the dorm room, leaving the older girl to shake her head and huff, "i'm gonna kill her."

quickly slipping in her own dress, she then knocked on the bathroom door before opening it, to see a nervous hermione granger in a beautiful periwinkle dress that complimented the soft brown of her eyes

"and what is it that i will be doing with your hair tonight, miss?" she asked in a horrible mock posh accent, "would you care to flip through our catalogue? i personally love style 3."

"i was actually wondering if you could help me curl it and then pin it back, i don't want to do too much with it," she requests, finally looking over to her friend before gasping slightly, "the dress is absolutely gorgeous on you, y/n. adrian won't know what hit him. if we didn't already have dates, i'd take you myself. save me a dance, perhaps?"

"oh, of course, kind lady. it would be an honour to get the opportunity to dance with you at this regal ball," she continued with her horrible accent, whilst casting a charm to curl hermione's hair, going to speak again but losing the accent, her tone sincere, "you look beautiful, mione. i just know viktor won't be able to keep his eyes off you. and i mean, i wouldn't blame him. i wouldn't want to look away from you either. you really did a wonderful job at picking the dress. should i ever get married, obviously as one of my bridesmaids, or even maid of honour, i'd have you pick out the dresses without a doubt. ok, all done. what do you think?"

"oh, y/n," before y/n could say anything, hermione threw her arms around her, "it's absolutely beautiful, thank you. ok, take a seat and i'll do your hair and your make up if you'd like. not that you'd need any. your natural beauty alone would blow the minds of the whole school, hogwarts, beauxbatons and durmstrang. veela's have nothing on you."

"granger, you flatter me. surprise me will you? i don't really have anything in mind so go at it however you see fit. and maybe just a clear gloss. that way, i can get absolutely hammered and not worry about having to remove a full face of make up."

at the request, hermione spun the girl so that she was no longer facing the mirror, taking the still charmed wand and curling her hair back to resemble that of beach waves, keeping it soft and light, not overdone, before parting her hair, braiding the top half of the two section before tying it off into two separate ponytails that sat on the top of her head, similar to a half up/half down style. she then applied a coat of clear gloss as requested, as well as a light coat of mascara to really accentuate her eyes, before spinning her again, ready for the reveal.

"i'd like to see adrian try and take his eyes away from you. it'd be with great difficulty, i'll tell you that much. you'll easily be the prettiest girl at the ball."

"oh, mione, you can't say that when you'll be there. if i'm gorgeous, you're absolutely stunning. i honestly am envious that viktor is taking you. though i'm sure you'll have a wonderful time. don't hide away too much, yeah? i will be getting that dance," she then hugged the younger girl, careful as to not wrinkle either dress or ruin either hairstyle, "thank you for this. i don't think i've ever felt this pretty. who needs a beauty team? i just need you, my girl. let's go blow everyone away, yeah?"

"let's do it."

walking down to the great hall, the duo heard gasps and saw looks of awe as they turned heads. y/n saw the youngest weasley standing with neville and her own date before looking around, her eyes settling on a cleaned up fred weasley who looked as handsome as ever. he seemed to have found her too, meeting her gaze

she wanted to smile bashfully and wave at the boy she considered her best friend before she saw the girl whose arm was linked with his. the girl that was hanging off of him. and she removed her gaze from him, keeping the small smile as she looked over to adrian, who was returning the smile as he met her gaze, walking over to meet her at the foot of the staircase

"i'll see you around, mione. blow them all away."

the girls hugged a final time before separating to move to their respective dates

"wow, y/l/n. you look incredible. didn't take you to be much of a green girl but it really does suit you. maybe you should've been sorted into slytherin, would've fit right in."

"mm, i don't think so. too many snakes for me to handle. i'm happy with my little pride of lions. must admit, you do look quite incredible yourself. very handsome. i very much like that your tie matches my dress. you wouldn't have asked one of my friends about the colour, would you?"

"whaat? me? never. that does not sound like me at all. but yes. yes i did. reckon we'll make quite the couple. turning heads left, right and centre."

"maybe i should have worn a burgundy. once in a lifetime opportunity to see you in red. reckon you'd look quite ravishing i suppose."

"maybe not so much. wouldn't want to make a fool of myself. at least you can pull off any colour, miss head-turner. shall we make our way inside now?"

"we shall. lead the way, mr head-turner."

from the other side of the hallway

fred was standing just outside the entrance of the great hall, in a group that consisted of himself and his date, angelina, george and his date, alicia spinnet, and lee and his date, patricia stimpson, when the three girls turned to the staircase to see who was making their way down and gasped

"look at our girl, ang. she looks amazing," exclaimed alicia, pulling george with her towards the girl, though george stopped her, "why are we stopping?"

"the girl still needs to find her date, ali. we'll see her inside, alright?"

the girl pouted slightly before nodding and returning her gaze to their third chaser

"did you guys see pucey's proposal to her? it was so romantic and she looked so happy. if i'm being honest though, i thought you'd ask her freddie. especially after that dance practice a few weeks ago. but you have to admit, she and pucey make quite the cute couple. it had to have been the talk of the school. one of our chasers with slytherin's chaser and heartthrob, adrian pucey. i mean she was left smiling hours after. sure, he can't sing to save his life, but it was adorable. the way he got on his knees and grapsed onto her. the way he spun her. her cackle! i don't think i've seen her so hap-" angelina was cut off mid-sentence

"can we stop talking about how cute pucey and y/l/n would be? this isn't about them."

"woah, what's wrong with you? besides it's the truth isn't it? isn't she your best friend? you'd think you'd be happy for her?"

"she can be with pucey for all i care. he's bloody perfect for her, isn't he?" fred sneered, moving his gaze to look at the girl, his glare dropping as he saw that her eyes met his before she turned away, "i just want the best for her. that's all."

george could only smirk, wanting to slap the back of his twin's head but refraining and he rested his arm around alicia

"it seems to me like your jealous, freddie."

fred could only scoff, his glare returning and focusing on his brother

"shove off. whatever, let's just go inside." he suggested as he saw the girl he longed for enter the great hall with her date

looking around the now wintry filled hall, y/n couldn't help but gasp, her grasp around adrian's arm tightening

just when you thought the school couldn't get anymore magical

"oh, ade it's wonderful. it's so magical."

"i'm afraid that's to be expected in a school of witchcraft and wizardry, my dear. thought you knew that. this'll shock you. we also have wands each that produce spells and charms. just as magical."

rolling her eyes but smiling nonetheless, she lightly shoved the boy before looping her arm through his once more

"shut up, smart arse, you know what i mean."

"i do. but i must say, it's got nothing on you and your beauty. really did me dirty because now i have to fend off the whole school. it'd be considered lucky if i'm 436th in the line of 947. you really have charmed the school, y/l/n."

"you flatter me. look, here come the champions? ugh, my mione is so gorgeous. booked myself a dance with her, i did. luckiest girl in the world i consider myself to be."

"well i guess i'm 437th in the line now. i hope you're ready for your feet to be aching."

"oh stop it ade. if anything, you're 537th. no, i probably won't dance with that many people, to be completely honest. you, mione, ginny, luna, maybe george if i can catch a word with alicia. oh my goodness. look at fleur. she's absolutely stunning."

"again. i mean, yeah she's pretty. but looking at the girl on my arm, she's nothing but a caterpillar next to the butterfly that is you. don't tell her that though. she might send the whole of beauxbatons on my ass and i'd like to be around long enough to walk you back to your common room."

"you're such a flirt. might wanna watch out before i start to believe less and less that you're aromantic."

"why? is the infamous y/n y/l/n scared to fall in love with the handsome, dashing, charming, endearing, loving, kind and caring adrian pucey?"

"not to mention cocky and the lack of humbleness. but no. in fact it's quite the opposite. wouldn't want to break your heart when you inevitably fall in love with me, ade."

"oh because it will hurt for sure. thank you for watching out for my heart," he chuckled, grasping his chest, as if to reinforce the protection he holds over his heart, "i just want to give you the full experience as my date. that includes the corny compliments, horrible jokes and puns and of course my amazing dancing skills. so, what do you say? we go spike the punch, have a few glasses and then hit the dance floor and show everyone what we're made of? not enough to be absolutely wasted, but enough to allow you to feel the rush, enough to be tipsy, enough for you to sober up easily after a couple songs."

"let's do it."

5 minutes later

the dances of the champions has concluded and now other couples are invited to occupy the vast dance room

y/n and adrian, three glasses of spiked punch layer, were just a little tipsy, feeling the rush of the alcohol but were stable enough to find each other's touch and guided the other to the dance floor as a familiar song began to play

something told me it was over

when i saw you and her talking

something deep down in my soul said "cry girl"

when i saw you and that girl walking around

swaying together, the pair moved closer, the warmth welcoming both of them, something nice about being able hold each other like this, whilst knowing that the only thing that would come out of tonight would be a closer friendship

"i love this song. the lyrics tell such a sad story but etta james just captures the feelings that should be portrayed so beautifully. the fact that she'd want to lose her sense of sight than to have to watch the man she's in love with push her to the side as he pursues another."

i would rather, i would rather be blind

than to see you walk away

so you see, i love you so much

that i don't wanna watch you leave me

"the song is rather sad. i must say though. i wouldn't want to go blind when i have you in front of me, dazzling the whole school."

"and so the corny puns start, huh? do your worst, pucey."

"oh darling, don't worry. i plan to."

when the reflection in the glass

that i held to my lips now

revealed the tears that are all on my face

baby i'd rather be blind

than to see you walk away from me

the song then ended, though the pair continue to sway, seemingly lost in their own world as another fan favourite began to play, y/n removing her head from adrian's shoulder to better appreciate the abba song, if you will, grasping the hand that rested on her hand to manoeuvre him around, matching the tempo the upbeat song

you can dance

you can jive

having the time of your life

see that girl

watch that scene

digging the dancing queen

"i swear this song is like every teenage girl's 'anthem', i guess you could call it. i heard this song a lot growing up. mum loved it."

the two would spin each other, the previous stance during the slower dance gone as they were laughing loudly together. they were sure to remember this night for the rest of their lives

anybody could be that guy

night is young and the music's high

with a bit of rock music

everything is fine

you're in the mood for a dance

and when you get the chance

"dad always found mum's taste in music a little weird, being a muggle and all, but he loved her and her weird little quirks so much. he loved how happy she got whenever the song would play, so he always played it any chance he got."

"was wondering who you inherited your quirkiness from. figured it was something you picked up on your own. seems that isn't the case."

slapping his chest lightly, she threw her head back, laughing

"oi! how rude. some gentleman you are, ade. feeling real flattered right now. like gosh, i might faint. falling head over heels."

"oh shush."

you are the dancing queen

young and sweet

only seventeen

dancing queen

feel the beat of the tambourine

"i didn't think i'd have this much fun if i'm being honest," y/n laughed as they continued to mindlessly jump and twirl around together, knowing that others were watching, and that they'd probably look at the two weirdly for their assortment of strange dance moves, "but i'm so glad i'm here with you tonight, ade. the evening has been absolutely wonderful."

"your mother was a muggle, right?"

"yes? why?"

"just had to be sure. do you know if she ever went to those muggle balls that they hold in movies? prom was it?"

"i didn't know you watched muggle films," she glanced over to the boy who was now bashful, sporting a small smile, "but uh, no. prom is an american event. mum, however, did go to a formal. who she went with, i wouldn't know. i just know it wasn't dad. she met him a good 5 years after she finished school."

"well, i saw that proms often crown for prom king and queen. if you ask me, who needs a prom queen when i have my dancing queen right in front of me."

she cackled once again, wanting to slap his chest yet again but deciding against it and instead fixing up his tie which had been a little lopsided

"you really are something, you know that."

"i think they have one more upbeat song before they play a final slow song, so what you say we have a few more glasses and sober up before the last dance."

another three glasses later and the second last song began to ring out through the hall

i've got sunshine on a cloudy day

when it's cold outside

i've got the month of may

"this song just makes me so happy. it was my parents wedding song. mum grew up with it and she introduced dad to the song after their second date. dad's loved it ever since. would always sing it to her. it makes me feel warm."

i guess

you'd say

what can make me feel this way

my girl

talking 'bout my girl

"i wish i grew up on songs like these. they just seem so nostalgic even though i'm hearing them for the first time tonight."

"ade, you're joking? you cannot be serious. this is urgent. every time we hang out, no matter what, i will play one song. this just isn't acceptable. i refuse to believe it."

i've got so much honey

the bees envy me

i've got a sweeter song

than the birds in the trees

"what do you say y/l/n? reckon my singing the other week was sweeter than the birds that roam hogwarts?"

"that was singing? well, sweet isn't the first word that comes to mind."

"oi, you should be grateful. i don't give out thise performances for free. only on special occasions. it was a moment to remember forever."

whilst the two swayed and the girl sang to the boy, a ginger haired, sulking, teenage boy was staring off at them from his seated position

"you're staring. the song is about to end freddie, just ask her. i'm sure adrian won't mind. everyone knows you're her best friend."

"why would she want to dance with me, ang? she looks quite content with pucey. what's the point?"

"it's just one dance, fred. besides, you've been frowning all night and that's not like you, it's weird."

"quite the date i am huh? sorry. you would've been better off with harry and he's just as much of a lousy date as i am. at least his date got a dance."

"it's alright. i still got a few dances with alicia and you know i've had my eye on roger davis. got a dance with him so i'd say my night was pretty successful."

"that makes one of us."

suddenly, before the final song was to commence, dumbledore had a final announcement to make

"the yule ball is coming to a close and so i must announce before the final dance that there is to be a change in scene. i ask that you gentlemen or women invite another to the dance floor that he or she did not accompany to the ball."

"see, there's your chance fred. take it."

"if anything, she'd probably want to dance with geor-"

"FRED WEASLEY YOU GO OVER TO THAT GIRL AND YOU ASK HER TO DANCE RIGHT NOW BEFORE I ASK FOR YOU MYSELF! i am sick of your pity party of despair and loneliness. just go for it."

he could only sigh as he stood up from the seat he had been sat in for the last 2 hours, making his way over to the pair, though lord knows his heart was 2 seconds away from pounding violently through his ribcage and out of his chest

whilst fred made his way over, the two were still away in their own world, wanting the moment to last just a little longer

"was hoping i'd get my last dance with you. i've had so much fun tonight and i don't want it to end."

"i've had a lot of fun too. was quite the experience having the prettiest girl in hogwarts wrapped in my arms, swaying to muggle misic. who would have thought. i think i might sit this one out. i don't see myself dancing with anyone else that isn't you."

"are you sure you're aromantic, ade? like, straight up? 100%?"

though he knew she meant nothing by it, he still laughed lightly and hugged her before pulling away so they were both at arms distance

"straight up. if i wasn't, i would have been kissing the hell out of you. i can assure you i feel no romantic feelings. even after having you in my embrace for the last 2 hours, it's nothing but platonic. i just don't see anything happening. that, and i can see a certain ginger making his way over and i don't fancy getting kocked out right now. so, after the dance, i'll meet you and escort you to your common room to see you off."

looking to her right slightly, her heartbeat quickens as she sees a hurried fred weasley making his way over before she turns back to adrian

"are you sure? i could just sit with you?"

"i'm sure. i'll just sit with miles. poor bloke was rejected so he's been sat at the table, drinking. reckon i should go over before he dies of alcohol poisoning because trust me, he will find a way. besides, i think someone wants to dance with you. about time if you ask me."

and with that, adrian placed a final kiss on her forehead before he walked away, sending a last wink towards her before turning and not looking back

she could only watch his retreating back for a moment longer before she felt a tap on her shoulder

feeling like her chest was about to explode, she took a slow, deep breath before turning to see the boy who, after the weeks that went by with distance between them, still had her heart

"hi? um, you look.. good?" his face furrowed, slightly frowning as he shook his head, "i mean, obviously you look better than good. amazing, incredible, gorgeous, spectacular. all eyes were on you tonight and reasonably so. the dark green really stood out against your skin. you and pu- adrian really blew the whole school away. it was really cute. anyway, it was nice talking to yo-"

"fred, do you want to dance with me?"

here she was with her heart on her sleeves as she awaited his answer. fred was flabbergasted

"i- me?"

"i mean, no one else is around," she said as she gestured to the empty space around her, "what do you say, freddie? for old times sake? accompany me for the final dance?"

"how could i say no?"

she let out a breath of relief as she took the hand that was held out to her, a small smile growing on her face as she felt warm

dumbledore moved to the centre of the stage a final time

"now, please join me in welcoming mr jon mclaughlin who has warmly agreed to sing our final song for the evening. mr mclaughlin, the stage is yours."

a light piano echoes through the hall as y/n gazes into fred's eyes, something she hasn't done for a while, something she has missed

she missed her freddie and she finally had him back in her arms and she was reluctant to let go

you're in my arms

and all the world is gone

the music playing on for only two

she wanted to say something, anything. she wanted nothing more than to catch up with the boy in front of her but nothing came to mind

so she just held on tighter, resting her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as they swayed in time, the rest of the world beginning to fade out as they lost themselves to the music and the soft voice of mr mclaughlin

so close

together

and when i'm with you

so close to feeling alive

he too had a lot on his mind. like how effortlessly perfect she was. from the way her eyes shone as the fire of the floating candles reflected off of them. how her cheeks now adorned its usual rosy hues. how in love he was with her

"you really are beautiful, love."

a life goes by

romantic dreams must die

so i bid mine goodbye

and never knew

"thank you, freddie. i must say, you look quite swell yourself."

"ah, you know. i just pulled this little getup from out of my trunk. curled my hair a little, though it's nothing compared to you. i never thought i'd love seeing you in green so much."

she couldn't help but lean closer, wanting to be as close to the boy as possible

"so, you and pucey, huh? when did that become a thing?"

"adrian?"

"is there another pucey running around that i don't know about?"

y/n could only scoff, though it was light-hearted

"smart arse. there isn't a thing. we're just friends. freddie, i don't want to talk about adrian. just. dance with me."

so close

was waiting

waiting here for you

and now forever i know

all that i want is

to hold you

so close

she rested her head on his shoulder, with a little struggle but she got there and and shared a look with angelina, who only winked at the girl. similarly, fred, who now turned was facing adrian who could only raise his drink in acknowledgement, smiling, and seeming to have mouthed the words, 'well done weasley', to which fred just shook his head, the smile never leaving his face

so close

to reaching that famous happy end

almost believing this one's not pretend

and now you're beside me

and look how far we've come

so far

we are

so close

looking back on their years together, the pair couldn't help but wonder why this didn't happen sooner, why they elongated the pain and sat through the hurt when they could've shared this moment of peace and euphoria earlier

they thought about the weeks they had spent apart and in the presence of another when all they needed was each other. what were they thinking, honestly?

"are you singing, frederick gideon weasley?"

"for you, i'd do just about anything, love."

she sighed happily before she thought back to that afternoon in the great hall. the study session

"i really thought you were gonna ask me. i was so sure, especially when you looked at me with those warm eyes of yours and your happy, boyish grin and i was so excited. but then, you turned and asked someone else. and i had to leave. i couldn't be around to hear all the giggles you both shared whilst i was slowly breaking."

oh how could i face the faceless days

if i should lose you now

"y/n, i'm so sorry. believe me when i say that i was planning on asking you. that afternoon, during dance practice. i was set on asking you then. but then you said-"

"that i might have found someone i wanted to sweep me off my feet. did it never occur to you that i was thinking about you? freddie, i had, have literal heart eyes for you. was it not even a little obvious?"

"i guess not, love," he said, shaking his head at his own obliviousness, "i just. wanted the best for you. and if you had already found it in someone else, then i was fine with that. well, i wasn't but i wasn't gonna let it show. when you said that, i thought someone else had asked. and that you had said yes. so i asked angie, and ended up being a shit date, so i owe her big time. but then when i left to chase after you, adrian was there, singing, in a horrible accent i'd like to add, and in the middle of it all, you just looked so happy, despite the tear tracks that stained your face. your smile was so bright. and then he asked you and you said yes and i just felt. defeated. which is unfair, but i didn't know you were dateless. had i known, i would've asked myself. i just should have asked you about it, but instead, i went and asked someone else, i made you cry and then i pushed you into the arms of another in the process. i was just a downright git who doesn't deserve you. i'm lucky you're dancing with me ri-"

we're so close

to reaching that famous happy end

almost believing this one's not pretend

let's go on dreaming though we know we are

rolling her eyes, she pulled him even closer, if it were possible, titling her head ever so slightly to slot her lips onto his, shutting him up

and it was like sparks, no, fireworks went off and they lost themselves to each other. this was where they truly belonged

"do you ever shut up? you ramble a lot, freddie. i'd say it's cute and a little impressive but then it kept going on and on and i didn't know when you'd st-"

fred leans in again, the kiss lasting a little longer than the first, the otherwise chilly night feeling rather warm

"fred, you just kissed someone with a dirty mouth."

fred grinned gingerly, leaning in to whisper into her ear

"yeah. and i'm about to do it again."

so close

and still

so far

adrian and angelina, who was accompanied by roger davis, sat off to the side, grinning at the kissing couple, bumping fists under the table

"i reckon she doesn't need me to escort her to the common room anymore. suppose i should take drunk-off-his face over here back to our dorm," adrian says to angelina, gesturing to the shitfaced miles bletchley, "tell y/n i said goodnight. if you get the chance to."

and with that, adrian left the yule ball with his drunk mate attached to his arm and a smile on his face, happy that his friend finally got the guy she wanted

her freddie

is that a wrap?! i think fucking so. this will forever be my baby because believe me when i say i've never written a fic this long but it was so worth it.. love yall <33

#Spotify #fred weasley #y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagine #adrian pucey #harry potter #goblet of fire au #yule ball #enchanted #so close

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velvetures · 9 months

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omg hey just here to shoot a request, idk if you do gaz as well but only soap is ok too. maybe something like soap x reader where the reader is a transfer from the american sector and she's just this super energetic, "AMERICA SCRAAAWWW" kind of person but is also super in learning about cultures and stuff. then the boys take her to this texas themed pub that she just criticizes the shit ton as she's from texas. i think it'll be funny to see a scot x texan lol thxx

God Bless Texas... and Scotland

A/N: I believe my goal here is to make something a little more on the joking/humorous side here... I'm not trying to get into politics or country pride on a deep level. This is just for fun. Nevertheless, thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy the direction I went with this. This is sooo damn cheesy... Summary: On shore leave, you and Soap get into a conversation about what it was like in your home countries. A couple funny stereotypes and light-hearted argument later, the 141 decide that experiencing both sides of the coin are necessary to settle the score. T/W's: stereotypes ofc, cursing, friendly banter/teasing, and as always not proofread.

It all started when you came out of your private quarters into the shared living room with an old t-shirt on with the admittedly cliche statement 'God Bless Texas' printed boldly over the front inside of a state-boundary shape. Out of all of the members of the 141, you were undoubtedly the most... shall we say... patriotic. At least in terms of your state pride and your unwavering happiness of having family still living there who were so in support of you and your work. Having family in the first place was something different compared to the rest of the squad, and it made the whole pride of where you came from a lot more difficult to understand.

You'd spent years at this point being around the 141 and learning all kinds of very unique and traditional habits that they carried with them despite oftentimes not having a family to share them with. Most of those, they shared with each other, and after getting comfortable with you was extended as a way to bond with you outside of the missions and other job requirements that you did together. From Soap's requirement of the "First Footing" tradition on New Year's, Captian Price never missing a Soccer World Cup no matter where he is, and Gaz's refusal to have a Christmas dinner without Christmas pudding, there isn't a time when someone isn't explaining their desire to incorporate some country, cultural, or family tradition in one way or another.

So, naturally, Soap was ecstatic when he found out about some little niche place that had opened up an 'American, Texas-Themed' restaurant. He knew it would be totally overdone, as did everyone else, so they all thought it would be something of a light-hearted way to poke fun at your loyalties by taking you there as a "resident expert" that could point them in the right direction and away from everything else. Truly the idea of having at least on full hour of teaisng you with everything they could just sounded like a damn good way to spend an afternoon.

The place was a little hole-in-the-wall pub with a little bit of seating that wasn’t directly at the bar. Dim lighting made it feel pretty inviting, but the obvious country music choices including Texas natives: George Strait, Waylon Jennings, and Willie Nelson made it feel a little cheap. Especially with the taxidermy Longhorn head above the bar and the “cowboy” style of practically everything hanging on the walls. Although it wasn’t quite the most miserable place you’d even been, it certainly felt like a little more than just a healthy appreciation.

“Home away from home, right lass?” Soap’s devilish grin only made the wound sting your pride that much more.

"Ya know... actually, not one bit." You answer a bit awestruck and looking around the place with bated breath and the hope that it wouldn't get much worse than it already was.

To your irritation, it got worse. Much worse.

After getting seated by an -obviously- British woman forced to fake a deep and southern drawl, you were all handed menus that named off the most "popular" foods in the Southern United States that not only made you chuckle out loud with disbelief but actually voice the total inaccuracies of certain dishes that the men sitting around you actually thought were legitimate staple items.

"You actually eat rattlesnakes often?" Gaz thought it was a bit far off since he spent quite a bit of time in his service in South Carolina, but thought he'd clarify with you anyway.

"For Christ's sake, Garrick. No!" You roll your eyes, taking a drink of the iced sweet tea you were actually shocked to see was listed as a drink option.

That in itself was the largest contention point with Ghost who stared at you with an iron-clad will of hatred seeing you pleasantly drinking iced sweet tea like you were enjoying the abomination. To his horror, you were quick to compliment that they'd actually gotten it pretty close to how you made it yourself or people at home did.

"What is a pecan pie?" Captain Price was quick to question the dessert menu before a waitress had even come back around to take main course orders.

His question sounded somewhat confused and downright scandalized at the same time. And to be honest, you really didn't know how to explain that it was simply a pie with corn syrup and brown sugar-based sweet filling, covered with pecans that were baked in a regular pie shell. You attempted to describe the basic ingredients and how it was made to the table of interested men, only to have them all stare in guarded horror... Save for Gaz. He'd actually tried it while in the States and said he'd enjoyed it. Luckily he was on your side for that particular topic.

The men as a whole hilariously didn't order anything that you -or they- considered uniquely "Texan" or "American". Soap insisted that you pick a meal that sounded the most authentic to you and that they would try some of the food off of your plate. Of course, the idea sounded good to them, but you weren't sure you wanted to share a plate of food that could possibly be decently "American" when it would still be months before you could go back home.

You folded quickly and picked a meal that you believed would be safe enough to keep them from being outwardly horrified with you but would still be interesting to compare to the meals you grew up with at home. The most simple and safe option was what they called the 'Home Run Special', most certainly a knock-off of the American chain breakfast restaurant. It came with pancakes, fried eggs, bacon, biscuits, sausage gravy, grits, and hashbrowns.

When the platter came out, you were pleasantly surprised at the look of everything, seeing as it visually had promise and even smelled just about right as well. With one glance around the table, you saw every single man staring at the three-plate meal sitting in front of you and couldn't believe that all of that food was supposedly for one person. That comment alone did make you laugh. It was one thing that you weren't afraid to admit. You could eat a whole lot. And it was a family thing that you never could be shy to not own up to. Eating all of that breakfast to them might've seemed totally unacceptable, yet for you, it looked very accomplishable, given the food tasted good. They each wanted you to give your own personal opinions before they tried anything and watched you intently for any sign of your acceptance or lack thereof.

By the end of the meal, the men had all tried everything and had mixed opinions of what they thought was actually good or not. You believed the biscuits and gravy were totally garbage and vowed that you could make them better, and wouldn't even allow them to taste them for fear of cementing an even more concrete belief that biscuits weren't meant to be savory. They were half-and-half on the bacon, some saying it was really good while others complained it wasn't enough meat for so much grease. You... were quite pleased. Eggs were fine, they all didn't really pay them much mind, while the grits were such a contested topic that you weren't sure if they lost respect for you since you finished the entire serving.

"Although I've enjoyed the majority of the food and I was surprised with it... this isn't anything legitimate." You mutter with a full stomach, looking around the place and beginning to feel a little more homesick than you thought such a tacky pub could produce.

Soap, who was finishing off your pancakes nudged your shoulder a little and smiled. "You'll have to take me home with ya. Then I ken' really find out why ye' think Texas is so damn special."

"You have to take me home with you too Johnny," You take the fork out of his hand and eat one more bite of pancakes. "So I can see if God blessed Scotland, too."

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#john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #sergeant #soap #call of duty #modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #mwii #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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christmas on the road // george russell

summary: all george wants for christmas is to get home to his wife and his son. unbeknownst to him, his wife has a little surprise in the from of two pink lines that's about to make his christmas that much sweeter.

pairing: george russell x wife! reader

warnings: pregnancy. other than that, just fluffy dad! george. his son's name is hudson charles russell :)

king's lynn, norfolk. december 24th, 11:55 PM.

the soft lights of the christmas tree were the only lights on in the room as y/n russell sat curled up on the large couch, watching the clock tick as she ran her fingers through her son's fine hair.

hudson russell had insisted on waiting up for his father, but traffic out of brackley had been terrible, and though george had left four hours earlier, he still wasn't back yet. it was a hell of a commute to make, but george was lucky enough that most of his work could be done remotely when required. hudson had fallen asleep two hours ago, his little head resting in his mother's lap.

he was looking more and more like george every single day.

she still remembered the day that she found out she was pregnant. she had been so scared to tell george. they were so young, and he was still has something to prove. his second season at williams, his first with a new teammate. the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and she hadn't wanted to add to that.

it had been a tough race. george had ignored everybody when he got back to the garage, including his girlfriend. she'd tried so hard to stop herself from crying as she watched his driver's room door click shut.

fuck the pregnancy hormones.

"georgie?" she'd asked softly, gently knocking on the door. "can i come in, love? i need to talk to you, and i want to know that you're okay."

the door creaked open slowly. george was sitting on the massage table with his head in his hands. "i can't do this any more, y/n. i can't hang around at the back of the pack, driving in circles all on my own. i'd rather admit defeat."

it hurt her to see him like this. she took a seat next to him, looking at the windowless white room that he'd somehow managed to make feel like his own for the weekend. "george, you can't give up just yet. it's been a rough few years, i know. but we need you."

"we?" there was confusion in his voice as he turned to look at her. "honey, what do you mean 'we'?"

"george, i'm pregnant."

time seemed to stop as george just stared at her. "you're what? but how? we were so safe."

"sometimes, things just happen, george. i don't know. but i do know that this baby wouldn't want their father to give up right now."

george turned around, taking her hands in his. she was starting to cry, and he hated that he knew he was about to make things worse, even though he didn't want to. "baby, i love you so much, and i need you to know that, because i need some time to myself to process this, and i don't want to say anything i might regret. but i need you to know, you and this baby, to know that you're so loved."

nine months later, hudson charles russell was born, and george had come straight from the racetrack to the hospital, leaving nyck de vries to run the qualifying session, sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, race suit around his waist as he held his son to his bare chest, trying his best not to cry.

they'd gotten married a year later. george had walked down the aisle holding hudson's hand, and charles had hudson on his shoulders for the entire ceremony.

and now, a small box covered in sparkling wrapping paper was waiting under the christmas tree. something that would change her life again, in the best way.

the door opened behind her, and she found herself waiting for george's traditional 'honey, i'm home' shout before she remembered that her husband probably assumed that both she and hudson were asleep.

"in the living room, hon!" she tried to shout it as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake the sleeping toddler in her lap.

george russell couldn't stop the smile on his face when he saw his wife on the couch, wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe, hair thrown up in a messy bun. and he smiled even wider when he saw his little boy curled up at his mother's side.

"hi, honey." george smiled, leaning in to kiss y/n. "why is hudson still up?"

"he just wanted to see his dad." she smiled, brushing a small strand of dirty blonde hair out of hudson's face. "do you want to tuck him in?"

y/n moved to stand up, hudson in her arms, when george stopped her. "i've got him, darling." george was quiet and careful, doing his best not to wake the small child in his arms. hudson stirred, wrapping his small, pudgy fingers around george's thumb.

it was still little moments like that that made the mercedes driver's heart swell. it was a feeling even better than his win in brazil the year prior. (lando had teased him relentlessly for mentioning hudson and y/n in his podium speech.)

y/n followed her husband upstairs, her heart filled with love as she watched george kiss his son on the top of the head. before she went up the first step, she ran back to the christmas tree.

the clock read 12:06.

it was officially christmas morning.

the grabbed the small box, slipping it into the pocket of her bathrobe before she turned back towards the staircase, tiptoeing over to hudson's room.

the little boy was lying in the middle of his racecar bed, a custom-built replica of his father's old williams f1 car. the soft blue sheets were pulled up over the two-year old's small body. george was laying next to hudson, comfortingly resting his hand on the toddler's back.

y/n watched from the doorway, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to have found george william russell. and how the two of them were about to get even luckier.

at the sight of his wife standing in the doorway, george sat up, pressing a quick kiss to his son's temple before he slowly got up from the bed, crossing the room and closing the door behind him.

"merry christmas, love." he smiled, pulling his wife in for a deep kiss on the lips.

"since it's already christmas morning, i have something for you." y/n beamed, passing her husband the box. "go on, open it, you muppet."

george laughed, still standing in front of hudson's bedroom door as he pulled at the wrapping paper. it was an old box from swarovski, and the driver gave it a confused glance before y/n whispered to open it.

he carefully opened the end of the box, his face scrunched up in even more confusion before the white plastic stick fell out of the open end, into his palm. he turned it over, his eyes opening widely as he saw the two pink lines.

"you're pregnant? we're having another one?" his shock gavev way to excitement, his grin splitting his features as he beamed at his wife. "i'm going to be a father again!"

"that's a much better reaction than last time." y/n laughed, wrapping her arms around the love of her life before she kissed him. "we're having another baby, darling."

"i love you so much." george whispered, on the verge of tears as he kissed the top of his wife's head. "merry christmas, y/n."

"i love you more, george william russell. merry christmas."

________

Tags: @magnummagnussen @daydreamingleclerc @flannel-cures @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @diorleclerc

#george russell x reader #george russel imagine #george russell #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #mercedes amg petronas #mercedes f1 #the christmas collection 2022 #mini fic

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scotianostra · 13 days

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April 16th 1746 saw the Battle of Culloden.

Much has been said about the site of the battle and the Prince has been criticised for “choosing” the moor.

Three sites were scouted in the 48 hours leading up to the battle, they knew Cumberland’s army was coming, their had been skirmishes in the week or so before this day, things were coming to a head.

The first site as at Dalcross Castle, which John Sullivan, the Irish adjutant and quartermaster general, rejected, because the distance across the ravine would have been too small to protect the Jacobite army from British musket fire from the other side.

The second was on the south side of the Nairn, chosen by Lord George Murray. This was poor ground, did not protect the road to Inverness and was vulnerable to British mortar fire from the other side of the river. It is clear that this site was a prelude to retreat and the dissolution of the army, because it was not an effective battle site.

The third site was about 1km east of where the battle was eventually fought, and John Sullivan drew up the army there on 15 April. It was on higher and less boggy ground than the final battlefield, and both wings of the army could see each other, which they could not in the next day’s sleet and rain. No one ‘chose’ the site of the battle on Drummossie Moor as a preference: it was the line closest to headquarters at Culloden House which could defend the road to Inverness.

Many of those soldiers who were asleep after the failed night attack on the 15th had retreated to the grounds of Culloden House, and there was little time to form them up as the British Army approached on the morning of the battle.

Some had urged the Prince to fall back into the hills and glens, split into units and launch a guerrilla campaign, historians can’t agree who ruled this out, some say Lord Murray, others Prince Charles, some a mixture of the two, no matter what it never happened, as we all know.

The battle began around before mid-day, the 9,000 well-rested Government troops advanced downwind across the Moor towards their exhausted opponents who faced directly into the north-east wind and its accompanying sleet. The Prince’s forces numbered about 6,000 and were in two lines. The left flank of the front line was held by the three regiments of MacDonalds, highly resentful that they were not in their traditional place of honour on the right, held by the Atholl Brigade.

In the centre were some of the best of the Jacobite infantry, veterans of the victories at Prestonpans and Falkirk: Lord Lovat’s Frasers, the MacLeans, Mackintoshes, McLachlans and Chisholms. Weak in artillery, the Jacobite frontline could see Cumberland’s gunners unlimbering and loading their batteries of cannon. Receiving no order to unleash the fearsome Highland charge, by far their best weapon, they must have known what was coming.

And come it did; Cumberland opened fire with roundshot across the unobstructed moorland. Behind his artillery, the Duke’s own front line consisted of six regular infantry battalions; the Royal Regiment on the right, opposite the MacDonalds, with Barrell’s Regiment on the left, facing the Athollmen. The second line contained six more infantry battalions, with yet three more in a third line alongside two squadrons of light cavalry. Out on his flanks were the feared heavy Dragoons: Cobham’s on the right, Kerr’s on the left. All was ready for the Jacobite charge.

Cumberland’s infantry had been given intensive training on how to deal with the onrushing Highlander, claymore in right hand, targe on his left. Having fired his Brown Bess musket, each man was to use his socketed bayonet to attack the opponent on his right front, trusting that his own comrade to his immediate left would do the same.

This was designed to avoid the parrying effect of the targe and inflict a disabling wound in the first shock of contact.

For a full half-hour the Government artillery thundered on unchallenged, roundshot and then grapeshot hammering into the Prince’s waiting battalions. Still no order to charge came as scores of men went down, thinning the ranks and producing frantic calls from officers and men to be released to the charge. Eventually they went off anyway.

The MacDonalds crashed in to Barrell’s Regiment, overrunning the front line before losing momentum and being shot and bayoneted by the upcoming second rank. Elsewhere the charge was even less successful; depleted by cannon fire and decimated by the rolling volleys of the infantry, Highland courage and dash proved no match for regular infantry discipline. The charge reeled backwards leaving up to a thousand dead in front of and among the Government positions.

Cumberland ordered a general advance and unleashed his cavalry. What had been a battle was now a rout. It had lasted an hour.

Jacobite casualties are estimated at 1,500 dead, with an unknown number of wounded and fugitives bayoneted and shot in the merciless pursuit that followed.Cumberland lost only 59 dead and 250 wounded, the only senior officer to die being Lord Robert Kerr, commander of grenadiers in Barrell’s Regiment and a son of the Marquess of Lothian.

It was over; the military neutralisation of the Highlands was about to begin.

The ease in which the Government troops surprised Cumberland, and he surprised further when the Jacobites did not regroup and force another battle, he certainly expected another, but none came, around 1000 gathered the following day at Ruthven Barracks, where a written order from Prince Charles told them to “seek their own safety” and disband. But, for many, surrendering was too dangerous an option.

As time went on, the risks of Jacobites handing themselves in became clear. The mood of the Ruthven meetings was downcast. Many fought on to avoid capture or because the risk of surrendering was high. In June, a number of Jacobites went into Fort William after the British government promised six weeks’ immunity. Captain Scott drowned them in a salmon net.

Jacobites engaged in low-level disruption, raiding and protection of vulnerable tenantry as well as recruitment to the Irish Brigade and probably Scottish regiments in French service, including Ecossais Royales.

Assassinations of unpopular government officers or sympathisers were also recorded. The British government still considered the Jacobite threat to be “major” at this time with around 12,000 to 13,000 soldiers deployed across the entire country – from Berwick and Stranraer to Elgin, Forres, Stonehaven, Inverbervie and Montrose – by the end of August 1746.

As government forces mobilised, significant units of armed Jacobites continued to appear in the field. At the end of April, 120 armed MacGregor men were recorded in Balqhuidder after marching home ‘colours flying and pipes playing’ with the Army unwilling to tackle or pursue Jacobite units that maintained discipline.

One battalion of Lochiel’s regiment was still operational in May – as were 500 men under Clanranald. Orkney remained under Jacobite control until late that month and, despite British attacks, four local Jacobite lairds remained successfully hidden

Clans made concerted attempts to resist Cumberland and his men with around a dozen chiefs meeting at Mortlaig in early May. At the meeting… they entered into a bond for their mutual defence and agreed never to lay down their arms, or make a general peace without the consent of the whole,” according to an 1832 account by James Browne.

“By the bond of association, the chiefs agreed…to raise on behalf of the prince and in defence of their country, as many able-bodied armed men as they could on their respective properties.”

Around 600 men gathered later that month across the north and west but the clans “ultimately did not have the time or morale to raise or retain enough men in the field.

Although a unified response failed to materialise, Jacobites remained active across Scotland. Jacobite expresses – the non-stop delivery of letters by horse – continued until August. A British regiment was deployed across Banffshire in the summer of 1746 with insurgents reported in Argyll that September.

Arms were surrendered in the Mearns right into the summer of 1748. British atrocities were carried out against innocent victims, but there were plenty of continuing Jacobite threats and remained so for some time, this led to the building of roads and bridges, to make it easier for troops to be deployed into the heart of the country, many still used to this day, these projects and the act of proscription meant the end of the old Highland way of life.

Many of us have made our pilgrimages to Culloden to pay our respects to those that died that day, and to the commemorations, both on the day, and at the one at midnight the night before, I hope you all take a moment and remember the brave men who fell that day and afterwards…………

#scotland #scottish #history #'45 uprising #jacobites #battle

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catherinetheprincessofwales · 11 months

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Capturing History and Tradition: Prince Michael of Kent's Royal Portrait for the Coronation of King Charles III by Rory Lewis.

"On May 6, 2023, the British Royal Family gathered at Westminster Abbey to witness the historic Coronation of King Charles III and Queen Camilla. Among the distinguished guests were H.R.H Prince Michael of Kent and Princess Michael of Kent, who graced the occasion with their regal presence. Prince Michael, a member of the British Royal Family, holds a significant place in the lineage, being a paternal first cousin of Queen Elizabeth II and a grandson of King George V and Queen Mary. Prior to the grand event, a unique portrait of Prince Michael was commissioned at the London Studio, evoking a sense of history and tradition.

Prince Michael of Kent bears an uncanny resemblance to his great grandfather, Edward VII. Inspired by a portrait from Edward VII's era, the decision was made to capture a profile shot reminiscent of the king's military portraits. The chosen approach, with its harsh lighting, aimed to maintain a certain level of intensity while highlighting Prince Michael's distinguished features.

As Colonel of the King's Royal Hussars, Prince Michael's first set of portraits featured him adorned in his regimental uniform. Against a crimson backdrop, the color of royalty, the portrait not only paid tribute to the significance of the occasion but also represented the distinctive trousers and peak cap of the King's Royal Hussars. This unique feature, bestowed upon the regiment by Prince Albert, stemmed from their exceptional performance as his escort during his wedding procession.

For the second set of portraits, Prince Michael changed into his Household frock coat, symbolizing his position within the royal household. Set against a black backdrop and illuminated with harsher lighting, the intention was to create a more dramatic and emotionally charged image. Utilizing intense chiaroscuro, the portrait sought to evoke a sense of mystery and dutiful devotion.

The Royal portrait sitting proved to be a smooth and enjoyable experience, enabling the artist to capture history and tradition in a single frame. The artist's goal was to encapsulate the essence of Prince Michael's lineage and the significant roles he has played within the British monarchy. The result is a testament to the artist's skill and the subject's commitment to preserving the legacy of the Royal Family.

Prince Michael of Kent's portrait for the Coronation of King Charles III and Queen Camilla embodies the merging of history, tradition, and regal elegance. From the uncanny resemblance to his great grandfather to the homage paid to his regimental affiliation, each element of the portrait carries profound significance. The artist successfully captured the essence of Prince Michael's role within the British Royal Family, making this portrait an enduring testament to the legacy of a remarkable lineage."

#Brf #prince Michael of Kent #british royal family #coronation 2023 #king charles iii #amazing photography #KTD #my post #my upload

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themousefromfantasyland · 3 months

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A Fairy Tale Rabbit Hole

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is the movie that it started it all for Disney Animation and it's the most influential fairy tale movie ever. Its tropes and its tone still inspires fairy tale media to this day, either as parodies, or homages.

But what less people know is that Walt Disney was inspired to make this movie because of a peculiar silent movie that he watched when he was a teenager.

That movie was Snow White from 1916. Its writer, Winthrop Ames, adapted it from his own Broadway play. An example of American fairy tale theater.

This kept me thinking.

The Wizard of Oz is one of the most iconic fantasy films of all time, and it was made in direct response to Snow White. What people don't know is that the scene where Glinda saves the gang from the deadly poppies with a snowstorm came straight from a fairy tale musical from 1902. It came from The Wizard of Oz, a fairy tale musical "extravaganza", with direct input from L. Frank Baum, only two years after the original novel.

Actually, stage musicals seem to take a slight part in the creation of Oz. The Marvellous Land of Oz, the sequel, seems to be inspired by this stage culture. General Jinjur and her army dresses like chorus girls, Ozma/Tip may be inspired by the crossdressing in children roles, and this was the book's dedication:

"To those excellent good fellows and comedians David C. Montgomery and Frank A. Stone whose clever personations of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow have delighted thousands of children throughout the land, this book is gratefully dedicated by THE AUTHOR"

These were actors of the 1902 stage show.

Two years later, on 1904 Peter and Wendy premiered. This play is also one of the most famous children stories ever. Walt Disney himself acted as Peter in a local production of it and Tinkerbell quickly became a mascot for the studio.

This all led me to think more about fairy tale theater specifically.

Since the ending of the 18th century and through the 19th century, a genre of stage show developed through Europe. It was mostly comedic and light-hearted, mainly inspired by fairy tales, and it was geared towards children and families. It involved lavish fantasy spectacles told through operas, ballets, and what we today would call "musical theater".

It had many different names and variations depending on the country.

On England, it evolved through the pantomimes and it became a Christmas tradition.

In Russian, it was mainly through ballet, called the ballet-féerie, often considered a lower-class, more commercialized entertainment than traditional ballet. Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty and The Nutcracker are among some of them. Sleeping Beauty would later inspire Disney's telling of the story.

In France they were called Féerie, and it was a mix of music, dancing, pantomime, acrobatics, and stage effects. It influenced the development of burlesque, musical comedy and film.

From Wikipedia:

With his 1899 film version of Cinderella, Georges Méliès brought the féerie into the newly developing world of motion pictures. The féerie quickly became one of film's most popular and lavishly mounted genres in the early years of the twentieth century, with such pioneers as Edwin S. Porter, Cecil Hepworth, Ferdinand Zecca, and Albert Capellani contributing fairy-tale adaptations in the féerie style or filming versions of popular stage féeries like Le Pied de mouton, Les Sept Châteaux du diable, and La Biche au bois. The leader in the genre, however, remained Méliès,[37] who designed many of his major films as féeries and whose work as a whole is intensely suffused with the genre's influence.[38]

Once you realize a huge chunk of fairy tale media has roots in family friendly stage shows from 19th century, a lot of it started making sense.

The focus on romance, the focus on damsels in distress, prevalence of lighter tones, the everlasting connection to music and dance.

They may be the main reason why some fairy tales are more famous than others. Some became source material for a continuous stream of operas, operettas, musical extravaganzas, ballets, plays, and others simply not.

And besides the Victorian Era storybooks that bowdlerized fairy tales for children, I think this whole genre of the theater was responsible to firmly establish fairy tales as a child friendly media, decades before Disney ever released Snow White to cash in that nostalgia.

If you have something to add or if I just got something wrong, feel free to correct me.

@ariel-seagull-wings @princesssarisa @adarkrainbow @the-blue-fairie @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @natache @tamisdava2 @thealmightyemprex

#fairy tales #stage shows #ballet #opera #pantomime #19th century

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awkwardtickleetoo · 2 months

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Double Trouble

hellooo everyone :D and happy birthday to our baby boy sapnap!!! 🎉🎉

i know i said this was gonna be out a few days ago but uh…. i may have gotten… a little carried away…. so it took me a little longer…

but!! we shall prevail. and hopefully everyone still enjoys it even if it’s like nearly 7k words long lmaooo woopsiessss

thank you to the wonderful @sleepy--anon for sending this ask with the concept for this fic, this wouldn’t be possible without you so everyone say thank you sleepy 👏👏👏 and also shoutout to @mushiewrites for helping me plan this fic as you always do

and like i mentioned when i answered the ask, if people are interested in it, i’m totally down to make this a mini-series and do a version of this for dream and george’s birthdays when they come around, so let me know if you guys would want that!!

other than that, enjoy <3

lee!george, lee!dream, ler!sapnap, 6.5k words

A sudden knock on his bedroom door pulled Sapnap out of his focus, and he reached for the TV remote to pause the episode of Death Note he was watching from his bed.

“Come in!” He strained, stretching his arms above his head and groaning, sitting up and rubbing his eyes as the door to his bedroom opened.

“Hey,” Dream greeted as he walked in, George following behind him, and they both walked over to Sapnap’s bed. George wasted no time, jumping up onto the bed next to where Sapnap’s legs were under the covers, then pushing himself over to the head of the bed next to Sapnap, sitting cross legged. Dream chuckled at the action, but sat on the edge of the bed. “We just had a question for you.”

“Sure, what’s up?” Sapnap asked, adjusting himself to give the other two more room to sit, and Dream pulled one leg up onto the bed and left the other hanging off, touching the floor. Sapnap rested his hand on George’s knee, something he’d gotten into the habit of doing whenever George sat next to him, rubbing his thumb over the material of his pajama pants as Dream began to speak.

“So, I know we already have plans for your birthday, but we just wanted to ask if there's anything else special you wanted to do, since our plans are kinda an unspoken tradition thing,” Dream explained, earning a nod from Sapnap. “Is there anything else you had in mind to celebrate or did you just wanna do gifts and dinner like we usually do?”

“Hm…” Sapnap furrowed his eyebrows in thought. “Uh, I’m not sure, I don’t really think so? I didn’t really have anything in mi…” He began, but trailed off, his thumb pausing its movements as it rested right in the dip on the inner part of George’s knee.

Just as an evil idea formed in his head.

“What?” Dream asked, tilting his head in confusion as he watched Sapnap’s expression change to one that was significantly more sinister.

“Did you think of something?” George cut in, looking just as lost as Dream. Sapnap smiled over at him, pressing his thumb into his knee with light pressure.

“Yeah, I thought of something,” Sapnap said, adjusting his position again, folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward– to show he meant business, of course. “I want to tickle you both,” He continued bluntly, watching Dream’s eyes widen and his lips part in shock, and listening to George’s scoff of disapproval.

“Wh- uh…” George stuttered for a moment, sounding like he wanted to speak, wanted to say something snarky in response, but couldn’t find the words. “W-what?” He ended up with, quite well spoken, if Sapnap were to say so himself.

“I want to tickle both of you. At the same time. I get free range of any spots and any techniques that I want, and I get to keep going until you each can’t take it anymore. We’ll have a safeword, of course, I’m not a monster,” Sapnap said with a smile, earning an amused chuckle from Dream and another scoff from George. “And I want it to be completely willing. No restraints, no pinning– okay, well, maybe a little bit, because I know some of us can get a little too squirmy to stay still on our own…” Sapnap teased, raising his eyebrows and looking over at George, who promptly threw his hands over his face and curled in on himself with a groan, making the other two laugh fondly. Sapnap moved his hand to George’s back, rubbing up and down soothingly for a few moments to calm him, before letting it drop back down to his knee. “But I want it to be completely voluntary. I want you guys to let me tickle you for as long as you can stand it,” Sapnap finished, smiling as Dream stared at him nervously and George dropped his hands to reveal his blushing face, looking at the comforter below him, refusing to make eye contact.

“That’s… you– so, we…” Dream stammered, swallowing shakily, pouting slightly as he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. “You just…” He closed his eyes, letting out a soft breath, looking back down at Sapnap with pinched eyebrows. “I-I thought you would’ve picked, like… watching a movie or something.”

“Well, you thought wrong, baby boy,” Sapnap teased, giggling at the way the pet name made Dream’s cheeks turn a light pink color. There was a moment of silence again, before Dream continued.

“And that’s… that’s really what you want?”

“It’s really what I want,” Sapnap said confidently, watching as Dream looked over to George, raising his eyebrows. George’s lips parted, a subtle pout still on his face, and he let out an uncertain sigh, shrugging his shoulders in a way that would be just barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for his reaction.

George seemed more uncertain of his answer than Dream, though he wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable with the idea. Dream, who knew George better than George knew himself sometimes, seemed to make the decision for him, a mischievous smile gracing his lips as he turned back to Sapnap.

“Okay.”

“WHAT?!” George yelped, voice squeaky, curling in on himself in both embarrassment and nerves.

“You’ll do it?” Sapnap asked, the same mischievous smile on his own face.

“We’ll do it.” Dream nodded, smiling as he watched George shift against the pillows.

“NO?! No, no! We will not! We’re not– I’m not doing that, no!”

“George,” Sapnap said firmly, looking over at him, making him freeze in his place under Sapnap’s knowing look. “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. Just say the words. We won’t be upset.”

“No, I…” George began, before clamping his mouth shut and letting out a breath through his nose. He pouted again, slumping down against the pillows behind him, bringing his knees up and crossing his arms over his chest. “Whatever.”

“Mm, thought so,” Sapnap said with a smile, earning another scoff from George, followed by an eye roll and him looking off to the side to avoid eye contact. “Alright then…” Sapnap said, moving out from under the covers and off to the side to give Dream a clear path to the top of the bed. “Let’s go.”

“…Let’s go, what?” Dream asked in confusion, glancing over at George, who ventured a look back as well. He still seemed nervous, but he was still pouting and his eyes were big and glossy, so Dream could tell he was fine, and he was sure Sapnap could as well. George glanced between the two, staying silent, waiting for things to unfold. Sapnap smiled, gesturing to the bed, before clarifying.

“Lay down. I wanna get started, I’m not wasting any of my tickle time.”

“Wha– now?! You– you meant now?!” Dream asked, nervousness settling over his features as well, squirming slightly where he sat and bouncing his foot that still rested on the floor.

“Yeah, of course I meant now! C’mon,” Sapnap said, patting the middle of the bed. “Lay down, Dreamie.”

“But– that’s– I didn't–“ Dream stuttered, his cheeks burning, biting his lip to force down a smile. Sapnap gave him an expectant look, raising his eyebrows at him, and Dream let out a sigh before wordlessly moving himself to lay down. He situated himself the best he could, adjusting the pillow under his head and settling down against Sapnap’s ruffled sheets, one hand messing with his hair and the other resting on his own chest.

“There we go. That’s perfect,” Sapnap praised, gently patting Dream’s knee and smiling down at him, receiving one in return as well. Then, he turned his attention to George, who looked back at him with wide eyes, curling further in on himself under the pressing gaze. “George.”

“Mm-mm,” He mumbled, shaking his head.

“You know it’s your turn.”

“I can’t.”

“C’mon, Georgie, you know you’re gonna let me,” Sapnap coaxed, sitting up on his knees and resting one hand on George’s knee. “Don’t try to start a fight you know you’ll lose.”

“I’m not–! It’s not that, it’s just– I just– Sapnap, c’mon–“ George stammered, squirming in his seat, looking up at Sapnap with wide eyes as the younger boy began to push in closer. He loomed over George, making him lean further back into the pillows but not budge to lay down yet, the proximity making his lip tremble nervously as he took in a shaky breath. “Sap– Sapnap…”

“You know what I have to do.”

“No, Sapnap, pl–EASE–!” George yelped as Sapnap suddenly grabbed his ankles, yanking him forward by his legs and pulling him down the bed to be almost flat. “NO, don’t! Stop, STOP!” He protested, yelling and complaining, frantically trying to push himself up, bending his legs to put his knees between him and Sapnap’s bodies to keep the distance.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Sapnap threatened when George managed to prop himself up on his elbows and slide back. He grabbed George again, this time by his hips, and pulled him back down flat, swatting his hands away every time they tried to grab him.

“No, nonono, NO! SAPNAP!” George continued to yell, much to the entertainment of the other two, and Sapnap giggled as he wrapped his arms around George’s calves, shifting him down to lay on an even level with Dream. “LET GO, let go, let go, let go!” George tried everything to yank his legs free, attempting to pull, push, turn to either side, but nothing worked. Soon enough, Sapnap was pushing George’s legs against the bed and throwing himself over him, straddling his thighs and keeping him fully pinned. “NO! No, no! Sapnap! C’monnnnn, Sapnaaaap…” George whined, groaning in frustration, still arching his back as he pushed at Sapnap’s legs and bucked his hips up.

“Hey,” Sapnap said firmly, grabbing George’s wrists and pinning them to the bed by his sides, making him gasp and stare up at him, wide eyed. “Are you done?” He asked, and George twisted his wrists in his hold, not budging at all.

“Wh– I…” He clamped his mouth shut and nodded.

“Are you gonna behave yourself?”

“Mhm.” Another nod, and Sapnap smiled and let go of his wrists, watching George immediately cross his arms over his chest and pout.

“Good. Now quick ground rules before we start, like I said, I get to do whatever I want, however I want it, and you have to let me. Okay?” He said, earning an eye roll from George, but a nod and hum in understanding from both of them. “Good. And whenever you want me to stop, for any reason, whenever you’re ready to be done, you say, uh…” Sapnap thought for a moment, deciding on a safeword. “I dunno, you say ‘minecraft’, does that work? Safe word is minecraft?” George scoffed, letting out a quiet laugh at the silly choice, but he nodded and hummed anyway.

“Minecraft is good,” George said.

“Yeah, minecraft works,” Dream agreed, smiling up at Sapnap. Sapnap smiled and laughed as well, nodding his own head.

“Alright, perfect.” With that, Sapnap’s smile turned evil, and his hands were immediately on Dream’s sides, scratching his nails over the area on top of his shirt, adding in a few pinches and pokes here and there to make Dream squirm more. Dream gasped, the smile on his face turning bashful before he broke into a wide, toothy grin, his giggles and squeaky laughter spilling out despite his attempts to stop it.

“Oh, gohohod…” He said as he tensed his shoulders. Instinctively, his hands flew to grab Sapnap’s, yanking them away from his sides, but this only stopped him for about one second before they returned to continue their motions anyway. “Ah!” He gasped again, then grabbed the hands again, pulling them away, but still, they just jumped back into action. “Naha! No, nohoho, no!” This happened a few more times, Dream’s giggles growing more frantic each time, until Sapnap spoke up.

“Hey. No. None of that today, you have to let me,” He reprimanded softly, making Dream groan and cover his face with his hands for a moment before dropping them down on the bed and gripping the sheets in his hands. “See? Not so hard, is it?”

“Fuhuck yohouohou! You knohow thahat’s not truhuhuhue!” Dream replied, making Sapnap giggle and nod, and he decided to form his hands into claws and scratch at Dream’s sides that way instead, even slipping under his shirt to scratch and poke at his bare skin instead, making him squeal and arch his back. “OH, fuhuhuck! Gohohod, NOHOHO!” Dream’s laughter grew louder when Sapnap skittered his fingers over the sides of his tummy, his hips jolting and his knees drumming against the bed underneath him, making the whole mattress shake with his movements. Sapnap chuckled, tweaking the center of Dream’s ribs, making him squeal as his hands grabbed onto his wrists again.

“Hey,” Sapnap began, but Dream only squeezed tighter, not pulling them away but just holding on, even as the fingers went back to scratching cruelly at his sides.

“I knohow, I know Ihihi know I knohohow,” Dream mumbled through his laughter, biting his lip and letting out a quiet whimper before breaking down again. He squeezed his eyes shut, his giggles turning breathy as Sapnap’s fingers migrated downwards, scratching ever so gently on the sides of his lower tummy. “Sahahapnahahap!” He whined, knowing the other boy was aware of how bad that spot was, but Sapnap simply smiled and kept going.

Until Sapnap felt the hips underneath him shift, and he heard a small sound from the boy they belonged to. He slowed his hands to a stop, looking down at George, just in time to watch him turn his head away and close his eyes, attempting to keep his cool. Dream’s laughter fizzled out to soft residual giggles, quiet enough that George knew something had changed. He blinked his eyes open, starting to turn his head back, stopped when he caught Sapnap’s gaze staring down at him with a knowing smile on his face. He shut his eyes again and groaned, tilting his head back exasperatedly.

“What?” He mumbled, pout still present on his lips, but his fidgety hands still moved to rest on Sapnap’s knees, the contact clearly helping calm him as he swallowed his nerves and waited for a reply.

“Does someone want my attention?” Sapnap asked teasingly, and George immediately whined and squirmed at the question, his hips shifting as much as they could with Sapnap still sitting on top of his thighs. “I think my kitten might feel a little left out.”

“Shut upppp,” He protested, but he didn’t deny the accusation. Sapnap cooed, making him whine again, turning his head to the side and trying to hide in the pillows as much as he could. “I hate you.”

“Aww, it’s okay, George, I didn’t forget about you,” Sapnap reassured, pushing his hands up under George’s shirt now, quickly choosing his first choice spot. His palms rested on George’s sides, fingers curled around his torso, and his thumbs rested perfectly in the dip of his waist. Then, he curled his thumbs, using his nails to scratch right at that spot, as lightly as he could.

“Nohoho, no, nonono, nohot that–!” George protested, his hands gripping Sapnap’s knees even tighter, breathing heavily through his nose. He tensed up, his entire body going rigid and still, determined to hold his laughter in. His hands jumped up, grabbing onto Sapnap’s wrists and trying to pull him away, but the way his hands curled around his sides made his grip nearly impossible to loosen. “Sapnap, noho!”

This spot– perfectly in the dip of his waist– had always been one of Sapnap’s favorite ways to torment the poor man. It wasn’t his worst spot by any means, it probably wouldn’t even make the top ten, but both of them knew that it was the exact spot where, if Sapnap stayed there for an extended period of time, it would very, very quickly become completely unbearable.

Which was exactly Sapnap’s goal. And it took all of thirty seconds to start breaking down the wall George held up with all his might.

“Sahahap–“ He warned, biting his lip, his giggles starting to escape between whimpers and squirms. Once his squirming started, he couldn’t seem to stop, leaning away from whichever side felt worse and pushing into the opposite, repeating the motion over and over again. The same thing happened with his laughter, and once the first breakthrough was made, it wasn’t possible for him to home anything else in. “Oh myhy gohohohohod, oh my gohohod, stohop! Stohohop, I cahahan’t!”

“Does Dream even know about this spot?” Sapnap asked, looking over at Dream and getting an enthusiastic nod in response, his smile widening at the sight of George already getting lost to the tickles so early on.

"I dohohon't knohow! I don't knohohohow!" George responded without thinking, his laughter picking up further, growing more and more frantic as Sapnap kept going. His brain felt numb already, his head heavy when he tried to move it, like it was filled with lead. He was dizzy- this spot made him dizzy, the absolutely maddening sensation that just kept growing and growing, constant in that one tiny, tiny area, it made him feel light headed.

“Yes, you most certainly do, Georgie,” Dream said, but he knew George likely wouldn’t even process what he was saying. His hips bucked up suddenly, his laughter turning into more squeals and labored breathing as he truly hit the point of no return for one of the tiniest, most specific spots he had.

“NO, plehehehease! Plehease, Sahahap, PLEHEASE– I cahahan’t!” George begged, smacking his hands against the bed, before grabbing Sapnap’s hands again and pulling. He got nowhere, so he wrapped his hands around Sapnap’s thumbs to stop him instead, which worked for barely a few seconds.

“Hey!” Sapnap scolded, shifting his hands, now using his pointer fingers to dig in harshly to the same spot.

“AH! NOHOHOHO!” George squealed, shaking his head frantically, squeezing Sapnap tighter and squirming under his evil fingers. “SAPNAHAHAP!”

“What did we say about letting me do what I want?!”

“I’M SOHORRYHYHY! Plehehehease!” George begged, and Sapnap decided to finally take some pity on him, pulling his hands away and giving him a moment to breathe. “Oh my gohod…”

“You okay?” Dream asked softly, reaching over and taking one of George’s hands in his, smiling when George laced their fingers together and squeezed.

“Yeah…” He said, bringing his other hand up to run through his hair, dropping it next to his head afterwards.

“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna keep going,” Sapnap said, and without any further warning, he had a hand on both of their tummies, clawing at them over the t-shirts at the same time.

“AH– nahaha!” Dream immediately let out a squeal, maybe the most adorable sound Sapnap had ever heard, as he slammed his free hand over his mouth and yanked his other away from George’s to cover as much of his tummy as he could manage. Sapnap didn’t let this stop him, though, and he instead just settled on scratching his nails all around Dream’s hand, getting wherever he couldn’t cover, even as he kept moving his hand around to try to stop him. “No– ah! Sahap! Noho, Sahapnahap! No– NO! Stohohop ihihit! Stohohohop!” Dream kept up his squealing and squirming, batting at Sapnap’s hand,his legs kicking out against the bed as he giggled freely.

“I can’t stop when you’re so cute!” Sapnap teased, and Dream shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut again.

Sapnap turned his attention to George, who had covered his face with both hands to try and hide his reactions, clearly embarrassed by how breathy and high-pitched his gasps and giggles were. His tummy fluttered with each touch of Sapnap’s nails, his hips jumping as he flinched and squirmed away from the hand.

“This is really getting to you, isn’t it?”

“Shuhuhut uhup!” George whined, and suddenly both hands were clawing at his tummy instead. “AH! Sahahapnahap!” He squealed, sliding his hands up and grabbing his hair, clearly trying his best not to grab at Sapnap’s hands to stop him. Sapnap heard Dream giggle, and suddenly he switched to clawing at Dream’s tummy with both hands instead.

“OH– gohohod, noho waharnihihing?!” Dream yelled, jumping at the sudden change.

“Hm… nope!” Sapnap jumped back to George, making him squeal and whine again, shaking his head and reaching down to grab at Sapnap’s legs again, still squirming his hips and taking in grateful breaths when he went back to Dream a few seconds later. Though his relief didn’t last long, as the hands inevitably came back to him again.

“Nohoho, Sahap!” George whined, finally breaking and swatting at his hands. “Stahay over thehehere! Stahahay thehere!”

“Stay here? Okay!” Sapnap teased, making George shake his head helplessly.

“Nahahaha!” Sapnap was thrilled with how pliant he had managed to get George already, knowing his weakened and whining state would help him out immensely in the future. Still, he decided to take some pity on him.

“Yeah, you’re right, I have to give Dream another turn, don’t I?”

“Yehehes, yes!”

“Noho!” Dream giggled nervously, crossing his arms over his tummy and trying to protect the area as much as he could. Sapnap giggled, pulling back his hands, giving them both a moment to breathe. After he felt the time was sufficient, he spoke again, this time to Dream.

“Hey,” He said quietly, resting his hands on Dream’s arms, getting his attention. “Lift these up.”

“What?!” He asked in shock, his eyes wide as he tensed his arms to his sides instead. “No!”

“C’mon, Dreamie. I know you can do it, you’ve done it for me before.” Sapnap pushed on Dream’s arms, and he watched Dream’s eyes soften, seemingly considering his options. “C’mon. Put your arms behind your head for me.”

“But, I–“ He tried to fight, but the smile on Sapnap’s face was too caring for him to want to say no, as well as a reminder that he promised to let Sapnap do whatever he wanted. He sighed, crossing his arms behind his head and laying back against them, shifting around to get comfortable before looking up at Sapnap, and the excited look he had made everything worth it.

“Thank you, Dreamie,” Sapnap said, before gently scratching at Dream’s underarms, giggling along with him as he immediately tensed up and began to squirm.

“Gohohod…” He mumbled, bending his knees and swaying them in the air to keep his upper body still. “Thihis suhuhucks.”

“I know, but I’m really happy you’re letting me do it,” Sapnap said sweetly, making Dream whine and bend his elbows in to try and hide his face. Sapnap chuckled, gently trailing his wiggling fingers all the way down Dream’s sides, then back up again, over his ribs, sides, above his hips, and back to his underarms where he stayed for a moment longer. “This is good.”

“Shuhut uhup.” Suddenly, there were two fingers digging into Dream’s highest ribs on each side, making him yell out in shock and slam his arms down. “AHAHA, WHYHYHY?!” He asked, completely caught off guard, grabbing Sapnap’s hands and pulling him off, wrapping his arms around himself so he could breathe while Sapnap laughed at his reaction.

“I just wanted to see what would happen,” Sapnap explained, getting an eye roll and an amused smile from Dream, before he turned his attention back to George. “Your turn now.”

“What?! No, no, I can’t, no you–“ George denied, shaking his head, crossing his arms over his chest and holding his opposite shoulders to keep himself closed off. “Noho, you know I– you know–“

“Georgiiieee…” Sapnap sang, mirroring George’s position just to mock him. “You know you promised to let me do whatever I want.”

“But I–“

“Arms. Up.” Sapnap grabbed George’s elbows, pushing on them, but George just clamped them down tighter.

“Noho! No, no, plehease, don’t, Sapnahahap, DON’T–“ George continued to fight, pushing against Sapnap’s strength until his arms shook, but he could only go for so long. Sapnap was quickly able to pin his elbows down next to his head, squeezing his arms as he did.

“There!”

“C’monohon, that’s not fair!”

“You’re right, it’s not. You’re supposed to keep them there. So keep them here.”

“Noho!” George yelled, slamming them down against his sides as soon as Sapnap let him go. Sapnap raised his eyebrows, giving him a stern look, and George whined helplessly. He moved his arms again, getting about halfway up before slamming them down, nervous giggles making their way out of his mouth. He groaned, trying one more time, and that time Sapnap managed to shove his hands under his arms before he slammed them down again, making George squeal and clamp down even harder, shaking his head uselessly. “NAHAHA– nohohoho! PLEHEHEASE, plehease, Sahahap, plehehehease!”

“You’re such a baby, oh my god,” Sapnap teased, pulling his hands out and latching onto George’s ribs instead, making his laughter turn more frantic than ever, squirming so strongly it could convince someone that Sapnap was actually killing him.

“SAPNAHAHAHAP! STOHOHOP, PLEHEHEASE!” George pleaded as he held onto Sapnap’s wrists, trying desperately to pull him away, but he was too weakened by the tickles to be able to grab much more than one finger at a time. “IHI CAHAHA–!” Sapnap laughed along with him at his reactions, tightening his knees on either side of George’s hips to keep himself steady, his constant bucking and kicking nearly flinging him off. After a moment, he decided to give the poor boy a break, pulling his hands back and pressing down on George’s shoulders to stabilize him, giving him a chance to breathe and contain himself.

While also making it harder for him to squirm around to get rid of the ghost tickles.

“Oh myhyhy gohohohod…” George’s giggles continued at a constant pace, his torso jumping and flinching with the hopeless attempt to squirm away. His hips shifted under Sapnap’s body, pushing his shoulders up to try and get his hands away, but nothing worked. “Lehehet goho of mehehehe.”

“But this is so fun.”

“Sahapnahahap!”

“Ugh, okay, whatever,” He said with an eye roll, letting George’s shoulders go and sliding back to sit further down on his thighs instead.

Suddenly, he reached over to latch his hands onto Dream’s legs, squeezing right above his knees without any mercy. Dream absolutely screamed, yelling out in shock and jumping so hard it knocked Sapnap’s headboard against the wall.

“AH– GOHOHOD–!” Dream arched his back at the sensation, his legs kicking out against his will and attempting to dislodge the hands. When this didn’t work, he jolted upwards, attempting to sit up and reaching forward to grab at Sapnap’s hands to pull him off that way. In retaliation, Sapnap simply shoved him backwards so he'd fall back down and grabbed onto his hips instead, squeezing cruelly at the area right above them. “NOHOHO! SAHAP, STOHOP!” He protested, letting out a loud yelp when Sapnap’s thumbs dug into the sweet spot above his hip bone, bucking his hips and flinging Sapnap’s hands away.

“Holy fuck, Dream, you’re supposed to be the one who can stay still!” Sapnap commented, grabbing Dream’s hips and pulling him back down into his place. Dream covered his face in embarrassment, his cheeks bright red where his skin peaked between his fingers.

“Ihi cahahan’t hehelp ihihihit!” He defended, making the other two laugh, and Sapnap dug his thumbs in again. He let out another squeal, bringing his legs up in an attempt to fold himself in half, but one quick squeeze to his knees made him kick back out with another laugh.

Then, Sapnap moved back to his tummy, quickly grabbing the hem of Dream’s shirt that had already ridden up to show his lower tummy and pushing it the rest of the way up. Dream caught on immediately, his tummy jumping at the new air in his skin, shaking his head and protesting.

“Nohoho, nonono, Sahapnap, dohohon’t–!” He was cut off when Sapnap’s hands touched down, scribbling up and down the sides of his tummy and scratching all around his belly button, making him suck in his tummy and simultaneously arch his back, against his own volition. “Nahahahaha!” Dream’s laughter was high pitched and squeaky now, quickly turning breathless the longer the tickling went on.

“You’re doing way better than I expected you to,” Sapnap praised over his laughter, earning a groan in response.

“Shuhut UHUHUP!” He replied, trying to sound as angry as he could while giggling his head off, making Sapnap snort. The tickling migrated down to Dream’s lower tummy, and he gasped and threw one arm over his face, holding in his laughter as much as he could. It only lasted a few seconds though, before he broke out into helpless, high pitched giggles, taking in hiccupy breaths between every few as his hips twitched with each touch. His other hand landed on the bed, hitting the sheets a few times to expel any extra energy he couldn’t get out by squirming and kicking.

Then, suddenly, Sapnap dug his pointer fingers into the spot just next to his hipbones, another sweet spot that he knew was sure to make Dream scream, and he leaned down to blow the biggest raspberry he could manage right in the center of his stomach. As expected, Dream let out a loud yell, both hands immediately jumping to tangle his fingers in Sapnap’s hair, pulling him off and shoving at his hands.

“OKAHAHAY, OKAY, MIHINECRAHAHAFT, MINECRAFT, STOHOP, PLEHEHEASE!” Dream pleaded, and Sapnap did immediately, tugging Dream’s shirt back down and placing one palm flat on his tummy.

“Okay, Dreamie, okay, we’re done. We’re done,” He reassured, rubbing the ghost tickles away for him with firm pressure so he didn’t tickle him more. After a few moments, he leaned over George to reach down beside the bed, taking a water bottle out of the mini fridge he had next to his bed, twisting it open and handing it to Dream. “Here, drink this.” Dream took it gratefully, taking another big breath before propping himself up onto his elbow to gulp down the water he desperately needed.

“Thank you,” He whispered, smiling at Sapnap, flopping back down and continuing to breathe heavily.

“You okay?” Sapnap asked, amused, earning a nod.

“Yeah. Just gotta catch my breath. But yeah, I’m good…” Dream explained, and Sapnap hummed in understanding, taking Dream’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles before turning his attention back to George underneath him.

“Alright. Your turn again, baby boy,” Sapnap teased, his smile turning sinister, and George's eyes widened immediately.

“What?! No! No, I thought you were done!” George’s squirming began again, trying to push at Sapnap’s knees. To his surprise, Sapnap did move, but it was clearly by his own choice, and he shifted to sit cross-legged next to George instead. George moved to squirm away, but he didn’t get the chance, because Sapnap simply grabbed his ankles and pinned them under his arm, trapping them in a headlock position. “No, Sapnap, don’t–“

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna do yet, idiot. You’re so squirmy over nothing.”

“This is not over nothing!” George argued, pulling at his legs, twisting his ankles leaning up onto his elbows to try and get a better angle– anything he could think of to get free, but nothing worked. Sapnap simply held tighter, yanking him closer so George’s legs were over his lap and he could hold further up his calves, knocking him off his elbows and back down flat. Before George could even think to sit up again, there was a hand between his thighs, squeezing the inner part of his right leg with absolutely no mercy. “NOHOHO! DOHON’T, PLEHEHEASE!” George screamed, his body thrashing, legs kicking desperately in Sapnap’s hold.

“There we go!” Sapnap exclaimed happily, thrilled with the reaction and how tortured George was sounding. “That’s what I wanted to hear!”

“NAHAHAHA!” George protested, shaking his head so frantically Sapnap was worried he might’ve given himself whiplash. The hand on his inner thigh continued squeezing, moving up and down his leg, staying at the spot right in the middle that made George scream out. “NOHOHO SAHAHAPNAP!” George reached forward to try and pull at Sapnap’s arm, but he couldn’t get a good grip, and his hand kept slipping away. It only became harder when Sapnap’s hand moved downward, squeezing the back of his thigh as he did, his entire hand curled around George’s knee, now digging into the back of it and making George arch his hips off the bed as his leg kicked helplessly. “FUHUCK, STOHOP! AHAHA, STOHOHOHOP!”

“I’m not hearing the safe word yet, George, you know when to use it,” Sapnap reminded, both to tease George about not stopping him yet and to make sure he still remembered it was an option. Quickly, he slid his hand back up, digging into the crease between George’s hip and thigh just a couple times, to make George flail and squeal– which is exactly what he did.

“NO– AH!” George yelped, his whole body jolting at the feeling that was gone as soon as it started.

Then, Sapnap switched arms, holding George’s ankles as tightly as he could in the opposite arm’s headlock, and then scribbled his nails up and down the soles of his socked feet without warning.

“OH SHIHIHIT– NOHOHO, SAHAHAPNAHAHAP, STOHOP IHIHIT–!” George’s voice was frantic, his body language desperate and hopeless, arching his back off the bed and turning himself to the side to bury his face in the pillow under him. He felt a hand touch his, gasping at the sudden touch, and he whipped his head around to see Dream lacing their fingers together gently to keep him grounded. Everything was just too much for him– his hand being held, the attention on him, the fingers tickling his feet, fast and rough with it, not giving George a second to breathe– it was making him dizzy. “PLEHEHEASE- PLEASE, IHI CAHAHA– I CAHAN’T–“ He took in a breath, swallowing against his dry throat, whimpering at the scratchiness he felt and slamming his free hand against the bed, gripping the sheets in his fist.

He couldn’t take any more, and Sapnap showed no signs of slowing down.

“SAHAP, STOHOHOP! MIHINECRAHAHAFT!” He yelled, and the immediate removal of the unbearable tickling filled him with so much relief he collapsed against the bed, jaw dropped as he took in as much oxygen as his body could, as quickly as he could. Sapnap broke into loud laughter as soon as the room went silent, Dream following quickly after, and George couldn’t help but laugh as well, whining in embarrassment. “It’s nohot funnyhyhy! Leave mehe alooooneee…” He complained, grabbing the pillow behind his head and pulling it over his face.

“It’s a little funny, Georgie,” Dream said, making George groan angrily, muffled by the pillow. Sapnap and Dream laughed again, but gave George a second to calm down still.

“I’m sorry, baby boy, I’m sorry. We’re done, it’s okay,” Sapnap soothed, patting George’s tummy gently, sliding his hands up his sides to his arms, pulling them down and taking the pillow away. “C’mon, you’re alright now, you can just chill. Here,” Sapnap said as he pushed George’s legs off his lap and leaned over to the fridge again, grabbing another bottle of water for George. George rolled his eyes but took it, pushing himself to sit up so he could open the water and drink some. In the meantime, Sapnap turned his attention to Dream, running a hand through his messy hair and cupping his cheek, rubbing his thumb gently under his eye. “You did really well. Both of you did a really good job. I really appreciate you letting me do that, even if it was really mean.”

“Hm…” Dream hummed, closing his eyes and melting into the touch. His hand came up to rest on top of Sapnap’s, almost comically large in comparison, but neither of them seemed to notice. “Of course. Anything for you. We love you.”

“Aw, Dreamie…” Sapnap whispered, smiling softly. “Turn over, I have an idea.” Dream fluttered his eyes open and nodded, trusting Sapnap wholeheartedly. He turned onto his tummy, wrapping his arms around the pillow and settling down against it, closing his eyes again. Sapnap smiled, fussing with his hair for a moment again before shifting over to straddle the backs of his thighs. Dream looked back at the sudden weight, but stayed relaxed. “Okay perfect, now you, c’mere,” He said, motioning to George, who looked over at him with wide eyes but slid over anyway. He let Sapnap pull him into place, and he ended up with his legs draped over Dream’s body, his head on Sapnap’s shoulder, and Sapnap’s hand on the back of his neck, running through the front of his hair before resting there and scratching at the soft curls.

George would never admit it, but all three of them could feel how instantly he relaxed into the hold, leaning against Sapnap’s chest.

“There we go,” Sapnap whispered, and his free hand dropped onto Dream’s back, gently scratching up and down his spine the way he knew Dream liked– even though it tickled like crazy. Dream gasped at first, shoulders tensing, but he relaxed even further after barely a second, letting out soft giggles and tiny kicks and squirms whenever Sapnap passed a good spot. “This is good, right?”

“Mhm,” George mumbled, nodding, Sapnap’s fingers practically putting him to sleep– and Dream was no better. “You had fun with that?”

“Oh my god, of course I did. How could I not when you’re both so cute?” Sapnap replied, making George hide in his neck and giggle, squirming to get closer. George always tended to get shy after tickles, and sometimes– if Sapnap was lucky– he’d get clingy too, only wanting to cuddle and nap and never let go.

It seemed Sapnap was lucky that day.

After a long while of silence, Sapnap took his hand off George's neck to reach for the remote, turning Death Note back on and lowering the volume, knowing George liked to have something on as background noise so he could relax easier. He took George's hand in his, bringing his palm up to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to it. George giggled at the feeling, scrunching his nose up and shaking his head.

"Whahat are you doihing?" He asked through giggles, his hand flinching when Sapnap did it again.

"Giving you kisses," He said, doing it again. "Duh." Another kiss, each one making George flinch and giggle more.

"Yohou're duhumb. Let go." George tugged on his hand. Sapnap pulled his wrist closer, placing another kiss, and George's entire body jolted at that one.

"Stohop," He said in a fake stern voice.

"Nah. Bet my beard is tickling you too, huh?"

"Noho!" George denied, but Sapnap simply held his hand up to his mouth with both of his, making sure George couldn't pull away. He then continued to kiss at George's palm, over his fingers, up to his wrist, making sure to scratch his beard against his hand as he did it. "Nahaha! Sahahap! Thihihis ihis stuhupihihid, stohop!" George said through his giggles, his voice breathy and high in his throat. He squirmed at the feeling, pushing at Sapnap's head with his free hand, tapping his toes against the bed as he did so. After a few moments of this, George whined again. "Okay, okahahay, stohohop, it feels weheheird on my hahahand, c'mohon–“ He explained, and Sapnap let him go with one final, overdramatic kiss that he punctuated with a silly 'mwah!' sound effect. George giggled as he wiped his hand off on his pants, shaking his head and scrunching his nose at Sapnap, before leaning back against his shoulder again.

A moment later, Sapnap leaned down slightly, and he could see that Dream had fallen asleep, he smiled softly, wordlessly motioning for George to lay down as well, and he pulled his special Houston Rockets blanket over all three of them as he pulled George in to cuddle closer.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, knowing George’s mind could either go racing or go completely blank after tickles, and George hummed contentedly.

“M’good,” He replied sleepily, curling up against Sapnap’s chest and tugging him in by his hips. Sapnap giggled at the sudden pull, pressing a kiss to George’s temple and reaching over to make sure his hand stayed in contact with Dream’s arm behind George’s head, and they both joined Dream in a quick nap soon after.

And of course, the next day was filled with plenty of glorious revenge birthday tickles– after all, it was still Sapnap’s birthday.

#lee!george #ler!sapnap #lee!dream #cals writing #sleepy anon

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freddiemercurylegendabovelegends · 4 months

Text

Today, on 13th January, 2017

Lord Snowdon, former husband to Princess Margaret and photographer,died at the age of 86

Brian May remembers

Sad to hear of the passing of Lord Snowdon. I can’t say I was his friend, though perhaps I would like to have been. We did spend a couple of days together as Queen (the rock group) and portrait photographer, and it was very memorable. I knew of Lord Snowdon from when I was quite small. As Anthony Armstrong Jones he had married the very glamorous Princess Margaret, in Westminster Abbey, in top level splendour, televised in colour (!) and celebrated throughout the land. Somehow it caught my imagination, gave me a thrill, to the point where I pasted a picture of the handsome couple in my personal photo album. It was a fairy-tale. Shy handsome commoner weds beautiful royal princess. Much later I realised that Tony Armstrong Jones, now Lord Snowdon, was a dedicated artist, a gentleman photographer in true Victorian style, and that his world had stayed quite separate from the Royal Family he had married into. I believe he had a Victorian sensibility in more than one way. A Gentleman, certainly, and a man of independent means, he did not need to take photographs to earn a living. It was his art. And in the details of his practice, too, he adhered to early traditions of photography. He believed that the essence of a sitter for a portrait was to be revealed only in natural light.

Well, this is what he told us, when the four of us found ourselves at his house, our mission being to find the elusive ‘Group Shot’ - a four-fold portrait of a Rock Band, for the cover of an album. Now this was around 1981, about 35 years ago. So the portrait of this session in my mind is a little faded. But Snowdon was a delightful, thoughtful, modest and gentle man, given to pausing to ponder, in his walking around the room, with a slight limp, a relic from a childhood illness, as he looked at us, planning his shoot.

I’m sure Roger has better recollections than I, but I seem to remember us sitting around a little awkwardly, sipping coffee, discussing what we were trying to achieve. I don’t believe we had any preconceptions at all … the four of us hadn’t had the chance to confer beforehand, and I think on this occasion we didn’t have a plan. We assumed that this accomplished photographer would bring a fresh approach. We’d done a lot of this kind of session, of course, over the years, notably with George Hurrell, iconic Hollywood portraitist, and Mick Rock, who had pulled off a very memorable diamond format four-shot on a black background, which not only graced the cover of our early album Queen II, but, brought to life, became the shot that everyone remembers from the Bohemian Rhapsody video some years later.

Snowdon told us that he didn’t want an overriding theme - he didn’t think we need to ‘try so hard’. He said he wanted us naturally filling the space, and he was absolutely insistent that the lighting would be natural too … only the daylight which pervaded his studio, again, Victorian style - more or less a glass-house. He would not use any artificial light. Now I may be wrong about this, but I seem to remember we talked so much and drank so much coffee, that time passed and the light started to fade. Anthony took some test shots on his large-format camera (no 35mm for him) and wasn’t happy. So he said something like … "I know what to do now, but we missed our slot. I’m not going to use studio lights - I want the quality of daylight in this shot. Can you come back tomorrow?” Strangely enough we could. And then it was all very quick. He took a few solo shots of us singly (I wonder where they are ?) And then went for the cover shot of the four of us. I think he only took a couple of dozen shots, very much like we’d seen Hurrell do. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he knew when it was in the bag - even though he couldn't verify that on the spot. The developing of the negative had to be done, and prints made, before anyone could see the result.

So we said our goodbyes and left - and … that was it. The picture we wanted arrived a couple of days later, and it was perfect for what we needed - nicely balanced in composition, with all of us looking quite decent; understated, a little formal, yet not stiff, and beautifully lit by Nature herself, with a little help from Lord Snowdon.

The album ? It was to become the biggest selling British album in History - Queen’s Greatest Hits.

We decided to mount the picture in an unusual way. Inspired by the first Superman Film, we skewed the photograph as if it were mounted flat on a piece of glass spinning through space. So our faces are distorted by perspective. Years later, for the re-issue for Universal Records, we decided to ‘undo’ that distortion, and on this cover you see Snowdon’s picture exactly as it was taken. Pure ! I like that version best. As Snowdon himself might have said … it wasn’t trying too hard.

You won’t find this stuff on Wikipedia, of course. In the anarchy of the Internet based information, anybody can contribute stuff as long as they are citing someone who said it previously ! So the entry as I just looked at it is a ripe mixture of fact and inaccuracies - they don’t even mention who took the cover photograph. Who will write history ? Well, certainly not me … with my memory weaving its own spells at this distance. But History was certainly made in those fleeting moments when we were privileged to enjoy the company of that fine gentleman, Snowdon

RIP

Bri - january 13, 2017

(source: brianmay.com)

#lord snodwon #photosession 1981 #1981 #queen greatest hits #freddie mercury #queen band #london #zanzibar #legend #queen #brian may #john deacon #freddiebulsara #roger taylor

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wingsoverlagos · 2 months

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Mark Lewisohn and the No Good, Very Big Scoop

A few weeks ago, I made a post showing that Kim Bennett, the crucial interviewee who provided the crux of Mark Lewisohn's "debunking" of a classic Beatles myth, was not, as Lewisohn has suggested, completely absent from Beatles history. Kim Bennett had been quoted in an issue of Beatles Book Monthly, in which Mark Lewisohn, aged 10 1/2, also made a brief appearance.

That was a teaser, and now that any interest it may have stirred has had time to die out, it's time for a proper introduction to what has become an unwieldy examination of Tune In's biggest scoop.

I came across Kim Bennett in that issue of Beatles Book Monthly while I was working on a "Lewisohn vs." post focusing on George Martin's memoir, All You Need Is Ears. Checking those citations went off the rails before the train had left the station. It led me to take a closer look at the way Lewisohn tells the story of how the Beatles signed their contract with Parlophone. This section of Tune In represents the biggest Beatles "myth" that Lewisohn busted, and it has been discussed in any number of reviews and interviews since the book's release. Yet the evidence given for Lewisohn's biggest scoop was thin, and relied disproportionately on the word of Kim Bennett, a man whose story only saw the light of day because of Mark Lewisohn--or so he would have us believe.

I did some digging. I found the aforementioned quote from Bennett. Then I found another one, in another issue of Beatles Book Monthly. Then I found him in the pages of a prominent book of Beatles history. Then another book, and another.

Kim Bennett's evolving story was the first red flag, but the more I dug, the more problems I found with Lewisohn's choice to present the Bennett version as definitive. The other supporting evidence Lewisohn brought to the table was, at best, thin. Evidence supporting the classic narrative went unaddressed. His heavy-handed authorial choices evinced a man trying to overturn a narrative to further his own reputation and book sales, not a historian using his best judgment to parse conflicting accounts and come to his best assessment of the truth.

My intention here isn't to attack Kim Bennett or to defend George Martin from an unflattering portrayal of his role in the Beatles' contract signing. Nor do I think Kim Bennett's account should be stricken from the record entirely. My focus is on Lewisohn's choice to present Kim Bennett's story as an undeniable Truth in the story of the Beatles. At best, his historical judgment utterly failed him, at worst--and far more likely, in my view--Lewisohn put forward a substandard work of history solely for the sake of grabbing headlines by disrupting a traditional narrative.

There's a lot to discuss with the Bennett/contract story, which I'll discuss in future posts. My ~tentative~ table of contents is:

0. Mark Lewisohn’s Star Witness 1. An Introduction and Primer >You Are Here< 2. The Evolving Story of Kim Bennett, Pt. 1: Before Lewisohn 3. The Classic™ Contract Story, and Why Lewisohn Distrusts It 4. The Evolving Story of Kim Bennett, Pt. 2: Tune In 5. Lewisohn’s Other Sources 6. Lewisohn’s Portrayal of Kim Bennett & George Martin

For now, I'll set Kim Bennett aside and briefly address another Busted Myth in Tune In: the story of young John Lennon, forced to choose between his mother and father.

Alf Lennon and Billy Hall: A Lewisohnian Microcosm

Along with the story of the Beatles’ Parlophone contract, Tune In’s new take on the traumatic custody dispute over John Lennon is one of the book’s most discussed “revelations.” This story plays out over a few pages (unlike the Kim Bennett/Contract narrative, which sprawls across several chapters), but it demonstrates many of the same heavy-handed writing choices Lewisohn makes to prop up a “definitive” version of events without adequate evidence or analysis. The tactics Lewisohn uses fall into three broad categories: (1) misrepresenting opposing evidence and (2) inflating the credibility of supporting evidence, and (3) creating a false dichotomy between two accounts.

I'm sure you're familiar with this classic tale. It’s been written in nearly every Beatles biography starting with Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968), as told to Davies by John’s father, Alf Lennon. The story goes like this:

Alf Lennon took five-year-old John to Blackpool, ostensibly as a holiday, though he planned to keep his son. They lived with a friend of Alf’s for two weeks. That friend planned to emigrate to New Zealand; Alf decided he should emigrate as well, with John in tow. These plans were foiled by the arrival of Julia, and a custody dispute ensued. At an impasse, Alf asked John who he wanted to stay with. John at first picked Alf, but when his mother started to leave, he ran after her.

The story has been embellished over the years, but those are the core facts as related by Alf. Mark Lewisohn doesn’t believe it happened this way. He tracked down the friend Alf and John stayed with in Blackpool, Billy Hall, and asked for his version of events. Hall’s testimony would form the basis for one of Lewisohn’s major MythBusting moments.

I’m not going to dissect these events in depth here. What I want to illustrate is the way Lewisohn sells the reader on his interviewee, Billy Hall, and Hall’s version of events. From Tune In Ch. 2:

Lewisohn starts by introducing Billy Hall as the "only living witness" and "the only person to relate the events impartially."

I’ll give him “only living”, but Lewisohn does nothing to demonstrate his impartiality. Generally, one would assume a guy relating the story of a disagreement his friend had with his ex would have some degree of bias. Lewisohn knows this, but to overturn this classic narrative, he needs the reader to trust Billy Hall. He can’t show Hall’s impartiality, so he must tell the reader.

“Witness” is also doing some heavy lifting here. More on that soon.

Before jumping into Hall's version of events, Lewisohn tells us how how “[e]very account” of the story has been told to date. With this phrasing, Lewisohn purposefully obfuscates opposing evidence; rather than acknowledge that Alf Lennon himself gave this story, he presents it in the vague terms of "[e]very account." Acknowledging that these accounts arise from a primary source would give them strength, so Lewisohn portrays it as another old chestnut in the pile of oft-repeated Beatles stories. It might seem like a simple turn of phrase here, but we’ll see this tactic pop up again soon.

Framing aside, the passage highlighted in blue is in keeping with Alf’s story as told to Davies. That changes once we get to the phrase in pink. According to Lewisohn, “[e]very account…turned on the vital fact” that John would first emigrate with Billy Hall’s parents. This is just a lie. I have read multiple accounts that do mention Hall’s parents involvement in the plan, but, crucially, they play no role in the story Alf Lennon told Hunter Davies. Davies writes, “The friend he was staying with in Blackpool was planning to emigrate to New Zealand. Fred decided to go with him. All the preparations were made, when one day Julia arrived at the door.” (Davies 1968, p.8)

Hall’s testimony doesn’t contradict the premise that Alf wanted to take John to New Zealand (“…Lennie said he might [emigrate to New Zealand] too…and at some point it was mentioned that it would be a great place to raise Johnny”), but says definitively that his parents had no intention to emigrate. To present this as a proper MythBusting, Lewisohn makes the detail Hall contradicts (his parents involvement) central to the story as a whole (“[e]very account….has turned on...”) He’s moved the goalposts by framing a detail he can debunk as crucial to the story, when that detail wasn’t present in the primary source to begin with.

Then, in yellow, Lewisohn lets us know that the classic version of events "is fantasy." Or rather, Lewisohn lets us know that Billy Hall says its fantasy. It's a heavy-handed introduction. Hall is never given any pushback, and we're left with the impression that Lewisohn wants the reader to believe Hall's conclusion.

Hall goes on to say that Alf couldn’t have emigrated anyway because Alf, “had to go back to sea. He had to go back. We were only on leave.” This is a blatant example of Lewisohn refusing to question or push back against an account he wants the reader to believe. Alf Lennon already had a history of going AWOL, so “It couldn’t have happened because Alf wouldn’t go AWOL” isn’t convincing evidence. Lewisohn doesn’t bring this up, though, and indeed provides no comment on this section of Hall’s testimony. He lets it stand unquestioned.

Here's how Lewisohn introduces us to the custody dispute between Alf and Julia:

Lewisohn describes the well-known version of events as “painted vividly in John Lennon docudramas.” Again, Lewisohn neglects to inform the reader that this story comes from from Alf Lennon - one of the three people in the room where it happened. The “docudramas” didn’t make up this chapter in John’s life—they based it on the words of his father, and accounts of people close to John (e.g. Cyn.) We would expect Alf to have some bias in the matter, but that’s no reason to complete discount his story.

Also note Lewisohn’s use of charged language to highlight how melodramatic the “docudrama” version of events is. Silly of you to believe such made-for-TV sensationalism, reader! Luckily, Lewisohn has found someone who “recalls what actually happened.”

How Lewisohn knows this is “what actually happened”, he doesn’t say. But trust him—this isn’t just another version of events, it’s the version of events. Billy Hall says:

(The “Terry-Thomas character” mentioned here is Bobby Dykins, Julia’s boyfriend)

Right off the top, Hall says that the conversation happened in a different room. THIS is Lewisohn’s decisive witness—a guy who didn’t see things go down. Have you ever lived with someone, readers? Ever had a college roommate who got into a fight with their significant other in the other room? Even if you did your best to eavesdrop, would you be able to confidently say what happened if you were asked to recount it sixty years later? Would you weigh your word more heavily than the people in the room itself?

Billy Hall is only a “witness” in the loosest sense. He can tell us what happened around the fateful meeting, but he has no information on the actual event.

Billy tells us that Alf told him “I’m letting Johnny go back with his mother—she’s going to look after him properly.” Okay. Maybe Alf was broken up about events but wanted to save face in front of his friend. Maybe Alf wasn’t broken up, having just spent two weeks parenting after spending much of John’s life as an absentee dad. There’s nothing here that precludes a tense exchange occurring in the room. The room where Billy Hall wasn’t.

Finally, and damningly, “I really can’t remember if Johnny was in there too.” So Hall admits that he has no memory of the crucial detail of whether or not John was in the room, yet Lewisohn wants us to believe his account is “what actually happened.”

I commend Lewisohn for seeking out people like Hall, people peripheral to the Beatles’ story that may nevertheless add depth to it, but I seriously question his choice to present Hall’s version of events as definitive. He presents Hall’s story without question or criticism, outright telling us that a story told sixty years later by a man who wasn’t in the room where it happened is impartial and definitive. Meanwhile, Alf Lennon’s account isn’t attributed to him—it’s veiled behind catch-alls like “[e]very account”, or conflated with “docudramas.” Lewisohn clearly isn’t treating these accounts with equal scrutiny; he’s purposefully uplifting a version of events that contradicts accepted “myth.”

One final point that drives this home is Lewisohn’s choice to portray Billy Hall and Alf Lennon’s accounts as mutually exclusive. Rather than looking for how these two stories might dovetail, he creates a false dichotomy between them. This begins by framing the role of Billy Hall’s parents as crucial to the existing narrative, but it’s most clear in the utter absence of effort by Lewisohn to reconcile these two accounts. Aside from the point regarding his parents, what does Billy Hall contradict here? His portrayal is different from many dramatizations, but there’s very little that goes against Alf’s account. There’s no reason to completely throw out one or the other; there is every possibility these are two angles on the same story, not two mutually exclusive events.

But “Alf and Julia Lennon’s argument over John’s custody was maybe more sedate than sometimes depicted” isn’t getting headlines. It doesn’t make for a good talking point, and it certainly isn’t increasing Lewisohn’s prestige as the man finding out the True Story of the Beatles. Put simply, Mark Lewison chose to portray Billy Hall’s story as busting a Beatles’ myth not because a careful examination of the evidence supported that conclusion, but because disrupting a narrative would increase his profile and the profile of Tune In.

This isn’t an isolated example. We’ll see many of these tactics again with the story of Kim Bennett.

Sources:

Davies H. 1968. 2009 Edition. The Beatles. New York (NY): W.W. Norton & Company. 408p.

Lewisohn M. 2013. The Beatles: All These Years Vol. 1: Tune In. New York (NY): Crown Archetype. [ebook]

#mark lewisohn #tune in #the beatles #john lennon #alfred lennon #billy hall #kim bennett #lewi-sins #this is long as hell #oop

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