#this should honestly just be its own book

[starsshit]

Nalu Writing Practice-Bets & Loops

I'm so out of practice with writing, please let me know what y'all think

Lucy rubbed at her temples, her eyes squeezing shut as if that could drown out the sound of arguing next to her.  She just wanted to read her book and instead she had a front row seat to a soap opera.

"You let him call you Ever?”  Bickslow’s incredulous voice demanded, ruining her fifth attempt to read the same line. “Honestly, just because the idea of romance is lost on you does no–” “I am very romantic–stop laughing, Fried–” “See, even Fried,--” 

“I’d like to stay out of this,” The green haired mage piped up, wincing when both of his friends whirled towards him instead.

Lucy had changed her usual seat in hopes of a more peaceful spot to read, and usually, this area would’ve been fine. Of course, Evergreen had decided to tell Laxus that her date with Elfman had gone well, which led to Bickslow spitting his drink out and the following argument. “It’s not like I’m Natsu or some shit,” Bickslow argued and Lucy blinked, slowly tuning into their argument again.  “Careful,” Laxus drawled, eyes flickering over to Lucy’s as he smirked. “Blondie’s right there,”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She demanded, sliding her bookmark into place before snapping the book shut. “Talking about Natsu’s romantic failures, white right in front of his biggest–only–failure, isn’t wise or kind,” Fried supplied in a tone that she supposed was meant to be helpful.  She distantly heard the sound of chairs scooting over but was distracted by her own heartbeat in her ears and the warmth rising to her cheeks. “I–Natsu–me?”  She spluttered, eyes widening to saucers. “See,” she overheard Bickslow grumble to Evergreen. “I’m not that–” “Hey!” “What he means,” Evergreen cut in, a smirk worming its way onto her face. “Natsu obviously is in love with you, everyone knows it, except you. And maybe him.” “We’re friends,” she answered with a roll of her eyes that was heavily counteracted with her deep blush. “He doesn’t feel that way about me and neither do–” Her weak rebuttal was canceled out by a loud whoop, followed by a crash and– “Gray did it!” 

“Natsu did it!” Lucy groaned, sliding her book into her bag and accepting defeat as she stood up. “You know,” Evergreen began, something similar to mischief flickering in her eyes. “If you really don’t like him, why don’t you try dating around? I have some friends I could set you up with,” she offered, her tone far too sweet for her. “Just check with him first, make sure there’s no set jobs or anything.” Lucy narrowed her eyes, sensing a trap but unsure of where it was. She huffed, turning on her heel. “Fine,” she succeeded with a shake of her head. “Just so you all–”  She gave a pointed look to the rest of her friends who were listening in, “Leave it alone.” She started to walk off towards Natsu and Gray, or rather, the tumbling mess of limbs that was Natsu and Gray when she was cut off by Levy.

“Are you actually going to tell him?” Her best friend asked, cocking her head.  Lucy sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “I might as well,” she admitted, looking down at the bluenette. “It’ll get the guild off my back and stop giving me–” She cut herself off, checking to make sure nobody else heard her near admission. Luckily, only Levy smiled at her with a knowing, sad, look in her eyes. “I think you should just ask him,” she suggested with a bright smile. “He may surprise you and jealous dragons are never the best thing to deal with, trust–” “Levy, I love you and appreciate your help but it’s just–” She frowned, shaking her head. “We’re just friends and he hates change, I don’t want to ruin that.” She offered a weak grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she shrugged. “Don’t worry about the jealousy, Natsu doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.” With that, she continued her trek over to Natsu and Gray, swallowing her unnecessary nerves. “Luce!” Natsu’s excited voice called otu to her over the noise, the pink hair boy bouncing up with a grin. “What are ya doing here? I thought you were finishing that dumb lovey-dovey book today?” Lucy frowned, crossing her arms. “It’s not dumb, it’s romantic,” she corrected with a sigh. “And I–” She cut herself off, grimacing at the memory. “Changed my mind,” she settled on with a shrug.  He only grinned at her, glancing over to Gray with a laugh. 

“Lucy goes on all these adventures with us in her real life then reads about make believe ones,” he shook his head, his mess of pnik spikes following the moment. “Your life is better than a book, Luce.” “Well,” Gray began, in a voice that usually was followed by Natsu’s fists, “Lucy’s books have charming princes and Lucy’s life has,” he glanced down at Natsu. “Temperamental dragons.” “My temperature is fine, ya lousy–” “Temperamental doesn’t mean your literal temperature, Natsu,” Lucy corrected him with a fond smile. “It means you’re–” She paused, deciding she didn’t want to be included in Erza’s wrath that day. “Nevermind.”  “See,” He whirled over to Gray, a frown tugging on his lips once he realized the ice mage’s attention was elsewhere. “Why are you looking at Juvia like that? It’s weird.” Truly. Not a romantic bone to be found. “On the note of princes,” Lucy began, immediately regretting her decision when both of the men turned their gazes back onto her. Gray looked amused whilst Natsu just seemed an odd mix of confused and something else she couldn’t place. “Evergreen wants to set me up wirth one of her friends,” she started, eyes focusing on anywhere but them. “Do we have any set mission day—” “What?” Natsu demanded at the same time Gray burst into laughter. He was rewarded with a sharp elbow in the gut from the dragon slayer, but he only doubled over as he continued to laugh.  “Shut up, Gray,” he hissed, turning back to Lucy. “You and Evergreen aren’t even friends,” He protested, eyes narrowing. “She doesn’t know the kind of guys you should be around.” Lucy bristled, her own temper rising to the surface. “Oh, and you do?” She demanded, crossing her arms.  “Obviously,” he huffed out with a laugh. 

A laugh.

She was going to kill him with his own scarf.

“I mean do you think any guy Evergreen picks for ya would know the books you read? Or how to make you hot cocoa, cause for some reason you want it just above lukewarm? Or the way ya wrinkle your nose when you lie, or–”  For a moment, Lucy’s thought paused and even Gray stopped laughing as Natsu rambled on, seeming to get more frustrated with every passing second. “And–are you even listening to me, Lucy?” He demanded, hands on his hips in an oddly similar manner to her own usual annoyed posture. “I–” She paused, feeling a wave of courage surge up in her. “So if I shouldn’t go on a date with anyone, who should I be with then?” “Me,”  Despite being the one who said it, Natsu looked as shocked as Lucy felt when the words fell from his lips. He recovered quickly, his trademark grin falling over his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Cause, yknow, we spend so much time together and I don’t want to deal with a new–” “Shut up,” Gray advised in a hiss, still seated next to them.  “Do you–” Her eyes flicked down to Gray, narrowing slightly at the realization that he may know something she didn’t. She’d deal with that later. “Do you like me, Natsu?” Perhaps she should’ve waited for a moment when the entir guild hall wasn’t listening to them because his response would be held over her head for far longer than she ever needed. “Really, Luce?” He asked, an expression of bemusement on his features. “Gee, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, ya weirdo.”    She was going to punch him. Or kick him. At this point, he had earned a kick. “Like isn’t the right word, I think–” he paused, and she noticed Gray giving him an almost encouraging nod. “I think I love you?” His words trailed off at the end of the sentence, sounding unsure, nervous, and so un Natsu like that she completely reconsidered kicking him. The kick could wait, what she wanted to do in that moment couldn’t. Lucy walked closer to him, ignoring the way her hands trembled as she clutched his scarf, then promptly used it to pull him into a kiss.  She ignored the way the guild hall erupted into cheers and complaints of loss bets, focusing on Natsu’s hands sliding over her waist, both of their lips forming smiles against the others, the way they fit so perfectly. “Okay, okay, enough with the PDA,” Gray groaned and Lucy yelped, breaking away from Natsu. Her cheeks flared, promptly becoming far too aware of the guild hall. “Says the stripper,” “Yeah yeah, go take that energy out on–” “Finish that sentence, I dare you,” Natsu’s hand had somehow grabbed Lucy’s during their argument, lacing their fingers together. He turned back to face her, the bright grin on his face mirroring her own. 

By the time the happy couple had gone home, the hall was still awake with murmurs of what had occurred. “You so cheated, Ever,” Elfman groaned, dropping his head in his hands. His girlfriend snorted, but still ran her fingers through his hair fondly as she glanced over at the rest of the thunder legion, currently going through their winnings.

They had bet on not only the month but the location of when the two would confess.  “There were no rules against offering one of them an out,” she said with a faux innocent smile. “Just interfering with their own relationship.”

“Loopholes,” Cana grumbled bitterly with a swig of her beer. Or vodka. Hopefully, just beer. "At least it finally fucking happened.”

#fairy tail #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu fanfiction #i have no idea what i'm doing #i am trying so hard

[themyscirah]

Suffering more than Jesus atm (being a fan of 80s/90s Suicide squad in 2024)

#god amanda waller what did they do to you.... #i KNOW i never shut up about this but GUYS ITS SO BAD #fucking WHY would you take the interesting antihero protagonist and then strip her of any redeeming quality and use her as this horrific #unforgivable villain who is treated as a hated antagonist in her own comics #WHERE SHE ISNT EVEN THE MAIN CHARACTER MOST OF THE TIME #like why are you trying to make me sympathize with fucking harley quinn or smth when the actual main character is right there. why are we #turning her into this horrific villain w a million master plans making deals with the devil and shit. #we are supposed to like her. like maybe not all dc fans do because shes almost always an antagonist in other books but in her own shes the #main character!!! there should be some aspect of interest or sympathy for her. as opposed to just making her like badass or whatever #so sick of this #and its in freaking EVERYTHING right now on god i cant read other comics that are otherwise good (like ga) and enjoy them without the #obligatory intense demonification of one of my fave characters #like shes my no 6 in locg for a reason i genuinely love waller like yeah she sucks sometimes but shes INTERESTING. #this is not interesting or creative in any way what theyre doing with her #this genuinely could have been any government baddie like honestly #dont flatten 3 dimensional characters into 1 dimension (or at best like 1.5) to tell a story you tell the story around the 3d characters. #why do i need to say this. basic competent storytime #blah #amanda waller #istg i throw out another waller rant every freaking tuesday on here #suicide squad #you know what. at least we had the movie #you heard me. higher hopes for the new gunn dceu series than actual comics for the forseeable future #viola davis save me... #need to do a bit of 00s reading still to verify but on god watch this all come down to a fucking new 52 thing. like not to say that i think #thats where it all went wrong bc i need to read more to verify but i have an idea of what rlly did it and i think it was a nu52 decision #but then again maybe im stupid

[rainingmbappe]

The rise of "let people enjoy things" is single handedly the backbone of the rise of anti intellectualism

#i need to talk about this #disclaimer : im beyond terrible at putting my point across #so with that being said let me attempt at it #let's take look at the hate and misogyny women receive for liking a certain genre of books #that is so often simply countered with let people enjoy things #but we cannot let that narrative take over a whole as if critical thinking is “bad”? #booktok has made it so that disliking a popular books makes you the person with the superiority complex who should just let people enjoy- #-things #but when did criticizing actively target audiences who like that peice of literature? When did that become the narrative? #its all mindless consumption without a second thought to the actual material which can easily be credited to the tropification of books #the enemies do turn into lovers and the best friends do fall in love 10 years down the line #classifying books into tropes and then fulfilling that promise gives books an illusion of being “good” since it checks those boxes- #-that the reader picked up the book for in the first place #the act of reading has kind of been substituted by the act of being a reader and just owning stacks of books #we have turned away from any form of analysis or criticism #if it scratches the itch then its automatically the perfect book without further thought #i cant help but contribute the mere existence of that “itch” to how mordern books are classified into tropes with set plotlines #intelligenctualism is almost always looked at as elitism #reading only classics doesn't make you an intellectual individual but looking at any book with a critical lens may it be a classic or a rom #-com does #criticizing certain aspects of your absolute favorite books is intellectualism and not bullying people who like anything but classics #that distinction is so far lost in translation that talking about how a popular book is objectively bad is being a “hater” #well then im a hater #this is not a hate post for people who actively enjoy booktock or the more popular books #im just trying to introduce any amount of nuance into the conversation thats all #i can honestly go on forever but i think ill end my ranting here #literary criticism #literature #books #anti intellectualism

[unforth]

Unpopular opinion: the heavy push toward anti-advertising on Tumblr does nothing to harm the advertisers you hate but is doing a huge amount of damage to small businesses who rely on reblogs to get the word out about their stuff.

#unforth rambles #i have so many rants stored up about the infuriating nature of anti advertising #and how it boils down to i dont want to know about new things unless my friends tell me organically #well how do you think your friend found out #somewhere along the line someone needs the ad shoved in their face or else the thing is completely invisible #i could really write 5k words on how frustrating it is #and how huge corporations and prime adding ads and youtube ads none of that is affected by your i wont reblog ads activism #who is affected are the small time creators who started on tumblr and rely on tumblr and are making things tumblr has said they want #like queer books and xxxxl skirts and indie games and and and #youre so bad at capitalism but youre only hurting your own #its exhausting tbh #anyway maybe yall should rethink your syances on advertising #tho the only people who will see this are people who already know and support me and others like me #so im preaching to the choir #im sorry yall youre doing enough and i love you #i dont know how to force the people who ACTUALLY need a wake up call on this to see this post #i can remember a time when if a business started from tumblr with actual fandom people everyone was excited and it spread like fire #now the minute we try to sell things made by tumblr based creators were categorized as just as evil as megacorps #and honestly wtf why

[earlyspringtranscendence]

ik im talking a lot abt the books im reading rn (this is due to the fact that after eons of not having the time or energy i am once again reading books) but theydies i can happily announce that after 2 unsuccessful weapons and wielders books soulbrand has truly captured my enamoration once again i’m kissing keras lovingly and tenderly (the only way to kiss him)

#just got to the scene where he fights edria song & she's so sweet about it and he's so unintentionally flirtatious #ugh !!!!! babygirl <3 #like dgmw theres nothing wrong w the first two but like they just haven't been for me #and its like there truly is no rhyme or reason as to why because i love keras i love dawn and reika absolutely #and i especially love seeing keras as . you know. keras. instead of as taelien (but taelien is my sweet angel forever so yk) #like its not like i prefer keras to t or anything i just like seeing his growth and his changing #so idk why the first two didnt like hook me as much as any of the other books within the universe #but anyway. soulbrand has gotten me thank god ! i think i should get the paperbacks for w&w to like #reread them and just see if the medium might make a difference #eventually i wanna own all the andrew rowe books but i do also have to prioritise cause i only have the first 2 aa books #and how to defeat a demon king i found that one second hand as like a library copy im p sure ??? which is cool #so anyway i wanna complete aa first and honestly i do also very much want to own wobm very dearly #but those ones are just for the collection of it all because i dont think i'll ever reread those physically i love the audiobooks too much #and i dont have That much annotating to do in those as opposed to the arcane ascension ones #and then we get into the shatter crystal legacy (not what its called cant right recall rn) of which . i think the second one is out #but anyway ive only read the first one but would love to have that one as well obv #ugh. i love this universe so much it truly is so captivating to me #recently read

[theyarebothgunshot]

.

#here is the thing #every time i try to type out my feelings on this it just get muddled #cause obviously if he says he is straight who the fuck am i to believe otherwise #so i feel like okay i should take that at face value cause i mean #that is clearly what he is choosing to share with the world etc blahblah #and so if that is the case then yeah i have to say i am honestly upset #cause joking about being in the community is not cool in my book #but writing that out my immediate thought is 'but maybe he isnt straight though' but see #its not up to me to think that anymore #i have always said #if misha were to say in this day and age that he is straight then so be it #so who am i to say otherwise #so round and round my thoughts go #see what i mean? #all i know is that this is making me too upset for my own good and idk what to do with that or myself. i should be asleep and yet.

[foxcassius]

my new daily schedule is like. wake up whenever jiwon gets up to go to work, which is sometimes like 5:30 in the morning, stay awake for a few hours usually until the 7:30-8:30 am range, stare at the ceiling and wonder if i should try rly hard to go to sleep now or let it consume me in the late afternoon, get up, do fuck all for the entire day which includes studying korean, knitting, watching dimension 20, and taking a nap, wait for jiwon to come back, cook dinner, do dishes, annoy jiwon for two or three hours, get railed, and go to sleep at like 11:45 pm

#morning is the hardest part bc it'll be negative 10 celsius and the bed is warm but the room is not and also the bathroom is OutSide. #so the laying in bed at 7:30-8:30 part is the part that feels the longest #honestly i really probably Should leave the house in the warm hours of the afternoon and like #go to a cafe or do Something so i am not just literally inside for the 5 weekdays in a row #maybe i will wander to a cafe today to do my korean study #i accidentally bought the kiip program's textbook and workbook bc i didnt realize it was the kiip program's #its decent. rn i am just going through the beginning where i know all the grammar already #honestly this part rn is boring and easy it would probably be more cool and fun if like. i was taking the classes. and having conversations #but the classes are only once a week which means it would probably take me 6 weeks to finish what am i going to finish this week #which would drive me insaneeee #i'm probably going to try to do the 1-1 and 1-2 books on my own over the next few months and once i am at like. an 'intermediate' level #is when i will search out irl classes or tutoring in cheonan #t

[baltears]

just had the thought that i think the reason people don't "get" westworld (imo) is that they're not reading it in a way that really anticipates it all making sense. like i feel like i watched it once, had my scattered first impressions but felt like i was consistently catching a particularly high quality of writing and a certain sense of internal logic to the show (like, even if it didn't make sense to me at the time, the writers did seem to feel like it made sense to them, everything felt very deliberate), so when i went back and watched it again i was coming at it from the mindset of "how do i read this story in a way that makes everything make sense" (ie read it in a way that feels at least somewhat close to how the writers would) and that made everything come together extremely easily. all the themes came forward super clearly, all the character arcs suddenly made sense and tracked perfectly, the details stood out more because the nature of their significance became obvious, i was able to basically predict a lot of the bare bones plot points in s4 and now with the hypothetical direction of s5 also being obvious i feel like i know how the show is going to end. but i guess not everybody read the show like that

#im still on the fence about whether the show is too inaccessible. #i really don't think that it is. i honestly just think the audience expectation around it was really off #and now it has this reputation for being confusing when actually like. #no this is just the type of project that should be getting studied in its own college course. this is a book club book this is a rich text #it has So much more sophistication in how the story is put together than almost any other tv show ive ever seen. #like maybe babylon 5 would be the other project i would compare this to. It's plotted like a novel. I would say westworld is very similar #just with very different themes approach and tone #if im sounding insufferable btw sorry! i am

[neil-gaiman]

Hi! RE: your journal about the right for lolicon fiction to exist even if you disapprove of it, would you say it can also exist for titillation purposes, or do you stand by it for artistic reasons, or for the purpose of exploring dark themes only? I always thought you were saying the former, but I just wanted to ask. It's chill if you don't wanna answer this. Have a good day!

Here we are, 15 years on from that blog entry, and I still haven't read any lolicon, I'm afraid, so I have no idea about its themes. The context was whether you should be sent to prison for owning lolicon. What I said back then was,

In this case you obviously have read lolicon, and I haven't. I don't know whether you're writing from personal experience here, and whether you have personally been incited to rape children or give inappropriate hugs by reading it. (I assume you haven't. I assume that Chris Handley, with his huge manga collection, wasn't either. I've read books that claimed that exposure to porn causes rape, but have seen no statistical evidence that porn causes rape -- and indeed have seen claims that the declining number of US rapes may be due to the wider availability of porn. Honestly, I think it's a red herring in First Amendment matters, and I'll leave it for other people to argue about.) Still, you seem to want lolicon banned, and people prosecuted for owning it, and I don't. You ask, What makes it worth defending? and the only answer I can give is this: Freedom to write, freedom to read, freedom to own material that you believe is worth defending means you're going to have to stand up for stuff you don't believe is worth defending, even stuff you find actively distasteful, because laws are big blunt instruments that do not differentiate between what you like and what you don't, because prosecutors are humans and bear grudges and fight for re-election, because one person's obscenity is another person's art.

Because if you don't stand up for the stuff you don't like, when they come for the stuff you do like, you've already lost.

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 5: Home Sweet Home

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

Aprox 5k words

W: Captain Price x Reader x Kyle Garrick (the poly 141 is building).

“I honestly think this is an improvement from your flat.” Ghost comments leaving your bag on a chair. “It is sad, but it's true.”

And he is right. The safehouse you have been assigned to is not ugly, it is just… artificial. Decorated to look lived in, but you know it isn't. Photos of people you don't know on the walls, books you haven't read and blankets you can tell are going to be itchy. But no one can trace you back here.

Ghost drove you here, Price made Soap and Gaz stay with him to have a chat with them. Chat, you are glad to be able to avoid, at least for now. 

The safe house is not too far away from the base, but still enough not to be linked to it. It is a nice neighbourhood, better than your last one, it makes you want to go for a walk. 

“Try to always stay inside, alright?” Ghost tells you sitting beside you. He caresses your thigh looking at your face. “I know it sucks to be stuck inside, but this whole thing would lose its purpose if anyone sees you leaving or entering the house.”

“So I can’t never leave the house?” You ask looking down. His gloved hand still caressing your thigh, and your hands find their way to it, playing with the fabric of his glove. 

“You can, just need to be careful. But never alone, unless it is an emergency. Please, if Price hears you are wandering around alone he'll have a stroke.” He chuckles, stops moving his hand and instead puts the palm up letting you play with his hand. “You should have seen him yesterday when he woke up.”

“Was it that bad?” You ask, guilt flooding your heart at the mental image of Price panicking because of you. 

Ghost nods. “He thought that we were pulling a prank on him, that we have you hidden. He made us show him our room, and then he went to look all around the base. Until I showed him the security footage of you leaving he didn't stop looking around.” 

“I feel like an asshole.” You admit, unable to look at him and focusing on your hands together with his. Your fingertips find their way inside the glove and you begin to caress the palm of his hand mindlessly.

“It was a pretty asshole move.” Ghost chuckles looking down at your hands. “But I can understand why you would do it, everyone else too. No one blames you for doing it, birdie. You know that, right?” 

It is then that you notice the current situation, Ghost is sitting side by side with you. Thigh pressing yours, one of his hands is on your lap with your own hand inside his glove caressing his skin, feeling the warmth. His other arm is resting on the back of your chair, and his hand find its way to your jaw, caressing your cheek with his thumb and moving your head to look at him. 

He is wearing a basic black balaclava, no paint around his eyes, and you can see his blonde lashes for how close he is to you. Unconsciously, you look to where you know his lips are and you notice movement under the mask, he is smiling. He sighs and presses his forehead with yours. “C’mon, birdie. I made a promise this morning, don't make me break it so fast.” 

“A promise?” You ask curious as you look back to the hands on your lap.

“Yeah, to Price. You are not supposed to know it.” He chuckles. “I shouldn’t tell you.”

And you shouldn't push it, you should be nice. But you are nosy and he hasn't said no jet. So you look up to him, through your lashes and ask softly. “I won't say anything… please?” 

He groans closing his eyes and pulls his head back looking ahead of you. “How can I say it?” He pulls the hand from behind your head to rub his face. “Price and I talked last night, about how since we met there has been an… attraction between all of us.”

“Okay.” You agree, feeling a light blush rise on your face. 

“And we talked about how we did a poor attempt at having control over it. And how we basically jumped you, and that was wrong of us, like, you were literally handcuffed when you were with Gaz.” He says sighing, feeling embarrassed with himself. “And I definitely shouldn't have done it the way I did.”

“It's okay.” You admit, still unable to look at his face. “I didn't complain… wait.” You say finally looking up at him. “You knew Gaz and I were…”

“Humping each other like teenagers? Yeah, I noticed.” He says chuckling when he sees your shocked expression. “Birdie, I took the car for maintenance the next morning to check the car's suspension because of how many potholes and curbs I hit. And you think I didn't do it or purpose?”

You cover your face with your hands chuckling in embarrassment, Ghost hugs you from the side bringing you close to his chest making you feel the vibrations from his laughs. “Are you getting shy now, birdie?” He asks and you nod, unable to answer. He then gets close to your ear and whispers: “You weren't shy when I had my tongue up your ass.”

You shriek slapping his arms to get away making him laugh with his whole chest and when you manage to get up, he grabs your hips keeping you within arm's reach. “Let me go, I'm going to sleep.” You say trying to keep some kind of pride. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, was just playing.” He says standing up and hugging you again. “Just like how I played with your clit.” 

“Shut up!” You exclaim, heating up, whether it is from embarrassment or something else, is not important right now. He laughs again and drops a kiss on the top of your head as a peace offering: “Go to bed, birdie. I'm sure you didn't get much sleep last night.”

You slap his arm one last time before walking down the hall, but he calls you again making you turn: “Take this, is a burner phone, so no one can track you through the phone. Price, Soap, Gaz and my number are already on. If you need to send anyone else a message or something, we will send it through your phone back at base, the antenna back at the base makes it impossible to track.”

You take the phone from his hand and slap your forehead when you see the time. “I need to call my boss!”

“About that, you don't have to worry about it. You are now on a witness protection system, so you actually can't just go. Price is going to talk to him, and he will figure it out. Price will take care of it, don't worry.”

You nod, not completely convinced, and after getting a kiss on your forehead you get inside the room, ready to sleep.

A couple of hours later, the clatter of pans and dishes wakes you up. You look at the time and realise you have slept almost all morning, so you stretch still on the bed, stand up, wash your face in the bathroom and make your way to the kitchen when you are met with Kyle's back.

“Morning.” You say smiling walking up to him. He whips around looking disproportionately scared by the situation and you look at him confused.

“Fuck sake, doll. We gotta get you a bell or something, almost shit myself.” He says with a hand on his chest and you laugh at him.

“That's what you get for being a snitch!” You exclaim putting your hands on your hips.

A perfect smile appears on his face that gets you weak on your knees, and he cups your face still smiling. Dammit, pretty boy. “I just couldn’t help it, luv. You look irresistible when you are flustered.” He says giving you a peck on your cheek. “Are you hungry? I brought you some groceries and bought you lunch.”

You look over his shoulder to check what he bought, and satisfied with his choice you bit the bait of his peace offering. “You are safe for now.”

The safe house is far from a mansion, but still, it is much better than your flat. More than one person can fit into the kitchen, there is a sofa and an armchair in the living room with a TV on a coffee table. Down the hall, there are two rooms and a bathroom with an actual bathtub inside. So yeah, a lot better than the old one.

Kyle and you have lunch on the sofa, and after you both stay seated basking in each other company. You can't help but stare at him and think about the first time you were close to him.

In just the last two days, you have grinded yourself against Kyle's dick, kissed and gotten yourself eaten out and fingered by Price, gotten your ass eaten and pussy fingered by Ghost and kissed and throat fucked by Soap.

Truly an interesting Tuesday.

It's not like you had never done those things before, but still, before them, it has always happened after a relationship was built and not in the order it happened that's for sure. 

Fooling around with Kyle was rejuvenating, you are not even old, but still, it felt like fooling around with your first boyfriend. Horny enough to need to feel each other but not ready still to face the vulnerability of getting naked in front of each other.

With Price, he made you feel like a fucking goddess. As if he should be the one thanking you for eating you out. You could hear him moan against your cunt and there was not a centimetre of skin he didn't kiss that night. Such a soft way to make love it almost didn't make sense how nasty he make out with your pussy that night.

Simon was the opposite like a professor teaching a bratty student their place. Any of these men could have you on your knees begging if they put their mind into it, but Simon made you want to act up. Pull his string and step on his nerves. He left you so vulnerable, completely naked and exposed to him, and still, there was not a second where you didn't feel safe.

And Johnny. Oh, sweet, sweet Johnny. You couldn't wait to get your hands on him again. Something about the way he whined your name when you had only barely touched him, the way his pupils almost got a heart shape when you kneel before him. 

But that little shit had a big mouth, not that he meant to cause harm, you know that. Unlike Gaz, the second little shit truly was striking for gold this morning. And now, he was sitting on the other side of the sofa, with your feet on his lap looking all innocent and completely unbothered by everything. 

So calm.

It bothered you.

Little shit doesn't deserve peace and calm.

Little shit deserves a kick on his balls.

But just when you are about to, you remember his face last night when he saw you enter the mess hall, looking terrified and like a wounded puppy. He looked so worried, and he hugged you so warmly. So the kick doesn't arrive, instead, you plant the heel of your foot right on his crotch forcing a grunt out of him.

“Easy, luv” He says rubbing your ankles.

“You deserve worse.” You say looking at his face as you keep pushing around.

“Rude, why do you say tha-at?” He asks half moaning the last word.

“You were going to rat me out this morning.” You answer beginning to move your foot up and down his growing erection.

He closes his eyes, resting his head on the back of the sofa. “You just look so delicious when you are flustered, doll. Couldn't help myself, would you forgive me?”

“I'm not sure yet, I'm still deciding.” You respond, pressing with a bit more force on his tip earning a moan from his throat.

“Take all the time you need.” He mumbles as he starts to move his hips against your feet.

Confusion floods your brain for a second, Ghost couldn't even kiss you this morning because he had given his word to Price but Gaz was happily humping your feet for his satisfaction. 

Did Price don't make him promise? No, that doesn't sound logical. Kyle was the one who started everything, Price must have made him promise more than everyone else. Kyle simply doesn't care about it. 

Price won't like that. 

If only Price got to know Gaz had broken his promise.

There it is, your kick on his balls. 

Figuratively.

For now.

You sit up, removing your feet momentarily earning a whine from Gaz at the loss. He looks at you with a pout on his face, cheeky bastard. It only lasts until he sees you undo his belt, and then a boyish smile appears on his face. 

He reclines with a smug smirk on his face and looks up to you as you get his growing boner free. You lick a thick strip of spit into your hand and start to stroke his dick slowly. You look at his face and he looks back delighted.

“If you treat me like this every time I bother you, I'm not stopping ever, luv” He says between whispered moans.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” You ask chuckling. 

“When my mouth is busy.” He admits, licking his bottom lip and leaving his mouth half open so moans can slip easily.

“It's that so?” You ask, and with your free hand you raise your t-shirt exposing your tits with a little bounce that Gaz doesn't miss by the way his dick twitch in your hand.

“Fuckin’ hell, luv.” He says beginning to move his head, but you pull his hair back and pressed your tit against his head which he gladly begins to suck onto making you groan softly. 

“Much better.” You sigh closing your eyes enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth against your nipple, you move your hand from his head down to his jaw caressing it and feeling the muscles of his jaw flex as he makes out with your boob. 

Slowly and shamelessly, Gaz's hand find its way down your back. He doesn't bother to play coy, and as soon as the hand reach your waist, it goes under your pants and your underwear grabbing a handful of your ass cheek making you whine. 

You press your thumb and index in his cheek, pressing between his teeth forcing him to open his mouth and say: “Play nice or I won't play with you, Garrick.” 

He smiles at you as much as he can with his cheeks pushes and sticks his tongues out to lick your nipple. “Yes, ma'am.” 

You could still kick him, literally. It would be faster and it'll probably erase the stupid smug smile from his face. But patience is a virtue.

So you shove his face against your boob again, and sigh when you feel his fingers travel down your lips. He moans when he feels your wetness just for your disgrace, the last thing you needed was to grow his ego. He slips them between your lips, gathering up the wet arousal pooling on your panties. He moves then to the front and begins to rub your clit with his fingertips. 

There is precum leaking from his tip, and you bring your fingers up to press your thumb against his slip and circle it, smearing his precum around it, making him moan. 

“Let's go to the bed, Kyle.” You half mumbles half moans.

“Let me just do it here, doll. Inaugurate the living room” He mumbles against your skin. You slap him on the back of his head and stand up.

“I'm planning on having most of my meals on this sofa, so get up.” You argue pulling his hand.

“If you are still hungry, I have something you could eat.” He jokes as he stands up, making you look at him with a grimace look on your face making him laugh.

“Don't ever say anything like that, Kyle. For god sake.” You say shaking your head as you walk your way to the room. You open the door and quickly take the rest of your clothes. You look back at Gaz who is looking at you a bit stunned and you chuckle. “I think it would make it a lot easier if you took off your clothes.”

He pulls his t-shirt from the back of his head throwing it somewhere, and gets rid of his clothes as he walks up to you. When he was almost bent over himself on the sofa, whining around your boob, it was easy to get confident and boss him around. Now, with both standing up and as he gets closer to you, you need to look up because of the size difference. He notices it too, how you start to speak softer and your expression is kinder. 

He chuckles to himself, positioning his hands under your arm and effortlessly throws you back on the bed, crawling over you instantly. You try to sit up, leaning on your elbows but a firm hand on your chest gets you flat on the bed soon. 

You look up to him and see him cock his head like a dog. “What?” You ask and it makes him smile with that fucking toothpaste ad smile. “There it is, I thought you lost your voice. You went silent so suddenly.” He teases.

“Oh, shut up, Kyle.” You say chuckling and pinch his nipple making him chuckle as well. For a second you stay chuckling, looking at each other and enjoying the opposite company. Until suddenly it feels a bit too intimate, and almost at the same time, you make eye contact feeling shy regardless of the lack of clothing. 

So you cup his face with both hands and pull him close kissing him on the lips. If he can’t see the affection in your eyes, he can't accuse you of anything. 

He caresses your hip, drawing circles with his thumb as he slowly reaches your mount and you slightly spread your legs involuntarily.

“Eager little thing.” He mumbles against your lips smiling, and you bite back: “I can feel you leaking onto my thighs, Kyle. Don't get cocky.”

He chuckles under his breath and without more preamble one of his finger finds his way inside your cunt as he uses the palm to rub your clit making you moan. Wet kisses travel down your throat when you move your hands to the back of his face, his finger’s movement becoming faster and not for long before a second one finds his way inside as well. You lower one of your hands to rub his erection against your tights, feeling the wet spot at his tip growing. 

Fuck does it feel good to be desired.

Little moans of your name leave Kyle's mouth against your neck giving you goosebumps and causing you to squirm in his hand needy of more. 

“Kyle… please” You moan throwing your head back.

“Not yet, doll. I wanna see you come as prettily as you did on the car again before I get my dick inside this little tight cunt.” He groans against your cheek.

You moan at his crude words arching your back, twisting your face to kiss him. Teeth clashing in the process, but too desperate to care. The band on your stomach snaps almost surprising you, and for a second you can hear your ears ring. Kyle’s hand is still rubbing your clit, but almost like a feather now helping you ride out your orgasm. 

You make eye contact with him, checking on you to see if you are alright and when he is satisfied he sits up, pulling you closer circling your legs around his slim waist and palms his erection; rubbing your clit with his tip. “Are you all right, luv? Need another second?”

“Fuck me already, Garrick” You tease propping yourself up on your elbows. 

Kyle smirks at you and slowly enters his dick stretching you out; he leans down closer to your face and you both moan on each other mouth as he enters. Slowly enters, and then draws back, just to enter a bit more. Little by little, as he kisses your mouth passionately. Your hands on his back slightly scratch his skin making him groan softly between moans, his tongue enters your mouth caressing your own.

This all started as a way to get Gaz in trouble, but honestly, you are starting to hope it doesn't work. Just so you have to try again. 

“Fuck, doll. Such a sweet lovely cunt” He mumbles, already losing his mind, punctuating each word with a roll of his hips. “Sucking me in so fucking nice.”

It shouldn't turn your own as much, such crude words, but you are not really thinking clearly and every word that leaves Gaz’s mouth is like a compliment to your core that makes you clench against his dick. 

“Do you like that, doll?” He asks against your neck dropping little open mouth kisses. “Hm? When I tell you how fucking godly you feel, luv?”

“Yes, fuck, yes” You moan back, curling your legs and pushing him closer, wanting him to go deeper as if you were not feeling him up to your cervix already.

His hand found its way down to your clit, circling it with his fingertip, making you meowl at the sudden extra stimulation. You can feel your orgasm approach, and you open your eyes to look at Kyles's face.

But when you open your eyes, the first thing you see is Price leaning against the doorframe; cigar in hand, a disapproving look on his face and a formidable hard erection on his pants. You lock eyes with him, a shameless smile creeping in and making Price shake his head with a similar smile on his face. 

The focus quickly moves back to Gaz when he starts to thrust more shallowly, rubbing your clit quickly. “Cum for me, please. I wanna feel you come around me, please, please, doll, please.” He moans against your skin, and completely ignoring Price's presence, you come undone in harmony with Gaz. 

Little black dots blur your vision for a second because of the surprising pleasure, almost missing the way Gaz moans your name we come undone following you. You are not sure if you are seeing or imagining when you see Price walk out of the room, and when you try to raise your head to see you come face to face with Gaz. “You okay, luv?” He asks with heavy breathing looking at your face and smiling.

You nod at him smiling, simmering in the afterglow of your orgasms. Only breaks away when something drops next to your head on the bed.

Gaz and you turn to look at Price who is now standing behind Gaz. “Shit.” Gaz mumbles trying to peel away from you, only for Price to press a hand on his back pushing him back against you making you both groan since Gaz is still inside you.

“No, no, please, don't stop on my behalf. I wouldn’t like to bother you.” He says dryly, no vestige of humour in his voice.

Gaz looks at you, making eye contact for a second until both of you turn to look at whatever it was that fell next to you, and when you see the lube bottle it finally sinks in what the two of you have just done. 

Both of you quickly try to look at him, kind of guilting the other to not get the short side of the stick. “Settle down you pair of brats.” Price says, he sits on the back of Gaz’s thighs, pressing him deeper making both of you softly moan again. He uncaps the bottle, pouring a fat blob of it in his fingers and pulling Gaz’s hair back making him arch his back once he throws the bottle back. “Unlike this brat, I’m not gonna fuck you, birdie. But the two of you put on such a show that has me in need of some… release.” He says while he caresses Gaz’s hole with his fingertips, getting through the muscle ring as he enunciates the last word.

“Shit, Captain…” Gaz moans, feeling your cunt clench when you feel his dick twitch back to life for a second time. “Don’t “Captain” me now, Kyle. What about your truce? Did any of my words get to your head or was all your blood down on your dick when I was talking to you?”

Gaz is not the only one getting the reprimand, a new cocktail of feelings is developing inside you. There are some hints of shame, the shame of getting caught mid-orgasm, the shame of Price barely acknowledging you at all, and the shame of feeling like you are intruding on whatever arrangement they had before you came into the picture. Again, the little self-aware thoughts that permanently reside in your mind appear, making you aware of the situation.

A loud moan from Gaz brings you out of it before they can materialise, and you come face to face to the fuck out face of Price after bottoming inside of Gaz. Having sex with Gaz was gentle, with more roll of hips and deep thrusts; but Price? He is obviously annoyed with the both of you, and his hard and fast thrusts are proof of it.

You can feel Gaz’s dick hardening inside you stretching you again. And even though he isn’t physically pulling in and out, Price's thrust forces his hips to roll against you giving you a delicious constant stimulus both inside and against your clit. That, joint with the fact that Gaz is moaning in such a filthy way against the skin of your neck quickly has you moaning in tandem with him. Bitting your lips to quiet them, feeling like they are not wanted, like you are just collateral damage to Price and Gaz's little get-together.

You force your eyes close when you feel Price look at you, he furrows his eyebrows when he notices you looking uncomfortable. Are you not enjoying it? Why do you turn away from him?

He switches his rhythm, caressing Gaz’s hips with a hand and bending down to cup your face with the other. He grazes your bottom lips freeing from your bite and drops his thumb inside your mouth making you lick it. He drops down to your ear to whisper: “Don't run from me, sweetheart. Not again, please.”

He raises his hand on Gaz's hips to hug him on his chest, pulling him close to him, and biting him on his shoulder. With what little space that earns Gaz, he begins to move between you and Price, earning a moan from everyone in the room. 

It is such a filthy scene, so porn-worth, still, there is such a palpable sense of care from everyone involved. Fuck, the moment they get bored of you it's going to hurt like a bitch. 

“I can't!” Gaz moans, the overstimulation getting the best of him. Poor boy getting his prostate destroyed and his dick milked at the same time. You can't barely manage yourself, you pity him. But again, that's what he gets for snitching. 

“Yes, you can. And you will.” Price moans against his neck, and at the same time he drags his hand down your body just to rub your clit causing a chain reaction when you clench for the reaction, causing Gaz to groan and clench as well. 

Is not much longer until you feel Gaz finish inside you for a second time, drooling against your shoulder skin while he hugs you needy of something to ground him. You quickly hug him back when you feel yourself spilling over the edge, and just a couple of seconds later Price finishes as well inside of Gaz. 

He drops himself over the two of you earning a groan from you for being squished by both men, but you only get a chuckle in return from the both of them. “At least like this, we know you aren’t going to go running again.” Gaz murmurs against your skin only for you to hear, warming your heart.

“The two of you are gonna give me a headache, I just know.” Price mumbles kissing his bite mark on Gaz’s shoulder while making eye contact with you. “Get washed, dressed and come down to the living room. We have a little meeting the five of us.” 

When he goes to sit up, you quickly grab his shirt pulling him close and ask softly. “Can we stay like this for a little more, please?” The neediness and clinginess being too hard to ignore.

Kyle and Price look at you as if you are the most precious thing on the whole planet and quickly nod going back to the weird body pile you were on. “Yeah, of course we can.”

Heyaa, how are you? 💗

Hope you liked the new chapter, please please drop a comment if you like it or if there is any scenarios you would like me to include 💗

Thank you again for all the support, you guys are the best

Taglist: @pagesfalling @thevoidwriting @darkangel4121 @tf141glory @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @ghostlythots @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @xinyiline @shadowtfpcod @infpt-zylith @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3 @tooloudarts @dontworryboutitokie @cassiecasluciluce @sodavrr @missmidnight-writes @anirok2

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #cod smut #task force 141 #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #call of duty smut #poly 141 x reader #john price x reader #john price #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #john price smut #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz reader x reader #gaz smut #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #pricegaz

[scuderiahoney]

Glad You’re Here

Oscar Piastri x insomniac!reader // Tangerine Pt. 1.5

Masterlist // Tangerine Part 1 // Part 1.5 // Part 2

It’s been raining where I live this week and I couldn’t get this version of Oscar and reader out of my head. So, here you go- a little companion blurb from Oscar’s POV.

Word Count: 1.1k

find my other fics here, including the original one for this blurb!

Warnings: none

Oscar loves sleep. He could sleep anywhere, could fall asleep at the drop of a hat. It’s been an issue, actually- he habitually snoozes through alarms and constantly naps when he should be doing more important things.

It’s been an adjustment, dating you, because of that. It’s not that you don’t like sleep, you just… can’t. Honestly, it breaks his heart, because while tumbling into his bed at the end of the day is a relief for him, for you, it’s the opposite.

He’s watched you get worked up with exhaustion to the point of tears far too many times. He wishes he could take it all away, that he could reach deep into your brain and press the magic button that would let you sleep. You’ve tried lots of things- chamomile tea, melatonin, warm baths, hot milk and honey, but nothing seems to help.

That is, until Brazil.

It’s the end of a triple header, which is exhausting in its own way. You’re dragging, have been for days. He can see it in your eyes when you give him the update before qualis, can see the way it pulls at the corners of your lips. He wants to wrap you up in a hug and hold you there until you get so bored you fall asleep- though that doesn’t work, either. But the two of you are in public, surrounded by coworkers, so he refrains.

Dark clouds roll in over the track and cut the session short, which is less than ideal. Oscar climbs out of his car, frowning when he notices you’re missing from your usual spot in the garage. It’s odd, but not impossible. You could be in the bathroom, could be in a meeting- he’s not sure.

When he’s made it through his debrief and you’re still not back- which is odd since you’re a part of his team- he starts to get worried. Finally, he asks, trying to sound casual about it. It’s not necessarily a secret that the two of you are dating- the important people know, important being your bosses. He leans towards one of your closer coworkers, asks them if they know where you are.

“Oh, she left, I think,” she says, and Oscar feels even more concerned. “She said she didn’t sleep well last night, I think she wasn’t feeling good.”

Oscar blinks, rubs his thumb against his knee under the table. It’s odd that you wouldn’t have texted him before you left. He wonders if you went to your hotel room or his, feels a stab in his chest at the thought of you all alone and not feeling well. Not sleeping well the night before is an understatement- he knows you didn’t sleep at all, actually. You’d stayed in his room and read a book, a little light to read by and his head in your lap.

Once they dismiss him to head to the hotel, he beelines for his driver room to gather his stuff. Lando’s trying to make small talk on the way there, and when Oscar opens the door he’s following behind him. Oscar stops in his tracks, though, and Lando bumps into him, opening his mouth to make a comment when Oscar raises his hand and shushes him.

You’re there, curled up on the massage bed, tightly wound. You’re asleep.

“Oh,” Lando whispers. “I’ll go.”

Oscar nods, closes the door, walks over carefully. Your lips are barely parted, lashes tangled together, arms curled protectively around yourself. He watched the soft rise and fall of your shoulders, absolutely entranced.

The thing is, Oscar doesn’t actually see you sleep very often. When it does happen, you usually fall asleep after him, and then you wake up before him.

All of the tense energy is gone from your body. Your hair has fallen into your face, a strand across your lips that moves with every breath you take. He’s pretty sure you’re wearing one of his hoodies. You look so soft, like you’ve melted into the massage table. He wants to curl himself around you, into you, keep you close and warm and safe.

He sends Lando a text, asks him to knock quietly when the car to the hotel is ready. Then he locks the door and crosses the room. He’s so careful when he climbs onto the makeshift bed with you. He takes it inch by inch until he’s got you under one arm, his chin on top of your head. He doesn’t dare pull you close like he’d really like to, afraid of waking you up-

“Osc?” You say, voice soft.

He curses himself out in his head. He shouldn’t have risked it, should’ve just let you sleep, should’ve known this would happen. You’re going to kill him, probably- the one time you fall asleep easily, and here he is, ruining it.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, sighing. “You looked so cozy, I just thought- I didn’t mean to wake you.”

In response, you wrap one of your arms around him and pull yourself into his chest. Your cold nose brushes his neck, lips against his collarbone. You yawn and turn your face so that your cheek is pressed to his chest.

“S’okay, m’glad you’re here.” you mumble. “The storm made me sleepy.”

The rain is still pelting the side of the garage, sending the sound through the room. Every so often, there’s the distant sound of thunder. He wonders if a sound machine would help you sleep, tucks it away into his brain to try later. Right now, he brushes his lips against the crown of your forehead and rubs your back.

He opens his mouth to say something again, but then he feels it- your grip on him loosens, and your soft, even breaths wash over his neck. He pulls his head back just slightly, finds your eyes closed and your lips parted once again. You’re adorable when you’re sleeping. The relaxed look on your face makes his heart clench in his chest. He keeps rubbing your back lightly, afraid that if he’s stops you’ll wake up again.

He’s not tired, but he stays anyways. He stays and watches you sleep, even if it’s mildly creepy, even if Lando will definitely make fun of him for it if he ever finds out. He doesn’t know how long your sleep will last, so he’ll cherish every second of it.

On the car ride back to the hotel, he buys a sound machine off of Amazon. You try it the next time you can’t sleep. It doesn’t work. He waits until then to tell you the truth.

He absolutely hates thunderstorms.

a/n: thank you for all the love on the original fic!!

taglist: @4-mula1

#oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #f1 fic #formula one fluff #formula 1 fluff #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri blurb #tangerine!verse #< I have started the tag but no promises on more in this universe… guess we’ll see though? #honeywrites

[bystarlightlore]

first things first: my boys are so touchy & affectionate with each other & it's the cutest, most adorable thing on planet earth.

i die.

moving on...

sweet alex, he’s all heart. prattling along, just as happy as he can be. 

it’s integral to watch our sunshine boy in this scene. 

the book & film are both from alex’s perspective, but there’s one thing that we’re afforded between the pages that doesn’t fully make it on screen — his emotional & cognitive layers. & that’s not anybody’s fault & it doesn’t make the film any less incredible, that’s just how adaptations occur sometimes. you can’t translate everything on screen & honestly, that’s the way it should be. some things can just stay in the written story.

tzp did a marvelous job of pulling some of those pieces from the story & threading them into alex’s movements, expressions, & actions. he gave us everything that he could & he did it phenomenally. i can’t imagine anyone else being our alex. i can’t get over how perfectly he was casted.

all this to reiterate, it’s so key to watch alex here.

we get to see some of his layers. he goes from playful, to pensive, to deeply sincere — “i’ve never felt this way about anyone” — & from there, he shifts into an incredibly exposed emotional space & you see him gather himself, working through his words & trying to share his heart in the most fluent way he can.

“it’s like there’s a rope attached to my chest & it keeps pulling me towards you.”

there’s never been a moment in his life where can’t share exactly how he feels. he’s always been free to do so. for alex, there was never a question about if he’d tell henry, the question was what he’d tell henry, & once he solved the what, he could proceed with the when. 

his mom asked if he felt ‘forever’ about henry & he didn’t consciously know at the time. (i’m a firm believer in the fact that they’ve been in love all along but that’s not the topic right now.) he watches henry in the bar & that’s where he figures it out. the next step is to tell him. point a to b. no detours. 

“& it feels so right”

all heart, all the time. our sunshine boy.

i don’t see fear here, i rarely do in alex, but i do see timidity. so with our eyes on him in this scene, we watch him waffle through his words, barreling toward the inevitable.

he stays in physical contact with henry the entire time — running his hands along his forearm, tangling their fingers together, tracing circles on henry’s wrist & back. i think he needs it here just as much as he wants it.

the most that alex has ever discovered & understood about himself has been through touching henry. he knows himself best when he’s skin-to-skin with the man he loves.

this moment cannot be any different.

—- “what i mean to say is, henry, i—“ 

i’d give anything to hear it come out of his mouth fully here. i want to know how it sounds under the texas sun — someplace as bright & warm as he is.

alex has never had to fear his own heart; even in the moments where he wasn't sure where it was going. after the NYE kiss, he went to nora to grapple with his feelings & he tried to talk to henry about it, but he never, ever shied away from how he felt. he wasn't raised to. following that giant, gorgeous heart is in his nature. he's always been encouraged to be exactly who he is.

the same cannot be said for our prince.

our mythic, beautiful boy. he literally looks like he's crumbling here. mournful, finite cracks in his glistening, alabaster stone. an absolute masterpiece withered by expectation, tainted legacies, hopeless hopes, & crippling fears.

he has to shy away. he doesn't believe or even entertain the idea that he might have a choice. to be so in love, but so trapped that your love can tangle its roots into the earth, but never bloom.

distance & longing take up far too much space in those stunning hazel eyes. it's all too much for him here. no fight or fawn, just freeze and flight. he did it all in expression: from pure bliss, to the dawn of fear, to desperate wanting, to heartbreak, to retreat. (nicholas galitzine, you wonderfully gifted creature)

in our prince’s head, it doesn’t matter how bad he wants to hear the words. it doesn’t matter if he’s loved alex & wanted alex all this time. his heart — their hearts — are of no consequence to the trajectory of their lives. & so, despite all this time; despite everything that’s passed between them in the past year — the firsts & the tender moments, the texts, calls, & emails, the falling in love — henry does the one thing he’s always had to do, lock himself up & run away. just like he did on new year’s eve.

alex has spent a year working him loose; making him feel as free & loved & authentic as he possibly can. he’s kneaded every tight curve, massaged every tensioned inch. & henry has put in the same amount of work learning to allow himself to be cared for. for someone to see his bright places, his passions, his wittiness, tenacity, & sparks.

our boys have grown so much & yet sadly, in a moment, terror bends henry back into an ill -fitting place.

the progress isn’t lost, just tucked away. fear is one hell of a keeper.

& you see him dressed up again in his suit. ramrod straight, prim & proper, the closed-off prince of england’s hearts that climbed out of his car to meet alex at kensington a year ago. a man of few words & little feeling. because there’s too much risk in feeling. feeling leads you to a dock in the middle of the lake in texas, listening to the man you love willing & ready to love you back, but you can’t be overjoyed — because you’re terrified.

grab your tissues, kids. im sure as hell grabbing mine.

#rwrb #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #prince henry rwrb #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine #firstprince

[daycourtofficial]

Forever is the sweetest con

Cassian x reader, Azriel x reader

Summary: based on this request - the war with Hybern claimed the life of your husband. Reeling with grief, you discover that you’re pregnant. His brother and your friend, Azriel, begins spending more and more time with you, finding solace in each other amidst your shared grief.

Author’s note: sadness, sadness, sadness, this one took me ages to write bc it’s so fucking sad 😭 I’m not super happy with this bc I was mostly trying to meet the deadline so this might feel disjointed bc I had to kinda skip around a lot. Also I didn’t tag this as Cassian x reader in tags bc it felt too painful to do that

Word count: 3k

Warnings: character death, unexpected pregnancy, honestly just sadness

“I’m Cassian.”

A large, handsome male greeted you as you were shelving some new books away. His large outstretched hand reached towards you, waiting in the air for a moment as you set the stack of books in your arms down. Your hand gets lost in the warmth of his, telling him your own name.

He smiles at it, repeating it, testing it on his tongue.

For days, that is the only memory playing in your head. It is what you think of as you lay in your shared bed, his scent still lingering. It is what you think when Feyre picks you up, and her and Mor place you in a bathtub as they clean you. It is what you think of as you stare at the ceiling, hoping it will collapse on you.

It is what you think of as you stand between Rhysand and Azriel at Cassian’s memorial. It is what you think of as they lower the casket into the ground, the citizens of Velaris standing around to pay their respects.

You don’t notice the hundreds of people who come to offer you a silent nod, a gentle prayer over you, their voices carrying gentle choruses of “he was so brave” and “you should be proud”.

You’re too numb for any of this. You’re too numb to recognize the hand Azriel places on your back, or the hand Feyre clasps into your own, squeezing tightly.

All you can think about is how his hand felt in your own the first time you held it - warm, gentle, comforting. And how it felt the last time you held it - cold, lifeless, gone.

Being a war hero came with a cost.

Only Cassian didn’t have to pay it - those he left behind did.

-

You’re not sure how much time has passed since Cassian died. You’re not sure if the people of Velaris still mourned him, or were simply wearing the traditional colors of their court.

You sat in one of Cassian’s old tunics, piles of clothes scattered on the floor around you. Your back was to the wall, its cool surface warming with your heat.

You hear movement in the house, but you don’t have the energy or ability to care who’s here.

Someone knocks gently before coming into the room, Azriel’s large frame coming through the door to your chambers. He sees the slightly ajar closet door, and shimmies his way in, sitting next to you amidst the pile of clothes on the floor.

He notes that they all seemed to have been pulled right off their hangers, in a fit of rage or desperation perhaps. Shades of black and red litter the floor, and the realization that it was all Cassian’s clothes causes him to take in a deep breath.

You two sit for a while, Azriel’s wings likely cramped in the small space. Mother knows Cassian complained if he spent more than five minutes in your closet.

Azriel just sits in silence, his shadows gently swirling the floor, searching through the piles.

For what, you’re not sure.

You finally speak, the words hard to form. You didn’t speak much these days - your voice a rare sound for your family’s ears.

“He doesn’t need them to be hung up anymore.”

Azriel sighs, shifting closer to you. He gauges you, looking for a reaction before moving a bit closer.

“He never needed them hung up. Before you he mostly just left his clothes strewn about the room. Drove Nuala and Cerridwen mad.”

You look at him, pulled from your trance of that black shirt Cassian wore when the two of you went on vacation in Adriada. The shirt that fit him so well the two of you did not see the beach at all for the five days you were there.

“They’d complain, saying every night he’d pull his clothes that they neatly hung up and the next morning they’d be strewn about his room,” he shrugs, still confused over how Cassian kept track of where everything was.

“Eventually Rhys told them to stop and to let Cassian do what he wants. No idea how he managed to stay neat and tidy with you.”

Your eyes meet his, and he reaches out a hand for you. It’s the first offer of help you’ve accepted in days. You keep his hand in yours for a long time, sitting amongst Cassian’s clothes.

-

You were sitting on the small balcony of your home, looking out at the expansive night sky above you. Elbows on knees, collapsing in on yourself.

Eyes red rimmed, tear tracks marking your face. You had never felt so helpless or as hopeless as you did now. Your eyes snag on a dark figure, soaring through the skies, its body getting closer and closer.

Azriel had taken to checking on you every three days now. Make sure you were eating, washing, and moving. Honestly if it weren’t for these biweekly check ins, you’re not sure how you would be faring.

The Illyrian descends next to you, a soft landing as he tucks his wings back in and sits next to you. You two sit in silence for a while, the sounds of the night a melody playing for just you two.

Velaris is dark, few fae lights scattered throughout the city aglow. You breathe deeply, taking in the smell of Azriel next to you. You should tell him, but you haven’t been able to tell anyone all week.

It was eating you up - you knew they’d be supportive, you knew they’d love you and help you in anyway they could. But it would still break their hearts just a bit more.

Your internal debate is ended by the overwhelming turn of your stomach, your lunch from earlier wanting to make a quick exit. You hurriedly get up, running towards your bathroom and throwing yourself on your toilet, narrowly reaching it in time.

Azriel ran after you, making quick work of grabbing your hair before you began your second wave of vomiting. The only sounds in the room are your retching and Azriel’s soothing tunes.

His other hand gently rubs your back as you feel as if you’re going to die. From embarassment or pain, you’re not sure. He waits for you to say what he already suspects, having noted a subtle shift in your scent when he arrived.

You wipe your mouth, not wanting to say the words aloud. The words that Madja had told you three days ago, the words that caused you to shut down until now.

“I’m pregnant,” you say, head leaning against the toilet seat. “All Cass wanted was to be a dad. Now I’m pregnant and he’s dead.”

A forced laugh comes from you.

“It’s not fair, Az.”

Your words hang in the air, and your friend responds by wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you into his lap. He nuzzles his head into your shoulder, his breath shuddering as he cries softly into your hair.

The two of you lay there, the cool bathroom tile digging imprints into your skin as he holds you, tears streaming from both of you.

-

Several months along in your pregnancy, and Azriel has essentially moved in with you full time. He takes meticulous care of you and the babe - he goes to your appointments with Madja with you, he goes baby shopping with you, he even put together the crib in your room.

He was your late husband’s brother. He was stepping up, knowing that Cassian would want him to help you. And yet your dreams wouldn’t stop being so perverse.

For the past month, every night without fail you dreamt of Azriel. Every dream was different - some of places you’ve gone before, places you only know of because Azriel described them.

The dreams were weird and disorienting, but you left them there. They were dreams.

About how beautiful he was. About his hands, his wings, his shoulders, his thighs.

Every day you’d wake up full of shame at where your mind takes you against your will.

-

“Az,” you say, a serious look on your face. “Something’s wrong.”

He looks over to you, glasses perched on his nose. The knife in his hand clatters, landing on the cutting board, a piece of carrot tumbling to the floor as he moves to you quickly.

Your breathing becomes more shallow, and you hold your hands out, reaching for his. Once his fingers reach yours, you bring his hands to your bump.

Just as he’s about to ask what the problem is, he feels a soft thump against his scarred hand. He can’t control the soft laugh that comes from him, and he can’t help but cradle your bump just a little tighter.

He looks back up to you, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“I thought something was wrong.”

You smile, “I know - that’s what makes it fun.”

-

Almost eight months had passed since Cassian’s death, and you were finally able to hear his name without breaking down. Azriel was the only one you would talk to about him, though.

It felt right to talk about Cassian to Azriel. It felt right to plunge yourself back into the memories of him - his boisterous laugh, his insistence on touching someone at all times, his presence in rooms.

It felt right, and the babe in your belly would kick frequently whenever Azriel spoke to you about Cassian, as if they knew who you were talking about.

It felt so right, and yet so wrong. Every night before bed you replayed the memories of the day, desperately trying to insert Cassian into Azriel’s spot in them.

He never fit perfectly into them, the edges of him not quite the right size.

-

This was too much.

You were an absolute fool to believe you could do this. To not only birth but to raise your dead husband’s babe. Who let you do this? Who thought this was a good idea?

“Hey.”

Azriel’s voice vibrates through you, pulling you from your thoughts, his large frame behind you. Your back pressed to his chest, his arms helping hold your legs up.

You lean your head against him.

“This was a terrible, terrible idea.”

He smiles, “Cassian never was known for good ideas.”

Your face contorts in agony, a strong cramping pain rippling through you.

Azriel takes the wet cloth from the nurse to his left, holding it on your forehead. “I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so well.”

You scoff, “if I was doing well, the babe would be out by now!”

Azriel takes your jabs, your sarcasm, the intense squeezing of his hand in yours. He’ll take everything you throw at him.

After about eight hours, you were blessed by the cauldron with a beautiful boy, tiny wings clinging to his back as he cried.

-

Azriel’s presence didn’t stop after the babe, Camden, was born. If anything, he spent more time with you. He delegated much of his work as spymaster to support you, even going so far as helping coordinate schedules for Feyre or Nesta to help you bathe.

In the first few weeks, you were able to move around, but you were utterly exhausted. Not just the physical demands of your babe and recovering from birthing a winged babe, but also the emotional toll this took on you left you unable to care much for yourself.

You had thought being bathed would make you feel like a burden, but Feyre and Nesta did everything to make you feel so loved instead. They lit candles, rubbed your back, and told you how proud of you they were constantly. Their words never failed to make you cry, the task at hand feeling impossible if you thought about it too hard.

Eventually, after weeks of sleepless nights, feeling like nothing more than a cow for milk, you and Azriel were able to settle into a routine.

He took care of the babe at night, allowing you decent sleep. He brought Camden to you for his middle of the night feedings. You took care of Camden during the morning through early afternoon while Azriel attended to his duties. The two of you cooked dinner together, Azriel always insisting on washing dishes afterwards.

After a while, it all felt so normal. As if Cassian was never meant to be here for this part.

-

A few months after your son’s first birthday all Hell broke loose. It was a regular day. The sun still shone as it always does, your son was as beautiful as ever. Azriel was holding Camden in the air, helping him stretch out his wings, when he spoke for the first time.

A soft dada accompanied the little boy’s giggles, followed by Azriel stiffening immediately. You looked to the shadowsinger, and when his eyes met yours, you knew.

As if a golden thread appeared out of thin air, tying a knot from Azriel to you, you could feel him. You pulled an experimental tug in the bond, and he pulled back.

Wide eyes meet each other from across the room, silent except for Camden’s continued giggles. You stare at him bewildered, your expression mirrored back to you on his face.

A high pitched noise starts ringing in your eyes before everything goes black.

-

“It’s a bit of a cruel joke,” you say. “I want to love him, I want to be with my mate. But what kind of person does that to her deceased husband?”

You had woken up in Rhys’s office twenty minutes ago to your head in Feyre’s lap, her hands gently running through your hair.

You had heard bits of hushed conversation, and you thought you had heard Az, but when you came to, he was nowhere to be seen.

Rhys looks contemplative before saying, “you of all people should know that Cassian would have wanted you to be happy.”

You put your head in your hands, gathering to courage to say your worst thoughts out loud.

“It feels like Cassian died for me. I know he didn’t, but I can’t help but feel like if he had survived, would Azriel still be my mate? He would have let me be with him, yes, but just.”

You sigh, trying to grab the fragmented thoughts in your head and place them together. Rhys lets you, allowing silence to fill the room.

“It would have killed him having to watch me choose Azriel over him. He would have done the respectable thing, he would have stepped back. He would have been happy for us.”

You sigh, “but if it were the other way, if Nesta or Elain were his mate, I’m not sure I could give him up.”

Your words come pouring out quickly before you begin sobbing. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. His hands wrap around your head, and he gently smooths your hair down.

“Feyre and I are immensely happy for you, despite the circumstances. Both of you. I know you might not feel like it, but you made your own family.”

-

You found Azriel a few hours later in what used to be his room in the townhouse. He hardly stayed here, hardly stayed at any of Rhys’s estates anymore, opting instead for the comfort of the home you two now shared.

“Hi,” you say tentatively, stepping through the door.

“Hi,” he echos back, turning to see you.

“Crazy day,” you say, pulling lightly on the bond. He cracks a smile, but there’s a sadness deep in his gaze that you haven’t seen in months.

He moves towards you, slow and deliberate steps, as if you were a bunny found in the woods easily scared off.

“Do you want this?” He asks, eyes focused on your own.

You nod your head. He nods back.

“I dreamt of you. For months, years even. Since about halfway through my pregnancy, you’ve been in my dreams most nights.”

He watches you speak, letting you say whatever it is you need to. You take a deep breath before continuing.

“I don’t want to forget Cass, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re replacing him. I can love both of you.”

He steps closer, slowly moving towards you until he’s stopped right in front of you, his wings blocking you in.

“It’s unconventional, I understand. And I understand if you don’t want a widow with a child.” You look up towards him, determination in your eyes. “But I am all in.”

He gently cups your cheek, eyes full of conflict. “It won’t be easy,” he muses.

“Nothing about this has been easy, why start now?”

His face slowly moves closer to yours, his lips gentle against your own. His hands still hold you gently, as he kisses you long and slow.

There would be time for passion later, his kiss now is full of the emotions words can’t convey. Adoration, sacrifice, immense grief.

You thought having Azriel kiss you would make you feel like you were betraying Cassian. Instead you feel an overwhelming sense of rightness as your hands cup his jaw back, pouring every ounce of you into him.

-

You and Azriel look out at your backyard, watching Nyx and Camden run around, play fighting with their swords. The two boys occasionally take short flights, only about a foot or so off the ground.

Azriel wraps his arms around you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You close your eyes, letting yourself feel this moment, allowing the sounds of the boys playing and your mate’s breathing to lull you into some form of peace you never thought you’d find again.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

[evilminji]

Ya'll know our BELOVED? Little Baby Man?

The noodliest ghosty boy?

What if he WAS Baby? It wouldn't be the first time Danny's enemies plotting gave him offspring. Only this time it's not a clone! It's a proper GHOST baby. Like Lunch Box.

Who's the other parent I hear you ask?

Pretty human-centric view point there buddy, to assume Ghosts NEED two participants to make an offspring. OR are limited to two! Just cause Lunch Lady And Boxie are a couple doesn't mean that's the standard!

We lack data here! ASSUME NOTHING. *sciences harder in your direction*

*awkward cough*

*shuffles notes*

ANYWAY! The child! All it would really take is one(1) VERY poorly timed ambush attack. Imagine if you will, a cell. How does it multiply? While not even close, the simplistic images ARE pretty good as an explanation!

But isn't that just an ecto-clone? You say?

Close!

But THOSE? Are hollow bags of GOO!

No CORE! *slaps the chalkboard behind me*

However! If you wanted, say, a precious bundle off joy? Well, nothing can come from perfect void! You must contribute the building blocks of LIFE! And what are those, my students, in ghost biology??!

Two vital pieces! The Ectoplasm aaaaaaand? That's RIGHT!

The CORE!

A critical and ever vital part of ghost biological function.

Which, like every OTHER part of the body, is malleable. One could, say, make it smaller. Create part of a proto core. OR, should one be ALONE in this process, a FULL protocol.

Upon which, ectoplasm latches, builds, develops and grows. Becomes its own soul.

Now! Do Not mistake me! There is a WILDLY vast difference between the formation of a core and a shattered core. Between willing life and untimely second death. It is not, and never WILL be, easy to create the soul of a child. Tampering with your core is PAINFUL, dangerous, and leaves you WILDLY vulnerable.

There is a REASON Neverborn are so precious.

Buuuuut..... *pulls out a book labeled "Curses Though The Ages"* we must ALSO consider the famed Fenton Luck(tm).

Consider! Where would be the "safest" place to practice making clones of yourself? A place that's wide open. No one wearing white likely to take pot shots at you while your attention is divided in multiple places at once. No parents blowing up the basement at a delicate moment and leaving you trying to hide that extra arm for a week...

Maybe you forget... oh yeah... OTHER GHOSTS.

So there Danny floats. In the Zone. DISTRACTED. His core HUGE from all that recently Royal business as it tries to digest it. Feeling bloated. Trying to work off some energy, as it were. Then who should come along? Why, the universes BEST HUNTER of course! To say *gun powering up noise* :) HI :)

Like buddies DO.

Danny doesn't see him.

Danny is mid-split.

At his limit, honestly. Already made as many copies as he usually can. Is trying for ooooone moooooore..... when...

PAIN. Something cracks.

He loses concentration. Tries to curl in on himself.

Both 1.5 of him tries. He loses hold of the "clone's" Ecto. Somethings free floating leaving his chest along with it. Behind him, Skulker is freaking out. That was MEANT to be on opening volley. A gentle little "hey, come fight me". That crack sounded SERIOUS.

Danny can't breathe. It's like the portal all over again. He curls tighter and tighter. Feels the crown, which was not THERE until this moment, press down tight and gripping onto his head. Thrumming. And then... something feels like a muscle releasing.

His core is... smaller? He'd been watching its progress, it couldn't have digest so fast... how did it lose so much... mass...

Danny feels all the blood drain from his face.

He nearly died.

Again.

His... his soul... WHERE IS HIS SOUL?? That's a piece of him! A part of his SOU-!

He spins around... only to meet the eyes off a blearly blinking, noodlish, cartoon like gremlin with his color scheme. Who's floating along like they're in zero-g. Just... drifting in a slow circle.

They yawn at him with a mouth full of teeny tiny baby fangs. Then chirp.

That's his Son. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know WHY, but he somehow instinctively... just... KNOWS?

They blep.

Danny looks a Skulker. His eyes hold MURDER.

"You're paying child support."

"......yes sir."

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt