#reader in peril

[yorshie]

Hey, Yorshie! Fun fact: I was the one who sent in the original prompt for Raph with the phrase "tell me it was a lie. tell me you're playing with me right now." You did SUCH a great job with it.

After deleting my reply to your other post, I kept thinking about it trying to remember exactly what my reply had been, and then I was like... hm. I'm gonna. I'm gonna write that, actually. So, here's a present for you Yorshie! My first ever reader-insert piece. (Obviously, feel free to delete/not post this if it's too... idk. Anything. I hope this is an okay thing to do.)

Another fun fact: the title in my gdoc is "Yorshie's Gift" lol <3

---

You would recognize the rumble of that motorcycle anywhere.

No one else had realized, yet, just how much danger you were all about to be in. The others were still hauling boxes into the back of the truck. Only you were frozen, hands hovering in the air above the box you’d been reaching for.

You needed to get everyone out of here fast. Most of these new recruits were just kids, barely out of high school. Searching for a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose, like you had when you first joined years ago. Every year there were more. Kids who had never believed they even had a chance at a future, kids who got caught up in the pretty lies and promises that the clan used to suck them in. You hated to see it happen, but there was really nothing you could do about it. You had agreed to lead this excursion, hoping at least that you could be there to ensure no one got hurt.

The rumble was getting louder.

You jerked up, hissing out an order to retreat. The others paused in their movements to look at you, surprised, and you felt a wave of frustration and terror constrict your lungs as they stared at you. 

Their hesitation would get them killed.

 “Move your ass!” You shoved the keys of the truck into the hands of the nearest member and pushed them toward the front. “Now!”

Thankfully, they started to scramble. Within seconds the truck peeled away, leaving behind at least half of the goods you had been ordered to secure. You really couldn’t fucking care less. You made sure the recruits who hadn’t been able to fit in the truck were headed toward safety, too, before starting to run.

And then you stopped.

The rumble was so loud, now, that you could almost feel the vibrations in your chest. He’d be here any second. You should run. You should run. The last words he’d spoken to you, weeks ago, echoed in your mind. 

“I’d better not see you again. If I do, my face is the last thing you’ll ever see, I can promise you that.”

You knew what you would be running from, but… what exactly were you running toward? More listless days with your mind lost in a haze of regret? More nights alone with your chest hollow and aching? Before him, you hadn’t even realized that you were just going through the motions of your life. And then you had found what you were looking for, after all this time. You had found that sense of belonging, that purpose that you had so desperately sought out when you were too young to know any better and you had turned to the foot clan. And when you’d found what you’d been looking for, it hadn’t even been something you found in the foot clan itself. You’d found it in their enemy.

Raphael.

Then you’d lost him. It was your own goddamn fault, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. The weeks since he’d found out had left you feeling untethered. Floating through the days, wondering what the fuck the point was, anyway. You hadn’t realized just how much he had changed your life, just how much he had changed you. And now, without him…

You didn’t want to run anymore.

A strange sense of finality settled over you. It’s what you deserved, anyway, wasn’t it? You were a criminal. No matter what circumstances had led you here, no matter how trapped you had felt… you were still a criminal. And you had still lied to him, for so long. 

And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. For his face to be the last one you ever saw.

Tires squealed, pulling you from your thoughts, and then he was there. You watched him leap from his bike, sprinting down the alley straight toward you, and the adrenaline that burst through you reminded you that you should run. You were wearing your full gear, face covered by the mask that had been replaced after he’d crushed your old one in his hand. He didn’t even know it was you. You could still slip away into the shadows, you could still- 

You didn’t move. 

He was fast, faster than most people could even follow, but time seemed to slow as he approached. You could see the determination, the anger in his expression. In the tense set of his shoulders. But beneath that, there was a weary sadness. And despite the fear that was clawing its way up your throat, that sadness that you saw was what solidified your decision. 

An enormous fist, clenched around a sai, barrelled toward you, but you focused instead on Raphael’s face. The last face you’d ever see. So angry and tired and sad, and it looked like that because of you.

Yeah. You deserved this.

And the blow hit.

WWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! OMG YOUR FIRST READER INSERT AND YOU SEND IT TO ME????? *crying* LET’s GO!!!

Wow! Your pacing is very good *trying not to cry* I was totally immersed *tears start falling* and the feeling! The feel- *breaks down sobbing* omg what if raph takes off the mask at the end OR DOESNT WHICH ONE IS WORSE!!!!???

*straight up bawling at this point* im fine! It’s just. It really hit me in the angst corner. Don’t mind me I’m just. Gonna slide along the floor in a little raccoon puddle.

But IT WAS A GOOD READ. IMMA READ IT AGAIN!!

Also! If you ever write for the turtles again, please tag me. I’d love to be in your tag list and I’d love to read it.

[denaliwrites]

Don't Blink

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Summary: Going home was meant to be a vacation from all the aliens and monsters.

Part 2: Don't Turn Your Back Part 3: Don't Look Away Part 4: Dreams See Us Through

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp

Warnings: Weeping Angels, babes.

You hadn't slept in days.

It started innocuous enough -- some nerves as you crawled into your bed, for once. You'd assumed it was because you were so used to the TARDIS that home didn't feel as much like home anymore. You thought that maybe, after a day or two, it'd get better.

It got worse.

Waking up the next morning, you were confronted with the feeling of being watched. No matter where you went -- your mum's, the shops, the cellar, even the restroom. Everywhere. All day. By the time you dropped into your bed that night, you were exhausted from being on high alert the whole day.

You didn't sleep well that night.

Nightmares plagued you -- they were nebulous, slipping just out of focus every time you thought you could make out even just a single detail. But despite that -- or maybe because of it -- you were terrified.

You awoke drenched in a cold sweat, covered in goosebumps and with a stomach churning with unease. You felt feverish, but when you took your temperature the thermometer flashed with a perfectly normal number.

Going about your day felt like a monumental task. While your limbs felt weighed down with lead, the rest of you felt light, jittery... panicky. Any attempts to focus for more than thirty seconds at a time failed miserably.

Maybe it was just your heightened state, but you could've sworn that everyone could see that you were starting to lose it.

That was the first night you didn't sleep.

The second night, you finally caught sight of the predator in the underbrush -- the thing that had been stalking you since you arrived back home. Only for a brief, blink-and-you-miss-it moment, but it was still long enough for you to know that it was the cause of your sleepless nights and worsening mental state.

You weren't sure how a perfectly ordinary angel statue could cause so much distress.

The third night, you noticed the statue had moved -- just a couple inches -- but it was enough for you to see the difference. Finally, you called the Doctor. Not five minutes later, you heard the TARDIS materialize outside.

You turned away for all of one second, but when you looked back, the angel had gone.

Well, "gone" was relative. It was out of line of sight, you could say that much for sure. But you knew it was still lurking nearby -- you could still feel it watching you.

The Doctor didn't bother announcing himself as he barged into your flat -- the TARDIS brakes were announcement enough. The sonic screwdriver was held aloft, its light moving in erratic circles in the darkened flat as the Doctor gradually made his way to you.

"Where is it?" he asked once he finally reached you. "Did you blink -- did it move!?"

You weren't sure how to answer. He had told you not to take your eyes off it, you recalled that now that he was here, yelling at you about it -- but you didn't even remember looking away just moments ago you were so exhausted.

In the back of your mind some little part of the normal you knew that the Doctor was just worried, but that little piece was dwindling with every moment you continued to lose sleep.

You'd moved right past delirium at this point -- and, hell, you weren't even sure how much of this was real. What if you were hallucinating? Angel statues that could only move if they weren't being looked at? That was a little crazy, even for the Doctor.

He turned to look at you when you remained silent, and when his eyes met yours they melted into pure, unadulterated concern and some dam inside you broke.

Sobs wracked your body and you collapsed. The only reason you didn't hit the ground was the Doctor surging forward, arms wrapping around you and holding you steady.

"Oh, dear," he cooed, holding you close. You buried your head into his chest, your cries still rocking through you, though the Doctor's arms kept you pretty snugly in place, and his clothes did an excellent job of muffling your blubbering.

You could feel one of his hands running comfortingly through your hair, while the other rubbed soothing circles into your back.

Miraculously, you calmed. For the first time in days, you felt like you could relax. Breathe. Hell, maybe even sleep.

It was with that thought that you felt yourself being effortlessly lifted. The Doctor carried you, bridal style, back to the TARDIS, through the doors and the console room and the halls, until he reached your bedroom and settled you carefully onto the bed.

"What about the angel?"

"You're completely safe in the TARDIS. I promise."

You knew that he knew that you had meant something different, but you were too tired to argue. Now that you were safe, sleep was coming to claim you rather quickly.

Once you fell asleep, you were haunted by nightmares again, but you were just so glad to be getting any sleep at all that you didn't care.

You found the Doctor in the console room the next morning, looking over something on one of the monitors. Without even so much as sparing you a glance, he dived right into it.

"That's no ordinary Weeping Angel."

"What do you mean?" you asked with a yawn and a bleary blink in his direction.

"See, normally a Weeping Angel wouldn't waste any time -- you blink, you're dead. Well. Teleported to another time so that they can feed off the energy that the displacement causes. But this... this is..."

"It's torturing me."

It wasn't a question -- how could it have been? You and the Doctor both could see what it was doing to you.

"Yes," he confirmed sadly.

"Reminds me of something," you said with a shrug.

"Oh?"

"Oh, do I get to be the brainiac for once?" you teased with a smirk, leaning back against the console beside him.

"I guess we'll find out," he teased back, mirroring your expression and bumping your shoulder lightly with his own.

You blushed, suddenly self-conscious, but you forged ahead anyway. "So, usually when a predator becomes a maneater it's because it's sick or injured and almost always starving, and humans are really easy prey compared to deer and antelope and stuff."

He was watching you with such rapt, adoring attention. You could barely stand it.

"But," you continued, "sometimes there are outliers. Predators that kill humans for unknown reasons, reasons that don't align with what we know about typical maneaters. The maneaters of Tsavo -- they were these two perfectly healthy, normal lions by all appearances, that killed anywhere from -- realistically speaking -- twenty-eight to thirty-two people, but reportedly they killed over a hundred. And no one really knows why they did it. There are theories, of course, but because they were healthy, and it happened over a century ago, there's no way to really confirm one way or another why they killed all those people."

You paused, thinking.

"Well, no way for the average person."

The Doctor beamed at you. "Oh, you are clever, aren't you?"

"I try."

"So you think maybe this Angel is an outlier?"

"Yeah, it's possible."

"No indicators of illness or injury, no signs of weakness or starvation. Just..."

"Sadistic tendencies?"

"But why?" he asked no one in particular, leaning back to stare at the monitor again.

"And..." you started thoughtfully. The Doctor turned to look at you again. "Why me?"

"Why you?" he repeated cluelessly.

"I wasn't here when it arrived, and it couldn't have known I was gonna be coming back anytime soon. It's possible it's been waiting for days, weeks for me to come back -- and it could've been waiting even longer if I hadn't decided I needed a break. That's a lot of waiting for a random person you don't know is coming back."

Realization dawned on the Doctor's face. "It's targeted."

"But why?"

"Why indeed?" he asked in that tone that was meant to sound casual but only served to let you know that he was deeply worried. "Let's find out, shall we?"

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Nothing At All (Doctor Who One-Shot)

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open and encouraged!

Summary: Your feelings for the Doctor are outed, and you're pretty sure he doesn't feel the same way. Thank God you're wrong, eh?

CW: angst, pining, canon typical peril, small amount of fluff, fluffy-ish

Doctor Who tag list: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“The mortal is exhibiting signals of elation and relief in the presence of our enemy,” the alien cyborg said robotically. You let out a frustrated puff of air. Of course, you felt relieved to see him. He was here to (presumably and hopefully) save you from their disturbing clutches. “Subject exhibiting pupillary dilation and increased blood flow to the chest, ears and face.” 

You groaned, eyes widening slightly at the implications of just what this cyborg was stumbling into finding out. 

These particular cyborgs had taken you hostage to study. They’d never seen a human before and supposedly this meant that they just had to have you. They needed to know everything under the sun, apparently. 

The Doctor grinned and you pressed your hand up towards the glass as if to reach him through it. It was thick and sterile and there was a cool mist spraying down onto you from above- no doubt with some sterilising agent in it as well. Liked their shit clean, these cyborgs did.

 

“Right then,” the Doctor said, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, sonic clutched behind his back. “I think you’d better let my friend go, don’t you?” 

The cyborg’s metallic head stared vacantly at the Doctor before it whirred and clicked to focus on you.

 

“The subject displays a rise in heart rate upon making visual contact with the enemy.”

 

Your eyes flit to the Doctor, who is doing his best not to make eye contact with you. You’re starting to piece together just what the cyborg is currently monitoring.

 

The Doctor clicks his tongue, whipping the Sonic from behind his back and scanning the lock on your glass door. The door opens with a ‘shhhhhk,’ as the gas leaks out around the framing. 

You spring into action, darting past the canister-like tube that you’d been held in and running for the Doctor’s hand. You took it with a squeeze and the Doctor shot a beam at the cyborg, who’d started towards you. 

“Emotion identified,” the cyborg said, robotic voice slowing as the Sonic did its thing. “Human emotion… named… love…” 

You groaned, flushing deep red as the Doctor grabbed you by the shoulder and pushed you forward, urging you towards wherever it was he’d parked the TARDIS. You didn’t even want to look at him. This was it. This was how you died. You almost wished the cyborg had killed you right then and there to save yourself from the misery of it all.

You’d not wanted the Doctor to find out about your little crush this way. In fact, there were about a million other ways you would have preferred he found out. 

You ran in whichever direction the Doctor told you, not daring to look behind you for fear of his expression, yes, but also for fear of seeing several angry cyborgs charging up their face lasers or something to smite you down with. 

Then, at the end of the corridor, you saw the TARDIS. She was parked half in the shadows and a cyborg was scanning it. The Doctor grunted as you both pelted it towards the blue box. You heard the telltale sound of the Sonic as he aimed it over your shoulder and fired it at the cyborg, most likely disabling the laser. It wasn’t as though the cyborg would have been able to garner much information from scanning it anyway, of course. The TARDIS had natural defences against that sort of thing, but it was the principle of the thing. 

The cyborg shut down as you narrowly escaped running face-first into its arm. With a shriek, you bolted inside the TARDIS doors, trying to avoid toppling up the stairs and breaking a bone in the process. 

The Doctor was hot on your heels, skidding to a stop to close the doors behind you both and lean back against it, skin flush with sweat and adrenaline. He panted, hands on his knees. 

It was only a minute before he was back on his feet, trying desperately to catch his breath but so rejuvenated by the narrow escape that he was bursting with energy. You were not in a similar boat. You were doing your best to just not collapse onto the floor from fear and exhaustion. 

Your cheeks were ruddy red, and sweat was beading in your hairline. You groaned irritably, desperately needing some water or a very, very long shower. And as you slowly started to bring yourself back down and your breathing started to even out, you remembered what the cyborg had said. 

“Oh, wasn’t that exciting?!” The Doctor practically yelled, energy bouncing off him in spades. “Cyborgs- brand new cyborgs sent to catalogue anything and everything! Bit of a job, but I s’pose that’s why they sent cyborgs. Not going to degenerate too fast. Oh, and their inter-cranial wiring- I mean, did you see that? Gorgeous!”

You were vaguely listening, in the very back of your brain. Hearing the words? Yes, but actually listening to what he was saying? Not so much, no. You wanted to curl up into a ball and just… roll away out of sight so you could avoid the Doctor forever. The TARDIS was basically never-ending. You could hide out there for the rest of your life, right? It would take him forever to find you if you kept moving from room to room. 

“-Hello? Are you hearing me?” 

“What?”

The Doctor pouted, eyebrows drawn down in concern. 

“Are you alright?” 

Were you alright? Were you alright? No, you were not alright. You were in love with the Doctor, and he’d avoided eye contact upon hearing that particular little factoid, which made you feel just so amazing about the whole thing. 

“Me? Never better,” you replied with a tight smile, swallowing thickly, throat dry. 

“Oh,” the Doctor said, nodding like he was trying to make himself believe it but knowing better. “Are you sure? I mean, that wasn’t all that convincing, really.” The Doctor scratched at the back of his head. You rubbed a hand down your face irritably and sighed. 

“Not really,” you finally admitted. “No.” 

The Doctor stepped forward, putting the Sonic away in his pocket. He put both his hands on your shoulders and gave you a very sincere look of genuine concern. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Besides the fact that you can’t even stand to look at me?”

The Doctor flounders for a moment, dropping his hands from you. You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. The Doctor, your poor un-offendable Doctor, looks hurt. You’ve hurt him. 

“Shit- I-” 

“Is that really what you think?” His voice sounds small and tinny in a way that unnerves you. You step forward, a small shuffle of a step, only for him to take one back. Ow, it feels like a fist has been rammed right through your gut and out the other side. Only that’s not what’s happened, and you’re not going to drop dead from having a hole torn right through you to avoid having to replay that memory in your head for the next thirty years. 

That flash of hurt on his face is gone the next, and it’s replaced by something that- if you’re not mistaken- almost looks angry. 

“No, is that really what you think?” 

It’s your turn to flounder now, hand hovering in the air toward him like a phantom. You’re not even convinced it’s your hand anymore. What was happening, and why was it happening? 

“I- n-no,” your voice wavered, unsure. “It’s just- when the cyborg- and you- I-” Your hands went to your head, and you forced yourself to breathe. The Doctor was fighting with himself on whether to rush forward to comfort you or remain in his protective defensive bubble. 

In and out. Once more. Okay, you were a little calmer now, your breathing evening out. With great care, you said, “You couldn’t look at me. When the cyborg told you… how I feel. I thought-” you broke off, tears springing up at the thought. “You might be done with me now that you know. That you might take be back home.” 

“Take you home?!” 

You jump at the volume of his response, eyes managing to meet his in defiance of all odds. 

“No, I’m not going to take you home. I- I didn’t want to let on I felt the same, because, well- they were calling me the enemy, and I didn’t need them thinking I had a weak spot for you. I mean, what would I do if you were gone? Cease to exist, cease to function.” The Doctor barely stopped for a breath. “Who else is going to call me out on my mismatched shoes, or- make sure I eat all the broccoli on my plate? Yuck, hate broccoli. Really, there’s no one else for me, I-” he breaks off so suddenly it’s almost jarring. 

“What?”

“You feel the same?” 

The Doctor blinks, clearly jolted out of his train of thought. 

“Course I do! You’re- well, you’re you! Look at you, how could I not?”

 

In those three seconds all of your fear, anxiety, embarrassment, anger, it all fades away, and you know everything is going to be alright. You’ll be alright, and so will he. You’ll be alright together, and what else did you need if you had each other? 

Nothing at all.

[e-louise-bates]

Instead of "20 books to $50k" or "how to increase readership by writing and publishing a book every month that is exactly like every other popular book out there," I need the kind of marketing advice that goes along the lines of, "hey, here's how to get a modest fanbase and sell enough books to justify this as a side gig without having to go crazy and spend more than you earn on marketing." Because honestly, all the advice I find these days either a) requires me to put way more time and money into marketing than I am able to do, or b) requires me to write fast and sloppy in very specific sub-genres, and that's really not why I write stories.

And like Emily Starr, I would--and will--continue to write stories regardless of how many people read them, but it would be nice to be able to reach more than a dozen readers, and to be able to reasonably look on my writing as a part-time job rather than an expensive hobby.

(It doesn't help that there are so many articles out there claiming that self-publishing is dead! It's gotten too bloated and now only a handful can make a living off it! But wait--traditional publishing is also dead! It's gotten too greedy and now only a handful can make a living off it! Mid-level authors? Whether traditionally published or self-published, they apparently no longer exist)

[thebunnednun]

Hey! You write for Sabo? If u do... can you write Sabo x Marine reader? This man needs more attention

Bound by Justice Sabo x Marine! Reader

My love, I'd write just about anything for this man.

Babes, we are adding another husband to the list!!

Ngl, I think he's a real cutie, and in a perfect world, Sabo and Ace are protecting Luffy like the good big brothers they are.

This is a request from my Follower Fridays: Requests from followers are posted. If you have a story request or anything you want to ask go ahead and do so on this day. Just make sure you send them in early so I can get to it in time. If you send something the day of I might be able to make it happen.

Don't be afraid to send me any requests my loves and if you are waiting for the next installment I have my masterlist posted!

Like usual, never be afraid to hang out in the comments. I love your feedback and snort up all the love you show. <33

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Here are some relationship headcanons for Sabo and the marine reader:

Mutual Respect: Despite being on opposite sides of the conflict, Sabo and the marine reader share a deep respect for each other's beliefs and principles. They admire each other's dedication to justice and are willing to put aside their differences to work together when necessary.

Intellectual Equals: Both Sabo and the marine reader are intelligent and quick-witted individuals. They engage in lively debates and discussions, challenging each other's perspectives and broadening their horizons in the process. Their intellectual connection strengthens their bond and fosters a deep sense of understanding between them.

Shared Values: Despite their different allegiances, Sabo and the marine reader share many core values, such as compassion, integrity, and a strong sense of duty. They both strive to make the world a better place in their own way, and this shared purpose forms the foundation of their relationship.

Unwavering Support: In times of need, Sabo and the marine reader are always there for each other. Whether it's offering a listening ear, providing moral support, or standing by each other's side in the face of danger, they never hesitate to lend a helping hand.

Opposites Attract: Sabo is fiery and passionate, while the marine reader is steadfast and determined. Despite their differences in temperament, they complement each other perfectly, balancing each other out and bringing out the best in one another.

Secret Admirers: Both Sabo and the marine reader harbor secret feelings for each other, unsure if their affection is reciprocated. They often find themselves stealing glances when they think the other isn't looking, their hearts fluttering with each fleeting touch and meaningful exchange.

Forbidden Love: Theirs is a love that defies societal expectations and challenges the boundaries of their respective worlds. Despite the risks and obstacles they face, Sabo and the marine reader are determined to fight for their relationship, refusing to let anything stand in the way of their happiness.

Growth and Development: Through their relationship, both Sabo and the marine reader experience personal growth and development. They learn to see the world through each other's eyes, gaining new perspectives and evolving as individuals in the process.

Shared Adventures: Whether it's fighting side by side in battle or embarking on thrilling adventures together, Sabo and the marine reader make the most of every moment they spend together. Their shared experiences strengthen their bond and create memories that will last a lifetime.

Hope for the Future: Despite the challenges they face, Sabo and the marine reader remain hopeful for the future. They dream of a world where their love can exist without fear or prejudice, and they're willing to do whatever it takes to make that dream a reality.

ON WITH THE STORY!!!

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The moon hung low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the deserted streets of the coastal town. Sabo, shrouded in the darkness, moved with the grace of a shadow as he watched the marine outpost from a safe distance. His mission tonight was crucial, yet his thoughts were unexpectedly drawn to her.

She was a force to be reckoned with, a marine with a fiery spirit and a heart of gold. Sabo couldn't help but admire her from afar, her dedication to justice both inspiring and captivating. It was a dangerous game he played, allowing himself to be drawn to someone on the opposite side of the conflict, but he couldn't deny the pull she had on him.

Meanwhile, at the marine outpost, she paced the dimly lit corridors, her mind racing with thoughts of the day's events. Her encounters with the notorious Straw Hat Pirates had left her questioning everything she thought she knew about the world. But amidst the chaos, one thing remained clear to her: her unwavering commitment to protecting innocent lives, even if it meant defying orders.

As she rounded a corner, she caught sight of a familiar figure lurking in the shadows. Instinct kicked in as she reached for her weapon, ready to confront the intruder. But as the moonlight fell upon his face, she recognized him instantly.

"Sabo," she breathed, her voice a mixture of surprise and disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Sabo stepped forward, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of determination and something else, something she couldn't quite place. "I could ask you the same thing, Marine," he replied, his voice low and steady. "But I think we both know the answer."

She felt her heart race at his words, a flutter of excitement mingled with fear coursing through her veins. "I won't let you interfere with our operations," she said, trying to sound stern despite the uncertainty in her voice.

Sabo chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down her spine. "I'm not here to cause trouble, I assure you," he said, taking a step closer to her. "In fact, I could use your help."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "My help? With what?"

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching hers as if trying to gauge her reaction. "There's someone I need to protect," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Someone who means everything to me."

She studied him for a long moment, sensing the sincerity in his words. Despite everything, she couldn't bring herself to turn him away. "Lead the way," she said quietly, her resolve firm as she followed him into the night.

As they made their way through the deserted streets, Sabo couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. He knew the risks of involving her in his mission, yet he couldn't deny the sense of relief he felt having her by his side.

Suddenly, a commotion up ahead caught their attention, drawing them towards the source of the disturbance. As they rounded a corner, they came face to face with a familiar figure: Luffy, the infamous Straw Hat Pirate.

Sabo's heart clenched at the sight of his brother, battered and bruised yet still defiant in the face of danger. Without hesitation, he rushed to Luffy's side, grateful for the marine's presence as they worked together to fend off their attackers.

Amidst the chaos, Sabo stole glances at the marine, marveling at her strength and determination as she fought alongside them. He couldn't help but admire her, her fiery spirit a stark contrast to the darkness that threatened to consume them all.

As the dust settled and their enemies retreated into the night, Sabo turned to the marine, a newfound sense of gratitude and respect burning within him. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice laced with emotion. "For everything."

She smiled at him, a glimmer of warmth in her eyes as she returned his gaze. "Anytime," she said, her voice soft yet resolute. "After all, we're on the same side, aren't we?"

Sabo's heart swelled with affection at her words, a sense of belonging washing over him like a wave crashing against the shore. In that moment, he knew he had found something worth fighting for, something worth risking it all for.

As they stood together in the moonlit street, a silent understanding passed between them, binding them together in a bond that transcended the boundaries of their respective worlds. And as they walked into the night, side by side, Sabo couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected twist of fate that had brought them together.

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This is also posted on the a03 account by the same name. I also have a sexy Ace x Straw-Hat! reader posted in the masterlist! Please go check it out!

Please check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don't be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[aurora-starwars]

I would just like to share with you all today that it is canon the Padmé Amidala has bad period pains

[theminecraftbee]

you ever come up with a really devious plot twist you CAN’T TELL ANYONE ABOUT FOR LIKE FOUR MONTHS GODDAMMIT,

[wolkoshka]

Paranormal

summary: you meet Ghost for the second time at Soap’s birthday/costume party and this time, you promise to get a taste of the man behind the mask. Simon Riley/Ghost x Reader

warnings: slow-burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, mutual pining, excessive drunk flirting, slightly dark!Simon, touch-starved Simon, trying to get into Simon’s pants (and sort of succeeding??), nsfw-themed

•this is a simon riley ficlet, I repeat, this is not a one-shot but contains a bit of plot and character development, bcs god knows we need 'em

•part 1/3

word count: 5k+

London was drenched, blinding flashes forking out amidst midnight clouds rolling in a hailing storm.

Or it was pishin' doon oot there, as your childhood best friend would call it.

His birthday, along with the rain, had just stormed in, and since he was being deployed on another mission tomorrow, he wanted to party as soon as the clock struck midnight.

Excitement buzzed in your veins, and not because of the party - well, partially - but because of a certain someone you were impatient to meet again.

On cue, lightning flashed as a strong kick to the bar's door burst it open - and in strut you, Ghostbuster uniform on full display. Except, this one's slutty. And there's only one ghost that needed catching tonight.

All commotion stopped to regard you.

Tossing the umbrella into a rack, you kicked the door shut with your heel.

With shorts hugging the plump of your ass, a form-fitting jacket unzipping down the front to reveal your salacious cleavage, and waist and thigh straps securing the proton pack to your back coupled with the knee-high boots four inches tall, you knew you were a sight to behold.

The bar was swarming with familiar faces of both military and mutual friends.

You dramatically posed, the gun of the proton pack activated. “Heard there was something strange in your neighborhood.”

Low whistles and compliments rebounded. “There’s something strange happening in my pants right now!” one male enthusiastically called from the back.

“Haud yer weesht,” a familiar voice reprimanded, soon followed by an effective smack.

From a sea of shark fins, faerie wings, and numerous superhero costumes, a Mohawk head popped out. Your expression abruptly brightened and you twirled performatively as Johnny shouldered through the bodies and took you in a big, tight hug.

The heat of his body singed into your chilled one, enveloping you.

“Ay ye bastard. Ye actually made it.”

Embracing him equally as tightly, you smothered him with kisses on the face. You hadn’t seen him for three months now. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Johnny-bo-bonnie. Mwah, mwah, mwah. That one’s from mum.”

A hearty laugh. “Don’t tell me - she baked me something real delicious and you ate it.”

“Guilty as charged.”

He put you down, and you stepped back to take in his outfit: a bathrobe, slippers, and polka dotted blue swim trunks. His chest was bare and suave sunglasses perched on his head.

“And what are you supposed to be?”

He splayed his arms wide open, a shit-eating grin revealing straight, white teeth. “A man on a well-earned vacation.”

You playfully slapped him on the chest. “Good one.” From your proton pack, you withdrew a box. A present. “Here. Gotchu something.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s another soap.”

“Why? Were you showered with them tonight?” A snort-laugh. “Get it? Shower? Soap?”

“Harr, harr, harr.” He thumbed over his shoulder at a shrine of soaps forming a pyramid on a table. “Suddenly, everyone’s so bloody hilarious tonight.”

You made a noise of intrigue. “Do they smell nice?”

“Don’t care. What did you get me?” He palmed the box, opening it.

“I’m taking some if they do.”

“Go crazy, lass.” A soft gasp. Then, “O feckin’ feck me.”

“I know, I know. I know you too well. It’s my curse,” you sighed, but smiled when he took out the expensive bottle of GlenDronach, his favorite scotch.

“Happy birthday, sucker.”

He looped an arm around your neck, hugging you close and kissing you on the temple. “And that’s why you’re my favorite best friend.”

"Other best friends, huh? Take that back or I’ll Bath and Body Works your arse next time I see you.”

“Roger that.”

Arm still corded around your shoulders, he turned your bodies to the bar - and there he was.

Ghost.

Simon Riley, you learned his name was.

The muse that lingered in every afterthought, in the darkness of the night, while sleep cooed you into a moment of silence your heart beat fast and loud enough to fight off - just to win more time thinking of the man who did not even care for your existence.

A soft gasp parted your lips.

His back was to you, broad and tall, as he conversed with Price, head tilting ever so often in remark.

He sported a dark brown leather jacket over a black hoodie and equally as dark cargo pants. His combat boots hugged up his strong calves, his legs parted over the bar stool he perched on, meaty thighs barely fitting.

He wasn't in costume. You guessed he dressed as a ghost mirroring a civilian.

Despite the chaos circulating him, his poise was calm and collected, but not unaware, the stiffness in his shoulders stating as much.

A killer of killers, apex predator of the fittest, his prowess was unmatched in the battlefield, and to witness a man of his caliber exist in environment simple and mundane had a startling effect.

Menacing, you thought, a bite to your lower lip.

"See somethin' you like?" Soap humorously chuckled.

You'd met Ghost three months prior, while Task Force 141 was deployed on a private mission to locate Shepherd's current hideout, and as a private contractor who'd built many commercial, private, and government facilities - wherever the clients needed them built - you'd come across one personally requested by Shepherd himself.

It was a long time ago, but your memory had not failed you.

By the shores of Chile, was a property laid out by you, the blueprint of it handed off to Soap to investigate.

Screw client confidentiality when your best friend's life was put in danger by a betraying bastard.

It was then, as you'd climbed into the SUV to hand the blueprint, you'd made out a humongous shape in your peripheral and screamed out in reaction.

It hadn't helped when it was a skull staring right into your very soul.

"Ah, a common reaction to Ghost," Soap had commented. "Lt, meet my best friend," he said your name, and to you, "meet Lt. Ghost. Simon."

Simon.

You'd wiggled your fingers a hello at him. "What a name. Pleased to meet you."

He hadn't responded, had merely stared before looking out the window.

Right then and there, he was an enigma you couldn't deny. You'd decided to make him look your way however and whichever way you could.

"Johnny, be done with it," he'd grated out when you and Soap got lost in the gossip, the husk and deep gravel of his voice eliciting a full-on body shiver from you.

You'd stolen the name he'd given your best friend, calling him Johnny from that day onwards.

Now, here he was anew. A few more steps and within reach, you merely had to walk to him.

Excitement buzzed in your veins.

You smoothed a hand down your outfit. "Do you think he'll appreciate the joke?"

"Knowing Lt and his humor, or lack thereof actually, he might just hate himself for loving it too much."

A giddy feeling spurted in your chest. "You think?"

"Oh, yea. But go easy on him," he added, peering down at you, brow arched, "the man just landed from a solo mission. There's an uneasy air about him tonight. The fact that he's even attending is gift enough for me."

"That means he's tired, grumpy, and susceptible to an easy one night stand. Just my type of target."

"Ay ye vixen. I said go easy. Here," he lowered the zipper on your chest, revealing more of your cleavage, "that's better. Now go get him. God knows he needs it," he grumbled the last part.

Happily, you almost skipped your way to him. But just before reaching, two bodies swarmed you, hugging you close and screaming in your ear over the bar music. Your friends from college.

"Where have you been!"

"It's so good to see you again, come!"

You were dragged away, more distance than you'd like being put between you and Simon. Nooo.

It wasn't after two hours of losing yourself in the crowd, dancing with people, with Johnny, backs pressing together to roll to the beat of the songs in your sickest moves, that you, downing more margaritas than you could count, summoned back your wits and sauntered your way to the bar.

Plopping down on a stool next to his, you mirthfully laughed, buzzed out of your mind.

The melodious sound cut his conversation short with Price and dragged his attention to you, and - oh, fuck.

Those eyes.

Even in your stupor you admitted to their allure.

He walked, talked, like a man who's had his flesh peeled from his bones. Eyes too haunted to be alive, too haunted to be dead.

A man imprisoned in the infinite present that neither knew him reprieve or end.

You were so lost in them that you didn't say anything to him for a long moment. Then, "Hi," you lowly voiced, grinning like a fool who just got the best present under the Christmas tree.

Reminding yourself to be sexier, you opted for a, "What is a girl like you doing...sitting all alone when a hunk like me is right here?"

Your brows furrowed in the middle. No, that didn't sound right. You tried again.

"What is a girl like me doing with...with a hunk like you, sitting...all... No, that's not it either."

The bulk of him shifted in his seat, whiskey in a gloveless hand, as he now regarded you.

To be the sole focus of those eyes, it killed you. Like honeyed whiskey swirling with the silver clouds of storm outside, it made you feel more drunk than you already were.

But you could see how tired he really was, eyes rimmed red, thin veins stark against the white of his sclera.

"All right," he spoke, tone indulging, but rigid and gravely as the rest of him. "You have my attention."

You did? Success!

Even with the balaclava hiding that no doubt beautiful face of his, you complimented him, afraid that if you didn't, you'd be committing a heinous crime.

"You are." You hiccupped. "You are so pretty."

"And you are shit-faced. Had too much to drink, did ya?"

You leaned in, eyes twinkling with something wicked that even he could not deny.

"Liquid courage," you drawled. And then laughed again, dusky and free.

Price, having noticed where the conversation was heading, turned away with a warm chuckle.

"I'll leave you two to it," he said, giving his attention fully to Gaz, who sat to his left.

You waved at the boys, all giddy. And then motioned with your finger to Ghost's waist, as if to say you were going to get inside his pants. Oh, yes, he was the object of your desires.

Gaz chocked on his bottle of beer.

Price palmed his mouth to stifle a laugh. Unsuccessfully.

Ghost, on the other hand, when you glanced up at him, had his lids hooded.

In his language, that might as well translate to a glower.

"You have one minute," he almost barked out. Glower, indeed.

You straightened, expression serious. You gave him a captain's two-finger salute. "Sir, yes, sir!"

Then, before he could toss you out the window of the bar, you followed it up with, "Heard you like jokes. Do you like mine?"

You motioned to your costume.

He followed the movement, gaze raking down your body, and then slowly up, blond lashes fluttering. When his eyes landed on your cleavage, heat filled them, and in reaction, warmth spooled low in your belly.

"Clever," he throatily remarked, glancing away to his whiskey.

All for you.

His compliment added even more heat to your belly, and you blushed, biting your lip.

"I have more where that came from."

A low rumbling sound. It took you a while to decipher it as a hum. "Is that what the courage was for? Not in the mood, poppy."

His rejection would have floored you had you not been already sat.

Not giving up, you leaned further in, fingers trailing over his leathered forearm that rested on the counter. If one focused enough, they'd also spot the slight tremble in them.

At the closeness, he craned his head down slightly to give you a warning look.

It was dark and foreboding, commanding you to watch the boundaries he'd laid or you might just pay the price.

Any man would have run the other direction. But you were not a man. You were horny. For him. Your desire for Ghost had been stoking for months now, and this very moment, so close to him, you thought you might burn alive with it.

You needed him between your legs, feeding his length into you, assuaging the ache that had made a home there with a friction only he could create.

His scent filled your lungs, and you visibly shuddered. He smelled of the storm outside and something else, something masculine and singular only to him.

If you weren't already drunk, the mere heat of him would've rendered you stupid.

Maybe it had, because the next words out of your mouth were sultry and promising.

"You know, it is not ghosts that haunt, but rather they are the haunted. Give me one night, and I might just chase them all away."

You gently dropped from your stool then, stepping into the space between his parted legs, hands daringly skimming over his robust thighs - before warmly palming them, fingertips digging in his cargo pants.

And he was letting you. That fact alone made your head reel.

Face tilting up, you bopped your chin against his clothed one.

At that, Ghost breathed in deep, and then breathed out slow.

Were you getting to him? Or was he really just tired to deal with you, as Johnny had warned?

Only one way to find out.

"I have another joke for you," you hummed. His lids dropped to your lips, and stayed there. You licked them for emphases, the pink tip of your tongue leaving a glistening trail in its wake.

A sound started in his chest, the beginnings of a groan, you guessed, before he quashed it, and you wanted to whine like a little girl who'd been denied her favorite sweet.

"Be out with it," he lowly grinded out.

A small, playful smirk. "What do you call a man who's great at sex with a sigh and moan in his name?"

An intrigued huff, but it came out rasped. "Go on then."

You stretched to your toes, back bowing and perked breasts brushing against his hardened chest. As you dug the heels of your palms into his thighs, your lips trailed up his jawline and nestled right at his ear.

"Simon," you heatedly whispered, making sure to actually moan the last syllable.

When you pulled your face back an inch, you saw his pupils blown, a frightening darkness overshadowing all color. His breathing had deepened, turned almost harsh, but quiet, as his suddenly ravenous look made your knees weak.

You'd never seen his eyes glimmer like that, so predatory, and that turned you on more. So much so that molten heat drooled out of you, soaking your panties. Did he know the effect he had on you?

His hand traveled up between your bodies, and blood rushed in your ears, your heart palpitating. Had you done it? Were you finally going to know the taste of him? Know how his lips felt against yours, moving, devouring? How hotly his kiss melted every inch of you?

As anticipation coiled tight in your stomach, his iron knuckles pressed into your lower chest, right below your revealed cleavage - and nudged you away.

You plopped back down to your heels, taking steps back the more he outstretched his arm and pushed you farther, like he couldn't stand being in the same vicinity as you.

Confused, hurt - a look you did your best to mask - you searched his expression. There was nothing to gain, masked as he was.

"Point made, love," his deep - deeper - timbre chafed the air between your bodies. "But not tonight. Not in the mood. Go on, now. Dance with Johnny, will ya?"

Humiliation blistered your cheeks and you quickly sobered - and felt increasingly sick to your stomach.

He'd just dismissed you like you were some schoolgirl acting out in his classroom.

Hands balling into tight fists, you stole a determined step toward him. You'd worked quite hard on those jokes, mind him.

"Some fun, you are. What, afraid of a little pleasure?"

He leisurely blinked. "Pleasure's not what I'm afraid of," he began only to cut himself short. A glower crowned his ashen brows, smudged by the eye paint, and he grumbled something under his breath you could not make out.

Swaying a bit on your feet - liquid courage, your arse - you flipped back your hair. "Fine. I'll find somebody else to have fun with." Then, inching closer to him, you leaned in to drunkenly whisper, "And when they're balls deep inside of me, I'll still wish it was you."

The glass of whiskey shattered in his grasp when he fisted it too hard, and that groan, that heavenly, wonderful sound of peak male frustration, finally escaped.

"Bloody fuckin' hell, poppy."

With a cheery twirl, you marched away, lithe shoulders blanketed by the crowd, and left the ever stunned lieutenant to his devices.

But his rejection still chafed you, and, oh, God, you needed to get wasted. So wasted, this night would never come back to haunt you again.

. ☾ .

It wasn't after another hour of dancing, partying, and singing sappy songs at the top of your lungs with Johnny and the gang, even tipsily sniffing some stacked soaps and secretly hiding the ones you liked in your bra, you finally found yourself in your designated spot - hunched over a toilet seat and vomiting the contents in your stomach.

It was expected. You'd drank and drank and drank... And now, your whole world swam.

A wretched sound tore from your throat as another round lurched out of your mouth, splattering into the toilet.

You groaned, vision blurred. Ew.

Settling back, you wiped at your lips with your wrist, heaving. So much for having a good time. But Johnny was happy, so you were happy. With his dangerous line of work and your stressful one, you two deserved such nights of peerless fun.

Like the good 'ole times, something Johnny must've needed too, since he didn't usually celebrate his birthdays. But when he did, oh, shit hit the fan in the most amazing ways.

Recalling some of your escapades, you smiled to yourself, completely unaware of the large silhouette shadowing past the doorway.

The lavatory door whined closed.

At the sound, you looked up.

Ghost stilled in his steps, cocking his head at you in question.

You huffed. "What are you doing in the ladies' bathroom?"

"This is the men's." He thumbed his right, where the urinals lined the wall.

What?

This whole time you were hunched over the men's toilet seat?

Another round of nausea shot up your throat, uncalled for, and you bent over the toilet in time to unflatteringly decorate it.

Gross!

This was so not how you wanted your night to end with Simon, either.

At his retreating steps, you immediately clambered to your shaky feet. "Please, don't leave. I get scared when vertigo hits." Such pathetic admittance, but it was the truth. When your world spun out of control, so did your fears.

He stopped. Looked over his shoulder.

You tried to hurry to him, but knocked one ankle against the other, and unceremoniously tripped. Hard. Head first, down you thwacked against the marbled flooring.

You blacked out.

When you slowly came to, webs of darkness blurring the edges of your vision, you moaned your distress. Bit by bit, Ghost's face registered, hovering over yours, his Manchester accent thick with how he roughly ordered you to come to.

Blinking up at him, you deliriously raised your hand to pat his masked cheek but to no avail. Darling man. Were you dreaming? If so, you never wanted to wake up. You smiled a small smile at him.

"Hi," you whispered. You sounded so wasted and oh, so enamored. Sober you was going to have a serious conversation with drunk you tomorrow.

"Don't move. Easy, now, yeah?" He pushed you down when you weakly fought to rise up. "You're bleedin' all over the place, poppy."

You tried to reason with him, say how disgusting the floor was and you could never lay down there.

"Should've thought of that before drinkin' your posh arse stupid, yeah?" was his argument.

Dream Simon was mean.

"I'm posh," you hummed out a silly laugh. "Posh like a Spice Girl."

"Be quiet," he roughed out, unimpressed. From his pocket, he withdrew a glove and pressed it against your temple.

A throbbing ache hissed where the clothe touched your skin, and you winced.

After a stringing moment, "Why do you hate me?" you softly asked.

His eyes focused on you then, deep and intrusive, and you licked your lips in consequence.

"I don't hate you," came his gruff retort.

"So then why won't you kiss me?"

A slow blink away from your face. He might as well have rolled his eyes. "You don't want to kiss a man like me, poppy."

Why? Because it would rock your socks off? Render you into a silly little mess? Make your dirtiest dreams come true?

Even with a bleeding temple, you understood the meaning behind his words. Maybe even rejection. He was a dangerous man, callous and brutal. Men like him only caused pain and destruction, spawned nightmares and reveled in the blood spilled.

But from the stories you've heard of him, especially from Johnny, and from your own little interaction, you saw more than the mask he donned. Saw past it to something buried in him. Something guarded so very deep inside, not even sunlight could pierce the shadows around it, but it was there. And you saw it even now, drunk and utterly wasted you may be.

Maybe he thought he'd hurt you. Maybe he tumbled rough and mean under the sheets. At the image, arousal ignited in your veins, backlit behind the wall of drowsiness and pain that still coursed through your system.

"And... And if I still do? Would you kiss me then?"

"Negative."

A pout.

"How's your vision?"

With you in it, "Good."

A clipped nod. "I'll help you to your feet. And then we can take care of that nasty little wound there, yeah?"

"Aye, aye, captain," you murmured.

When he pressed the glove a bit too deeply into the wound, you immediately rectified your words. "I meant, yes, sir. As you say, sir."

A hum, low and raspy. "That's more like it."

Slowly but surely, you climbed to your feet. For a moment, your vision went black and your ears rang, and you paused, waiting for the darkness to pass. Simon waited with you.

"Better?" he asked when you straightened, touching where his glove pressed against your temple. Your fumbling hand fell upon his leanly adroit one.

Skin grazed skin, electrifying warmth rivaled warmth, and you softly gasped. You nodded, gaze lost in the sheer view of him.

Ghost towered over you, your head lining his broad chest, and you suddenly felt engulfed. It certainly didn't help when the reality of him ending you with just the flick of his wrist if he so willed hovered over your consciousness.

God, he was so big. Just the mass of him and how he crowded any room he was in, made your mouth salivate.

And now, enveloped in his masculine heat, he was all you could see, hear, smell.

Feel.

"Don't look at me with eyes like that, poppy," he gravely warned, lids hooded as he stared you down.

Your throat tightened, lungs drawing in as all air escaped you. "And how am I looking at you?"

"Like I'm dinner."

You moaned despite yourself. It was achingly soft and needy.

You wanted to taste him in the back of your throat, feel his throbbing weight on your tongue, mouth working him mad enough that being pushed over the edge of insanity was his only option. And when that happened, you wanted to know how he sounded as all shred of control left him, his back arching as he spilled all he was worth in you, pumping and pumping, still in desperate chase of that high.

"Bloody hell, still with that look. Not a good listener, are ya? Come 'ere." He dragged you between the two sinks. "Lean against the wall." You did as told, back flattening against the large mirror mounted to it. He opened the faucet and let the cool water run as he wet the glove.

Ruggedly, "Stay still."

With that, he squeezed the water out and slowly got to work, dabbing around the wound and cleaning you up. It was a painstakingly tedious process, but you didn't mind, wincing here and there as you watched him tend to you.

See? Something more in there.

You studied the furrow in his brow, the sharp concentration in his eyes, the even rise and fall of his shoulders, and thought you lost a little bit of your mind for him.

He rinsed the glove, squeezed it, and resumed his task. His hand palmed the whole top of your head as he maneuvered you in whichever way he liked, tilting your face up, down, to the side, as he reached all spots inflicted.

The rough pad of his thumb pinned over the arch of your brow, and you thought you felt him subtly brush at it in his nursing.

When he caught you dumbly staring up at him for the third time, he broke the comfortable silence. "Shouldn't be drinking that much."

Had he been keeping tabs on you? Such wishful thinking, but butterflies still took flight in your tummy. You watched his masked face.

If his lips weren't shielded, you thought you'd feel his breath ghost over your cheeks.

Instead, you innocently batted your lashes at him. "Am I in trouble...sir?" you teasingly - sultrily - added.

He was in the process of wetting the glove when his gaze snapped down to you.

It was brief, but there was a flash of desire behind those lidded eyes before he subdued it with the subtle clench of his jaw.

The air in the room, on the other hand, he could not manipulate. It altered, thickened, became...hotter. Tension pulsed from his body raw and electrifying.

When he gradually straightened, protruding his chest, you suddenly felt suffocated - in the best of ways.

In the sizzling silence, you felt cornered, and your lips parted in anticipation.

He spoke, his words measured and roughish, betraying nothing. "You're bleedin' all over the place and yet you still can't keep it in your pants, mm, poppy?"

You bit your lip, a muffled sound of excitement building up in your chest for provoking a Special Forces soldier - Lieutenant - of all people. "Mhm."

You were stupidly giddy. He merely shook his head at you.

Then, he was watching you again, blond lashes fluttering as his gaze traced over your features, slowly, so agonizingly slow, before settling on your lips. You felt the heat of his stare on them.

A small sound got caught up in your throat, and it wasn't missed by him.

"Do I excite you, little one?" he quietly hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest, crackling ever so slightly, and it felt like honeyed butter melting down your skin.

A tremor racked your entire form, arousal burning your pupils wide and your breath scorching hot - all for him to witness and take in.

It must've pleased him, because he gave you the sexiest bedroom eyes you've ever beheld, the sheer fever in them sweltering and wild.

Huskily, "Yeah?" He stepped forward, large boots emitting no sound. You pressed further up against the wall, chin brushing over the leather of his jacket.

A thin layer of sweat dotted your skin at his nearness, your body involuntarily heating up, an unbearable ache building up between your legs.

And you thought Simon knew exactly what he was doing to your senses, because he followed it up with, "You look at the mask and think you're goin' to get fucked hard, is that it?"

His fingers lightly pinched your chin, his thumb darting up to caress the underside of your lower lip, grazing the edges and eliciting a ticklish sensation.

A needy whine from you caused that broad chest of his to collapse in a visible shudder. Seeing the reaction you pulled from him, your mouth fell open in want, and you meekly grinded up your hips against his thighs.

Your clothed core skimmed over the rough texture of his cargo pants, catching on a crease, but it was enough friction to have your head falling back against the mirror and you keening.

"More," you hotly moaned, feeling wetness seep out of you.

You tested the waters again, widening your stance and rolling your hips upward. Your clit meshed tight against his solid thigh, and when you rubbed it in gradual circles, grinding down, his thigh muscles bulged in response, hitting a sensitive nerve.

"Fuck," you gasped, mouth parting wider. You hadn't expected it to feel this good. "Ghost, please."

With a commanding grip of your hip, he stilled your ministrations. "None of that, poppy," he hoarsely warned. Then, "Shit," he lowly grunted when he felt your hips fight his hand for more stimulation, "That bad, huh?"

You mustered a nod, eyes never leaving his. "Want you," you breathed out.

"Can't have me." A small shake of his head. "Won't give you what you want. 'Sides, you're drunk out of your mind, love."

With that, he released you, backing away before you could reach for him.

Suddenly bereft, you wanted to shout your dissent.

Instead, your body laxed against the wall, palms clutching the coolness of the tiled wall. You already missed his nearness. His hands on you. You didn't want this moment to end.

You didn't want him to go.

Not so soon, anyway. Because God knew he'd make promise to his sobriquet.

"Wash your face. And get your shit together. That's a direct order," resounded his harsh command. If you hadn't wallowed too deep in his rejection, you might've caught the way his hands fisted at his sides when you whined in frustration.

With a defeated slump of your shoulders, you commanded your legs work and rounded the sink.

Palming the rushing water, you went about washing your hands and thoroughly rinsing your mouth. All sensation of him drowned with the water, leaving your skin cool to the touch.

"I'll take you to the hospital," he added more softly, which still grated the air.

Your heart seized in your chest. Why the sudden care?

What game did he play with you? Because one moment, he looked like he wanted to ravish you and the next, like he couldn't get away from you fast enough. Which was it, did you repulse him or attract him?

When he touched you, it was never deeply, desperately, but lightly, airily, leaving you begging for more.

And making him ever estranged.

What was his problem?

What was yours?

Why did you desire this particular man so wantonly? You had to find yourself a fling for the night. You had to flush Ghost out of your system for good.

You had to go home.

How you were going to accomplish both in one night, though, you had no clue.

Yes, while sober, you might have soldiered through the trauma to your head, but right now, still drunk and dizzy, you couldn't tell your elbow from your arse.

Splashing another round of cool water over your face, you grunted when you accidentally swept over your wound.

Appearing much like a drowned rat than the intended sexy Ghostbuster, you shut the faucet, clutched the edges of the sink and lifted your head to stare in the mirror.

Your eyes fell on Ghost.

He quietly watched you watch him from the reflection, a looming shadow in the background, waiting. You expected him to abscond you, but he remained - and that gladdened you beyond belief. Which also now irritated you.

He extended his glove to you.

Breath suddenly shaky, you turned around, the ugly bruised cut on your temple momentarily forgotten. When you made to step forward, crimson blanketed your left eye, and you swiped at it. In the haze, you saw your fingers coated in dark red.

"Bollocks." You started bleeding again. "No need for a hospital. I live a street down. I have a med kit. I'll..." You creased your brows in thought, still tipsy. "I'll care for it at home. Yes. And since you blue-balled me, I intent on finding someone to do the naughty with. I need you out of my system and out of my mind."

Oh, sober you was really going to sit you down tomorrow morning, all right.

He didn't respond to you.

The journey to Ghost proved to be a dangerous one, as the floor and walls adamantly dodged you, making your world swing whichever way you grasped for leverage.

You felt like you existed in a gigantic ball rolling down a hill at full-speed just waiting to burst and send you flying through the air. And you were in a hell of your own making.

Barking out a curse, you heard Ghost stomp your way - before you felt strong arms band around your shoulders and under your knees, effectively hoisting you up in his arms. "You are trouble, poppy. And you won't be taking care of anything in this state. I'll drop you home."

With that, he carried you out of the restroom, the bar, and into the chilled night of London city.

an: it got too long, yall, too long! this is part 1 of 2 for now. i couldn't help it, when i write, i write. part 2, we're ghostin' it up! (therell be smut) hope you enjoyed it!

part two

[patrice-bergerons]

Okay but Bond trusting Dench!M to be the one who kills him--a reverse Istanbul if you will.

Specifically a fic set in an M lives AU where it's now a few years post Skyfall, she has since retired, Bond still works for MI6 but has retired from active service as well; he and Q are in a stable, happy relationship and he and M have grown quite close since then. A set up like in the I could always move in with you verse.

Except, MI6 then needs to run a highly risky and highly off the books mission where if they get caught it will deny all knowledge because the political consequences are disastrous. And Bond volunteers to do it because there is still no one else both as competent and willing to risk their neck as he is without expectation of reward or rescue should things go south.

And he asks Mansfield to help run it alongside Q because Mallory cannot be tied to it in any shape or form and also because he trusts her to choose England every single time if it comes down to a choice between his life and his country.

Because he isn't sure that had it been Q they were sending into the field, he himself would have been able to make that call--not anymore, not again. Q has always been stronger than him, but more so perhaps he doesn't want Q to have to live with that burden for the rest of his life.

So he asks and trusts his oldest friend to carry it for them both instead.

[redr0sewrites]

Hi out of interest how would humans, elves and dragons react to seeing a space ship and when the spaceship opens thy meet well other humans that came from a different planet where magic, elves and Dragons are well myths ?

i literally tried to write this 3 times but i kept accidentally refreshing the tab and it would delete everything so im sorry if this sucks but i legit am going to die if i have to write this again😭

Callum

he was scared af at first ngl

he was super interested in learning ab the human technology and explained the magic to the new humans since mages r a myth in their world

wants to learn ab other worlds

probably would befriend a lot of the other humans and teach them ab how xadia worked

Rayla

she would probably be super wary of the humans at first and the giant ass ship

would prob try to attack jt 💀

once she warmed up to the humans, she would teach them ab xadia and elven culture!

shed be super interested in the humans weapons, she is an assassin after all

Ezran

he would prob try be the most diplomatic

would try to make some alliance or peace treaty

hed be the first to approach the ship and interact with them as he wanted to know if they were a threat

very interested in learning ab the othee humans

he would bring them to katolis, much to opelis annoyance

Aaravos

now hed be intrigued

traveling among the stars? now that caught his attention

like 50 humans would fall in love w him just like me fr lmfao hed flirt mercilessly

the idea of other worlds and planets intrigues him alot

def asks a lot of questions

also wants to learn ab human tech and weapons, but for more malicious purposes lmfao

they all think that elves and dragons r myths, so he would show them magic and explain the entire history and lore of xadia to them💀

Zubeia

she would help to ensure peace with ezran adn make sure they werent a threat

the humans would prob either be super scared of her or think she was super cool since dragons were myths

teaches them ab xadian and dragonic customs!!!

is wary of letting them meet zym tho, she doesnt want to endanger him

if they see the statue of avizandum and ask questions she will legit just ignore them 😭

overall is a little wary of them but accepts it as it is

i cant find the strength to write more im so so so sorry 😭😭😭

[denaliwrites]

Don't Look Away

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Part 1: Don't Blink Part 2: Don't Turn Your Back Part 4: Dreams See Us Through

Summary: You're finally rid of those godforsaken angels.

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp, @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

Warnings: Weeping Angels.

You were so tired.

Between the nightmares and the constant vigilance, there was just... never a moment of rest for you.

Sure, the Doctor whisked you away again, back out into the far reaches of time and the universe, but no matter where you went, you always wondered if the angel was lurking nearby. And when you went back home, you knew that it was.

Out of sight, in this case, did not mean out of mind.

And the Doctor -- oh, the Doctor. He missed the old you. You could see it in his eyes. Every time he looked at you, even if he was smiling, you could see the broken hearts behind those beautiful brown eyes.

You had half a mind to leave him, to spare him the pain of watching you slowly wither away to nothing. And it was happening -- you could feel it, the way your body was getting slower, like it was in the process of shutting down.

Your mind, too, was starting to go. Things that normally would've taken moments to understand took you minutes. The Doctor often found you wandering the TARDIS with little recollection of where you were or how you got there. Your adventures became less frequent, and on the occasions he did take you on one, he was forced to keep a close eye on you so that you didn't trail off and get lost.

And then the adventures stopped.

The Doctor still picked up distress calls and the like -- but he couldn't help people and keep an eye on you at the same time, so you were left in the TARDIS while he went and did his thing.

You didn't mind, though. The rare times you were completely and totally alone gave you the opportunity to cry your heart out.

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

The Doctor... wasn't a fan of problems he couldn't solve.

Did he accept that there were problems he couldn't solve? Of course -- the universe was vast and mysterious, even to him. Planets that by all accounts shouldn't exist existed. He'd met species that by all accounts shouldn't have been able to evolve, but somehow had.

(He still shuddered at the memory of the creature on Midnight.)

But acceptance was not the same as liking. And he did not like problems he couldn't solve.

In fact, he rather hated them.

You were a problem he couldn't solve. Or, at least, adjacently. More accurately, the Weeping Angel that had psychically latched itself onto you was a problem he couldn't solve -- but it was a problem for you, and he couldn't solve that either.

It killed him.

It killed him, it killed him, it killed him.

He just wanted to see you smile again. Hear your laugh. Feel you radiate joy and wonder and curiosity.

One thing the Doctor also hated?

Running out of time.

How did a Time Lord in possession of a time machine ever run out of time? How could he have let himself run out of time?

You were on the verge of needing actual medical attention -- intervention, really. He could see you deteriorating, noted how the process was getting faster and faster every day.

He was going to take you to New Earth, to those cat nun nurses. If anyone could help you, it was them -- loathe as he was to admit it.

But he thought, one more adventure. One more little trip, before he took you to be healed, and one trip to a doctor that could heal you better than he could before he took you home for the last time.

One more trip, one more doctor's office, before he gave himself to the Weeping Angel.

It was the only solution.

Well, the only solution he could see, at least.

So, he landed the TARDIS someplace low stakes. Calm, peaceful. Normal, far as the universe went. A little market planet by the name of --

"Vipitera!" the Doctor exclaimed as he swept out of the TARDIS with a big grin on his face. You shuffled close behind, a hand clutching at his coat to keep from losing him.

"Vipitera," he repeated as he swung around to face you suddenly, his bright and excited eyes meeting yours -- dull and exhausted. His grin didn't waver.

"Vipitera," he said again, slower, really drawing out the syllables. "Vipitera, Vipitera, Vipiteraaaaa." Each time he repeated the name, it sounded goofier and goofier.

Finally, miraculously, he managed to coax out a smile from you. His grin broadened. "There you are," he said with such amazement and adoration. He pulled you towards him and planted a loving kiss to your forehead. "There you are."

He tucked you tightly against his side and led you away from the TARDIS. He'd landed in some kind of supply closet, so it took some walking and weaving through halls, but eventually the two of you stepped out into the market proper.

He watched as your eyes sparked to life and bounced from stall to stall. He could almost feel the excitement flooding your brain, igniting parts of you that had been dulled and left to flicker out for far too long.

He supposed that was his fault.

"Welcome to the market planet Vipitera," he said with a grin and a broad motion to their surroundings. It effectively chased the thoughts away, as he got to see you smile again.

"Let me just -- hold on --" He pulled away from you to dig in his pockets, pulling something out a minute later. It looked like some kind of computer chip. "There's loads of credits on that thing," he said as he passed it to you with one hand and scratched the back of his head with the other. "Off you pop. Go wild."

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

You didn't like the idea of going off on your own, but you figured -- a planet as public as this, with constant activity and very few places a Weeping Angel could hide -- either someone would've noticed a moving statue disappearing people, or there'd be too many eyes and not a lot of moving, generally.

And the Doctor thought it was safe, and he usually wasn't wrong.

The only problem now was that you had no idea where to start. Holding your credit... chip? close, you carefully started making your way through the nearest stalls, browsing what they had to offer.

Some had food that smelled incredible but looked maybe unfit for human consumption. Some had little knick-knacks and trinkets. A handful had jewelry. One had books.

You stopped to browse the book stall and ended up buying the biography of the first human president of Vipitera.

Why? Well, why not?

You also bought an Agatha Christie novel with a special edition, Vipitera exclusive cover, because you thought the Doctor would get a kick out of it.

And then you were off, looking around and buying things until your arms were full -- and, in your defense, the Doctor had told you to go crazy.

It eventually got to the point where you had to make a trip to the TARDIS to drop your haul off in your room.

As you headed back to the market, you thought you felt someone watching you -- you thought the angel had somehow found you, but the feeling passed just as quickly as it had come. Knowing the angel wouldn't have let you off so easy, you figured it was something else and went back out among the stalls.

The Doctor found you eventually, after you'd bought another armful of things, and led you to a human food stall after dropping all your new things off at the TARDIS (again).

Your eyes lit up and your mouth watered at all the options.

"Pick for me?" you asked the Doctor, looking at him with big, round eyes. "I don't even know where to start."

"Well," he started, motioning at something that looked somewhat like spaghetti, except the noodles (were they noodles, even?) were teal, and the sauce was a deep, foresty green. "Can never go wrong with Yuphorian nishles and pine sauce."

"... Nishles?"

"Fish noodles. Yuphorian fish meat is that color because of the algae they eat."

You blinked down at the curiously colored meal. "It's... good, though...?" you asked, finding it hard to get over the fact it looked like candy.

"Oh, yes. It's delicious."

"I'll try it then."

While he ordered you the nishles and a couple other things, you went to find a place to sit and decided on a nice shaded table in one of the far corners of the dining area.

A cool breeze blew past as you settled into one of the chairs. Barely a moment later, something was draped over your shoulders and you looked back to see the Doctor laying his coat over you.

"What about the food?" you asked, drawing the coat tighter around yourself.

"They're gonna bring it," he replied as he sat next to you.

"Thank you."

"I couldn't leave you shivering--"

"No, not for that -- I mean, yes, thank you for lending me your coat. But... no. Thank you for today."

The look he gave you was so sad. It broke your heart and confused you in equal measure.

"What's wrong, Doctor?"

The smile he shot your way was forced, and the glimmer in his eyes wasn't from joy but from unshed tears. "Oh, nothing," he replied. "Nothing at all."

He obviously wasn't convincing, but you knew pressing the matter wouldn't get you anywhere. Instead, you decided to rest your head while the two of you waited for your food.

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

The Doctor had forgotten what you looked like when you were sleeping -- he'd forgotten what peace looked like on your face.

You were only taking a light nap while you waited for alien pasta made out of fish oil, but to him, you were the pinnacle of beauty in that moment. Of everything he'd seen in all his nine hundred odd years traveling through time and space, this moment with you was the most remarkable. The most stunning. The most breathtaking.

How he hated that he had to wake you up.

He waited, at least, putting it off until the waitress was gone and then for a little bit longer before he shook you awake.

You grunted, every cell in your body desperate to stay under to the point of protest, but he kept at it until you stirred.

"Time to eat," he told you as your eyes fluttered open. "Come and get it while it's hot."

He saw the heaviness of sleep in your eyes as you looked up at him and oh, how he adored it. How he'd missed it.

"Mmm," you replied, making him chuckle.

"I promise I'll let you rest when you're done eating," he said, pushing the plate of nishles towards you. "C'mon, before it gets cold!"

He could see how begrudging you were to get up, but you did so anyway, and grumpily stabbed at your pasta for effect.

"Oh, come now, what did the poor nishles do to deserve this?" he asked teasingly.

He saw a flicker of a smile on your lips.

Emboldened, he continued. "All that work being processed and cooked to be eaten, just for you to stab it."

That little secret smile grew, just a bit.

"Those poor nishles."

He watched as you broke at the word nishles, dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. They were probably spurred on by delirium, but it had been so long since he'd heard you laugh that he didn't care.

"Oi, why are you laughing?" he whined playfully. "Those fish didn't give their lives just for you to laugh at them!"

Your giggles grew into a full belly laugh, and the Doctor thought that if he were to die in that moment, he'd die happy, because he would've gotten to hear you laugh -- really laugh -- one last time.

Your fit of laughter eventually died down, helped along by you taking a few deep breaths and putting in a concentrated effort to stop.

"So..." you said, biting back another bout of giggles. "Ni--nishles..."

"Nishles," the Doctor agreed, watching you.

He continued to watch as you took the first bite, watched as your face shifted across a vast array of expressions, and watched as it eventually settled on bewilderment.

"What... is that...?" you asked, blinking rapidly at the dish in front of you.

"That'd be the pine sauce, made from the needles of the Yuphorian fir."

"It... but it doesn't taste like pine," you whimpered in confusion, eyeing it.

"Well of course," the Doctor said with a grin. "It's not Earth pine sauce, it's Yuphorian pine sauce. Earth pine sauce would be disgusting -- well, I suppose juniper sauce might not be. Or gin sauce... oh, there's an idea..."

He didn't realize you were staring past him until he paused and took in your suddenly stricken expression.

"What is it?" he asked softly, watching you carefully.

"I-I thought I... I thought I saw..."

Oh, no.

He turned to look behind him, but whatever you'd seen was gone.

If you'd even seen anything.

Not that he didn't believe your experience, but he was in a difficult position; you were deliriously tired and paranoid (rightfully, of course). Both things could lead to hallucinations.

He knew this, and yet he knew without a doubt that he had to take you seriously, for your sake.

"C'mon," he said quietly, moving to a stand. "We can finish lunch in the TARDIS." You nodded your assent and grabbed the food, then stood and tucked yourself into his side.

He led you through the market, through the building you'd materialized in, and to the TARDIS.

He slotted the key into the door, turned to unlock it, then turned back to look at you --

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

You didn't need to see the Doctor's stricken expression to know the Weeping Angel was behind you. You could feel its presence like a breath against your neck.

It felt like every hair on your body was standing to attention. It felt like your whole body stopped. You couldn't hear your heartbeat, but you could swear you heard the Doctor's hearts hammering away.

With a shuddering breath, you whimpered his name. You saw his eyes twitch -- he wanted so badly to look at you, but couldn't take his eyes off the angel.

"Get into the TARDIS," he commanded, "don't worry about me, I've got an eye --"

"Doctor," you interrupted, voice small but surprisingly steady.

You could see tears gathering in his eyes. He was desperate to look at you.

"I can't move."

Understanding dawned on his face, and you watched as his hearts broke right in front of you.

"I'm sorry, Doctor."

"You?" he asked in a tearful growl. "What have you done to be sorry for?"

"I'm sorry we won't have more time together."

He let out a hollow laugh. "No. I'm sorry. I couldn't save Rose, couldn't save Astrid, couldn't save Donna. And I can't save you."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. It's not okay! Why you? Why you?"

"Doctor."

You could see him struggling to keep his eyes open, now. He struggled, and soon he'd fail.

"Doctor, let me go."

"I can't lose you, too."

"We don't have a choice."

He struggled. His eyes were twitching more now, desperate for relief, and he still so desperately wanted to be looking at you rather than the angel.

And then finally, the inevitable.

He blinked.

And your world went black.

[dargeereads]

Man in Black by Julie Ann Walker

5 stars

Not going to lie, I dreamt about this book and the overlaying story arc, after I finished it! I also didn’t want the story to end, because I needed more of Fisher and Eliza, they were just too cute and perfect together <3 They experience a lot of pain in their story, and old wounds and misconceptions cloud their thoughts, feelings, and judgments. Luckily, those who already have their BIG BKI LOVE (I love that saying so much) are around to help them out. Lots of action, lots of interactions with our reloaded and OG BKI’s (and a lot of Peanut too), and a perfect set-up for the next story, both the romance and the suspense, and I cannot wait 😊

[that1nerd-20]

Carnival - Qibli x (F) performer reader

this is on Wattpad (i wrote this I did not copy)

Qibli x (F) Performer Reader

Characters: Ark 2 characters as well as a couple of random Characters I made up

Description: This is based on one of my headcanons about wings of fire. basically, they have this carnival in the town possibility (based on the songs from Rio) and it started with the sandwings (a lot of people think of the rainwings for this but I like the sandwings with it better)

Warnings: None just pure fluff

Listen to take you to Rio and Real in Rio, and any of the other Rios songs to get the feel of this one shot.

Words: 2.6kish

"Where are we going qibli?!" a loud booming voice called after the pale yellow sand wing, the voice caught up to the sandwing, she was a red and orange skywing, peril, the sandwing known as qibli turned his head towards her and their other friends who were slightly falling behind. "You'll see!" he called to her, the wind rushing past them as they flew over the mountains.

"C'mon qibli we've been flying for hours nowww!!" a dark figure said, qibli turned his head to look at his friend "moon just calm down, you all are going to love this!". His friend turtle was about to say something but then they all heard faint music, Qibli's face immediately lit up "C'mon!!" he called behind him, and he rushed towards the music not wanting to wait any longer.

There was a fire, at least 15 feet tall. Dancers circling the fire, with their wings spread. Hundreds of dragons dancing around them, or standing and watching, this was it, this was carnival, as possibility (and qibli) called it. He landed on the outskirts of the town, his friends close behind but all out of breath.

A grumpy-looking icewing walked up to the group, "you all looked like you just fought a hundred scavengers, well besides qibli, he looks like he's just heard that he's getting a feast in his honor" moon ran up to the broody icewing, and tackled him "winter!!" He had a scowl on his face but there was a slight bluish tint to his cheeks, as well as maybe a small smile.

"C'mon guys we're going to be late!!" Qibli shouted, running past the Nightwing and icewing. The rest all confused ran after qibli.

When qibli arrived on the outer rim of the group of dragons, his friends caught up to him again. "Qibli you have to stop... running...." Turtle began but slowed down as he saw the festival going on around him, they all were astonished, except qibli and winter. They pushed through the crowd to watch the dancers, as the next song began. A beautiful voice rang out in song as the music started once again. That's when he saw her, the most beautiful dragon he's ever laid eyes on, D/N.

POV: qibli

There she is. I've known her since we were little dragonets. Her body moved to the music as she sang loudly. D/N and I created this festival. It started as a small performance between us in the scorpion den, but eventually, it sprouted.

Before we knew it, it was a bigger performance in the scorpion den, to a small carnival, then to this. Now with it in possibility, there was a dragon from every tribe participating, and at the center of it all my D/N. truth be told I love her, I have for a while.

POV: D/N

I began singing our 5th song of the night, Take You to Rio, I walked around the fire as I sang. I start making my way through the main dancers and towards the crowd, and that's when I see him. Qibli. "Let me take you to Rio, Rio" I move my wings to the beat as I sway on my legs. The entire time my eyes are on him, and his on mine. "Fly away like an eagle, eagle"

POV: 3rd person

Moon was confused by Qibli's actions until she read his mind, she finally understood, and when she followed his gaze, she knew who he was thinking about. When the song ended D/N walked toward the crowd. Toward where Qibli was. They both slightly ran at each other and hugged. "Qibli what are you doing here?!" D/N asked pulling away, he looked at her "I wanted to see your performance, plus I brought some friends with me, I wanted to share carnival with them." she looked behind him to see a couple of dragons, winter, moon, turtle, peril, and kinkajou. She waved at them slightly with a small smile on her face.

"D/N!!" her head whipped around to find the voice who was calling her name. Qibli, also confused, looked around for the dragon responsible. She finally spotted a light-blue and dark green-colored rainwing barreling towards her. "Dewdrop?" she questioned under her breath. The rainwing stopped in front of her panting. "We..have..a.. " she breathed out, "Problem" she wheezed out the last part. A look of worry washed over D/N's face. "What do you mean?" she tilted her head, staring intently at the rainwing.

"We can't.. find bronco.." dewdrop finally let out catching her breath. "What?! What do you mean you can't find him?!" she stood up rapidly accidentally whacking qibli with her tail as it lashed out. "I mean we can't find him, he disappeared, and nobody's seen him since sun high today." The rainwing cowered as ripples of light green spread throughout her scales.

D/N grunted angrily, "what are we supposed to do for the solos?" dewdrop asked in a quiet voice, still cowering, not wanting to make D/N angrier than she already was. "I have no idea! We have like 3 different solos he was supposed to do!!" she stomped slightly, kicking up dust with her feet.

"I could fill in?" D/N whipped her head around to look at qibli, he shrunk a little and stared at the ground.

"I-i mean im guessing they are the uh solos I used to do... and I still um" he gulped still kind of shrinking into himself, as D/N stared at him "..remember...them" her face softened and her shoulders relaxed.

"Do you still remember the moves?" he nodded slowly, seeing her relax made him feel a little better. "Of course, I remember the moves, when we were younger every time I got a move wrong you'd put a cactus needle in my back until I fully learned the moves!".

She laughed a little and he stood up, and had a big goofy smile on his face "So, shall we?" opening his wing, gesturing it in the direction of the dancers. D/N nodded, so they went back into the group of dancers.

There were a total of three rings of dancers directly around the fire, in between each a ring of circles of dancers, as well on the outside of the outer ring. Both Qibli and D/N walked to the outer ring and got in line. They froze into a pose with their wings slightly open. "Who is singing the other solo??" qibli questioned in a hushed tone to D/N. She looked over at him and mouthed silently "Me". He nodded and returned his head to its original position. She did the same.

POV: moon

I see the way he looks at her. I'm happy for him, I know he liked me for a while, but I didn't return those feelings. I'm glad he has someone who can. I look over at Winter, and I see the one I want to be with, and I know he wants to be with me.

"I'm excited to see this performance, especially since Qibli is in it now!" kinkajou bounced in between me and winter, and looked at me "what about you moon?" I looked slightly up at Winter, he was glancing at me as well, I looked back down at kinkajou. "I'm definitely excited, he said he remembers the moves, so I'm guessing he's going to be dancing and singing.".

There was a whistling in the air. Whispers from the dancers. A ringing sound. A beatboxing sound almost.

All of a sudden drums started to ring out in a rhythm. Each of the dancers started moving with the music like it was controlling their movements. When it stopped they stopped, when it rang out they moved.

All the birds of a feather, all of the dancers sang out, like one voice. Do what they love most of all. Their wings started shaking to the beat, like a bird ruffling its feathers. We are the best at rhythm and laughter. They started moving the wings in different motions but each ring was synchronized with itself. That's why we love carnival! It was so beautiful, I stared in awe as they moved.

All so free we can sing to, sun and beaches, they call. I found myself slightly moving to the music. Dance to the music, passion, and love, show us the best you can do. "Do you see them?" I turned to Winter, he looked at me and shook his head.

"There are so many dragons out there it's hard to tell." That's when I noticed kinkajou, turtle, and Peril went to a somewhat secluded area and were dancing. Due to Peril's flame scales, she couldn't go near other dragons without hurting them.

Everyone here is on fire, get up and join in the fun. When the word fire was sung, a few of the dragons who could breathe fire raised their head to the sky and blew out a puff of fire. Dance with a stranger, romance, and danger, magic can happen for real~ in rio~. Then the rows mixed up and everyone was in a different spot. I don't think we are ever going to see them.

All by itself (itself), you can't see it coming, you can't find it anywhere else! A few dancers did glide backflips where they jumped up slightly, spread their wings, and glided over a dragon behind them. It's real in Rio, know something else (something else) you can feel it happen, you can feel it all by yourself. They all stopped dancing, the drums beat loudly, everyone's wings spread, shaking again to the beat, and they all were facing inwards towards the fire.

All the Birds of a feather, Do what they love most of all! *bum bum bum* Moon and the stars, strumming guitars! That's why we love carnival! They all dropped to the ground, their wings still spread straight up so you can't see in the ring. Then their wings dropped.

"Loving our life in the jungle! Everything's wild and free!" D/N and Qibli were the only ones standing, and she was singing. "Never alone 'cause this is our home" That was Qibli singing!

Magic can happen for real~ in Rio~

All by itself (by itself), you can see it coming!

You can't find it anywhere else!

Everyone's wings went back up. Then straight back down, now there was someone different standing in the middle. A burly mudwing. "I'm the capoeira Kinga, kinga, kinga, kinga (kinga)" he jutted his head forward slightly as he danced a little. "Birds like me 'cause I'm a hot winga" a tiny voice jutted out a tiny part "There's your hot winga". The wings went back up and down again.

There stood Qibli by himself. "Here everybody loves samba" Wow he has an amazing voice! The mudwing from before was singing the echos "I like the samba" this was astounding. "Rhythm you feel in your heart" "I'm the samba master" the dragons laying down were still moving their wings to the beat. "Beauty and love, what more could you want?" I could hear his thoughts, he was thinking about D/N that's sweet. "Everything can be for real~ in Rio!" then everyone slowly rose up and started singing again. Here's something else (something else) You just feel it happening, you won't find it anywhere else~ Everyone's wings went up again. Then everything stopped.

Everything erupted into clapping.

POV: D/N

1 minute before - before they had their solos

While everyone was singing and dancing, Qibli and I got pushed into the middle with my friend Andesite, a mudwing. Andesite wasn't paying attention but it was really loud, and we just stood there.

"D/N I have to tell you something!" I faintly heard Qibli yell. I turned towards him "What??" I asked, and he said something but I couldn't hear him. I mouthed what and pointed towards my ear. He realized that I could hear him, he shook his head, sighed - I think, and then leaned forward and touched his snout to mine.

My eyes went wide, I could feel my face heat up. He pulled away and cowered away from me. I went towards him and wrapped my neck around his. I pulled away from him just before we were to do our solos.

"Loving our life in the jungle!" I didn't let what happened to affect me, it seemed Qibli was in a daze but once I started singing he snapped out of it. "Everything's wild and free!" I had my head raised slightly then I dropped it, time for Qibli to sing. "Never alone 'cause this is our home".

POV: Qibli

Same amount of time going back.

D/N, a mudwing, and I, all got moved to where we were supposed to sing the solos from. My heart was pounding. I wanted to tell D/N how I felt. "D/N I have to tell you something!" I tried to yell over the singing dragons all around us. I have no idea if she heard me but once she turned around I knew she did. "What??" I could just barely make out her words. "I Love You!" I tried to yell. She looked at me and mouthed what and pointed to her ear.

She can't hear me. I sighed, I've got to go for it, I leaned in and touched my snout to hers. I could feel myself getting hot. I was worried she could hear my heart beating, it was so loud. I pulled away, I couldn't face her, fearing the worst. That's when I felt her neck wrap around mine, she pulled back. I was frozen. She was so beautiful. I watched her walk forward.

"Loving our life in the jungle!" I snapped out of it. "Everythings wild and free!" I looked behind me to see the mudwing laying down like the rest of the dragons. Was I supposed to do that? No, I don't think so... I hope not, my parts next "Never alone 'cause this is our home"

POV: D/N

Time skip - after a couple of other songs

Qibli and I finally are done with performing, there are still way more performances, but none where we are needed. His friends were off doing stuff around the carnival, so it was just the two of us. "Sooo.." he spoke awkwardly. It was an awkward silence. Typically this is not what it should be, but it's fine... It's just because of our little moment... I hope.

POV: Qibli

It was so awkward, she and I were just standing in complete silence. I don't know what to say. "Sooo...." Three moons qibli is that the best you can do? "Umm about that uh kiss... it's totally fine if you umm don't feel the same way..."

POV: D/N

My head whipped towards him. Did he just tell me it was fine?... I literally hugged him afterward... oh my... qibli you can be so dense sometimes. I looked him in his eyes, those beautiful eyes. "Three moons qibli, sometimes you're so oblivious." I shook my head and leaned in touching my snout to his. I pulled back and put my snout near his ear.

"I love you Qibli".

_____________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed this, im trying my best to write, I've had trouble in the past writing one-shots and just fanfictions in general, because I start a part and then never do another because I lose interest or I have no ideas

-EJ

[uniquephantommiracle]

UMMMMM,

I've got a new unhealthy obsession, of omniscient readers viewpoint.

I found it on webtoon a good long while ago,but now that I have caught up with the latest episode, i started searching more about the fandom and, almost everything has a spoiler for the novel

Soooooooo,

I can't decide if I should just read the novel too

DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE STRUGGLE??? WHAT IF I COMPLETE THE NOVEL AND I HAVE TO WAIT FOR THE WEBTOON

MY WEAK SOUL CANNNNNNNT

AHHHHHHHHHHH

[aurora-starwars]

Girls in Star Wars canonically take suppressants for their periods

…just thought that was interesting

[slasherfantasy]

DAE still use LibreOffice for writing? When I was a youngin (aka a preteen in the '05s-'10s), LibreOffice was the thing that fanfiction.net promoted as the best thing to write in if you planned to upload fanfiction to them, so naturally I immediately downloaded it and used it for all my wild teenage fanfics. And now it's like, I can't use anything else. Google docs, ms word? Just doesn't feel right. I just can't write if I'm opening up a doc in anything other than LibreOffice. I truly cannot explain it