#the fics were sponsored (thank you again for that)

[shibaraki]

I know I planned to have some fics posted over the weekend but I am dealing with a family emergency and my ma has been rushed into hospital so I’ll be mostly offline until things calms down. sorry guys

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[rkiveinmarvel]

upon a different life - james bucky barnes des. barnes never trusted you, not once. but upon a different life, he would. notes. angst/comfort, establishing relationship, slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers, i miss bucky, avengers being siblings (and weak for plot),mentions of violence,

hello! it's my bucky fic! i had a bucky fic back then but I deleted it anyway, this was supposed to be a one part but i got carried away, enjoy barnes knowing you! *i wrote this around 3am so, if i have some mistakes, i'm sorry!!*

(part i) (part ii) | w.c: 3.5k

James Buchanan Barnes is slowly getting used to in living with Avengers and the era he is in, in general, he enjoys the slowly yet steady step to forgive himself and earn forgiveness to those people around him as well familiarizing the more advanced world, but nightmares and remarks of his past action come and go; everyone notices it, especially his friend Steve Rogers, but despite this minor setback, he still move forward because it’s not every day, that you die in the 80s and woke up 75 years later. 

In terms of forgiving, the sergeant doesn’t know if the genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist have forgiven him—it’s not a secret Stark gives the money and sponsor on the compound they live in but despite his hesitation to live with them, Stark still offered him—it might be a silent agreement with Rogers but somehow, Barnes hopes Stark acknowledges how sorry he was. 

But among other things, he wishes he can finally get used to. He finds himself not getting used to you. Even the entire team knows how much James hates you; to you, it’s no secret: you’re his last handler afterall and if the tables are different, you would hate Barnes too. Before Zemo took control of Barnes as Winter Soldier, you were his last boss, a menace actually, you would let him be used. He gets used by someone, you get rich, a simple deal between HYDRA and you. But that changed, when the Winter Soldier regained his memory; with no leverage in making a deal with HYDRA, the Black Widow offered you a place to stay.

It was a nice place, really, a lot nicer than the one you lived in, except, maybe for the fact that you’re still under someone jurisdiction: while the sergeant is able to roam around the city, you keep staring at the wonderful electronic tag in your ankle: in your deduction, you believe that the Avengers are only keeping you alive because of what you know—it’s not even sympathy why the Black Widow offered you stay with them, it’s more of a business. 

From the moment you receive glares from everyone in the room, you know damn well that this is just another business. So, it is indeed a surprise, when the A.I enters your room.

“Ha, did Stark send you to check on me again, Vision?” You asked as the artificial intelligence gave you a look. Despite the team’s lack of enthusiasm with you, Vision, Clint, and Thor are the only ones who seem to talk to you. You have talks with Natasha, Tony, and Bruce as well, but it is more of a business than a talk. 

“No, I was wondering if you wish to join me, Clint, and Wanda to watch Dick Van Dyke, she seems very excited about it.”

“What makes you think she wants me to join you guys?” You asked hypothetically.

Vision nodded as he glanced at your electronic tag. “If it makes you feel better, they don’t really hate you that much. In my defense, I think you only did the things you have done because you want to survive.” You scoffed as you said that. 

“Well, tell that to Sergeant Bar–” but Vision cut you off. “People won’t always use you. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you realize you’re more than just a HYDRA pawn.” You stared at him, as he continued. “At least, that’s what I observed with Sergeant Barnes.”

“Thanks, Vision.” You gave a bland smile, as he left your room. A part of you wants forgiveness, but for someone who learnt life in a hard way, you’re hesitating to give this one a try. Yet for once, a robot was more human than you.

A year after an endless discussion between the Avengers, they decided to remove the electronic tagging and let you roam freely, but still under their jurisdiction. Somehow, Stark and Banner acknowledge your knowledge while the rest give respect to your fighting ways and quick judgment; well, all of them are getting used to you. Well, maybe except for Bucky. Steve told you it takes time, but to your knowledge, it won’t take time because it won’t happen. You accepted the terms that Barnes will not and never forgive you, you don’t blame him though, mostly you blame yourself.

In this scene, you finally learn to adjust, not going out of your room if he was outside, not training–the same time as him, and definitely not talking to him; even a spare glance, felt like a struggling pain of unforgiven lingering. The team respected Barnes more than they respected you, but somehow, it felt like you finally belonged to something. Well, atleast, that’s what you thought.

Their mission to infiltrate HYDRA failed terribly, despite the information you gave them, they weren’t prepared and outnumbered. Despite their failure, they were able to take a hit on HYDRA’s camp, it’s not much but still affected HYDRA. As the quinjet landed on the hangar, the medical team supported those who were injured. A lot of them were, including those who sometimes get out without a scratch.

In the med bay: you saw Clint and Sam—they somehow, took a toll, as you walked further, you saw the entire team taking care of their small cuts, with them helping another, they were able to close the wounds, well, maybe except for the Winter Soldier—or as they call him the White Wolf. On the back of his right shoulder, he was bleeding badly, despite having all the needed things to tend his wounds around him, he sat on the bed feeling out of place, besides it’s only a shoulder wound. 

Due to the lack of people in the med bay, you offered help in the team. As you finished to tend some of the team’s wounds including Rogers’ and Romanoff’s. Your eyes met a struggling Bucky Barnes, grasping his right shoulder with his metal arm. Your footsteps were slow as you walk towards him.

“...Do you need help?” He wanted to say no, everything part of him says no, but as he glanced that there’s no person who can help him in his injury, he nodded. Afterall, you’re also the one who patches him up whenever he gets injured in his missions back then.

You carefully clean his wound as you tend him, you wipe the dirt and the things visible that might infect the wound, as you try to start a talk. “Was it bad out there? In the mission, I mean..” He just let out a grunt, which you expected, but he replied with. “They have three more Super Soldiers and one enhanced, just like Wanda.”

You didn’t respond, just continued stitching his wound. As you finish, you put on some bandages as he asked. “Did you know?” Barnes asked.

“Did you know about the Super Soldiers?” He asked again, for a quick moment, you realized that he is still an assassin, you felt his anger and bloodlust. At that moment, you wish you didn’t work with HYDRA. In truth, you didn’t know where they were but you knew HYDRA didn’t stop making them. But your stuttering left the Sergeant furious even more.

“I–I..” That was the only thing you could say when you suddenly felt his metal hand around your neck, at other times this can be hot and daring, but at this time, you were damn sure that the Sergeant would be able to crack your neck: he could kill you. The team in the med bay immediately sat up. 

“Buck, put her down.” You assumed it was Rogers who was talking to the Sergeant. As it was getting hard to breath, James starts to explain that you knew there were Super Soldiers, in that Rogers asked you. 

“Did you actually know?” Barnes shook you, as you met the Captain’s eyes. “I did.” Before James finally kills, you continue. “I didn’t know they were stationed there.”

If this was a HYDRA facility, they would’ve shot you despite you telling the truth, Wanda nodded, a confirmation that you were telling the truth. Steve asked Bucky to let go of you, with an angered stare, he let go. As you try to catch your breath, you notice some of the bandage of Rogers came off. You reached your hand to help him but a metal hand covered your wrist. 

“Stop pretending to be a good guy, we know you’re глупая игрушка of HYDRA.” He grabs your wrist tighter. “You’re not even part of the team.” That was the last straw, you pulled your wrist away, as you searched for someone to stand with you but all you saw was them looking away from you, even Vision. You nodded as you felt some tears sting. You never actually belonged in the team. Just like Barnes said, a глупая игрушка. 

A stupid toy.

Stark spotted you, making tea in the middle of the night. “So, you’re the one that’s drinking tea.” His voice echoed in the empty kitchen. You nodded as you asked him if he wanted some, as he nodded. “Heard what happened.”

“Of course, you do.” Stark eyed you as you finally sat down and Stark rolled his eyes. “I forgave Terminator a while ago.” You looked at him.

“I know he took everything from me, but, I guess it’s just the way it is…Pepper is really good at convincing , I give her that, well, maybe because we–”

“Are pregnant…?” You asked, in which Stark immediately shook his head and chuckled. “Well, no, but, I just want peace, you know.” 

“That’s a bit out of character.” You commented. “Ah, the secret service have their humor.” The billionaire chuckled. As he glanced at the stair towards the rooms. “You did not know about the soldiers but, the information you gave was really helpful. We can start with that.” As Stark stood up. He added.

“Oh, and next time, make sure you suit up. You can tag along in the mission if you want, secret service.” Stark walked away with a smug smirk. “You sure, they’ll allow me in the field, Mr. Stark?”

“Maybe not. But, we have a higher chance of winning if they don't know what they’re up against.” He said as he left. But, when the morning comes, there’s no trace of you—only the cup of tea you shared with Tony and a room filled with your stuff, as well as, a folder with all of HYDRA’s information and coordinates in sticky notes. As the team assembled, they wondered if you were stolen from them or you were actually planning to betray them a long time ago.

And there’s only one way to find out.

As the Avengers rode the quinjet, Stark drove peacefully as Romanoff shared her side. “Steve, if we do this and see her there, we can’t save them like we did back then.”

“We didn’t save her, Romanoff. We used her…” Steve added. “But, you guys cared for them too.” His eyes fall on Bucky. “Buck, I know this is—”

“It’s a mission. As long as we’re done. I don’t care what happens to them.” James added.

As they reach the base of HYDRA, with the coordinates in the folder, they immediately search for you, but to their mistake, they fall right into a trap. Not even their strongest and the witch was able to see the trap, as they sat and chained in chairs, Natasha cracked a joke.

“This is probably their revenge.” In which none of them find them funny. Especially the guy with a metal arm. As the time passes with the endless blabbering of the man on the computer, lights and warning signs alarmed the area: as the Avengers look for an escape. It was an unfamiliar site, even for Bucky, all of the soldiers on HYDRA are getting deployed, what could possibly be the reason? As the chain, holding the Avengers finally loose, they stood up immediately, they ran in the door meeting you.

“ROGERS?!” You asked breathlessly. They were all confused but much more concerned about the blood painting your entire body. “Oh, it’s not mine.” You said in a smile. “We have to run, quinjet is outside the building.” As the team sprinted outside, surprise to see the number of bodies you took down. 

“You took them all down?” Natasha asked as the quinjet was finally visible. “Ah, yeah. I was raised by them so, nevermind, we have to go.”

It was going so well, but in the escape, a lot of missiles were aimed at the quinjet, as you, Sam, Tony, Wanda, and Sergeant Barnes fought the trailing jet in the back of quinjet, James rode a jet that is about to crash with another, he dodged the explosion but fell unconscious. Without thinking, you jumped out of the quinjet to save his unconscious body, hoping it’s water underneath all the chaos. 

As the cold temperature of water hit you, you swam to get the sergeant’s body. People in quinjet knew what happened, but in the height of the situation, they had no choice but to continue to flee; hope to save the sergeant and you, tomorrow.

The sergeant woke up in a bed made of leaves and an open night-sky. As he familiarize with his surroundings, he saw the heat radiating from a bonfire and you sitting by the shore. It was as if you sensed him.

“You’re finally awake.” You said as you walked towards him; he immediately tensed up. “Oh, right.” you placed the sugarcane on the sand as you sat down. “Tony would probably search for us tomorrow, once the sky is cleared.” You added but he is still weary of your presence. 

“What’re you playing at?” He asked, as you looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You being a goody-two-shoes, you know, none of us trust you.” He added finally, grabbing the sugar cane munching it. “And now, you leaving and suddenly appearing at the HYDRA facility, makes you more of a traitor than a help to us, so, what’s really your play?”

“...I want to help—”

“You have a funny way of showing it…” He grumbled as you replied. When you hear him grumble, you grab a swiss knife in your pocket, as you did when he was on guard but then, you place it on the sand and look at him. “I wasn’t there because I wish to betray anyone, I was there because…..” 

You sighed and looked at him. “I wanted to apologize to you. What I did in those years is unforgivable, hell, even I would be angry if I was in your position. I wanted to apologize to you and your family, the one you grew up with. I want to see if HYDRA knows about them, in that way, I can apologize for manipulating Winnifred’s only son and Rebecca’s only brother.” 

Bucky stared at you. “But who am I kidding, it is full of shit..I just really hoped because—I finally felt like I was part of a team. It’s a bit much, right? I was ahead of myself.” You chuckled. As you stare at the sea, you continue. “The swiss knife will be there, do whatever you want with it. Whether you used it for survival or against me, it’s up to you.” You smiled at Bucky.

“This probably will make you hate me even more but it truly means everything, I am really sorry, Bucky.” 

That was the first time he heard you mutter his name. His first time seeing you smile. His first time hearing you say sorry; his first time seeing you.  As the night grew deeper, you fell asleep, except for the guy with a metal arm, he fidgeted with the swiss knife and kept glancing at you. He has you, he can kill you, revenge. With a lot of contemplation; balancing his morals, he stood up, gripping the swiss knife tightly and went to your sleeping body.

He was really thankful that you were asleep.

You watch from upstairs as you see the God of Thunder, the White Wolf, and Captain America struggle with their new phone given by Stark.

“10 Bucks says Barnes will break it.” Sam told you as he stood watching the three as well. “20 Bucks says Odinson will be the one who will break it.” You added; to anyone’s surprise, it was Steve who made the screen crack. 

“Dammit.” Sam muttered as you noticed his suit. “Got a date or something?” Sam just nodded and said something about meeting his sister in the bank, as he left, you called Barnes out. “Sergeant, we’re losing daylight, let’s go.” You said as he ran upstairs, leaving the compound as well, with you next to him. 

He grips the swiss knife tightly, as he walks to your unconscious body as he shakes you awake.  “Hey.” he muttered slowly: “Did you find them? Rebecca, I mean…” In your state, you would have said something random but as you met his eyes, he was just pleading as you nodded, he retracted the knife and handed it to you. 

“Go say your apologies to them then. Bring me to them.” In that he awkwardly smiled but was sincere. “Okay.” As he went to his side on the sand, he then sighed, “It means everything, Thanks for saying that.” With a soft heart, you slept soundly and Barnes did too as the sand felt more like the best bed in town.

As you drive, Barnes asks how you find his family. “It was more of how HYDRA hid it, what surprised me is that—they don’t pick dead bodies up in the 40s?” In that, Bucky eyed you. “What do you mean? I fell of the—”

“If I was like one of the bosses, I would’ve.” Bucky sighed. “It was war back then, it was better to leave them, I guess.” You sighed and acknowledged his explanation. As you two reach Brooklyn, his eyes wander. “First time back in Brooklyn?” he nodded as he explained how different times were. He wasn’t talkative much, but you saw how his eyes lit up when the corners of Brooklyn hit him home. As we reach the cemetery, you glance at the grave.

“This is Rebecca’s and your Mom’s. I couldn’t find anything on your father, I’m sorry.” As Barnes walked out the car with flowers in his hand, you watched him but then he opened your door, “Aren’t you going to apologize to them too?” You smiled and got out of the car, “I did say that.”

We stayed there for a few minutes, as Bucky walked to get something in the car, he heard your voice talking to them as if they were still alive, it felt new to him, this side of you, it’s more warmer than before. He walks cautiously as he slowly hears a bit of your words. “Rebecca and Mrs. Barnes you have an amazing brother and a son.” 

Despite everything and hate lurking in his chest towards you, his painful experience, he was willing to give this forgiveness a shot, because he was a human and not a machine. 

As the two of you drove back to the compound, the silence was now replaced with a calmer one, which Bucky glanced at you. “Something wrong?” He asked you. 

“No, it’s just, I don’t know what we should talk about, I’m still getting used to this too. Food that is warm, going to places that don't require guards, a bit warmer home, and bright home, and a house full of people, still getting used to it, I guess.” You explained.

“Well, me and you are on the same boat.” He added assuring you. The ride back was more of a relaxed one, as you heard Bucky’s stomach growl. “We should eat something.” Before he could protest, you parked the car and you two went inside a diner. 

As you two sat, you kept glancing at the machine on the edge of the table, as you saw Bucky eyeing it as well. “What is it?” You asked him, as he cleared his throat. “A Jukebox.” but your lack of response made him look at you. “You don’t know what—”

You shook your head. “Well, with HYDRA raising me I only know the static radio.” You explained, looking away awkwardly. “Oh, it’s a music box, like a vinyl but you need a quarter to play a song.” He explained as you nodded. “I have a quarter.” As you give him the quarter, he signals you to press a button to play music.  As you two eat a meal in the diner: the low volume of Chet Baker’s I Never Been In Love Before plays, it is safe to say that two people felt more human than before and a lingering warm feeling in their chest. Safe to say, they’ve never been in love before.

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3

[girltomato]

sweet girl: the first meeting

max verstappen x reader

warnings: alcohol mention, swearing, negative internal dialogue (?)

max's brain short circuits when he meets a beautiful woman

sweet girl masterlist

somewhere in europe, late summer 2021

Max very rarely went to sponsor events, he didn't really need to considering he was practically a walking billboard most days but he supposed free alcohol wasn't all too bad a compromise for having to socialise with strangers. He'd already had all the typical conversations, the how do you dos and nice to meet yous. Surely by now he had played his part, no one would really know if he just snuck out now.

His attempt at a subtle escape however was quickly trampled as he not so subtly collided with someone. Years of reaction training had his arms moving before his brain even registered the situation, grabbing onto a pair of shoulders as he steadied himself and the stranger in front of him.

"I am so sorry," he apologised, pulling his hands away from the shockingly beautiful woman in front of him. Just his luck, of course he embarrassed himself in front of an absolute ten.

A tinkling laugh distracted him from his misery, the woman's eyes lighting up as she giggled at him. Fucking hell, the earth could just swallow him up right now and he'd be grateful.

"Please don't apologise, it was my fault I wasn't watching where I was going." Her giggles quickly settled into flushed cheeks and an easy smile and she held out a hand to greet him, "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you."

Max quickly wiped his sweaty palms against his shirt before grabbing her smaller hand and giving it a polite, firm shake. God, her hands were soft, he didn't know skin could actually feel like silk, warm and buttery in his hand like it could melt if he held it too long.

"Uhh, Verstappen, Max, no wait, Max Verstappen. Nice to meet you too." he replied, his tongue tripping over his words, still gripping her hand. Oh God, he was gonna go home and lock himself away in his house and never go outside ever again, he thought as he forced himself to drop her hand.

An awkward silence fell between the pair as Max internally begged his body to cool his flushed cheeks and to stop fucking smiling to no avail.

“Sorry, I got in your way.” Y/n concluded, moving aside and gesturing towards the room as if giving him a signal to pass. Was he really going to walk away? If he could just calm down and get a grip, he had the chance to talk to the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on, with her pretty eyes and sparkly smile and her fruity perfume, raspberry he guessed.

A voice called her name from across the room, another woman waving her arms frantically, gesturing to join her at an overcrowded table.

“Um, I have to go. Nice to meet you, Verstappen Max.” she joked, a cheeky smile lighting up her face as took a step back, eyes holding onto his for just a second before she turned and glided over to her friend.

Max stood there for another minute, a statue in the midst of a bustling room before he finally broke out of his state of stupefaction and headed for the exit. Yeah, maybe locking himself inside and never speaking to another woman ever again was the right idea.

first written fic on this acc hello!! fighting the anxiety so hard rn and i am winning. max meets sweet girl for the first time and is a bumbling idiot, fork found in the kitchen. the response on the first smau was crazy i appreciate all the support so much, i actually dont have writers block for the first time in like 2 years so thank u very much internet strangers🤍

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated !!

[minnaci]

fushiguro toji x gn!reader · nsfw · wc: 1.4k

no pregnant, just breed.

contents: HEAVY BREEDING KINK (no pregnant, just breed, as the title implies), cumming inside (reader receiving), heavy daddy kink (reader calls toji "daddy", no age-play), penetrative sex (reader receiving), unrealistic cervix stimulation (reader receiving), one (1) brief check-in, self-aware over-the-top dirty talk (which both toji and reader semi-begrudgingly enjoy), gratuitous descriptions of cum, it's just self-indulgent smut i am cringe but i am FREE

reader details: reader has a vagina (referred to as a "pussy"), a clitoris, and a cervix. they are physically unable to become pregnant, which is implied to be a deliberate choice.

a/n: thank you to my beloved monty @shibaraki for sponsoring this truly self-indulgent flash-fic through @ficsforgaza! i got a little carried away... this was supposed to be around 500 words... ahsdkjf gg no re

"i don't wanna get pregnant, daddy," you choke the words out through every devastating, soul-wrenching thrust. his cock throbs inside of you. ah, there it is— toji's ever-reliable breeding kink.

you both know you can't get pregnant. it's no longer biologically possible for you, nor does toji actually want another kid. but damn if pretending you don't want to be bred full and heavy doesn't get toji going.

"mmm, i know, baby, but your body is just begging for it..." he pushes your thighs further against your chest, making your muscles ache with the stretch and letting him get impossibly deeper. the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, and you yelp— a real one, a pained one, nothing like the sugary-sweet sobs you fake when you really want toji to wreck you.

toji pulls back immediately. your pussy gapes, mourning his loss. "color?"

"green," you say. the loss of his touch sends tremors through your skin. you reach for him, and he comes to you easily, blanketing you with his weight and pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. "why? you?"

"you sounded like you were hurting, but i'm green if you are."

"you know i like when you hurt me," you say, letting your breath wash over the shell of his ear. you can feel the way his spine shudders, arches into you— all that power, all that desire, brimming under your hands. "and you were so deep, daddy, you were fucking my cervix. it hurt so, so good."

there's a tense silence. the beginnings of embarrassment make your cheeks warm. did you finally reach the limits of toji's depravity? was the dirty talk finally too cringe?

"baby," toji growls— a real, actual growl, what the hell— and captures your lips in a bruising kiss. "you're so fucking hot. what the fuck. why was that so fucking hot?"

with an internal sigh of relief, you mentally check "cervix kink" off on the list in your head. bingo.

"can you please kiss my cervix again?" you pout and cup his face in your hands, playing up the part of sweet, spoiled pet. "it misses you, daddy."

if his hands weren't occupied with lining his cock up with your needy entrance, you're sure toji would be pulling his hair out. he makes a hopelessly aroused noise— something close to a whimper, though you're sure he'd deny it if asked— and sinks back into you, inch by unyielding, unforgiving inch.

the tip of his cock finds your weakest spot again without much trouble. you can't help but clench tight, muscles contracting against your will as he circles his hips.

"there," you gasp, chest trembling. "right— right there, again, yes yes yes—"

his gaze sharpens as you sob and writhe on his cock. honestly, it's almost concerning how easily he makes your brain go fuzzy. pleasure clouds your consciousness, and you melt around his cock. any semblance of an act dissolves into nothingness as he fucks you with deep, devastating thrusts. "are all of those pretty noises for me, baby?"

"nnngh," you whimper through a truly devious roll of his hips. you're so full you can hardly stand it.

"mhm, very eloquent," he says, an amused crinkle at the corner of his eyes. for all that you know how to push his buttons, he know how to push yours right back. there's a deliciously patronizing edge to his tone when he speaks again. "there's my baby, using their big, smart words, like 'nngh' and 'ungh'."

"stop," you whine, protest breaking on a pitchy moan. it sounds enough like toji's mocking imitation of your noises that your cheeks flush with warmth. "you're being mean."

"i am, aren't i?" he purrs. the rough pad of his thumb finds your clit. your body instinctively tries to move away, overwhelmed by the sensation, but toji's weight keeps you trapped underneath him. there's nothing you can do but accept it— accept the firm circles against your clit, the aching pressure of the tip of his cock against your cervix, the heavy slap of his balls against your skin. "but you like it."

"no, i— i don't." an obvious lie. you both know it, based on the way toji grins at you, all teeth.

"silly thing." he tilts your hips up a bit, enough to bully his way deeper inside of you. "of course you do. look at you— just a few mean words and you're making a mess all over the sheets."

he's right— you're dripping. the slick, lewd sounds of your pleasure fill the room every time he moves his hips against yours. it's messy, filthy, wet— a perfect cocktail of hormones and arousal that makes your brain melt and leak out of your needy pussy.

submission comes easily enough when all you can think of how good toji is to you, how grateful you are to have a lover who knows your body even better than you know yourself. toji tears you apart with the hunger of a feral wolf, and the parting of your flesh under his fangs is sweeter than sin.

"feels so hot, daddy—" you gasp, clinging to him. heat pools between your legs, burning through the last of your sanity. he's your lifeline, your rock, the only thing preventing you from getting lost in this wildfire of pleasure. his cock is thick enough to rub up against every sweet spot you have without trying, but the sensations only grow more intense when he grinds his hips, stirring up your insides. "please, 's too hot, 'm gonna—!"

"go ahead, honey. give it to me."

his thumb catches against your clit just right, and the heat in your core boils over. you tumble over the edge, mind whiting out and eyes rolling back into your skull. toji's cock is big and heavy inside of you, and your pussy milks him shamelessly. the tip of his cock presses against the hungry mouth of your cervix in a lewd, aching kiss.

toji fucks you through your orgasm, letting you grind and ride out all of your shakes and shivers on his thick cock. he huffs a laugh as you finally flop back into the pillows, gazing up at him with a sweet, tired smile, even as your pussy flutters around him, aching for just a little more. "there you are. there's my baby, going all soft for me. you gonna let me breed you now?"

his cock feels so good that you can hardly think, much less speak, but raw, unfettered greed claws at your ribs, loosens your tongue just enough for you to mewl out a soft, "please, daddy."

to your dismay, he pulls out, leaving just the tip of his cock inside. he strokes the part of his shaft that he can reach, using your cum as his lube. the wet sounds are sickeningly hot, and your pussy reacts, kissing and milking at his fat cockhead as if to try and coax him just a bit deeper.

"fuck." his eyes lock on place where your body welcomes him in, still so eager, so wet. his stroking speeds up, a lewd little fap-fap-fap as his jaw hangs slack. "baby," he gasps, hips trembling. "baby."

"please," you say, mustering the strength to cup his face in your hands. he looks at you, looking nearly drunk on his pleasure. the sheer bliss in his dazed expression nearly makes you cum again. "please, daddy, please cum in me. my pussy needs it."

"fuck," he groans, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as his cock throbs out spurt after spurt of cum into your wanting pussy. with the way his cockhead sits at the mouth of your pussy, you can feel his cum leaking in deep, dripping down your walls to warm your aching cervix. finally, some fretful, restless instinct inside you settles, appeased by the warm, creamy dribble of his seed.

"so good." he squeezes his cock in his fist, milking out the last drops of cum. his fingers tremble as he guides his softening cock inside of you, using it to push his cum even deeper inside. "look at you, so sweet now that you've been bred. i should keep you like this all the time— spread open in my bed with my cum in your fucking womb. would you like that?"

"no pregnant," you say a familiar sort of sweet, post-sex giddiness washing over you. you giggle. "but okay."

he laughs, sounding a bit delirious himself. "of course, baby. i know. no pregnant. just breed."

networks: @houseofsolisoccasum @interstellar-inn

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

hi hi sheep!! congrats on 300 followers!! 🎉🎉💕

i’d like to try my luck on the gacha for clubwear jamil please!

Floyd Leech: Slam Dunk

Hello Ian! ☆

Thank you so much for pulling on the Gacha of Love ♡ I'm sorry to say that you lost the 50/50, but congrats on getting Club Wear Floyd! Here is your card, enjoy! ♡ (Thank you Ian!! ♡ Funnily enough it landed on Kalim, but he was already requested, so I spun the wheel again and it was Floyd lol ♡)

If you would like to pull on the Gacha of Love too, you can find the event here ♡

Note: For this fic, Floyd (along with Ace and Jamil) are professional basketball players, and the Reader works at a coffee shop they frequently go to (in disguise/with their identities hidden) ♡

There was a new billboard outside the coffee shop, across the street near the high way. It was advertising a new sports drink, the sign rotating between different athletes posing with it. When work was slow, you and your coworker would look out the window, curious to see who was next.

"Ah, look! It's him! That guy you like!" your coworker shouted, pointing towards the sign. The billboard showed a tall man with different colored eyes, smile full of sharp teeth as he held the drink near his mouth. He was dressed in a basketball uniform, wearing a sweatband on his head and wrists. His jersey number and name was written below his picture, along with the name of the sports drink.

#10, Floyd Leech - sponsored by Electric

For shockingly good energy!

Your face heats up at their words, staring at the billboard for a moment before nudging their side. They laugh at your reaction, heading back behind the counter when a customer enters. You glance out the window, looking at him one last time before shaking your head, getting back to work.

It all started a few months ago, back when your coworker won tickets to a game happening close by. You agreed to go with them after their friend cancelled at the last minute, feeling bad as they scrambled to find someone. You weren't really a big fan of sports, having only seen clips online. You didn't want to disappoint them though, saying yes when you would have preferred to stay home.

The stadium was packed as you found your seats, close to the court in the VIP section. There was one player in particular you couldn't take your eyes off of, mesmerized by his skill. He was wild, unpredictable, even to his teammates. Rushing off and doing his own thing.

Your eyes would meet throughout the game, a grin coming to his face as he stared back at you. He seemed to enjoy your attention, taking the game more seriously as he continued to act out. He would ignore his teammates, making hook shots and dunks as the other team tried to stop him. He would look towards you after every basket, curious to see your reaction.

His teammates finally put a stop to it, having him sit on the bench until he was willing to cooperate. He didn't seem to mind at first, spending his time looking over his shoulder, waving to where you sat behind him. Soon he grew restless, becoming frustrated as he longed to be back on the court.

"Who's that?" you ask your coworker, pointing to where he sat.

"Oh, number 10? That's Floyd Leech, the team's wild card. He's really good on the court, though how he plays depends on his mood." your coworker responded, looking towards Floyd before focusing back on the game. You did your best to concentrate on the game too, watching a player with ginger hair slip past his opponents as he made his way to the basket.

While his teammates were good, you weren't drawn to them like you were Floyd, the image of his grinning face flashing in your mind. Sooner than you thought the game was over, watching as they celebrated their victory. Floyd's mood had improved since he was able to go back on the court before the game ended, cheering along with his team.

Your eyes meet one last time, right as you went to leave. You were surprised when he called out to you, grin on his face as he waved you goodbye.

"See ya around, Nickname~ Next game's in 2 weeks, got it?" he says, continuing to wave as he walked away. You stood there shocked as your coworker shook your shoulder, practically vibrating with excitement at what happened.

From then on, you and coworker would find tickets to each game in your tip jar, leaving you in disbelief every time you found one. The tickets were always in the VIP section, and (depending on the location) included enough money for a nice hotel and plane tickets.

You didn't want the tickets to go to waste, making sure to attend each game, taking your coworker with you. With each game was more glances, eyes meeting with grins full of sharp teeth.

You're broken out of your thoughts as another customer enters the shop, getting your attention.

"Hey, Name!" a man says, holding his hand up in greeting. He's dressed in a hoodie and sweats, a mask over his face and hood covering his hair.

"Oh, Cherry! How are you? Haven't seen you in a while." you ask, moving to prepare his order. He was a regular at the shop, always getting a latte and a slice of cherry pie. You weren't sure what his name was, but he was always nice, and seemed to enjoy the silly nicknames you would give him.

"Oh, ya know. Been busy with work." he responds, waving to your coworker as they walk by.

"Do you wanna meet Name's boyfriend?" your coworker suddenly asks, giving you a teasing look as they point towards the window. You shake your head, doing your best to deny their words as he walked towards the glass.

"Boyfriend?" he questions, confused by what they meant. They walk over next to him, pointing towards the billboard as his eyes widen in realization.

"Ah, I see..." he says, amused. He appeared smug as he gave you a knowing look, making you wonder what kind of expression he had under his mask.

"Personally, I prefer Ace" he states, heading back to the counter to get his drink and pie. He nods his head goodbye as he leaves, never able to stay long. From what he's told you his job seems pretty demanding, always away on business trips.

It's not until later that you hear your coworker gasp, looking in your tip jar to find two more tickets. Along with the tickets is someone's number, written next to a drawing of an eel ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

[moody-alcoholic]

Epilogue

It's over so here is my opportunity for a quick TED talk.

I do have idea's for some one shots in the future, so the fic won't be 'finished' but the main story is. I am also very much open to suggestions.

For now though this is the end for this fic. I want to say thank you to everyone who loved the story and followed it. To all the people who binge read it in one night. You have no idea how much it means to me.

I want to give a special thank you to @void-my-warranty for inspiring me through her work to bite the bullet and write a smut fic. If I was to dedicate this work to anyone it would be her. Thank you <3

I will write more Ghoap x reader in the future but for now I’m shifting my focus to my other work and the upcoming Johnny x Simon fic I have been working on. I always strive to improve with every work I put out there, so if you like this check out my other works they’re all a little different.

If you want more Ghoap stuff I will leave some recommendations here, there are so many talented authors out there who deserve way more love then me so go forth and enjoy!

Recommendations. A Dichotomy of Thought - REMEMBERWREN Ghoap x reader Harmless Fun - REMEMBERWREN Ghoap x reader Sundowning - losersimonriley Simon x Johnny Service Dog Johnny - void-my-warranty Ghost/Fem Reader/Soap ——————————

Summary: . Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe. CW: Mentions of suicide, grieving, mentions of death.

Previous parts - masterlist - Back to the start

Enjoy <3

6 months later

You’re surprised to see Johnny is waiting for you as you exit the hospital after your shift. You throw yourself in his arms.

“I thought you weren't back till Friday?” You say kissing him.

“Price got us on an earlier flight, thought I would come and surprise you.” He says wrapping his arm round your waist.

“Where’s Simon?” You ask looking around.

“Debrief, boring admin work, he’ll be back later.” Johnny says as you walk with him.

“That mean we’ve got the flat to ourselves?” You nudge him as he leads you to the car. He chuckles.

“How’s civilian life treating you?” He asks as you both get in. You quit the military a few weeks after what happened with Jack. Price managed to pull some strings and get you honourably discharged. You joined the reserves, it felt right, keeping just a little connection. You got your old job back at the hospital, the same one you and Chloe worked in. It was nice to see old faces, and new ones too.  

“You know, same old same old. We planted that tree for Chloe. You should have been there it was lovely.” You say suddenly feeling sad. You rallied with the people from A&E who worked with Chloe and you all sponsored a tree for the patients garden.

Her family gave you her ashes. They just turned up on your door one day. You had them made into a rock, then placed it under the tree. You don’t know if that’s what she would have wanted but it felt right. Johnny’s hand rests on your thigh. 

“What about you, you must have more interesting stories then the ones I have from working 12 hours in A&E.” You say smiling and pushing the tears away. 

“Ah yes, we’ve had some adventures I’ll give you that love.” Johnny says as you drive out the car park. You let him talk the whole way, it had been a week since you’d seen them and you were desperate to spend time with them again. When you make it into the flat Simon is there. 

“Thought you wouldn’t be back till late?” Johnny asked as you run into his arms.

“Price said he could handle it.” Simon says before you plant your lips on his.

“How’s civilian life?” Simon asks, you roll your eyes.

“They planted the tree for Chloe.” Johnny says from the kitchen.

“Yeah, how’d it go?” He asks, looking at you. 

“Good, I think she would have liked it.” You reply. Simon nods leading you over to the sofa as Johnny comes over with a bottle of wine and wine glasses. You cuddle up next to Simon as Johnny pours the glasses.

“What’s the latest with the Masons?” You ask. You hadn’t been keeping up with it but Simon and Johnny’s had, they’d been watching them like hawks.

“They’re in court on Monday, we’ll know more then.” Simon says. It took a month or so but finally people were formally arrested. Almost every family member who was in the military had been dishonourably discharged, and there were even talks of the Americans getting involved and also prosecuting the family.

You were warned you would need to go to court to testify, but you didn’t care. Jack killed himself, left a suicide note, seems the family was planning on pushing all the blame on him so they could try and get away with it. His note was pretty damming, it’s been big part of why they were able to get so many of his family.

They’ll lose their house, businesses everything. Most of them are looking at life in prison. You didn’t want to smile but it was good, justice and you would never have to worry about them again. You feel Johnny pull your legs up on him scooting over to sit closer to Simon. It reminded you of the first night you stayed in their flat. A bottle of wine and shitty police chaser shows.

“I reckon e’ll make it.” Johnny says sipping the wine. You turn to look at him smiling. 

“Don’t be silly Johnny.” Simon scoffs. You look up at Simon. 

"I bet he makes it." You smile looking back at the TV. Simon kisses the top of your head. You were glad they were back and back safe.

"I love you." You mumble as you hug Simon.

"Love you too." He says as Johnny's hand strokes your back. You look over at the TV. They caught the guy.

[jhkfan123]

don't forget me (like the others) | coriolanus snow

pairing: mentor!coryosnow x mentor!reader

warnings: mc death, violence, graphic, soft!snow, hysterical reader

in which: the arena tour turned rebel bombing hit you hard. snow, your boyfriend of a few years, came out barely harmed. you however? that was a different story.

wc: 2.8k

a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH AND IN RETURN.... 😏....you guys get an absolutely soul crushing fic that almost made me cry while i was writing it. enjoy!!! 🥰 (i'm so sorry)

you were looking forward to your anniversary. three years. you and coryo had agreed to celebrate after your mentor work was done. that included touring the arena and preparing your tributes for the interviews.

you needed this plinth prize. your family wouldn't make it without the prize money in your possession. coryo offered to help you out, but you knew he couldn't contribute much. which meant you had to win the hunger games, or your tribute at least.

if your tribute, jessup diggs, didn't win, you had no shot at affording university. and without university, a well paying job wasn't in the question. so you were going to attempt to make the most out of the two events planned for the day. your boyfriend offered up some valuable advice to you in the days prior. his adjustments to the rules opened up some advantages. with the opportunity of sponsors, you just had to make jessup likable.

after your sit down meeting with jessup, you weren't as confident in his ability to win. his bat bite was getting bad. infection was going to consume him, or even worse some other disease bats could transmit. ebola, rabies, even. either way, it was going to be much harder for him to win. unless the others wiped the other tributes out, and he just waited it out. coryo had suggested that strategy to you. the two of you had talked for hours last night.

either way, it was now time to make your way to the arena. coriolanus, along with clemensia dovecote, had been pulled away, to dr. gaul's office. you hadn't seen him since the tribute meetings. but now, here, outside the gates of the arena, you waited for him.

they claimed they wouldn't start the tour until all mentors were there. that meant coryo. it was good to know he would be here for this. you saw his tribute, lucy gray baird, at the front of the line. she was amazing. a singer, from what you had heard on reaping day. coriolanus had told you that he was planning to get her to sing again. she was fidgeting, waiting for her mentor to arrive. you were too. you looked to your tribute, jessup besides you. he was fairly tall and strong, but he looked weak now. the bite got worse just in the period of time between your meeting and now.

"remember to take in every part of the arena. you need to familiarize yourself." you suggested. he didn't say anything, but nodded. he hadn't spoken much in the time you'd known him. you truly felt bad for him. you weren't supposed to get attached to your tributes. but jessup needed help. from a doctor. anyone. the minute the bell rings this time tomorrow morning, he would have little to no chance of winning. he was just a boy. he was a little younger than you. no one deserves to die that young.

while looking at him, you felt someone place a hand on your shoulder. you looked to your left and found your boyfriend, coryo, his hand resting on you. you de-tensed at his touch. you were glad he was here.

"hi." he was smiling now. he placed a quick kiss on your cheek and grabbed your hand in his.

"hey, coryo." you admired his features as he looked at you. the moment was interrupted when a peacekeeper shoved him forward. probably to align him with lucy gray. you hands were pulled apart. it was sudden. the peacekeepers had no time for pleasantries. when you could see he was next to lucy gray, the line began to move.

after numerous "enjoy the show!'s" you finally made your way in. it was very dark, you could barely see the person in front of you. there was a dim glow from capitol cameras gearing towards the front of the line. suddenly, a loud click allowed for all the windows to open in the arena, sunlight shining in. you gestured for jessup to follow you, and you made your way to coriolanus. he was with his tribute, in the center of the arena.

"do you know how long this is going to take?" you asked, regaining his hand in yours. he glanced over at you, his tribute too.

"they won't let us have much time." he said. he was probably right. it wasn't until a peacekeeper came on the PA system and claimed that you had 15 minutes to "tour the arena and discuss strategy." you nodded at the announcement. "stay by me, please. i wan't you safe. none of these tributes are cuffed." he said. you looked around. none of them seemed like immediate threats. they saw and were aware of the multiple peacekeepers assigned to each one. but you still, felt safer near coriolanus.

you turned to jessup, who was already looking around the arena. you surveyed it too. there was no where to go. it was a colosseum. a big circle with no escape. no where to go besides the main circle. you knew the games would be over quickly tomorrow. but you didn't want to tell jessup that. you assumed he already knew. but you had to say something. make use of this time.

as you opened your mouth, you were cut off by a loud boom. then another, then another, and another. you had no idea what was going on. you fell to the floor from the wind pushing you around. dust was everywhere. getting into your eyes and mouth and nose. suffocating. the loud noises kept on going. then you heard crumbling. the roof must have been falling. concrete was beginning to land everywhere around you. you heard shouting. then, you could identify a more specific voice. that of coriolanus's. he was shouting incoherently. you couldn't see him through the dust that hadn't yet settled. the loud booms stop, but the sound of the arena actively crumbling continued. you then felt sharp pains. in your legs, your arms, everywhere.

glass. it was getting everywhere.

you couldn't move. you were in a state of shock. and you were flat on the floor. every time you tried to crawl your body wouldn't budge. your boyfriend was still shouting things you couldn't make out. the ringing in your ears was too loud.

then he got closer. you could hear him better now. he was repeating the same word.

"MOVE!" you heard. he kept repeating himself. you understood him, but your brain wasn't working quite right. you still couldn't move. suddenly, you heard a screeching sound. metal. you managed to turn yourself onto your back. it was a bad idea. it wasn't until it was too late when you realized that the metal beam was falling in your direction. when you saw it become increasingly near, your body attempted to trigger fight or flight. you tried to move out of the way but it was too late. the beam slammed into you and everything went dark.

the first thing you heard was your heartbeat. then you heard some sort of beeping. then your sight came in. blurry at first, but your eyes eventually focused on a blank ceiling. you took a deep breath and attempted to move your head. looking around, you identified the room around you as some sort of hospital room.

the next thing you became conscious of was the fact that something hurt like hell. you pinpointed it to somewhere on your leg, but you couldn't see. you wondered if you were alone. that was soon proven wrong when you noticed a certain blonde standing in the far corner of the room. he was talking to a doctor. the words were incoherent. then you noticed something unsettling. there were streaks of tears down his face.

that couldn't be good.

soon he noticed you were awake, and immediately rushed to your side.

"oh my god, are you up?" you could tell by his shaky voice that he had been crying. hard. you nodded and he broke out into a smile. he brushed your hair from your forehead and replaced it with a kiss. you smiled back at him.

"what happened?" you asked. his smile faded at your question.

"there was a rebel bombing. seven died." the number hurt your heard.

"seven? seven..mentors? tributes?" you asked. you weren't sure how that was going to help you.

"a mix of both. mostly tributes." he answered. you knew you had been unfit for this mentor position. you were far too empathetic for this. you shouldn't have started crying at the tribute's deaths. but you did. coriolanus immediately noticed. he shushed you and wiped your tears with his handkerchief.

"hey. remember. it would have been worse to die in the games tomorrow, right?" his attempt at making you feel better did nothing much. his answer also confused you. it would be cruel to continue with the games tommorow.

"the games are still happening?" you asked. he nodded with a melancholy feeling. "that's- awful." you couldn't believe the acts of the capitol. "which mentors are...gone?" you hesitated to even say it.

"diana and apollo. felix ravinstill is in critical condition." you had known the siblings well. and felix, well, his dad was president. this would not go unnoticed.

"oh no." you sighed. he grabbed your hand and intertwined it with his.

"it's going to be ok. you're going to be ok." there was something strange about the statement. it was like he was reassuring himself and not you. you nodded, almost hesitantly. "i should have helped you. i just stood there and shouted like an idiot-"

"don't start with that. please. don't kick yourself for it." you re-assured him. then you felt a sharp pain in your leg. you winced. you hissed through your teeth and the unexpected feeling.

"what? what? what it is?" he was immediately shot into a state of panic.

"my leg!" you shouted. it felt like it was on fire. you immediately reached down to grab where it hurt out of instinct, and when you released it, you found blood on your hands, and lots of it. "my hands!" you shouted, tears running down your face. coryo was now standing up.

"we need a doctor! please!" he pleaded. you began to sob as it was the only thing you could think of to do. you watched as coriolanus looked down at your leg. he looked back up almost immediately, which was not a good sign. through thick, hot tears you saw a figure walk into the room with a team of men behind him. you saw as they ushered him out into the hallway. that only made you increasingly nervous.

you panicked as the lights began to fade again.

you were in a new room now. this one felt more, eerie. your boyfriend was sat beside you, his head in his hands. the only thing you could do was reach your arm out to his. he immediately jolted at your touch.

"coryo what happened?" it was all you could think about.

"um.." he stuttered. his breath was very shaky. "look. you lost-" he paused. "a lot of blood. in your leg. too much." he continued. you immediately got concerned.

"too much? what do you mean too much?" you mind began to race to every possible bad outcome.

"you're in critical condition." he finally blurted out what he had been meaning to say all along. your heart began to beat much faster.

"no. no. no. no. no. no. no-"

"hey, hey hey it's ok-"

"no." you began to cry again. in panem, you didn't know of very many people who made it out of critical condition. "coryo, i-" you paused. you considered lying to yourself. you considered thinking that everything was going to be ok. "i'm scared." you shuddered. instead, you went with the truth. "i-" the words you wanted to say made you want to throw up.

"what? please. tell me." he asked.

"i don't want to die." the phrase broke the wall between tears and sobs. admitting that death was a possibility in this situation made everything worse. no matter what comfort he would attempt to give you.

"you're not going to die. you're not going to die." he repeated. he once again seemed to be finding comfort in his own words.

"how do you know that?" you cried.

"i don't." he admitted. "but i don't want to think of anything like that until it becomes the most likely possibility. if it ever does." you saw a tear roll down his face.

you knew your body. you knew the condition you were in better than any of those doctors. so with a heavy heart, you did anything but ease your boyfriend's mind.

"coryo." there was now multiple tears scattered on his cheeks. "coryo." you picked his head up with your head. "it is the most likely possibility." you could immediately tell that he had already known that. his head fell again and you heard quiet cries. you rolled onto your back, the position you had started in. you looked up at the ceiling.

you had never been fond of death. it had always scared you, since you were a little girl. you had always hated the idea of the hunger games. you had watched one year and never again. mentoring in the hunger games was hard. you hated the games. the deaths were unnecessary. and each time the buzzer ruled them out, you just thought of their family.

and now that was happening to you. you knew that the buzzer would soon rule you out. you didn't know when. you knew how. and you knew that, it was going to be sooner rather than later.

you were terrified.

"i'm scared." you repeated. you tried to move your mind to something else. you found one thing, and it didn't help. "coryo. today's our anniversary." three years. you had almost forgot in the chaos of today. "i'm sorry we couldn't enjoy it." you continued to stare at the ceiling.

"it's not your fault." his voice was stern. "besides. we are spending time together. look at us. like our own private date." his joke somehow made you laugh.

"thank you for being here. i haven't even seen my parents." you admitted.

"they are outside. they just said they couldn't bear to see you like this." you admired coriolanus's bravery. you knew that your leg was not a pretty sight. the huge gash slicing it open. it was at this moment you began to feel lightheaded. you knew the blood loss was getting to you. you knew death was getting to you.

"coryo?" you asked for him. you turned over to face him again. he looked up at you. "can i have a kiss?" now usually he was rough, aggressive with his affections. but at this command, he was soft. he gave you a soft kiss on the lips and nothing more. you appreciated that this may be the last kiss you would share. "coryo?" you called for him again.

"yes?" he answered.

"do you promise you won't forget me when i'm gone?" your voice shook immensely. he didn't even try to counteract your statement. he knew.

"i could never forget you if i tried." you heard his voice quiver. "you're my love. my one and only love. i'll never love again." he declared.

"no, no don't do that. please. enjoy your life, ok? promise me you'll find somebody else to love." you closed your eyes. you couldn't bear the thought. it pained you to say it but it was necessary.

"i'll never love somebody as much as i love you." he grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to it. a doctor came into the room. one wo had probably been monitoring your vitals from outside. all he did was give coriolanus a nod. you immediately saw tears fall from his face, though no sound was heard.

you focused on your heartbeat. you knew that time was ticking, and the doctor had just silently confirmed it. listening to your heartbeat, you noticed every once in a while, the beats would get farther apart.

"look, i-"

"i know what's happening." you couldn't bare to hear him say it. his tears became more rapid. you had stopped crying, however. you just wanted to be here with him.

"i'm going to stay, ok? i don't care how long it takes. i'm not leaving you." he stated. he tried to be loud even though his tears were silencing his words.

"just hold my hand." it was all you asked of him. "i love you." you said.

"i love you more." he replied, almost immediately. it had been a tradition the two of you had come up with. if one said "i love you," the other had to try to say it back as quick as possible. bonus points if you overlapped. the small gesture made you smile. you finally decided to close your eyes, and relax your body.

you heard the beeping turn into one long sound as you took a deep breath in. the last thing you heard was the boy next to you finally break down in a loud cry.

[penvisions]

one fish, two fish {chapter 2}

Pairing: Local! Frankie Morales x Transplant! Reader

Summary: Reaching out and another chance encounter undoes the wonderful night you shared with Frankie. But maybe a chance encounter with his friend from the bar can undo all that...

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical bad luck, angst, unlucky encounters, misunderstandings, reader gets ghosted, then frankie gets ghosted, feelings of inadequacy, recovery, ptsd symptoms, past drug use, na meeting setting, conversations with a sponsor, a lot of feelings, reader has imposter syndrome, rude people, entitlement, workplace politics, degrading language, reader has a callsign nickname but no assigned name, lemme know if i missed any (nicely) please!

A/N: kind of scared to post this, i know i have other fics that are 'due for' an update but inspiration is low as i prepare to start working again and recoup from a camping trip. this'll be the heaviest chapter, wanting to do more fluff for this fic and go back to funny moments and silly times with frankie! thank y'all for reading and as always, hope the days are good to you ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || frankie masterlist || ko-fi

Radio check for Fish, come in Fish.

Read out loud and clear, Angel. Go ahead for Fish.

Roger that, requesting communication.

Request granted. Glad you’re back on the airwaves. Everything okay?

Affirmative.

Copy that. Standby…

Phone poised in hand, you wait for the speech bubble to pop back up, indicating his return to the conversation. But when half an hour, an hour goes by you sigh and load the inactive thing into your bag to continue your errands. After a rather frustrating visit to the phone provider you had chosen, a weak argument of ‘but it was an accident’ when told that the damage to the phone looked purposeful and just in time for the newest phone release, you had sat down at a coffee shop to grab breakfast and set up the new device. Now though, you guessed it was time to get the rest of the day’s errands done.

The paper Frankie had handed you nearly a week ago had found itself tacked to the half corkboard, half whiteboard calendar you kept in the kitchen. Your eyes sliding to it more often than you’d like to admit as you made dashes through in the morning on the way to work or cooked in the evenings.

An entire week goes by and you try to put it out of your mind. New phone heavy in your hands when you settle with it on the edge of the couch, or check it each morning before work, at the office on your lunch break. But no new messages come in, just that once funny copy that, standby. Standby…. Standby….

You had thought things were getting better, but the girls at work were being weird and conversations hushed whenever you walked into the breakroom or entered the bathroom and more than two were together. You hadn’t even bothered to bring up the fact that they ditched you at the bar the night you officially met Frankie…because it didn’t matter.

They had done it and it was over. If it had been intentional then that was on you for not seeing through their false offers of genuine camaraderie. If it had been accidental, then that was on you for not noticing how short their attention spans were. If it had been to give you a chance to go home with the not one, but two guys that approached you the second you were alone, then it was appreciated but a bit vapid of an assumption of what type of person you were.

The atmosphere at work and the novelty of being a new person to the team had quickly vanished. You were now the one whose desk was piled high with files and sticky note reminders of tasks to complete that carried over into the next day in an endless cycle. The routine of it all was so monotonous and draining.

Wake up, breakfast, commute.

Work, lunch, return emails about work that won’t be finished.

Commute, run, prep lunch, make dinner, clean.

Shower, pace the house, sleep.

It was dizzying as much as the errant thoughts of visiting one of the dance clubs downtown and tracking down the sirens call of pills or powder, anything to help you get out of your head and the endlessly swirling thoughts of doing everything wrong.

But you couldn’t, even if relapse was a part of recovery. It was not a part you wanted to end up being complicit with, one you were trying to avoid with every fiber of your being. The feeling of drowning and sinking down to the bottom of the ocean an all too real one that consumes you from the second you wake up to the second you finally pass out at the end of the day. Waterlogged clothing and the weight of water in your lungs too real.

Memories of turbulent water and debris raining down into it all around you only adding to the chaos of your mind.

You could hear the higher pitched prattle of a little girl on the next aisle over and you find yourself smiling despite the exhaustion that makes your body heavy. The basket hanging from your arm is laden with a bunch of bananas, a few other fruits, a carton of coffee creamer, and a pack of gummy sharks. Just one more thing to gather was a box of oatmeal, on the cereal aisle that you turn on.

There’s the broad back of Frankie, standing in front of one of the larger carts the store offers for shoppers. He’s quietly speaking to someone on the other side of the cart, eclipsed by the big form of him. The cart is nearly full though, you can see the colored boxes and wrappers of various foods inside as he leans over to grab a box of plain corn flakes.

You’re about to call out to him, your cheek tingling where he had pressed his plush lips to you nearly two weeks ago now. But a shrill peel of happy laughter from a child that is revealed to be in the seat of his cart.

“Daaaaddy, that’s the wrong one, silly! We need the frosted corn flakes.” Daddy. Dad. Frankie was a father. Your entire body freezes as you’re faced with the reason for his radio silence for the past several days. He had been so…charming and down to earth once the miscommunication had been cleared up but apparently he hadn’t shared with you one of the biggest parts of himself.

“No, mija, we don’t.” His shoulders are shaking with his own laughter as he places the box into the cart and goes to pull it behind him as he nears closer to you in front of the oatmeal. The little girl in his cart turns her eyes toward you, catching sight of your surprised expression.

“Dad! That girl is really pretty, her dress is so cute!”

“Who- Oh.” He’s looking up from the suddenly too bright boxes of cereal with their mascots and large block lettering. His eyes widen and he looks like he’s been caught, something you don’t have the energy to dissect at the moment. But one thing is glaringly obvious, he’s a father and family man. You went out on what was essentially a first date with a man who had a family. The realization slams into you and you’re blindly grabbing the closest box of oatmeal, throwing it into your basket before turning on your feet and fleeing to the checkout lanes.

“A-“ But before he could even get your name out you were down the aisle and turning out of sight, heart beating far too fast and anxiety thrumming. The entire process of checking out and paying for your groceries was a blur, you weren’t even sure if you thanked the cashier or bid her a good day. The slam of your car door was loud as you quickly shut it behind you. The image of him across from you in a diner, the easy conversation and goodnight kiss now tainted with the fact that he hadn’t been responsive and was a father. He could very well have a wife or girlfriend and you hadn’t even thought to ask that of him, his behavior so willing to help clear the air and ensure you had a way home.

Had you misread the vibe?

Had you just not picked up on the signals he was giving you, reading too much into the shared meal?

Had you done wrong by not asking?

The what ifs plagued you as you made your way back home, realizing that you weren’t too far from where he lived, most likely with his family. Your stomach churns and your temples throb, your lunch not settling well in the wake of your fast exit.

A migraine, you’ve worked yourself up to the point of a migraine.

The rest of your evening is spent putting the groceries away, brewing a small pot of coffee, and taking a too hot, too long shower before laying down in total darkness. You don’t flip on a switch for lights for the entire weekend as you try to keep the curtains drawn over the windows and the sounds down to a minimum as the pounding in your head persists. You don’t hear your phone go off in your purse by the front door but even if you had, you wouldn’t have known how to respond through squinting eyes.

When you manage to drag yourself out of bed on Monday, the world is still too bright and loud, but you have to get to work. Calling out would be a bad reflection and you didn’t want to disappoint the boss, someone who knew someone in your family. A favor, that you had been considered for the job in the first place, especially in a new city where you had no experience or connections. The entirety of your screen was grouped messages from your brother, from your coworkers asking after emails you hadn’t responded to. One voicemail from a mechanic to check out the weird sound your car was making when you braked, too tired to look into it yourself. And then there was the block of notifications from Fish.

Two questioning texts in the joking manner dragged on from the previous thread he had abandoned. A single one of your actual name, asking if everything was okay and if you could just message him back to let him know. A missed call and a voicemail.

‘Hey, um, so I realize how that may have looked. At the grocery store. I just…I wanted to apologize- again, for the way our interactions seem to spiral. But I swear to you, I was going to tell you. I get it if…if you don’t want to see me again or feel like you can’t trust me even if you only did for those few hours in the diner. But…I really do like you, Angel. You’re…never mind. Just…reach out if you need anything or a nudge in the right direction for businesses and shops….Bye.”

You weren’t sure what to think, emotions warring with each other inside your chest and mind. The deep velvet of his voice soothing even if you didn’t want it to be. The words never mind repeating in your head over and over again. But the one thing you were sure of was that this job was turning out not to be the one for you. The pile of files stacked on your desk was so tall you could see it across the room, the cubicle partition doing nothing to hide them from view.

The seat is barely squeaking with your weight when your boss is approaching you with a too sweet smile and a big hand on the back of your chair. His fingers brush the hair you’ve kept down today to avoid another wave of the migraine that had kept you down all weekend. The sunglasses you had worn the entire drive downtown had been only mildly helpful. Your hopeful mood for a decent day swirls from your chest and down to the bottom of your stomach, settling heavily.

“My office. End of day.”

“Yes, sir, of course.”

The day is a blur of emails, finishing up file notes that aren’t even under your name, of a salad you forgot to add dressing to, and finally you’re sitting across from the boss with your bag settled in your lap.

“It’s been brought to my attention that you’re having trouble finishing daily tasks. Most are being started either too late in the day or the day after they were due.”

“I’ve submitted everything assigned to me on time. And while I have no problem with the additional tasks, the submissions that are late tend to be the ones dropped off on my desk after I return from lunch.”

“Then perhaps you need to skip lunch in order to ensure the get completed.” He’s not even looking up from the paperwork he’s going over, the scratch of his ballpoint pen never stopping as he makes notes on it and circles large chunks of text.

“Excuse me?”

“There have been a few complaints that you aren’t doing enough to aid your superiors, they rely on new people to help pick up the slack. The files moved under your name for completion often go undone. A few complaints have been made about the language of your email signoffs as well. The phrase ‘passive-aggressive’ has been brought up.”

“So I’m getting reprimanded for work other people aren’t completing? And then scrutinized for the more than professional communications I ensure to include when emailing finished work to the people responsible for it?”

“We all work together here, there is no ‘my work, her work, his work’. We all help each other to get stuff done in a timely manner.”

“There certainly is. I have files assigned to me, Shannon has files assigned to her. Mark has filed assigned to him. Even if their files are dropped off on my desk to be done, that doesn’t negate the fact that they aren’t assigned to me.”

“Then perhaps you need to start taking work home. But at home hours are a privilege, so there will be no compensation for-“

“I quit.”

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from the paperwork, surprise coloring his features.

“I quit, I’m not about to play office politics with you all. If someone has a problem with my work or the way I speak, then they should confront me and not run off to HR. I haven’t done anything wrong to warrant this write up.”

“I see…” His hands are clasped over that damn document, the pen neatly lined up beside it. He’s schooled his face into one of thinly veiled politeness, but you can see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Yup, thank you for the opportunity.” You go to shoulder your bag, the strap falling from your fingers as his next words. It thuds to the floor, but you don’t reach for it.

“Not much of those for…someone like you.” He’s not even looking at you, his eyes focused on the bag partially opened on the floor. On the prescription bottle peeking out from the now busted zipper.

“A simple ‘thank you for your service’ goes a long way, you know. But it’s nice to know you don’t really give a fuck what I’ve sacrificed for you all to sit here in your offices all day and make fun of me for how I dealt with the things I’ve see and experienced.”

“Most people don’t turn to hard drugs to deal with the difficulties of life.” The words sting as they cut into your chest, the judgement and disgust aching. It’s always shocking, the ways in which people react to the way your life had played out. The way you had no choice in how it played out. The drugs hadn’t been your choice nor your preferred poison. The allure of them had been born of a too strong prescription, written for you at the same time the paperwork for your retirement had been drawn up.  

“And what’s so hard about your life? The fact that you’re sleeping with your secretary and you don’t want your wife to find out? Oh, the cliché of it all. You dug that hole yourself, put yourself in that situation.”

“And you put yourself in the situation of serving during a war.” But you’re even less prepared for the words as they slice into you, digging deeper than the first. You’re sure blood is visible through the silk of your office appropriate top, the blazer over your shoulders allowing for the damage to be seen across the pristine desk.

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t put this job down on your resume, you won’t be getting any kind words from me should another employer call.” The dismissal is expected, the call he’s sure to make to inform your family friend is as well. A call to you in the evening already draining what little energy you had and it hadn’t even happened yet.

“Gotcha.” Chair clattering as you stand, you don’t even return to your desk or retrieve your Tupperware from the sink in the breakroom. You feel the eyes of too curious people follow you as you cross the open space, whispers sprouting as soon as you pass. Fuck them, fuck all of them. You need a job but not bad enough to put up with whatever fresh hell was going on there.

You’re blinded by the brightness of the outside world when you push through the front door, the lady at the front desk bidding you a good day in too chipper of a mood for you current ability to handle. Your breath is punched from you as you collide with something solid. You feel hands grip your upper arms and help prevent you from careening to the ground.

“Woah, hey. Oh! You’re the woman Fish was talking about! The one from the bar.” You glimpse that tightly curled, dark hair over a handsome face as you steady yourself and step back. Brown eyes so bright in the sunlight they remind you of Frankie’s in the fluorescents of the diner and your stomach flutters.

But it’s his friend, not him. Right outside your former place of employment, the attempt at a new life that was quickly crumbling from under your feet.

“Yeah, your buddy is a real piece of work.” Tone scathing, you can’t help the way it curls your lips as it’s given breath. Ire at yourself and shame at the way you had hoped for the smallest moment that he would turn out to be something good filling your chest uncomfortably.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s taken aback by the bite in your tone, his easy smile turning upside down, jaw clenching tight as he watches you with narrowed eyes. Defensive, not something you were willing to deal with as you feel your fingers twitch and your stomach drop. The flare of emotion dissipating as soon as it had flared to life.

“Just…forget it. I’m sorry, I just quit my job and I’m a little…”

“Let’s grab a coffee, I’m sure we can work out something.” He’s so earnest, his dark brown eyes catching the afternoon rays of sun. Such a small, well-meaning smile making your heart soften and your quick judgement of the man back at the bar melt away.

“I don’t know you and you don’t know me, what-“

“I work for the PD and one of the guys in our friend group, he works for the military still. Does recruitment and works in the VA. I know we need-“

“I’m not interested in another tour, I’m retired. Probably wouldn’t even qualify.” You cut him off still, unable to even begin to entertain the thought of donning a uniform again. Of the slick updo you had mastered to pull all of your hair up and out of the way. Your skin prickles as the hot feeling of shrapnel embedding itself into your side blooms, all to real as you stand in the middle of the sidewalk downtown.

“No, no, god no. I wouldn’t either to be honest. But depending on your skill set I know they need mechanics and technicians. Explosives expert, right? Means you’ve got engineering skills.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Fish was very chatty after your little diner date.”

“That was three weeks ago.” Denial is on the tip of your tongue at his description, but that’s what it had been: a date. With a man who hadn’t told you of his family.

“Yeah, and he’s been a bit of a bummer since you haven’t contacted him since.”

“Look,-“

“Santiago Garcia. Pope was my callsign. Whichever you prefer.” His large hand is warm as it reaches for the one you were trying to wave him off with. Electricity sparks and you feel it travel up your arm, momentarily shocking you before you pull your hand away. A sheepish smile and mumbled apology from him at the mishap lightens the mood a little, something about how the shirt he’s wearing has been making it a common occurrence today. The need to go shopping for more dryer sheets humanizing him further.

“Look, Santiago. I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I just really want to go home and eat my weight in Chinese takeout, okay?”

“Okay, I get that. Believe me, I more than get that, but-“ He’s pulling out his wallet, a thick card is being offered to you with his name and contact information printed on it. “Just consider it, yeah? We all gotta stick together, civilians don’t understand even if they try to. We can find you work, something that’ll keep your hands busy and your mind occupied. Office work doesn’t suit you, you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to it, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me, hermosa.” And with another charming smile, he’s back on his way down the street, his destination unknown to you. Sighing, you pocket the card and make your way around the building, waving at the security guard that walked up and down the block throughout the day. Your truck is dirty, washing it pushed back further and further as a storm closes in on the coast and inevitably travels inland toward you. The thought of heavy rain and whipping winds turning you off from the waste of water, suds, and an afternoon you could spend looking at things to do around the city.

When you go to turn the key, nothing happens. No clicking, no beeping of the dash lighting up, nothing.

“Fuck.”

Shrugging out of your blazer, you fix your hair up in a messy bun to get it out of your face and pop open the hood. But it’s useless, everything looks to be in working order. Leaving only the possibility of the alternator or battery having died and left you stranded. You’re sure you have a reader for the battery…at home in the garage. The card shoved in your back pocket burns into your skin, prompting you to pull it away and dial the numbers printed in a nice font.

Two rings and it picks up.

“Santigo, it’s Angel.” He doesn’t ask what’s wrong or if you’re okay. Only your location.

“I’m just down the street, turning back around now. The parking lot just behind the building?”

“Yes, I- thank you, Santiago.”

“No problem at all, hermosa.”

“You said you need engineers? Where exactly?” He’s looked over the mechanics of the vehicle just as you did, diagnosing the problem exactly the same. Something unable to be fixed at the moment. He glances up at you under his long lashes as he types out something on his phone, an instant response buzzing.

“Someone should be here in a few, my friends are just down a few blocks. One of them owns a gym and we hit up the dive bar across from it every Monday.”

Nodding, you try to recall the buildings he’s talking about. But you haven’t explored as much as you’ve wanted too. Throwing yourself into work and trying to play catch up on building secondary savings. The help to purchase a home welcome, but the house needed work that was only discounted, not covered.

“There’s a flight school not too far outside the city, where recruits are sent. They need some help that isn’t gonna up and leave them, assignments are up and they need someone reliable.”

“I don’t know how to fly.” Fleeting hope deflates and you really wish your emotions weren’t so easily pulled from you. The weekend you spent hiding away proved to have been more draining than you anticipated. But he soothes the furrow of your brow with two fingers and a hint of his teeth as he smiles at you, so close you can feel the heat of chest.

“They’ve got a few solid instructors. Fish has been pulling doubles doing the repairs and the lessons. They need a mechanic and an engineer, something tells me you’d be the perfect fit.”

You can only see the genuine way in which he’s willing to help reflected back at you, his eyes open and his smile charming. A smile is spreading across your own lips falters as the sound of a vehicle turning into the lot catches your attention. There are two figures visible through the windshield. A blonde man is backing into the spot your truck faces, concentration steeling his features. And from underneath the bill of a worn hat and through a pair of dark aviators, Frankie Morales is staring at you.

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[moethewriter]

Your fics are so so so good. I love the introspection so much. Could you do #30 on the angst prompt with finnick, if you want? thank you!

Hey Anon! Thanks for the compliment! Of Course I can. This one actually took me a hot second to think of an idea for! But I hope you enjoy it! -- TITLE: The Things We Need Most WORD COUNT: 1.1K WARNING: Fighting, not sure if anything else is worth noting under here but if there is let me know and I'll change it! TAGS: Introspection cause its me, fighting and arguing, two idiots being idiots. READER IS FEM CODED!!! Only because it made the most sense with the plot that came to mind! SUMMARY: Sometimes what you needed most was right in front of you ... A/N: Hello again all! The reader in this is fem coded just for the sake of the plot, it made more sense! Thanks for enjoying my work so far everyone! Hope you enjoy this one too, and as always I take constructive criticism so please feel free to leave that!

“You can’t tell anyone.” You said, furiously crossing your arms as though you were a petulant child arguing over bedtime. You thought if anyone could understand, he would, but apparently you had thought wrong.

“The hell I can’t!” He laughed, a small harsh little laugh that didn’t suit him at all. He was looking at you, his eyes boring into your soul, holding nothing but hurt, fear and frustration in them.

“You think I’m going to sit here and let Mags or Annie go back into that arena? Absolutely not, I can’t let that happen.” You snapped, a red tinge growing over your face as anger filled your bones. “You can’t seriously think that either of them are even prepared to step back into there. You and I both know that they’re not! So get off your high horse and keep this secret like I asked you too!”

When you had been reaped, Mags had been your mentor. Finnick had tried to disagree but with the friendship you two had, you knew it wouldn’t be wise. If he lost you, like you had almost lost him, he would be distraught. You were distraught when he had left for his games, nothing seemed to be okay after that. 

But Mags had stepped up, and she got you every sponsor she could. She took care of you and helped you make it out of there alive, back to Finnick, to her and your family. 

You hadn’t met Annie officially until you had turned eighteen, and she, seventeen. Finnick had introduced you both and you had clicked instantly. She became like the sister you never had and then it became the three of you. Annie hadn’t returned the same after she had been reaped and won her games. But Finnick and you had always been there for her, and you would be there for her now.

“If I march in there and tell them what you’re doing, you think they’re going to allow you to put your life on the line for them! They would never allow you to sacrifice yourself for them, you know!” He shot back, running a hand through his hair, roughly. 

“It’s not their choice, Finn! It’s mine. I am actively making this choice alone. You can’t sit here and seriously say you wouldn’t do the same!” An exasperated laugh passed through your lips, as you looked away from him.

Obviously no one wanted to be in this situation, everyone had been promised to be left alone after they had won. Of course Snow could never allow that for any Victors, with how he operated with them after the games. He couldn’t let his little puppets not be punished, he was incapable of sympathy.

“I would take their places in a heartbeat, you know! I would never have any of you going back there if I could!” Finnick said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Neither of you could stand to look at one another, both far too worked up than the situation called for, in your opinion. For the first time in a very long time you didn’t understand what was going through his head. Why was he shooting back at every opportunity, did he think that there was a chance you wouldn’t survive, did he not have that faith in you anymore?

“If you think I’m incapable of doing this, then you need to tell me. Don’t sit there and bullshit your way around things and not give me an answer to why you don’t want me back there. Because I know it’s not just because you're worried.” You said, a cross look passing over your face. You were done yelling, and fighting. You just needed to know what was going on. “If you can’t tell me then you need to let it go, and not tell anyone what I’ve told you here tonight. You need to respect me enough to keep that secret like I’ve asked of you.” 

He looked at you, biting his lip gently. He hardly did that anymore.

“Y/N.” He sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself. “It’s not that I think you couldn’t do it, or wouldn’t be strong enough. You’re the bravest person I know, and one of the strongest. I guess in a way this is selfish … the reason I don’t want you back there. I can’t lose you. We’ve almost lost each other at least once … I can’t feel that again.” He whispered, and you could see the tears welling in his eyes.

“But I can’t be okay with losing Annie or Mags, Finnick. I’m barely okay with the thought of losing you.” You reached out to cup his face, gently.

He looked so much younger like this, more like the boy you had met all those years ago.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

“I …. Finnick.” Your voice was tinged with sadness, and you had no idea what to say at this moment.

Finnick had never left your side from the moment you two had met. He had been there through every single major moment of your life. The day you had your first heartbreak, when you had broken a bone, he had held your hand through the reaping ceremony. He was the piece you had been missing. You couldn’t remember life before him, though you were sure you wouldn’t want to. He was everything to you.

And somewhere between then and now … perhaps you had both fallen in love with one another.  

Of course you had loved Finnick from the moment you had been ten years old, when he had challenged you to a swimming contest and you won. You hadn’t embarrassed him, or that’s what he had always said, but you ended up taking a liking to each other. .

From that moment on you two had become inseparable, there was never one of you without the other. He had changed your life for the better, and you had always hoped you made an impact on his too. 

“I love you too.” You admitted after moments of silence. “I think I always have but there was never a right time to say it.”

“No time like the present.” Finnick chuckled, small and gentle. His hands came up to cup yours, warmth radiating from him.

“I don’t think days before the reaping of the Quarter Quell is the best, but I’ll take it.” You smiled. “Kiss me?”

All he had needed was permission. He leaned down, gently slotting his lips with yours as you brushed your thumb against his cheeks.

Minutes felt like seconds and before you knew it he had pulled away from you, eyes no longer shining with tears but pure … love and joy.

“If you go back in there, both of us are coming out. Got it, L/N.” Finnick said, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“Got it, Odair.” You laughed against his chest. 

You didn’t know what the two of you did next, you barely had a clue of what would happen tomorrow … but this was the start of something beautiful. You could feel it.

[birinboom]

WIPs for Gaza

$1 donated = 100 words written on a WIP of your choice! IE if you donate $5 I write 500 words on the WIP you've chosen to sponsor.

Donate HERE then send me a screenshot of your donation, either through an ask or a dm (EDIT: From now on I'm going to start answering asks with donations to say thank you, please let me know if you'd like me to NOT answer your ask so you'll be kept anonymous!). Please note that this screenshot will be passed on to @ficsforgaza, so make sure you’ve scrubbed all personal information before sending it to me! And please don’t cheat and send the same screenshot to multiple authors!

Also, I will regularly update this post. Since reblogs don't show updates, please check this post on my blog to see new edits!

List of WIPs in no specific order:

Boku no Hero Academia My Hero Academia

Roommate Kiri (no proper title yet) Kirishima Eijirou x Reader  Quirkless roommate AU, pandemic fic which I never wrote during the actual pandemic, fluff, roommates to lovers You don’t really know your roommate well. He’s fine as roommates go, cleans up after himself, bills paid on time. But he’s rarely around for you to actually get to know him. Things begin to change when the pandemic forces both of you to stay at home and your social butterfly of a roommate suddenly loses IRL access to his friends. Current word count: 340 words Estimated ~6,000 words 1,000 words sponsored! Read the original drabble here

Sequel to post-apocalyptic shopkeep Bakugou (again, no title yet) Bakugou Katsuki, Reader Post-apocalyptic AU, adventure, fluff, light angst You are hired to go to an old nuclear facility to look for documents important to your client. Bakugou, who you’ve come to for weapons, insists on coming with you. During your mission you and Bakugou grow closer and you get to see a side of him you’ve never seen before. (I am unsure whether they will grow closer as friends, as a mentor/mentee thing, or if they become lovers. Open for suggestions on this) Current word count: 450 words Estimated ~8,000 words Read the first part here 

The Color of Twilight Ojiro Mashirao x Fem!Reader Fantasy AU, fluff, romance Dreaming of getting away from the city and opening up a country-side café, you decide to sell most of your possessions and move to the village of Faerie’s Brook. However, you would never have expected that the stories about the magical creatures of the countryside were actually real. Current word count: 2,230 words Estimated ~12,000 words 2,700 words sponsored! Read an excerpt here

Honkai: Star Rail

A second part to The Luck-Bringing Cat Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader Fantasy AU based on ‘The Apothecary Diaries’ (I need to find a better label for this), fluff, romance SO! This one doesn’t have any form of synopsis yet but I have a lot of ideas! Like a more in-depth description of Reader receiving Snowmoon, or Jing Yuan coming home after having been away for months and an epic cuddle session happens. I’m also open to more ideas!  Current wordcount: none Estimated ~2,500 words Read the first part here 

I may add more WIPs in the future.

Please note that I am terrible at estimating word counts and the fics will most likely end up longer than I anticipated ‘cause I am utterly unable to be concise.

Finished Fics

One Moment of Forever Todoroki Shouto x Reader Fluff, established relationships, camping, nature therapy, pet names (love) 🌸 1,786 words When Shouto is forced to take a break from work due to a quirk injury, the two of you decide to go on a camping trip to your favorite lakeside spot

[f1amboyant]

Will you by any chance write a carcar fic? 😗 I just recently read your girl!carlos fic and I CANNOT help but imagine CARCAR in that kind of sitation or any situation really but just girl carlos.

I’ve been lurking at ao3 but it is so rare 😔

Hi anon!

First, thank you for reading my latest unhinged fic (girl!carlos x reader truly wasn't on my bingo card of what i would write for 2024 but here we are) 😘

Second, you have put an idea in my head and just 😮‍💨🫠🥵 As I said in the previous ask (the one that inspired that last fic), a character turned into a girl is not usually my fave trope. But girl!carlos?? With Oscar??? Yes??? Why does this work so well?? I can't get it out of my head. This is TOO GOOD. It's going straight to the 'to write' folder.

Please, feel free to share more ideas about this anon! 🧡

And also. Maybe I started writing a little something. A teaser maybe? 🤭

"You're a girl," Oscar deadpanned, arching both eyebrows high on his forehead.

Oscar wasn't sure he imagined the faint blush on Carlos' cheeks (his perfectly shaven cheeks). No, not shaven. Hairless. Smooth.

"No, I'm a man," Carlos protested with a deep frown. "I'm just… You know." He gestured vaguely at his whole body, forcing Oscar to look (as if he wasn't looking already).

Carlos' brows were just as dark and thick as before, his eyes just as wide and brown, his lips just as plush. Why would Oscar notice such details, that was a mystery to him. But he noticed the differences even more. The hairless cheeks unnerved him for no reason. Too slim limbs poked from the too big shirt and oversized shorts. The clothes dwarfed Carlos in a way that was impossible usually and completely irked Oscar's mind, but they bore the characteristic 55, meaning they truly were Carlos' clothes, it was just that Carlos was… Well. He was…

"You're a girl," Oscar repeated because there was no other way to put it.

The clothes also displayed the iconic Ferrari logo and there was no mistaking the swelling curve just underneath it, distorting the sponsors' logo and that little point that… Nope. Not happening. Oscar wasn't going to look at Carlos' chest.

At his breasts.

"You have boobs, mate," Oscar deadpanned, as if it wasn't obvious and as if he just hadn't forced himself not to look. "You're a girl."

"I'm still me," Carlos grumbled, threading his fingers through his hair. Longer hair. Black as always. Falling beautifully under his shoulders.

Beautifully? Really? Get a grip, Osc.

"Like," Carlos continued, searching for the right words he couldn't find. "I'm still me, a man. But just my body is… You know."

Oscar thought hard not to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, okay, sure. Gender and sex are different things," he shrugged. "It doesn't change the fact that this kind of things happen. You're a…"

"Don't say it again," Carlos hissed.

He plopped down on the bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress and crossing his arms and legs. Oscar didn't notice how that made the swell of his breast even more visible through the Ferrari t-shirt and he didn't notice how the already short shorts rode up even higher on Carlos' thigh. Nope. He didn't notice at all. Not at all.

Was it getting hotter in there? And why was he in Carlos' hotel room again? He never should have come in there. No. More importantly, why had Carlos texted him to come over? That didn't make any sense.

"I know it happens and believe it or not, it happened to me before but just," Carlos was saying, looking everywhere but at Oscar. "You don't have to say it. Just. Can you help me?"

Oscar's brain froze.

What?

He heard wrong, right?

Carlos couldn't be asking him what he was asking.

Right?

"Sorry?"

"Can you help me?"

"Why me?" Oscar looked around the room like he would find someone else hiding there and could push that person into Carlos' arms. Anyone else but him. "Why don't you ask Lando?"

The disgust on Carlos' face was telling, no matter what his face looked like at the moment.

"Lando is like a little brother to me. I can't do that with him."

"Charles then," Oscar decided more than he suggested.

Carlos looked back at him with eyes so wide and so still it was almost scary.

"I can't let Charles see me like this."

"Why not?"

And why was Oscar asking truly? Why was he still here? He should have left a long time ago. He should have left when Carlos had opened the door, half hidden in the shadows of the hallway and refused to show his face until he had closed the door securely. He should have left the moment he had laid eyes on Carlos and almost lost all sense of reason.

He shouldn't have come at all.

"Me and Charles, it's… It's complicated. I just can't, okay?"

"Okay."

It wasn't okay.

"You realize what you're asking me, right?" Oscar said, taking a step forward, like it could prove his point. What was his point, again? "Because this?" He gestured to Carlos' body, the body of a woman, no doubt about that. "There's truly only one way I can help you with this. You know that, right?"

Carlos softly bit his lip for a brief second, immediately followed by his tongue wetting the invisible indentation left there. Oscar was looking. He was looking so bad.

"I'm aware," Carlos said.

"And you're still asking me?"

"Yes," Carlos huffed. Like he was asking something so trivial and Oscar was being difficult about it. The nerve of this guy truly. This woman. Man. Whatever. "Stop stalling, Oscar." The r rolled on Carlos' tongue, unusual for Oscar's name. "What do you say?"

Truly, Oscar should have left a long time ago. Truly, he never should have come at all. Because now. Now this was an opportunity he couldn't pass. Now, he was tempted to say…

"Yes."

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Forty

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, fluff

— WORDCOUNT: 3.4k

— A/N: Here it is 💚 Finally at an end. Thank you to everyone who's been following this fic, and thanks again to @localravenclaw for requesting it for @esolean. It was a great adventure taking this story from prompt up to this point. It's been almost one year to the day since I started writing it, so it is fitting that the final chapter is posted now. I hope you all enjoy it!✨

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir @thiefofthecrowns

I

Tom was on a train, riding back to England. It wasn’t a dream anymore. His cabin seemed more comfortable than it did last time and the view outside was decidedly serene. There was no sign of the chaos that was unfolding back in Italy.

A warrant had been issued for Ambrogio Oso and the Swiss authorities fell under criticism for their obstinate lack of cooperation. The Italian police were convinced he’d struck a bargain with someone so that he would not face extradition. He was clearly connected with the Roman underground and old rumours of his involvement with the Mafia surfaced once more. Since the conflict involved the French-speaking part of Switzerland — Oso was said to have settled in Geneva — the Swiss asked for mediation from France, who delegated Mr. Jean Monnet to solve the issue. An evening paper in Rome described it as “an underhanded excuse to leverage the authority of the ECSC”, of which Italy was a member but not a more important one than France. This opened the door for all manner of political and economic experts to weigh in and stoke the already bubbling dissatisfaction with the ECSC as a whole.

Support for law enforcement in Italy was already wavering and the amount of resources being wasted to chase the suspect in the murder of a controversial aristocrat was seen as an insult to the public in a time of economic strife. The exchange rate with most foreign currencies, especially the dollar, remained pitiful, which no doubt contributed to the influx of spoilt and noisy Americans among other undesirables. The fiery murder of Baron Agarda at the hand of either an elderly employee or — the second most likely suspect — a young French national with a record of public indecency, was considered an act of divine intervention either way.

It amused Tom, thinking back now to how keen the inspector was to resolve the case specifically because of his yearning for public approval. He bit his lip to keep from chuckling as he read the Corriere Della Sera. Perhaps he would clip the article and keep it as a memento of his fun little vacation.

He had a moment of compassion for Donatien… Fleeing to Switzerland in the hope of reuniting with his erstwhile protector and would-be sponsor, Ambrogio. As soon as the boy was seen standing outside Casa Ur that day, the Carabinieri knew they had their man. Tom had only helped them confirm it. He so loved hot-headed people, their brains as soft as pudding. And it had certainly taught him a new respect for the art of invisibility. Of course, him planting Donatien’s ring with the bloodied clothes of Clement probably had more to do with it.

He sighed in quiet satisfaction and placed the paper aside. Before him sat the cursed book, the cause of all that trouble. The intrigue, the heartache, betrayal, and death. He supposed it was only fitting. Books like that had a destiny, and a price, and the will of their maker prevailed above the petty wants of their mortal caretakers. It just so happened that the price of the Delomelanicon was not gold or silver or banknotes, but blood… and a couple of souls.

The view outside his window never changed. They had crossed a frozen Italy softly veiled in white and now he couldn’t say exactly where they were. Maybe it was France already. He could see frozen vineyards in the distance and a crown of crows above. There was a light over everything spreading like spilt milk but it came from nowhere, no moon, no sun, as if the very sky was a gaping hole revealing a void of white. Perhaps there was a sea of souls behind that firmament and only in days as cold as this would they appear… But Tom could never count himself among their number. He had made sure of it, in more ways than one.

He could only imagine the furore that was to come in the magical community among those in the know once Burke let spread the word he had the book. Buyers will be crawling over each other like beasts in a pit, and it would likely fall to Tom to skin the price off of their monstrous backs. What’s another heirloom or two compared to sacred knowledge? Yes, he would not let this opportunity pass him by, not after everything he’d been through… And he knew of more than one collector who would part with precious relics for a chance to own that book. After all, demonic tomes that the Ministry knew nothing of had many uses for many wizards, and he intended to milk those amateurs for everything they had. Perhaps, he amused himself, he might get Mr. Malfoy to pay for it again — and no forged folds of muggle bills this time… Tom estimated he might even squeeze three Horcrux-worthy items from the old fool.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Just thinking of all the things we’ll get up to in London.”

“No, no, it wasn’t that kind of a grin.”

“Oh, was it not? What kind was it, then?”

She smiled and, like a cluster of writhing snakes, uncoiled to leave her nest of fur and scarves behind and join him on his side of the cabin. Tom kept her comfortable and warm, weaving around her soothing spells of warm fumes that smelled like her favourite tea and conjuring for her the most luxurious and soft accoutrements. After all, she would find precious little of any of it in London, especially in his cheap one-bedroom flat. And as a reward, she pinched his cheeks and ruffled his hair and smiled with love and adoration at him.

“That was a very bad idea kind of grin,” she said.

“So? It’s not like I ever got us in trouble before.”

“You mean aside from theft and murder and giving false statements to the Carabinieri?”

“Those, I’ll remind you, are exactly the sort of things that got us out of trouble.”

“And breaking my heart?”

“That was only temporary…”

“Well, you certainly made it seem not-so-temporary.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a compliment,” she grumbled.

Tom reached up and grabbed the back of her head, her hair soft beneath his fingers, and pulled her in for a kiss.

She understood why he’d done all of that. He knew she did… It was imperative that the Carabinieri have no idea they were together, especially if he wanted to make the inspector think he had been Donatien’s lover. He explained everything to her as he helped her hurriedly pack in the middle of the night before they made for the train station. It had been hours before she believed him but with that morning’s newspapers in their hands, she slowly accepted that Tom had done all of it for her. The lies he wove, once she saw them brought to completion, made as much sense to her as they must’ve done to the Carabinieri. An aristocrat running an underground network for rich old perverts, an illegal book trade, payments made in the form of boy flesh, love affairs and subtle murder, it was all easier to believe than magic and demonic books.

And although it hurt Tom to paint Ambrogio as the hero, he had to admit it was a neat little plan. It certainly worked well to draw suspicion away from her. The foolish inspector was only too eager to believe that a delicate lady like her would never hurt a soul. Of course, Tom knew better — poor Clement. She, however, still didn’t know that he knew about that. And that’s how it was going to stay. She may not have been blameless in her own mind, but she could at least imagine that her soul was still untainted in his eyes.

She sighed into his kiss and wrapped her arms around him, clinging to his neck, her soft body melting against his. Tom held her tightly, claws sinking in, as the train carried them further and further away. She was all his now and nobody could come between them anymore. He would find a way to live forever with her — and having the Delomelanicon opened paths for him that weren’t there before. And if anything, her being a muggle should work in his favour. Her mind was innocent, a blank sheet with no preconceptions, and for her, magic was still a wonderful thing. There was no good or bad, no right or wrong, it was all beautiful to her, and Tom would be there to watch her discover all of it, to teach her as she went through the same waves of wonder as he did as a child. Hers was the perfect mind to accept what he suggested without fear or prejudice.

She pulled away after a lazy patter of kisses and he caught her licking her lips when he opened his eyes. He smiled and brushed his thumb against her cheek. She looked positively drunk on love, just as he liked it.

“I can’t wait for you to see London… It’s a ruin, and atrocity. You’ll hate it just as much as I do,” he said with a smile.

“Are you sure I won’t be a burden?”

“Having second thoughts?” he chuckled. “We’re a long way from Rome already…”

“I just…”

She struggled to find her words. Tom waited, but he already knew what was on her mind.

“It will be the first time I’ll be useless,” she finally said.

He cupped her face, the warmth of her skin so intense against his skin it penetrated him to the bone.

“You will never be a burden,” he said. “I’ll teach you potion-making, there’s no silly wand-waving involved in that. You can dabble in alchemy too if you want. I’ve salvaged some books on it from the Baron’s collection just for you.”

“Want me to discover the Philosopher’s Stone to prove my love? Is that it, Tom?” she laughed.

“Great minds do think alike,” he grinned. “But no. You can prove it in far simpler ways.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a giggle as he pulled her in his lap.

II

They arrived in Paris. From there, they would have had to take another train to Callais and then the ferry, a tedious proposition after everything they’d been through.

“Are you glad to see it again?” he asked.

“I don’t know… It looks different this time.”

He cast a subtle charm on their suitcases to make them lighter and carried most of them out of the train station, diverting their course without even asking. They would not leave Paris that night.

It was a dizzying feeling, being free… Between the Italy job and returning to England, Tom could do as he liked. As for her, this was the first time in years she’d been out of a job and with him at her side, she could go anywhere, do anything, at least for a little while. He booked for them a fancy room at a hotel with a view of the Arc de Triomphe and they decided to see none of the places they’d seen before together.

They explored Paris as if they were strangers to it, stopping at the first café they spotted, going into antique shops tucked between old streets, sitting by modest fountains in parks with no name and petting every stray cat along the way.

On their second day, he took her to Montmartre without specifically saying why, and she was so used to the mysteries that surrounded him that she didn’t even ask.

“Are we still using fake money, by the way?”

“We are. But not where we’re going.”

“Pity. That taxi driver was really nice.”

“He fancied you.”

“Do you think so?”

“Have you ever known a Frenchman to be polite without good reason?”

“Well…”

“And don’t mention Donatien.”

“But he always was nice to me.”

“He was a thief and a liar.”

“But Tom, so are you.”

“I suppose you have a type, then.”

He took her to La Place Cache where he bought her sweets and trinkets. They were hardly more than parlour tricks, but it was real magic she could hold in her hands. Passing through the statue made her dizzy, but actually seeing the place, hearing the sounds, tasting what he bought her, was thoroughly intoxicating. Tom smiled, remembering something of what it was like for him to first see Diagon Alley. It was a weakness of his to want to impress her, and magic sure did that… The whole day, she spoke of nothing else. The littlest thing mattered so much to her and it made his heart grow ten times over in his chest.

“Can we get some of those moving photographs before we leave?” she begged with a jumping chocolate frog clutched in her hands, melting away.

“Of course we can. What of?”

“Something wild… Something beautiful. A scene of nature with swaying trees and drifting clouds and bunnies and deer passing by.”

He got her a pretty landscape photo of a forest and she spent the whole way back to the hotel looking at it, her head resting serenely on his shoulder. It helped Tom decide what they should do on their final day there.

She wanted to see something untamed, entirely different from the marble monuments of Rome, so Tom took her to the Vincennes Woods on the eastern outskirts of the city. It was an overcast day and nobody else seemed to be travelling there, which suited them just fine.

They got blissfully lost after fifteen minutes of wandering aimlessly about and kissed between the grey shrubs by the lake. They found strange mansions tucked among the trees, and statues, and a marble birdbath with an owl cleaning its feathers in it.

“I saw a lot of owls there…”

“Where?”

“Yesterday, on the magic street.”

“You mean La Place Cache?” he asked with a cocked brow.

“That’s the one. Why do they have so many?” she asked as she hooked her arm around his.

“We use them to send letters.”

“Owls?”

“They’re highly intelligent. Best sort of bird for it.”

“So do you have a mailing owl at home?”

“No, not anymore. I used to when I was at school.”

“What was its name?”

“Morgana. She was a great horned owl with black and grey plumage.”

“Awww!”

“She was very noisy. And a glutton. She ate half a rabbit once that she caught out in the field and dumped the carcass on my bed.”

“I love her.”

“Sold her when I was about sixteen, didn’t need her anymore. Bought a diary with the money.”

“I want a pet owl…”

“Well, that can be arranged,” he smiled.

Fallen leaves bunched up around their feet, softening their steps. The sky was all but covered by the crowns of high trees and birds sang all around them. Tom created motes of light that lit the path when the forest grew the thickest, and they kept on walking.

He found a snake to speak to as well, an innocent green grass friend hidden in a winter burrow. Tom bent down and called her over as he invited the snake into his palm. Her eyes shone as she watched him speak in Parseltongue.

“Can I learn that?” she asked.

“Afraid not. It has to be inborn.”

“Not fair!”

“Here,” he said, holding out the snake in the cup of his hands. “Hold her, she won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t know, Tom…”

“He said you’re very pretty.”

“Liar,” she mumbled, but took the new friend anyway.

It hissed and shivered pleasantly, its muscles coiling and relaxing.

Tom laughed. “She says your hands feel lovely. She wants to stay there.”

“Oh no… How can I ever put her down now? Poor snake, down in that cold, dirty hole in the ground…”

Tom hissed and told the snake to kiss her. It did, slipping its forked tongue out to tickle at her pinkie finger. She gasped and Tom could see her face light up with sweet affection.

“She is so darling! Tom, I want to keep her…”

“If only you liked my kisses that much.”

“I do. Shut up,” she smiled, gently starting to pet the snake’s small head with her thumb. “Tell her she’s pretty too. That she has lovely scales.”

Tom’s smile turned a little sharper. “I’m starting to regret introducing you two.”

“Tom, tell her!”

He sighed and with a toothy smile conveyed her praises to the snake. Its lithe body shivered in delight and it nuzzled the cushion of flesh beneath her thumb, tail curling around to hide its eyes.

“Awww, she’s shy!”

“What a showoff.”

“Don’t be jealous.”

“Why not?”

She petted it a while longer then bent to put the snake back on the ground. As it slithered into its home she covered the entrance lightly with leaves, tucking the creature away for the winter. As for Tom’s jealousy, she soothed that with kisses beneath the swaying tendrils of a willow tree while he played at being angry for a few moments longer.

They eventually found the path that led out of the forest with the sunset and she gathered acorns as they went. The last bus took them to the hotel and Tom forged enough French banknotes for a feast. Her sense of honour protested again, at least until the first eclair touched her lips. Tom’s lips followed close behind to lick the chocolate from the edges of her mouth.

III

The North Sea was sleek and docile, swaying them in unfeeling waves like children being lulled to sleep. The sky had disappeared again, taking the sun with it, and they were left once more with a white void above. Everything had a feeling of finality about it akin to being doomed to death, but there was a hint of resurrection too. For Tom, it was as if returning from the underworld. For her, beginning a new life.

Surrounded by other passengers going about their ordinary lives, the two of them felt like the carriers of a great secret — which in a way they were. The story in the papers about the hunt for Ambrogio kept evolving but on pages further and further in the back. Nobody had been speaking of it in France, and now three days later it was as if it never happened.

They were still full of sweets and wine and lazy from the night before but they treated themselves to the snacks on the ferry as well and fed treats to one another in a hedonist repose. When she got tired, she slid down to lay on Tom’s lap as they sat beside the window atop red cushioned seats.

“Do you think we’ll be happy in England?” she asked.

“I never was,” Tom shrugged. “Were you happy in Italy?”

“I think so,” she said. “I had friends there, you know. And I had you.”

“And you have me still.”

She looked up at him, her eyes catching his upside down, and smiled. Tom held her tighter, feeling suddenly possessive in the way he got when he thought of his old diary or his grandfather’s ring.

“Well then, here’s one reason to be happy.” He leaned down to brush his lips over her temple. “Even if you won’t be happy in England, you’ll never be miserable on your own again.”

Her giggle was a crystalline chime and she reached up to kiss him. She curled her fingers in his hair and held on like they were sleek black reins to let him feel her possessiveness as well. Tom parted from her lips and sighed, but smiled. She was in his arms, soft and comfy on his lap, sweet on his lips, and filled with love. She smiled back at him as her hand still lingered in his hair, twirling a stray lock around her finger.

“I can’t wait for us to be alone,” Tom said.

“I’m sure,” she cocked a brow.

But that wasn’t how he meant it.

“We’ll have an eternity together. You’ll see. At the end of time, there will only be the two of us left.”

He could tell she couldn’t quite understand, and even if she did, he wasn’t certain she’d approve yet. But then again, she didn’t need to. Tom brushed a strand of hair off of her forehead and smoothed his thumbs over her brows. He’d clear a path in her mind, just as he’d carved a place for himself in her heart, for immortality.

“You’ll see. I’ll make you want to spend eternity away. With me.”

“Oh, silly Tom. I already do.”

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 27 Memory

(Hey it's the practically tradition, annual future fic! Spoilers for Endwalker's patch storyline.)

“Did you want the radio on this morning?” Tillie asked as she set out breakfast.

“Please,” Iyna answered, easing herself into her chair. Her right leg was stiff and aching this morning thanks to a shift in the weather. Even Viera grew old eventually, though she had never expected to be one of them with all the adventures and danger she had been through in her long life.

Tillie turned on the radio, the morning host going over said weather report while Iyna ate. There were also the morning’s newspapers to peruse. She liked to keep a few subscriptions rotating, to see where the biases were and who she had to write stern letters to.

Well, dictate to her assistant. Her handwriting was still shite, and her typing skills weren’t as good as they used to be. Her wrists and fingers ached too easily these days.

The weather report ended, with a brief word from the morning’s sponsor—some chocolatey beverage powder—and the next forty-five minutes of music began before general news. There was a brief identification of the song title and singer if it had lyrics, but otherwise the announcer remained silent.

Iyna was chewing on jam-covered toast when notes she had not heard in decades struck her ears. They had none of the magic of the old minstrel’s performances—regulations wouldn’t allow it for many good reasons—and there was a modern stylizing, but the song was unmistakably one of his, commemorating and embellishing on one of the Warrior of Light’s victories.

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. It had all begun with a map they hadn’t been sure was real. They had found the treasure—and a gateway to the Thirteenth, and thus had begun a new adventure: to search the Void to find the lost Great Wyrm Azdaja, sister to Vrtra, the Satrap of Radz-at-Han.

They had not expected the twists and turns along the way. Had not expected Zero, or the Fiends, or Golbez. None of them had expected Zeromus, and the dive into Golbez’s domain on the moon’s reflection to fight the draconic voidsent.

Iyna remembered how close it was; the cracks in reality between the Thirteenth and the Source, the creature’s rage as it hammered them again and again with draconic void magics. Lotus draped over C’oretta’s head as she flopped to the ground. Dark had her axe that day, standing before the others, heaving and snarling as the darkness attempted to reconstitute. Aeryn straightening, rapier ready, about to rush in again. Zero’s hopeful light, able to pierce the deepest darkness. Vrtra’s call. The simulacra falling as a small dragonet manifested with the help of her brother’s Eye.

The song was coming to an end. “Who was the artist?” Iyna asked. “I missed it.”

“I don’t think they said yet,” Tillie replied. “Probably after, before they introduce the next one.”

Iyna nodded, and listened for the announcer. She smiled as he identified the modern artist as Nadim Ranaz, commemorating the two hundredth anniversary of Lady Azdaja’s return with a new rendition of the classic ballad. Ranaz was also a distant blood relation to the Warrior of Light, and his musical interests included rediscovering and modernizing the songs and ballads of his many-times-removed cousin, to spread and preserve them in the current era.

“It’s been some time since I’ve visited Thavnair,” Iyna mused. “Tillie, would you—”

“On it,” her assistant replied, pulling up contact information and beginning arrangements.

Two hundred years. Azdaja no longer needed her brother’s Eye, her own aether replenished, though she still had plenty of regrowing to do to reach her full power again. It would be nice to visit the dragons, to speak of old times, of old friends, and reminisce about that wild era before seeing the fruits of their labor in the peace and prosperity of modern Thavnair.

Iyna would also have to make a visit to Ranaz, sharing her carefully kept copies of the old minstrel’s songs—most of them from Aeryn’s own extensive collection.

Both of her old friends would like that. That wandering minstrel had only ever wanted to share his stories with the world, and Aeryn’s own bardic nature, so oft at war with her tendency to demure her heroics, would appreciate the songs being passed to a new generation.

After all, Iyna’s own self-appointed task as keeper of her friends’ legacies meant keeping those tales and their truths circulating for as long as she was able. To keep their memories alive in not only her heart but the rest of the world’s.

She wasn’t out of the fight yet.

She also was not at all the singer that Dark or Aeryn had been, but hummed a few bars anyway as she left the kitchen to prepare for her next adventure.

“Tales of loss and fire and faith...”

[janedoeswriting]

The Way The Wind Blows (Stiles x OC) Chapter Five

Description: Rhiannon finds herself trapped within her guilty pleasure tv show— Teen Wolf. Now, she must choose which path to take… one that leads back home, and another that follows uncertain adventure.

Tags: extreme slow burn, frienemies to lovers, fix it fic, canon change, actions have consequences.

TW: angst, fluff, sexual harassment, anxiety, depression, obsession, domestic violence, manipulation, etc. Just please do not read if you are sensitive to difficult subjects.

(Sun Bleached Flies by Ethel Cain)

**TW: violence, murder, gore, kidnapping. Read at your own peril.

"Someone was hungry," Austin said.

Rhiannon tore into the waffles with no remorse, only stopping to drink the soda it came with. She just hummed at him in both confirmation and dismissal. He laughed, and leaned back in the booth. Austin, she learned his name, was a fan of waffle house. She'd also learned he was quite the perfect subject for her little hitch hiking plan.

He was kind, and genuine. He didn't pry or ask any questions Rhiannon didn't want to answer. He had business in Beacon Hills, but didn't like staying in one place for too long. Which was perfect for Rhiannon.

She had insisted they get as far out of town as they could before they stopped for food. They finally stopped off the highway two hours east of the city in a tiny country town with just a waffle house and a chevron gas station as far as the eye could see.

The drive was interesting. Rhiannon had actually enjoyed painting this new persona. Bad girl rule breaker. Runaway teen.

Where she was from, she had seldom even gotten detention before. Now, she was breaking the law. And it felt good.

Talking to Austin distracted her from the guilt she felt.

"Thank you," she said through her food. "I love Waffle House." She truly hadn't had a better meal in her life.

"So... How long do you think it'll take 'em to notice your gone? A day? Two?" he asked playfully.

From the drive she had learned he had also run away in his adolescence. A few times, actually. He had also spent some time in county jail for minor crimes, but she didn't want to hear about her sponsor's criminal past. It didn't exactly ease her apprehension.

"An hour." she said, sipping her coke. He scoffed and shook his head. "You're gonna be in deep shit if you're caught."

She looked at him. "You'll be in deeper shit if we're caught." And that was that. He inclined his head in surrender. "We're gonna have to stop somewhere in a few hours to sleep. I'm assuming you don't have any pajamas in your little bag." he said, inclining his head to her bag. "Why do we have to stop? We can sleep in shifts--," she started. "Absolutely not." he quickly said.

"Why not?" Rhi asked incredulously.

"Because, Jane-," he said, using the false name she'd given him. It had taken some getting used to, but it was better than him knowing who she really was. "You're a girl."

"So?" she asked in offense. "So I don't trust you." He said matter-of-factly. She sighed.

"Well if it means anything, I don't trust you either."

"I'm touched." Austin said, and that perpetual smirk lifted at the corner of his lips again. He was truly heartbreakingly handsome. "I'm not sleeping in the same room as you." She said strictly. "I wouldn't dream if it." Austin responded. "Good." and she returned to her food. As they paid the check Rhiannon couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the old box television in the corner of the restaurant. It was muted but the screen displayed the local news channel. On it the words read, 'Teenage girl missing from Beacon Hills' A sketch that looked eerily similar to her own flashed on the screen. She quickly looked away.

Rhiannon swallowed and kept her head down till they were back on the road. --

By that night, Rhiannon had come to the conclusion that she liked Austin. He was funny, and he played the music loud and sang along to it too. He listened to her ranting, and she listened to the sob story of his tragic past. Orphaned as a child. In and out of foster homes all his life. All of them were abusive in some sort of way, and he had the scars to prove it.

When Rhiannon asked, "Why are you doing this for me?", he said

"I'll be totally honest with you, Jane. You remind me of me. If I'd had someone to just get me out long enough, I think I would have been better off in life. I wouldn't have gotten into stealing, or drug dealing.... You could turn out alright, Jane. I can see it." "Oh, you can?" she asked playfully. "I can." he responded seriously. Jane paused, and they shared a smile. "Well, alright then. If Austin sees a future where I'm free then I know I'm all set."

He laughed. "What do you want to do in life, Jane?"

Rhiannon thought about it. "I want to paint."

"To paint?" he asked incredulously. She smacked his arm and he laughed hard. "Yes, to paint."

"Well.. Are you any good?" he asked. She rolled her eyes but gazed out at the fields. "Yes. I'm pretty good."

"Good. Cause one day when your a fancy shmancy artist in the city I'll come callin' asking for a portion of the proceeds."

Rhiannon scoffed. His laugh was infectious, and he was charming to boot. "How come you don't have a girlfriend?"

She asked the question without even thinking, and her cheeks reddened at her own brazeness. "Why, you interested?" he asked, and she shoved her hand in his face as he mocked kissing noises at her. "Haha, get in line princess. I'm hard to keep in one place."

"Oh, right. You seem so difficult to hold down." she said sarcastically. "You know- picking up strange girls up from the side of the road and all." she added. "Oh come on. That's the definition of 'difficult to hold down'!"

She shook her head at him but their laughter carried as the sun set in brilliant oranges and reds.

--

"You're kidding me." she said. The lady at the front desk of the motel six looked at her through sagging eyes. She took a drag from her cigarette without a word, and blew the smoke out right into their faces. "Only one bed, sweetheart."

Austin looked at her with a resigned cringe. She turned in exasperation, and left him to pay. She had only read about 'one-bed' tropes in romance novels. She didn't think it would be real. Much less in a middle-of-nowhere town somewhere in Nevada.

He came outside of the dingy office illuminated by yellow flickering fluorescent lights. "Bed bugs." was his explanation. "Only one of the rooms doesn't have 'em."

"Great." she said sarcastically. He took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. "You smoke?" she asked in surprised. He looked down at them and then at her, as if he were caught red-handed.

"Oh- sorry-," he started. She took the cigarette from his fingers before he could stamp it out and inhaled.

He gazed at her in surprise. Her sudden bout of coolness was shattered when she broke into a fit of coughs. He laughed that wonderful infectious laugh. "Was that your first time?" he asked. She nodded, coughing into her elbow. "It hurts." she squeeked out.

"It doesn't hurt after a while." he said, taking a long drag and letting it out slowly to the sky. "What do we do?" Rhi asked after her lungs finally stopped aching. "Well, I booked the room, so you can sleep in there and I'll crash in the car."

In a good romance novel, Rhiannon would have protested and they would have begrudgingly shared a bed. But this was real life, and he was a stranger she met half a day ago.

"Okay." she said, and took the key he outstretched to her.

"I'll be using the shower first, though." he said. She nodded in understanding. The room was even grimier than she could have imagined. It was a combination of yellow wallpaper, brown carpet, and horrible interior design. The water pressure in the shower was criminal.

Rhiannon laid on the bed and stared at the popcorn ceiling as she listened to him shower. She almost fell asleep right there, but then the bathroom door opened and she shot up to a seated position. He came out rubbing his hair in a towel. Rhiannon didn't know if she was disappointed or relieved that he was fully dressed.

As he passed by her, she could still smell the faint cigarette smoke on him.

He turned to her, and with a gentle reassuring smile he said, "Don't forget to lock the door behind me."

With that, he was gone. She got up and did so immediately.

It took a long time to fall asleep. As she tossed and turned in the scratchy sheets she longed for the scent of lavender and lasagna.

--

Stiles sat in his car staring at the steering wheel. Deep purple bags lined his eyes. His father had sent out a police force to comb the city. Stiles himself had driven around all night, with the help of his friends. He even enlisted the help of Scott and Derek's pack to use her scent and comb the town.

She was gone. She was gone. Rhiannon was gone, and it was his fault. The news had been spread through the town and neighboring ones. Missing girl. Kidnapped, is what the news said. FBI and CPS were all over his father-- blaming him for not protecting her. Stiles didn't protect her. He was supposed to keep her safe.

It was three in the morning when Stiles pulled into his driveway. He couldn't get out of the car. If he did, it meant it was over. She was gone and it was his fault. It was his fault.

Why did he let her get out of the car? Why didn't he stay with her? Stiles' father knocked on the window and Stiles jumped. He looked just as tired as Stiles felt. Stiles opened the door.

Mr. Stilinski didn't have to say it. Stiles knew what his dad was thinking. He didn't need to be yelled at or grounded to know. It was his fault. Tears brimmed at his eyes before he could stop them.

"I'm sorry, dad." He said, his voice cracking. He'd said it a million times that day, but this time he felt truly defeated. It felt real. "I'm-," but Stiles was silenced by his father's hug. He held Stiles tightly to him. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay."

But it wasn't. It wasn't okay. "I'm gonna find her. I'll get her back." Stiles said desperately.

"It's not your fault, Stiles." his dad said.

But it was. "I'm gonna find her." Stiles said. "It's not your fault."

And Stiles leaned into him. He let the sobs wracking his chest out into his father's shoulder. He gripped him tightly. "We'll get her back, Stiles. She's gonna be fine."

Stiles couldn't help but picture the dead bodies he'd seen in the morgue. Heather's lifeless, cold body. Bloated and pale and reeking of death. The throat slit, head bashed in, ligature marks at the neck.

"We'll find her, Stiles."

--

"Wake up!" Rhiannon yelled.

Austin jerked awake in fear and shock. Rhiannon laughed aloud at his reaction. Upon realizing it was her, he took a deep breath of relief. He opened the passenger door. "Don't do that!"

But he had caught onto her laughter, and couldn't help but gaze at her as she shook her head at him.

"You should have seen your face."

"You're evil." he said, running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his wits at the sudden awakening. "How early is it?" he asked. His voice was raspy and tired. Rhiannon tried not to let it distract her.

"Seven."

"Seven?! Are you crazy?"

She shrugged and cheekily tossed him the motel key. "Get ready. We've got a long day of driving."

A half an hour later, they were on the road again.

"What d'ya want for breakfast?" she asked, inspecting the contents of his glove compartment. "Oh, like your paying."

It was true-- she hadn't paid for anything at all. But she didn't exactly have any money and she hadn't offered.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm a girl." she said, throwing his own words from earlier back at him.

He shook his head with an easy smile. It felt like they had known each other for a lifetime. "McDonalds it is."

--

Rhiannon waited in the car patiently. When Austin came back he carried a bag of food in hand and gave it to her sternly. "Jane?" He said.

"Austin." She responded, already digging around for food.

"Do you even realize how much trouble your in?" he asked. Rhiannon's blood ran cold. Oh no.

He slapped a newspaper onto her lap. The front page read, 'Missing Teenager: Rhiannon Watson Presumed Kidnapped'. The police sketch of her face stared back at her. She cringed and looked up at him as he held the roof of the car and leaned forward against the open doorway. "Rhiannon?!" he exclaimed. She sighed and slammed the newspaper down. "You said you understood-," she started, but he cut her off.

"You said your name was Jane!"

"Okay, so I lied! What's the big deal? I didn't know you."

"Oh yeah? Find some other ride to Florida. I'm not a kidnapper." He said. She was already digging into the food. "Tell that to my foster father." she said, taking a bite of a McMuffin. "Your foster father is the Sheriff of Beacon Hills! Are you crazy?!" Rhiannon tilted her head to the side in consideration.

"Did you read the article? I mean-," she scoffed. "I could be."

"I'm taking you to a hospital." he said, getting in the truck and putting it in drive. "Yeah? Can't wait to tell them how you stole me off the side of the road."

He looked at her so severely she put her hands up in feigned innocence. "Listen-- Please just listen. I don't want to go back there. You told me you knew how it was. I- I can't go back. Just take me to Louisiana, drop me off, and none will be the wiser. You were never involved."

"Never involved?! Jane- ugh, Rhiannon. You lied to me."

"I didn't! I told you the truth. Except for my name, that was a lie, but everything else was the truth. You knew what you were getting into."

Austin hesitated. Rhiannon quickly followed up. "Don't act like you thought picking me up was some self-righteous act. You knew you were breaking the law. And if you take me to the hospital now, you're signing yourself up to wind back up in jail."

"You tricked me." "Austin, I didn't trick you. And I don't want to get you in trouble. I really don't."

They sat for a moment at the red light.

"Please. Don't take me back. It's gonna be alright." There was a long moment of silence as Austin contemplated. Finally, he said, "I'm dropping you off in Denver. From there on out, you're on your own."

Rhiannon sat back, relief flooding her body. "Denver it is."

--

It took a half a day for Austin to warm back up to Rhiannon. It was a long drive during which Rhiannon talked a lot. About who she was, and what had happened to her. Of course, she didn't tell him the whole truth, just the cover story. How she had no memories of her life, and was found in the middle of the road and then taken in by the Sheriff. She told him how lonely she felt. How the only thing she had to go off of was warm seas and palm trees (this, of course, was a lie). It worked anyhow.

Eventually, they were riding in pleasant conversation again. Whenever they stopped it was in small towns for very brief periods of time. She would wait in the car for him to bring her food, and would pee in gas stations that looked like they hadn't changed since they'd been built in the eighties.

Rhiannon asked him not to get any more newspapers. And deep down she appreciated the time they spent together. It was innocent, and nice. He was kind despite everything.

She felt like a vagabond with the world at her feet. And he was exactly what she needed to feel safe again.

At night he would stop in motels and get rooms while she waited in the car, and then she would slip in without a witness in sight. He never tried to overstep any boundaries and went out of his way to make sure she was comfortable.

And she was always comfortable. It was hard not to be with his southern manners. At night she would peek her head out of her motel room to find him standing outside, where he always had a room beside her's. He smoked cigarettes, and she would lean against the wall next to him inhaling the smoke and taking a few hits here and there.

"You always smell like cigarettes, you know." she commented.

"Do I?" he asked. She nodded and leaned back as she let some smoke fall out of her mouth.

"You do too, now." Austin said.

--

They'd been together for three days. Rhiannon was growing more and more weary of him. Not in a bad way.

In fact, in a horrible gut wrenchingly good way.

She was ever-aware of his fingertips brushing hers as they handed each other food, or changed the radio station. She sometimes laid her feet on his lap as he drove and let her head hang out the window. When they shared cigarettes, she tried not to think about the phantom touch of where is lips had been.

Austin never fought with her. He was too mature. Too light-hearted. He took her jokes in stride and returned them with vigor. He never pressed her or berated her behavior.

It was growing dark that third night. They had pulled into a small town. It was covered in churches-- one just about every corner. The houses were dim and small. The town was quiet, with not a soul around. Not even a motel.

"Where do we go?" Rhiannon asked sleepily, pulling her feet from his lap. He lifted his hand off her shin, where it had grown comfortable rubbing circles on her skin. They were becoming more and more accustomed to each others touch.

"I don't know. Everything is closed." He said, taking turn after turn down the winding roads. Rhiannon didn't even know what state they were in-- she'd lost track long ago.

The road they drove down turned into dirt, and the trees covered the path.

"I'll turn around up here." Austin said, his voice annoyed with his exhaustion and confusion at getting lost in this small town.

The road was longer than they thought. Eventually, it opened up to a single white church. It was very clearly abandoned, with the paint peeling and vines climbing up the walls. Austin slowed the truck to a stop as the headlights illuminated the building. Rhiannon looked at him, and he looked at her. "Wanna check it out?" he asked light heartedly. There was that playful fun he always seemed to adopt. She couldn't help her own smile. "We're gonna get serial killed out here." "Oh come on. This isn't a horror movie." he said, opening the door.

She sighed and followed him, taking her bag with her in case they did happen to stumble upon Leatherface. Of course, he didn't know about the knife in her bag, but he didn't need to know.

They walked forward together amongst the overgrowth. A stray stick caught on Rhiannon's foot, and she yelped as she stumbled forward. Austin caught her gracefully in his arms. She looked up at him and was struck again by his rugged handsomeness in the moonlight. "Are you scared?" he asked. She rolled her eyes, but as they continued forward she held his arm and walked close to him.

The door creaked open eerily as they stepped inside. The stain glass at the far end was broken open. Vines and branches of a tree stuck through. The place was rotting from the inside out, but for some reason it looked quite beautiful with the moonlight shining through.

They walked down the aisle together. She didn't need to hold his arm anymore, but she did anyway. She wanted to. She could feel his warmth. Her pulse quickened. "It's pretty." she commented, surprising herself. And it was pretty. Despite being an abandoned creepy church in the middle of nowhere, it looked quite holy in the moonlight.

They stopped at the altar. He looked down at her while she gazed up at the lush overgrowth. "It is," he said.

She looked up at him only to find he was staring at her. Her face ran red, and she could feel her stomach squirming in the oh-so heavy atmosphere that laid on them. She noticed his gaze on her lips, and she couldn't help but do the same. When she glanced back up to his eyes, she found he had caught her in the act.

When he leaned down and kissed her, Rhiannon froze. She didn't know why- she had kissed a boy before- but this was different. He paused and slightly withdrew just enough so that their lips were no longer touching. It was a moment of hesitation. Of confirmation, before Rhiannon answered his silent question. She ever so slightly leaned forward and kissed him back.

What had started gentle and tentative quickly turned ravenous. Rhiannon was almost taken aback by his eagerness for her. He quickly began to hold her body tightly against his, wrapping arms around her frame. He was bigger than she'd thought-- certainly not as skinny as Stiles was. The memory of Stiles flashing in her mind felt silly and she mentally banished it. But for some reason, she leaned in further and let him pull her body closer into his.

His hand was over her waist, brushing over her ass and stroking up her back all the way up to the base of her neck.

His animalistic moan stirred something within her, and in one fluid motion he lifted her up to straddle his torso. Her legs wrapped around him while Austin gripped her butt in his hands and roughly set her onto the crumbling stone altar. Her stomach did a somersault as his firmness pressed against her center. They were moving very quickly, and the desire and hunger was inconsolable.

At least, on his end. Something nagging in the bag of her mind led her to pull back slightly. He began to roughly bite and kiss her neck as she regretfully whispered the words. "Wait-... Not too fast." she said. Her voice was ragged from desire. It seemed to only satisfy him more. The sucking on her neck increased. Her hand pressed to his chest firmly. "Slow down." she said as her voice cleared.

And he did, kissing her softer and steadying his pace. She could hear his ragged breathing now. A groan in the back of his throat as his licking and sucking slowed at her request.

She couldn't help the devious smirk that tugged at her lips. She liked it. The control she had over him. His all-consuming desire for her.

He groaned again and leaned his head against her chest, his hands pulling from her waist and resting on the altar beside her hips. He gripped the stone and closed his eyes, pulling himself together.

"You smell so good." he said gruffly, taking a deep breath. She knew she probably didn't-- as she had been using motel bodywash and his deodorant for the past few days. But she took the compliment nonetheless.

One of his hands, which had been clutching the stone, moved back to her waist. She glanced down at it. Her heartbeat skipped. There was a crack there now in the stone where his hand had just been. In the shape of his grip. Maybe it had already been there. She glanced to the other side, where his other hand followed suit and lightly held her other hip. A similarly shaped mark was etched into the stone. As if he had supernatural strength. He lifted his head, and she pretended like she hadn't seen a thing. She smiled as sultrily as she could. This seemed to work, and he took her lips into his once more. She kissed him with her eyes open this time, not knowing what to do with her hands.

She pulled back once more before it went too far.

She used her foot to push him back and swiftly jumped off the altar. She gave him a cheeky smile at his confused put-out expression. She tried to stay as nonchalant as possible.

"I'm not that easy, Austin. Gonna have to take me on a few dates, first." She said this as she sauntered past him and reached down to sling her bag back over her shoulder which she had dropped in their fiery exchange. She turned back to him, and there was that gut-wrenching smile again. But now, Rhiannon thought that something looked off about it.

Maybe it was how that smile didn't quite meet his eyes. Or how they reflected the moonlight in a strange way.

Maybe she was being paranoid, but a nagging instinct tugged at her chest. She had to get out of there. She had to act like nothing was wrong and convince him to drive to a motel.

He tilted his head to the side, and the moonlight shone strangely around his dark figure. Those eyes-- they weren't just reflecting strangely. They were glowing. A milky, silvery white.

He wasn't a werewolf, like she had suspected just moments before. This was worse. So much worse. He was a wendigo. And all she remembered about wendigos was their intense craving for human flesh.

"You know what I am, don't you, Rhiannon? I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your lies."

She stepped back, her hand slowly sliding down her bag's handle. She spoke to try and distract him as she reached for her knife. He slowly walked toward her, taking each step down from the altar painfully slow. "You're a wendigo." she said. "Good girl! I knew there was something different about you. So smart. So... beautiful." At this last part, his milky eyes raved over her body. To her horror, that crooked white smile was overtaken by rows of thin long teeth.

"Please don't eat me." She said, not knowing what else to say. Her voice sounded strange. He was walking crookedly and tilted his head to the other side. It reminded her of a bird, inspecting a worm. He was rapidly closing the distance and she couldn't back away fast enough. "Oh," he laughed. It was a lovers laugh. A gentle, soft sound. A sound she remembered from the drive when she would belt out lyrics in the truck. A sound from moments earlier, when she finally closed the distance between them and kissed him back. "Oh, no, baby. I'm not gonna eat 'chu. How could I?" He said. That country accent which had been so endearing only twenty minutes ago was now horrifying. "Ya see-- I was gonna. I mean, why'd'ya think I even pick up hitchhikers? Such easy meat. And I've been o-so hungry. But then you talked. And you were sooo entertaining," he said. As he spoke, her hand wrapped around the handle of the blade. She stepped onto the threshold of the church as she walked backward. There were no street lamps or town lights anywhere around. Only the moon shining down from above as he closed in on his prey. "You smell-," he deeply inhaled and briefly paused with his eyes closed before opening them again. "So much better than any human I've met before. But then I got to thinkin'-- what a waste! What a horrible waste it would be to get rid of someone so beautiful. So young, so perfect." he had finally reached her. He was talking slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. She was stumbling over sticks and had reached the thick tall grass.

He grazed a finger down her cheek. His hand was shaking like an addict in withdrawal. "It took so much self control. So, so much patience. But I can't stand it anymore. I have to make you mine." "Yours?" she said, voice shaky. Her heart was pounding. Her mind reeled as adrenaline pumped through her body.

"All it takes is for you to feed. A bit of human flesh and then you'll be like me. And we can be together, like this-- always."

She was struck with a horror she couldn't even process. He didn't want to eat her. He was going to turn her into a wendigo.

She stepped back to try and make a break for it, but he lunged forward too fast to even process and grabbed her wrist and yanked her up. Her full body weight pulled against him, but it didn't matter-- his supernatural strength was too much to even remotely hold her own against.

The knife gleamed in the moonlight as he held her arm up. He glanced at it and laughed as she tugged against him so hard she thought her arm might rip out of it's socket.

"So smart." He said as he gripped her face roughly with his free hand.

His grip tightened so painfully Rhiannon bit out a scream and dropped the knife. He leaned in to kiss her, bite her-- Rhiannon didn't know what. He froze inches from her mouth. With her other hand, she had caught the knife before it fell to the ground and plunged it into his abdomen.

She'd only ever seen it in movies. Where other's had taught characters on the screen where to stab in order to kill a man. She dug the blade up firmly into his ribs and twisted. She couldn't believe it worked.

For a moment, she heard him grunt. Finally, the grip on his wrist loosened and he fell to the ground. Her grip on the knife was too strong, and it ripped out of his body as he fell to the ground. Her vision was red. Before she could think, she lunged down and stabbed him in the eye-- where the flesh was soft and easier to break through. He screamed and she took the knife out again before he could throw her off of him.

All she could think was his supernatural strength. If she hesitated even for a moment, he would throw her off of him and she would be dead. So she thrust the knife once more into his neck from the side. It stuck out the other end-- straight through his throat.

His blood was warm as it sprayed her from his gaping eyesocket and throat. She attempted to rip the knife forward, but it was too difficult. She had to press her foot on his chest and use both hands before she managed to rip it out straight through his throat and out the front of his neck. The blood sprayed again-- over her face and hands and body. The force of ripping out his throat caused her to fall back onto her back and she scrambled up once more.

She didn't realize just how bloody murder was. Didn't realize how slowly it took. He was gurgling, and there was a sick deep rattle coming from the back of his throat. That milky eye faded back to human. His glimmering bloody teeth retracted. He couldn't speak or scream. He began to shake uncontrollably- possibly seizing.

He continued to make those disgusting choking noises and bile rose in Rhiannon's throat. The blood continued to spray. She didn't want to, but she nonetheless plunged the knife into him again. She didn't know where the heart was, but hoped she would hit it. It was hard to get through his chest. Harder than when she stabbed the fleshy parts of his side or eye. She stood up and stomped on the hilt with all her might. It dug so far through him that the hilt disappeared within him and went straight through to pin him into the dirt.

She leaned to the side and projectile vomited next to his head. Once. Twice. Three times, before nothing came up anymore.

He stopped struggling finally. He was still alive, but his life was quickly fading. She looked him in his one good eye, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and smearing the blood in the process.

"Thanks for the ride." she grimly said. The strength of her monotone voice surprised even her. Something within her had turned off in those ten minutes. It felt like an eternity, but he finally died. She saw the life leave his eyes. Saw him stop breathing. She didn't leave until she tentatively reached down and felt for his pulse. When there was none, she stood back up and stared at him.

It felt so strangely distant. Like she had left her body and it was no longer her anymore. She vaguely thought that if she hadn't caught him by surprise, she would be dead now. Better you than me, she thought grimly.

She didn't know how long she watched him. She stood perfectly still. A night breeze cooled her face and ran through her hair. Frogs sang. Fireflies blinked in the air. It smelled strongly like copper and grass.

She reached down and tugged his wallet and keys out of his pocket.

When Rhiannon finally marched out of the tall grass and back to the path to the truck, his blood that stained her body had grown cold. It was slowly starting to dry.

She glanced back. In the moonlight she looked to where she had left his body-- knife still buried in his chest and pinning him to the earth. She couldn't see him at all hidden in the grass. If she didn't know any better, she would never guessed that Austin's corpse was laying in that overgrown field, becoming stiff and cold with each passing minute.

She drove out of the town, with his blood drying in her hair and on her hands and face and clothes. Her muscles were stiff. Coming down from the adrenaline made her shaky.

She pulled a cigarette off the dash and lit it. The smoke blew out the open window as she passed the sign that read 'Leaving Colorful Colorado'.

==

Notes: Wow, so that was heavy. The part of Stiles and his dad was inspired by Good Will Hunting. The aesthetic and overall vibe was giving Ethel Cain, so that song was pretty fitting. I really like those scenes in movies where its the last girl standing-- like the ending of the movie Hide and Seek. Cheesy, but this is a fanfiction so what do you expect? Who would have thought our little Rhiannon would become a murderer in only chapter five? Her story certainly isn't as squeeky clean as Scott's. I hope you all liked it. Let me know what you think.

PART SIX

[the-masked-ram]

Never Late, Never On Time- Togame x GN!Reader drabble

A/N: this is the sfw festival drabble for @ficsforgaza sponsored by @sophiawhite0066 thanks so much for the sponsor and sorry for the slow post!

@interstellar-inn

Reminder I still have a lot of fics for gaza to available, tons of drabbles multichaps, and a couple drabble series. If you are interested in seeing a specific fandom I write for let me know and I might add a drabble to donation pile (this is not a request invitation)

CW: sfw, literally this is rare pure fluff from me(not even a kiss)

---

The warmth of the night was unusual for fall, the humidity not necessarily as uncommon. However, neither was necessarily unwelcome. It was easy to slip into the festival mood with the heat and the sparkling lanterns and lights strung through the stalls. The smell of sweetened soy sauce for dango mixed wonderfully with the salt of the more savory offerings like meat skewers and dried squid. It was hard not to let your senses pull you into the wonderland waiting just in front of you.

But you forced yourself to hang back, forced yourself to wait. You balanced carefully on the geta you were not used to, and for a moment you were jealous of Togame who would be used to this atmosphere and the clothing that came with it. Jo, the man you were meeting here, and just the thought had your fingers tightening in the light silk of your yukata. You were honestly glad you had forgone the under-robes you would normally wear for fall because tonight was too hot, and you were too nervous. You’d have sweated through the layers within moments.

You frowned as you checked the time and realized Togame was making you wait again. He was only five minutes late, but it was just so him. He would show up with one minute to spare before it rolled into fifteen minutes, spouting some bullshit about how he couldn’t be truly late until that minute hand ticked into the fifteen zone. You rolled your eyes even as you smirked, because though this was your first date together, nothing had truly changed.

You were looking at some masks when you felt the presence at your back, when a hand that had begun to grow familiar with the subtle brushes you'd been experiencing the last few weeks, settled into yours. His fingers tangled with yours, and you took a steadying breath as your lungs seized and heart thrashed.

“Hello, Jo,” you whispered.

“Hey, darling,” he responded, the smirk audible in his lazy voice. “Wait long?”

His words were barely a sentence, all slurred in his usual way that showed he had hardly any energy for anything that wasn’t fighting. Yet here he was, looking at you with those sleepy and adoring eyes as he slowly blinked life back into them. He’d found time in his napping schedule to spend on you yet again. Like always.

The thought did anything but calm your rebellious chest. Instead, everything inside it seemed to shudder as you looked at him back and felt a swooping pleasure take over your gut.

“Think it was ten minutes this time,” you said with a pout that was fighting to unfurl into a grin.

“Not late,” he responded as if he knew the thoughts you were entertaining just moments before.

That smile you’d been holding back finally took hold, turning your puffy lower lip smoother as your mouth curled. He returned the expression, though his was relaxed and half-assed that look in his eyes, however, was anything but. The one that both pinned you down and raised you higher. You breathed, taking in his scent of amber musk and the sugary bubbles of Ramune that always seemed to cling to him.

“If that’s what you say,” you answered with a laugh.

Those calloused fingers that you had grown to recognize grew tighter as he drew you closer. This was a first date, but so many things were unknown were Togame. Would he rush this? Would you be the reason he quickened his pace? You looked at him with wide and affectionate eyes and his gaze flickered down to your smiling lips.

No, he wouldn’t, but not because of his relaxed nature. There was plenty of heated desire festering beneath the surface of his green eyes. He wouldn’t hurry it along because he wanted the ache growing so sweetly in his chest to bloom until he couldn’t stand it. He wanted to own everything about you and, if that meant stringing those things he wanted to do for you, to do to you, out just a bit longer then he would. He was used to taking it slow and though everything in him screamed to take your soft waist in his wide grip and kiss you senseless now, he would make you need him with your heart and mind long before he claimed your body. Since you’d already stolen all of him.

“C’mon, I saw some dango over there,” he tilted his chin toward a stall.

“Shouldn’t we have something more like dinner,” you chided but followed him with a laugh that lit up your entire face.

It was a laugh that would rival the fireworks the two of you watched later on in the night, chomping away at taiyaki as you sat on the edge of the river and pointed out your favorites. Even though your hand was busy the one clasped in his never left it the entirety of the night. Neither of you spoke about why, neither of you told each other that you were desperate for every scrap of a second to last a little longer in each other’s company. And for once, as Togame stood on your doorstep with his hands finally deep in his old Shishitoren jacket, he wished he hadn’t been ten minutes late. Those ten minutes now felt like an eternity. Maybe you could break his habit of never being on time. You and your firework eyes.

[givemeonereason]

Meditations: First Meeting

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Rating: cotton candy

Dragon Ball Masterlist Givemeonereason Masterlist

Plot: Can a green alien teach you to meditate? Or better yet, shut your mouth?

A/n: okay, okay, okay OKAY! Hear me out…I don’t see a lot of love for this green guy. I actually adore him as a character. He really grew on me while watching DB. I think he needs a little love and appreciation.

I think it has to do with the fact he doesn’t look like a regular human, and honestly I get it. But he could get it. And he should.

I will keep writing for him because Piccolo has such great fic potential that no one is utilizing.

Your lesson: we can’t judge books by their cover. It could just be the best book you’ve ever read ;) and that particular book might just be tall, handsome and green. You never know.

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Meditation.

This wasn’t something that you were particularly skilled at.

You tried a few times to do a guided meditation with that popular app that was complimentary thanks to your company on your lunch breaks. After several attempts you just gave up. The cricket sounds were relaxing though.

Such poise.

He sat on the hillside every day crosslegged, eyes closed, faced out towards the valley.

What exactly he was thinking about you could not have guessed.

Even if someone paid you one million Zeni to guess, you still wouldn’t have got it right.

He just seems so peaceful, his cape flowing in the light breeze.

Probably one of those basement rats who work on software towers. You thought to yourself. Makes sense he would try and catch some sun during his break.

“Umm, excuse me?”

Your hands nervously fiddled with the hem of your shirt. You’ve heard the rumors about the people downstairs, however you were curious. And walking up the hill to speak to him had your nerves all over the place.

“Hmm?” It was if he broke out of trance.

The man looked over his shoulder in your direction, putting his feet back down upon the grass when he saw you standing several feet away.

It was easier now to take in his full form. He was large and green. Such an odd appearance, you think. Nothing like anything you’ve seen before.

No sunlight…

It was a lot to take in at once. Your eyes glanced over him. You didn’t imagine he’d be this tall. He practically towered over you.

He blinked a few times before you spoke up. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I was just…” You voice trailed off as well as your courage. You turned on a heel to walk down the hillside you treaded up.

“Is there something you need?” His strong voice stopped you in your tracks. Of course, a voice that strong, and that deep would come from someone like him. It should almost be expected due to his size. But the tone alone was comforting to an extent. It didn’t enact fear in you.

You turn back around to look at him once more. Trying to find something to actually say that has real meaning. “I, uhh, see you from my window most days and I just wanted to know what you’re looking at?”

He looked down into the valley below. The blue of the nearby lake shined under the hot sun. Trees blowing in the humid summer breeze. “I wasn’t looking at anything.”

“No?” it seems your courage finds its metal and you walk up beside him, looking down into the same valley. “This is a very beautiful view, though. I would’ve never come up here, save for my curiosity.”

You backed away from the edge, remembering that you have a fear of heights. “Again, I’m very sorry that I bothered you. I just…”

There you go again.

He takes a seat on the ground near where he was before, crossing his arms against his chest. “I was only meditating. You are welcome to join me if you wish.”

Unmoving from where you stood and just above a whisper, “I don’t think I know how. I tried with the company sponsored app and it’s just too much.”

You heard him take a breath in. It was long and deep, and filled his chest.

“I’m not exactly sure what you’re talking about. However, take a seat here.” He pointed to a patch of grass near him. You obliged sitting down on the spot he designated.

His eyes were closed, his head tilted down towards the ground, relaxing.

“It’s your decision now if you wish to think or not.”

You looked over at him, his form unchanged. “Think of what?”

“That is what you must choose.”

“Do you work for my company? I don’t think I’ve seen you in the building before. I only see you on this hill.”

“I do not work for anyone.”

Your hands relax in your lap. “Oh, so you’re a freelancer then. You might make some good money, but no benefits is shit.”

“You are making little sense now. Clear you mind. Or keep your thoughts to yourself.”

You sat quietly for sever moments. You were watching him, taking in the strange details of his silhouette.

But you broke the silence again.

“Are you Yoda?”

“I’m Piccolo.”

“Is that your ‘Yoda’ name? Your like Yoda, but your name is Piccolo….Piccolo like the instrument.”

He took another breath this time it resembled more of a deep grown. His brow is furrowed with confusion and almost frustration at this point. His hand are gesticulating when he raises his voice. “I do not understand what you’re saying.”

What should have frightened you made you smile cheerfully. There is nothing you love more than to talk about one of your favorite things, Star Wars.

“Okay, so there’s this movie called Star Wars and there is a character in that movie called Yoda. Yoda is a small green character and he has pointy ears.” You looked over at him pointing, “Oh, yeah, kind of exactly like your ears.”

You look back out at the scenery, shoulders, relaxing, and the tone of your voice, so joyful. “And he talks so formal and it’s almost as if he speaks in riddles. You kind of remind me of him, though you’re not small like Yoda.”

Again, you look to him. But his eyes are open and he’s staring into the air blinking blankly. You went silent, then. Fear of irritating him once more. Your eyes darting between him and your fingers in your lap. “I’m sorry…I…listen, I have never met anyone like you. I can only compare you to what I think I know. However, I know that’s only fiction. I don’t mean to be rude or a burden.”

He’s floating several inches off the ground, his eyes closed.

You turn sitting on your calves now. “Piccolo, what are you exactly?”

“A Yoda,” he said very serious, his tone almost booming.

Your obvious confusion broke him as he began to chuckle.

“I am an Namekian.”

“A Na-mek-ian,” you said repeating the title, annunciating the syllables. “So you’re an alien.”

“Yes.”

“Yes? Well, I guess I kind of figured you are green and everything.”

That made him turn to look at you. But you looked right back at him matter-of-factly.

“It is kind of odd, you know, the whole green skin. What are these rigid parts on your arms?”

That confused look painted his face again. “My skin?”

“Yeah, these parts.” You touched the and quickly retracting your hand. It was soft like your own skin. For some reason you imagined it’d be sticky or at least moist. “I did not expect it to feel like that.” You squinted your eyes looking at his arm again. “It’s like you have a worm in there.”

“A worm?” It sounded like a question, yes, but it was really just a confused statement at best.

“It’s like the ridges that a worm has….”

He’s not even listening, his thumb and forefinger pressed again the bridge of his nose.

Shit.

I’m talking to much again.

“I’m sorry…”

You waited for his harsh tone to sting your ears again.

But it only came out in a calm, collected way.

“Perhaps, that is enough for today.” He put his feet on the ground. He faced away from you. “Farewell miss.”

That’s when he blasted off from the hillside into the air.

Only Superman can do that. Maybe only Clark and Namekians?

You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking.

Gosh, if Yoda could have done that then the entire plot of films would be different.

What if Yoda could fly, and we just didn’t know it.

Shut up!

You just spoke with a green alien, named Piccolo, who can fly.

A green alien.

Named Piccolo….like the instrument.

Who. Can. Fly.

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