#hey have you read the fic where she comes back as a ghost to haunt merlin into protecting her son

[adhd-merlin]

changing my "ygraine pendragon" tag to "ygraine de bois" because she wouldn't want to be remembered by her shitty husband's name

[separatist-apologist]

Hey MB<3 I just keep rereading your fics over and over and they hit everytime (like seriously they itch every scratch in my brain), but just wondering, do u have any elucien fics on your tbr rn, or recent ones that you recommend? I'm mostly looking for canon compliant bc that is crack to me but im not too picky, just looking for recs!

I ANSWERED THE WRONG ASK god kill me right now

You're so sweet. Sorry it took me so long to write this- I wanted to put together a good mix. I hope you like them- these are just one's I've read, there are more on @elucienweekofficials list of multi-chapter fics set in canon, too!

This is long so I put it beneath a cut. I tried to mix on-going fics with completed fics and not recommend the same ones I always do. If anyone finds this list helpful, be better than me and leave a review

I Believe The Word You're Looking For Is Friends by @kingofsummer93

Elain Archeron and Lucien Vanserra are haunted by ghosts of their past, unable to move forward, unsure where they belong.

Together they come to an agreement. He'll teach her everything he knows about Prythian. He'll take her anywhere she wants to go.

In return, maybe she can just stop slapping him so much.

All You Have Is Your Fire by @clockwork-ashes

'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Elain goes to the Autumn Court demanding an audience with the High Lord to save the mate she can barely stand to be in the same room with. She ends up having to stay much longer than she bargained for.

What If I Told You I'm Back by climbingmountains

Come one, come all, it's happening again…Elain and Azriel have been married for ten years. Koschei is defeated, their family is at peace. And if she feels a hollow ache of something every once in a while, that’s just the price one pays for love and duty.

Until she comes home one day to the news that her husband has a mating bond of his own.

OR: I listened to nothing but The Tortured Poets Department for over a month and had a lot of angst to release.

Mockingbird by @avabrynne

After Lucien reluctantly agrees to meet with Eris, he’s shocked when his brother reveals his biggest secret: he has eight-year-old twin daughters. Unwilling to entrust them to anyone else and with Beron's gaze on him more intense than ever, Eris has Lucien swear to protect the girls and take them with him.

When it becomes clear they can’t stay in the human lands even when glamoured to look human, Lucien turns to the Night Court. While it’s easier to handle outbursts of young magic there, Lucien needs help. Enter Elain, who bonded quickly with the twins after their arrival. On top of everything else, Lucien and Elain start to navigate their bond while also finding out a few more secrets, like who Lucien’s actual father is. It's an Autumn and Day Court family drama Elucien and ErisxOC fic!

ACOWAR (Eluciens edition) by @crazy-ache

One moment. All it takes is one singular moment to change the trajectory of fate. Following the events of Hybern, everything changes when Lucien instinctively grabs his mate—Elain Archeron—and brings her back to the Spring Court with Feyre and Tamlin.

In the midst of war and ruin, Elain and Lucien will have to face the bond that connects them together if they hope to survive the unintended consequences. To do so, they’ll have to prevail through games of deceit, powerful forces of magic, and deadly enemies. And hope their hearts survive the journey.

A retelling of A Court of Wings and Ruin (ACOWAR) and a Canon Divergent AU.

A Court of Ash and Sunlight by aturner1205

“I know you’d rather not get help from me. I know you’ve rejected our mating bond and I’ve accepted that. But I still want to make sure you’re safe.”

Her heart twisted in its cage, filling her whole body with icy tears that would not spill.

Tell him. He deserves to know the truth. Tell him.

And because this time the voice inside was hers, because it was strong and clear and right, she did.

“I haven’t rejected the mating bond with you, Lucien,” she said quietly, her chest pounding so loud she could hardly hear the words. “But I think I damaged it, because—because I’ve never felt it.”

The Scenic Route by @bonecarversbestie

Elain grows discontent with her role in the Night Court as she grapples with grief for her human life and powers that she does not fully understand. One evening she accidentally winnows to Lucien's doorstep and he agrees to take her back to Velaris via the scenic route.

Can I Be Close To You by @temperedink

Elain and Lucien have been feeling out their tentative new relationship for a while, and Elain is getting antsy about the slow pace she's set for them. But maybe it's time to take things to the next level.

Set a few years post-ACOSF.

Oceans Apart (Never) by angryramen

Living in the Day-Court with her mate seemed like a damning at first. But slowly Elain started to enjoy Lucien’s company. They conversed together in the Day-Court gardens and slowly became friends. He even promised to charter a ship to take her to the continent, somewhere she’d always wanted to go. But when the time comes to say goodbye…

The Heirs of Fall and Flame by arosebetweenthorns

Eris Vanserra has always been a complicated male. Born as the first son to a tyrant of a High Lord, he was raised on cruelty, learning never to reveal weaknesses. But as Eris' allegiances to his father's court are questioned, his loyalties forming with those across borders, he realises enemies in his own court - especially his father - may be too difficult for him to keep at bay, especially when he inadvertently sets his father's sights onto his youngest brother. Then there's Rhysand's Inner Circle to contend with - one particular shadowsinger that Eris can't seem to avoid... but does he even want to? --- Lucien Vanserra always thought his suffering at the Autumn Court's hands was behind him. But when his father shows a vested interest in him years after banishing him, it's clear he will have to fight to keep the fragile peace he's built himself. All Lucien wants is to be with Elain and begin a life of his own, but when Elain's life is threatened by his father, Lucien learns just how much he has to learn before life can truly begin.

This is a direct continuation of the events of ACOSF. Joint POV of Eris and Lucien.

A Court of Breaking by @aldbooks

A year after the events of A Breaking, Elain feels a tug on the bond and realizes her estranged mate is in danger. Lucien, now returned to the Night Court, wonders if he might have been too hasty in his decision to leave, and if there might still be a chance for him with his mate

Summer Heat by @zenkindoflove

Lucien nodded his head, looking for any cue that he was dismissed. “Got it. Keep everyone in line and try not to make an ass of myself in front of my mate. I’ll see what I can do.”

Summer Court is hosting the Summer Solstice Summit and the Night Court is sending their best emissaries to attend. It will be Elain's first time mingling in another court, and it's a good thing she has an expert guiding her: the mate she's been ignoring for the last two years.

Meanwhile, Eris has been sent to the summit to spy on Summer's developments. What he doesn't anticipate is entangling in a steamy, forbidden romance.

Post-ACOSF, Elucien, Eris x OC, Multi-chapter.

Healer In The Night by @infinitefolklore

Lucien has been away on the continent on a mission. No one has heard from him in over two months. Elain is worried. On a dark and stromy night, he shows up bloody on her doorstep. Elain nurses him back to health.

The Luck Of The Draw by @sad-scarred-sassy

Elain Archeron is determined to end her unwanted mating bond with Lucien Vanserra. She has resigned herself to a loveless life, convinced she will never be able to experience true love without the fabricated weight of an assigned mate.

Her plans take a sharp turn when her mate arrives with a proposition to accompany him on a mission to a foreign court. When no one else believes her capable of succeeding Elain decides to prove to herself and others that she is not as hopeless as everyone else thought.

Only this will mean she will have to face him, and with that all that she has sworn off, battling between not knowing where the mating bond's influence ends and where her true feelings begin.

[cecilysass]

Shine On (15/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 15: Walled Garden

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 25, 2015 Ten minutes later

Jackson and Rose burst back into the kitchen, both pink-cheeked and sweaty, and promptly start chugging glasses of water. Mulder’s back at work with the crowbar, and Scully decides to make herself useful and start sweeping up some of the wood chips on the floor.

“We ran five miles,” Jackson announces to them.

“Pretty far,” comments Mulder.

“I don’t think I’ve ever run five miles before. It’s a personal record.”

“That’s amazing,” Scully replies back encouragingly. She can’t help but watch Rose out of the corner of her eye. She’s holding the cool glass of water to her cheek, watching the rest of them.

“We went a different route than yesterday. There’s this really pretty stream near here with a path, and we followed the path for a while.”

Mulder and Scully both nod knowingly. “Yeah, that’s a good run,” Mulder says. “I’ve done it many times.”

“We saw the ruins of an old mill from the 1800s,” Jackson says, walking over to Mulder and Scully with his glass of water. “I made Rose stop and read the historical marker. Didn’t I?”

“Yep,” Rose answers him, a small, subdued smile.

“Almost nothing in Wyoming was built in the 1800s,” Jackson says. “Things in Virgina are old.” Some kind of lightbulb goes on in his mind. “Wasn’t George Washington from Virginia? Can we go see where he lived?” He stops abruptly and looks down. “Does this house have, uh, termites or something?” He’s staring at the pile of wood chips at Scully’s feet.

“Just some mold,” Mulder says. “Don’t worry. We’re getting rid of it.”

Jackson looks at the pile analytically. “Mold can get in anywhere. I read an article.”

“What are your plans today, Rose?” Scully asks, changing the subject.

“Well,” Rose licks her lips, rotating the glass in her hand. “I need to go home at some point, back to Maryland. I have a few things I need to take care of.”

Jackson is bending his leg in a hamstring stretch, wobbling a little for balance. “But you’ll come back, right?”

Scully and Mulder’s eyes both dart over to Rose, interested in her answer, too.

“Yes.” Rose peers back at Jackson through the glass, her image refracted. “Of course I will. When I can.”

Jackson seems to remember something and drops his stretch suddenly. “Oh hey, Mulder.” He swivels to face Mulder, suddenly all energy again. “Rose said that Clifton, Virginia isn’t very far from here.”

Mulder looks at him curiously. “No. It’s about ten minutes. Why?”

“That’s where the Bunny Man Bridge is. Where the ghost of the Bunny Man haunts people every Halloween? I read about it in that book you have about the ghosts of Virginia.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says, an irresistible smile. “That’s right—it is. The bridge is over Colchester Road.”

“Is the Bunny Man real? Have you seen him?”

“I haven’t actually gone over to check it out,” Mulder says. “I’ve been out of the monster business.” He throws Scully a begrudging look. “And to be honest, that story seems sort of along the lines of an … urban legend.”

Scully raises her eyebrows with cool significance, but Mulder avoids her gaze.

“Can we go see the bridge?” Jackson asks, leaning into another stretch. “Before I go home?” He stops, furrows his brow. “I mean—not home. Wherever I’m going next.”

“Sure, we can drive by,” Mulder says, upbeat, putting his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “What else is in that book? I wonder how many of those ghosts Scully and I investigated before.”

“It’s upstairs in my room,” Jackson says.

“Let’s go get it,” Mulder suggests. And Scully suspects he adds something else privately to Jackson in his mind, too, because Jackson immediately glances between her and Rose.

“Yeah,” Jackson agrees.

That’s quite the dynamic, Scully thinks wistfully, watching as they bound up the stairs after one another. Identical gaits, she notes. Consciousness entangled. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to separate out her envy from her joy.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Rose says in a voice so quiet Scully could almost miss it.

Scully leans her broom against the door. She’s still unsettled by having thoughts so transparent, but she wants to take it more in stride. This is what having telepath children must be like. She lifts her chin, armor up, and turns to take in the young woman across the room.

“Are you envious, Rose?” she asks casually. “Of Jackson?”

Rose lifts a shoulder. “Maybe a little.” Her eyes begin to roam around the room. “He’s lost his parents, same as I did, but he’s found this, too.” She gestures around her with her hand. “I knew a long time ago I wasn’t going to have anything like this.”

Scully feels herself frown. She doesn’t understand this kind of statement, and it hurts her in ways she can’t even pinpoint. “Rose,” she asks, “do you mind if I ask you questions about your past?”

The young woman had been leaning against Mulder’s desk, but she stands up instantly, like she’s prepared. “No, of course not.”

“Good, because I’ve been wondering…” Scully takes some uncertain steps towards her. “You knew where we were for years.” She hesitates. “But …you never contacted me.”

Rose doesn’t bat an eyelash. Strong and straight. “No, I didn’t.”

Scully blinks in confusion. She can’t really help it; her whole world is bifurcated when she looks at Rose. In one jagged half: this young woman, standing impassive like a warrior—reminding her of her father the sea captain, reminding her of herself. In the other: the memory of a tiny child, crouched over playing, bangs and shy eyes, reminding her of Melissa, reminding her of innocent lives lost.

Somehow she has to hold this together, make these two broken pieces make sense.

“Why didn’t you?” Scully says, and her voice wobbles. “Were you… angry with me?”

Rose’s stoic expression flickers a little. “No,” she says. “Why would I be angry? I liked you. I knew that… if I let you know I was alive, you’d want to see me.”

“Then why?” Scully’s vision is blurring a little, but she blinks the tears back determinedly. She doesn’t want to cry right now. She wants to think logically enough to understand.

Rose walks across the room to Mulder’s small dining room table and sits down with her glass of water. She bends her knees to sit in the chair with her legs criss crossed. This makes her seem younger, like the very young woman she is. Like someone who should be going on spring break trips and taking Physics 201, Scully thinks. Like someone who should be putting her hair up in messy buns and pulling all nighters and getting drunk with friends.

All of that seems to have nothing to do with this strange, remote girl.

Scully trails like a ghost and sinks down in the chair across from her, staring wordlessly, waiting.

“You know already that I’m not the same as Jackson,” Rose explains kindly, her eyes wide and serious. “He’s all yours. Genetically he’s entirely derived from you and Mulder. In a relatively normal, human way.”

“So you couldn’t come live with me … because Mulder isn’t your biological father?”

“No, no,” Rose says, shaking her head firmly. “I couldn’t live with you because no one is my biological father.”

Scully sucks in a breath slowly.

“You saw—the cyst on my neck, right? The toxic blood? When I was little?”

Scully nods without speaking.

“I’m dangerous to humans, Dana,” Rose says. Her gaze does not waver, her eyes like a calm sea. “It’s just the truth. Not just the blood. Other things, too.”

“You wouldn’t have been dangerous to me,” Scully says in a fierce voice before she can stop herself. “I could have taken care of you. I would have known what to do.”

“How could you have known?” Rose smiles sadly. “No one knows everything about what we are. We’re something new. Not entirely human, not entirely inhuman. We’re still discovering things about ourselves.” Her smile fades. “And truthfully, it’s not only that we’re dangerous to humans—it’s also that they can sometimes be dangerous to us.”

“I would have protected you. Mulder and I would have protected you. I was prepared for that.”

“You would have tried. I know you would have,” Rose concedes, looking down. She takes a drink of her glass of water. Her eyes spring back onto Scully. “But how long would it have been before you ended up like the Sims? Like the Van De Kamps? When they explained that to me, that risk… I couldn’t see it happen.”

“Who explained that to you?” Scully asks, suddenly on alert. “How old were you?”

Rose looks away evasively. “The group I’m with, the Walled Garden, that’s the whole point of what we do—we’re all products of the hybrid program. We’re the same. We protect one another. We take care of one another. It’s how it should be.”

“The Walled Garden,” repeats Scully.

“Yes.”

“The group that was trying to kill Jackson. The group that actually did murder his parents.” Scully emphasizes each word carefully, hoping it will penetrate. “Take care of one another? Protect each other? How can you trust people who would do that?”

“I don’t trust all of them,” Rose replies defensively, lifting her chin. “There are dangerous elements within the organization. There always have been. We’ve had to be so secretive, and sometimes, in the name of keeping secrets, some of us have done … too much. Gone too far. Like with Jackson.”

Scully realizes her own hands are trembling. Everything inside of her is crying out to tell Rose: this is what evil organizations always say, this is how they always begin. Keeping secrets justifies all manner of unjustifiable acts.

“They’re my family,” Rose says in a different, more vulnerable voice. She looks at Scully like she wants something. “The only people who are really like me on the planet.”

“That’s not true. There’s Jackson.”

Rose smiles weakly. “Yeah. You’re right. Apparently there’s Jackson.” She taps her dark red fingernails lightly on the table. “Which is… interesting.”

Scully says nothing, concentrating on blinking rapidly, holding back the tears again.

“Really, despite its flaws, the organization has so much good in it. We have the best interests of humanity at heart,” Rose says. “We really do. We’ve saved humanity before. It’s our ultimate goal.”

That’s what the Syndicate said, too, Scully thinks bitterly. That’s exactly what they said. But Rose’s eyes are round and earnest, and Scully sees she won’t be able to make a convincing case against the Walled Garden. Not right now. Not without evidence.

She can deploy persuasive arguments against ideas, but not against family. You can’t use logic when it comes to family.

“But that’s exactly it,” Rose argues abruptly, placing her palms flat on the surface of the table. “You can use logic when it comes to family. You have to use your head sometimes to protect your family, even when it isn’t what your heart might want.” She leans forward, speaking intently. “You know that, Dana. You, of all people, know that.”

Scully feels her lip trembling. This isn’t a lesson she would ever, ever want to impart.

“Understand that I wanted to see you,” Rose says urgently. “When I was little especially. Little kids want to have moms. But I … had to protect you. Just like you had to protect Jackson. Don’t you see that?”

There is a moment of silence, except for the clock ticking in Mulder’s kitchen. Scully shifts uneasily in her chair.

What can you say to that? Scully thinks. What can you say to mistakes made out of love, even mistakes that leave such scars?

She reaches out across the table and firmly takes Rose’s hands in her own.

“Do they listen to you?” Scully asks purposefully. “The leadership of the Walled Garden? Do you have their respect and trust?”

Rose hesitates before answering. “For the most part … usually. Yes.”

Scully’s eyes narrow. She takes in the line of Rose’s determined chin, the tiny crease between her eyebrows. Scully exhales heavily. “Okay,” she says. “Okay. I understand.”

Rose’s shoulders immediately fall in relief. “I’m so glad,” she breathes, her eyes shining. “I’m really happy. I wanted you to understand that it’s not like … I didn’t care.”

“We’ll get to see you more regularly now, right?” Scully asks tremulously. “You won’t vanish from our lives? I would like to … I would like to see you.”

Rose nods tightly. “You should know there will be risks,” she says. “It’s not entirely safe for us to have a relationship.”

“That’s fine,” Scully promises, tightening her hold on Rose’s hands. “We can deal with that. Please don’t worry about that.”

“I want to see you, too.” Rose’s voice is suddenly high. In Scully’s bifurcated vision she sees both the woman clasping her hands and the little girl on the floor coloring. Two in one, the same.

“Do you definitely have to go home today?” Scully asks. “You’re sure you can’t stay and have dinner?”

“I do,” Rose nods. “There’s something important to take care of. And I need to go back and check in—or they’ll worry.”

Scully nods somberly, not sure what to say to that. Her lip twitches involuntarily, thinking about the Walled Garden, about the many questions she has about where Rose lives, how she spends her days. Would she ever be able to see Rose’s accommodations? Would she ever be welcome there? Does Rose work or go to school?

“I should probably get going soon, actually,” Rose says, beginning to stand up from the table. “My car is parked about a mile away. I should start–”

“Rose, the Walled Garden operatives who came after Jackson,” Scully interrupts without stopping to think.

Rose freezes where she is. “Yes?”

“They mentioned that there were those in the organization who viewed Mulder and me as their flesh and blood.”

“Yes,” Rose says, nodding slowly.

“But Mulder isn’t related biologically to you.”

“No.”

“Yet they included him in that statement.”

“Like I told Mulder, most of the hybrids don’t have living family.”

“Most.” Scully feels her stomach knot.

“There are … a few others that do. Besides me.”

She considers her words for a heavy beat. Mulder must have thought of this, too. Scully knows he must have. Maybe he’s protected himself from thinking too much directly about it.

“The agricultural clones,” Scully guesses. “They are some of the hybrids that have family, too?”

Rose nods shortly. “One agricultural clone specifically,” she says.

Scully wonders if there’s some part of Mulder deep in denial that has kept him from asking Rose questions about this.

But she knows there’s a more important part of him that will, someday, want to know. That part of him that refuses to let things go. The dogged, loyal, ever-faithful part that puts family first, that never gave up on fixing things in their relationship, that always wanted to make things right with William, that set in his sights finding his sister for all those years.

It might be the very best part of Mulder. The part that made her fall in love with him. The part that went dormant when he was most depressed, and that had brought him back to life again recently.

When he’s had a chance to really think about this agriculture clone, Scully doesn't think that he’ll let go of hope where she’s concerned either.

“This clone. Does she… know she has family?”

“She does,” Rose says. “But … I don’t know what the idea of family means to her. The agricultural clones were raised differently than I was, you know. She’s older than me, but she didn’t have language until later in life.”

“What does she … what does she call herself?”

“Molly,” Rose says. She tilts her head. “Come to think of it, I think she chose it as a variant of her original’s last name. So maybe family does mean something to her.”

“I imagine Mulder might want to meet her someday.”

Scully remembers, for a moment, Mulder wanting a bigger house. More guest rooms.

Rose nods soberly. “I’ll mention it to her. See what she says.” She looks around at the kitchen, at the breakfast dishes, at the framed photos of Mulder’s parents. “Family definitely means something to Mulder, doesn’t it?”

Scully smiles. “Like it does to you.”

“I guess that’s right.”

“All those years,” Scully says wonderingly. “Were you happy? Were you loved?”

Rose’s eyes grow distant, as though she is replaying the events of the past to come to a decision on her answer.

“In some ways I was happy,” she says. “In some ways I was loved.” She pauses. “In some ways I was … neither.”

She begins to walk away, and Scully thinks to herself that she may never stop having questions for her. She may have to start making lists.

But suddenly Rose stops, and turns around halfway, speaking thoughtfully. “I think I did know what it was to love. To have that feeling ... directed towards someone else.”

She starts walking again, and her next words are almost to herself. “I’ll always be grateful to you and Jackson for that.”

***

[the-authoress-writes]

Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing

A MavDad/PennyMav Fic

Synopsis: What do paperwork and a manicure have to do with Pete Mitchell getting the happy ending he never thought he would?

Everything, apparently.

Warnings: Fluff—pure, unadulterated fluff with feels.

Author’s Note: At last, I fulfill my promise to write something for Mav!

I couldn’t be happier to finally write something where Mav is the star, and not the wingman, literal or figurative.

Honestly, this story idea has been floating around in my head for a while, and here it is!

I know I should be working on the next chapter of Wherever You Go, or heck, even my faceclaim post for said fic, but this just wanted to be written already, and hopefully, now that I’ve gotten it out of my system, I will be able to get back to writing that.

I swear I didn’t plan to post this around Valentine’s Day, but hey, I’m not complaining!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy my schmoopy MavDad indulgence!

“Honey, have you done your homework?” Mav heard Penny ask Amelia, from where he was drying the dinner dishes in the kitchen.

“Did it this afternoon, Mom, and I told you, the light is better here.”

“Okay, alright, let me just open a window before you suffocate us with the acetone,” Penny chuckled.

“Thanks, Mom.”

The sound of latches opening and glass bottles clinking together tinkled through the air, and the shadow of Penny crossing to open the window behind the breakfast nook fell across the counter next to him.

The cool breeze of a San Diego fall evening washed in, much like the distant tide.

A few soft footfalls later, warm arms wrapped around him. “Pete, honey, you coming up soon?”

Cracking a smile at the muted gag from the dining table, he sighed, leaning back against her. “I’ll try—I have a shit-ton of paperwork that Cyclone dumped on me.

The disadvantages of being an instructor and squadron leader,” he ruefully smiled, though he didn’t really regret taking the TOPGUN job and the position of CO of the newly created VFA-223, the “Black Cloaks”, comprised entirely of the Daggers and those who had been selected for the detachment training—or Maverick’s Ducklings, as Cyclone had dubbed them.

She nodded against his back. “Alright, come to bed when you’re done, okay?”

“I’ll be there.”

It was one of the best decisions in his life to work at his relationship with Penny—they had no chance of working when he was younger; his soul was too haunted, his heart, mind, and body chasing ghosts while also fleeing from them, but now… well, now, his mother’s engagement ring was sitting in the drawer of his desk at work, just waiting.

For what, exactly, he wasn’t sure.

The right moment, he guessed.

Mav heard Penny’s footsteps start up the stairs just as he placed the last glass in the cabinet, and after a wistful exhale, he grabbed the reluctantly-owned attaché case that Ice would have cackled over him having, which contained the classwork from his TOPGUN students, and the relatively sensitive training run reports of the Black Cloaks, setting it down at the dining table, across from where Amelia was… doing something to her nails.

He began working on the papers, and soon realized she was doing her nails.

After a while, Amelia murmured, “How’s the paperwork going?” a smirk like her mother’s on her face.

Belatedly, he realized he’d been watching her work instead of reading his reports. “It’s uh… paperworking,” he muttered lamely.

“I bet it’s better than watching nail polish dry.”

He blinked—she had her mother’s and her grandfather’s dry wit, that was for sure.

After that pointed reminder, the two of them worked in silence, the sound of a bottle of clear polish eventually punctuating the air with a sound of finality.

She blew on her hands for a while, then set them down on the table.

He soon felt the weight of her stare, and let it rest on him for about five minutes before he interjected, “How’s the uh, manicure?”

“Good.

The paperwork?”

“… It’s…”

“Boring,” she dared, raising an eyebrow.

He debated the consequences of telling Amelia responsibility was boring, but the truth was, no matter how interesting the maneuvers were in the air, the constraints of report language made them boring.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Figured.” She blinked, thoughtful. “Do you have to do anything special with the paperwork?”

“Not really, just read them over, and make sure that what they’re saying in the report matches up with what happened in the air.

And then I have to grade my students’ homework.”

Amelia nodded, and after a pause, she asked, “You any good at multitasking?”

Even though he wasn’t sure where she was going with this, he replied, “Pretty good.”

It was part of his job after all, especially since he switched to single-seat; having to calculate things like AOA and airspeed relative to the limitations of his aircraft, all while flying faster than the speed of sound, among other things.

“Okay.

You read those reports and grade that homework.

I’m going to tell you about my day while I give you a manicure.” She inhaled, something hesitant in her eyes. “Unless… unless you don’t want me to bug you—it’s teenager stuff and all that—”

He cut her off, “I’d love to hear about your day, Amelia.”

It hit something in his heart to see the quickly concealed shock in her eyes.

Yet another strike for Penny’s dick ex-husband in Mav’s book.

“You would?”

“Yeah, of course, kiddo.

But uh,” Mav scratched the back of his neck, “is the manicure really necessary?”

Like a flash of lightning, she leaned over the table and grabbed his hand, scrutinizing each finger and his palm, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Ugh—yeah.”

He hedged, “I’m pretty sure it’s against regs for me to have pink—”

“Relax, old man, there is such a thing as clear polish—Admiral Stick-in-the-Mud won’t see a thing.

And I need something to do too, I’m not even halfway tired yet.

Fixing your trainwreck hands oughta do the trick,” she gestured.

He laughed, switching the papers to his right hand. “Alright, Skylark, go to town.”

Amelia ducked her head and grabbed her nail file, failing to conceal her smile at the nickname he’d given her shortly after he and Penny got back together. “Okay, so, um, at school, math is my first subject, and honestly, whoever said math should be the first class of the day needs to be punished…”

Almost two and a half hours later, the paperwork was done, Mav’s nails were cut, filed, and polished, his cuticles trimmed, hands moisturized, and he knew every dirty, juicy secret of North Island High.

Amelia drowsily packed up her nail kit, which was the size of a small toolbox, while he did the same with his attaché case, and as a team, they checked the doors and windows of the house, making sure everything was secure.

The task done, they ended up back at the dining room. “All hatches battened down, Captain,” she sighed.

At his slightly perplexed frown, she rolled her eyes, “Seriously—you’re in the navy.”

“Like I told your mom, I don’t sail boats, I just land on them,” he chuckled.

“Well, it means everything’s good.”

He softly clapped his hands together, “Alrighty, let’s get to bed then.”

Amelia snorted, “God, you’re so old, who even says alrighty non-ironically anymore?”

“Alrighty isn’t cool anymore?”

“No.

Was it ever?”

“Uh…”

She shook her head, “Remind me to get you up to date, I can’t have you embarrassing yourself out there—you’ll lose all your cool.”

Mav immediately pointed, “So you think I’m cool?”

Caught like a deer in the headlights, she tried to backtrack. “I mean, don’t—don’t all you naval aviators think you’re like, the coolest or something?”

“No, no, no, no take-backsies; you think I’m cool,” he grinned.

She winced, “You’re killing me here—‘take-backsies’?”

“Come onnnn, Skylark.”

“Ugh, fine,” she groaned, “you’re—you’re sort of cool.”

“I’ll take it, kid.”

She smirked, then looked at her nail kit despairingly. “Seriously regretting bringing the whole thing down.

It’s heavy as hell.”

He reached for it, “Lemme get it for ya.”

Amelia attempted to bat his hands away, “No, I can carry it, Mav.”

“I got it—just focus on getting yourself up the stairs.”

She visibly debated the idea of arguing, but a yawn cut her off, and with the element of her eyes closed, he used the opportunity to gently wrap an arm around her shoulder and usher her up the stairs.

“You should have let me carry it—you’re too old to carry heavy stuff,” she muttered, mindful of her likely sleeping mother.

“I can carry this for you, don’t worry about me.

And next time you do my nails, you can carry it.”

They had arrived at her bedroom door, and she stopped short. “Next time?”

“Yeah, who else will help me get through my paperwork, take care of my hands, and let me know if Micah takes Kenna instead of Alyssa to Junior Prom?”

A smile curled the corner of her mouth. “I guess someone has to help you stay in the brass’ good graces so they don’t ship you out to the asscrack of America for not doing paperwork.”

“Can’t afford to leave you and your mom, Skylark.” And he really didn’t want to leave this time, not when he finally had so much to stay for.

“Or the chicken.

And the ducklings.”

“Yeah, them too,” Mav laughed quietly, similarly mindful of Penny, before handing the nail kit to her. “Anyway, here you go, Amelia.”

She took the nail kit, looking at him for a beat, like she had something to say, but wasn’t sure about whether to say it.

Finally, she said, “Thanks.

And, uh… I… I—I know I like giving you crap, but, I—I like—having you around, Mav.

And I—I…” she trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose, “you know what, never mind, I’m rambling, your disaster hands made me tired.”

He knew that she wanted to say something else just then, but he let it go, not wanting to pry. “I really, really like being around too, Skylark, and if I have anything to say about it, I won’t be going anywhere.”

“That’s good,” she smiled, swallowing thickly. “I, uh, I better go—gotta get that good sleep.”

“Alright, kiddo, goodnight.”

“Night, Mav.”

After a sleepy smile, she softly shut her door, and he continued up the stairs, getting into bed beside a sleeping Penny, wrapping himself around her, quickly drifting off to sleep.

“Alright, Daggers, good work on the hop, head to the hangar, and we’ll review the maneuvers,” Mav clapped his hands, looking at his squad, most of whom dispersed to the aforementioned location, save for Bradley, who hung back.

“I seriously don’t know how you do it, you crazy old man,” Bradley laughed, his Caravans doing nothing to hide the child-like glee in his eyes. “I thought we’d all learned everything our first TOPGUN sessions and during the detachment training, but somehow, you manage to teach us something new every time.”

“Well, I got to make sure you kids know everything I do, so you all can continue to terrorize the Navy when I retire,” Mav grinned.

Bradley scoffed, “You say that like you’re going to turn in your papers today—we both know the brass’ll have to drag you from your F-18, Mav.” His son in everything but name and blood paused, a twitch of his mustache the only giveaway of his rising concern. “I mean—you’re not doing that any time soon—right, Dad?”

He wrapped an arm around Bradley, “Nah, not about to leave you to the skies just yet, Baby Goose.

Not until I make you all better than me.”

His “Until I make sure you can survive anything,” went unsaid, but his boy, ever perceptive, leaned into the contact and murmured, “Love you too, Dad.”

“Love you more—” Mav cut himself off as he went to run a hand through his hair, frowning at his hand.

There on his thumb, in bright, varnished red, was a neatly drawn heart, and the letter U.

Distantly, he heard Bradley say, “Mav?

Dad, you okay?

What’s wrong?”

“This wasn’t here last night,” he muttered, showing Bradley his thumb.

The worry eased from his son’s face, replaced with amusement. “You let Skylark do your nails?”

“Yes, I did—sue me—but Roo, this wasn’t there last night, I distinctly remember making Amelia use clear nail polish.”

Bradley took his hand, scrutinizing it. “It looks like there’s top coat on here, so she put this last night.”

Mav couldn’t help the surprise on his face.

“Sue me, sometimes Phoe makes me paint her toenails,” the younger pilot muttered.

“How is that possible—I saw my hands after she did it; this wasn’t there.”

Bradley thought for a second, before the metaphorical lightbulb lit up. “Invisible nail polish.”

“What?

That’s a thing?”

“Yeah—absolutely.

It goes on clear, but stand in the sun or heat up your hands, it’ll turn the color it’s supposed to be.”

As Mav absorbed this information, the puzzle pieces came together in his head, what Amelia had been trying to say before they said goodnight, and tears sprang to his eyes.

“Dad?”

“Amelia loves me, Baby Goose—I can’t bel—I don’t—”

Immediately, Bradley took him into his arms. “Hey; Dad, listen to me: you deserve all the love in the world, okay?

And I am so sorry for my hand in making you feel like you don’t deserve love, but you do, Dad—I can assure you, you do.

I’m really happy for you.

Maybe now, you can muster up the guts to bust out that box that’s been hiding in your desk.”

Mav gasped, “How did you—”

“I saw it when I asked for some Post-It’s last week.

Seriously, you didn’t even make an effort to hide it.”

“You—you’re not mad I didn’t tell you?” he gulped.

Bradley smirked, pulling back, “Dad, I knew this was coming a long time ago, and really, as long as you’re happy and healthy?

I’m on your wing.”

Mav reached up, cupping Bradley’s face. “You’re a good kid, Baby Goose.”

Regret twisted his boy’s face. “Could have been better.”

“I love you regardless, kid.

Now come on, they’re probably all wondering where we are, let’s debrief so we can get outta here sooner; I need your help at the mall.”

“Su—wait, what?” It was amusing to see Bradley stop right in his tracks.

“I need to get something for Amelia; but I don’t know where to start.”

“I…” the younger pilot opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, before finally shutting it with a click and sighing, “I guess we’re going shopping later for Skylark, then.”

Mav eagerly slapped him on the arm, wide grin on his face as he dashed back to the hangar, and Bradley tried to not to feel that this mall mission was like stealing an F-14 all over again.

“Pen, Skylark, I’m home!” Mav ventured, hoping for the first time, that Penny wasn’t home.

“Just me, Mav, Mom’s still at The Hard Deck!” Amelia called back, and relief flowed through him; it made this a whole lot easier.

He followed the sound of her voice to the dining room, where she was bent over a textbook, and he pulled up the chair next to her. “Hey kiddo, you got a minute?”

Amelia froze and swallowed thickly, shutting her textbook slowly, an unreadable expression on her face. “Mav, I swear, if you have gotten yourself shipped off again, I am not going to be the one to tell Mom—”

“No!” he yelped, “it’s not like that.

I just wanted to talk to you for a bit.”

“Okay,” she breathed, still skeptical.

He reached out and took her hands in his right. “I got your message.”

She frowned, “I didn’t call you this—” she cut herself off at his meaningful look at his hand. “Oh—that.” She frantically shook her head. “I—I was just playing with you, it doesn’t—“

“I don’t think you were,” he gently pressed.

“I—I—Mav,” she breathed, eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights.

He pulled her into his arms. “I love you too, Amelia.”

And God, it broke his heart to hear her gasp, “You do?”

“Swear on my wings, Skylark,” Mav solemnly nodded into her hair.

He held her tighter against him as she sniffled, her small frame trembling.

When her trembling and sniffles subsided, he drew back. “Now, I have a pretty big question to ask you, Amelia.

It’s one I’ve actually wanted to ask for a while, but something held me back; I think I’m ready to ask now.

You up for it?”

She swiped the back of her hand across her face. “Shoot.”

He pulled a small, black velvet box from his jacket pocket, and opened it, laying it on the table. “You think your mom would like that?”

Her jaw dropped. “You…”

“Mm-hmm.

I’m asking your permission to marry your mother.”

She dared, “Hypothetically, what if I say no?”

Mav inhaled, wincing, “I would ask you to reconsider, but I’d respect that.”

A deep frown creased her brow. “You would deny yourself happiness just because I didn’t want you to marry Mom?”

He took her hand again. “Amelia, you and your mom are a package deal; the last thing on earth I want is to come between you and your mother.

And if that means that this never gets used… well, so be it.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and her voice shook, “You love Mom, right?”

He couldn’t help a soft smile. “I’ve… I’ve loved your mom for a long time, kiddo.

Yeah, I love her.”

“And you’re not going anywhere anytime soon, right?”

“If I have my way, I’m not going anywhere.”

Wordlessly, she nodded.

“Yeah?”

Nodding again, she stated, “Yeah, you can marry my mom.”

“Thanks, Skylark,” he beamed, wrapping an arm around her. “You don’t know what that means.

And hey, I have something for you.”

Mav pulled out the small, white bag he’d tucked in his bomber. “I had an idea of what I wanted, and Bradley told me this store was a good place to find what I was looking for—apparently, he’s bought here before.”

Amelia carefully took the box out of the bag, revealing a silver Pandora bracelet with a double charm of a silver swooping bird encrusted with small blue stones, a small round medal behind it saying “Time to fly” with stylized birds on it, and a simple, custom silver medal engraved with his handwriting, saying, “I love you too.”

Mav couldn’t help rambling, “It’s a Pandora bracelet, you can add charms to it if you want, I just wanted to give you something special; I was always going to give you this even if you didn’t give me your permission to marry your mother—”

“Mav.

This… this is too much,” Amelia breathed, interrupting him.

He twisted his mouth self-effacingly. “Nothing’s too much for those I love.”

Tears welled in her eyes again, and this time, she lurched forward into his arms.

He held her for a long moment, before pulling back to look at her. “Now, I need your help.

You and I need to get your mom here early, and you need to help Brads when he comes over in a bit; he’s bringing the food.”

Amelia’s eyes lit up. “You’re going to ask her tonight, aren’t you?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Didn’t know you were capable of making a plan, Mav,” she smirked.

“I am amazing at making plans, Skylark—come on, let’s get to work.”

Under the pretense of Amelia being very under the weather, both she and Mav had managed to get Penny home before the sun had even gone down—Penny burst through the door, gasping for breath. “Pete—Ames?”

“Here, Mom,” she called out from her seat in the dining room, exchanging happy glances with Mav and Bradley.

“What’s wrong, how are you feel—” Penny stopped short when she caught sight of the trio of Mav, Bradley, and Amelia at the dining table with shit-eating grins on their faces, connecting the dots that she did have. “You weren’t feeling sick, were you?” she addressed her daughter.

“It was my idea, Pen, we didn’t know how else to get you home faster,” Mav sheepishly spoke up, throwing himself on the figurative sword.

“Pete!”

“What?

I wanted us to… celebrate—family, you know?

Have a family dinner with your kid, my kid.”

Amelia piped up, “And my allergies were acting up really bad today, Mom.”

“You’re a bad influence, Pete.”

He stood, approaching her, his million-watt smile on full brilliance. “Aww, you love me.”

She stared stonily, before her eyes softened and the corner of her lips tipped up under the assault of his gaze and smile. “Unfortunately.”

Amelia and Bradley playfully gagged simultaneously, causing both Penny and Mav to laugh, to which Bradley spoke up, “Well, I still have to heat up the food I brought, because we didn’t know when you’d get here, Penny, so why don’t you two go for a walk on the beach, do whatever two old people in love do?”

Mav teasingly pointed, “Remember who kicked your ass in hops this morning, Baby Goose,” while Penny crossed her arms, seamlessly picking up the thread, “And who can raise the price of your drinks, Rooster.”

Bradley raised his hands in surrender. “That is freaky as hell.

Let’s leave them to it, Skylark, I need a wingman in the kitchen.”

Without even a peep of protest, Amelia followed Bradley, but not before giving Mav a supportive wink.

“What was that about?” Penny narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend.

“What?”

“That wink Amelia sent you.”

“Did she?

I didn’t see anything.”

She tilted her head skeptically, but he continued, “Why don’t we take Baby Goose’s suggestion and go take a walk on the beach?

It’ll be nice, sweetheart.”

Despite the feeling that Mav was up to something, she nodded and laced her arm through his offered elbow for the suggested beach walk, not knowing the other hand tucked in his bomber pocket was wrapped around a little black velvet box.

It was a nice evening, warm, but with a breeze coming in off the ocean, and the sunset was gorgeous.

Penny walked along the shore, arm in arm with Mav, just enjoying each other’s company in a way they wouldn’t be capable of over thirty years ago.

They had both grown so much as people, in so many ways, big and small, and she tilted her head, briefly leaning it against his shoulder.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he murmured, a smile in his voice.

She chuckled, “You’re corny.

But I was thinking about us.”

“Hmm—good thoughts?”

“Yeah.

I don’t think we could have had this years ago.

I’m so glad that we have it now, before it was too late.”

He sighed heavily. “That’s on me, Pen.

I am more sorry than you know—so much wasted time.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Pete; the time was right.

And we still have time, it’s not like either of us have a foot in the grave.”

“It’s less time than I’d like.”

She smiled softly, “You romantic.”

“I try,” he joked, soon growing serious. “But… as much as I wish it weren’t the case, I guess the time was right for us.

Even just five years ago… I’d have crashed and burned us, and there’d be no hope after that.

But now… look at us.”

“I know.”

“Penny… there’s so much I want to tell you, but I don’t know if I have the words to describe them,” he breathed, tone intense.

She ran her hand soothingly up and down his arm, knowing he was just collecting himself.

“I—with you, solid ground feels just as much like home as the sky always has.

Your love makes me feel free, when I’ve never wanted so much to stay in one place before.

You know all my issues, my shortcomings, my fears, and yet, you’re still here.

I don’t deserve a woman like you, but somehow, you chose me.”

“Pete—”

He stopped them, took both her hands in his, and slowly knelt in the sand, before he plucked a black velvet box from his jacket pocket. “All this is to say, Penelope Marissa Benjamin, will you make me the happiest man on earth and make me your husband?”

She gasped, her eyes darting from Mav’s earnest face to the beautiful solitaire diamond set in a simple band of yellow gold. “Isn’t it supposed to be ‘be my wife?’”

“I’m marrying up, here,” he grinned, continuing, “so what do you say?

Because Captain Benjamin-Mitchell definitely has a ring to it.

Though your dad would probably have a heart attack at the thought of me having his last name too.”

“I think he’s come around to you, actually—he calls you ‘that damn Maverick’ instead of ‘that fucking Mitchell’, nowadays.”

Mav tilted his head from side to side, considering. “I’ll take it.

So… marry me?”

“Yes.

Yes, I will,” she breathlessly replied.

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered, delight shining in his eyes, his hands shaking as he placed the ring on her finger.

It fit perfectly, and Mav wistfully sighed. “My mom would be so happy to see this now.

This was hers, you know.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked at the ring again, the vintage cut of the diamond now obvious to her. “Oh, Pete.”

His eyes grew glassy, and Penny immediately wrapped him in an embrace.

“I love you, Pen.”

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and she held on tighter, matching his own grip on her. “I love you too.”

When she felt his hold on her loosen, she pulled back, cupping his face in her hands. “You okay?”

Mav leaned into her touch. “I am now.”

“Good.”

“The kids should have dinner ready by now.” He sniffled, clearly thinking of something. Finally, he asked, “Uh, would you mind… helping me up?

My uh, knee is a little stiff.”

Penny chuckled, shifting her hands to help her now-fiancé up, a surprised little yelp escaping her when Mav spun the two of them in a circle, his joyful laugh singing through the air.

Mav took in the scene at the dining table before him like it was a fine wine; Amelia and Bradley were animatedly sharing stories from high school, trying to see who had the weirdest stories, both of them sending him “Can you believe this?” glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking; Amelia’s bracelet catching the light as she swept her hand in an expansive gesture; Penny at his side laughing at the stories Amelia and Bradley were telling, while she repetitively ran her thumb across his knuckles, his mother’s ring sparkling on her hand.

He never in a million years could have imagined he’d have this at this point in his life; in all honesty, he had been prepared to burn in over some foreign sea or land, decades ago.

But here he was.

And if not for his wingman ordering him to teach an impossible mission, this reality would doubtlessly be impossible.

Gratitude filled his heart, and he sent a thought to the heavens; “Thank you, Ice—for everything.”

High above the San Diego night sky, a singular star blinked, sending back, even though its intended recipient would never know; “You’re welcome, Mav.”

Title is from the song of the same name.

(I really like to name stories after songs, don’t I?)

I headcanon Mav as being neurodivergent, and for me, as someone with ADHD, more often than not, having something else to focus on in the background, helps me get something that I am directly focused on done.

Invisible nail polish does exist, though let’s suspend our disbelief about how dark it can turn if the pre-change color is clear…

The charms I describe are real—you can see the bird charm here, and Pandora does offer an engraving service to make charms with your handwriting on them!

I’ll leave it up to your imagination as to who Bradley purchased Pandora for…

(That’s not teasing, I’m genuinely leaving it up to you)

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[mlmxreader]

My Ghost | Tyler Durden x m!reader

Anonymous asked: Hey it's me again :)

So i wanted to request a more angsty fic whit Tyler Durden and an M!reader whit the prompt "Tell me you love me".

I was thinking about the story taking place in the months where Tyler disappears (whit the presumption he's actually real y'know) and the reader looking for him everywhere only to stumble in him in a dark alley behind a bar and confronting him about leaving and unresolved feelings.

Thank you sm dude 

-🐊

summary: Tyler is many many things, you just didn’t think he could be a ghost. 

tws: swearing, smoking, Tyler being an asshole in general, mentions of sex

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

You guessed that you should have seen it coming a long while ago, you guessed you should have known that the day would come when Tyler would no longer be with you, would no longer want to be around you and would abandon you in favour of the next hot thing that caught his eye; you just weren’t expecting it to be so sudden. It was like he had never even been with you in the first place, everything in your home felt like it had been untouched by the sinful grace of Tyler Durden. 

The chair where he usually piled up his clothes when he stayed over was barren and empty. The table that he usually left littered with Red Bull cans and Starbucks coffee cups was a wasteland of nothing but dust. His smell no longer lingered in your bed, sheets seemingly freshly washed. His bottles of cologne and pots of hair gels didn’t haunt the bathroom. His coats weren’t chucked on the sofa. It was as if Tyler never even existed, never even entered your life. You knew you should have seen it coming, you just didn’t expect it to be so fucking sudden; you thought he would at least tell you goodbye.

But you probably weren’t important enough for that. 

For a while, you were looking everywhere for him, just to ask what you could have done differently, just to ask what you could have done to make him stay; you could have sworn you spent more time searching for him than anything else. Every day after work, you would go out looking for him in the usual areas; checking to see if he still haunted them, hopeful but knowing you probably wouldn’t so much as hear a ghostly whisper of his name. 

Tyler Durden was a ghost. 

You were out with Jean one night, gossiping about your boss Patrick over a few drinks and talking about what a fucking vile cunt he was; although you didn’t want to admit it, you were appreciative of something to take your mind away from Tyler. You knew you were a fool for doing so, but you missed him; you wanted him to take you back, call you his boyfriend once more. But it had been at least a month, and if you were going to find him again, you would have by now. She caught you looking around more than a handful of times, and took it upon herself to change the subject.

“You should put yourself out there,” Jean told you with a shrug. “You’re a handsome, funny, smart guy, (y/n) - anyone would be lucky to have you. Fuck Tyler.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I know, I know… maybe I’m an idiot.”

She shook her head, clenching her jaw. “Don’t you dare say anything like that again. You are so fucking smart, don’t tear yourself down over some guy.”

You sighed, downing the rest of your drink before you took another look around. “I need a cigarette - you wanna come with?”

“No, I’m good,” Jean gave you a soft smile. “Just… think about what I told you, yeah?”

“Alright,” you kissed her cheek before you left. 

You weren’t going to stray far from the pub, but you had every intention of wandering around a little as you smoked your cigarette; trying to drum it into yourself that you were better than that, you were better than the ghost, you were a handsome, funny, smart guy and you certainly could have done better than Tyler. You didn’t need him, you could move on and find someone better, someone who wouldn’t just suddenly up and leave. 

But then, in a dark alley behind the nightclub that stood opposite the pub, you could have sworn you saw the outline of the ghost you were chasing after; hunched over wearing a red leather jacket, red leather sunglasses to match. No asshole would be caught dead wearing those sunglasses at that time of night; but then, he was no ordinary asshole. 

“Tyler!” 

He looked up, grinning. “Oh, hey, baby.”

You marched over, and the second you were close enough, you smacked him; it made him laugh as he recoiled. “You fucking prick! You absolute fucking stupid cunt!”

“Woah,” Tyler grinned, putting his arm around your waist until you pushed him back. “Puppy finally got his bite as well as his bark, huh?”

You shook your head, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket as you brought him closer. “You fucking left me.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged. Nonchalant.

“You broke my heart.”

“Shit happens.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” you spat. “I looked for you, I asked for you - no one heard so much as a fucking flea fart.”

Tyler smiled smugly. “Couldn’t get me out of your head, huh?”

“Fuck you,” your vision was going blurry with tears. “Fuck you!”

“Look at you,” he chuckled. “You couldn’t stay away from me.”

“I fucking hate you,” you whispered. “I despise you.”

Gently, Tyler grasped your chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding you in place as he easily took control, grinning so fucking smugly that you wanted to just smash his face against the nearest surface. “Tell me you love me.”

You were ashamed of it, but you couldn’t stop yourself, “I… I still love you.”

“Good boy,” he whispered. “What’re you doing out so late?”

“I was drinking with Jean,” you murmured. 

“Jean,” Tyler scoffed. “Y’know, she only hangs out with you because she wants to fuck you instead of her Yuppie scum boss… even then that’s only because he won’t.”

“No, she doesn’t,” you huffed. “Jean loves me, we’re thick as thieves!”

“Trust me,” Tyler gently dragged his thumb along your bottom lip. “She wants to fuck you.”

“You’re projecting.”

“Not tonight,” he chuckled, letting go of you and laying his arm across your shoulders. “C’mon, I’ll go drink with you both.”

“Tyler-”

“I’ll buy your drinks,” he reassured, shaking his head. “And, uh, for the record? I’m gonna take you home with me later, too.”

“I haven’t forgiven you.”

“Never said you did,” he shrugged. “But we’ll get there eventually… this is just round two.”

“You’re an ass,” you murmured, smiling for a moment. “I hate you… and we’re going back to my place, not yours.”

[lvrrocks]

she doesn’t matter anymore . korekiyo shinguji

📓 kinda sad :(

💻 this is a fic between one of my ocs and Korekiyo. Basically in this, my oc, who’s name is Hisayo Amamiya, comforts Kiyo after some flashbacks of his sister. Kiyo was having a decent day til someone who looked like his sister was talking to him at the store, in a voice that reminded him of her, and he ended up not being in the best mental state after that. Hisayo helps <3

👤 korekiyo shinguji x hisayo amamiya ( an oc of mine )

📍 Kinda angst? Sad angst? , Sad kiyo :( , heavy talk of kiyos sister , kiyo having a bit of a mental breakdown (kinda?) , a very very vague mention of sa , don’t worry it’s fluffy at the end !!

• • • •

“Darling?” She called. “Baby, hey, where are you?”

She could hear her lover’s cries from their shared bedroom. She hated hearing him this way.

“Kiyo! Baby? Hey, hi, there you are-“ she’d come over to sit next to Korekiyo, but she was taken aback at how red his eyes were. “Aw, lovey.. it’s alright.”

Kiyo turned his red, puffy eyes to look at her face, tears streaming down his own. The eyeliner he always had so perfectly and intricately drawn around his orbs was smudged. “You.. you didn’t see her.”

“Baby, of course I saw her. I’m so sorry.”

“No!” he let out an outburst that surprised even him and Hisa. “She.. she was just like her. Same eyes. Same long hair. Oh my god did she come back to haunt me? My love, please I beg you, don’t let her near my soul again.”

“My love, she doesn’t matter anymore. She is not here to touch you, I promise. And even if she is? I won’t let her near you. Ever.”

“But.. what if she.. what if..”

“Darling. Hey, Kiyo? Hey, hey look at me,” she held her lover’s face, moving it towards her own. “My love, she’s not here anymore. I made and will make sure of that. We cut your hair, I got rid of all the lipstick you kept for her, I burned your old uniform. She’s not here, alright? It’s just me. You know I wouldn’t hurt you, right?”

Korekiyo’s slender face faced hers, and he nodded. “Yes.. I just.. after all she did to me, all she made me do.. all she made me feel.. I just.. don’t want to experience that again..”

“I know my darling. And I’ll make sure it doesn’t. Okay? I love you far too much to let that happen. And you know I would never, never do that to you,” she rubbed her thumb softly against his tear-stained cheeks, “Do you understand?” And she meant that in the most genuine way possible.

Slowly, he nodded, leaning into her touch. “Yes.. you have never given me any reason to not trust you my love. She’s gone.. I know that.. sometimes it’s as though her ghost comes back to haunt me. Your graceful, but rough beauty could never measure up to anything she tried doing for me.”

She smiled, leaving a small kiss on his nose, before Korekiyo left a kiss on her lips. She fell right into it, softly caressing his cheek, as he slowly wrapped his arms around her waist. They stayed that way for a while.

Happy in each other’s embrace. Comfortable.

Safe.

Whole.

For the rest of their evening, they told ghost stories and lit candles while watching their favorite movies.

Korekiyo reveled in the fact he’d met someone who loved him for who he was, and didn’t coerce him into anything at all. He felt safe in her arms, in her embrace.

And he thanked the gods for such an angel.

And soon, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, in the dimly lit bedroom.

They were comfortable there. Happy.

And they couldn’t ask for anything more.

• • • •

Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave any criticism in the notes <3

[asweetprologue]

Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again. 

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con 

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings. 

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD 

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily. 

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449 

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates. 

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

~

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

[ficsnroses]

𝑯𝒊𝒔 - 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜

johnny silverhand x fem! V [reader]. 

summary : johnny and you both want this, a physical exchange to feel relief. 

warnings : smut, nsfw. rough unprotected sex. swearing. 2.5k words. no spoilers other than johnny’s status.

notes : something new! next to zero plot, just some good ol fucking each other’s brains out smut. I had a lot of fun writing this, might write some more fics for him if readers are interested. enjoy! feedback appreciated as always. also! i’d love to read some johnny fics if you have recommendations :)

She’s slipping away, day by day by day.

Exhilarating, exhausting. The steps under her feet hurt, they mock. With each dragged, littered breath trudged out her lips, she crumbles. Crumbles in what feels as if the boneyard of a dream; the debris of a reverie.

She hurts, she needs relief. Something temporary to match what swills inside.

Relief that would come in something more than amber kissed crystal glasses, something stronger than the wash of bitter liquor searing down her throat. Alcohol feats in her head- but so does he.

He feats in her head, he’s taking over. Day by day, by day.

“Hey highness, why don’t you make yourself useful and get more smokes.”

His voice comes in loud barrels, thuds of lightening that crash in her veins. It’s sharp, pronounced. Gravelly, a contrast, disparity to her quieter, mellower one- one that caused a ruckus to be heard for the entirety of her being, to be remembered.

Yet, it hadn’t gotten her far. She’d been far from what she’d dreamt.

       Her voice, her quiet, broken voice that plead to be heard.

He stands crisp, muscled back brave against the cold metallic wall. Broken drags and hostile exhales haste out his throat, the tared smoke serving as a dire remembrance of what he used to be.

Real.

“Gonna move or what?” Strong, cynical. The tone he spits is rough, pessimistic. He’d come as a parasite, something humane no more, driven by a dream, a delusion. His delusion, he’d use her for. There’s no affliction in his voice, no compassion. His voice registers dimly through the rumble of her own agony.

Somewhere along blurred lines, parasitic growls became usual; anticipated.

It’s tough being angry at someone who hears you.

And somewhere along the dreary lines, he’d felt it too.

It’s tough being angry at someone who sees you. Sees someone, the world had long forgotten.

Her voice comes in sharp daggers, strident. “Shut up.” Long for relief brews in her nerves, threatens to overtake. Threatens to destruct. “Shut the fuck up for one second” She growls, a low huff under her breath. The burn is breaking her, the yearn scorches inside long empty walls.

He knows too, he senses the deliberation inside her. He feels it in cold, chilled ghastly bones. He could help her, and she could help him, with something more than the mission at stake. Something sinfully bigger than the dream.

Something to feel human, again. He walks, a hologram that leaves louder, heavier steps than anyone she’d known prior. She feels a tingle; a twitch in her skin ignites, she feels a dark warmth.

It comes from him; it calls from his body.

“You’re an asshole. Nothing more.” She pierces, the toxins fall her lips, a desperate attempt to keep him away. Keep him out.

The drags of his steps thud louder in her head, the shift of his holographic form closer. There’s a hoarse gravel in his throat, something so negative, yet so familiar. So painfully familiar. He lives inside her, he’s all she’s began to remember. “Cigarettes make me feel something.” The cool air that stings the nape of her neck sends a shiver down her spine. “Something fucking real for once.”

“Fuck off.” She spits, avoiding a sworn intense gaze. Her stare in the abyss out the distant paned windows causes a churn in her mid, something sickening. A quiet realization falls, creeping.

“You’re taking over me.”

A chuckle off his mouth, a smirk curled to his thin taut lips. “We are bound.” He growls. “And I am owed.”

Chained; she reminds herself. You are chained, shackled to him.

“You’re owned nothing.” She grits. He watches the way she tenses, visibly burning.

In his hallow shell of a mind long forgotten, he’d undressed her a thousand times; watched the way she slept so vulnerably, thought of the way the threads that hug her body like a lover could peel off so easily. So sinfully. “Can’t help but wonder what this pretty pussy of yours could make me feel instead.” A growl emits his throat, stocked fingers finding their way palming thin fabric shielding her cunt from prying gaze.

And the touch that registered leaves her panting. His touch, something she’d never felt before, was real. He was real. This ghost that drowns in her every thought was existent as day, dark as night.

“You want me, as much as I want you.” His voice comes in drowned out waves; the long inside her body for something physical slowly enveloping. “Fucking say it.”

She dreams of relief, of release. She dreams of good, pleasure that could wash her lungs; quench the burn. She dreams of something more than the familiar scald of liquor sent in cascades down her throat. She dreams of something physical, something filthy to satiate relief.

Sex starved, she succumbs. Sex longing, he smirks, and smirks,

       and smirks.

Stop, says her mind.

Go, haunts her body. Let him use you the way you’ve always wanted.

“Fuck me.” She mutters, breath rugged, crisp desperation rung on shade stained lips. “Fuck me. Now.”  The words rip, long pent frustrations urge. He’s far too appealing, perfectly groomed beard and lengthy locks raven on his mane; toned muscles, cryptic bolded ink litter his skin. Deep-rooted ink bedecks his un robotic arm, and she sighs at the way his smirk induced lips crawl at her neck. Lingering kisses, gentle bites leaving faint purple bruises to her delicate skin;

Something about the way he speaks, the way his touch held the power of a million fucking bullets.

Unmatched, unprecedented.

Cold and stoic, his bionic hand plants to her chest, above the valley of perfectly plump breasts. Slowly, he guides, her body finding refuge on her bed covered in a sea of soft sheets and cottoned pillows. The same bed, where she knew he’d fuck her into oblivion, now that she’d asked.

A fire burns in his belly, a smoke that matches lustrous eyes roving and bulging pants. Through brown leather, the outline of his impressive cock causes a gulp in her throat, the anticipation tightening in her ached cunt, long yearned for the fruit of any friction. “Take everything off.” His shallow voice demands, and she watches the way he palms a throbbing cock shielded from her gaze.

Johnny was equipped, experienced; expert to say the least. He knew well how to please a woman, how to mix the perfect blend of pain and pleasure. If there’s one thing groupie affairs taught;

all pussy is good, but only few, came heavenly.

He’d known since he’d saw her, since their first encounter. There’d been no place he’d wanted to be buried guts deep, no place as tight, warm, inviting than her cunt. Her movements follow obliged, skimpy cloth and thin bottoms tugged off for his view. Amatory lace bottoms and a matching bra unhook through the brittle fingers of her hands; her eyes never leave him. The way his prying eyes dig into hers, piercing. He palms, and strokes, cold hands moving to unbuckle a heavy belt that falls to the floor with a dense thud.

In the chilled air of the futuristic room, a cold shiver pecks at her skin; inch by inch a warmth blazes inside. The anticipation of what Johnny would, could do to her. He could destroy her.

He could ruin her, with every thrust.

Much to his splendour, her bare breasts sit perfectly swollen on her chest, pert, hardened nipples vibrant with tint. Silky skin, perfectly dewy. She was a fucking goddess in her own right; a sex siren his cock pulses for, in dire need. A flush to her skin ignites, visibly frustrated. “Haven’t been fucked in a while, have you.” He states firmly, less of a question than proclamation. A cold, robotic finger grazes her bottom lip, stony, iced, a snicker loiters. “Or haven’t been fucked well?” His finger trails down, gently, sub-zero, feather light as it glosses her skin, brushed against the petals, the slippery folds of her tender womanhood; two digits enter, curling inside her beautifully slick, warm walls.

“You’re gonna remember me for days, princess. Gonna wreck this pretty pussy of yours, show you what it means to be alive.”

In this moment, she’d swore she belongs to him. She’d permit his pessimistic soul to do whatever he sought, with her frail body.

“Gonna pull it out or what, coward.” She allows, that familiar confidence she’d so desperately tried to hold true finding light once again.

She tries, she pleads to be strong. Yet she knows, she’d be sure. She’d crumble under him; she’d fall mercy to his mechanical touch.

“Patience.” He sneers, motorized hands unzipping. “Patience is virtue, darling.”

Somewhere along the way, she’d gotten accustomed to snarky remarks, egotistical transcriptions.

His cock falls out of his pants, heavy, thick, big, beautiful. She swallows, intrigued by the grandeur, a rosy tip swells with beads of wet pre cum, seeps. A thunderous vein runs down a curved shaft, copious balls surrounded by a jungle of dark hair.

She swallows at the sight; his words stay true. Intimidated, she’d for sure remember him, for days. The ache he’d leave would triumph for days to come.

“On your back.” He demands, pants long forgotten to the flat below, a few meagre tugs jerked to his raw, throbbing member.

Johnny Silverhand had fucked countless women, yet none made his cock as painfully erect, tender as she did. In the most sinful of ways, his cock would become her prisoner, and they hadn’t even started yet. With a rock hard cock digging into the skin of her stomach, he takes positon above her, towering. The scent of need fills the air as silky legs spread for his taking,

She spreads for his taking. A gasp dies in her throat as his cock springs, the deep baritone moan in his chest grumbling as his erection dips forcefully into her tiny mouth, impeding down her throat with a sole thrust. His hips buck forcefully in her wet, tight mouth, lingering as his jaw tightens, before plummeting out.

He’d primed himself in her throat, preparing to be buried between feeble legs, drowned inside her tender cunt.

Glancing between sweat stippled bodies, she stares and stares when his hands line a pulsating cock up with her entrance, firm hands planting to her hips, his massive member sinks inside her, rough, robust. A heavy thrust implores, big, warm, beautiful. One deep, harsh thrust was all it took. All it took for her to ascend, a loud moan of pure pleasure let off her lips at the sheer weight of him inside.

The bass of his voice moans harsh, sucking in a sharp breath to the feel of her wrapped, glistening his cock with her creamy, wet releases. His pace proves animalistic, hard off the get go, minimal time for her to adjust before he pounds her hastily, laboured breaths and quickened heavy exhales channelling out both their bodies. Delicate, weak arms desperately hold his broad shoulders as he drills into her needily, sloppily, the sound of thick balls slamming her core echo grey walls, dark eyes and enticingly deep grunts kissing her ears as he takes her body whole. “Fuck…you’re...” He breathes, rugged, harsh. “You’re…so fucking tight. So fucking wet.” Growling, he watches her become a whimpering, disorderly mess under his weight as beautifully plump breasts jerk hastily to his hostile pace. Her eyes flutter closed, lips slightly agape as she breathes tiny, gasped moans, fingernails clawing into his fleshy shoulders.

His hips rock expertly, so rough, so quick she feels warm tears singe in he corners of her eyes at how well he fucks her, how guttural his moans fall. Praises for her pussy dawdle his lips in hasty exhales, chasing his orgasm as her cunt cocoons, moulds to his cock so perfectly; as if a glove, as if she’d been made just for him. Solely for him to use, for him to fuck. His hold on her tightens, hands kneading tantalising hips as one moves to squeeze her breast, tough. The stretch he leaves proves incomparable, eyes widening when the curve of his cock hits her G spot repeatedly, hisses of her name and rapt desire overtaking. A selfish pace conjures, her body jerks, stifling moans with each imperative thrust.

The pain, the pleasure. The unholy pleasure of this parasite splitting her inch by inch. His cock glides easily, slips in and out gratifyingly; whimpers and yelps brew her voice, a chant of his name desperately recited as if a prayer she’d held, punctuated by growls and throaty gruffs of his. With her tits bouncing vigorously to his pace, Johnny’s need only cultivates further, and he drowns in the feel of her heavenly cunt.

His, all, and only, his.

Her legs tremble, a bite sinks into her arm covering her mouth to cage particularly gruesome moans. The violent labour of his hips, over and over, and over leave every vein inside her snapping, every nerve ending sparking with lust, she feels him all. His entire cock barely fitting; she squirms under him, his buttery voice filtered with demand. “Tighten up for me. Milk this cock like it’s the last thing you’ll do.” His moans fall heavier, as his thrusts; sultry, stiff voice surging her ears as he shudders, shivering, buried deep, deep inside. A cocktail of glossy, creamed releases they’d create together drip to the sheets below, although neither cease to care.

A joint euphoria builds, something they’d needed dire. Her limbs wrap his frame, his muscles cage her tight. He pounds, he thrusts, he jolts, he relishes in the tender haven she’d given him to spoil in; the sound of his cock slicking in her wetness through unaltered thrusts proves far too much, she feels each ridge, each inch of his godly cock assaulting her core.

“Gonna cum,” Johnny asserts, pace never faltering. She jolts, and jolts, and cries, and whines to his speed, to his feel. Within a few particularly intense thrusts, lewd moans drive out her lips in frantic succumb, her pussy throbs for him, skin colliding, arousing him further. Holding dearly, she practically melts into him, hips bucking to meet his as a blissful, earthshattering orgasm washes over her in currents; in oceanic waves, a tsunami of all things good, all things filthy.

Her pussy falls sore, aching, delicate from the action when he grunts imperatively, the sound of hammering hips into her heat dying down when his cock twitches within her, slipping through silky arousal easily, slamming relentlessly when his high comes. It comes, he cums, deep, deep inside her trifling cunt, swollen thick and jerked as spurts of hot, scotching cum coat the insides of her pussy. The groans he lets out prove impatient, hoarse, coursing, currenting through her ears. She beats with his succulent release inside, a cocktail her juices and what he’d left behind coating the insides of her thighs.

In sex gratified bliss, her eyes widen when he collapses on top, thunderous arms holding her still, cock excruciating felt within. Tonight, she’d been told. She’d been shown,

Johnny likes it

Sloppy. Vulgar. Tight.

pornographic.

       Johnny likes it rough, hard.

Ruthless, and she’d crumbled in each inch of it. Addicted, long gone. He’d sworn the same, intoxicated by her unrivalled cunt, those soft, whingeing moans that flee her lips;

With their skin sticking together through beads of peppered exertion, laboured puffs and heavy huffs pound in their chests, bodied still fitted together as if a puzzle piece, cock still sheathed inside. Simpering, smirking, his cold, contemporary finger lifts the faint of her chin,

the world seemed to have ended in this moment.

her world had ended, shaken.

But time still passed, it passed, it tightened, clawed in her chest.

Nothing compared to him, nothing tasted as sweet.

“We are bound, kitten. This pussy is mine, and mine alone.”

       A declaration, a fate written.

He’d taken over another part of her; and this time, she let him.

Her body belongs to him, in all forms.

His fuck doll, she’d be.

And she knows, she feels it in her bones. He’ll be the death of her through what comes;

       he’ll love to ruin her.

 and she’ll love, to be his.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[thefanficmonster]

Deep Breaths

Valkyrae x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Panic Attack, Mentions of past domestic abuse, Mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, Swearing

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst to Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having received a call from the correctional facility where their alcoholic/drug addict mother is being kept, Y/N gets some intense nightmarish flashbacks to a time that still haunts them despite a decade having passed. Luckily their girlfriend Rae is there to comfort therm.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request, I hope I captured what you wanted to read! Sorry it has taken me so long to complete and post the fic, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Love, Vy ❤

“Hey Y/N, I-“ One step in the living room and that’s all it took for Rae to pick up on the melancholic mood in the room. 

Her partner hasn’t even noticed she’s entered. Instead, they are sitting hunched over on the couch, elbows on knees, hand seeking their hands’ support to stay upright and their eyes hiding a thousand yard stare that’s got Rae worried sick.

“Babe, what’s wrong?“ She asks softly, inching closer to the couch to take a seat next to Y/N, “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?“

Through the fog surrounding their brain, they somehow manage to catch onto Rae’s words, forcing themself to give her at least a nod in response as to not scare her with their unresponsiveness. They can’t bring themselves to speak, it’s too hard on them to even think of what to say let alone spit it out, especially when their chest feels like it’s caught fire and their mind is still going haywire, heartbeat thumping in their ears as the adrenaline rush refuses to cease.

“Hey, look at me...“ Instead of sitting down, Rae ducks down in front of Y/N, taking their hands in hers, almost wincing at how cold they were. “Tell me what’s bothering you, baby.“

The girl is trying her best not to freak out or lose her cool, despite her already quickened heartbeat she can hear in her ears. She has every right to be reacting the way she is. Her permanently happy, bubbly, optimistic and cheerful partner who always seems to be as energized as though they’d just had a gallon of coffee is now a pale ghost sitting statue-still, staring off into the void with eyes that look empty yet terrified simultaneously.

Y/N’s mouth falls open as though they want to say something but the words die out somewhere along the way, refusing to leave their mouth and give them the relief of sharing their pain with the only person they trust limitlessly.  “I-...“ They finally manage to find their voice though their gaze is still avoiding hers, “I got a call from the correctional facility where....” They trail off, a bitter taste forming in their mouth, making their stomach turn and bite the inside of their cheek as they feel the urge to throw up start to become unbearable. “She wants to s-see me...”

They don’t need to say anything else, Rae’s already connected the dots and her complexion has gone just as pale as theirs. She knows how sensitive and triggering this topic is for Y/N, how many bad memories are tied to this one person in their life. To make matters worse, they’re the one person who was supposed to take care of them yet she couldn’t even take care of herself - Y/N’s mother.

Rae distinctly remembers the night Y/N told her the truth about their family life - or the lack thereof - almost a year since the two had started dating. Rae never questioned their secretiveness and respected their privacy enough not to ask about it, patiently waiting for them to tell her on their own time and own terms. It was no secret even from the very start that Y/N had a very hard time connecting to people and trusting them. It took them maybe two or so months to be able to call their now-girlfriend a friend instead of an acquaintance. Rae didn’t question that too, didn’t push to pursue a friendship with them since, from her point of view, they were already her friend, so she patiently waited for them to come around and start trusting her enough to accept her within their tightknit circle of trusted people called ‘friends’. 

Things progressed from purely platonic to sweetly romantic a little more quickly which pleasantly surprised Rae. The two were quick to grow to be inseparable though that didn’t mean Y/N gave up all their secrets. The darkest one, which happens to be this one regarding their mother, is the one they hid the longest and the last one they had to share with their girlfriend.  The night they did tell it was a very emotional one: plenty of tears were shed by both Y/N and Rae but luckily they had each other’s embrace to seek comfort in and protect themselves from the ghosts and demons of a past Y/N spent so much time running away from.

An abusive parent is not a bit of baggage you can just get rid of. It’s something that weighs so heavy on you and is such a big part of who you are that you can feel it as a part of you. It haunts you no matter how much you try to run or hide. It’s not something you can shake off or forget. You might have physical and visible scars from the time spent with said parent or the trauma can be entirely psychological - regardless, it lives within you. Follows you around, raises questions you’re not sure you want answered, degrades you - making it seem like what happened was your fault in one way or another - it destroys you slowly very time something triggers a memory of that time, be it a simple conversation that has nothing to do with the subject or be it the glimpse you accidentally catch in the mirror of a scar on your body - a scar you remember being inflicted on you like it was yesterday.

That’s how Y/N’s been living. Feeling responsible, feeling unloved, feeling chained to their past. They’ve done all in their power to appear unbothered and let it be visible, not even when around Rae since they don’t want to worry her.

But seeing as their past has caught up to them now and they inevitably have to face it, they’re forced to let it show, they couldn’t hold it in even if they tried. Although they don’t wanna play the unbothered, unfazed part any longer. They have been strong on their own for far too long and it’s taken a toll on them. If they keep up with the act, they’ll be completely and utterly crushed.

Not that they’re feeling any better at the moment.

“Stay with me, Y/N. Stay with me. Keep your eyes on me, ok? Take deep breaths. Deep breaths, baby. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. It’s ok. You’re ok.“ Their short-circuiting brain has been spasming under the influence of the adrenaline, anxiety and panic brought on by the memories of every time they felt small and helpless while at the merciless hand of their alcoholic, drug addict abusive mother, begging to be spared the pain of being hit with whatever object the deranged woman could get her hands on - yet somehow, Rae’s voice still reaches them through all that messy dark fog. “Come on, Y/N, stay with me ok? Please don’t do this, I’m right here, there’s no need to be afraid,”

“I...“ they can barely hear their own voice over the racing of their heart, “I don’t...I don’t wanna go....“ is all they manage to say, a tear falling from their eye.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to go. We won’t go. Your mental health is the most important thing here, Y/N. We’re not going and that’s final.“ Rae replies vigorously, tightening her hold on Y/N’s hands.

Despite the state they’re in, Y/N can’t help but take notice of the use of the word ‘we’, Rae’s reminder that they are not alone, that she’s there for them and will not let them go into this alone. That brings a small smile to their face, calming their heart and panic ever so slightly, “N-no, I have to. It...it’ll help me.” They sigh before attempting to express themself again, “It’ll give me...closure, I guess.”

Seeing that Y/N’s doing a bit better, Rae’s hand move to cup their face instead, pushing the stray strands of hair away for their features to be full exposed to her, especially their eyes, “Are you sure you want that? Can you handle it? It’s not supposed to be your obligation, Y/N. I mean, the woman’s a monster and she hasn’t even thought to contact you in half a decade, and now she suddenly wants to get back in contact? She has the audacity to disturb you after all this time? You don’t have to agree to this, Y/N.”

Y/N shakes their head, “No, no, I want to. I want to agree to this. I want to live a normal life, Rae. I want to leave her and all she did to me behind. And I can’t do that if I keep running away. What happens when I stop to catch my breath? It still catches up to me like I made no progress whatsoever. That’s not a way to live, not the way I wanna live, at least.”

Rae nods slowly, fully understanding what Y/N is referring to. She maybe hasn’t said anything about it ever, but she’s always seen that little bit of darkness behind the happiness and excitement Y/N always displayed. Rae’s heart ached every time she caught glimpse of those little signs Y/N was putting on a performance while actually hurting on the inside. 

And if a meeting with their mother was what would help them finally fully embrace a happy life, then who was she to stop them.

“Ok.“ The girl sighs, “Ok, we’ll go see her, but only if you’re 100% sure you’ll be able to handle it.“

They shake their head again, sighing with unease, “I can never be 100% sure, my emotions have a tendency of being unpredictable so I’ll just have to pray I don’t have a breakdown or a panic attack.”

Rae swipes her thumb over their cheekbone wiping the tear that just escaped their eye, “If you do, don’t worry, I’ll be right there. You know the drill: squeeze my hand, take deep breaths and most importantly, don’t forget I’m there for you. Ok?”

Y/N nods their head, the small smile reappearing on their face. They squeeze Rae’s hand and take a long inhale. “Hand squeeze, deep breaths, noted.” They say when their eyes meet hers, “Thank you so much, Rae. Thank you so much for putting up with me and all my shit and thank you so much for never giving up on me no matter how much work I am or how hard dealing with me and my demons becomes.”

Rae’s heart stings at Y/N’s words, tears brimming her eyes when she raises a bit on her knees to press her lips against Y/N’s forehead. “Don’t thank me, angel. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and I never want to get gratitude for it. Love doesn’t ask for gratitude, and neither do I.”

Y/N lets out a small laugh to cover up an emotional sob that escapes their lungs. “I love you, Rae.” They say with a trembling voice.

“I love you too, Y/N.“

This time, the Y/N’s lips met the lips of their girlfriend, reminding themself that their safe haven isn’t a place, it’s a person - their girlfriend who means the world to them.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! Would you happen to have any fic recs that involve John meeting the Holmes family? I always think that's such an interesting dynamic to see! Also, I think this goes without saying but I love your blog and appreciate your contributions to the fandom! Thanks!

Hey Nonny!

Ah, thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my blog!

Oooo! Yes, I love that dynamic too!! ANNNNND!!! You’re giving me the chance to make a part 2 for a REALLY OLD LIST!!! So YAY!!! I found a bunch on a text doc I haven’t posted yet, so HERE WE GO! Hope you enjoy, and as always, everyone please add your own!

PARENTS AND FAMILIES Pt. 2

See also: 

Parents & Family

Meeting the Family With a Fake Relationship

Do You Love Me? by whitchry9 (K, 641 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Family, Epic Bromance) – John asks Sherlock perhaps the most important question.

Once Upon A Time by ProfessorSquirrell (T, 908 w., 1 Ch. || Family, Snippets of Life, Romance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Implied Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending) – There is a room in Sherlock's mind palace where nothing gets deleted. And it looks like this...

Crisis Averted by Spartangal22 (T, 2,188 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Missing Scene After Confronting Mary, Canon Compliant, Sherlock Whump / Mary Shot Sherlock, Family / Friendship, Hospitalization, Sherlock POV, Holmes Brothers) – Lying in the hospital, Sherlock receives some surprising visitors, and manages to deal with two problems he's been having lately. A missing scene from HLV about a formal introduction that was never made and a visit that was never shown.

The Only Available Transportation by blueink3 (T, 5,379 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Sherlock, Caring John, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Birthday, Family, Misunderstandings) – It’s possibly the desperation that’s seeped into his voice despite his best intentions, or perhaps it’s just a mother’s intuition, but she knows that whatever he’s calling about is Serious, hangover be damned. “What’s happened?” she asks, tone soft and as comforting as a hot cup of tea on a cold winter’s night. “Mummy,” he begins, voice catching. “I think John may be moving out.”

On the Steadfast Approach of an Oncoming Darkness by 2bee (T, 7,772 w., 1 Ch. || Apocalypse, Minor Character Death, Sort of Parentlock) – The world is ending. Not fast, but slowly, like falling asleep with a fever.

The Name Game by ItsClydeBitches221B (K, 8,958 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Family, Platonics / Friendship, Sort-of Parentlock, John/Mary, Mary is Nice, Five and Ones, Baby Watson, Mycroft Loves Baby Watson) – The names that baby girl Watson comes up with for her extended family. Or: how everyone—Watsons, Holmes, and others alike— just learned to give up and embrace their weirdness.

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Dropping the Act by jadztone (T, 27,258 w., 10 Ch. || Parentlock, Fake Relationship, Mary’s Family, Post-S4, Cuddling & Snuggling, Bed Sharing, Pining, Christmas) – Sherlock and John are quite happy living together with Rosie in Baker St. They might be even happier if they didn’t act towards each other like their love is only platonic. Mycroft brings troubling news in the form of Mary’s parents wanting to know just what their grandchild’s home life is like. The boys decide to spend Christmas pretending like they are in love in order to seem more like a "normal" family. It's easy enough to pretend when all you're doing is dropping the act.

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31,059 w., 4 Ch. || Vampires AU || Vampire Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Bat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Humour, Magical Realism, Fluff and Angst, Blood Drinking, Holmes Family, Slow Burn) – At Montague Street when Sherlock was forced to sate his body’s needs, he was at least able to wander about the flat as much as he pleased. At Baker Street, it was mini-bags in a mini-fridge and bedroom confinement.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

Where The Ghosts Have Voices by HappyJuicyfruit (M, 37,691 w., 12 Ch. || Supernatural AU || Ghosts, Magical Realism, Light Horror, Fluff and Smut, John Can See Ghosts, John Whump, Emotional Manipulation, Dark Magic, Coma, Injury Recovery, Blow Jobs, Anal, Happy Ending, John’s Past, Mr Holmes, Powerful John, Holmes Brothers, Sherlock’s Past, Past Viclock, Drug Abuse, Hair Pulling) – John has lived his whole life as an outcast. It is only when he meets Sherlock, that be realizes being a freak might not be such a bad thing, and that the curse he has lived with his whole life may be a gift after all. (TO READ)

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[writing-in-april]

Spooks

Raymond Wadsworth X Female Reader

Summary: Raymond starts sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong at the next haunting he’s investigating.

A/N: Hey heyyy- here’s my second fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April 2021!!! I had this spur of the moment idea in the middle of the night and ended up writing a pretty long fic for it (at least long for me lol) I had a lot of fun writing it and really liked the idea- I hope you all enjoy it too! Drop something in my ask box here if you’d like!! I’m always looking for feedback and my requests are open as well! Thanks for reading!!!

Warnings: 18+, Ghosts & poltergeists, Smut, Sub Raymond, Unprotected sex, Sex in a car, Slight cum play

Main Masterlist Word count: 3.2k

Your job description wasn’t an easy one to describe, you could say Mulder and Scully would be the most accurate equivalent. Though as with all tv shows it was portrayed with a set of rose tinted glasses, giving a filter to any realities you faced on the job.

You and your department preferred to call yourselves spooks, truthfully only because the pun was funny. In reality your 8 person department were called agents just like the rest of the FBI, you guys were just more secretive than the others.

Most of the time you ended up getting handed the short straw when getting new cases as you were still the newest on the team, despite being there for several years already. Unlike most professionals in law enforcement you did not have a partner, it only slowed you down. Every place that you were scheduled to decontaminate was an in and out procedure streamlined for effectiveness, adding another body to be hyper vigilant about was a hassle. You operated alone.

Any type of paranormal phenomena that you could think of was thrown in front of you. In your opinion the cases you had the most fun on were the ones that dealt with aliens, though some ghosts could be fun on occasion. The most recent case I had to deal with was a nasty poltergeist, the worst type of ghost. They always wreaked the most havoc on whatever house or place they occupied.

The family in this house had moved out a while ago, the request to decontaminate the home had been sitting on one of your supervisors for a while. It was an old house, built around the late 1800s. Old enough that it had a bunch of unnecessary rooms, like the parlor room that you found yourself trapped in.

And, you weren’t on your own either. Trapped with you was a man with fluffy brown hair flying in any direction, his eyes a darker shade of brown that were filled with fear- yet also curiosity. He was wearing a blue romper, it looked good on him, from what you had seen while you were frantic. But, you highly doubted that it would be effective clothes for a paranormal investigation, maybe he had just stumbled across this place out of curiosity. Either that or he was the type of an inexperienced investigator who had probably had one encounter with a ghost. It did not change that he was cute though.

“I’m a paranormal investigator- uhh technically a supernatural detective! My name’s Raymond! Who are you?!” He sputtered out, ranting probably to try to push aside his fear. You were standing side by side holding the double doors of the entrance to the parlor room, pushing them down to prevent the poltergeist from ramming it down and attacking us.

“Not important!” You snapped back at him, throwing a glare at him. Even if it wasn’t such a tense situation, you weren’t supposed to give away your identity or your job description to just anyone.

With another gasping breath he asked another question, even though you hadn’t answered his first inquiry, “I came with a girl, her name’s Becca- did you see her?”

This one you would bother to answer as he was quite obviously worried about the well being of his companion, “I may have seen her speed away in a red car after she was thrown out of the house. Was that your car she took?”

Not that you really cared all that much, but if he had been stripped of his transportation by his partner you’d have to take him in your own car. Not that you really wanted to, you still would have to help him even though he was seriously hindering your decontamination. “No, I came in my own car.” He answered which made you breathe a sigh of relief, you wouldn’t have to deal with another issue after you escaped, “I don’t blame her honestly, if I could leave I would.”

You were about to answer when your pressure on the doors wasn’t enough, making you both stumble forward. When you stumbled forward your keys, along with your badge, fell out of your pocket. Your badge flipped open front and center to reveal your name, plus the exact agency you worked for in a bold logo.

“You’re an FBI agent?!” You could not confirm or deny what he had asked, you were firmly focused on scrambling to get your things and avoid the ghost that was now throwing furniture at the two of you.

When Raymond finally took notice of the being that was pelting heavy objects around you, a ghostly shape in the form of a woman with a tortured look on her face, he screamed bloody murder. It was not unlike that of a scooby doo cartoon, him obviously resembling Shaggy almost perfectly. If only he had a dog to jump into his arms before he comically zoomed away while remarking “zoinks!”

His frazzled response to the ghosts giving a rather mediocre jump scare made you wonder whether he had the credentials to back up his job title as a paranormal investigator- or as he called it a supernatural detective. You racked your brain to try and recall anytime you had seen a Raymond or a Becca on the long lists of people that were being monitored for potential involvement, coming up with nothing. Well, maybe they were new, as his reaction seemed to indicate.

Your own reaction was stoic as usual, your nerves no longer jumped and your heart no longer quickened to the visage of a ghost trying to spook you. It was in no doubt for some arcane reason probably linked to revenge towards people that no longer existed. One would normally say don’t assume anything about people, that it might offend them to assume, but dead people in your view also had dead opinions- plus relying on precedent was usually a good option when a ghost might be trying to kill you. Despite the absence of fear from you there would be no call out of “Let’s split up gang!” either. It was you mostly not wanting to explain to your employer how you lost a citizen in the middle of this place and- besides that you couldn’t deny that you didn’t want him to die no matter how much undeniable extra trouble he was causing.

“Let’s go.” Your voice was firm, no discernible room for argument or questions.

Raymond somehow found a way to wriggle in to asking yet another question, “Where are we going?”

You yanked his hand out of the room that you think might’ve been a parlor room back in it’s day. You shouldn’t have bothered to answer as it would breed more questions from him, you already gave away too much about who you are and what you do. Any extra questions you answer from him was just creating a bigger breach in your security. Yet you found yourself justifying an answer, his eyes that were probably pulled into an adorable curious look laced with fear bored into the back of your skull as you dragged him out of the room and to the nearest exit. It was only a harmless question, it didn’t even have a satisfying answer, “Anywhere but here!”

Weaving my way through the house that was better characterized as a maze was hard to navigate through. At every turn some sort of iteration of the poltergeist tried to capture us, to pull us into death with it.

The two of us did eventually find the front door, only to find that we could not pull it open, the handle was stuck.

“Step back!” You shouted at Raymond to get him to move out of the way while you prepared to kick the door down. He skittered over to be right behind you, looking over his shoulder in paranoia. You used your right foot to kick the door, using all the leg strength you could muster. After three kicks, the door burst open, letting you both free.

Scurrying quickly to your government given work vehicle, looking back for a second to make sure that Raymond was following you. You couldn’t let a civilian die here, no matter how much of a nuisance he was, and he was cute of course.

Pulling out the last resort from the trunk of your car, gasoline, you then shoved a container of it to your unexpected companion.

“Cover as much of the house as you can!” He made no argument with your plan, running right behind you back up to the house to cover it all in gasoline. Once you had both covered it as much as possible you made sure Raymond was standing back before you lit your lighter and chucked it into the wood wet with the accelerant.

As soon as you could confirm with your eyes that the house had sparked with fire, you grabbed Raymond’s arm again to drag him to your car, not even caring about the one he had come here in. You basically threw yourself into the driver's seat, starting to drive away immediately after Raymond had sat down, before he had even shut the side door.

Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, causing your heart to pound hard enough that it felt like it could burst out of your chest. It was not unusual in your field of work, to feel death brush right by you.

“My car?!” Raymond screamed, his body turned so he was looking out of your back window.

“Sorry no time to go back! The U.S government will reimburse you for that- maybe…” You said quickly, while trying to step harder down on the gas pedal to speed away.

The house behind you was burning so bright from you could hear the crackling from the house turning to ash. You imagined that the flames and smoke were big enough to be seen for miles, considering how much accelerant you poured on it. So much for being subtle, your boss was definitely going to chew you out for that.

When you had gained a sufficient enough distance away from the flames you pulled off into a parking lot adjacent to a park. Pulling into the parking space fast you then hit the brakes hard, jostling you two a bit.

Taking a deep breath you slumped forward to rest your head on your steering wheel, just for a moment of relaxation.

“You know burning it down won’t necessarily get rid of it.” You only grunted in response to his matter of fact statement. Your lack of response seemed to make him even more anxious, tapping his fingers on any surface that was around him to preoccupy his mind while you took your breather. He tried to fill the silence that was making him uncomfortable, “So what do you actually do?”

You sighed deeply against the steering wheel one last time, then leaning off of it to sit back in the seat. You decided that you might as well give him a small morsel of information that may satiate his curiosity, “That’s highly classified, but you could probably figure it out.”

His insistence to bring up what your job is was making your insides twist with anxiety. You were already dreading what would happen when you got back to the office. It would be a lot of paperwork to explain everything that happened, plus you’d have to submit an application on behalf of Raymond to get his car reimbursed.

The adrenaline that had spiked in your veins born out of fear was still present. It was overwhelming, and you felt the need to use it for something different than wallowing in your fear.

You redirected your gaze to fixate on Raymond, who could surely help you redirect your adrenaline. He was an attractive man, who’s personality did help make him even more desirable. Even though he was a pain in your ass, he was a cute and funny one.

His own eyes were fixated on yours as well, with a different look than what you had seen earlier. His eyes were deepened with lust, not fear, though there was still an ounce of curiosity in them- probably still wondering who exactly I was.

Grabbing the hairs at the back of his neck you then pulled him forward to crush your lips onto his. He reciprocated immediately, though did not try to challenge your dominance over the kiss. He let you slip your tongue into his mouth, exploring him with diligence.

You wanted him closer to you, feeling every inch of him. So you swung your legs over his lap as best you could with the space you had to straddle him. When you did so you barely let his lips come off your own, too greedy to let them separate from yours.

A thought however was nagging you in the back of your head as you continued to melt yourself into the kiss, he had mentioned a companion that he had been worried about earlier. You did not want to step on any toes, nor endorse any type of cheating. You separated your lips from his own, even though you wanted nothing more than to envelop him in another kiss.

“This ok with you?” Your words were said right into his lips, mingling your breath with his, “You’re not with that Becca girl are you?”

“Not anymore- and yes I’m totally ok with this.” He confirmed before surging up to meet his lips with your own again. You wasted no time in starting to grind your hips onto his cock that was swiftly growing underneath his shorts. Just from grinding you could feel how large he was, even through a couple of layers.

He moved his hands to the button of your pants when you moved your lips to start nipping and sucking on his neck and jaw. You tried to kick off the articles of clothing on your lower half, panties included, without removing your lips from him. Unfortunately you had to do so because of the amount of space. You cursed under your breath, wishing that the government had paid to give you a larger vehicle.

You were already slick with arousal, also aided by sticking your fingers into his mouth to get them sufficiently wet. He bobbed his head up and down on them eagerly until you were satisfied. Removing them from his mouth you ran them up and down along your slit, getting you even more wet.

You guided his length to your entrance, not sinking down immediately. You undulated your hips so his length was coated with your arousal as well. When he bucked his hips in impatience you just pushed them down back into the seat. Then you leaned down to whisper into the shell of his ear to be patient- he’d get what he wanted.

“Fuck me.” Was all Raymond could muster up to whimper when you sunk down onto his cock, his head falling back to hit the headrest. You wasted no time in starting a fast pace, bouncing up and down on him with vigor. Raymond grabbed onto your hips when he couldn’t find anything else to hold onto, digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

His large cock bumped up against your cervix in the most pleasurable way possible as you swivel your hips over him. Your own head tilted back, your mouth opened wide to let out a loud moan when his cock hit a particularly pleasurable spot inside you. You also felt the need to hold onto something as your release began to build inside you, getting ready to snap. So you grabbed onto the best thing you could find, running your hands through his hair and pulling on his strands.

One of his hands then moved to toy with your clit,his movements were a bit fumbled, but it swiftly made your orgasm start to crest. You were almost disappointed about how quickly this was going to be over, you however couldn’t deny that it felt amazing even with the frantic pace. In the back of your mind you couldn’t help but imagine all the other things you could do to Raymond if you were given the chance.

You fell apart above him, your eyes rolling back into your head. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, and it felt good to have it redirected to a pleasurable experience instead of fear. You kept yourself impaled on his cock for a bit after your orgasm had finished, relishing at the feeling of him inside you.

Slipping out of him was a little bit awkward because of how cramped the space was. Once his cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of him inside of you, you wrapped your hand around his length. You started to pump him slowly in your hands, taking your time compared to earlier. Your adrenaline had abated a bit and now you wanted to see how long you could drag this out, in case you never got the chance to again.

However, It still didn’t take much movement from your hands for him to get close, he was already close to the edge from being inside you. His hips bucked up into your hands a bit before he begged, “C-can you put- your hands- around my throat?”

“Should’ve known you’d be into that.” You snarked back a bit in response to his plea. Your tone had no sympathy for him, making him obviously think that you weren’t going to oblige him by the look in his eyes. That look of pure desperation in his eyes, with his kiss swollen lips, and his curls disheveled made you buckle. He groaned loudly when you put your free hand around his neck. You only applied a small amount of pressure, but that was all Raymond needed for him to cum all over your hand.

Once you had helped him ride out his own orgasm you removed your hand from his neck and his cock. You did need to clean up the hand that was covered in his thick ropes of cum, so you brought it up to your mouth to lick it clean.

“Fuck me…” Echoing his previous words, this time with an even bigger whimper. After you had cleaned yourself and him up enough to be decent you flung yourself back to sit in the driver’s seat again.

Raymond was silent for a minute, which seemed odd if you were going off of what little experience you had with him so far. Though maybe he was still going through his post orgasm relaxation just as you were. He then broke the silence, by asking the same question again, even though you had wanted to answer it just about 30 minutes ago. You’d bet money on the reason that he kept asking, being that each time that you answered you gave him a small hint, “Will you tell me now what you actually do?”

“Maybe- if you get to know me better.” You turned the key to start the engine again then asking with another hint as to what your job was, “Consider this your lucky day, you’ve got a spook as your chauffeur. Now, where next Raymond?”

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

[scribblingfangirl]

WITH LOVE, THE GOSTS | Julie and The Phantoms - Part Three

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Author’s Note: I decided that this fic trilogy occurs a year after the season one final, making Julie and Y/N almost (or already) 17. Also… this part turned out waaay longer than expected. Which is why there is going to be a fourth part because I have one last idea but didn’t want to rush to write it. And to think this all started because of a rushed (haha) 1k Oneshot. I should really start to write more spontaneously, it seems like good things come out of it. Anyway, Enjoy! :D

Songs mentioned in this chapter (in this order): Now or Never & Wake Up by JaTP | Don't Stop Me Now by Queen | Rude by MAGIC! | Don’t Laugh At Me by Mark Wills | Don’t You Worry ’Bout a Thing by Tori Kelly | Still Learning by Halsey | Ayo Technology by 50 Cent | My version of My Name Is Luke by Trevor Wilson | Let’s Forget About It by Lisa Loeb | Let's Just Get Naked Lyrics by Joan Osborne | Hey by Pixies

word count: ~ 3.9k

summary: Even after meeting the boys they still aren’t tired of helping you out and they each have their own little ways to do it.

warnings:  // (english is not my first language, not beta-read)

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Knowing that ghosts existed was an absurd feeling (even though you had always believed or hoped that there was more out there than just this world, especially with all those planets that had been discovered by NASA), but knowing that there were three certain ghosts that liked you enough to kindly haunt you, well… that was just plain unimaginable somehow. Yet, still less anxiety awakening than you expected. 

After Julie let you meet the guys for the first time you thought you were prepared to accept that you would not be able to talk to them unless they played something (after all, you had Flynn to groan about that), but the occasional giggle from Julie and her glances into nothing still sent chills down your spine.

So you started to always look around very suspiciously whenever you were over at her house and make obscene hand movements just to be sure that the boys would move before you walked somewhere or sat down (which just earned chuckles from Flynn and annoyed sighs from Julie - “Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see you. They know where you are, so please stop, or else my dad will call your parents and send you to Dr Turner as well.” The boys found it hilarious and liked to imitate you whenever they came too close to you.) 

The boys also still kept doing little things for you, just not so in secret anymore (though… Reggie was never one for subtlety). Whenever you seemed to have had a bad day (or whenever they just wanted to make you smile) you knew you could count on them having something prepared for you. 

You soon discovered that anything related to food (which sometimes were extremely odd and bizarre combinations) was Luke’s doing (except for pizza and meatballs, according to Julie that was always Reggie). And you knew it was Alex whenever it was something more calm and soothing, yet sometimes a little bit clumsy. And whenever it was blatantly obvious and/or slightly weird (in a good way!) it was Reggie. 

Well, no. Not always in a good way. One time you came back from school and your whole room was filled with glitter and butterflies and a small note with a little ‘Sorry!’ on it was pinned to your desk - cleaning that had been a pain in the a-. But you couldn’t be angry at Reggie, even though you weren’t quite sure what his ultimate goal would have been. 

Speaking of REGGIE...

All those helpful little deeds and nice gestures were always done within the limits of your house (mostly room) or Julie’s house and the studio, which is why you almost let out a loud yelp when suddenly during a math test your pen started to move on his own, filling out the empty space (because yes, you hadn’t been doing very much other than staring helplessly at the paper in front of you). Quickly you grabbed the pen as well (loosely and while trying to ignore the fact that you were practically holding hands with one of the guys) so that nobody would see a floating pen as you did a few weeks ago at Christmas.

From the corners of your eyes, you saw Julie slightly move her head towards you, as if she was listening to you - or rather someone right beside or behind you. ‘Of course. I can’t see them, so the only way to help me is by physically grabbing the pen, but Julie can hear and see them, so they (whoever this is - because let’s be honest, none of the guys really looks like a math genius) only have to tell her the corrects solutions and how to get there. My money’s on Alex.’

You were kind of shocked, and weirdly proud when Julie came up to you after class and said: “Reggie’s not so questionable after all, huh?” (Though… you should’ve guessed it, you did say subtlety wasn’t Reggie’s strong suit.) So you just giggled and shook your head while leaving some of your books in your locker (alongside the fact that Reggie was probably almost (if not!) hugging you from behind - you shuddered at that thought, it’s not like you were already awkward around living boys your age, no need to add ghosts to that list!)

A week later you and Julie entered the studio with blank faces and hanging shoulders. Julie threw a weak little wave towards the piano and sighed while you threw the blankets and snacks you were holding carelessly on the ground and let yourself fall face-first onto the couch, not being able to hide your smile anymore.

“We got our math exams back… yes the one Reggie helped us with.”

You couldn’t see what Julie was doing, but you heard her gasp and whisper “No! Reggie…” after a while. Then she was standing beside you, nudging your shoulder and willing you to sit up, but you didn’t bulge, needing a few more seconds to wipe the smile off your face again.

Faking to disgruntledly accept defeat as Julie’s nudges got stronger (the couch was really comfortable, you totally understood Luke now) you sat up and looked at Julie. “Who’s going to tell them?” you said with a heavy voice and felt how the couch dipped beside you. Raising your eyebrows you quickly glanced to the side (obviously not seeing anybody or anything) and looked back at Julie questioningly. 

She nodded, telling you that it was indeed Reggie and gave you the okay to drop the bomb.

You sighed as you turned back around, facing the wall on the other side of the studio and hoped that Reggie would ignore the fact that you were probably talking to his ear or something. “So Reggie… the help you gave us on the math final? Well…,” you couldn’t keep your face straight any longer and jumped onto the couch, “WE ACED IT! I WOULD HUG YOU IF YOU WEREN’T MADE OUT OF CUTE AIR!” (Okay… maybe there was a little bit too much serotonin involved.)

Julie added smiling, “And I’m happy to announce that due to my good grades my father allowed Julie and The Phantoms to play at the upcoming Summer Music Festival!”

A guitar riff filled the studio, followed by a short drum intro and with a ‘puff!’ the boys appeared in front of you, beaming and glowing at the news. Reggie even threw a wink at you when you smiled back and said: “Thank you!”

Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never!

This allowed LUKE…

The music festival was an experience you would never forget. You were very happy Ray managed to persuade your parents to let you accompany Julie (sadly Flynn had no such luck). Not only did you turn 17 and the boys made sure to have the whole crowd sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you (as soon as you were back home you would add an extra point to your to-do: ‘find out how to kill ghosts a second time’), but the boys rocked the stage and Julie stood up taller and shined brighter than ever before. 

Gone (yet not forgotten) were the painful shocks and the fear of never performing again and the serenity of the guys was visible. 

It was the last night of the music festival when Julie got the phone call from her father. He would come by to get her the next morning and they would drive directly to visit other family members and spend the rest of the summer holidays there. 

Of course, Julie was excited to see her cousins and aunts and uncles again, but she also felt bad to leave you to drive back alone (you had come with your car jam-packed with all the necessary equipment you needed and that wasn’t provided by the festival).

“Don’t worry! It’s only a four-hour drive! I’ve got good music, podcasts and audiobooks to keep me company and back home Flynn will be waiting. It sadly looks like I’m going to survive without you.” 

Early the next morning Julie and some newfound fans of Julie and The Phantoms helped you load the equipment into your car and you said goodbye to Julie. Expecting the boys to just directly puff back to Los Feliz you didn’t waste any time and entered your car, connected your phone with the stereo and started to blast your favourite Broadway musicals.

You must’ve been on the road for half an hour when suddenly the playlist stopped and ‘Wake Up’ started to play.

So wake that spirit, spirit!

Confused you scrunched up your nose and touched the touch screen displaying the music system, trying to change it back to your playlist. But instead, the music changed yet again.

(Don't stop me now) 'Cause I'm having a good time (Don't stop me now) Yes, I'm havin' a good time I don't want to stop at all

“What the hell?” you muttered, staring at your stereo for a quick second before focusing back on the road, “Why you always going crazy on me dude?”

Once again the music switched.

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?

It took you a hot minute to understand what was going on and then you couldn’t stop laughing. 

Don't laugh at me, don't call me names Don't get your pleasure from my pain

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said mockingly, looking at the empty passenger seat, guessing that that’s where your invisible friend was sitting. “Your pain? I’m not the one who is able to puff wherever and whenever their heart desires and who sneaks up on innocent people.”

Silence. 

“For what it’s worth. I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not like you choose this life, you deserved better than this. But I’m really glad I was able to get to know you. I’m really thankful for the light and happiness you brought back into Julie’s life.”

Don't you worry 'bout a thing

But I'm still learnin' to

using technology

You laughed. “Impressive skills nevertheless. Knowing three fitting songs and then changing them at the right time? Let me guess, Luke? Because I don’t think all of you three would fit into my tiny car full of musical equipment.”

At first, there was no music yet again, but then the slow melody of a (for you) well-known song flooded your car. It was the one Trevor Wilson song you never understood until you met the boys, the one song that was so totally different to his usual rock sound (except for the refrains, which, as you later would find out, were parts of the original lyrics Luke wrote for his version of the song).

I sing to remember the stories that used to be But I don’t write to create what could have been And as I scream words into the darkness around me They come out like a dying whisper

The kindest thing to do is to silence them and let them die To unleash my heartfelt sorrow into the sky  And diminish the will to fight That pulses like fire and screams with pain through my veins

But life’s not always beautiful, it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down  He is here to stay

Don’t call him a breeze when he’s a hurricane Don’t call him a tremble when he’s an earthquake Don’t call him an inconvenience Please just say his name

Leaving lyrics in my hands That I swallow like pills Like hurtful words, they rip and claw And press painfully against my chest

But no matter how painful they are I will soak them up, thinking of our hopes and wishes And as each word pushes a new pulse through my veins I keep staring out on the grave of our shared space of mind

Life’s not always beautiful, but it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down  He is here to stay

Don’t call him a spark when he’s a lightning bolt Don’t call him a flicker when he’s a raging flame Don’t you dare to underestimate him Please just say his name

But even when the word flood finally comes to an end Fidgeting hands remind me of music never played

I owe him my voice I owe him my sound

So I give him this time I give him this space To sing it out loud To let him declare And let me be proud

What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!)

How long do we say his name? (Until we explode!)

My name is Luke! (Tell your friends!)

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, the song now more emotional than ever before. You couldn’t imagine how this song must affect Luke. Thinking that his bandmate abandoned him (which honestly… he kind of did, only mentioning him in one song, not giving any money to their parents and so on) up until he heard the song for the first time.

“Luke…”

Forget about it Let's forget about it

The ensuing silence wasn’t awkward. You hummed along to the music Luke selected, sometimes it were old classics (probably his favourites), other times it seemed to be random newer hits he probably never heard before mixed with some songs from your favourite playlists.

It was nearing midday and your stomach made itself known. As if on cue a road sign hinted at a diner just up ahead. Setting the blinker you pulled into the parking lot a few moments later.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know home’s only like an hour away, but...” you began to trail off, not knowing where to look at and your stomach finished your sentence. And before you were able to grab the door handle it sprung wide open. 

“Uh, what a gentleman. Thank you very much.”

The meal was over in a flash and once more you realised how much the boys actually knew about you without having actually interacted with you (perks of seeing other people without being seen themselves?). 

It’s like Luke could read your wishes just from your facial expressions. Whenever you needed salt or pepper they were right there. Whenever something was too salty or had too much pepper on your drink was being pushed closer to your side. And when you accidentally spilt something and needed more napkins they magically appeared.

When you then spotted a cute little guitar keychain that reminded you of Luke that was being sold as a souvenir at the check-out it was suddenly safely tucked into your back pocket (though that was really really risky, and while you did not condone it you couldn’t really stop a ghost).

Back in your car, you didn’t even bother to turn on the stereo, knowing that Luke would take over as soon as your hands were on the steering wheel again. 

However, a glance to your right presented you with a map of your surroundings, a big x hastily drawn over the Silverwood Lake in San Bernardino, which was basically just around the corner.

“You want to go swimming? We- I just ate! And my bathing suit is somewhere under that mountain of equipment on the backseat.”

Let's just get naked, just for a laugh Let's just get naked It's a trip and a half

You laughed at that, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, before stowing the map away and turning on the car. “I guess catching Reggie in the shower isn’t enough anymore?”

Hey!

“You started making it weird buddy.”

It had started to rain when you finally pulled up in your driveway, but you couldn’t be bothered to rush inside, enjoying the feeling of the cooling wetness on your skin.

“Look at that,” you said to nobody in particular, not knowing if Luke was still around or if he puffed back to the garage, “I didn’t even need to go swimming after all.”

He was. Sitting in the passenger seat, face on his arms while he leaned on the open car window, he watched you dance in the rain with a smile on his face. He was glad he decided to stick around and keep you company on that road trip. You gave him the courage to listen to My Name Is Luke for the first time (and getting to see you smile while showing off his impressive music knowledge was a bonus too). Because without knowing, you were doing little deeds for the boys too.

And made ALEX…

Whoever wrote that “Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain”-quote totally forgot to mention how dangerous small summer storms can be. 

Well sure, it might have been your fault for staying out for too long and deciding to let the sun that came out a little bit later dry you instead of changing into fresh and dry clothes, but whatever happened happened and you got sick. (It’s not like you had anything better to do during the last few days of your summer holidays, right?) 

Flynn had been a great friend and hung out almost daily at your house, playing board games, watching movies or tv or even just discussing upcoming Julie and The Phantoms possibilities with you. But your dearest little helper had been Alex.

The blond drummer had turned into the tall brother you never had but always wanted (focus on tall because the age thing with ghosts is seriously confusing) even if he was invisible to you 100% of the time. You had the same interests and were able to bond without actually having to say any words, little gestures and reciprocations on your side were more than enough.

Julie had come up with an easy solution and had bought you some of those sound buzzers (like the ones that dogs and cats use to communicate with their owners) and recorded some simple words and phrases the boys liked to use on them. Now the boys just had to press them to be able to communicate with you without having to use pen and paper or Julie herself (sure your parents were a little bit weary and confused, but you said it was for a longer school research project and that shut them up).

Now, feeling way better than during the last few days, but still very tired, you were sitting in your bed, not really focused on the tv show (or was it a movie?) that was playing on your computer. You had been contemplating and mentally preparing yourself to get something to eat and to drink for the past 15 minutes, but the thoughts alone were exhausting and binding you to the bed. Just then a tray with a water bottle, meds and a fruit bowl floated into your room. 

Suddenly wide awake and full of energy you clumsily jumped out of your bed and grabbed the tray, throwing a quick glance out of the door to see if your parents were around and slammed the door shut, wincing at the loud sound and hoping that Alex had walked out of the way (not that it would have hurt him, but you know - rude).

“Rude.” 

See? He thought the same. (Julie had to specifically add this word for Alex.) 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I would like not to get murdered or have Sam and Dean Winchester on my back because my parents think I’m possessed and need to be exorcised.”

“Me.”

“You what?”

“Me.”

“Alex… I need more context.”

“I do. Me.”

You just blinked blankly at the sound buzzers, trying to piece together what Alex was trying to say.

“Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. M-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH Y/N! WHATEVER THAT SCHOOL PROJECT IS, TELL IT I HEARD IT AND I DON’T CARE WHAT IT WANTS!” you heard your father's scream come muffled through the door.

The audience laughter from sitcoms filled your room and you groaned, grabbing a pillow and smashing it against your face.

Faintly you heard the telltale sound of a pen scribbling something on paper and when you peeked from behind the pillow a note was floating in the air in front of you. “You mean exorcise ME! You would be the one surviving!” 

“What? Oh my god… yeah okay, YOU get exorcised… same thing. Both aren’t allowed to happen. Forgive my fever brain.”

“No.”

“Fork you, Alex.”

“No.”

“I have Carlos on speed-dial, I’m sure he already came up with other methods to get rid of ghosts other than the salt thing. He already told me that he’s sorry and that he thinks I might get haunted by you too with the amount of time I spend at their house.” 

“No. Food.”

Confused at that topic change it took you a few seconds to answer. “What?” Looking around your gaze landed on the tray that you had deposited on your desk. “Oh right! Boy, I completely forgot how thirsty and hungry I am. Did I say thank you? Fang u!” you mumbled with your mouth full of fruit. 

“No. Food.”

You swallowed down your food and took a big gulp of water. “Yes Alex, thank you. I am eating. You see? Here I am, here’s the food. The food is here and now whoops - ifs gan!”

You could basically feel the annoyance radiating from the ghost and weren’t really shocked when the pen started to scribble something down again.

“No! Argh!” He really wrote Argh… that dork really wrote Argh! “You can be worse than Reggie sometimes, but you do it on purpose and I’m just sorry for Reggie. A) Carlos thinks he got rid of us by making a french dip and B) You’re awfully lively for a supposedly sick person. I might need to use the buzzers more and see what other reactions I can provoke from your parents.”

Crumbling the note in your hands you thought ‘Challenge accepted’. “You know what? I think I’mma go back on Reggie’s offer and actually let him introduce me to Wilbur. He might know some stuff I could use to blackmail you. And you’re right! I feel much better, just very tired, but that’s nothing a little bit of fresh air can’t fix! Toodles!” 

You left your room, leaving a flabbergasted ghost behind who had lost his snapback with the number of times he had been combing through his hair with his hands. And while angrily pressing a pink buzzer, the buzzer wasn't the only thing that screamed “WILLIAM!” after the girl. (That was another important sound Alex wanted to have recorded.)

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Taglist: @sunsetcurvej​​ @ifilwtmfc​

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

There are nearly FORTY THOUSAND AO3 stories in the MDZS universe, and I am just a single person with limited time, so....  Here’s a bit of y’all doing my work for me!

~*~

Mojo, I know it'd probably be recced before, but I have to recommend stiltonbasket's Twelve Moons and a Fortnight. It has made me squee of cuteness, hold my breath with suspense, marvel over the worldbuilding and character interactions, and just awed me at how well every original piece of lore and HC ties back to canon. I cried over it, only to cry laughing the next chapter. it kept me going through an entire year of lockdown and is finally coming to an end, and the resolution was magnificent.

*[I’m subscribed to this and keep waiting for Part One to be completed, but instead later parts keep getting posted:  is it completed but not marked?  I am confused.  And eager to read!]*

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight

by stiltonbasket (G, 267k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  "Let me get this straight. You really want me to stand in for you while you help Jin Ling settle in at Koi Tower?"

"Who else do I have?" Jiang Cheng snaps, ears turning scarlet as Jin Ling tries to pretend he isn't listening. "Father trained you to serve as my deputy, didn't he? And don't say you don't remember, or I'll break your legs."

"Well, yes," Wei Wuxian manages. "Uh. I'll just let Lan Zhan know I'll be at Lotus Pier until you're back at home, then."

Or, the one where Wei Wuxian spends the year before his wedding as Yunmeng Jiang's acting sect leader, and the cultivation world's greatest love story finds its happy ending with the help of three juniors, a teenage romance, and one very involved (and exasperated) younger brother.

~*~

May I recommend fielty by milkpunch a sort of AU where lwj in order to save his sect from being destroyed by nine after wen rouhans assasination goes to work as a guard to Jin zixuan where he meets wwx the right hand of Jin guanguao... ~ @pastashouldbeeatenwithafork

Fealty

by milkpunch (E, 84k, wangxian)

Summary:  Before, there had been two reigning kingdoms. Both claimed to be blessed by the sun, but with vastly differing views. One, under the name of Wen, was washed red with blood and violence, its soldiers fierce and stoked with a fiery blaze. The other, under the name of Jin, was bathed in golden light and glory, its soldiers proud and heavy with coin and prestige. The two kingdoms went to war for the true honour of having the sun’s blessing, fighting for many long years with many lives lost.

Jin Guangshan, emperor of the Golden Sun Palace, found that the sun favoured him more.

To prevent his kingdom from being crushed, Lan Zhan, second heir to the Lan kingdom, exchanges his freedom for that of servitude to the Jin kingdom. He is appointed as Jin Zixuan's personal guard, but there's more on his plate than just keeping the Jin heir safe. The Golden Sun Palace is not all that it seems, and the dazzling lives of the royals are less perfect than they appear.

~*~

Hey, I was wondering if I could rec a fic to you. My bestie wrote it for the Lunar New Year Wangxian gift exchange and it definitely did not receive the attention it deserves. It's a really fun mermaid/arranged marriage au! ~ @leahlisabeth

More Than This Provincial Wife

by ApprenticedMagician (T, 6k, wangxian)

Summary:  The negotiations surrounding the Lan & Jiang alliance through marriage encountered a few snags in the beginning.

~*~

I love your blog! I saw a recent post where you listed some rec's from other people? [Thank you!  And yes, I always appreciate and am happy to share your recs!]  I just read the WIP A Corpse Called By Name jaemyun and LOVED it! It's a zombie apocolypse AU, where Wei Ying gets bitten by a zombie.... and I don't want to spoil anything from there, but it is amazing! No pressure to put it in your blog, but wanted to send a note just in case. Thanks for all you do!

A Corpse Called By Name

by jaemyun (not rated, 37k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  A continuation of zombie drabble!

She loses her brother in a hoard of the undead.

She finds a corpse wearing his face in a convenience store.

The corpse calls her name.

~*~

Hi! I was wondering if I could rec this short fic that I recently found and really liked! The narrative is an inner monologue and I think it captures lwj really well :)

binding me in spells (till my heart's devoured)

by gaysgaysgays (G, <1k, wangxian)

Summary:  His scars are a reminder of his hurt, a reminder that he had healed.

(or a study of lan zhan's scars)

~*~

I found a fic I had recently asked you about, so I thought I'd share it with you: Seasons of Falling Flowers by merakily (http://archiveofourown.org/works/28522326). I rediscovered it completely by accident after listening to spinifex's excellent podfic adaptation. This is the fic where Lan Qiren despises Wei Wuxian until Wei Wuxian catches a cold and Lan Qiren find out about his golden core. That part is about 3/4 of the way through. The fic is wonderful and shows a rigid but surprisingly introspective Lan Qiren. ~ @clmoryel [Oh!  I just read this one yesterday!  Here’s my bookmark.]

Seasons of Falling Flowers

by merakily (G, 40k, wangxian, lan qiren & wei wuxian, podfic)

Summary:  Like a parasite, Wei Wuxian has this way of growing on people when you least expect it.

Over the seasons, Lan Qiren slowly pieces back together his relationship with Wangji and learns to like Wei Wuxian in the process.

(“Will you rejoin your sect?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Lan Qiren regrets his wording.

He is not surprised when Wangji’s eyes narrow, flashing with offence. “There is no need to rejoin what one has never left. I did not turn my back on my sect. My sect turned their backs on me.”)

~*~

Hi! Can I rec a fic? "bring you home" by Alasse_Irena on AO3 is a modern AU and is one of the most beautiful and atmospheric fics I have read. Thanks for you work running this blog! I have new Wangxian fics to read <3

bring you home

by Alasse_Irena (T, 28k, wangxian)

Summary:  Wei Ying rents a run-down cottage in a small town by the sea, looking for a quiet place to hide after the war.

Lan Zhan has always dreamed of the ocean. He returns to the town where he was born, and where his parents died, to find out why.

Instead, they find each other.

~*~

Good morning lady mojo, I hope you’re having a good day! I wanted to rec a fic, Breathing Firestorm by ladyshadowdrake. It’s 111k and great but barely has any love, which is unfair. You mentioned it in the last ‘in a mood for’ post but I think it should have more of a shoutout because it’s a lot of fun and I liked it a lot. Have a great day ♥️  [Oh!  I was subscribed to this one and saw it had been recently finished.  It’s def. on my list!]

Breathing Firestorm

by ladyshadowdrake (M, 111k, wangxian)

Summary:  After years of a mad quest, Wen Ruohan is finally given proof of a powerful creature living among mortals. He is delighted to find that it truly believes itself to be only a boy named “Wei Wuxian.”

While Wen Ruohan tries to unlock Wei Wuxian’s secret, the sects unite against him. If he can achieve his goal before they arrive, even the combined might of the cultivation world would not be enough to humble him. Meanwhile, Lan Wangji dreams of Wei Wuxian in the Cold Pond Cave, and works tirelessly to rescue him from Wen Ruohan’s clutches. No one is prepared for what awaits the allied sects in Nightless City at the conclusion of the war, and it very well might mean the end of the world as they know it.

~*~

Hi Mojo, firstly thank you for all the hard work you put into running this blog, I’ve found so many fics that I probably would have never come across if it wasn’t for your fic finders posts and your personal review posts.  [Aw, thank you!]

I don’t know if you’ve read this fic before or if it’s been mentioned before on your blog (I’ve done a quick search of your blog and couldn’t see it, so if I’ve missed it I apologise!) but if you’ve got a fic rec post coming up, I would suggest “The shapes a bright container can contain” by litbynosun.

It’s a case fic about 16k words long and set after canon. Whilst it’s not the main focus of the story it does delve slightly into chronic illness of wwx (the ailments of mxy’s body) and lwj (his continuous treatment of his scars) which might cover a few requests in the IITMF posts in future.

Thanks again for all the hard work you do! ~ @dulachodladh

the shapes a bright container can contain

by litbynosun

M, 17k, wangxian

Summary:  "Lan Zhan, look at this," Wei Wuxian calls. "They don't have organs, but they're all… fuzzy."

He gently strokes the corpse's arm -- it's covered in soft, pigmentless downy hair, like a rabbit. Lan Wangji crouches next to him and nods. "Lanugo," he says. Wei Wuxian raises one eyebrow. "They were malnourished for quite a while before death," Lan Wangji elaborates. Wei Wuxian scans the bodies again. Indeed, they both have sunken cheeks, and their abdomens are empty of both organs and fat padding. “That’s a question,” he says. “Did they starve to death, and have their bodies desecrated after they were already deceased? Or were they murdered, and simply starving at the same time?” "We should stay," Lan Wangji tells him. This is not an answer to his question. It is an offer to search for answers.

Or: Wei Wuxian and his family solve a ghost haunting. Wei Wuxain's old enemy, societal injustice, rears its head again.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Too late | Dazai x reader |

Too late | Mafia Dazai / dazai x fem!reader |

( A very shitty attempt at a song-fic. )

Warnings- toxic relationship (minor mentions of abuse?), death

A brunette sat on the cement. The tan folds of his coat fluttering out behind him. The wind brushed his hair from his face, it stung his eyes and brushed his skin with bitter cold air. His fingers dripped the brightest shade of crimson. His eyes had dilated and shook with shock and fear. The skin his hands desperately held, already losing its warmth. Lips stained the color, as well as the outfit that resembled his own. Those blood-stained lips coughed final words before letting go. How, how had this happened? Why had he never predicted this? Why would you ever do this?

He knew those answers like he knew his own crimes. After all, how could he forget? He’d been the reason you fell, he’d only denied it for years.

The sun fell softly along the stone. A boy, no older than 15, walked along the stone edge of a bridge. His brown locks flying within the wind whilst he adjusted the bandage over his left eye. He paid no mind to you, even as you walked behind him. Your feet carried you on the safer ground, next to the edge. It was common to find the two of them like this. You were always with him, whenever you could be at least. He never seemed to notice you were there; You didn’t mind it though. The rare moments where he did suddenly ask you questions were enough. Rushing to close the distance between you and him, you caught a glance of his eyes darted to the side. He was looking at you, the single eye that showed seemed puzzled, before he parted his lips to talk to you; His arms opened at the same time. Skipping around steps, he smiled, “Hey, why are you still following me, woman? Don’t you have a better hobby than stalking me?” so he did notice you at times.

Flustered you froze before chuckling with a light hum. “No, not really Dazai-san. I think you're interesting! You're the only one I can't read.” you were referring to your ability. It wasn’t much, so you weren't too high up in the ranks. You could read thoughts, see their feelings in the form of aura, and manipulate that aura. So far, you could make people freeze up and lose themself in an overdose of emotions. Also known as individual illusions created by their auras; things only they could see. It was hard to believe you were even in the mafia. Your bubbly appearance and lack of interest in killing made you look harmless. You never killed, but when you worked with another they sure had an opening to kill.

Dazai leaned down so he leveled with you. “I wonder, have you ever thought of using that ability to induce such outrageous depression, one acts on it?” blushing you took several steps back shaking your head.

“N-no, sir! I d-don’t think I could do that. Well, if Dazai-san really wanted me to, I-I could try it for him!” What were you saying? Knowing this demon prodigy, you’d probably end up not meeting the expectation and ending up punished. Though, would that be so bad?

He puffed his cheeks out, jumping from the edge to land in front of you. With a half-smile, he flicked your forehead. “You keep doing the opposite of what I predict. I really can’t get a read on you.” turning away you covered your face.

“I-is that a compliment?” you mumbled, looking through your fingers. He shrugged, jumping back to the ledge. His eyes lost their glimmer as he looked down. He seemed to be judging the distance; With a heavy sigh, he looked back to the sky.

“If only this was a little higher. I think falling into the water and dying right away, without the pain of falling to the ground, would be okay. I’d drown unconscious, how peaceful that would be.” you didn’t respond as he turned and began walking again.

~

Year after year you walked by his side, growing with him. Slowly that bubbly gaze began to fade ever so slightly. The fun-filled times like the day on the bridge no longer existed.

My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost

Standing next to the demon prodigy you stretched out your hand with a sigh. “Ability: vortex of emotions.” from the shadows you worked alongside him. The enemy's hands reached their head. A perching scream echoing as they turned their gun to themselves. Looking to the side your eyes met the brunettes; They were colder than they were a year ago. Sighing, he raised his pistol and shot. He pushed past you, and you followed numbly.

I need to feel something, 'cause I'm still so far from home

Entering the box he called his home, his hands grabbed your waist pulling you towards him. His fingers lifting your chin. The flutter of your heart pounded against your chest, the closer his face came to yours. “You really should stop following me everywhere. If you won’t at least try to kill.”

Cross your heart and hope to die. Promise me you'll never leave my side

Nodding as he released you, he sat at his desk. “Mori won’t be happy that we clocked out so early.” he leaned back groaning. “Found a new suicide method? I don’t want to deal with his annoying voice tomorrow!” his older persona slipped through. The light in his eyes spread before it disappeared with your silence. Yet despite that, there was a caring hint to his posture. The way his hands moved softly, how he traced your bow. How he exhaled with a sigh when you closed the door

Show me what I can't see when the spark in your eyes is gone

~

Another year went by with a soft ease. You stood in Mori's office, a blank expression on your face. You were sure you were dead. Messing up like this, letting somebody get away. You were shaking, unsure why your breaths still rang. The doors opened to the brunette mafioso. Dressed in all black, a short ginger walked at his side. The way your emotions suddenly changed was unnoticed by everybody but Dazai. His eyes set in glares as you looked away. Your heart raced, why was it you still felt like this? He treated you as a pawn, yet you still ached to kiss him. Mori blamed your failure on Dazai’s lack of discipline with you. “I’ve been more than lenient with how she follows you around. If this happens again, it will be you who pays the price Dazai.'' Why did this have to happen in front of the ginger? His eyes looked at you with sympathy. It was weird to see such a thing. Dazai rolled his eyes stepping closer to the ginger as his eyes darted to you. Puffing your cheeks out you looked away.

Once you were in his office, he practically pulled you by the ear. Pushing you to the floor with his frustration. “I don’t understand why I keep you around! All you seem to do is put me in situations that bore me to death!”

You've got me on my knees I'm your one man cult

You looked up with begging eyes. “Please, I’m sorry Dazai-san! Please forgive me! I’ll do better! Please don’t leave me.” he was the first person to ever make you feel real emotions. Fear, excitement, lust, love, heartache, despair. He gave it all to you.

Cross my heart and hope to die Promise you I'll never leave your side

It was an unexpected look, an unexpected plea. His eyes showed excitement. “There, there’s the reason! You can’t stop doing the opposite of my expectations, every time I think you’ll do something, you manage to shock me, even in this kind of situation! I wonder, would you commit suicide if I died? It would be so unexpected!” his voice was full of wonder as he lifted your chin using the front of his foot.

Looking at him he smirked. He'd known, all along, about your feelings. He teased you all the time, but maybe he could finally get an expected reaction from you. It would be possible to toy with you. Maybe then he’d be satisfied with you. “Would you ever be only mine? Something only for my eyes?” with wide eyes you nodded.

Cause I'm telling you you're all I need I promise you you're all I see

With a smile, you brought your hands to press against your chest. With a desperate smile, your eyes filled with that childish light from when you were 15. “Even if I'm only being used for your satisfaction, it would be all I need! You're the only one for me." Once more he was shocked by the response. Nearly losing the balance he had, his hand reached to his face a soft snicker leaving his lips.

“You’re utterly helpless.” he hummed, removing his foot from under your chin. “Come here darling~” he was certainly stressed today. A little fun wouldn’t hurt, right? “Tell me you’ll never leave.” he hummed holding your chin within his fingers. The blush on your cheeks darkening in your complexion.

'Cause I'm telling you you're all I need I'll never leave

His lips met yours. Shivering you closed your eyes, letting a tear fall. You wished he truly loved you back.

~

Another year passed, you stayed by him no matter what he did. He was crueler than ever. He often left you at night to go hang out in a bar. Those nights were lonely but a ginger often peeped in to see you. “You look like hell.” he would always tell you how messed up you looked. “Why do you stay by him?”

The images passed by your head. The boy you fell in love with. The young 15-year-old. The one with a smile that would show itself here and there. The young boy who jokes around, the carefree one. You picture the feeling of his fingers over yours. Cold yet so warm in those years.

So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand

“I love him.” you hummed watching the male drop a bottle of wine in your lap. He walked out leaving the gift. He knew you understood how cruel he was. He had never really pitied anybody before but you… you were something he pitied. A demon prodigy's toy, your relationship was nothing more than toxic.

I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames

Sipping on the wine you drank yourself drunk. “I love him… he loves me. I love him. He loves me, I know he does. I’ve seen some softness in those harsh eyes.” you wiped the tears looking up to the ceiling. What had you gotten yourself into? Why did your heart have to play you like this?

I will follow you, I will follow you

~

He stood looking so conflicted, broken, and unsure. It wasn’t the first time you saw him without the bandages but it was the first time your dull lifeless eyes saw him this vulnerable. “Figures, you do follow me everywhere.” his voice was blank of anything; You could no longer read his voice.

Come sink into me and let me breathe you in

It was true, you needed him, so of course you followed him everywhere. “Go, we’re done! I’m not going back! This is all Mori's fault! He’d be alive if it weren't for inviting that damn organization here!” he was upset, yet he seemed so confused. Like a child, he had no grip on what he was feeling. Was he angry, grieving, sad? He couldn’t tell.

You ran to him wrapping arms around him. “I will go with you! I will follow you!”

I'll be your gravity, you be my oxygen.

You'd hold him down during this pain. You’d help him achieve whatever it was that he needed. “Even if it is death, I will not leave.”

So dig two graves 'cause when you die I swear I'll be leaving by your side

With a soft sigh, he pushed you away. “That changes nothing, follow if you have to but I never loved you.” you backed away smiling you curtsied.

“I know Dazai, I know you never did and never could. You are a demon prodigy, one that can’t understand his own feelings. I wish I could help, but your gift cancels mine out.” your voice was sweet as honey, but he shed you no more glances as he walked away. Following him, you sighed.

~

Two years later your empty eyes sat at an agency desk, you'd bought an outfit to match his. Those feelings refused to leave you even after all this time. They surged more than ever. He was like his 15-year-old self again, different but at least there was life in his eyes. He laughed and flirted just as he did those years ago.

So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand

You looked to the cafe waitress’s hand, then your own. How you wished to be her. You stood up, walking out and to the office of the agency, sitting in your chair, Kyouka walked up to you. She once had your eyes. Dull, lifeless, broken, but then Atsushi seemed to save her. “Do you love him?” she asked tilting her head as you looked from your phone to her, you sighed.

“Yes, but I'll suffer for life over this. I had my chance and now it’s gone.”

I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell

She set down a small piece of paper. “I found this.'' She tried to give you a smile that wasn’t pity. They often asked why you always looked so disturbed. Maybe it was the fact you were really all alone now?

And you can throw me to the flames

A tear dropped from your eye. Something, a feeling you hadn’t had in so long. It was worth it, these empty dull years. “A tossed away letter to apologize.” you held it to your chest.

~

I will follow you so you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand

You found yourself alone on a mission. This was assigned to both you and Dazai, but he had other things he wanted to be doing. Neither of you knew how dangerous this was. He had not batted an eye at this mission. It was simple, a simple recovery mission. A ransom kidnapping, simple in and out. You could handle it without being seen. You ached for the warmth of his hand. A little light lifted your eyes as you stepped into the building.

When his fingers opened his phone accepting the call, he nearly fell over dead. The mission you were attending wasn’t a retrieval; It was a set-up. Despite how careful he'd been, somebody had found out about you. More so his past with you. His mind was too focused on you to think of who let it slip.

I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames

Dazai pushed past the doors too late. This was his fault, all of this. The loss of your true self.

I will follow you, I will follow you I will follow you, I will follow you

You'd always said you would follow him. It was always like that. He had taken years to figure out why he never ignored or let you go. He was selfish, he had grown attached. Ango and Oda had even offered the thought. The thought that, maybe in this heart; swallowed by black, he loved you.

It was his turn to feel desperate as he dropped down. The blood flowing from your stomach in spurts.

So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand

He held your hand in his while also trying to keep the bleeding down. “I’ll get help! Just hang on, we just need Yosano!” it was the first time your heart slowed like this; The first time you could read him like a book.

I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames

Your hand was growing cold, your breathing staggered. You looked to be in so much pain. “No, I won't be that long. You should leave, you don’t love me so…” your voice trailed off as your head tilted to look at his cheeks. Tears… there were tears.

He shook his head pressing your hand to his forehead. “I will follow you.”

Your eyes widened as a light chuckle left your lips, “I will follow you.” you hummed, as the crimson left your lips. He was forced to watch you die in his arms. There was one final look on your face. A giant smile, a real smile on your lips. “I love you Osa…” then, you were gone.

Another, another friend in his arms, dead. No, you are more than a friend. “I… I love you.” he’d never said those words, and it didn’t matter now. There was no going back. He held you to him, cold and motionless.

Somebody from the mafia had done this. Somebody would probably be Mori… he’d dropped this low before, it wouldn’t shock him if he were trying to drive Dazai to murder again; To get him kicked from the light.

For you, for the wish left by Oda, he wouldn’t let himself fall that low. He’d be strong.

[venhedish]

Ven’s Masterlist of SPN Fic

I write mostly pre-series and early seasons Big Feels™ Wincest fic. There’s a lot of angst and pining here, but plenty of love and devotion mixed in with the darkness.

I always deeply, deeply appreciate likes, kudos, comments, and reblogs!

Wincest Fic

Stand-Alone

Yesterday is a Ghost I Believe In ~4.1k, Teen, Pre-series, Epistolary, Multimedia, Experimental There's an old shoebox under Sam Winchester's bed. It's been there almost as long as he can remember. He doesn't look inside it very often, but when he does, he takes his time. A multimedia collection of letters, journal entries, pictures, and other ephemera from a life on the road. .

That Monster, Love ~2k, Teen, Pre-series, POV Outsider, POV John Winchester, John Finds Out, Angst “You think you’re doing your boys any favors, raisin’ ‘em like this?” .

To Cure My Lonesome Blood ~8.8k, Explicit, Pre-series, Pining Dean, Angst, Bittersweet Ending Dean’s been sick since before either of them was born. The disease is incurable, written into his blood – the same blood he shares with his brother. If he’s not careful, the fever will spread like a fire and consume them both. .

Like Sand, Like Water, Like Sunlight ~1.7k, Gen, Pre-series, Mutual Pining, Angst, Pre-Slash Sea birds circle overhead and Dean wishes he had a camera. Sam looks so young, all of twelve years old, and exhilarated. Dean wants to hold this image in the chambers of his heart, but his pulse just carries it along; time is cruel that way. .

The Space Between Sense and Memory ~4.8k, Teen, Pre-series through Season 1, 5-and-1 Things There are a hundred unwritten rules on all the acceptable ways brothers should touch each other. There are hardly any ways at all to break them. Or; five times they follow the rules and one time they don’t. .

Every Goodbye, all at Once ~900, Teen, Pre-series, Stanford Era, Pining Dean, Angst, Epistolary "Hey, It's Sam. If you're looking for my dad, you can reach him at 866-555-9352. If you're looking for me, leave a message." A series of voicemails Dean leaves at the number Sam left behind. .

Breathe You In (Choke You Down) ~6k, Explicit, Season 01, PWP, Scent Kink, Guilty Dean Winchester Once Sam was gone, Dean missed him in a way that was all-consuming, all the way down – so deep in his bones that he shook with loneliness some nights. And it was the familiar scent of his brother’s hair where it tangled warm against the pillows, his pulse beating under his skin and sending the fear of the hunt wafting off of him in waves that Dean struggled to hold onto the hardest. Dean really likes the way Sam smells..  .

Dawn is Coming (Open Your Eyes) ~5k, Explicit, Season 01, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together In which Sam and Dean suffer new wounds and stitch old ones back together. There’s an awful storm, a dead monster, an injury, and a whole lot of feelings. .

You put the Magic in Me ~9.1k, Explicit, Season 02(ish), Sex Pollen, Porn with Plot, Casefic “This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done for a case,” Dean says under his breath, leaning into Sam and scouting the crowd gathered around a dozen tables inside the little café. “Dude, relax,” Sam says back, eyebrows raising at his brother’s nervous energy. “I thought this would be, like, your thing.” He gestures vaguely to the women milling around inside. A long, vividly red banner hangs across the open french doors that lead into the space, emblazoned with the words The Oolong Tea Room Presents: Lonely Hearts Club Speed Dating! Feb 11-14th! Or; in which Sam and Dean learn a thing or two about chemistry. .

The Stars are not Wanted Now ~2k, Teen, Season 02, Episode Tag: s02e21 All Hell Breaks Loose, Angst, Death Rituals There was a body on the bed.  It had been there long enough that the slanting light of morning crept into the room like an unwelcome invader and washed the world in a dream-shade of palest blue.   But there were no dreams here; only death, only memory. The body on the bed was all that remained of Samuel Winchester, who had died in his brother’s arms the night before. .

Demi-Gods and Hungry Ghosts ~5.8k, Explicit, Season 03, Episode Tag: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Dark, Dub-con, Hurt No Comfort This dream-state of living on pause and rewind leads to some interesting avenues of thought that Sam doesn’t mean to travel, but after a certain number of unrelenting Tuesdays, they just become inevitable. If Dean dies every day—if his memories are wiped, or if they never happen at all—what could Sam get away with, if he wanted to? Could he dare to find out?  .

In Sanguine Vita Est   ~5.2k, Explicit, Season 04, Knifeplay, Dean’s Hell Trauma, Hurt/Comfort Everything was different now. Dean was here—back from the fucking dead—but he was a stranger in his own body. Scars gone, aches from broken bones that hadn’t set right vanished back into the void as if they’d never existed at all. He’d become a stranger to the whole world. He’d become a stranger to Sam. _ Dean asks Sam to help him heal after he returns from Hell. .

All Heartless Spectres, Happiness ~5.7k, Explicit, Season 06, Episode Tag: s06e06 You Can’t Handle the Truth, POV Outsider, Angst, Soulless Sam Lisa Braeden receives an email with the subject line, "You Deserve to Know." It contains a single video file and nothing else. .

The Rungs of Me be Under You ~1.6k, Teen, Gencest, Post-Bunker, 2nd Person POV, Queerplatonic Sam and Dean, Non-Sexual Kink What they share has never been easy to define. Why should this be any different?  .

Wincest Series The Top/Bottom Discourse Series (Ongoing) [Each story is canon compliant and listed chronologically, but they can all be read as standalone works.] This series was born originally from a silly meta post I made on Tumblr as a response to some very angry top/bottom discourse I was seeing about how only Sam could truly be A Top™, or how only Dean could truly be A Top™. I personally like to kink and let kink and not drag outdated gender politics into my fandom (Dean can't be a bottom because he's too masculine? Ice cold take, bro), so I wrote a filthy little tongue-in-cheek post about all the ways I think Sam and Dean have fucked each other over the years.

 I’m Thinking About Whatever You’re Thinking About ~5.1k, Explicit, Pre-series, PWP, Bratty Sam, Exhibitionism, Fear of Discovery Sam is such a brat, sometimes. .

 Shoot to Thrill ~6.7k, Explicit, Season 02, Porn with Plot, Hustling, Getting Back Together It's just like riding a bike. .

Burn Out The Night ~4.9k, Explicit, Season 08, Porn with Plot, Car Sex, Light BDSM, Fluff What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. .

Destiel Fic

Love Made a Martyr of Me ~500, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Past Sam/Dean, Angst Sam says yes in Detroit, and in the space of a single syllable, there's nothing left in Heaven or on Earth for Dean to love. Cas doesn't seem to care. .

The Sharp Teeth of the One You Love ~2k, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining “Quit bein’ a baby, Cas.” Dean’s hands were covered in blood, but they were steady as always while he worked to stitch Castiel back together. “I’m sorry,” Cas growled between gritted teeth. “I don’t exactly have a lot of experience feeling pain.” He hissed again when Dean slid the curved needle back through the eight-inch-long gash that ran deep and bloody down Cas’s bicep. Castiel learns something about what it means to be human. .

Wincestiel Fic

Temerate ~700, Teen, Season 05(ish), Past Sam/Dean, 2nd Person POV, First Time Your brother is sitting in the corner of the motel room. His big hands are worrying at each other; he squeezes them together, fingertips white from the pressure of his grip. He meets your eyes and his gaze is like a lightning strike. .

Dean/John Fic

Cruore ~1.1k, Mature, Pre-series, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Blood, Intrusive Thoughts Bites, Dean could deal with – claw marks and broken bones. But this- ... a bullet was a different kind of monster altogether. .

Supernatural RPF

Il Cielo in Una Stanza ~4.4k, Explicit, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Getting Back Together, Prequel-Gate, Polyamory, Non-AU Jared Padalecki receives a present he wasn't expecting at all for his 39th birthday. . 

Other Supernatural Fic

Bad Things, Better Reasons ~2k, Explicit, Pre-series, Dean Does Sex Work, Angst, Brotherly Love. Dean does whatever it takes to keep the bills paid while John is gone. The kid waiting for him back at the motel room is all the justification he’ll ever need. .

No Was Her Name ~1.3k, Teen, Season 12, Dean/Mary, Light Angst, First Kiss Mary Winchester was alive. She was solid—made of skin and blood and bone—and she existed in the same world as Dean. It wasn’t a dream; she walked and talked and breathed. She ate, she slept, she wandered the halls of the bunker at odd hours. She was a ghost made flesh, and Dean was haunted by her presence. .

[goodfish-bowl]

@floralflowerpower here’s the fic you asked for, took me a bit but I think it turned out pretty well! 

based on this post and this headcanon

Summary: Danny had to admit, he’d never thought something like this would happen. Usually, the roles were reversed, and he’d be the one bursting in through warehouse doors, guns blazing, ready to kick some ghost butt. Never thought he’d be the one dangling precariously close to a large vat of somewhat familiar bubbling ectoplasm, while the stereotypical villain paced near the lever that would drop him to his doom. That made him the damsel in distress, a concerning idea. 

 Words: 3530 

Danny had to admit, he’d never thought something like this would happen. Usually, the roles were reversed, and he’d be the one bursting in through warehouse doors, guns blazing, ready to kick some ghost butt. Never thought he’d be the one dangling precariously close to a large vat of somewhat familiar bubbling ectoplasm, while the stereotypical villain paced near the lever that would drop him to his doom. That made him the damsel in distress, a concerning idea.

Normally, this wouldn’t be concerning, but he couldn’t phase through the chain that was wrapped around him enough times he resembled a cocoon rather than a hostage. It must’ve come from the Ghost Zone, with the light glow emitting from the mental links and the lack of burning pain associated with anti-ghost coatings and ectoranium. At least he bought local. He liked the energy coming off of the surprisingly large container of ectoplasm, radiating a glow and mist that bathed everything he saw in green, even less than the idea of being chained upside-down over said vat. He didn’t want to find out why.

Who was this loser anyway? The ghost lawyer? He’d never seen, heard, nor smelled this ghost in his entire half-life. His navy suit contrasted awfully with his green skin, violet eyes, and mint-green hair, and those red shoes definitely didn’t match any of it. What a lame villain, couldn’t even dress himself properly.

“Hey! Looser!” Danny called out, and the lawyer ghost perked up.

“Splendid! You’re awake! It would’ve been anticlimactic if you stayed unconscious,” the ghost remarked.

“Should’ve stayed unconscious, it would’ve kept me from having to witness your crime against fashion. Who are you and how’d I get here? Last I checked you didn’t ask me if I wanted to hang out?” Danny quipped.

“I am Wright, a ghost of due process and order, and your darling Valerie Gray has thwarted me for the last time! I boyfriend-napped you to draw her here! Your doom will serve as her punishment,” Wright exclaimed, like a looser.

Danny just stared at the ghost for a minute as his head attempted to wrap around what was going on, and hanging upside down, wrapped in chains, didn’t help.

“’Boyfriend-napped? Seriously? That’s not even a word, and Val and I stopped dating, like, a year ago!” Danny pointed out.

“Irrelevant,” Wright huffed, ”You still hold her affections, and your death will cause her the same grief she caused me.”

Danny scoffed, “What’d she do to you anyways? She shoots at all the ghosts, you’re not special.”

“I wasn’t aware that you knew about her… nightly activities,” Wright stated, and Danny gave him a look.

“Ok, let me get this straight, who am I to you?” Danny asked, confused. Most ghosts were aware that Valerie was the Red Huntress, and Wright had yet to make a remark about having “captured Phantom”.

“Daniel Fenton, the son of the infamous ghosthunters Madeline and Jack Fenton of Amity Park, and the former sweetheart of Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress,” Wright announced.

“Right, ok. What do you know about Phantom?”

“I hold great admiration for the protector of Amity Park! He goes through the process of capturing ghosts with efficiency and never acts without just cause! He’s a powerful ghost worthy of the titles bestowed upon him! He valiantly defends both his haunt and the people who live there, both human and ghost! Truly a pillar of order and process!” Wright gushed and Danny fought the urge to roll his eyes, ”What does this have to do with you, however?”

Danny frowned, fighting off the reflex to claim Amity wasn’t his haunt, but his home. The praise was appreciated, but he really didn’t understand why this ghost held him so high. He was more surprised by the fact that this ghost didn’t know that Phantom and Fenton were the same damn person and that he had just kidnapped someone he held in such high regard.

“What do you mean by ‘order and process’?” Danny asked, just to get a proper definition as to what this poorly dressed lawyer was on.

“He properly maintains a level of organization and protection in Amity Park, protecting the order and in every single fight plays out how it’s supposed to be. A trespasser with malicious intentions shows up, Phantom arrives shortly, they banter and fight, Phantom emerges victorious, and the trespasser is removed from the premises, thus process. Does that make sense to your feeble human mind?” Wright chastised, explaining himself carefully.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Well, aren’t you a ghost ‘trespassing’ in Amity Park? Doesn’t that mean Phantom will he show up to save m, tossing you back into the Zone?” Danny bluffed.

“But we’re not in Amity Park, I may have boyfriend-napped–“

“Please never say that word again.”

“-you from there, but that’s not where we currently are. Red Huntress operates out of Elmertown, and I would never infringe upon Phantom’s haunt!”

Huh, Danny supposed that made sense to a point, he never really dealt with ghosts in Elmertown, since they were usually just low-level specters that usually didn’t mean any harm. If Val was operating out of here, then it made sense that there would be so few ghosts, and also that the ghosts that were afraid or ‘admired’ him like Wright would stick to Elmertown rather than Amity.  

“And Val doesn’t follow your version of ‘order and process’?”

“NO! She shows up, never lets me get through my proper monologue or cause the necessary level of chaos, and then threatens my afterlife, completely uncivilized! What an improper lady! Always shooting first, never asking questions!” Wright exasperated.

“Sorry, but that’s Val’s order and process. Guns blazing and ready to kick some ghost butt.”

Valerie burst in through the doors, with perfect theatric timing, her ecto-rifle poised and aimed at Wright.

“Danny!” she exclaimed, immediately focusing on him before shifting her rage towards the ghost in the room.

Oh boy, did she look pissed. Danny wasn’t sure if he’d ever pushed her to the point Wright currently had. Her suit blazed with scarlet energy, read to fire at the drop of a hat, bright enough Danny could see it over the green haze of the pool of ectoplasm beneath him.  

“Finally! It took you long enough. I left a note and everything,” Wright complained, unmoved by her anger.

“Let Danny go, or I blast a hole straight through you this time, Wright,” Valerie snarled.

Wright sneered, ”You shoot me, and I drop the boy-toy into a vat of concentrated ectoplasm. There’s not even enough distance for you to swoop in and save him before he’s at least partially submerged.”

Valerie looked over to Danny, and he almost smiled in greeting, but he managed to stop himself as a particular detail resurfaced. Fenton didn’t know Valerie was the Red Huntress, that was knowledge only Phantom was privy to. Damn it. Valerie’s eyes were wide in fear under her visor, and her grip tightened on her rifle considerably. Danny couldn’t make a joke or anything, and he was forced to fill his expression with unfamiliarity and panic, like a proper actor. He met her eyes anyways, cool and calm, before gritting his teeth. He trusted Valerie, she would save him, but he also knew her well enough to know she hated playing along. Valerie hadn’t realized that the Red Huntress wasn’t supposed to know Danny Fenton either, so perhaps it evened out in its own way.  

“Dragging a bystander into a personal fight is just like a ghost,” she spat the word, “What is it you want?”

Wright began with a flourish of his arms, “For everything to play out in the proper order of course! For an order to be restored to your haphazard violence! We are going to go through all of the proper motions of this encounter and the winner will always be the hero! We just have to figure out who’s who.”

“I’m not letting you monologue while Da-… while an innocent is hanging over… whatever that is!” Valerie protested.

“I never expected such an aggressive and weak-minded being such as you to understand the importance of doing things the right way! That’s why I needed a hostage.” Wright huffed. “Also, It’s concentrated ectoplasm. like the name implies its densely packed ectoplasm, a powerful source of energy for both ghosts and most of your human anti-ghost technology, but burns through humans faster than hydrochloric acid,” Wright explained, and Danny couldn’t help but pale in response.

Oh… that was bad, and no wonder he recognized it, he’d seen it in small amounts around the lab. Danny also didn’t want to see how he, a half-ghost currently human, would react to it. Valerie also apparently didn’t want to find out, more than she wanted to blast a hole through Wright apparently. Her shoulders began trembling and she grit her teeth, glancing rapidly between where Danny was dangling and where Wright waited patiently for her to make her decision. Danny took a deep breath and called out to her, snapping her out of her internal conflict.

“Don’t worry about me, Red Huntress! I’ll just hang out right here! I’m not going anywhere!”

Valerie sent Danny a look, exasperated and melancholic, most likely due to the pun, before setting her gaze on Wright, who had a large grin on his face displaying way too many teeth.

“Fine,” she spat, “let’s get this over with.”

“Wonderful!” Wright clapped his hands, “As you can see, Red Huntress, I have captured Danny Fenton! And unless you defeat me in the next three minutes, he will get dropped to his doom!”

“Wait, there’s a timer?” Danny asked, and Wright ignored his interruption, hitting a button next to the lever, probably starting the timer.

“Now meet your maker, Red Huntress!”

Wright vaulted over the bars of the platform he was standing on, directly at Valerie. She met him halfway with a crimson blast, energy meeting the sole of his atrocious red shoes in a form of deflection, launching him into the air where he remained suspended. He launched several violet ectoblasts while Valerie charged up her gun again, taking to the air as her hoverboard formed beneath her feet. They began a combination of hand-to-hand strikes and blasts midair, often speeding out of Danny’s view as he craned his neck to witness the fight. There was too much blood in his head for him to focus properly, but there was something off about the way Wright fought.

One, two, three, five ecto blasts, then he switched to close combat, striking 7 times with his fists and ending in a kick to gain some distance before firing ectoblasts again. It was in order…

“Red! He’s fighting in a pattern! Five blasts, seven punches, one kick!” Danny called out.

They careened back in front of him, and Val nodded in confirmation. Wright ended with a kick and floated back into the air.

“I’ve seen you figured me out! But it will not allow you to defeat me!”

Wright fired off his blasts, and Valerie easily countered them, now knowing what to expect. Wright came in close again, attempting to rush her. His fist connected to her forearms 6 times, each blocked easily and efficiently by Valerie’s suit, doing practically no damage. She had positioned herself right near the chain that held Danny above ‘his doom’. Wright had one more hit left, but rather than take it he backed off, just as the timer beeped.

“It seems it’s time for us to end this charade, Red Huntress.” Wright declared and broke the pattern early and fired a clean and precise ectoblast behind Valerie.

The chain went slack, and Danny plummeted. Valerie grasped it in desperation shouting something he couldn’t hear, but it was too late, the upper half of his body dunked below the surface.

It was like getting dunked into freezing water, at least before he became immune to the cold. It sent shivers and rose goosebumps along every single point of contact, he saw nothing but green. It felt like the submerged half of his body had fallen asleep, pins and needles piercing his skin, but never actually hurting him. Danny thrashed despite this, desperate to get out the concoction meant to kill him, not realizing he wasn’t in pain as panic swept away any other rational thought.

(page break)

“Danny!” Valerie shouted, grasping desperately for the chain.

It skid in her grip, a yard too late and Danny slipped halfway below the surface. His whole body thrashed sending ripples across the surface but making no sound. She screamed, her voice filling the empty void of Danny’s soundlessness. It was already too late, some part of her mind spoke, but she refused to acknowledge it. As fast she physically could, she tied the chain to the closest bar and launched herself on her hoverboard. She snapped the chain Danny was hanging from with ease and a grief-filled ectoblast, and took Danny down to the ground, careful not to touch the green sludge the covered the upper half of his torso.

Valerie’s hoverboard collapsed back into her suit, and then they met eyes, something that her mind could barely register. Even more than that, she wasn’t looking at the face that had plummeted into the vat. Phantom’s eyes stared back wide, bright green and covered in ectoplasm, stared back on her, while the bottom half remained clothed in jeans and battered red converse. Her mind short-circuited, and she was pretty sure her suit as well from the beating it had just taken.  

Danny… Phantom… whoever the hell she was staring at seemed to finally realize that he was out, let out a cough, rolling over onto his stomach to purge the concentrated ectoplasm from his lung, and heaved a deep breath of air he couldn’t possibly need once they were clear. He rolled back over and sat up, shifting in the chains, trying to get out of them.

Valerie saw red, and snatched the chains, pulling Phantom’s face close to hers, a snarl on her face. Phantom’s eyes widened and he yelped at the sudden tug.

“Is this what you do?! You teamed up with Wright of all ghosts to get to me?!” Valerie cried.

Phantom’s eyes widened, confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about! I was kidnapped!” He yelped.

“Don’t lie to me Phantom!”

Phantom froze, looking like a dear caught in headlights. He frantically tried to glance himself over, writhing in place, still unable to move his arms since he was still chained up. Valerie had no intention of unchaining him now. He caught sight of his jumpsuit and shook some of his soaked hair into his face, catching its color.

“Oh.”

“What do you mean ‘Oh’?!”

“Just learned what happens when I get drenched in concentrated ectoplasm.” His tone was even and quiet and only served to infuriate her further.

“Answer me, Phantom!”

“I didn’t lie!” He shouted right back, “He really did kidnap me!”

“Then where is Danny?! He’s still missing. Does Wright still have him?” She demanded.

Phantom shifted around in the chains again, and Valerie unceremoniously dropped him to the floor. He grunted by was focused on the chains now. Phantom’s eyes flared ice blue, overtaking their normal toxic green, and the chains froze solid. With enough strain, the metal links shattered and clattered uselessly to the floor. He stretched his arms and glanced them over.

There was a line, clear and definable, where the ectoplasm hadn’t touched him. Under the green substance, was Phantom, jumpsuit and all, but Valerie was fixated on the borderline, as was Phantom, where the jumpsuit transitioned into Danny’s iconic red and white shirt. There were no gloves on his hands, and the jumpsuit ceased existing halfway down his arms, and the skin underneath the goo was the same color as Phantom’s face, but the dry areas were the same pale as Danny’s skin.

“I’m right here, Valerie,” Phantom said, looking straight through her.

Valerie scoffed, “I see you here, Phantom, but where’s Danny Fenton?”

“I’m Danny Fenton.”

Of all the things Phantom could’ve said, that wasn’t the answer she wanted. For the second time that night, her mind reeled to a halt.

"You can’t be Danny, you’re a ghost,” Valerie justified.

“And people can die? I just happen to be caught in the middle.” Phantom said, making no sense.

“You died? Danny’s dead?” Her voice came out quietly, almost a whimper.

“I’m more like half-dead.” He had the nerve to laugh. “A bit of both ghost and human mixed together, I can be either-or.”

“What was the name of the flour baby we raised together?” She pressed, looking for a piece of information Danny would know, but Phantom shouldn’t.

“We… we didn’t name it, did we? I’m pretty sure that wasn’t one of the requirements Mr. Lancer gave us.” Phantom responded with a weak chuckle.

Valerie looked at him, really looked at him. Phantom and Fenton didn’t really look that different, in fact, they were surprisingly similar to the point it was eerie. He had always looked freakily familiar, and now she knew why. They had the same facial structure, hairstyle, and even the awful senses of humor lined up. The only difference was that Phantom was a ghost, and Danny was human.

“How can you be half-dead?” Valerie asked.

“Turns out the portal is really dark on the inside, that is until you turn it on from the inside.”

It took Valerie a minute, but then she understood. She fully understood. Her helmet and visor retracted, revealing her watering eyes. Danny was Phantom, and Phantom was Danny.  He wasn’t being overshadowed, overshadowing didn’t look like this, not half-covered in ectoplasm like he was. Danny didn’t make eye contact, choosing instead to collect a bit of it onto his finger, watching intently as his skin sizzled, glowing white and the edges and spreading like a chemical reaction until it reached the edge of the ectoplasm. The skin became discolored, and a bit of white-silver glove appeared, manifesting all on its own underneath the goop. Then he had the nerve to lick it off.

Valerie scrunched up her face in disgust while Phantom seemed to contemplate the taste, still focusing on his finger. The darker skin tone and glove seemed to dissolve away on their own back into pale skin once the ectoplasm was gone.  Danny really was Phantom.

Valerie threw herself onto the ground and punched him as hard as she could in her given state, her suit protecting her from the concentrated ectoplasm on his body that could possibly burn her if Wright was to be trusted.

“Ouch!” Danny complained, rubbing his arm where she’d hit, the ectoplasm spreading to his hand forming the glove again.

“I dated you!” Valerie protested, “I dated you, and then broke up with you!”

Danny’s gaze shifted around, confused and sheepish. “Y-yeah?”

“I broke up with you to focus on hunting you!”

“Yeah?”

“And you knew this entire damn time!”

“Uhhhhhh… yeah.” He admitted, looking down awkwardly and attempting to wipe his hand off on his jeans, but only succeeded in spreading the ectoplasm around. The patch of denim transformed into black rubber.

“You ruined my life!”

“I’ve told you a thousand times! It was an accident!” Danny protested, wiping his hand on the ground again in an attempt to get more off but finally looking back up at her.

Valerie stared at him for a moment, before devolving into a fit of giggles, getting to her feet from where she had seated herself on the floor. Danny looked up at her, even more confused than before.

“You really need to wash that stuff off, or are you going to lick yourself clean?” Valerie teased.

Danny huffed indignantly, climbed to his own feet, and a white ring blossomed around his waist. Valerie watched in awe as what parts were still Fenton transformed into equally an equally familiar jumpsuit and set of silver boots. The ectoplasm that still coated him slowly vanished, absorbed into his ghostly form. The ghostly halo around him grew in intensity, glowing brighter than before. His feet lifted from the floor and he began to float, eyes also growing in intensity. Danny gave a large smile, literally beaming bright enough to light up a good portion of the warehouse all on his own.

“Thanks, Val,” Danny said.

“For what exactly?” she asked.

“Well, you didn’t shoot me when I told you I was Danny Fenton, you saved me from witnessing Wright's awful sense of fashion any longer, and finally for Elmertown,” Danny counted off on his fingers.

"Elmertown?”

Danny put his hands on his hips matter-of-factly, ”Even if I don’t agree with your methods, you’ve been protecting Elmertown from ghosts. So, thank you,” Danny confessed.

He landed on the ground in front of her, boots barely making as sound and bright enough she was nearly blinded by it. He gave her a large, goofy smile, one that she was much more used to seeing on Fenton’s face than Phantom’s, but it only reinforced the idea that they were the same person.

Valerie smiled right back.