#to just take her instead. you see ash punching at the ground a lot. the combination of all that + the fire spells she casts really did a

[silverselfshippingchaos]

the way she looks at him here... goodness...

[averytiredfanfictionwriter]

The Immortals- Chapter One

This is a Dream SMP Au in which the protagonist, Dream, and Phil are part of a race of immortals that walk the earth among the hybrids and humans. I hope you guys enjoy. I’ll also be including the Ao3 link if you want to read it on there instead. Enjoy. (And please ignore the fact that character here is also a dragon hybrid. They are not the same character from my last story on here) Trigger Warning/Content Warning: Blood, violence

Chapter Two

Ash opens the door to the bedroom slowly, so as not to wake the young man currently sleeping in the bed next to the window.

His wings lay over him, shielding his body should anything decide to attack in the middle of the night while he’s asleep and she approaches warily.

“Dad!” A young child runs by her, startling her out of her stalking and waking the man up.

“Good morning,” he yawns.

“Good morning Phil. I tried not to wake Tommy up, but turns out he’d crawled into bed with me last night and refused to let me get up without him as well.” She says, grabbing Tommy from the bed where he’d started to jump up and down at the end of it.

“Ah, well, probably for the best.” Phil says as he watches Ash set Tommy down onto the ground where he promptly runs off to do god knows what.

“Techno and Wilbur are outside fighting each other again. God knows what it is they’re fighting over this time. I was going to get them myself, but was worried I'd get trapped in the middle of them.” Ash frowns and Phil shakes his head.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got them if you can handle Tommy for a few minutes.” Phil steps out of bed, his dark wings stretching out slightly.

From the moment Phil and Ash first met, she’s been hesitant to join in on any kind of fighting. She’s never explained why and Phil’s never asked, assuming it has something to do with whatever happened before they met, seeing as she’s more than 500 years older than him.

“He’s four years old. I think I’ve got this.” Ash laughs, leaving the room in search of the child.

Phil groans as he wonders about whatever the two older children are fighting about this time. Ever since they got older, the inseparable duo have become engaged in constant verbal and physical battles. Honestly, Phil is getting tired of it but he has no idea how to stop it.

He changes into a long robe for the day, leaving the bedroom and seeing Ash chasing Tommy around the living room, eventually catching him by wrapping her wing around him as he tries to get around her. He smiles softly at the sight, hearing the giggles from Tommy and seeing the joy in Ash’s eyes. He would rather have no here by his side, especially after losing Kristen.

Steeling himself for the inevitable scuffle that’s going to happen when he tries to break up the boys, he opens the front door and his mouth immediately drops to the ground. Techno stands with his back to the house, towering over an unmoving figure on the ground, his long sword dripping blood into the grass. Scratches cover his body and a slowly spreading patch of red stains his shirt.

Phil screams, an unintelligible sound, startling the dragon hybrid into almost dropping Tommy on the ground in shock, just barely managing to land him on the couch where he sits giggling.

She runs out the door and her heart immediately drops at the sight in front of her. Phil kneels next to Wilbur’s body, hands pressed to his abdomen in a futile attempt to stop the flow of blood.

Ash runs to them, falling to her knees as she presses her hands to Wilburs body, the healing magic flowing through her fingers and repairing the damage done by Techno, who now sits against a tree a little ways away from everyone.

The jagged wound in the boy's chest slowly closes up, leaving only a faded scar as a reminder of what happened. Techno watches on, emotionless on the outside but internally screaming at himself. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He didn’t mean to fight Wilbur. It was just supposed to be a sparring session, but the voices that had slowly been popping up started to demand he hit harder, stop pulling his punches and aim for the more tender spots of his opponent. One thing led to another and the next thing he knew he was standing over the body of his brother, watching as he bled out into the front lawn.

Wilbur gasps softly, taking a deep breath in as Phil clutches onto him, hugging his son close to him.

Phil looks up to where Techno is sitting, practically burning holes into Techno with his stare. “Get away. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, standing and walking past his brother and adoptive dad, who sit on the ground hugging each other.

Ash stands, watching Techno leave, seeing the confused look on Tommy’s face as he watches from the doorway. She follows after him into the house, telling Tommy to stay on the couch for a little bit.

Knocking on the door of the bathroom, Ash can hear the water being turned off before it swings open, a confused Techno standing on the other side.

The medical kit sits opened up on the counter and she sees the bloodied shirt Techno wore discarded on the floor.

“May I?” She nods towards the medical kit and he moves out her way wordlessly, letting her into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

Stringing the needle silently, she starts work on stitching the long cut. He doesn’t make a noise, as unmoving as a statue while she works. She would use her magic, like usual, but she used up her energy practically bringing Wilbur back from the dead.

“Why?” Techno asks after some time, not questioning why she helps people, but mostly why she’s in here helping him having seen what he did.

“Because I know you didn’t mean it. I know what it’s like being persuaded to do things you don’t want to do, and I know how you feel. I’ve hurt a lot of people in my very long life, and I can tell you that that’s not the worst I’ve seen. And I don’t hate you. Phil doesn’t either. He’s just hurt and worried for Wilbur right now. That’s a very scary thing to have to see as a father.” Ash finishes stitching up the wound and bandaging it, looking up at the piglin hybrid's face to see tears glinting in his eyes.

Before she can say anything, he’s already wrapping his arms around her in a hug, letting her cradle him to her chest on the ground and hold him as he lets the silent tears roll down his cheeks. She doesn’t know how long they stay there in that position, but soon she can hear the almost inaudible snores from Techno and smiles at how adorable the young piglin hybrid is when sleeping.

After a few moments of thinking, she knows what she needs to do. The only hard part will be convincing Phil it’s the right thing.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 11- Much More 

Summary: Deciding to let Geralt handle the child surprise on his own and rekindle your friendship with Yennefer while against all odds, fight with mages by your side, it’s time to protect Sodden from Nilfgaard.

Warning: blood, fighting Nilfgaard soldiers, angst, reader going a bit feral, eyy more backstory ft. Geralt

Masterlist

The next morning, in the early hours of the dawn did you, Yennefer, and a handful of willing mages set off in lifeboats for the distant shore. You sat in silence within the tight cluster of other bodies seated all around you, every mage dressed very distinctive from one another, their outfits less then ready for battle if you're being completely honest.

You could almost laugh, what exactly did these magical people have in mind when the time came to stopping Nilfgaard? They travel in their fancy robes and attire like it's time to go to court. But you digress, they may look like a fashionable lot, but they do know how to use their powers for destruction if need be.

Hopefully they won't shy away from turning a soldier to ash.

The boat ride lasted longer then you'd have liked, honestly why didn't you just fly across? Oh right, you wanted information about what's going to happen and you know, Yennefer.

Cursed that damned djinn.

Once the boat safely rested against the sandy shore did you get out with the rest of the other mages. Not caring in the slightest to help them pull it fully onto the grass beyond the sand, though you could have done it with one hand. Instead do you follow Yennefer as Vilgefortz questions her relentlessly about many things she simply brushes off, disinterested and annoyed.

It's another boring cluster fuck of hours before you can hear the telling noise of people as they prepare for battle. Once you find your way out of the woods do you notice the great castle-like structure of the Elven keep upon Sodden's Hill, it's crumbling white stony walls sticking out like a sore thumb against the greenery of the land. On the other side, a long bridge pathway leading to the other edge of the great pass, exactly where Nilfgaard is planning to go.

You follow the mages as you all make your way down to the grassy hill towards the tents below, Tissaia meets up with another mage, a man who welcomes you all with open arms, clearly he did not expect such company. But by the looks of it, is desperately going to need every single one of you.

You walk in step with Yennefer, Triss to your back as you shift your gaze from the spread out mass of tired refugee villagers, orphans, and scared old men. The atmosphere is dreary and tense, they all know what's coming and the sight of your group makes some of them even more nervous.

"These people," Starts the robed mage as he walks in line with Tissaia, "they have been pushed from their homes. They've seen the scorched earth, the fields of corpses stretching between Gemmera and this river. Such cruelty."

"It's Nilfgaards way." Replies Tissaia, "There's nothing like a higher purpose to permit men to do the unspeakable." If that isn't the truth.

"But it's all any of us have left. We have to defend it."

"That's heroic." States Sabrina much to your surprise.

You turn to her, "And stupid." They all stop and stare at you in puzzlement like you'd just kicked a helpless puppy and laughed about it, letting out a sigh you shift your scarlet eyes upon the man and Tissaia, "Take the children and hide before they get here so they may avoid more terror and death."

His brows furrow, "There is no more hiding from Nilfgaard. They have come from beyond the mountains to destroy the world." You stay silent, it's not worth arguing over at this point. He's already made up his mind.

Saving the slightly awkward moment, Triss steps in, "You still believe it can be saved?"

Everyone looks to the mage as he stares off into the distance, a look of hope in his bright blue eyes, "I suppose I do." He smiles before turning back to your group, "With some help." And just like that do you all make your way into the keep to further make use of your talents.

Countless arrays of glass bottles are set out and filled with some type of strangely smelling blue rock, arrows are constructed and set out up by the ramparts as you watch from your perch high atop a castle ledge. The preparations are made throughout the whole entirety of the day, the villagers and mages alike all working tirelessly together in a hopefully fruitful attempt at saving this dying stronghold from the Nilfgaardians.

The sun has kept herself hidden from the world hours ago, the beautiful welcoming blanket of darkness settling across the land for the time being. Your favorite time of the day. You watch as the mages and other villagers find their company with one another on a last night of peace before blood is most likely spilt tomorrow when the soldiers arrive.

Against all odds the atmosphere is quite happier and light, people telling stories over fires under the stars as they take their minds off of the impending doom. You've placed yourself a couple feet from Tissaia and Vilgefortz as they sit side by side on a stone ledge with their feet just about touching the ground, a drink in their hands as they reminisce about better times in their lives. You hold one knee up, your other leg dangling freely as you listen to Yennefer and Triss as they walk into view.

Triss snacks on an apple as she points towards your direction, "Is Vilgefortz to be our new daddy?" A small snort escapes you as your heightened hearing catches her jest. Not a second later does Vilgefortz happen to get up, leaving you and Tissaia alone, Yennefer parting from Triss as she stops in the grass. Unsure of where to go next, Tissaia takes this as a cue to raise her glass, "The ale won't disappoint. We should enjoy it while we can."

Yennefer turns to the two of you, a stoic expression crossing her features as she walks over, "It's the first thing Nilfgaard will destroy." She quips bluntly before sitting down in between the both of you.

Tissaia hands her a spare glass, "Must you always be so fatalistic?"

"It's only appropriate, seeing as we might die." Replies the violet eyed mage before taking a sip of the ale, still rather unenthusiastical about everything.

You chuckle, "Well maybe you two, I on the other hand plan on tearing these dogs to pieces."

Tissaia laughs, "All the more reason to live tonight."

Yennefer sets her mug against her lap, "Mmm. Like you." She retorts, looking knowingly in the direction of Vilgefortz as he converses with some soldiers. You look to Tissaia, a smile upon her slender face as she stares almost adoringly at the raven haired man. The three of you look to one another and begin laughing like young school girls who just found out about their friends secret crush.

It feels nice, oddly so.

Your laughter slowly dies down, a more heavy aurora laying over the three of you as your smiles vanish from your once happy faces. Tissaia sighs before excusing herself from the two of you, no doubt heading to seek out the man of the hour.

You sit back in a comfortable silence as a light breeze caresses your face before turning an eye to your friend, "Are you ready?" Your voice is steady and calm yet holding so much, Yennefer quickly turns to face you, her eyes full of apprehensive wonder, "To die." You finish with a raise of your brow, "If destiny decides to finally take us out that is."

She pauses for a moment to think it over as she watches some kids run by in the firelight, "Yes. I've lived two or three lifetimes already."

"But you haven't been satisfied in any of them." You point out as she frowns, her eyes downcast in the nearby fire light.

"But I've no legacy to leave behind. No family." She says sadly, "It's time to accept that life has no more to give." A tinge of disappointment in her voice as she sits next to you, feeling rather defeated with her life.

"You still have so much left to give." She looks to you now, a kind warm smile pulling at your features, "I know it, and I'm not just saying that because of well, you know. I've never really thought about it but you're kind of like me in a way."

She slowly nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, not sure where you're about to go with this, "How so?"

You shrug, "We're both half of something, two pieces that make us a whole being of vitality and raw power. You're half elf, I'm half vampire, two incredible immortal races that should not be fucked with." You playfully nudged her shoulder, "We don't always get what we want in life, she can be quite the bitch you know, and even though I'll never have a true heir of my own. Well I guess, if I can keep alive some of the good in this world while defeating the evil, that's good enough for me. My legacy is hidden within my actions and who I help along the way, it's all it needs to be."

She furrows her brows, "Thank you Y/N." Sincerity in her voice.

You let out a breathy laugh, clearly confused, "For what?"

"For deciding to come with me to this place, you could have left and fucked off to wherever you chose next. But you decided to stay, and well...maybe I do enjoy having you in my company....no matter how how scary those eyes of yours are." She teases.

You smile, "Not the djinn talking?"

"No. Not the djinn. I swear it." Says Yennefer honestly.

You softly hum in agreeance, "So do I. I think it just makes us want to protect one another, perhaps that's how we're drawn in. It's like I'm a beacon of light and you're a moth," You laugh, "or something like that."

"I think so too. Hopefully we don't end up dying, or well, I don't end up dying that is. Guess I'm not entirely sure if I'm ready." Inquires Yennefer uneasily.

"Is anyone ever? I can't die just yet anyways, I still have to see Geralt again, tell him I'm sorry for leaving and probably punch him for that damned wish. Gods I feel horrible..."

"You had every right to say what you did, and don't worry, I know you Y/N. You'll survive. I'm sure of it."

You lean back into the grass, your arms holding you up as you stare up into the dark starry night sky, "Thanks, very motivational. But hey, since we're out here and unsure for the inevitable future.....got any stories?"

Yennefer takes another sip of her mug before setting it down in her lap, "Got a few, but I'd honestly rather hear something from you." She lightly kicks your boot, "Is there any truth to Jaskier's ballad about when you and Geralt fought a Bruxa? From his tale, it appeared to be quite the story."

Rolling your eyes you scoff, "Oh yeah, that bard loves to make our hunts seem so glamorous and amazing, the famous White Wolf almost got his balls slashed off from the nasty fucker."

She hums in interest, "Do tell." You look at her with the most unamused face you can muster, she simply laughs at your lackluster reaction, "Oh come on, Y/N. Tell me all the gory details, I'd rather enjoy hearing about how your Witcher almost lost his prized jewels."

You stare a her before making a gesture for her to hand you the half filled mug in her lap, with a smirk she generously hands it to you, "Now. I can tell you the story." You add before taking a hearty chug, setting the mug down next to you in the grass as you let out a little hiccup, "Alright, so for this specific hunt we though it best to leave Jaskier or he would have without a doubt been killed on the spot, and blah blah we all would have sorely missed him." You lightly chuckle at the dark thought, "Anyways, the town nearby had been recently dealing with a very dangerous problem hiding in some nearby abandoned ruins of some burned down village...."

(Cue flashback)

It's daylight as you walk down an old dirt road leading to a recently destroyed village, the townsfolk living just across the river had told you and Geralt how some vengeful bandits took it upon themselves to burn and pillage the place after some hero wannabe killed their leader with a lucky arrow to the head. The next thing they new, every wooden house had been set ablaze in the dead of night as they raced outdoors to listen to the terrified screams emitting from within the woods.

The mayor claimed it was a horrendous display of revenge, only a lucky few had survived the torment, but something even worse then petty bandits had loomed over the land in the following month, brought upon by the lingering stench of death and blood. It had begun with high pitched shrieking in the dead of night, right were the ruined village was, some brave souls would investigate the next day to find the mutilated corpse of a male traveler.

More people would go missing for another month before you, Geralt, and Jaskier happened to stroll into town one autumn afternoon. No one at the local tavern, nor the mayor herself, would know what beast was taking all the men hunting for it. So with a suspicious curiosity did you accept her offer of coin in return for the death of the mysterious beast. The next day, with lack of a certain bard, did you and Geralt set off to explore the destroyed grounds.

You kick a loose rock and watch as the little boulder skids across the muddy trail while keeping pace with Geralt, "So, any idea what this hungry fucker might be?" You ask, turning to him with a wiggle of your brow, "I have a few ideas."

Geralt hums, turning an inquiring golden eye in your direction, "Considering this place has gone to shit in the past two months, dead bodies everywhere, could be a ghoul....or a wraith...maybe even a werewolf." His voice gravely and filled with a tinge of dark humor.

You chuckle, "A werewolf huh, now that would be quite the battle to witness, me and the notorious dogman, claw to blade. I'd have its head on a spike in an instant..."

"Would you now?" He teases.

"I would!" You lean in to lightly smack his arm, "What? Don't laugh...grrr ugh okay fine....after it put me through a couple rounds, I'd get there eventually. Then you'd be there to celebrate my victory with loud cheers of praise before taking me on the grass to thoroughly show me your ever loving gratitude." You cackle as he coughs awkwardly on his own spit, sending you an surprised but very amused facial expression at your more sensual implications.

"Right then and there, in front of the headless beast?" Wonders Geralt as you nod, a smile breaking out upon his handsome face, "Y/N, you are quite the woman."

"Course I am, best thing you've got." You sass with confidence before stopping dead in your tracks at the scent of something decaying. Geralt watches in curiosity as you sniff the cool air, your scarlet irises dancing across the burnt ruins of the village now that you're both so close, you raise a brow at him, "New flesh. Someone was just recently killed."

Your feet are quick as they take you past charred wooden houses and broken glass, all the way through the mess before you stand a few feet away from a large half caved in house, its entrance gone as it stands looming over all the other destroyed ruins. You turn to Geralt, "The dead one sleeps in here, the blood is a couple days old." He nods as you cautiously enter through the broken door, your eyes adjusting to the shadowy darkness as you walk into the room.

It's one large area with a crumbling ash covered fireplace at the far middle end of the wooden structure, you walk a couple more feet before stopping, Geralt coming to a halt at your side. "Nothings here." He confirms, his eyes still looking over the ashen room.

You shake your head, a smile upon your lips at his terrible observation skills, you turn around to face him before taking his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his head towards the rafters. His eyes immediately lock onto the incomprehensible corpse of a man, or at least what was left of him, only his guts and a single arm hanging from the ceiling.

"That's lovely." Muses your Witcher bluntly as you release your touch, he lifts a brow to you, "Definitely not a wraith or a ghoul. I'm not even sure a werewolf would have done this, that is the charming work of something incredibly violent and depraved. Some creature that would not care for their victim in the slightest, and the victims...all men.." He looks to the side, trying to think for a moment, "just men. And it showed up after the burning, but then it decided to stay...now it kills for food and apparently pleasure too. Maybe this is a..."

"Bruxa." His golden eyes lock onto your causal stance, he sets a hand on his hip as you simply shrug, "I could smell the bitch before we crossed the bridge, wanted to see if you figured it out first. Wow Geralt, what a monster hunter you are, very good sleuthing work." You tease with a slow clap as he rolls his eyes, motioning for you to follow him out of the dying house so he doesn't have to spend another second in this gloomy old place.

Stepping into the daylight he turns to you, the ghost of a humored smile gracing over his lips, "I would have gotten there eventually." He sasses back, using your own words against you, "Maybe this Bruxa is a family friend."

You scoff, "I wish, these type of bloodsuckers are more feral and less elegant, they're a subspecies so I won't feel bad about killing it, not that that's ever stopped me before. But still, they're deadly cunts who kill whatever has a heartbeat, only silver will take them down." You take a step forward, pushing your pointer finger against his leather armored chest, "So you better be on your guard tonight, I'd rather not travel alone with the bard until he dies." You snort, setting your arm down once again, "Or I kill him first."

"I'll be ready." Confirms Geralt with a knowing tinge of confidence, much to your amusement at his self-assuredness, "The sun doesn't set for another couple hours, why don't we head back into town and tell our bard of the plans, hm?"

"Yeah alright." You reply, beginning to walk back the way you came, "Jask is definitely not joining us tonight. That idiot would be dead in a heartbeat, I mean seriously...these nasty bitches whole thing is appearing as harmless attractive women before...blah!" You pounce at Geralt, squeezing his muscular bicep before letting go just as quickly, "You're ass is dead. And torn to shreds like a piece of meat in a starving dogs cage, not a pleasant way to go at all."

Geralt chuckles at your dramatic antics as the two of you travel back to the town; Jaskier was luckily fine with staying behind, unsurprisingly he happened to have found himself a lady friend, who was all too satisfied once learning her new lover would be staying the night once more. Soon enough, dusk had settled over the land and you and your Witcher began the hunt.

Taking silent steps through the forest as you both walked across the beaten down trail leading into the sad abandoned village, the two of you go to stand behind a large oaken tree while your eyes wander over the broken houses. Your silver dagger clutched tightly in your hand as the other one presses against the rough bark.

Geralt's armored back touches yours as the two of you watch from opposite sides of the tree, "Y/N you hear anything?" Whispers Geralt.

"No."

"Smell anything?"

"No."

"See anything?"

"Ask me something again and I'll shove a stick up your ass."

"Noted."

Another fifteen minutes would go by before your superior hearing would pick up the supposed sound of something brushing past some leaves from the treetops across the destroyed houses. Your hand grips the dagger tighter as you listen more intently, it moves slowly, a branch creaks as it sits atop it. Then the wood creaks again, more leaves are brushed aside as you suddenly realize where this fucker is headed, the town!

"Oh, fuck." You whisper yell, not even aware that you just said that out loud.

"What? What is it Y/N, did you hear something?"

"The bitch is in the trees, she's going for town." You pause searching for your words, "Uh, be ready I'm going to lure her out into the open." You rush before taking a step forward, stopping to turn towards a confused Geralt as he studies your face, "Don't, uh...get bitten or killed. Love you, good luck."

He's left to his thoughts as you swiftly race across the muddy yard in a blur before jumping onto a half standing thatched roof, you stay low as your crimson irises scan the tree line in search of the Bruxa, it doesn't take long before you spot a beautiful pale black haired woman looking in the opposite direction as she stays perched on a thick branch. You smirk, your fangs showing in the moonlight as you decide to be as boldly annoying as you can.

Rising to your full height, you stare at the beautiful bastard before yelling, "Hey! You big ugly horse fucker!" The Bruxa immediately snaps her attention over to you, her yellow eyes glaring down at you before she turns from an attractive young woman into a terrifying lady demon.

She screeches, jumping down from her perch before making a hasty beeline in your direction, you jump, just as she narrowly misses your face with her long sharp nails. You gently land upon the muddy ground, the growling Bruxa eyeing you hungrily as she stands once again, her body facing you with great malice, lips curling in a snarl, hands balling into angry fists.

You smirk, feet planted firmly in the earth as you grip your dagger tight, "Come on you pale faced cunt, come get me." You taunt as she hisses in fury before darting in your direction, you twist to the side, slashing her arm as you skid in the dirt, facing her once more.

Her face whips around to find yours as she grunts in pain, the silver burning her skin as she charges you once more, this time you launch yourself into the air. Just as she grabs for your feet, missing them by mere inches while you quickly flip above her head, you land, facing her. But before she has time to attack you once again, Geralt races out of the tree line and slashes the back of the Bruxa with a fury enough to turn you on if not for the current circumstance. A blood curdling scream rips through the frosty air as she whips around with lightening speed, grabbing Geralt's sword less arm before thrusting him across the yard to your left.

Her feet move inhumanly quick as she follows her downed silver haired prey, instinctively you throw your dagger, it makes a strong thwack sound as it sinks into the pale flesh of the feral vampire's thigh. She stumbles back, falling to the ground as she screams in agony, all before standing up once again and keeping as still as a statue, staring you down like a wolf to her prey.

You ball your fists, not sure what to do now since your only weapon is gone, you shrug, "No hard feelings?" You jest before she growls, her feet bounding against the earth as she quickly tackles you to the ground faster then you're able to blink.

Damn, vampires are fast.

She bares her fangs doing her best to chop at your exposed skin, her hands trying to claw desperately at your everything as you hold her forearms tightly in your grasp, droplets of spit fall upon your face as you grimace in disgust. Geralt where the fuck are you? She angrily struggles in your fists as her face desperately snaps at your own, inches apart she just misses your skin, a moment later do you sigh in relief as she's ripped from your grasp and thrown across the rocky ground.

You jump to your feet, only to watch in awe as Geralt and the Bruxa fight with one another in the center of the destroyed town, she slashes and bites at him as he punches and gets in some hits with his silver sword. But soon enough does she have him on his back, his sword only a few feet away, just out of reach as she pounces on him in a fury.

Instantly she tears at his black pants, ripping them open from his lower right hipline to his knee, he kicks her away before she lunges for him once again. Geralt scoots back just as she smacks her taloned hand right where is crotch was, not even a split second ago.

"Y/N!" Shouts Geralt with wide eyes, "My sword."

Wiping blood from your nose you take swift steps forward, he braces for the worst right as you grab a fistful of black hair, yanking hard as you pull her to the ground, your other hand closing tightly around her throat as her yellow eyes expand in surprised rage.

You pin her down, squeezing tight as she squirms from beneath you, her thin muscled arms reaching for your neck as you force your face away from her sharp nails, "You get your fucking sword!"

He lets out an annoyed huff before scrambling for the fallen blade, grasping it in his strong hands as she digs her claws into your clothed arms, you yelp in pain, losing your grip on her neck. She shrieks again before you suddenly get cracked in the forehead by the bitch's own skull, you see stars as she uses this opportunity to kick you in the chest, hard. You let out a breathy gasp before stumbling backwards across the dirty path, your head falling onto Geralt's boots, he looks down as you stare up at him in a daze. Your labored breaths coming out as a wheeze.

You blink, trying to focus on his blurry physique, "Fucking ouch." You growl through clenched teeth as he hastily pulls you to your feet.

"Watch out." Warns your Witcher before leaving your side to tear into the furious Bruxa.

"Thanks for the forewarning, very helpful." He ignores your annoyed jest, conveniently slashing off the head of the damn bitch before your very eyes. He's breathing heavily as he towers over the bloody mess, golden eyes finding your irritated ones as you pick up your silver dagger, "Great work, bravo, well done." You deadpan, giving your man a less then enthusiastic round of applause.

Lowering the weapon to his side he glances down at his slashed pants before finding your eyes once again, "Almost got me." Chuckles Geralt with a small smile.

Rolling your eyes you break out into a grin, "Oh yes, then we would have really had a problem."

Yennefer snickers as you end the tale, an amused laugh falling from your lips as you sit up once again, "After that we told the town, which of course they were surprised but nonetheless ever grateful, giving us a nice bag of coin. Geralt got some new pants, Jaskier got some more writing material, and I got a solid reminder that I am not invincible when it comes to creatures like a Bruxa. Vampires, huh."

Yennefer nods, shaking her head as she smiles, "That's...more then I'd ever encountered. Better you then me." She muses.

You sigh, a small tired smile pulling at the corners of your lips, "Those were the best times though, hunting, traveling, being with those two idiots. I do miss them, a lot actually."

Her lavender irises fall upon your saddened gaze as you watch people converse happily with one another, a mother tucking her child into a makeshift straw bed, you suddenly feel much sadder then before, "You will see them again, I know it Y/N."

Shifting your scarlet eyes to her shadowed face, you lightly tap the edge of your mug, "Hopefully I won't see a Bruxa again, fucking cunts. But yes, thank you for the words of encouragement and...friendly counselling, I'm going to bed." You scoot off of the grassy ledge, standing on the soft earth as you turn to Yennefer, "Right here's good enough. Also, not to worry, I don't snore."

She watches as you lay upon the ground, others doing the same as the night progresses, deciding to follow your example she moves to lay a couple of feet from you, pulling a foresty green blanket from out of a nearby bag, "Won't you get cold?"

Laying on your back you look up at the stars, "I've never felt cold before actually."

She lays down, an amused burst of air flowing out of her nostrils, "Right, half vampire. Well, goodnight then you odd freak of nature." Playful sarcasm dripping from every word.

You lightly chuckle, "Night, you insane fucking witch." The two of you share a humorous moment together before falling into a comfortable silence, the both of you trying your best to fall asleep before the sun rises, bringing danger on the fiery horizon.

—-

You awaken to the shouting of men nearby, opening your eyelids do you raise yourself up into a sitting position as a massive fiery orange ball of light begins its decent from the great blackness of sky. Right in your very direction, you can hear it sizzling as your eyes grow wide in fear.

"Oh fuck!" You cry just as Yennefer throws her blanket to the side, reaching out her hands just in time to abruptly halt the death ball of enchanted flame before it can incinerate the whole yard of sleeping people. Her face is pained as she throws it to the left in mid-air, the tiny sun bursting into a beautiful explosion over the trees, safely away from everyone else.

In an instant are you up, both yourself and Yennefer screaming for everyone to rise and prepare for the beginning assault. The grassy grounds are covered in racing frantic bodies filled with frightful screams. Another fireball would be thrown at you all, and deflected just the same, nothing more coming about for the rest of the night. Nilfgaard keeping you all on your toes till the dawn.

Now here you are in the early hours of the morning, the sun illuminating the landscape as you follow the mages around the castle while they figure out a plan of attack. Everyone keeps low behind the walls as you'll quickly walk down some stairs, no roof to keep anyone adequately hidden.

"Stay low. We don't know what other tricks they may have." Warns Vilgefortz as you follow behind him, more mages rushing to a halt on the stone steps as you all look out over the forest in the direction that those damned flames came from last night.

"Maybe it's over." Says Triss, but you know better. This is just the beginning.

"No. Fringilla's just getting started." Whispers Yennefer.

"It hasn't been two days yet." States Sabrina, "How is Nilfgaards army here already?"

Vilgefortz gets up, "Doesn't matter. We can't wait for the Northern Kingdoms. We have to fight."

You chuckle, "There's only 22 of you left, those other cowards fled in the night like little mice chased by some housecat. Guess some heat was too much to handle." You quip as one mage stands, claiming with confidence that's he's not going anywhere, others agreeing as well. You suddenly feel uneasy, sorcery in the woods, snapping your attention over to the forest your crimson eyes go wide at the sight of white mist flowing throughout the trees, "Uh, what the fuck?"

"There coming!" Shouts a mage in fear.

"It's starting!" Exclaims another in excitement.

I hate magic.

In seconds is everyone up and moving to their assigned stations right before your very eyes. Leaving you alone to watch the strange unnatural fog slowly make its way closer and closer to the stronghold.

Times seems to go fast, in the next twenty-five minutes has the archers and people with slingshots wrecked havoc upon marching Nilfgaardian soldiers in the woods. No doubt giving them an explosive ending before their time in battle has even begun. Yennefer directs the mages assault from her position high up in the tallest tower with the best view. Your eyes shift from the nearing wood line where the real danger lurks to the grassy courtyard below where people are hustling back and forth, racing to their duties. You walk upon the castle ledges, high up above the sweating foreheads of the mages and archers as you make your way over to the tallest part of the Elven Keep. Gliding up to her level, you softly land with atop the wooden landing.

She appears quite distraught and panicky as you study her body language, she turns to you, tears in her lavender eyes, "Vilgefortz, he's..."

What is that fucking swooshing sound?

"Portal!" You shout, turning your body to look over the other ledge, just as you'd sensed, a large swirling portal has materialized from the earth. A second later do you watch in horror as arrows fly up from its center, thwacking into nearby mages and villagers. Killing them instantly.

Fearful tears fall from Yennefer's eyes as you feel a surge of rage forming within you at these grisly acts of violence. She quickly regains her bearings enough to telepathically speak to Tissaia before the heiress is cut off by something or someone in the woods. You can hear as more and more mages are being slaughtered from beyond the Keep's walls as they run to the stronghold for cover, Yennefer calls out to them but it's no use, they're already dead.

A gate has been breached!

You want to do something but you can't bear to leave Yennefer's side in such dangerous times, but hearing the screams and wails of agony from the brave people around you is enough to shift your mind. You must help them, now is the time.

"Triss! The gate! Can you buy us time?" Shouts Yennefer aloud, though you know she's speaking telepathically to Triss.

Tearing your eyes away from dying Nilfgaard soldiers and mages alike do you place a comforting hand on Yennefer's shoulder, she snaps her attention to you, almost startled, "I'll help Triss. Be careful, Yenn." She tearfully nods as you lend her a small smile in return.

Your feet move inhumanly fast as you run atop the castle roof, jumping down to the wooden balcony where the archers are, you race past them before bolting down the steps and into the grassy courtyard where a gate has been breached. Many armed villagers and a few Nilfgaard soldiers are currently fighting with one another, their swords clashing in desperate fury.

Across the courtyard is Triss who's struggling to cover the opened gate with thick vines as a couple dark armored soldiers get themselves tangled up in the process. A look of pure determination crosses your face as you unsheathe your silver dagger, your legs move quick as you take out a few soldiers on your way to aid Triss in her fight. Knowing you can't do much from behind the gate, you scale the stone wall with ease, falling to the grass below, you land atop the soft earth with the grace of a dancer.

A pained scream rips forth from Triss' throat as a Nilfgaardian soldier thrusts his flaming torch into her neck, in an instant have you sunk your blade into his skull, pulling the bastard away as you look down at Triss from behind the vines. Her screams of agony pierce your sensitive ears as she looks at you through glossy pained eyes, but the thudding of quickly approaching heartbeats alerts you to turn around.

Your scarlet irises lock with the green ones of a rushing soldier, his sword is bared as he charges you, adrenaline and hate coursing throughout his entire vessel. He swings the blade to his left in your direction, twisting around past him, you shove your dagger through his jugular and right back out again, a red spurt of blood bursting forth as a couple droplets dance upon your face.

The fresh scent is almost intoxicating, driving you into a more primal feeling, you turn with fire in your eyes to face three more ugly old bastards, weapons drawn and ready to strike. You hiss at them, bearing your fangs as pure fear flashes across their faces. In a blur do you end their pathetic lives before they even have a chance to realize what hit them. You hear another scream and race to the aid of a fallen mage, slicing through more Nilfgaardian men in a fury of blood and broken bones.

She fearfully thanks you, her eyes dazed as she carries herself to safety, though there is no safety here as moments later does your ear drums burst with the sounds of explosives shattering throughout the battlements where all the glass bottles of blue stone where being kept.

Oh, fuck.

Stones fly past your head as white smoke emits from the destruction, you can smell the blood and hear the cries of the ones most unlucky enough to be so close. No one alive is around you for the time being as you stand among the dead, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, some trickles of unfamiliar blood falling down the side of your face and hands. More red dripping off of your sharp silver dagger as you stand in the evening sunlight, the smell of smoke and blood on the breeze.

"Can anyone here me? Is anyone out there?" Calls Yennefer from inside your head, likewise to all the other mages, "If you can hear me, you need to get to the front line. More Nilfgaardians are coming to the woods. We can't give up. We can still fight." Her voice is tired and desperate, heavy with emotion as she makes a last fleeting effort to protect the Keep.

You catch her scent and the sound of her erratic nervous heartbeat as she emerges from the broken gate of vines, white fog pushing to the side as she walks into the daylight. She looks rough, her face and chest dirty, her left hand coated in her own blood from a wound at her side.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Races three unfamiliar heartbeats.

Three more men rush out off the bushes and whitish thick mist, heading straight for her, she thrusts her opened palm into the air. Twisting her hand, the men fall dead one by one at her beautiful display of chaos.

Her lavender eyes trail across the battlefield, landing on you, you're speckled with the ruby red blood of dead Nilfgaardian men. A mess of red coating your lips as a trail of it wanders down your chin to your throat from when you let yourself have a little taste of Nilfgaards finest.

You slowly walk over to her side, she swallows, her throat is dry, nonetheless you lend her a hopeful smile, "You're ability to still look this good covered in dirt and blood is honestly impressive." The tiniest of smiles gives you a small sign of hope on her face, "I've cleared this area but as you've said, more are in the woods. I can still hear them, they're close."

"Thank you." Her voice is hoarse as she lowly nods, her voice becoming distant as she looks out into the wood line, "I need to find Tissaia."

-

Tagged:  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

[keeroo92]

Breaking Point

My SFW contribution to @jackpot-dantezine, where Dante falls apart on the way to confront Urizen.

Word count: 1,909

-------

The air hung stagnant around him, oppressive and unnaturally warm. Shades of red and brown, grey and a sickening green encroached up the walls. When he called the smell, “hot garbage”, he’d been far too kind. Veins pulsated a stern drumbeat as Dante stepped forward after his two female companions. 

“Bet you both I bag the first Queen!” Lady taunted. Trish responded with a cool smirk and a quickened pace, but Dante’s mind was elsewhere.

What if it was Vergil?

Dante had his doubts, despite what the weirdo client told him. What were the chances, right? Vergil’d been gone for years, stuck in hell after their last meeting. Getting back here, let alone in good enough shape to pull off this bullshit, was a longshot.

Still. His brother had a way of popping up and causing trouble. 

The first boom of battle ricocheted off the nauseating walls, reminding him where he was and what he still needed to do. He’d better catch up. Thinking about shit wasn’t his style; killing demons was. 

Time for a good ol’ fashioned beat down, that’d get him out of this funk. 

Dante cracked his neck, hands twitching to grasp the twin handles of his beloved Ebony and Ivory. The staccato thud of his boots mirrored the thudding of his heart, hastening as he got closer to a fight.

He turned a bloody corner just in time to see Trish deal a death blow to a Hell Judecca, its skeletal arms dissolving into ash as she spun to find her next prey. Her signature yellow sparks glowed brightly from her hands, her body dashing across the blood-stained ground to strike a pair of Antenora. Show off.

“That puts me ahead by two, Lady! What, are you taking a nap?” the blonde called.

“Not even close!” Lady replied, firing her bazooka straight down the throat of a Caina.

Dante grinned and picked a target, spinning on his heel as a scythe hunted his flesh. Too easy. He twirled Ebony and shot the ugly bastard in the face behind his back. Why did all demons look like the ass end of a bad burrito, anyway?

Eh, who cared?

His heart lurched. Vergil would. When they were children, Dante’s brother never ran out of questions about the nature of demons. He’d asked everything imaginable, from how they fought to how they multiplied. 

Dante tried not to think about that part.

And for every question Vergil asked, their dad had an answer. He’d stop whatever he was doing to explain, smiling proudly all the while. Like Dante wasn’t even there. It used to annoy him, but now the memory only brought bittersweet longing. What he wouldn’t give for them all to be together again…

“Dante, duck!”

Leather snapped as Dante instantly dropped to a crouch. A stream of fire licked his flesh, a Hell Bat above screeching its displeasure at the near miss. Annoying bastard. He never should've let it get so close. 

I gotta keep it together, he thought cynically, or the girls will get on my case.

Plus, banter always helped keep his mind from visiting its darker corners.

The man in red summoned a smirk and fired a few rounds, his bullets poking holes in the bulging orange belly overhead. A sound not unlike a whoopee cushion signaled his success. Nice.

“Sayonara, sucker!” he crowed, watching as the bat’s leaking body propelled it into a wall to explode. “Let’s call that one twenty points.”

“No way, lazybones! You don’t get extra for making fart noises,” Lady called with a scowl. 

Dante raised his hands in a placating gesture as soot settled to mark the deaths of their foes. He hoped Ver- Urizen sent a few more their way; he needed to warm up before kicking the king’s ass. Maybe he should stretch, just to keep his blood flowing.

Dante sighed and shook his head. He’d never hear the end of it.

It turned out he didn’t need to worry; as the trio progressed, they encountered wave after wave of demons, all vying for fresh blood. Trish and Lady didn’t falter, picking off one after another as Dante did his best to stay on task, but his mind kept drifting back to his brother.

For decades, Dante held only anger at his twin for not being there, for forcing their mother to search for him. To a child, the immature logic made sense. If Vergil hadn’t run off, things would’ve turned out differently. Simple cause and effect.

But time dulled the blade of his rage, and a broader understanding of life took hold. Any number of choices may have changed the outcome of the attack, but obsessing over it wouldn’t change what happened.

None of them had the power to predict the consequences, or to change them. All he could do was keep fighting, and hope that by doing so he spared other families from sharing the fate of his own. 

If Dante was being honest, the constant battles tired him. His body didn’t move like it used to, and the first aches of middle age warned him it was time to slow down. He couldn’t chase demons forever, and part of him didn’t want to. It was a lot of work.

It might be time to leave it to someone younger.

Then again, what the fuck else was he going to do all day? The only thing worse than being tired was being bored.

And the thought of retiring while Vergil was still out there somewhere, doing who knew what… it didn’t feel right, as if the balance would shift to the demons and they’d go unchecked. As a descendant of Sparda that gave a shit about humanity, Dante felt a certain responsibility to bear the weight of defending them. It was what his dad would’ve wanted.

What his mother would’ve wanted.

Besides; if he didn’t, then who would? Nero sure as hell wasn’t ready, not yet. 

But above all else, if it came to a fight to the death, his brother deserved to go at the hands of his family. Someone who understood what he’d gone through and all that he’d lost. It was Dante’s responsibility, and he damn well wasn’t hiding from it. Not this time. 

The thought left a hollow ache in his chest, a bitter sorrow he desperately wished he could ignore. If there was any alternative, any chance of helping his brother instead of ending his life, Dante knew he’d take it. That he had to even consider killing Vergil showed how twisted life could be. It made him want to scream. 

“Aw, shit,” Trish said, breaking his rambling thoughts. A quartet of Nobody’s waited in the next clearing, scurrying back and forth like excited cats. Perfect timing - Dante hated these guys.

And he really needed to kill something.

He flew at the demons with a cry of fury, drawing all four to him as he pulled Rebellion out. The girls followed in his wake, but he saw nothing save the nearest mask as his blade struck home. It left a deep crack in the clay, but the prick backed off before he had the time to kill it.

He really hated these guys. 

“Lady, finish him!” he cried. The other three were already swarming him. Damnit.

He dodged a stray arm and slashed at another as a blast reached his ears. The grotesque floor shook from the force and Dante roared, unleashing a vicious series of slices at the stumbling Nobody closest to him. It whimpered and tried to back off, but he refused to let it go that easily. Rebellion’s heavy blade sank deep into the creature’s core, splattering hot blood on its fellows and its killer alike. Two down. 

Two to go. 

There were days he didn’t see the point of it anymore; no matter how many would-be demon kings he took down, there’d always be another, and the peons were even worse. Useless, feral things, their only desire to destroy and kill.

It only added fuel to the fire of his rage. He needed to get closer.

Dante sheathed Rebellion and pulled at the thread of dark energy connecting him to Balrog, summoning the metallic pseudo-armor even as he threw a powerful punch. A rapid kick followed, his feet cracking against the reddish mask of the third nobody. He’d kill it before it fought back.

But a fiery blast on his left hurled him to the side, the last demon cackling as he fell. Years of getting pummeled proved their worth as Dante rolled with the blow, using the momentum to get on his feet a beat later. He grimaced and flipped a finger at the laughing jerk. 

“Is that all you got?” he shouted. Who knew if it understood.

It screeched and slammed a limb at him, slashing at his chest. He stepped aside and brought his arms together, crushing the appendage and tugging the beast closer for a solid headbutt. He punched and kicked, again and again. Demon blood splattered his face, each drop like a balm to his wrath. The chaotic battle surrounding him faded away; it was just him and the demon and the sounds of his strikes pulverizing its desecrated body. 

“Dante?” Lady called, her voice barely piercing the fog of his anger. He ignored her and punched the Nobody in the face again. “Dante, it’s dead. You can stop hitting it now.”

How many people had this one killed? How many families did its hunger shatter? For all Dante knew, it might be the bastard that killed his mother. He punched it again.

“Dante, come on…” Trish said. 

Maybe this was the demon that left nothing but smears of blood on the playground outside. Or the one that tore through a local grocery store, or that small house where he found those god awful husks. Another punch. He didn’t notice his female companions coming to stand beside him.

“Dante, knock it off. We need to keep moving,” Lady said, her palm coming to rest on his shoulder as he pulled back for another punch. Trish mirrored her.

The edges of the creature’s face began dissolving, a fine grey powder all that remained. Dante’s panting breath sent the dust aflutter as he slowly lowered his arm. His jaw ached; had he been gritting his teeth the whole time? Fuck.

Better crack a joke, something to keep it light.

“So, that’s what, four points to me?” Dante said. Both women shot him fierce glares.

“What the fuck, Dante?” Lady began. 

He wiped away the blood still clinging to his face and sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing,” Trish chimed in. “You good?”

The red-clad man released the tendril of energy connecting him to Balrog, the blood-stained metal vanishing a beat behind. He didn’t know what to say. His rage still flickered within him, an ever present ember waiting for the right moment to flare into an inferno. It might give him an edge; it might consume him. 

Talk about a double-edged sword.

It didn’t matter what was happening in his heart or what it did to him. There was a big ass demon tree growing in his city, ugly bastards swarming the place and who knew what else. It was his job to clean up the mess, no matter who made it. 

Dante snorted. He was, in essence, a janitor. 

He cracked his neck. It was time to clean. “I’m good.”

[heavcnslyre]

ricky bowen x reader series! part two

— starstruck au!

series masterlist, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten

IN WHICH you’re dragged along to camilla’s plans to try to meet ricky bowen— but the wrong one out of the two of you ends up in an encounter with him instead.

WARNINGS a lot more swearing this chapter rather than last, you have to get stitches

NOTES this chapter is actually pretty long. i’m not super happy with how it ends but it’s going to pick up in the next chapter exactly where it left off in this one, i just didn’t want to keep adding onto this one lmaoo. also there are some parts that are lowkey written poorly but i’m tired and it’s not too bad HAHAH enjoy!

edit 1-16-21 i changed the song he was singing if u saw it before no u didn’t!!!

(y/n) - your name

text dividers from @writeyourmindaway !!

lowercase intended.

“bye ash! have a good time!” you called as ashlyn was leaving. she waved goodbye and drove away in her parents car. it had taken a couple of hours for her to be happy with her outfit and hair/makeup, but she ended up looking really nice (not that she didn’t before, she just seemed to glow when she felt prettier). as you turned back into the house, camilla grabbed your arm and pulled you into your bedroom.

“what the hell cam?” you asked as she closed the bedroom door.

“mom and dad just agreed to me taking you around the city tonight and we’re going to nini’s party,” she said, turning towards the still packed suitcases and digging through them. you watched, eyebrows raised.

“really? what’s in it for me? i’m not just going to follow you to la to stalk this poor guy.”

camilla rolled her eyes and holds a dress up against herself in the mirror. “you can meet nini, maybe. you like her music, don’t you?”

“that dress is mine. and yeah i like her music but i’m not crashing her birthday party just to meet her.”

“whatever. you can wait in the car. i’ll just.... buy you something later.” she put the dress she had down and grabbed another one.

“how about you stop talking about ricky? i’ll go if you stop.”

camilla gave you an incredulous look. “stop talking about him? have you met me? or seen him?”

“fine. at least for the rest of the trip. take it or leave it.” she sighed and paused for a second, before nodding and grabbing the first dress she had.

“alright. but i’m wearing your dress.”

after the short drive to los angeles, camilla drove around, trying to find parking. but, naturally, it was los angeles, and there was no available parking. after more than ten minutes of searching, camilla sighed in frustration and pulled over, directly next to a ‘no parking’ sign. you pursed your lips and pointed up at it.

“cam, this is very clearly a no parking zone. you’re going to get a ticket,” she ignored you and dug in the backseat for her bag.

“i’ll be back in less than half an hour. stay put. if someone tries to talk to you... ignore them. or punch them, or something. i don’t care. just be safe.”

“you too,” you said, although it came out as more of a question. she moved the mirror to face her, made a few adjustments to her hair, then left the car quickly. you sighed and sank into your seat. it was going to be a while.

after almost half an hour with no sign of your sister, you texted her a simple ‘you okay?’ but recieved no response. you fidgeted in your seat, switching between random apps on your phone, trying to pass the time. eventually, close to 50 minutes pass and you sighed, realizing that you should probably go look for her.

you wrung your hands out and grabbed your bag, opening your door quickly and rushing across the street. the street was crowded and the main entrance to the club was packed full of fans wanting to get into the building. you stood on your toes, trying to find camilla, but you didn’t see her anywhere. ready to give up, you spot an alleyway by the building. you considered it for a moment before mentally saying fuck it and walking towards the alleyway. you’re busy looking for an entrance when a door opens suddenly and you ram into it, head first, knocking you onto your butt.

“ow, fuck,” you said, rubbing your head and wincing as you saw you were bleeding.

“oh, god!” the person who opened the door exclaimed as they knelt onto the ground to be at your level. “i’m so sorry— i didn’t know you were there.”

“it’s... it’s fine,” you said. “how could you have known?”

“can i help? i might have some bandaids in my car...”

you shook your head and look up at the person. “no, it’s... wait, are you ricky—”

he put one hand over your mouth and the other on the side of your face. “i’ll give you tickets to my next concert or something if you don’t scream my name.”

you shoved his hand off of you. “didn’t have to make it sound so kinky. i don’t want tickets to your show.”

“i...i didnt—” ricky stuttered but trailed off as a car pulls up in the alley. someone comes out of the drivers seat quickly.

“ricky, what the hell is going on?” the person asked as they advance towards you quickly. the person in the passenger seat gets out shortly after the first person and walked towards you as well.

“i... i hit her with my door on the way out. should probably take her to the hospital?” he asked nervously. the person knelt next to you and you recognize him as the guy ashlyn’s talking to from a few pictures she’s shown you.

“wait, you’re—”

“(y/n)?!” the person from the passenger seat exclaimed as they approached you. your eyes widened as ashlyn kneels in front of you, putting her hand on your cheek.

“ashlyn? what the hell?”

“i was about to ask you the same thing, what are you doing here?” she asked, worry written on her face. she moved your hand to look at the mark on your forehead.

“cam forced me here, she came to meet...” you looked over at ricky. “came to meet him.”

ashlyn rolled her eyes, not looking away from your face. “of course she did.”

“wait, how do you guys know each other?” ricky asked. “and who’s cam?”

“(y/n)’s my cousin, camilla is her sister. huge fan of yours,” ashlyn explained. “i should get her to a hospital.”

“let me take her,” ricky piped up. “i was the one who hit her.”

“ricky, you’re not even supposed to be out of the house right now. imagine what the press would say if you show up with.... a girl you don’t know at a hospital. you’d never get the role,” big red said firmly. ashlyn gave him a similar look to what big red was giving.

“i know but... i should take her. it’s only fair, i hit her,” ricky said, and him and red stared at each other for a minute. “besides, she just said her sister’s here. someone needs to find her, it’d be easier to explain coming from her cousin than me.”

“she would probably have a heart attack if it came from you,” ashlyn agreed. red sighed.

“fine. but just be careful, and stay out of the light. lurk in the shadows, or whatever. i’ll see you at your house in two hours.”

“okay.” ricky said. ashlyn stood up and helped you up.

“ricky, if you do anything to her, i will kill you. be careful. (y/n),” she turned to you. “i’ll try to distract cam and i’ll meet you at grandmas. text me what the doctor says.”

you hugged her quickly. “okay, i will.”

ashlyn gave one more stern look to ricky who raised his hands in defense before walking away with big red. ricky grabbed your bag off the ground and offered an arm for you to lean on to help bring you to the car. you shook your head, telling him you were fine and climbed into the passengers seat of his fancy car. he looked around before getting into the car quickly and putting on sunglasses.

“are you like on the run from the cops or something?” you asked after a minute of silence. he lookedcat you quickly, eyebrows knit.

“what do you mean?”

“well, you were coming out of a club through an alleyway, your friend was pulling the car into the alley and you’re acting super paranoid. should i be worried?”

he laughed. “no. running from the press, more like. i’m not supposed to be out this weekend. i’m.... up for a lead in a new tv show and any press this weekend, good or bad, could ruin it.”

“then why are you out? you could have easily avoided this whole situation by staying home,” you said pointedly. he sighed.

“i promised nini i’d sing at her party. i didn’t want to let her down. and i didn’t think someone would be walking down the alleyway at close to midnight anyways.”

you scoffed. “yeah well, i was there because of you anyways. your fault all around.”

he looked over at you with the same confused expression as before. “you were there because of me?”

“not like that. don’t get your hopes up,” you said. “my sister is obsessed with you, remember? she told me to wait in the car while she went to find you. it had been a while and the main entrance was packed. i needed to find a way in.”

“so... more your sisters fault, huh.”

“yeah. i guess so,” ricky grinned at you. you gave him a small, unamused smile back and turned to look out the window.

once you made it to the hospital, a doctor came to greet you almost immediately, as there were few people there. the doctor closed the curtain around you as he did the examination and ricky sat on the other side of it. you ended up getting a few stitches but he confirmed that you didn’t have any serious damage. the only thing he suggested was to keep an ice pack on it.

“so she’s okay?” ricky asked, peeking in through the curtain. the doctor laughed.

“yeah, she’s fine. let me go grab the ice pack, i’ll be back,” he left you and ricky in awkward silence for a moment. but, it was broken by his phone ringing loudly. his eyes widened and he answered the phone quickly.

“mom? what’s up?”

you couldn’t hear what she was saying on the other end, but he seemed to tense up after every second she talked. you watched, raising your eyebrows.

“okay, alright. stall him. i’ll be there in...” he looked at the clock on the wall. “twenty minutes. okay. thank you!”

ricky ended the call and turned towards you, a sheepish grin on his face. “yeah... so we may have to take a quick pit stop before i take you home.”

you glared at him. “you’ve got to be kidding.”

he wasn’t kidding.

as soon as you pulled up to his house, you text ashlyn.

you; help ricky is kidnapping me he just brought me to his house

ashlyn; if i didn’t know ricky i would be really worried rn

you; HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW HIM???

ashlyn; pretty well we’ve hung out a few times

you; oml

you; well he’s a kidnapper. and he made me get stitches

ashlyn; no way you needed stitches? what are you gonna tell your parents?

you; no clue!!!!! do i just casually tell them ricky bowen ran a door into my face???

ashlyn; fuck they probably wouldn’t take that well. i’ll figure it out and save ur ass. hang on.

you; you’re my favorite person in the entire world

ashlyn; i know

“you coming?” ricky asked from outside the car. you looked up from your phone, not even realizing that he had been waiting.

“oh, sorry.”

“no problem,” he mumbled. you get out of the car and he lead you into his house (past his six cars). it was huge. tall ceilings, brand new looking leather furniture, huge doors leading to the backyard, a spiral staircase. if you were being honest, it was pretty close to your dream house (or, one of your dream houses). you stared at it in disbelief.

“you, a seventeen year old, live here?”

ricky doesn’t look at you. he was staring into the yard, searching frantically. “yeah. been in the industry five years now, makes you a lot of money. i guess.”

“you guess?” he didn’t answer, instead suddenly pulled you out of the view of the backyard. he looked around, sees that it’s clear, and pulled you towards the stairs.

“keep your head down for a second,”

you put your head down and walk quickly next to him. “ricky, what the hell?”

“just... hang on.”

“why the hell are you pulling me?”

“shut up for a second.”

you stared at him, taken aback. “fine.”

once you got upstairs, he pulled you into a random room.

“here’s my guest room. make yourself comfortable i’ll... be right back,”

you folded your arms over your chest. “why the hell did you bring me here just to hide me?”

ricky looked at you with wide eyes. “no, no! i’m not trying to hide you, necessarily. i just... don’t think either of us want anyone to see you.”

“harsh, but fine. go, mingle or whatever. just be quick. i don’t want my parents to be more pissed than they probably already are,” he thanked you and ran out of the room quickly. you sighed and sat in a chair in the corner of the room, pulling out your phone.

ashlyn; talked to ur parents. told them that you’re with a friend of mine because you fell and he wanted to take care of you. they’re not... happy, necessarily. less pissed than before tho

ashlyn; u still alive over there?

you; yeah. ricky hid me in his guest bedroom so he could go mingle at some party i’m assuming his parents are throwing

ashlyn; OHH yeah his parents threw a party tonight, i don’t see why he needs to be there?

you; he told me on the way here that a producer of the show he’s trying to get a role in is here and he wasn’t supposed to leave home this weekend

you; idk or at least that’s what i think he said i didn’t rly pay attention

ashlyn; aren’t you just a kind ball of sunshine

as you were typing your response, you heard a guitar strumming from outside. looking up and realizing that the balcony door was open, you decided to go see what was going on. you looked down and saw ricky sitting on a stool, strumming his guitar. he started to sing— a song you didn’t recognize. you knew most of his music (in result from camilla blasting it around the house every chance possible) but this one sounded new.

you say you gotta think it over

i can't stop thinkin' of you

is he the guy you want to hold ya

i'll be here when you need me to

you listened, suddenly intrigued. this song was nice— gentle, almost. you actually kinda liked it. and he seemed at peace as he was singing in front of these people, he seemed genuinely happy.

make you feel beautiful in the morning

light you up when the rain won't stop pouring

'cause there's a million little things I haven't told ya

it kills me every time he's with you, so

ricky made eye contact with you and his expression almost softened when he saw you watching. he smiled gently at you.

he continued the song. he seemed to be in a trance, so focused on the song and perfecting it. as you listened to the lyrics of what was obviously a love song, you sighed. it was beautiful, but you didn’t think it was appropriate for you to just be standing here watching him, as if this was a big romantic gesture in a movie. before he finished singing, you turned away and left the guest room.

you made your way down to the garage, trying to avoid anyone who happened to be inside— for both yours and ricky’s sake. you slipped into the garage quickly and before you even took ten steps inside, ricky was behind you.

“what are you doing?” he asked, a happy expression still on his face from singing. your eyes widened at his expression but you shook the feeling off quickly.

“i want to go home,”

“alright. were you planning on walking?”

you rolled your eyes. “haha. no dumbass, i was going to wait for you in here. not walking to glendale.”

he grabbed a pair of car keys from the hooks. “hey, glendale’s not that far, you’d make it there alright.”

“yeah, a teenage girl walking the streets of california at random hours of the night by herself. definitely make it there alright.”

he hummed. “you did it earlier,” he winked at you and moved to open the passenger door of his blue car for you. you got into the car and he closed the door, going to the drivers side.

“what’s your grandmas address?”

you told him the address and he pulled out of the garage, checking to make sure no one was watching, pulled out of his driveway, and drove down the street.

“so, what are you in california for?” he asked after a couple minutes of silence.

“holidays. we haven’t spent christmas with my family in a while, and california with my grandma seemed like a somewhat neutral place for us and my aunt and uncle to come to.”

“and where are you from?”

“western new york.”

ricky whistles. “completely across the country. yikes. different time zone too, right?”

“yeah. and the jet lag is an ass, i’m exhausted.”

“oh i get that. when i go on tour... i do nothing but sleep, eat, and perform.”

“that is quite the life to live.”

“tell me about it,” although he obviously meant that as a joke, there was a lining of bitterness in his tone that you picked up on. you looked over at him, but he stared straight forward at the road.

“so,” he started again, obviously eager to change the subject. “ashlyn’s your cousin?”

“mhm, has been my whole life,” you joked and he rolled his eyes playfully at you. “i had no idea you guys knew each other.”

“you didn’t know she was talking to big red?”

“i knew she was talking to a boy, she didn’t mention who he was, other than showing me a couple pictures. didn’t even tell me it was nini’s birthday party she was going to tonight.”

“oh. yeah, ashlyn’s the best. big red’s really happy with her.”

“and she seems happy with him. turn left here,” you pointed and he moved over into the turning lane. he turned onto your grandmas street and her house was the second on the right.

“thank you. for the ride,” you said awkwardly as you opened the door to his car.

“yeah, sure. thank you... for not getting too pissed at me for making you have to get stitches.”

you give him a small laugh and sit for a moment, feeling like you should say something else, but finally deciding to just leave. you said a small bye and he gave you a small wave and you rushed into the back door of your grandma’s house.

[christinesficrecs]

I needed a distraction from yet another hateful week so here we are!! With this Beach AU reclist that is obviously no longer that! 🤦🏻‍♀️  

Also, there are some 4th of July fics here if you’re feeling picnics and bbqs. And summer camp fics here if that’s more your thing. 

A (Sort of) Fairytale by briecheesie, daunt | 25.8K | Mature

The summer after senior year starts normally enough, with the gang spending their final months before college together at the Martin family's lake house. Then Jackson stumbles onto the burial ground of a witch's ex-husband, Stiles is magically turned into a fox, and things somehow manage to get worse from there. The gratuitous Princess Bride references are only of moderate help.

Kissing the Shoreline by theroguesgambit | 12K

Stiles doesn’t want just any summer fling. He wants Derek. And Lydia is determined to help Stiles get him.

The Newlywed Game by Captain_Loki | 19.5K | Mature

Stiles is (still) single when the pack's getaway to the Caribbean comes by (oh misplaced optimism); lucky for him Derek is committed to being uncommitted and even after all these years is still powerless against Stiles' unique forms of persuasion.

Cue a romantic getaway for two: sun, sand, and sarcasm abound...and the two roped into competing in the Resort's version of the Newlywed game. Only it's completely obvious it's going to end in disaster. Probably homicide.

Most probably homicide.

Plot twist: It doesn't.

Livin' La Vida Loca by jadore_hale, stomachaches | 16.3K

The one where Stiles answers a newspaper ad to be the Hale family's new pool boy and has a hell of a summer.

Wild and Reckless Breeze by GotTheSilver | 15.7K | Mature 

In which Stiles is killing time working at a bookshop, Derek buys a lot of Chuck Palahniuk and they start hanging out, much to the confusion of Scott and the Sheriff.

hey asshole by everchanginginks | 15.6K | Mature

The Hales moved in next door more than a year ago and while Cora and Stiles became fast friends, Stiles has yet to meet his best friend's big brother, Derek, who’s been attending college in New York. When Derek comes home for the summer he makes less than a stellar impression. And vice versa.

To Navigate Your Seas by alisvolatpropiis | 26K | Explicit

Derek is a beach bum/surfer; Stiles is his new neighbor. Feels ensue.

The Lawn Ranger by Snowjob | 47.8K | Mature 

In which Derek is an adolescent werewolf with a penchant for chocolate bunnies, and instead of the dream summer of lazing around the house playing video games and nibbling on his hoarded supply of easter candy his mother makes him get a job.

In which Stiles is a showoff jock with a broken arm and an embarrassing crush who can no longer push the lawn mower around the yard.

Bed Sharing For Dummies by werewolvesandarrows (nerdy_farm_girl) | 7.5K | Explicit

Scott and Kira decide they should all go on vacation. Stiles has to share a bed with Derek. He's handling it like a mature adult.

Beach Trip AU  |  Steady Like The Tide  |  tumblr ficlets

We'll Still Have The Summer by allyasavedtheday | 32.3K

He’s too busy waxing poetic in his own head about the surly – dreamy – dude holding the sign for the hotel to notice Scott already making his way over. He pauses halfway when he realises Stiles isn’t following him, turning around and eyeing Stiles curiously, “Dude, come on, the guy’s waiting.”

Stiles snaps himself into action and pushes his cart carrying his suitcases over to where Scott’s introducing himself to Stiles’ future husband.

“-And this is Stiles,” Scott is saying just as Stiles arrives next to him.

“I’m Derek,” the guy replies gruffly, folding the sign up and tucking it under his arm. “I’ll be taking you back to the hotel.”

Cutback by WonderWolf | 19.3K

Scott and Stiles are pro surfers in need of a place to stay for their upcoming competition. Out of all the things Derek expected this summer, being asked to house his brother and ex-boyfriend for one week wasn’t on the list.

i have always been the storm by stilinskisparkles | 25.2K | Explicit

"You’re all headed out to Oklahoma in a week.”

Derek snaps his head up, stares at him in horror, “No, boss.”

“Yes,” Finstock insists in a steely voice. “The NSSL have been on at us for a year about some decent exposure, and I think you’re just the team to do it.”

“I haven’t done weather since college,” Derek protests.

Boyd snorts again, presumably because he’s thinking back to the time when Derek and the weather last collided and he…. well, did the guy into the weather for a brief, wonderful, terribly foolish time. But, Boyd needs to shut up before Derek punches him on the nose.

We’ve Got Chemistry by dr_girlfriend | 17.8K 

So…” The man was at the door to a shed now. “The previous owners left everything, so I think there should be everything you need. But let me know if you need me to pick up anything, or if you prefer, you can buy it and I’ll reimburse you…”

“Everything I need?” Stiles repeated. He had obviously missed something.

“You know.” The man smiled again, a little more cautiously. He was looking at Stiles as if he were a bit mentally-challenged. “To clean the pool.”

“To clean the pool,” Stiles repeated. He looked around. Then he looked down at himself, taking in his stained shirt, cargo shorts, and raggedy Converse.

“Oh!” he said. “Because I’m the pool guy.” And that’s not what he meant to say at all. He meant to say, “You think I’m the pool guy.”

Go For The Gold (And A Few Other Things) by SpiritsFlame | 14.7K | Mature

Stiles came to the Olympics with one goal- get a gold medal. By Opening Ceremonies, he has two goals. Win a gold medal, and sleep with Derek Hale. Unfortunately for him, those two goals are equally difficult.

Show Me How We Can Escape by secondstar | 9.8K | Explicit

Stiles needed a vacation. He deserved it, after working nonstop. Australia felt like a world away from the limelight; just what he needed. He didn't expect to meet Derek, though.

I Ran (So Far) by thepsychicclam | 33.7K | Explicit

In which Stiles' summer starts off so badly he starts running, gets pelted by paint balls, and decides he is, in fact, going crazy if he willingly wants to hang out with Derek Hale.

We’ll put on a show (Scotty has to know) by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie) | 7.7K

Stiles is a stubborn asshole, determined to have fun in Europe even though Scott stays behind in Belgium because of a girl. So asking a stranger to make out with him for the ‘Gram? Totally the best decision he’s ever made, and not just because that’ll totally show Jackson (and Scott!). Shame he won’t see the guy again, though.

Mermaider by nothing_left_sacred | 15.5K | Mature

“So what you’re saying is; you’re a mermaid princess.” Erica concluded.

“Yes, clearly. That is what I am saying. Thank you for putting it so concisely.” Stiles sassed, frowning at her. He wasn’t fucking Ariel; this was so far from being a Disney movie it wasn't even funny.

Or the one where a perfectly normal Beach Vacation escalates way too quickly, because this is Stiles' life.

Slow Burn by Boy_On_Strings | 69.7K | Explicit

Derek takes the pack on a vacation to a beach. Derek and Stiles are forced to share a room after Allison and Scott claim one room and Lydia claims another for her and Jackson. This leads the two towards bonding and more.

Burn It Out by Omni | 6.3K

Everything that he was got burned out of him, turned to ash and shadow just like everyone he loved. He was hollowed out and empty, and it hurt like claws across exposed nerves.

Then, it was done.

Move A Mountain by ZainClaw | 69K | Explicit

Stiles goes camping with his friends in New Mexico after graduation where they befriend a biker gang led by Derek: a guy whom Stiles can’t decide if he will be either relieved or devastated to never see again once their week is up.

Past The Breakers by thepsychicclam | 40.7K | Explicit

Stiles and Scott get summer jobs at the exclusive Seawolf Beach Resort, and the last thing Stiles expects is to start taking surf lessons from the hot lifeguard.

[sincerelybluevase]

Careful, Madam Chapter Seven

A/N: Here it is, the final chapter! Thank everyone for being so patient with this one (the first chapter was published in June 2020, insane how time flies) and for the lovely comments; they mean a lot to me! For a gorgeous preview made by @thegirlisuedtobe, click here. Tagging @alice1nwond3rland, @need-not, @mlletina, @msmaryadmitrievna, @solattea, @halewynslady.

Maxim was the first to speak. “Steady, Mrs Danvers. You wouldn’t want to shoot me.”

Mrs Danvers did not waver. She held the gun steady. Not a muscle in her face moved so that she seemed hard and resolute to me, marble-made. “Let go of Mrs de Winter, sir.”

He released my arm with a theatrical motion, raising splayed hands in mock surrender.

“Come to me, Madam.”

I went so quickly I nearly stumbled. I wished to clutch her arm, to feel the reassuring solidness of her long lean limbs, but I was afraid of what might happen; I didn’t want to set off the gun by accident.

Maxim looked at us with hatred. His face had turned cold and masklike with it. “Now what?” he asked. “You’ll shoot me, Mrs Danvers?”

“I will if you force me, sir,” she said.

“And then what, Mrs Danvers? What happens then? Have you thought about that? Should you kill me, you will hang; the law won’t take pity on you for being a woman. They’ll string you up by that thin neck of yours until you are dead.”

“They won’t if they know what you are, sir.”

“And what am I?”

She glanced at me, at my reddening cheek. “A murderer and a wife-beater.”

He laughed coldly. “That’s no reason to shoot me, now is it, Mrs Danvers? I think you and I and the law can all agree on that.”

“It is if you provoked me, if you threatened your wife and unborn child, sir.”

The laughter petered out. Still he smiled, showing his sharp canines. “You’d have to aim well then, Mrs Danvers, and kill me with one shot, because if you leave me well enough to talk, you’ll be done for. Who do you think the police and lawmen will believe: me, a gentleman with an impeccable reputation, or you, a mad, old, sexually-frustrated maid with unnatural tendencies?”

I wished to speak so I could defend her, but fear held me in its grip, petrifying and silencing me.

Mrs Danvers set her jaw and tightened her grip around the gun. “I’m a good marksman, sir. If I aim to kill, I shall.”

“Perhaps,” Maxim jeered, “but are you certain? And are you absolutely certain that, even if you kill me, you won’t go to prison? They’re harsh places, prisons. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a cold, damp room, with only a strip of sky to remind you of what lies outside?”

Still Mrs Danvers held the gun steady, her joints seemingly locked into place. “Here’s what men like you don’t understand,” she said softly, “I gave the best years of my life to your first wife; I’m willing to lay down what years remain to me for your second.”

My love for her made a pain rise in my throat. I swallowed against the tears. I looked at Maxim, thinking he would refute her or curse at her. He did no such thing. Instead, he began to yawn, making a great show of it, his mouth opened so wide I could see the fillings in his molars. When he was done, his eyes watered. He brushed the tears away with a fingertip, then turned to me. “You shall stop this nonsense right now,” he said. He spoke as if I was a naughty child.

I shook my head. I could not speak.

A vein at his temple began to throb. I could see it jump around under the skin, writhing like a worm. “Oh, but you shall. You shall stay here, with me, and we shall forget this moment of madness. Mrs Danvers shall have to go, of course, no sane man would keep a housekeeper who pulled a gun on him, but I shan’t press charges. I’ll even give her a good reference. A woman with her qualities can work for any fine family in England. But you, my little darling, shall remain here, by my side, as my wife and the mother of my children.”

“No,” I whispered.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I don’t want to stay.”

He laughed in disbelief. “You don’t want to stay? Do you understand what you’re saying? Before you met me, you had no friends or kin, money, no prospects. You were an old lady’s plaything, her little whipping boy. I raised you up out of darkness. I gave you a name, a house, a reputation to uphold. Without me you have nothing and you are no one, just a grubby little schoolgirl with bad nails and a name no one can spell. Do you hear me? You are nothing!”

“She won’t be nothing. She’ll be my mine,” Mrs Danvers said.

With a roar, Maxim lunged at her. She pulled the trigger, but he knocked the gun out of her hand. The shot went wild, the bullet damaging one of the plaster leaves on the ceiling, causing crumbs to rain down dryly. The gun fell to the floor, skidded, came to rest not a step away from me.

Maxim punched Mrs Danvers in the face, once, twice, thrice. Her head snapped back. She staggered. Blood poured down her mouth and chin. She made a soft choking sound, coughed. Drops of blood flew from between her lips.

“Stop!” I meant to scream it, but it came out as a whisper.

Again Maxim struck her. This time she stumbled and fell, her skirts billowing around her like black sails. He bent over her and continued to beat her. His fists came down on her face and throat again and again and again, dull slaps of flesh against flesh.

“Maxim! Maxim, stop! You’ll kill her!” I screamed. The sound carried, though for all the good it did, I might well have kept my tongue; Maxim continued to brutally, systematically beat Mrs Danvers. She tried to sit up to fend him off, but he pushed her down. Again she rose, again he beat her down.

As a child, I had witnessed our cat playing with a mouse. It would let it run, only to smack it down with its paw before it could get away. The mouse didn’t stand a chance, yet it persisted hopelessly, just as Mrs Danvers would persist in trying to sit up until she could rise no more.  

There was only one thing to do. I bent down and took hold of the gun. It was still cool despite Mrs Danvers’ grip. I raised it and found it surprisingly heavy for its size; it almost slipped out of my clammy hand. With one eye closed I aimed the gun at Maxim, but I was shaking and dared not fire for fear of hurting Mrs Danvers.

I brought the gun to my temple instead. “Maxim, look at me,” I shouted. “I’ll kill myself! I’ll kill myself and your unborn child if you don’t stop!”

He looked over his shoulder. His face was spattered with blood, his lip curled into a snarl. He let go of Mrs Danvers’ dress, causing her to thud to the ground, and came to his feet. “Don’t!” he said. “Don’t you dare!” He stumbled to me, his hands outstretched to wrest the gun from me.

I pointed the gun at him, closed my eyes, and shot.

*

All of this happened many years ago. My life now is very different from the one I led at Manderley. I’ve said goodbye to England and now have no estate to call my home, no husband to lord over me. Here, my name means nothing, and my face, once plastered over every English newspaper, is just another face, easily forgotten. No one need know that I once was the second Mrs de Winter, the one who everyone knows because she killed her husband. An act in which she was justified, of course, since he had murdered his first wife and now wished to kill her, too, before putting a bullet through his own brain, but that never made the case any less sensational. Whenever I think of it – which, when I am honest, is seldom but still too often for my taste – I can’t help but smile wryly. After all, there is a cruel sort of irony to the whole affair; Maxim killed Rebecca to safeguard Manderley’s reputation, but her murder proved to be the first link in a chain of events that would lead to a nationwide scandal. If I close my eyes, I can still see the reporters pressed against the gates, pen and notepad in hand, clamouring to see me.

There are no reporters in my new life. They do not know where I am, and to the local ones I am of no interest. I live in a cool little cottage, painstakingly paid for with the money I earn with my drawing lessons; I have given away everything I inherited upon Maxim’s death, for I never desired his money even before it became tainted with murder and madness.

Every day is much the same, but that I don’t mind. There’s comfort in familiarity, safety in routine, and after all that we’ve lived through, Danny and I have a certain hankering for comfort. Besides, raising a child together provides plenty of challenges and excitement, we’ve found.

Dear Danny. She’s wonderfully patient with me. I fear I am not always easy to live with. For all my efforts, I’ve not been able to banish the past completely. It still inhabits and possesses a part of me, one that I can fight when awake but must succumb to in slumber, so that, at night, I walk the grounds of Manderley once more. In my dreams, the house and grounds have fallen victim to rot and ruin. The lawn has gone to seed, sickness has turned the chestnut tree into a bleached husk, and the rhododendrons have reared to the fantastic heights of fairy-tale briars. The house itself sags to the side, its walls pockmarked by sour rain, the windows dirty and broken.

But for all its neglect, it is not uninhabited. I do not talk of the birds and bats roosting in the rafters, nor of the mice living underneath the floorboards and the silverfish who slowly eat away the wallpaper.

The library, with its masculine smell of leather and smoke and newspaper ink, is his domain in death as it was in life. There, he paces up and down, up and down. All that pacing has worn the carpet to threads. Each night I must go to him. It does not matter that I am unwilling; my mind and feet betray me, and take me to him. He knows that I am coming and awaits me with impatience, smoking cigarettes in quick succession, littering the ground with ash and butts. His face, once so handsome in a peculiar, medieval way, is ruined by the shot that killed him. It turned his left eye to pulp and smashed the orbital bones to pieces so that the area around the eye is curiously dented.

There must have been no time for Maxim to realise my betrayal; the bullet bored itself into his brain, killing him instantly. The Maxim of my dreams, though, gives me an amused, cruel little smile. Then – just as my life has become routine, my dreams have, too, and so this next moment never varies – he opens his arms to me. I don’t want to, but I must step into his embrace. He pulls me close to him until my head rests against his chest, against the fabric of his tweed jacket turned sodden by blood and the jelly leaking from his burst eye.

“My little love,” he murmurs as he strokes my hair, his breath stinking of the grave, “you didn’t think you’d ever be free of me, now did you? I shall never let you go.”

It is then I wake, gasping and sobbing.

Danny aims to soothe me, kissing my face and folding her long arms around me. I cling to her so tightly it must hurt. She’s no longer as strong as she used to be. No one would be after what Maxim did to her. He damaged her left eye to the point of blindness. During the years, it has turned milky white. She has taken to wearing a velvet eyepatch over it to keep out the light, for even the flame of a candle upon her left eye can trigger a mighty headache. Even covered up it pains her, but she never complains.

She holds me well after the shaking has subsided, kissing my hair. I kiss her throat in return, her chin, her cool sweet mouth. I always hesitate when I reach the scars Maxim left on her face. He embossed her cheek with his signet ring, the M and W intertwined. Yet whenever I hesitate, she brings her mouth to my ear. “No need to be careful, Madam,” she whispers, and then I know.

I have someone in this world to call my own.

I have someone to love.

[trashbunnywrites]

Fix you hisoka x reader

Tw: hisoka

Many people wanted a part 2 so here it is ^^

Part one

:readmore:

When you try your best, but you don't succeed

When you get what you want but not what you need

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse

The smell of bleach and blood covered your nose. The empty white walls glared at you. Something woke you, what was it again ? Putting your hand on your baby in confusion trying to remember why you were here in the first place. The feel of the rough sheets and empty stomach made you jump.

“MY BABY”

You screamed in a hopeless cry. You’re alone here , does that mean you lost your baby ?

Your body screamed in pain , but the pain your chest was stronger. Pulling all the cords off of you as you jumped , looking for you baby.

Your legs screamed in protest as you collapsed, how long have you been here ?

“MY BABY. GIVE ME MY BABY”

Screamed of grief echoed as running was heard. You were a sobbing mess. What happened while you were out ? The baby was early but they have to be okay.

“Ma’am please calm down your baby is fine.”

A gentle yet firm hand tried holding you up from the floor. You were inconsolable, if the baby was fine then where are they ?

Being pulled up by firm hands like a princess. They tears blur your vision. Being lowered to the bed as your carrier held your face firmly facing him. Wait , you know him ?

“She’s okay , you have a healthy baby girl and she’s near the nurse went to get her”

“..... k …. kastro?”

And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something, you can't replace

When you love someone, but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

You’ve never thought you’ll be the happiest you ever were by hearing a child cry. Breaking eye contact with him and landing your eyes on the small bundle in the nurse’s arms.

Once placed in your arms , you hugged her close as your tears slowly returned. Her crying stupid as her golden eyes looked at you in curiosity.

You felt yourself giggle as you touched her with your thumb. She looked like him , but she was yours. That curious loving look. She’s perfect.

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard the strongest female fighter was carrying that bastards child”

“Hmmmm”

You were too focused on the Angel in your hands to actually care about what he was saying. Her sweet precious face. Smiling at her , her chubby cheeks raised as she smiled back at you. Kissing her face feeling an intense love for this little creature.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t know about her , if he did he would’ve been here wanting to train her so he can fight and kill her later.”

Every single cell in your body froze. Looking up at him in wide eyes as you hugged your little princess close to you. Activating your aura as a warning.

“Calm down , I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He quickly dismissed waving his hand.

“I want to kill that pretentious bastard and I need your help. I’m assuming you’d want him dead as well”

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Rehabilitation was hard , everything in your body screamed in rejection but you didn’t stop. When you returned home , all you wanted to do was lay down and sleep but you didn’t.

Everything in you wanted to protect your baby girl. Your new purpose in life. She made your day brighter , her sweet smile , musically laugh , and even her loud cries.

Magie was her name , which means magic in German. Hisoka called himself the magician and magie was his best work to ever exist.

On weekends you and kastro train over and over again. You were rusty and he needed someone he can trust to perfect his new hatsu. One he’s sure to take down hisoka. He was strong but needed help on other aspects like conjuring.

You weren’t sure he’d succeed so you practiced your own new hatsu. You know kastro wants to take down hisoka , but you can’t trust him with this. As much as you wanted to , you couldn’t. It’s your own way of protecting yourself and magie from him. You’re not taking chances.

Even if he was warming his way into your heart , magie will always be your number 1.

And high up above or down below

When you're too in love to let it go

But if you never try, you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Returning to your former glory and even beyond that , was the result of all the training you did. The months of hard work and sparring with kastro made the time move quick. He was a stable in your life now.

Training and returning home together , spending time since you both live in heaven’s arena. Him helping with magie and cuddling after exhausting yourselves. it was perfect.

Your status was unknown and you were too much of a coward to ask. You liked this , you were happy.

Standing near kastro as he was preparing to finally have his fight with hisoka , your hand clinched at his robes as his name was called. He looked at you Questionably.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Your eyes cashed down as you heard him chuckles. Fingers raising your face to his as soft lips pressed against your own in a chaste kiss.

“When I return let’s have dinner , my treat”

He winked as your cheeks felt warm. Walking away you had to stop yourself from dragging him back. What’s with this need to make him stay ?

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Your screams got lost in the audience cheers. No no no no no no no ! This can’t be happening !

Seeing kastro lose his cool as hisoka exposed his trick and getting punched in the chin , made you run towards the front.

What can you do ? You had no idea but the needs to be closer to him was strong. To somehow help him. The audience were crowding the front but you fought your way.

Your heart erupted in anguish seeing the man you just had feelings for fall in front of your eyes.

“You’ll die in a frenzy dance”

The smug sultry voice of the redhead echoed in your mind. Why is he ruining your life again ?! He walked away as the medics went to carry your close to be lover body away.

Returning to your home was painful , the sight of magie made everything feel a little better. You’re not alone , you have your child. Your precious adorable baby girl.

carrying her and singing , as your tears fell and heart broke. She was everything you needed. Even if you lose anymore , as long as she’s with you you’re okay.

Tears stream down your face

When you lose something, you cannot replace

Tears stream down your face and I

Tears stream down your face

I promise you, I will learn from my mistakes

Tears stream down your face and I

Fighting was all you ever did. You were good at it. Thanks to kastro you became even better. Being known as someone who raised from the ashes made your story even more poetic.

Too many challengers came and went , as you stood on the top with other floor masters. It was exhausting and satisfying.

Walking away as the people cheered , you raised your head high. You’re a fighter , a survivor , and you refuse to lose anymore.

“Such a sweet tasty thing , how come we never talked before ❤️?”

The voice of your nightmare made you turn around. A similar face to your child yet so different. The face you used to love so much before and now you feel nothing.

“What do you want ?”

He walked towards you as you kept your ground and maintained eye contact. You refuse to bend again.

“My such a scary look ♦️ have we been together before ? You look so familiar ♠️ “

“Do you need anything ?”

“Dinner would be nice ❤️”

How dare he ? You were enraged. How dare he forgets about you after leaving you like that , kills your lover , and asks you out like nothing happened ?!

“You can always eat shit asshole”

You said between gritted teeths as you gave him your back. You felt him activating his aura as you did to yours. You felt him throwing his bungee gum at you.

“What the …? ♠️ “

You heard his confused voice , as his aura fell instead of sticking to you.

“You like it ? It’s my new hatsu I call it, stiff hate : saffola oil it has properties of water and oil”

Your voice was dripping with sarcasm and mocking as his face went through the five stages of grief in front of you.

Walking away laughing loudly as he unleashed his bloodlust. It felt so good you couldn’t help yourself. The amount of times you dreamt of this moment. You rendered his hatsu useless and he knew it.

He can attempt to fight you , but you refuse to accept anything to do with him. You have a child to protect and as much as you’d love to punch him you can’t.

Magie is your priority.

A shadowed figure appeared while you were enjoying your victory blocking your view.

Who ?

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

“Can you autograph my book?”

You looked at the gentleman in front of you. He was holding a suspicious looking book , with a hand imprint on it.

You felt a presence near when you talked to hisoka , was that him ?

Grabbing his pen and autographing the pages refusing to touch the cover. You saw his face as his brows knit trying to get you to hold the book , something is wrong with that book after all.

Handing back his pen you smiled at him as he looked at you with a fake smile of his own.

“You were really amazing out there ! I heard you can defeat hisoka’s special magic. Is that true ?”

“You saw me do it, stop pretending you’re a fan. Also , next time you want to act like a normal audience member dress as one”

You pointed at his black on black leather outfit that made you think of your teenage emo phase. His hair was slicked back and a weird tattoo on his face. Did he honestly think you’ll be fooled by his words when he looked like that ?

He chuckled as his grey eyes assisted you with intelligence.

“Many fell for it , but I guess you’re a lot smarter than them. I’m staying here for a fight soon , I hope it’s not the last time we run into each other. I’d hate to lose a chance with a pretty and smart lady like you”

You felt yourself laugh , wow is he hitting on you ? What’s with you and attracting all sorts of weirdos ?

“Kill that clown for me and I’ll gladly marry you if you want let alone seeing each other”

You said laughing. Something in his eyes darkened as he smiled wider.

“It’s a promise.”

[faunusrights]

Citrus Summers (GWS AU)

just had this idea nip into my head... i really wanna do more with menagerie and the scarlatina fam but for now have this lil snapshot of velvet growing up :)

great weiss shark au, weiss's pronouns are she/her, velvet's pronouns are she/they

###

"So, what was your hometown like?"

Velvet's used to Weiss's interest in her life; they come from two radically different ends of some bonkers spectrum of lifestyles, where one end (Velvet's) is radical self-acceptance, anti-cop sentiment, and a Scroll full to bursting with communist memes, whilst the other end (Weiss's) is... well, to be honest, Velvet doesn't like to think about what that end entails, exactly. All she knows is that it was exactly what a young shark Faunus without any clue as to her heritage didn't need. So, Velvet entertains her with stories of growing up in the deserts of Menagerie, of her time running along the trash-strewn beaches of Kuo Kuana, of her years shooting up like a weed under the relentless freckling kisses of the bright and vibrant sun.

Sometimes Velvet can tell she can't quite wrap her head around how different their lives are, yet have somehow ended up on such an intersection as to be able to call each other friends. Velvet just goes with the flow about it all.

"Well, we didn't have a hometown, really," Velvet starts, attention half-drawn to sets of plans scattered about her desk in her dorm. She's got big plans to improve Anesidora's projector and fix the information compression problems; drawing a flat 2D image into a 3D projection has always been a sticking point, but she's nearly got it down to the extent that her wireframe tests very nearly reveal the dents and dings and imperfections that it'd previously ironed out by mistake. Accuracy is key, and she crawls ever closer to a perfect 1-to-1 copy each and every day. It's just really boring work, is all. "We lived outside of the nearest town by a couple of miles, but we went there pretty regularly, so I guess you could call it that."

Weiss hums, letting herself fall back onto Velvet's unmade bed, the handwoven blankets of orange and black brought straight over from the homeland and still gritty with red dirt to prove it. "What's it called?"

"Desert Sands. Very original, I know."

"You know a lot of the people there?"

"Shit, they trade us meat and gas for potatoes and carrots and tomatoes, not to mention almost everyone there immigrated in a group with my grandparents. I know that town like my own family."

"What's your favourite thing there?"

That pulls Velvet up short, and she worries at her bottom lip as she stares as a variety of absolutely godawful equations. Thank the maidens Weiss has given her something meaty to say, because she can't bear the idea of redoing all this horrible maths. "Uh, probably the inn, as everyone else who lives there would say. Can't go wrong with a good old fashioned pint and a few rounds of pool."

"Even as a kid?" Weiss says, and Velvet can hear the raised brow even though she can't quite see it.

"Even as a kid," Velvet agrees. "My mam had a couple of pints and my da flirted with the guys and I'd go out with my siblings to meet our friends and raise a little hell. Not very often, but often enough."

Weiss goes sort of quiet, in a way that Velvet recognises as an intensive processing of what she's just heard. She wonders, briefly, if Weiss can even imagine that sort of freedom after a childhood spent locked in the same old rooms of the same old house--even when it's as big as the Schnee manor--and then pushes that thought away. If Weiss wants to ever get into all that, it'll be in her own time.

"Describe it to me?" Weiss asks in a very little voice after a few seconds, and Velvet nods. She can do that. She remembers those halcyon days like they were yesterday.

###

"Trench, I swear, if you don't repaint those window sills I'm gonna sneak down here and do it myself, asshole."

This was about as typical an entry as Taffeta Scarlatina could ever make, shouldering open the dark wood door into the Desert Sands Inn with a grin on her face and children in tow, Ash bringing up the rear and trying to pretend he couldn't see everyone turn in their seats to look to the new arrivals. It was one of those establishments with a big boxy interior and just a handful of rooms to the side, where the only three doors led into the toilets and the kitchens and the stairwell to the rooms above, and much like everything else on Menagerie, nothing ever matched; the doors had been collected from a variety of sources, the floorboards uneven and scratched and recut, the paint on the walls patchy with mismatched shades and covered with picture frames in some last-ditch attempt to hide it. No two stools matched, no three tables carved by the same hand, but that was the price of the community effort--everything you ever needed, maybe just not in the way you always expected.

"Taffeta," Trench greeted from behind the bar, turning to fetch a pair of glasses without prompting whilst making sure not to jostle the hanging bottles overhead with his great buffalo horns, split like a strange middle parting on the top of his head. "You're welcome to it, to be frank; Cinna doesn't have a clue where she's put the paint, last we saw it."

Taffeta rolled her eyes, letting go of Velvet's hand to pat her between her ears instead, the ten year old quick to laugh and duck away. "I'm sure. Not at all like I said I have some lying around the last three times I was here. You really that scared of scraping all that flaking paint off?"

"Well," Trench said after a moment, leaning under the bar for a second. "I did get some in my eyes last time, and boy, that hurted. You want your usual?"

"Pint of porter for me, and something weak for my pretty boy, lest he forget which way is up," Taffeta agreed, shooting a wink Ash's way and cackling when he blushed. "And some juice boxes for the kids?"

Trench didn't even pause, turning about to fish out a variety of colourful cartons adorned with a collection of cartoon characters, and Taffeta lifted Velvet up to plop her onto one of the few cushioned stools, Chiffon quick to use her older, longer limbs to scramble her own way up. Trench offered the drinks out freely, letting them decide between orange and passionfruit flavours, before noticing the new addition on Ash's hip. "Oh? This the newest Scarlatina?"

Satin--hardly a year old--was clinging to her da's loose shirt, dark eyes looking about in wonder, and Taffeta smiled before reaching over to brush her loose, light hair out of her eyeline. "Sure is. Gettin' real big already, so we thought it was high time to meet the folks around here. She won't be the last, though." At that, Taffeta leant across the bar, dropping her voice low. "Would you believe me if I said Ash is already askin' for the next one?"

"Slander," Ash shot back, face still pink. "I just said four is a rounder number than three."

Trench made a face, glancing pointedly away. "My girl woulda mounted my horns on the wall for that one. We had just the one and she swore off the rest before I could even consider it. Count yourself lucky."

"Cinnamon's a good kid," Ash offered, rearranging Satin to sit a little nicer in his lap. "I think that all worked out in the end."

Taffeta rolled her eyes, watching as Velvet picked the orange juice for herself, leaving the eldest to the passionfruit. "Doesn't that imply we have so many 'cause you don't think just one was good enough? Chiff's a darling, if a bit of a pain in my ass, huh, baby?"

Chiffon ignored them both to instead help Velvet punch the straw into the carton, and Ash grinned. "Just one was perfect, but you told me yourself that you don't think I know when to fold."

"You don't," Trench interjected, pouring out a pint of something dark and bitter enough to linger on the tongue. "When we played poker last year... phew. Thank the maidens it was a couple's night, else you woulda been walking home absolutely stark--"

"--drunk," Taffeta quickly interrupted, glancing towards the kids who stared back with wide eyes. "Been walking home absolutely stark... trashed. Wasted. Uh, Trench, what's on the menu today, whilst it's on my mind?"

As they discussed the menu (Taffeta eager to point out the contributions of the family crops, asking, overly sweetly, and who traded you those lovely chickens? they must have been very generous), Chiffon turned to Ash in her seat, legs swinging freely, bumping into the overly-varnished wood of the bar. "Da? Can me 'n Velv go out and play?"

"Sure can, kiddo," Ash said, though he was quick to grab Chiffon's arm before she could throw herself off the stool with the straw still in her mouth. "Woah, take that out first before you end up swallowing it. You remember the rules?"

Chiffon nodded, face cast all seriously. "Don't go outta town. Be back before dark. If someone tries to bully us, punch 'em in the nose."

"And?" Ash added, drawing his brows together.

Velvet chirped up. "Cops aren't friends!"

At that, Ash broke out into a grin, as bright as Velvet's and twice as toothy. "That's right. You go have fun, and don't eat too many snacks; we're having dinner here before we go home."

Chiffon slid free of her stool, turning about to help Velvet down too, and then the pair scampered towards the door with a harmonised yes da! before pulling it open to the main road outside, the sunlight blisteringly bright, the sky an endless, cloudless blue overhead. The paint on the windowsill peeled off and flecked away, and under their shoes, the ground crunched.

Everything tasted of oranges.

###

Weiss sits silently.

"Did you get back before dark?"

Velvet snorts, sitting back in her chair until it creaks dangerously below. "Just about, though my mam didn't look all that impressed. Still, can't do much about it; we didn't even have, like, landline calls back then, let alone Scrolls and shit."

Weiss laughs to herself, rolling over and tucking her legs up onto Velvet's bed until she's curled atop the blankets, running a thumb over the wool quietly, repetitively. Truth is, they still smell of Menagerie, of home; Velvet could wash it a thousand times, but the earthy scent of hot summers and prickling scrublands sticks like its own aura.

"I'm jealous," Weiss says simply, and then she draws the blankets up to partly cocoon herself, tight across the ribs, loose about the ankles. "Will I... would you show me it, sometime? If I went there?"

It's sweet. Velvet wishes she could travel through time and show it to Weiss from the start; she wishes she could have told her what she would have, in the future. Look, see? This is real. You can have this too. Happiness doesn't only exist for people far away; you get to feel this, too.

"Of course," Velvet says with a smile, instead. "Bold if you to think my parents don't demand they meet every single last one of my friends."

Weiss grins back, all shark-toothed and sharp, and Velvet likes how it looks on her face. It took her team months to eek it out of her more often than every couple of weeks, but now, it's practically daily. "I'm afraid the offer doesn't extend back to you."

"Thanks the maidens," Velvet says, very seriously. "Because if I ever meet your dad, I'm setting his car alight."

[gracegriller949]

Shining Devotion

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: DinLuke, Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin

A/N: Read the full fic on Ao3 here

Chapter 6

“We don’t have much time,” says Luke, turning away from the opening of the hangar.

Mando nods and walks over to the side of the hangar. He bends down, careful not to jostle the sleeping Grogu in the sling around his neck and runs two gloved fingers on the ground, covering them in dirt. He taps his helmet, inspecting the floor.

“Luke, come see this.”

Luke hasn’t gotten very far. In fact, he watched Mando the entire time, pretending to examine some panels near the wall on the opposite side of the hangar. He walks over to the Mandalorian’s position and looks at the floor.

“This floor moves,” says the Mandalorian. “There’s something underneath it.”

Luke’s eyes widen. He scans the ground and sure enough, under all the dirt and debris, there’s a long line stretching from the back of the hangar to the front. Luke bends down and traces the line along where the Mandalorian did.

“What’s under there?”

“I’m not sure. Can we get it open?”

Luke stands up and looks back over his shoulder at the panel that he was pretending to look at earlier. He strides over to it quickly, his heart thudding in anticipation. Once he reaches the panel, he tries every button he possibly can, but the floor doesn’t budge. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy-- someone would have done it already.

The Mandalorian is scanning the walls next to where Luke fusses over the panel, his fingers running along the seams of the wall.

Luke gulps at the sight of the Mandalorian’s gloved fingers running over the smooth surface.

Despite his best efforts over the last few weeks to repress his feelings for the Mandalorian, his feelings have only grown stronger. He knows that Mando has to leave eventually. There’s a whole planet counting on him, after all.

Luke feels the familiar pang of guilt at his selfishness of wanting Mando to stay there, but he knows that it isn’t possible. He’s just going to have to enjoy the time that they have now-- however short that time might be.

Just then, the Mandalorian moves some vines to the side and knocks loudly on the wall.

Hollow.

He takes a step back, tucking Grogu behind him in the sling before punching into the wall. Luke takes a step towards him, his eyes wide as he peers into the compartment that the Mandalorian just discovered. There’s a single button, cracked, but still glowing. Luke and Mando look at each other once before the Mandalorian hits the button.

The floor below them shutters and the entire building quakes with the effort as the two halves of the floor begin to slowly slide open. Luke and Mando step forward as they watch the gaping hole appear before their eyes. Dust pours from the ceiling and Luke swears he sees some new cracks forming all around the room. Once the doors are completely open, the two men walk back to the edge of the hole and peer into the abyss below.

Except it’s not an abyss, it’s a ship. A big ship.

Luke’s jaw drops and his heart thuds. They did it. They found a ship. Luke looks over at the Mandalorian. His hands are opening and closing and his helmet stays trained on the ship below.

“That’s a VCX-100,” he says.

Luke can hear the excitement in his voice, however slight it might sound to the untrained ear.

“How are we going to get it out of there?” Mando asks, scanning again for a solution.

“I think I can help with that. Go stand next to the button. Press it when I say so.”

The Mandalorian seems skeptical for a second but walks over to stand next to the button and waits for Luke’s orders.

Luke stands next to the hole and closes his eyes, taking a few long, deep breaths and shaking out his hands slightly. He draws on his connection to the Force and focuses his thoughts on the ship below him.

He puts his hands out and starts to lift.

The amount of concentration it takes for him to lift the ship is exponential. Luke feels himself faulter slightly about halfway up, but he recovers quickly. The ship hovers just above the ground as Luke yells “Now!” to the Mandalorian behind him. Mando slams his fist on the button and the doors begin to close achingly slow. Luke screams as he continues to hold the ship in the air before dropping it onto the platform as the doors finally slide closed. The hangar rumbles slightly as the ship thuds to the floor.

Luke breathes heavily, resting his hands on his knees and slowly wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead before turning around to face the Mandalorian who is already walking towards him. Mando stops for a second and looks at Luke, awestruck. Luke smiles at him winningly.

Suddenly, Mando is closing the distance between them rapidly, one hand on the bottom of his helmet. Once he reaches Luke, he places his other hand on the back of Luke’s head and lifts his helmet to kiss him fiercely.

Luke is so startled that he trips backwards into the ship. The Mandalorian keeps him from slamming his head into it by holding the back of his neck.

After he recovers, Luke tries to latch his lips back onto the Mandalorian’s, but just like that, Mando pulls away from him just as fast as he approached him, his helmet returning to its usual position.

“Mando, I-- “

“We should go. The kid needs dinner,” interrupts the Mandalorian, turning away from Luke.

As if on cue, Grogu pops his head out from the sling and starts making distressed sounds that Luke knows means the little womp rat is hungry.

Luke nods even though the Mandalorian still has his back turned to him. He touches his lips deafly, still feeling the remnants of the Mandalorian’s kiss there.

Luke’s mind is racing, and his heart is galloping right behind it. What just happened? Luke feels a little lightheaded, but whether that be from raising the ship or the events that transpired afterwards, he can’t tell.

He gathers his strength and with a big sigh, Luke follows the Mandalorian who is now waiting at the back of the hangar waiting for the lift. The lift beeps dully as Luke takes another look at the ship he raised from the depths of the hangar and rubs the back of his neck with his hand as he steps onto the lift.

-

They walk in silence all the way home, Mando staying a short distance in front of him.

All the while, Luke is trying to rebuild the puzzle that is the Mandalorian back in his head. Has he really been that oblivious this whole time? Was the kiss a fluke? Why did the Mandalorian take off his helmet?

On the trek back, there are many times that Luke opens his mouth to say something to the Mandalorian, but always ultimately decides to stay silent. If Mando doesn’t want to talk about it, then neither does he.

But also, it’s just so incredibly frustrating. Just when Luke thinks he’s got him figured out, something new comes around that surprises him. The mystery of the Mandalorian seems to be a never-ending train of questions with no answers. Or more accurately, there are answers, the Mandalorian just isn’t so willing to give them up.

By the time they get back, Yavin Prime is dimming overhead meaning nightfall is quickly approaching. Without a word, Mando slips into Luke’s hut, most likely to get food for Grogu who whined all the way back.

Luke hesitates to go into the hut. He’s not sure that he can face Mando right now. Instead, he sits down in what has become one of his most favorite spots in the galaxy: a log. It’s the log that sits in front of the fire pit, its twin sitting in parallel just across the collection of ashes and charred wood.

Almost every night, Luke and Mando sit here across from each other, usually in easy silence. Sometimes Mando will get Luke onto the topic of the war, and they trade stories of their past adventures. Other times, they’ll discuss the limited information that Leia has provided for them thus far.

Luke grabs the tube of fire paste sitting nearby, groaning slightly at its dismal contents. They’ve been hurting for supplies for a while. Luke’s been putting it off for as long as he can, knowing that the New Republic is busy still being built and he doesn’t want to bother Leia. Not when he knows that he can make it work on his own.

Part of him wishes he could talk to her about Mando and their brief kiss, but he’s not sure there’s much to tell. Plus, it’s probably the middle of the night on Coruscant and she will have turned in for the night.

Luke manages to get a small fire started and has just started warming his hands when he hears the Mandalorian rustle the curtain that hangs in front of the entrance of his hut. Luke doesn’t look up, opting to stare into the shifting flames of the fire.

He thinks that the Mandalorian is going to head back into his own hut, but instead he sits down on the log across from Luke, Grogu munching on his snack in the Mandalorian’s lap. Luke keeps his eyes trained on the fire, not sure of what to do next.

The Mandalorian speaks first.

“I’m going to go back tomorrow to look at the ship. See what all needs to be repaired. Looks like it’s going to need a hell of a lot of work.”

Luke finally looks up at the Mandalorian. Okay. So they aren’t talking about the kiss. Got it.

“You should take Artoo,” says Luke, “He can be very helpful.”

“I don’t like droids.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Luke deadpans.

Mando sighs. “I’ll take the droid.”

Luke feels a small smile creep onto his face. “His name is Artoo.”

The Mandalorian leans to the side, his left forearm resting on his knee, his right hand on his thigh. Grogu is making slurping noises as he gulps down the rest of his food.

“Could you tell me more about Mandalorian culture?” asks Luke, desperately wanting answers but not wanting to address the Bantha in the room.

The Mandalorian shifts a little, seeming hesitant.

“Like what?”

“Like what’s the significance of your armor?”

Mando’s grip tightens slightly on his thigh.

“The Beskar has been passed down through many generations of Mandalorians. It represents the years of combat that my people have been through. Our history lives on through it.”

“And your helmet? Why do some Mandalorians leave them on while others take them off?”

“Mandalorian is a creed, not a race. When I was a young boy, I vowed to never take it off. In my clan, that is what we did to survive. We did not tell our names, and we only went above the surface one at a time. Other Mandalorians live by a different creed. They have different experiences. Most of them think that my clan’s ways are outdated. No longer relevant to the galaxy we live in.”

“But you don’t?”

“Our anonymity is how we survived. It’s an important part of who we are as a clan. Whether or not the rest of my people want to honor that, it is their choice.”

Luke thinks back to the day that they met. Din’s teary eyes and disheveled hair, looking at Grogu like he was his everything.

“That night—” Luke starts, “the night I came to get Grogu, why did you take off your helmet if you made a creed not to? If anonymity is so important to your traditions, why would you break them?”

The Mandalorian looks down at the little green creature in his arms, his big eyes closing and opening, fighting sleep. He swipes a gloved hand under his chin, wiping off the crumbs there.

“I wanted my son to see me. What I really look like. We had been through so much together and I didn’t know if I was ever going to see him again,” says the Mandalorian as Grogu’s tiny fist wraps around one of his fingers. “When I lost him to the Empire, I realized that there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

Luke once again recalls that night. How sad Mando looked, the love that he could feel between the two of them.

Sadness washes over Luke. How hard it must have been for Mando to give up the one that he loved most, just so that the kid could be trained as a Jedi.

The conversation fades out and the three sit in silence for the rest of the night.

Luke still feels a bit on edge about the whole situation between them, but he feels that, even though almost nothing between them is resolved, that a key part of the Mandalorian has clicked into place.

The Mandalorian is staring at the fire, patiently waiting for Grogu to give in to his drowsiness.

Luke wonders what he’s thinking.

For the millionth time that night, Luke opens his mouth to say something to address the situation, but just as he does, the Mandalorian stands up from the fire, cradling Grogu with one hand. He steps around the fire, heading towards his hut.

“Goodnight, Mando,” Luke calls as he always does.

The Mandalorian stops in his tracks, deciding something.

“Din,” he says, almost too quiet for Luke to hear. “My name is Din Djarin.”

Luke is taken aback. “Din… Djarin?”

The Mandalorian nods once.

“Goodnight then… Din.”

“Goodnight, Luke.”

Din lingers a second longer before disappearing into his hut.

[ghostxofxartemis]

John x Ashley: hugging for too long?

Thank you for submitting this amazing prompt! Not only did I manage to get a birthday fic done for John, I also managed to fit this in! From this prompt list!  Fic also available on AO3.

A huge thank you to @bardofheartdive for beta reading for me! You are simply amazing! 

Happy Birthday, Shepard!

Shepard is sitting at his desk in his cabin in the Normandy SR1. His chair is hard, uncomfortable, his back is sore, though that’s the least of his concerns; he feels like it should be Anderson in here and not him. His mind is unfocused, his thoughts keep going back to their mission on Feros a few days ago. The Thorian still churns his stomach as he remembers how it was controlling the colonist. It’s not the only thing keeping him distracted, there is an awful lot of commotion coming from the mess hall just outside his cabin, making it difficult to finish his report from their mission on Elatania this morning; those space monkeys were just a pain in the ass to deal with. Having Ashley and Liara giggle away at him while on all fours didn’t exactly help with his mood either.  He’s certainly not feeling like someone who spent months and months on end through a grueling program to achieve N7, but more like a serviceman grunt at this moment. 

"What in the devil's work is going on?!"

Frustrated, he flicks his stylus onto his desk, then stands up, makes his way to his door and steps into the mess hall. He’s not one to usually lose his temper, but the persistent migraine he’s had the last past two days after receiving the cypher on Feros has been driving him insane. The commotion was just making it worse, souring his mood that much more. 

There is an unusually large crowd, most of whom should be working, gathered around the tables. Plates, cups, bottles of varied drinks, beer, and bowls full of different snacks were set on the tables. 

Ashley and Kaidan are at the kitchen counter, their backs facing him. They are in the middle of sniggering at something Shepard clearly missed out on. 

He walks up behind them very quietly, his head peering over their shoulders.

"What are you two doing?"

Ashley yelps, dropping her spatula. Kaidan jumps slightly at the unexpected visitor, face turning red from embarrassment, his expression resembling that of a kid getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar, knowing very well they aren't supposed to do that. Looks like two squadmates forgot they have an infiltrator among them. 

Ashley turns to face Shepard, a guilty look on her face, icing splattered on her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

Shepard's breath hitches, his heart skips a beat or several for that matter, and his lips twitch upwards into a half-smile. Just when he thinks she couldn't get any more adorable, she somehow manages to prove him wrong at every turn. His mind races, thinks about all the things he would very much love to do to her, then forces them back down just as quickly, out of mind. He's not that guy anymore, if he's to be with Ashley, he is going to do it right this time. Though… something tells him she wouldn't mind too much. First, they have to get rid of a little problem, a Rogue Spectre problem.

Shepard looks at her sheepishly.  

"Chief… you got….er," Shepard clears his throat, "you've got icing on your face."  He points in the general vicinity of her face.

“Oh!”

Ashley wipes the back of her hands, also covered in icing, against her cheeks, resulting in an even worse smear than she had just moments ago. 

“Did I get it?” She asks him, her eyebrows furrowed together. 

His grin widens just a fraction more, breath caught in his chest. He can feel his cheeks turning a little pink. He reaches for a napkin on the counter, then lifts it up to her, raising an eyebrow.

“May I?” 

Ashley’s cheeks turn a bright pink, her eyes take on a look of utter embarrassment as she nods at him. 

“Where did you learn how to bake, Ash? Normally you put the icing on the cake, not bury your face in the container,” he teases as he wipes the icing with the napkin off her face. 

“My mom and I would bake cakes together for every special occasion. Birthdays, holidays...you know.” 

Shepard throws the dirty napkin in the trash, “Question still remains...why are you and Alenko baking a cake?” 

He looks around, still confused. He certainly doesn’t remember giving everyone permission to gather around. He isn’t opposed to down time, but there have to be at least a few people manning stations. Was there a special occasion he was unaware of? 

“Shepard, it’s your birthday…” Kaidan says incredulously. Wondering how someone could possibly forget it’s their birthday. 

“Wha…?” John squawks, now he’s the one with the incredulous look on his face. He checks his omni-tool, hoping this is somehow all a big joke. When he notices the date his eyes widen, and he mutters something under his breath that sounds along the lines of  “you’re shitting me.” 

“It’s April 11th… your birthday…” Alenko drags the last two words like it’s the most obvious thing in the whole galaxy.

John crosses his arms across his chest, and shifts his weight onto his hip. His M.O. that he’s about to be stubborn and stand his ground. 

“That’s nice. But I don’t celebrate my birthday. So clean this mess up, and get back to work. That goes for everybody,” he says as he uncrosses his arms, turns on heels to make his way back to his cabin. Instead, he comes face to face with a seven feet tall wall...a krogan wall to be exact. Wrex had come up behind him, blocking his way. 

“Out of my way, Wrex.” 

Wrex growls, Shepard’s scowls.

If there’s one thing that puts a sour taste in his mouth, it is people wanting to celebrate his birthday. He hasn’t celebrated since he was five and that’s simply because his mother was still alive that year. After that the birthday celebration ceased to exist, other than occasional shots he’d share with fellow soldiers, and wasn’t going to start now. 

“Anderson told us you might object so... Wrex here volunteered to be your personal bodyguard for tonight,” Alenko smirks and John balls his hands into fists, nails digging in his skin because he’d rather feel that pain than punch his friend in his smug-faced expression. 

John inhales loudly, he’s about to argue until he thinks better of it. He really isn’t in the mood to go head to toe with a Krogan at the moment. He uncurls his fists, exhales while throwing his arms up in the year in exasperation.

“Fine!” 

Engineer Adams cracks a beer bottle open, and hands it to Shepard with a sheepish look on his face. Shepard growls slightly before muttering a barely audible “thanks.”

“Chief, just one request… no candles” 

“I make any promises, sir.” Ashley gives him mischievous smiles. Shepard shakes his head before turning away to make his way to the table and sits next to Tali who seemed to be overjoyed by seeing human customs for the first time.

~~~~~~~

Ashley waits until Shepard finds a seat next to Tali at the tables before she turns around and picks up the spatula. 

“Great, the icing is ruined now’” she grumbles.

She feels Kaidan elbowing her just a bit. She looks to see him with a coy smile on his face.

“What?” She demands, one eyebrow raising to her hairline.

“Nothing,” he shrugs and takes the spatula from her hand. 

“You’re withholding something.” She sneers at him.

“Me?!” Kaidan feigns innocence. “I would never!”

Ashley rolls her eyes and snatches the spatula from Kaidan and washes it. It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for, she thinks to herself. 

“I think the icing is fine, chief.”

“It really isn’t. Has to be perfect and there’s a spot missing icing and since someone sneaked up behind us, it’s going to be tricky to get it right without messing the rest of the icing.” She sighs as she dries the spatula with a dishcloth. 

“I didn’t take you for someone who demands perfection.”

“Really?! Have you seen your pistol, LT? Has it ever been in any better condition until I started taking care of it?” She scowls him.

“Good point.”

Ashley sighs. 

“Why don’t you let me give it a try.” Kaidan offers her a hand.

“I...oh alrighty.” With resignation, she sighs louder as she hands him the spatula and takes a couple of steps to the side to give him room. 

Kaidan eyes the cake for a moment before scooping up more icing from the container. He feels Ashley’s hot breath down his neck.

“Chief. I can’t focus while you’re breathing down my neck.” Kaidan looks down at her with raised eyebrows.

“I’m sorry! Okay. I won’t watch.” She sucks in her breath as she puts her hands over her eyes, though peaks through her fingers. She rolls her bottom lips between her lips, a nervous tell. 

Kaidan chuckles, shaking his head, slaps on the icing, and follows the trajectory that Ashley was doing earlier, somehow even making the icing look smoother than it had when she had done it. 

“Is it done?!” 

“It’s all good.”

Dropping her hands, she inspects the cake, a sly smiling making its way at the corner of her mouth.

“Not all heroes wear capes! Now, where’s that candle I had brought up earlier?” Before she can even look for it, Kaidan lifts up the candle to her eyes. She snatches it and places it next to Shepard’s name on the cake.

“I hope he doesn’t kill us. I am pinning this on you if he gets even more in a soured mood. Everyone should get to celebrate their birthday. You know what Anderson told me, last time we were on the Citadel?” She looks up to Kaidan, her eyes now distant deep in thought.

“No. What did he say?” Kaidan asks her, curious.

“The Skipper skipped out on his own birthday dinner with Anderson last year. Just no show. Anderson asked him about it later and the skipper just simply said ‘he didn’t feel like celebrating another year of making it out alive’.”

Kaidan’s mouth gapes open, and he closes it just as quickly. No words come out. Ashley couldn’t blame him. She had had the same reaction when Anderson had told him. 

“Anyways. Let’s go give him his cake.” Carefully, Ashley lights the candle with a lighter and picks it up while Kaidan picks up the cake they made for the dextro-amino crew mates and they make their way to the table while singing ‘Happy Birthday Shepard.’

Ashley’s gaze locks in with Shepard’s, his cheeks turn red and she feels hers heat up, forcing her to look away embarrassed. By some miracle, she manages to get the cake in front of him and chuckles when he covers his face with both his hands and mutters “for the love of God” at it.

“I told you I made no promises.”

“I know!” He grunts behind his hands before rubbing his face and blows out the candle.

“Now you get the honors of cutting, commander.” Kaidan smirks as he puts down the cake for the dextro.

“Yeah, no thanks. You know what,” Shepard picks up the cutting knife and hands it over to Dr. Chawkas, handle first, “why don’t you do me the honors, good doctor.” 

“Oh, Commander. I couldn’t.” She lifts her hands and shakes her head.

“Please. I insist. This is already too much.” Shepard levels the knife in his hand, giving her a sly smile.

“Well, in that case,” she sighs. 

While Dr. Chawkas cuts the cake, Shepard hands her the plates and she lays them on the table for anyone to grab until both cakes have been symmetrically cut. 

“So, Tali, I’m curious,” Ashley says as she slides in the seat next to Shepard and takes a bite from her cake in hand, “how do Quarians celebrate birthdays?” 

“Well. Quarians are only allowed one toy as personal possession while we’re children, and on our birthdays we part with them for us to get a new one.”

“Wait? You only get one toy?! Do you get to choose what it is at least?” Ashley asks Tali, perplexed. 

“Oh yes! We do get to choose among what is available, but we don’t always get what we like. We just have to make do. With limited space, we can’t get too choosy. That’s why on our birthdays we get to choose who gets our old toy, and we get to pick another one from what’s available in the storage.”

“Like a hand-me-down.” Ashley says as she licks her fork. She catches Shepard shuffling in his seat next to her in her peripheral vision, his hands grab hold of fabric from his trousers and he adjusts them slightly, pulling down on them. It took everything she got to resist looking down at him to see if she had managed to get a reaction out of him. She smirks. She reaches for an opened beer bottle on the table and opens it, gulping a good draft from it.

Ashley puts her bottle down on the table. “My parents couldn’t afford much on my father’s salary, so often, whatever I didn’t use anymore would get passed down to my sisters. But my parents always made sure we got something new for our birthdays. Something we wanted.” 

“Right. Something like that. But it wasn’t new.” Tali agreed.

“Heh! You humans and Quarians are soft. On our birthdays we drink ryncol and blow things up.” Wrex’s booming laugh shook the table. 

“Remind not to give you ryncol while on my ship,” Shepard shakes his head. 

The thought of the ship blowing up while they were in space was not a comforting one. How would he explain that one to the Alliance? Ashley could only imagine how the conversation would go for the Skipper’s side. Yeah, my krogan passenger decided to light the Mako on fire and send it off through the cargo door while it was still down, is probably what he would say. 

“Relax Shepard! After a few hundred years you don’t really care about celebrating anymore.” 

Ashley feels a shift beside her. Skipper. She gets a whiff of his musky scent mixed with cedar as he stands up and moves behind her to make his way to the counter. Her heart skips a beat, his signature scent always seemed to get her all warm inside. How can people not smell him coming? He just smells so good. She locks eyes with Kaidan who sits in front of her and feels herself starting to blush. Kaidan's eyes tell her he is on to her. Is she that obvious of her feelings for the Commander? Oh Gosh, what if Kaidan reports her? No. She tries to put those thoughts out of mind. 

Kaidan clears his throat, and he pulls her back to the present. Maybe she was panicking for no reason after all. 

“Now’s probably the time to give him what you got him, while he isn’t at the table,” he whispers. The others are too immersed in conversations to pay attention to the two of them. 

Ashley exhales deeply. “Right. Well here we go.” Standing up, she picks up the gift bag she had tucked under the table, and somehow Shepard had completely missed, at least, she thought he did and made her way to the skipper. 

Shepard’s back faces her and she inhales before she taps him gently on the shoulder. He looks back to her while washing his hands. 

“Williams.”

Ashley lifts the bag to him. “I...er… I got you a little something. Picked it up last time we were at the Citadel.”

He turns his head away from her, hiding his expression, and for a moment she thinks she has overstepped and maybe made a grave error. He dries his hands on a dishcloth before he turns completely to face her.

“Ash. You really didn’t have to do this. All this.” He looks back to the table where his crew conversed with one another. She could hear them laughing.

“Skipper. Really. It’s no big deal. In my family, we always celebrate everyone's birthday. It’s important.” She reaches her arm out towards him more, insisting he takes it. 

Reluctantly, he does. Slowly, he opens it up and takes a peek inside. He reaches inside with one hand and pulls out a weapon upgrade. An eyebrow reaches his hairline as he inspects it.

“How on Earth did you manage to get your hands on a Scram Rail X?! I thought only the Spectre Requisition officer had time in stock?”

“A girl needs to keep some secrets, now. Doesn’t she?” Ashley gave him a coy smile.

“Fine. Keep your secrets then Williams.” He returns her a smile. “Thank you.” 

Ashley rocks on her toes and points to the bag. “That’s not all. There’s more inside”

“Ash…” Shepard rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. A tell-tale sign he was feeling a tad uncomfortable. He places the Scram Rail X onto the counter and looks back down to the bag.  Ashley’s heart sinks a little when she remembers he’d been orphaned so young. Has he never celebrated his birthday before?

She waves him off. “Come on. Open it,” she urges him while bouncing on her toes. 

Sighing, he reaches down again and this time pulls out a box. He places the bag onto the counter and inspects the contents in his hand. 

“How-” His eyes widen, “how did you manage to get your hands on a WWII A-26 Douglas Invader aircraft model?!”

Ashley shrugged her shoulders.

“A girl has her secrets.” Shepard chuckles as he repeats her words and gently puts down the model box onto the counter.

Ashley suddenly gets pulled into a hug. She hadn’t expected this. For a moment she’s shocked, but it doesn’t take her long to return the hug and they hold onto each other tightly. She feels him bury his face in her hair. She feels him shake against her slightly. 

“Is it that bad?” She chuckles nervously as she rubs his back. She knows she should pull away, that this is against protocol, but she doesn’t care. There is just something about being in his arms that makes her feel at home and her heart sinks a little. She can’t imagine not celebrating the birthday of someone in her family. Every year, she and her sisters would always send vidmails to her father who was posted somewhere, eventually her sisters did the same for her when she joined the Alliance. In fact, she knew she would find one in her messages in a few days for her birthday. Shepard… Shepard has no one. He spent most of his life alone on his birthday. 

She rubs her face against his chest to wipe the tears that escaped her eye and trails down her cheek.

“No. Thank you, Ash. No one’s ever given me a gift quite like this one before.” He mumbles against her head. 

She hears footsteps coming up from behind her. She can’t tell who it is as her face is still buried up against Shepard. All she can smell is Shepard’s musky scent mixed with cedar, and she lets herself get lost in it. No care in the world, just the two of them at this moment, and she can count on her fingers how many times she has wished for this since he had shown interest in her and admitted he had feelings for her. 

Someone clears their throat behind her, bringing both her and Shepard back to the present and they separate. Shepard looks away, wiping his face with the back of his thumb. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt this moment, but I don’t want anyone making any fraternization complaints, Commander.”  Ashley turns to face the owner of the voice and sees Kaidan cleaning some of the dishes. She rubs her forehead with a hand.

“We weren’t...there’s nothing between us, I mean.” She starts to panic.

“Don’t worry chief. I didn’t see anything. It’s a birthday after all.” Kaidan reassures her as he picks up the dishcloth and dries the dishes.

Shepard picks up the mod and hands it over to Ashley. “I trust you’ll take good care of this.” 

“You bet, Skipper. The targeting system will be ready for our next mission. Sir.” She says as she picks it up and places it in her pockets.

Shepard gives her a wink before heading back to sit down next to Liara who sat with the others, yet still managed to be distant from them, this time.

Ashley feels a hard elbow to her ribs, and grunts. “What?!” She looks hard at Kaidan, trying to read his mind. 

Kaidan gives her a coy smile, his eyes twinkle with mischievousness Ashley didn’t think was possible for the goody two shoes Kaidan. He brings both his index fingers together and moves them around against each other, “Williams and Shepard sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

Horror struck, her eyes widen and her cheeks turn red, but what horrifies her most is that her eyes meet with Shepard’s and his eyebrows are raised quizzically at them’ his head slightly tilted to the side. He definitely saw something.  

“You’re blushing, Chief. I mean, I’m pretty sure you’re the same colour of beets right now.” Kaidan chuckles as he crosses his arms and leans up against the counter.

Groaning, she buries her face into her hands. “Oh dear, God. Shoot me now! This is your fault!”

“Hmm. I did no such thing.” Kaidan shuffles away and Ashley scurries to grab a plate of cake and a couple more beer bottles to bring up to Joker up in the cockpit to get away from everyone for a moment. She just barely manages to see someone placing a party hat on Shepard and immediately thinks who did that is a dead man or woman. 

~~~~~~

Shepard currently finds himself alone in the mess. Everyone has either gone back to their post to work or gone to bed. Shepard sits against the cupboards, he is holding his model box in hand, inspecting the box and reading the description. A couple of empty beer bottles are at his feet, a freshly opened one beside him.

“It’s not going to bite you know.”

He looks up to find Ashley standing in front of him. 

“I know’” is all he says. He tilts his head slightly to his left, an invitation for her to sit next to him. She does. 

“You ran off pretty quickly there earlier. Everything alright?”

“Yeah.” She shuffles a little and gets comfortable. She leans her head against the cupboards. “So who’s the dead one?” she asks him. 

“Huh?” 

She points at the party hat. His eyes follow her fingers.

“Oh! Crosby.” 

“Is he cleaning head?”

“Oh, definitely on latrine duty for two weeks. He just doesn’t know it yet.”  Shepard chuckles.

Ashley snorts.

They fall into companionable silence for a while.

“So. Whose idea was this anyway?” Shepard finally asks her after a few moments.

“LT’s and mine. Ander-”

“Anderson told you guys about last year, didn’t he?” He finishes her sentence for her. 

Ashley chews on her bottom lip before nodding. 

Shepard sighs and gently puts down his box between his legs and reaches for his beer. He is just a little upset with Anderson now, but he knows the man only had good intentions in mind. He always does when it comes to Shepard, and Shepard knows this very well. Ever since they’ve known each other, Anderson always has his back. He is the closest thing to a father Shepard would ever have. 

“He said you haven’t celebrated your birthday long before he even met you…” She stops there. Shepard knows she is holding back what she wants to say.

He takes a good draft from his beer. He isn’t sure if it’s because he wants a drink or needs to calm his nerves for what he is about to say.

“I haven’t celebrated since the year my mother was -” He hesitates.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

Shepard feels a sudden weight on his shoulders and something tickling his cheek.

His eyes dart to his shoulder and he sees Ashley had let her head fall onto his shoulder. He brushes the free strand of her hair away from his cheek and tucks it behind her ear, brushing her cheekbone with his fingertips as he does so.

“She was brutally murdered, you know. I was five. Watched the whole thing happen. He didn’t even know I was watching. Hidden inside my closet.” 

“Skipper, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry.” Ashley wraps her arms around his closest to her and holds him close, tightly. She intertwines their fingers together. He doesn’t protest. 

“That was the last year we celebrated my birthday together. Wasn’t anything big, we didn’t have very much, but it was her and me and that was all that had mattered to me. Once you’re in a gang, you’re just a number to them. A tool. Birthdays don’t matter then.”

“But they matter to me. And you matter to me- us. So from now on we celebrate your birthday. Whether you like it or not.” She jams a finger against his bicep then goes back to hugging his arm.

“Hah! I guess I don’t have a choice in the matter?” Shepard chuckles.

“Nope. Not this time.” 

“That’s okay. I believe I have a few days left to plot my revenge?”

“You wouldn’t?!” She gasps slightly.

“You’re probably right.” Shepard shrugs nonchalantly as he takes his party hat off and slides it on Ashley’s head. He stares down at her plump lips and leans down toward her slightly. She tilts her head backwards, reaching out slightly, closing in on the distance. The smell of alcohol permeates the space between them as they inch closer and closer to each other. 

At the last second Ashley’s eyes widen just a fraction and she pulls away, red in the face. 

She clears her throat while she jumps to her feet. She rubs her hands on her fatigues as if to dust them off. Shepard notices the bit of nervousness coming from her. “I...er… I have some weapons to check out. I should get back to work. Wouldn’t want them to malfunction while on a mission. Sir.” She starts to walk away and takes the party hat off, holding it close to her chest. 

“Ash?” Shepard calls out and she stops dead in her tracks. She turns around to look at him.

“Sir?”

“Thanks, and... er… sleep well, Williams” His lips curl up into a shy grin.

“Happy birthday, sir.” She turns on her heels and makes her way toward the lift.

“Goodnight Williams.” He says more to himself than to her for she had already rounded the corner and no doubt was already in the lift making her way down to the cargo hold. 

From this prompt list!  Fic also available on AO3.

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette the Vampire Slayer

Yeah I went there.

In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.

           The heavy book dropped down in front of her loudly. Marinette frowned as she looked at it. VAMPYR’ written in gold leaf on the front cover. It was old and black and looked to be the book in horror movies that the main character’s stupid friend reads that causes hell to break loose.

           But hell was already breaking free, apparently, and reading one book probably wouldn’t do too much more damage.

           She looked up at the man who had dropped the book in front of her. He was handsome in an awkward sort of way; tall, a good jawline, and floppy brown hair. He seemed to make a joke out of everything despite the darkness that seemed to lurk just behind his eyes.

Marinette always knew there was something… off about the school’s new librarian. It wasn’t just his young age, late twenties at most. It wasn’t his missing eye; rumor was that he was a war vet from the United States. It wasn’t that he didn’t like to go by Mr. Harris, and instead asked everyone to call him Xander. It wasn’t even that he was always seem to be there just when Marinette was about to transform to fight an akuma. No, it was something far worse…

           It was those godawful shirts he wore. The cut, the design, everything about them; they physically caused Marinette pain to look at them.

           And, now, it was also the fact that he helped her kill a vampire the night before. A freaking vampire. As if Marinette’s life couldn’t get more bizarre.

           The night before Marinette realized she left her sketchbook at school, not long after the sunset. She rushed back to get it. The bluenette had gotten to her classroom, and just placed her sketchbook in her bag, when she heard screams.

           She ran as fast as she could. What she saw would haunt her for quite some time.

           At first, it looked like some boy just wasn’t taking no for an answer as he had a crying girl pinned against the desk. The bluenette threw herself at the attacker, shoving him with all her strength. He landed against the wall and fell into a slump on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked the girl quickly. To her shook, once she got a better view, the girl turned out to be Aurore, her new best friend, though from the state the other girl was in Marinette was surprised she recognized her friend at all. Her blond hair was in disarray. Her makeup was smeared. Her shirt was bloody. Her neck was bleeding, Marinette finally noticed. “Oh god, what happened? What did he do to you?”

“He bit me!” Aurore gasped. “Jacob bit me! We were on date and he wanted to see my school. As he as he got me alone… he, he!” The blonde burst into tears.

“I just wanted a little snack,” A voice said. And they turned and saw the boy standing there behind them; blocking their exit. Marinette hadn’t even heard him get up or move. His face was twisted, his eyes a bit yellow; it was un-human. “Now I got two.” He taunted.

           Marinette stood in front of Aurore protectively.

“Is it an Akuma?” Aurore asked. “I thought Hawkmoth was gone.”

“No,” Marinette answered. “And he is.” Ladybug had defeated Hawkmoth nearly a before. Then she retired. Marinette was still the guardian of the Miraculous but no longer a hero. She just wanted to be a normal girl, do normal go things, not worry about the fate of the entire world. She didn’t know how she knew but the Asian girl could just tell that whatever this guy was, was about to burst that dream bubble.

The bluenette put herself into a battle stance.

           The monster laughed, “Are you going to fight me, little girl?”

           Marinette glanced at her bloody, wounded, and terrified friend, and glared back at Jacob, furious at what he did to her, “Oh, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

           Then the fight was on.

           Jacob punched high, but Marinette blocked him. He tried to punch her again, but Marinette blocked again and followed up with a front snap kick to his stomach. As he leaned forward from the pain, Marinette slammed her elbow into Jacob’s back.

           He sneered and threw himself at her. The two struggle back and forth, trading blows. At one time Jacob had her by the throat. Marinette struggled to break free from the grip on her next. She didn’t even notice Aurore come up, behind Jacob, with a chair and slam it over his hand.

“You are the worst date ever!” The blond yelled at him.

           Jacob snarled and moved to attack, only to be stopped by Marinette. The two quickly went back to fighting. However, no matter how hard Marinette hit him, the monster wouldn’t stop.

“Just stay down!” Marinette growled as Jacob hit the wall and falls to the floor, winded. “Seriously!”

           The door suddenly burst open, Marinette spun around, ready to take on whatever came next. Only to see Xander standing there. He looked frazzled and a bit out of breath, “Marinette, catch!” He yelled and then tossed something at her. Marinette caught it with ease and examined the… stake? “Go for the heart,” The man yelled.

“Go for what now?” Marinette asked, shocked. She didn’t have time to get an answer as Jacob roared behind her. He launched himself at her but Marinette, instinctually, neatly jams the makeshift stake into his chest. He falls back, a stunned look on his face before turning to ashes. Marinette couldn’t believe her eyes.

“What the hell?” Aurore asked.

           Xander shrugged, “Well; hell definitely has something to do with it.” He chuckled. “That was a vampire; a demon. Now he’s dust. Go home,” He told the two girls. “Wash up. Marinette, we’ll talk tomorrow after school, okay? I’ll explained everything.” Then he left.

           That was it.

           The night ended with Aurore sleeping over at Marinette as the blond had no idea how to begin to explain to her parents exactly what happened. No one would believe they got attacked by a vampire.

           Marinette spent the next day at school with a mind full of questions. She could barely focus. As soon as the last bell rang, she all but ran out of the class, straight to the library.

           Which brings her the present moment…

           Xander opened up the book to the page he had bookmarked. At the top of the page, written in a dark ink, Marinette prayed wasn’t blood, was the word: Slayer.

“That’s you,” He pointed to the word. “Scary, Supergirl; terrify monsters everywhere.”

“Me?” Marinette asked.

“You.”

           She gave him an uneasy look before turning back to the book. “In every generation there is a Chosen One,” Marinette read aloud. “She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.” She looked back up the man. “Me?”

“You,” He answered again. “And before you ask; I am one hundred percent sure. Willow told me.”

           The bluenette decided to ask who Willow was later. “I’m the Chosen one. I’m the Slayer.”

           Xander shrugged, “You’re a Slayer.”

           Marinette narrowed her eyes, “The book says: The Slayer. As in one.”

“Yeaaaahhh, the book’s a little out of date,” Xander explained. “Like over a decade out of date. That whole one slayer per Gen thing, totally went out of style.” He said. “It was a whole big thing. The hell mouth opened. A bunch of potential slayers were being killed. My best friend buffy, the slayer at the time, decided to say fuck that. And got Willow, my other best friend, a crazy powerful witch to make it so all potential slayers will be slayers. And you’re one of them. You got called on your fourteenth birthday. Did you realize you were stronger, faster; the works?”

           Marinette had but she assumed the time she spent as Ladybug had finally paid off. “Slayer,” She repeated weakly. How could she be a Slayer? She was only fifteen. Then again, she was only twelve when she was called up to be Ladybug.

 Xander nodded. “Which is great because I got sent to investigate the supernaturals going ons in this town and its turns out… Paris is on a Hell mouth. Whatever happened with that Hawkmoth guy caused its aura to go from vacant to Sunnydale levels. It’s attracting all sorts of nasties.  If anywhere in the world needs a Slayer right now, it’s Paris. We’ll need to train you for it fast.”

           Marinette took a moment to process. “…I just wanted to be normal. Start over. Couldn’t evil go suck in some other city?”

“Not the way it works, kid,” Xander said as he sat down. “And it’s not going to wait until you’re ready either. It never does.”

“Why me?” She asked. “I did my job. I didn’t want to but I did it anyway. Every day, fight after fight. I defeated Hawkmoth. I stopped his wish from ripping apart reality. I saved the world. Why is it always me that has to save everyone? I asked for this. I never wanted this!”

           Xander waited silently for her to finish, “…I know. And it’s not fair.” He finally said. “It’s never fair that some kid wakes up one day and suddenly has the weight of the world on her shoulders. Or that she’ll have to spend the rest of her life fighting the forces of evil. Buffy never wanted this either. You remind me a lot of her actually. The powers that be made her into weapon of good, and she never quite forgave for it.” He gave her a look. “And she knows you might not forgive her either.”

           It took Marinette a moment to understand, “There was only ever supposed to be one Slayer at a time. And she changed that.” Marinette could understand why Buffy thought she’d be angry. “Once upon a time, there’s was a slim possibility that I out of who knows how many girls slash potential slayers in the world could be The Slayer. Now I and all those girls are all Slayers.” She sighed. “But you said that back in the day, there were killing potential slayers left and right. So I guess its better that I’m not defenseless when evil comes a callin.” Marinette could hear the defeat in her voice, and she was sure Xander could hear it as well based on the look on his face.

           Xander sighed, “You don’t have to do this,” He told her. “There are other Slayers I can call to handle Paris. Faith nearly killed me when she found out I got the spot here. I can call her. If you want I’ll teach you out to fight, and that’s it. I never liked the idea of sending kids to war anyway.” Particularly since he used to be, what some would say, a glorified child soldier as well; him and the rest of the Scooby Gang. “But before you make your choice. I want you to watch something.”

           He pulled out a white crystal from his pocket and sat it on the table. “Vidtoalis,” He said and the crystal lit up and suddenly a hologram like image beamed out of it. A video played.

           A beaten up young blond woman, with cuts and wounds all over her face, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a look of determination on her face.

“That’s Buffy,” Xander told her.

           Marinette nodded but her eyes stayed on the image in front of her. It was like she was watching it on TV.

Buffy was in a room full of people who looked like life kick the crap out of them too. One of them was Xander, who looked a lot younger but still missing an eye.

“I hate this. I hate being here,” Buffy said. “I hate that you have to be here. I hate that there’s evil and that I was chosen to fight it. I wish a whole lot of the time that I hadn’t been. I know a lot of you wish you hadn’t been, either.”

           At that, that Marinette glanced down. Because, damn, if that didn’t hit the nail on the head.

“This isn’t about wishes. This is about choices.” Buffy told the room, told Marinette whose blue eyes was drawn back to the Dynamic woman. “I believe we can beat this evil. Not when it comes. Not when its army is ready. Now. Tomorrow morning, I’m opening the seal. I’m going down into the Hellmouth and I am finishing this once and for all. Right now, you’re asking yourself what makes this different. What makes us anything more than a bunch of girls being picked off one by one? It’s true. None of you have the power that Faith and I do.”

           Marinette listened to the speech that sounded better than any she’d ever heard before. Never had she heard someone sound so powerful, so strong, and to think Buffy seemed to have been facing what sounded like the apocalypse.

“So here’s the part where you make a choice,” Buffy said, and it sounded like she was talking directly to Marinette. “What if you could have that power, now? In every generation, one Slayer is born, because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule. They were powerful men. This woman is more powerful than all of them combined. So I say we change the rule. I say my power, should be our power. Tomorrow, Willow will use the essence of this scythe to change our destiny.”

           To change Marinette’s destiny. Or maybe Marinette was always destined to be Slayer, except in another world it would’ve been after the last Slayer died; to pick up where she left off. To keep saving people, saving the world. Marinette never wanted to be a hero but she always wanted to help people.

Buffy raised her head high, “From now on, every girl in the world who might be a Slayer, will be a Slayer. Every girl who could have the power, will have the power. Can stand up, will stand up. Slayers, every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?”

           Marinette already knew the answer. She would do what she did best; the right thing. The powers that be, or whoever, called her up. And if evil was coming to Paris, then Marinette would be the first to step up and try to beat it back. She looked up at Xander, “What do I have to do first?”

           He smiled, “Learn how to use a stake.”

“What’s your role in all this?” Marinette asked.

“For Buffy, I was loyal compadre, White Knight,” Xander answered. “Best friend forever. But for you. I’ll be your Watcher. I’ll train you, teach you, guide you, and prepare you for what’s to come.” He told her. “Rumor has it that there’s a Master Vampire lurking underneath Paris. As soon as he finds out you’re here, he’ll come for you.”

           That didn’t sound good. “And a master vampire is…?”

“Master Vampire; capital M, Capital V,” He stressed. “One of the oldest and strongest vampires in the world. A living nightmare for every Slayer.”

           Suddenly book on the nearby shelf toppled over, a “Sorry, Sorry!” Was heard. And then a, “Dang it, Marc.”

           Xander sighed, “Come out. Now.”

           A sheepish looking Aurore and Marc came from behind the book shelves. Marinette groaned, “Marc, Aurore, really?”

“The girl from last night,” Xander nodded, “And the boy who checks out all the DC rebirth comic; you got good taste,” He told Marc. “How much did you two hear?”

“Nothing much,” Marc said quickly. “Just something about a hellmouth. Master Vampire; Marinette having the fate of humanity on her shoulders. Small stuff really.”

           Aurore smirked, “And we saw that magic crystal show of yours. How does it work? Is it like a memory spell or something? Whose memory is it? Why was Marinette picked to be a Slayer? What’s a hell mouth?”

           Xander just blinked at them before turning to Marinette, “Friends of yours?”

           Marinette nodded, “Best friends.” Lila had kept her word and Marinette had been left friends a year before Hawkmoth’s defeat. It was fine though. She ended up changing classes and becoming friends with a bunch of other kids. She was even happier about the change once she learned that Adrien was Chat Noir, her old partner; a good guy but her friendship had become awkward once she found out his identity. She just couldn’t get over the weirdness of it; her sweet crush turned out to be the jerk from work who didn’t understand she wasn’t interested.

           The bluenette was happy to just move on.

“How does she kill it?” Aurore asked. “How we do help her kill it? Can you teach us to fight to? Before say no; keep in mind we’re going to help her anyway.”

“You can’t get rid us,” Marc warned. “We’re like roaches.” He smiled. “We could be like a team. Like the Avengers. Or Scooby doo. Or Like the Sailor scouts!” Then he sang. “Fighting evil by moonlight. Winning love by daylight. Never running from a real fight. She is the one named Sailor Moon.” He yelled the ending. “Like I would rock that skirt if I have to.”

“You totally have the legs to pull it off,” Aurore told him.

           Marinette paused, and then looked over Marc, “…Huh, you really do.”

           The dark haired boy looked touched, “Thank you.”

           Xander pinched his nose, “The earth is doomed.” And he nearly winced at how much he sounded like Giles at the moment. He wondered if this was how his father-figure felt when faced with the might that was Buffy, Willow, and Xander the first time he met them. He wondered if this was karma for all the shit they put Giles through while they were in High school. Or the G-Man just cursed the lot of them.

           He decided right then that he’d train all three of them. Now that they knew that magic was real, that there was real evil out there, Xander felt that he owed it to them to make sure that they were prepared. He would make sure that that they could handle whatever danger hid in the darkness. He’d owed it to every kid that didn’t know and didn’t stand a chance once the boogieman came knocking; every kid that never grew up. Xander owed it to Jessie.

           Xander trained them for a month before he decided to send them of their first patrol. During this time, he had been as hard a taskmaster as Giles ever was. If they weren’t studying one of the big books of monsters, they were learning how to kill one; how to defend themselves. Despite how many times the three ended up flat on their backs, black and blue, nursing wounds and calloused hands, and so exhausted they could barely get up; they never lost their spirit.

           Quite a few times, after a training session, did Xander overhear Marc talking about how cool it be to be like the superheroes in the comics and movies he worshiped. Aurore always animatedly agreed referencing some show called Supernatural; hunting things, saving people, the family business, or whatever. Or the blond would say how they’d be in one of Xander’s magic books one day; like Buffy or Angel. She talked about the two like they were Stars to written about and glorified. Marinette would always just laugh along because she agreed that being Buffy or Faith or any of Scooby gang was the coolest thing ever. The legendary Buffy Summers and her friends, who’s stories had been written down for history and future generations’ sake so they could learn from them.

           No matter how scary the tales were, the kids just admired the heroes in them who always managed to save the day on what seemed like a weekly basis.

           They really did remind him of a young Buffy, Xander, and Willow. And Xander would be damned if they ended up like them. The kids deserved better. (…So did every member of the Scooby gang if he let himself be honest; Cordelia, Anya, Angel, Oz, Spike, and even Wesley. They all deserved better endings then what they got.)

           Xander would make sure the kids learned a cold hard truth. And he’d use their first patrol to do it.

“…Wait, so you’re gonna trust us,” Marinette asked skeptically. “By ourselves,” She motioned between her and her friend. “To patrol. Alone, together.”

“Without you,” Marc tried to clarify, suspicion clear on his face. “You don’t let us do anything by ourselves.”

           Aurore nodded, “We can’t even read your precious books alone.”

           Xander pointed at her accusingly, “You tried to read a two hundred year old book while eating hot Cheetos. Giles would’ve banned you from the library. For life.” He took a breath to calm himself. “Yes, tonight, you’re going to patrol the graveyard from sunset until your curfew. Don’t die.”

           Marinette, Marc, and Aurore set out that night to guard a graveyard; which is something none of them ever expected to do in their lifetimes.

           It didn’t end well.

           Five vampires had clawed their way out of their graves. Marinette had only manage to dust one, when the other four came at them. It turned out it was a lot easier to slay a vampire in theory than in reality.

           Each of the three got the crap kicked out of them. It was only by the skin of their teeth that they managed to slay three of the vampires, the last got away, while not dying in the process. When they were done, they looked and felt like they got runover by a truck.

“That sucked,” Marinette snapped. She winced at she pressed down on the bleed stomach.

           Marc whimpered as he tried to stand up. He had been thrown against the headstone, and probably had a concussion. “Well I feel dead.” He told them. “And miserable. Nosferatu got away. That’s bad.”

“Bad?” Aurore whispered. “That thing is going to kill people. Bad doesn’t begin to cover it. Because whatever he does, that’s on us.”

“Because we couldn’t stop him,” Marinette closed her eyes. “Because we weren’t enough.”

           Marc shook his head, “We tried. We nearly got killed. My life flashed before my eyes. I spend way too much time staring at Nathaniel.”

“We’re not heroes,” Aurore glanced down. “I don’t know what we were thinking doing this. I, we, Ugh; we suck. How did Buffy and her friends do this every day?”

“Cause they’re awesome; born for it.” Marc shrugged. Then paused. He frowned. “Or maybe we didn’t pay close enough attention to the stories about them. We hyped them up as heroes too much. It wasn’t always easy for them; especially in the beginning. It was hard.”

“They lost a lot,” Aurore remembered.

“People died,” Marinette added. “They couldn’t save everyone; like that guy Jessie. It was the first person the Scooby gang knew that they couldn’t save. It still haunts Xander.”

“They all suffered,” Marc said.

           A slow clapping filled the graveyard, Xander stood there with a solemn look on his face, “Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy; F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote that.” He told them. “When you read about the things so-called heroes do, it’s easy to focus on the victory and overlook the details. Because the details are just boring facts; they don’t pop off the page like a blood-soaked battle does.  You don’t know who Miss Calendar is. You didn’t know she liked computer and could sass Giles like no other. You don’t care that Giles loved her.  At best, you remember her as one of Angelus’ victims. A long list that of names that belong to people that don’t matter to you. History doesn’t mourn her. It doesn’t mourn anyone. Instead, it spins out information and glorifies the battles and the heroes in them. It puts heroes on pedestals and turns them into stars to tell what they gave the world, but not all the world took from us.”

           Xander looked at Marinette, Aurore, and Marc. “Real life is different though. When it’s right in front of you, you can’t ignore the people who die like their just names on a history book. You have to live with it, and most of the time, you never forget it.” He looked down. “No matter what historians will say about you, or what song is written, or what the poets will. You’re not a Star. When you die, there is no blaze of fire. When someone you love dies, there’s no blinding light. And you’ll only remember the screams; and usually they’re yours.”

           Marinette swallowed hard. Marc stuffed his hands in his pockets. Aurore fought the tears in her eyes.

“I killed the last vampire. Go home,” Xander said. “Bandage up. Rest. We’ll go over what happened tonight tomorrow. I’ll patrol the rest of the night.”

           With that, the three said their reluctant goodbyes and left Xander standing in the graveyard alone.

           Xander watched them leave, and turned to look up at the heavens, at the powers that be, or whoever was responsible for those kids being called to fight, “I know what you want. I know what you think they’ll be. You look at them as see what the same thing you saw when you looked at Buffy, Willow, and me. You made them to be strong, warrior, soldiers, heroes. And you expect me to give them a sword, and willingly send them to battle like Giles did for us. But don’t you forget…”

           He paused, and clenched his tenth and his fists, “There more of us at the start. Good people who fought, bled, and died for this world. I don’t want to see this kids end up like them; just more martyrs for cause. I know the world needs them. The Scooby gang, what’s left of us, can’t live forever. The world needs their hope, their hearts, their strength, and bravery; and everything else their willing to give. And if they’re anything like us, they’ll give everything. And the world will take it.”

           It would take and take and take until there was nothing left; something Xander knew from experience.

“Fuck the world,” Xander said. “And fuck you too. Fuck anyone that’ll every take anything from them. And fuck you again for what they’ll become because they deserve more. We deserved more.”

           He glared up at sky but then his gaze softened, “Please,” Xander said. “Just please. You had a Buffy, a Willow, a Xander, a Giles, a Faith, an Angel, a Cordelia, Spike. And more before us, an Icarus and Perseus and Hercules. You have had so many heroes, so many martyrs. So please, I’m begging. Pick other heroes, the world has plenty and more will come. Let them live. Let them have their happy endings. They are young. They are just kids. Let them be. Let them live.”

           He finished and walked out of the cemetery; the weight of the world on his shoulders he was Atlas.

           He doubted they listen. The gods were never fair. Life was never fair. No one cares that heroes are human too. They are not gods. They bleed and cry like any. They only see the divinity in their blood, the path destiny put before them.

           Still Xander would tell them, tell everyone would could hear him. Even if they never listen, never believe. He’ll tell them anyone. He owed every fallen hero that much.

           It was the only thing he could give them.

           It was one of the few things he could still give himself.

[luninosity]

Okay! Time for the final @whumptober2020 fic, for completion! (There might actually be one more, because I was planning it - I’d forgotten I’d actually already done theme 30! We’ll see if I’m motivated enough to do it again, with the idea I still have!)

This one’s actually going back to an earlier theme, because I didn’t have a good idea for it then, but I do now! So here’s theme no.13, Breathe In Breathe Out - for the prompt “oxygen mask”.

This one’s Evanstan, with a fire on set, Seb needing an oxygen mask, and that lovely angst-with-happy-ending “I thought you were dead!” trope, and love confessions!

#

Fire. Chris smells it, hears it—ash and alarm, cinders and shouts—before he sees it. He’s been over in hair and makeup, and he and the makeup artists exchange looks and duck out the door, trying to see what’s going on. Someone yells something about the set. The soundstage. Going up. Sirens shriek in the distance.

 The set—but—

 Sebastian’s on set.

 Sebastian’s on that set, because he’d already been called over for a few shots before Chris’s character’s meant to show up and fret over him with space-program director worry. Sebastian’s on that set, dressed in that astronaut’s uniform, practicing getting in and out of his tiny historical-replica capsule—

 Chris can’t put the pieces together. He can’t.

 He runs, instead. Everyone is. Across the lot. Toward the flames.

 The fire’s sharp and vicious, orange and red and hungry, full of fangs. The heat hits like a fist, leaping from the soundstage. It’s all going up.

 Firefighters’re at work. Water flies past him; chemical retardants soothe flaring rage. The fire fights back.

 Several people stumble out of the smoke, with the aid of more of the fire brigade. Chris recognizes them: crew, extras, a personal assistant. No Sebastian.

 No Sebastian—

 No. No. He lunges closer. “Seb!”

 “Chris—” That’s Anthony Mackie, also on this film, which they’d laughed about—the three of them together again—and half in costume and half not, the tuxedo shirt for the astronaut fancy-dress ball hanging open over jeans. “Chris, no—you can’t, you can’t go in—”

 “Sebastian’s in there!”

 Mackie’s face wears horror like an open grave: comprehending the loss, broken open, full of anguish. “I know—Chris, I know—but you can’t, they said, it’s—”

 An explosion. A billow of flame. Shooting out a door.

 “No,” Chris snaps. He pulls against the grip on his arm. “No.”

 “I’m sorry—” Mackie has both arms around him now, as Chris staggers. They wrestle or collapse or crumple to the ground. “It’s too late, Chris, it’s—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you know I…oh, Jesus…Seb…”

 They cling to each other, huddled on hard ground. Chris’s knees hurt from the impact. When he breathes he tastes smoke, cinders, flying bits of paper.

 It’s not real. It can’t be real. It’s too fast, too strange, too horrible to be true.

 Sebastian isn’t—Seb’s not—

 Sebastian, who just that morning had been kissing him, laughing, running lines with him in the shower and singing Green Day slightly off-key and trailing hands all over Chris’s body with a smirk that said he was thinking about what they’d just done…

 Sebastian can’t be gone. Chris loves him.

 “But,” he whispers. “No…he’s not…he can’t be…”

 The fire’s hissing, spitting, cornered. Backing down.

 Murmurs happen in the background. Paramedics, emergency crews. People doing head counts.

 “We were going to,” Chris says, very small, hiding from the imminent understanding, not wanting to understand. “We were going to…after this film…we would’ve told everyone…our characters’re in love anyway…Seb said we should do it at the premiere…we’re going to tell everyone. About us. I love him.”

 “Chris,” Mackie says. “Chris, look at me.”

 “I’m going to kiss him,” Chris says. “In public. I’m…I was…he wanted…I wanted to hold his hand and tell everyone I’m in love with him…”

 “I know. He told me. You told me. I know you were.”

 “But…he’s…” He can’t think. Can’t move. The weight crushes him down onto the ground. “He’s…”

 Something’s happening. Paramedics coming over. Hands coaxing Chris up, voices asking questions.

 He answers mechanically. Dully. He’s not hurt. He’s not injured, physically. He mumbles, “Sebastian…”

 “It’s all right.” The closest paramedic pats his shoulder. “It’s all right, I promise—here, come with us, this way…”

 Nothing’s all right. Nothing ever will be again.

 Because it doesn’t matter, he goes along with her. Stumbling around the side of the building, the ruin, the rubble. Haze hangs heavy in the air. The shape of an ambulance looms, squat and white. Chris’s eyes burn. He isn’t crying—or is he? Smoke and shock mingle and slide down his cheeks.

 Would it have been quick? Would Seb have had that mercy, at least? He can’t let himself imagine the alternative: Seb trapped in that small one-man capsule, unable to escape, knowing…

 He has to stop. Bending over. Hands braced on knees. He’s dizzy. Wanting to fall.

 “Chris!” That’s…a voice he knows. That’s…

 It can’t be. It can’t.

 “Chris!” says Sebastian’s voice again, followed by a cough—no, a series of coughs, deep and shuddering, and then what sounds like medical admonishment over protests. Someone else says, “Yes, he’s fine—keep that on, please, we’ll get him for you—”

 Sebastian’s voice, or the voice that sounds like Seb’s, murmurs something indistinct and subsides.

 Chris lurches upright. Rubs his eyes. He can’t see. Can’t recall how to breathe, how to take a step—

 The friendly paramedic takes his arm. Coaxes him around the side of the ambulance, to the back, among a few coughing and wounded bodies, everyone alive; she guides him over to where—

 Where he sees—

 “Sebastian…” His knees wobble. His voice cracks. “Seb…”

 Sebastian’s lying propped up on a stretcher. Oxygen mask in place. Air flowing. Ash in his hair, an ugly burn across one arm, black streaks like claws slashing his astronaut’s wardrobe.

 But his eyes are open. His chest’s going up and down. He brightens all over, whole body transformed with relief and joy, at the sight of Chris; he struggles to push himself up, to move.

 Chris throws himself that way. Hands shaking. Heart shaking. Reaching for Seb. “Sebastian—oh god—Seb—”

 Sebastian flings both arms around him, heedless of burns and smoke. Chris holds him, feels him, clutches him desperately. Seb’s here. Seb’s here and real.

 He knows nothing else, for a handful of seconds.

 He finally pulls back because he needs to look, needs to see. He gazes at Sebastian, drinks him in, sinks into the certainty of him. Sebastian. His Sebastian. Alive.

 Seb leans into Chris’s arm. He’s weak, frighteningly so, but moves the mask again. “Hey…love you…”

 “Don’t,” Chris whispers, “don’t, you need that, keep it on, they said,” and tries to nudge it back with fumbling fingers. “I love you…oh, fuck, Seb…I love you so damn much…”

 Seb resists putting the mask on, long enough to promise, “I’m here. I’m here and I’m safe, okay?” He stops to cough; he closes his eyes after, briefly.

 Chris looks up at their paramedic. She tells him, “He’ll be all right. We’ll keep an eye on his lungs, but his breathing’s already improving, and everything sounds the way it should, the way we’d expect. He’s a hero, you know.”

 Sebastian, now settled against Chris, waves one hand: tiredly dismissing this.

 “Oh, yes,” the paramedic says, to Chris. “He got three people out that side door, before anyone ever made it in. They’re all talking about it.”

 “Of course he did.” Chris gazes down at Sebastian, in his arms. “Of course you did. I fucking love you.”

 Seb looks up, Tries to grin, or shrug: brushing off heroism, all in a day’s work, happy to be here and held by Chris.

 Their paramedic says, casually, “He wouldn’t rest until we found you.” She’s bandaging Seb’s burned arm now, talking. “Didn’t realize you two were a thing.”

 And Chris feels that impact, that whiplash, like a second smaller gut-punch.

 He can’t be upset about anything, no room for that emotion, not when Seb’s alive. Nothing but love, gratitude, bone-deep reprieve so acute he wants to start sobbing into Seb’s hair—

 And he’s just babbled words about how much he loves Sebastian. Aloud. All over the place. And Seb said it too, because Chris did, because Chris needed reassurance. When they haven’t made that announcement yet.

 He’s hot and cold, suddenly. Sebastian had wanted—though it’d been mostly for fun, for the timing of the announcement—to wait. To not say anything yet.

 But—Sebastian’s alive.

 And Seb must feel the sudden tension, the war of realizations happening in Chris’s muscles, because he shifts, glances up at Chris’s face, raises eyebrows. Gingerly lifts his oxygen mask again. “Chris.”

 “Stop doing that—”

 “Just. One thing.” A pause, a cough; but he’s sounding better. “I love you. What was it…you said? I fucking love you.”

 Chris tries to say Sebastian’s name. Emotion snarled in his throat. Clogging words.

 “Could’ve lost you. Or me. Just now.” Seb breathes, in and out. “I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to not say it. I love you, Chris Evans. For…fucking always.”

 “Yes,” Chris says, Chris is saying, words tumbling and falling all over themselves and pouring out, “yes, yes, god, fuck, yes, I love you, I love you so much, Sebastian—I want that too, I want this, I want everyone to fucking know how much I love you—always, always, yes.”

 Sebastian’s eyes are sparkling by the time he finishes, even above the oxygen mask. Their paramedic says happily, “Congratulations,” while beaming at them both, checking Seb’s vitals, making sure he’s doing fine.

 Other people are coming over, led by Mackie; a wave of concern rushes their way. There’ll be some cameras, too, Chris knows.

 He doesn’t care. He’s holding Sebastian, holding onto Sebastian: the love of his life, because they are both alive, alive and here and rock-solid together. The soundstage is smoking and groaning, and there’ll be rebuilding and filming delays and rescheduling to contend with, plus the news story their love life’s about to become, and that’s all okay, because it’s all real and true.

 Sebastian’s breathing. So Chris is too. And he knows they’re both going to be just fine.

[minuteminx]

Revolutionary

[NEW FIC ALERT!!]

Pairing: Preston Garvey/ Female Sole Survivor

Summary: In the aftermath of personal tragedies, Preston and Charlie both seek to make a difference in the Commonwealth and those around them. They could never anticipate the impact that they will have on eachother in the process.

[AO3 Link]

Chapter One: Paul Revere

“You cannot buy the revolution. You cannot make the revolution. You can only be the revolution. It is in your spirit, or it is nowhere.” ― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed

Qunicy Ruins, June 2288

When Preston was a kid, he’d sit with his dad on their tattered rug as the man picked lackadaisically at the strings of an ancient guitar.  He’d wax all sorts of poetic about the past, the times before the war, before the bombs fell, before everything was rads and raiders and running from bands of ferals.  It was that Great Commonwealth Myth of a pre-war paradise, of big ideals, and boundless opportunity.  A myth that one would hear refuted if they listened closely enough to grumbles from ghouls who’d managed to keep their sanity over the two centuries since the end of the world.

The myth was a lie, for sure, one Preston had clung to for most of his life.  But he couldn’t anymore, not as he stood staring at the massive pile of ashes that used to be his comrades and the settlers they attempted to protect.  The bastards who murdered all of those people were direct descendents from the monsters who made weapons with enough power to wipe entire regions off the map.  There was no paradise; it was just a prettier picture.

The Quincy settlement, if he could still call it that, looked a lot different since the last time he’d seen it, surrounded by junk fences and lined with barbed wire at the top.  Buildings were tagged with Gunner graffiti, and the streets were quiet as the mass grave that the settlement had turned out to be. It really didn’t make much sense.  Shouldn’t it have been some sort of bustling Gunner stronghold after Clint and his buddies went to all that trouble to claim it?

“I don’t like this,” Charlie remarked suddenly, her raspy voice a quick reminder that he wasn’t alone, hadn’t been alone for over eight months now.  He turned to face her, eyes flicking around the ruins to the seven other Minutemen who’d come along.  Millie was the only one who noticed him, and she gave him the least reassuring smile he’d ever seen.

“Neither do I,” he agreed as he returned his gaze to Charlie.  “Not one bit.”

“It wasn’t like this when I got away,” Millie added, glancing around the square, “I know that there had been mention of disagreements between Clint and the other bosses, probably because he has the leadership ability of a bloatfly.”

Preston smirked. “Now, Millie, I think that’s giving him too much credit.”

She laughed and opened her mouth to reply to him, but an explosion rang out instead as a launched projectile crashed into one of the buildings just ahead of them.  She eyed the area frantically before locking onto the rooftop of the church. “Shit. It’s Baker.”

“Baker?” He snapped his gaze up to the walkway, catching a glimpse of a figure clad in power armor and wielding a goddamned fat man.

“He’s one of the other bosses… and it looks like he found himself a new toy.”

Preston sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, running through the list of possible strategies in his head.  “We need to fall back,” he muttered under his breath decisively, then looked up to make the suggestion to Charlie, to the general, “We need to fall b--”

She’d already taken off toward the church, a pistol in either hand, without giving a single order to him or the others.  He wanted to drop everything and chase after her, to stop her from running directly into danger, just once. But someone had to give some kind of instruction before Baker launched a nuke directly on top of them.   He waved his hand over his head and back toward the gates, motioning for the others to head back out of the middle of town. “Fall back.  Head up to the walkways if you can.  We can’t win this from the ground.”

Millie remained where she stood as the others fled to safety.  “I’ll get these guys into position,” she stated, then nodded in the direction Charlie had run, “You go fetch your general.”

“But--” Another mini nuke exploded, in the distance this time, and his stomach lurched.  

“Go.”  She flicked her wrist in a shooing motion. “You’re not gonna be any use back here worried about her out there trying to pistol whip Baker to death.”

He snorted out a laugh despite the gravity of the situation, the image of the rail thin red-head successfully tackling him down, power armor and all, and smacking the butt of her favorite 10mm into his nose.  Honestly, he’d seen her get away with wilder things.  He tipped his hat at his long time friend, gave his musket a quick crank, and ran off after his wildcard general.

He faced little resistance on his way to the church, only a couple of Gunner conscripts crossed his path, and he was able to take them out easily.  It looked like a lot of their efforts were focused on Millie and the others at the gates and climbing up the walkways. It was for the best, but it didn’t make him worry any less for their safety.

When he finally reached the church, it was too quiet, especially for somewhere Charlie was supposed to be.  There was no gunfire, no talking, nothing.  Just silence.  Preston scanned the area, heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest.  After everything Charlie had been through, all she’d survived, she couldn’t be dead now, not while doing a favor for him, not with all that unfinished business between them. She couldn’t.

Several moments passed, and there were still no signs of life in the area.  He decided to head inside the church, figure out how to get up to the roof for a better view.  Just as he moved toward the door, a loud clank of metal sounded behind him and he spun on his heels, weapon readied.  

It was the traitor himself that he turned to face, Clint, in his hulking suit of stolen power armor, a militia hat perched disrespectfully atop his buzz cut head.  He still wore sunglasses that were so reflective that Preston could see his own furious face in the lenses. Clint let out an arrogant chuckle, and stomped up closer.

“Well, well, well,” he mocked, “What do we have here? Paul Revere himself?”

“Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen.”  He didn’t know why he felt the need to correct a man he intended to kill, but the words slipped out.

“I know who you are.  Read all about you in Ol’ Ezra’s holotapes.” Clint laughed again. “And the Minutemen don’t exist anymore.  I got rid of the last of ‘em, myself.

“You missed one,” Preston remarked, dryly.

“What? You? Ha!.” Clint shook his head. “And that merry band of farmers you marched in through the front gate with?  Kind of a rookie move, there, son.”

“ Don’t call me son,” Preston spat, venom filling his mouth.  

Before he could react, Clint’s armored fist slammed into his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him flying back against the rusty skeleton of an old car.  Preston’s head crashed against the metal, and pain pulsed out from the point of impact throughout his whole head.  His vision spun around him, creating a double of the man who towered over him.  He felt sick to his stomach, and couldn’t quite figure out how to get back to his feet or where his weapon went.  Darkness crept in at the corners of his vision.

“I hate mouthy punks,” Clint growled.

Preston attempted to speak, but couldn’t find words in the chaos of his head.  He mumbled something even he couldn’t interpret.

“Oh man,” Clint exclaimed, smirk twisting on his face, “You’re really making this easy, Garvey.  Can’t say you live up to Ezra’s praise. What in the goddamned wasteland made you think you could rebuild the Minutemen?  You can’t even take a punch.  Pathetic.”

As Clint spoke, Preston noticed a blur of movement behind the other man.  He knew his eyes must have been playing tricks on him because it looked as if the air vibrated like it sometimes did in highly irradiated areas.  Quincy wasn’t one of those places.  The only other thing it could be was a--

Just as he thought the word stealth boy , the wobble in the air dissipated, and Charlie stood no more than ten feet behind Clint.  She slowly raised a finger to her lips in a shushing motion, and readied her weapon to aim.  Preston couldn’t keep the relief washing over his face, mouth twitching at the corners. She was alive, and not only that, she’d come to save him once again. Mama Murphy really did hit the nail on the head all those months ago.

“Why are you smiling,” Clint asked abruptly, lifting his laser rifle, locking it straight in the direction of Preston’s chest.  “What’s so fucking funny, huh?”

“Nothing, man,” Preston managed, words slurring, “Nothing at all.”

At that moment, Charlie unleashed a terrifying barrage of shots into Clint’s armor, damaging the legs so severely that they locked in place, and Clint had to jump out.  “What the--” he began, and turned around, to face his attacker.  “You little bitch .”

He attempted to raise his weapon and aim at her, but before he could get there, she’d pulled her trigger.  Preston couldn’t make out where she’d shot Clint, but the man dropped his gun and fell to his knees, before falling to his face.  Charlie holstered her pistols, and stared down at the man she’d just killed, expression as flat as he’d ever seen it.

“I’m not a bitch,” she muttered, shaking her head before setting her gaze on Preston, worry knitting her brows as soon as their eyes met.  She rushed over to where he sat, up against the car he’d been thrown into, and knelt down, cupping his face with a gloved hand on either side and turning his head to the left and then the right, clearly examining him for injury.  She flipped a switch on her PipBoy, flashing a bright beam of light into each of his eyes.  He squinted and shook his head, causing her to giggle, but he could hear the tears and sniffling between laughs.  

“You’re okay,” she assured him, pressing an unexpected kiss to his forehead, “Looks like you might have a concussion, but you’re safe.  I’m here.”

“You’re really scary sometimes, you know that,” he stated, words still stumbling out of his mouth clumsily.  

She laughed nervously and glanced away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  “I’m sorry, I just… I’d just watched Clint knock you into this car, and he was about to kill you and I just--.”

“No,”  he corrected her, grin spreading across his face, “It’s kinda hot.”

She snorted and a tear rolled down her cheek, dripping off her chin.  “Jesus, you hit your head harder than I thought.”

“It’s still the truth,” he admitted weakly, vision closing in entirely.  The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness entirely, was her voice calling his name.  

“Preston?”

[tcheschirewrites]

Happy New Year!

Part of me wanted to do a Year In Review post, like I’ve seen a few other creators do, but instead of talking about myself (which I do for the entire rest of the year anyway lmao), I’m gonna do a reclist instead, of the best fics I’ve read this year. A lot of it is BNHA, because that’s been my main fandom for 2020, but I did spend a decent amount of time in other spaces. If you see a **, that means there’s boning at some point – if the fic is in bold, then there’s a lot of boning. I @ed their Tumblr if I knew it off the top of my head, but I may have missed some.

BNHA

Don't Yuck Her Yum by rumblefish ( @rumbllefish) (League of Villains Gen)

Complete – A quick disclaimer, pia is a mutual and a friend. That being said, this is such a cute little snapshot into the LOV with everyone’s favorite Found Family trope. Now, I’ll admit to being additionally biased because pia gave me that sweet sweet Dadpress food, but her Spinner is also on point. Short and sweet.

the Issue of the Jeanist Corpse (the Jorpse) by Princeliest (Hawks & Jeanist Gen)

Complete – Witty and hilarious, a deleted scene when Hawks went to visit Best Jeanist before War Arc. I love how antsy Hawks is, and how fussy Jeanist. Also, I’m a sucker for putting a j at the beginning of everything for Jeaninst.

Queer Eye: We're In Japan! And There Are Pro Heroes Everywhere!! by night_of_the_living_trashcan (Background Erasermic Family)

Complete – I love a good Queer Eye fic, and this one is so spot on. The Fab Five couldn’t get a better candidate than Aizawa (well, almost; see below). And I’m a sucker for Erasermic family.

 **Yesterday's Gods by Karzai (All Might/Reader)

WIP - Reader character is an ex-military doctor who comes to work at UA. If you’re a fan of very well-developed backstories, and reader characters that are their own people, then this is the fic for you. This fic gives me huge Newsroom vibes - we’ve got a past romance, and the tension after years apart. We get present day when they are older and more jaded, and we get the backstory of the reader character and All Might when they were young and spry.

**surrender (whenever you're ready) by OfMermaids ( @ofmermaidstories) (Bakugou/Reader)

WIP - Bakugou accidentally destroys a florist’s shop. Bar none the best Bakugou fic out there - his characterization is so on point. He is grouchy but so vulnerable, he’s coarse and soft and insecure and such a perfectionist. The relationship with the reader character develops very naturally, and the chapters are long. Bonus, we get some bangin’ Kiri as well.

 **if i could keep cool by andypantsx3 ( @andypantsx3) (Todoroki/Reader)

Complete – I’m in love with the premise of the fic: a hired cleaner gets kidnapped due to a misunderstanding of the romantic variety. Andie’s Todo is well written, and the pacing of the story is nice and tight. An easy read.

 **Subject: RAPTOR by Tainted_Wine ( @tainted-wine)(Hawks/Reader)

Complete – The villains have turned Hawks into a Nomu, and reader works collecting semen for the facility for breeding purposes. Bigtime monster-fucking, but it’s very poignant and well-done. Very long, but well worth the time.

 **My Hero by HeroAssociation(Aizawa/Reader)

WIP – Reader character is a milf whose son enters a contest to meet his favorite hero and wins. The author’s Aizawa is really good, and the scenes with the reader’s son are very realistic for maternal love. And, I cannot emphasize this enough, reader character is a milf. It’s incomplete, and hasn’t updated in a while, but the premise is so cute I can’t not include it.

 suffer the signs by advantagetexas(Aizawa/Reader)

Complete – Baby’s first hanahaki. Honestly a very cute little hanahaki – no angst or sads, just two idiots in love. A nice quick read.

 But they're soft... by coffee_dessert (Aizawa/Reader)   

Complete – Aizawa gets turned into a cat by a villain’s quirk, and the reader character takes care of him until it wears off. I’ve heard this premise is popular? But I haven’t seen too too many, and this one is very well executed. Aizawa’s characterization is solid, and the pacing is very good. A very sweet read.

**no grave to hold my body down by Hawnks (supermintfluff) ( @hawnks)(Shinsou/Reader)

Complete – Pro Hero Shinsou saves the reader character, and they keep running into each other. This one is a good character study on adult Shinsou, and Hawnks’ writing is always very clean and lovely. I recommend going through their entire selection.

Love Like You by Queen_Kai (Shinsou/Reader)

Complete – Color Soulmate AU with a villain reader. Very cute, and I adore Shinsou’s characterization in this one. I honestly wish there was more, but it stands on its own very well.

Naruto

**Maid with Benefits by awolangel (Akatsuki/Reader)

WIP – Reader is hired to be a live-in maid to the Akatsuki, and also have lots of sex. This fic is hilarious, and so well characterized. The pacing is actually really good, as well as the development of all of the relationships. There are some characters that get more attention than others, but we do get a nice spread. Very fun escapism fic.

Moonshine by Victopteryx ( @ancharan) (HashiMada)

Complete – Prohibition Era Bootlegging AU. Author’s handle on both Madara and Hashirama is incredible (and they draw their own fanart, and it’s also incredible). A whole-ass meal.

Tobirama Kicks Some Sense Into Konoha by allseer15 (Tobirama&Naruto Gen) 

Complete – Tobirama gets sent back in time due to an accidental jutsu, and is horrified at the way Konoha is run, and promptly Rampages over it. Wonderful catharsis for anyone who wondered why it was okay for a rich-ass old man to just leave an infant a welfare check and a shitty apartment and dip out on his development even though he has the equivalent of a nuclear warhead in his upper intestine.

Misc

**Clouds by moriamithril (Star Wars Rogue One, Cassian Andor/Reader)

Complete – Reader character is a handler/assistant type figure to Cassian over a series of missions. We get a lot of emotions in this one – we get the tenderness of caring for someone who is ill, we get devotion, we get yearning, we get delicious jealousy. Well written and lovely.

Fresh Coat by scrapmetal (The Mandalorian, Boba & Din Gen)

Complete – Fantastic Boba and Din, the Mando culture representation we deserve. I’m love.

**A Far Greater Sin (Reader version) by Yavannie (The Mandalorian, Din Djarin/Reader)

Complete – Reader is a healer, and builds a relationship with Mando over the course of a couple decades. Great pacing, great RC development, and the author’s Mando is quite good. The premise/setting gives me wicked fantasy vibes, even though it’s obviously In Space, but that’s definitely a draw.

who's gonna save us now (when the ashes hit the ground) by chancellor_valdez (Ready or Not, Grace/Daniel)

Complete – My favorite of the “Grace and Daniel Survive Together” subgenere, this one is very raw with its emotions. There’s a lot of hurt, and there’s a lot of self-harming coping mechanisms. Recovery is ugly, and the author did a very good job showing us that. And their ending was lovely.

not your garden variety demon lord by rizahawkaye (Inuyasha, SanSessh)

Complete – Sango takes care of Rin sometimes, and gets confused when Sesshoumaru brings her gifts. The author’s Sessh is so good, and it’s a great exploration of a relationship we don’t see much of.

Mine Enemy by Ayrith (Inuyasha, InuSan)

Complete – I love this fic, okay. Fantastic character study in Sango and a lot of the rougher parts of her that canon shied away from, and the author’s Inuyasha characterization is fucking great. Just go read this, yes.

Frozen Plus One by Meowzy (Frozen, HansAnna)

WIP – Troll AU, ie the trolls cursed Hans and that’s why he is That Way. Look, this author has done such a good job with all of the characters. Their voices are very distinct, and it’s not a reach at all to see how it could have gone differently. And we get some sweet HansAnnaKris action, and it is just as we deserve. Honestly, this fic is so well written, it deserves the world.

Knives In by anomalation (Knives Out, Marta/Ransom)

Complete – My favorite of the Pen Pals subgenre, this one is a fantastic slow burn. Ransom is really forced to face himself, and Marta is such a babe. Meg makes a few appearances, and her confusion over her place in the world is really well done. A great enemies-to-lovers.

It's Not Anxiety, It's a Parasite by squadrickchestopher (Venom, Queer Eye)

Complete – Look, I’ve mentioned before, but I love a good Queer Eye fic. Eddie gets what he deserves, and the symbiote couldn’t be more happy. So funny and clever.

You Find Yourself in a Maze by FloaromaMeadow ( @zombiekaiba) (S0 Atem Gen)

Complete – Very short and very poignant, the style is modeled after text-based command games. It fits super well with the Season 0 aesthetic, and there’s so much punch in each command.   

Gaud's Grinch x Tony Fix-it Fic by gaudy_writes ( @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses)

WIP – Look, I know, all right. Just read it.

[blackcloverthots]

okay okay so if it’s not too much can I request a scenario of Nacht with his crush where she is hella powerful but no one knows about it until one day while being in a battle she gets like super super angry and she frees all her power like charmy with rill, like how he would react? Or act ahshsjsh I want more content about him ahshsh thank you in advance I love your blog so much and it’s amazing how you write 💕💕💕

Thank you so much for your kind words, I appreciate them a lot. <3 I’m very happy you like my blog!

I made this scenario reader insert and made the main characters magic pretty vague (so you could pick what magic they have), I hope that's okay!

Word count: 907

Trigger warnings: N/A

The Black Bulls were in battle formation in a clearing surrounded by a forest. Nacht and Yami were at the front of the formation, and the rest of the Black Bulls behind them. Y/N  was in the back of the formation, as everyone thought she was still too weak to go on the front lines. It’s not that she was weak, it was just that everyone thought her powers wouldn’t be able to handle their new foe.

A Spade Kingdom mage stood in front of them, a crooked smile on his face. His magic spiraled around everyone in the form of black smoke. 

“Oh, you’re approaching me?” He snickered. “You weak misfits wouldn’t have enough power to beat me in five hundred years, even with your little devils.”

Nacht’s Mona Lisa smile appeared on his face as Gimodelo twitched on his shoulder. He knew the Spade mage wasn’t wrong about the others, but it irritated him to be looked down upon by such an evil force. 

The other Black Bulls started to yell retorts to the mage, Asta’s voice the loudest out of the bunch. Y/N wanted to yell at the mage as well, but couldn’t lie about being nervous fighting. It was her first major battle; what if she messed up? 

The mage answered their retorts with a massive attack. All of the Black Bulls, save for Yami, Nacht, and Y/N. While the others were trying to gain their breath back, Yami and Nacht immediately went on the attack. The still smiling mage easy dodged all their attacks, his black smoke magic simultaneously attacking and protecting.

Y/N stood there, trying to figure out what to do. She didn’t want to get in her seniors way, but she wanted to be of some sort of help. The other Black Bulls didn’t hesitate; they ran right in, all of them working together to take down the mage.

Out of nowhere a clone of him appeared. And then another. And another. Soon there were hundreds of his clones surrounding the forest. 

“What is this?” Vanessa gasped, trying to figure out which of the giggling mages was their real enemy. 

“It must be like my real double.” Gauche guessed, using that move himself to add another set of hands to their battle.

“Oh how pitiful you are, thinking that my Shadow Clones are anything like your little mimicries.” 

The mage was laying on his broom, his eyes closed, as if the magic the Black Bulls were throwing at him was a mere inconvenience to his naptime. “You may have defeated some elves or whatever, but you are fools if you think you can injure me.”

All of his clones started to produce black smoke. Soon the blue sky was gone, and the sky looked like ash that had just left a raging volcano. The air grew stuffy, and it became harder to breathe. 

The Black Bulls started to stagger, including Yami and Nacht. Grey passed out, then Charmy, then Finral, and they continued one by one until only Nacht and his crush stood. 

“Y/N! Get out of here!” Nacht yelled, understanding that he would have to use part of his darkest devil powers to remove this mage. 

Instead she started to walk directly towards the mage. There was no longer any fear in her body. 

“Y/N!” Nacht yelled again, trying to gain her attention. The Spade mage opened one eye, and looked down at her as she walked towards him.

“Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me? I guess I can play with you for a bit.”

All of the sudden, a strong magic force came from Y/N. Her grimoire’s pages violently flipped back and forth, as if they couldn’t pick a spell inside it worthy of the magic leaving her body. 

Some of the clones started to disappear from the power she was admitting. The mage sat up, alarmed by what he saw. 

“Hey! What are you doing?” He panicked, looking around at his clones disappearing. 

Y/N ignored him, her mana growing with every passing second. Nacht watched, his eyes widening with surprise, at the power he saw emanating from her. He didn’t do anything to help her; he stood back to see what she could do.

With one swoop of her arm Y/N’s magic had blown away almost all of the clones. They disappeared with a pop when her magic hit them, as if they were nothing more than a speck of dust on a table.

“You….who are you?” The Spade Mage snarled, opening his grimoire to another page. “I’ll kill you!” 

“Just try.” 

Y/N magic threw the mage back, he flew off his broom and hit the ground somewhere in the forest. Unluckily for him, where he landed was where the rest of the Black Bulls had regrouped, which led to a battle in which the Black Bulls finally got their punches in.

After throwing him back, Y/N’s mana calmed down. Nacht watched in disbelief as she returned right back to normal. She turned around to look at him and smiled. 

“Are you okay, Nacht?”

Nacht gave a small smile, and went and patted Y/N on the head. “I’m fine.”

He looked at her in the eyes, and her orbs gazed back into his. “But, you’re going to have to tell me which devil you’re somehow hiding.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side, a more blank expression on her face.

“What do you mean?”