#it's very let my love be the knife fic coded

[tennessoui]

happy mother's day you should celebrate by reading my fic where obi-wan raises luke on tatooine

[blues824]

characters of your choice with a yor forger like reader/mc? this is for any fandom

We are going to make this a Diasomnia fic. Female-coded reader who is called ‘mama’, and Anya is here because why not.

Malleus Draconia

When someone says the word assassin, he typically thinks of someone who is killing someone just for money. There is no emotion, no words, just a killer. That was, until the first time he met you. He trespassed onto Ramshackle, as he had a love of exploring old, abandoned buildings, when he was immediately tackled to the floor. He looked to see who was now straddling him only to see the most beautiful person in the world.

“If I may ask, who are you and what are you doing here, sir?” The last thing he expected to hear was you politely asking him something. You held no fear in your eyes, but rather curiosity, even as you held a weapon of some sort against the dragon fae’s neck. To be fair, he could easily use his magic to save himself, but he kind of wanted to know what would happen if he let this play out.

“I would rather you not know my identity, but I am here just to explore Ramshackle. I was not aware that it was being inhabited, otherwise I would not have appeared without an invitation.” He watched you as you glared into his eyes, trying to see if he was lying. Well, you deemed him trustworthy and got off of him. You then put your hairpin back in your pocket and awkwardly apologized. He was just glad that his new friend was able to defend themself.

Then, a little girl peaked out from the stairs and called out for you, mama. This surprised Malleus, as he did not know you had a child. Again, he had only had a rather… interesting… introduction with you just a few moments ago. You both could tell that this would be a very intriguing friendship… or relationship in the future.

Both of you grew close over the next few overblots. It was hard not to, especially when he was so helpful in both taking them down and cleaning them up. He grew close to Anya, who also wasn’t afraid of him and knew that he was just a lonely (thus eligible) bachelor. Her and Lilia were totally working together in playing matchmaker. Actually, whenever the dragon prince visited you and your daughter, it would be like a small glimpse into a possible future with you.

He obviously would take over the cooking while you took over the cleaning. You stated your desire to live as normal a life as you could while you were here. The prospect of you, the person who he now sees as his honorary spouse, and Anya, the girl who he sees as his honorary daughter, going back to your original world upset him greatly. You gave him a sense of domesticity, but he knows that you never planned on staying.

Lilia Vanrouge

Maybe he shouldn’t have been going around and scaring the underclassman. To be fair, a lot of them merely just jumped from the sudden surprise of a person hanging from the ceiling upside down. However, that was not the case with you. You not only nearly punched him in the face, but also pulled him down and flipped him to the ground, then proceeded to straddle him and hold a knife to his neck.

“I don’t think this is going to work, my dear,” he said with a smile as he quickly flipped you over and straddled you instead while holding a small switchblade to your neck. “I prefer being on top, but I believe that I should take you to dinner before anything happens.” He stood up and offered you his hand before saying, “I am Lilia Vanrouge, knight of His Royal Highness, Malleus Draconia.”

You introduced yourself as the Prefect of Ramshackle, and told him that you were heading back there now. So, being the gentleman that he was and being kind of sad about scaring you, he offered to walk you back. You agreed, and you both made your way to your rickety, old dormitory. He noticed that you were a bit socially awkward, so he kind of carried the conversation.

Almost immediately upon crossing the threshold of your dorm, a little girl rushed up to you and yelled out ‘mama!’. The sight was adorable for the old bat fae to witness, and he asked who the ‘young damsel’ was. You told him that she was your adopted daughter, and he would have been surprised had you not been already shrouded in mystery.

Over the next few months, Lilia has grown closer to you. You both suck at cooking and while you are trying to get better, he still wants creative freedom. Thus, you often either order in or stick to the recipe. You often ask the ex-general if you are doing alright as a mother, and he often reassures you that there is no correct way to be a parent. You were doing your best with what you had, and you were doing exceptionally well.

You eventually became the mother figure to not only Anya, but also the rest of the Diasomnia crew. They considered your daughter to be their younger sister. Lilia stood next to you as the father figure, which honestly surprised everyone because you both were the exact opposite of each other. Silver has stated that this felt like the set-up to a weird sitcom, but treats you as though you were his mother… especially after you flipped Sebek over your shoulder during a training session.

Silver

When you met, you didn’t actually try to kill him. Instead, you were trying to make sure he was alive. He was asleep under a tree, and you saw him and decided to wake him up. You saw that he was alive as his chest was rising, and when his eyes opened up he was surprised to see somebody. However, his training as a knight had him convinced that you were trying to kill him.

Thus, he grabbed you by the shoulders and tackled you to the ground. He had a knife to your neck as he demanded to know your name and your business in trying to kill him, to which you responded by turning the two of you over and introducing yourself. You held one of your hairpins to his neck instead, and he had to admit that he finally got a good look at you. You then asked, rather politely, to introduce himself.

“I am Silver, a knight of His Royal Highness, Malleus Draconia.” You then got off of him and helped him up, as you explained that you were trying to make sure that he was alive as you had seen him asleep under the tree you were currently standing under. Now he was kind of embarrassed for overreacting, and he thanked you for your concern but assured you that it was a condition that he had that made him sleep a lot.

To apologize, he asked to accompany you back to Ramshackle, as his father has taught him to be a gentleman after making a mistake. You accepted his offer, and so you both made your way to the old dorm in which you resided. However, there was a small girl waiting on the steps to the door once you arrived, and she ran up to you to hug your legs. He asked who she was and you explained that it was your daughter, and she hugged him too out of nowhere. He was surprised, but it made his chest feel warm.

After he returned to Diasomnia, his father noticed that he had hearts in his eyes. The young knight told him that he met the prefect of Ramshackle and his heart was beating against his chest so passionately, and Lilia told him that he was in love. He thought it only existed in fairytales, as he never gave it a lot of thought. But, to be fair, not a lot of people have politely introduced themselves while holding a sharp hairpin to his neck.

So, he desired your company. He would often visit you in your dorm to take over the cooking, mainly because he knew you couldn’t cook and he didn’t want Anya (who he views as his daughter once you two become romantically involved) to suffer through what he had to go through as a child. When he graduates, his dream is to continue being a knight, but to also have a fairytale ending where you live a peaceful life with Anya in a cottage in a forest.

Sebek Zigvolt

Alright, so this is a funny story that you tell Anya later, but you met Sebek when you attacked him because he scared you with his loud voice. You specifically kicked him in the face to make him fall before grabbing one of your hairpins and holding it to his neck as you straddled his torso. However, in a surprising turn of events, you politely asked him to identify himself. Needless to say, he was unprepared for this. 

In a slight moment of fear, he told you his name and that he was a knight of the great Waka-sama, and you told him your name before you got off of him and helped him up. He commended you for your amazing display of your skills, and he shouted something about how he was ashamed to call himself an esteemed knight when he couldn’t defend himself in an ambush.

You kind of just awkwardly pat his back as you told him that it would be alright, and you would be willing to help him as an apology for attacking him. He accepted the offer, and he helped you pick up your books that you dropped and you both made your way to Ramshackle. However, there was one more surprise in the books.

Upon opening the door, a little girl ran into you and clung to your legs. Sebek demanded with a loud voice to reveal her identity. She picked up on his very professional attitude (most likely from reading his mind) and she stood straight with her chest puffed out as she stated that her name was Anya, and she was your daughter. The look of shock and confusion in the crocodile’s eyes almost made you laugh, and you explained that she was your adopted daughter from your world.

Hours later, when he returned to Diasomnia, Malleus, Lilia, and Silver each asked where he had been to obtain such bruises. He tells them that he visited the prefect of Ramshackle, who used to be an assassin and thus trained with him. He seemed to be very absentminded, which was very uncharacteristic for the First Year. He reported that his chest felt very warm as did his face, and the bat fae pieced it together: the boy was in love.

To say that he was not accepting of the truth would be an understatement. However, you were not a weak and magicless human. You sought to better yourself as a mother, and he respected that. He would often come over to cook something or give you a recipe, and you’ve even mastered his favorite dish and made it taste decent. However, you still mostly stuck to cleaning and making sure Anya trained well. Sebek never pictured himself with a family, but here he was.

[sketchyslushies]

Posting this here bc it’s the only place where ppl ik irl don’t follow me!!

Seabound fic!!! Kinda angst ig? It’s my first time writing a fic so don’t judge too bad ><

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Kinda spoilers for Seabound!!! And mainly Jay and Kai w a bit of Cole (not shipping!)((ok maybe VERY MINOR lava coded)) (((like blink and you miss it)))

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“She was my SISTER.”

Kai snapped, his eyes glaring straight at Jay. A silence fell over the ninja, none of them really knowing what to say. They’d never admit it, but they were useless without Nya. The team had struggled to stay civil in the beginning, and the cracks were starting to reform. It was only when Nya had become a ninja when they started realizing their groups potential. Kai’s stare stayed sharp on Jay, Jay looking back with his nervous yet persistent eyes. Kai just didn’t understand. He didn’t care. He didn’t know Nya like Jay did. He didn’t love her like Jay did. No one did. The others had gone back to normal life, albeit separated. But Jay, he stayed behind. He waited for her to come back. He knew that she would.

Jay would never know this, but Kai cared about Nya more than he cared about himself. If he really thought about it, he had practically raised Nya. She was his little sister, the reason he kept going when he had lost everything else. She was his light in the dark, the reason he even became a ninja in the first place. But he was too proud to say that, too arrogant to admit it.

“You didn’t even cry at her funeral.” Jay said, his electric eyes finally looking away from Kai’s. The other ninja all glanced at each other, stuck between interfering and letting Jay and Kai settle this themselves. It had only been a year since they all last saw each other, yet you’d assume they’d never met before. Tension spread throughout the room, thick enough to cut it with a knife. “It’s like you wanted her dead.”

“Jay, that’s enough.” Cole said, stepping in front of Kai to try to stop any more discourse. Jay was even dumber than everyone thought if he was purposefully egging Kai on. “We all miss Nya, and fighting about it won’t bring her back.” Jay looked away from Cole, scoffing, but backing off. Even he knew he was going too far.

“Whatever,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking away. “I’m going back to the lighthouse, it’s not like we’re doing anything anyway.” Jay reached for the mechanical door’s button, a hot flame burning his hand. “Ow! What the hell?!” He turned around to see Kai, his aim still good as ever. “What was that for, asshole!?” Jay sneered, not noticing Kai’s obvious anger rising. He walked up to Kai, pushing Cole out of the way. His words came out in a jumbled mess. “I seriously don’t get your problem, Kai. You didn’t give a shit about her when she was alive, and you clearly don’t care now that she’s gone. You’re just upset someone’s finally pointing out the fact that you only care about yourse-“

“Do you ever just shut the fuck up?!” Red screamed, punching Blue in the face. Jay fell to the ground, unable to react quickly enough before Kai threw in a few more punches. “You have no idea,” he shouted, “no FUCKING idea how much I care about Nya! Shut your stupid ass up before you say something you don’t know anything about!” Kai’s stature towered over Jay. Sure, he was only a few inches taller, but he was stronger and Jay knew he wouldn’t be able to do much held down to the ground. The other ninja wanted to step in, but couldn’t help but feel like Jay deserved this a bit. They really did all miss Nya, they just didn’t mourn like Jay did. He just didn’t get that. Kai’s fist would meet Jay’s bloodied face just a few more times before Kai paused. Just as he was about to land another punch, he stopped himself. Something he’d never done before. Jay looked up at Kai, noticing a difference in his expression. His dark red eyes were watering. His face stuck between anger and sadness. Jay felt a droplet of water fall onto his face. Was Kai…crying? That can’t be right. Kai’s never cried before. Was there even enough water in his system to do so? The team kind of just assumed his body heat had been too hot to manage water, but never really questioned it. Jay quickly scurried away from under Kai, leaving him still stuck in a punching position. He wiped his eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop coming. “I loved Nya more than anything in the world, Jay. I did. She was all I had for YEARS. Do you know how much it destroyed me when she left? How much it bothered me when everyone asked how YOU were doing? How YOU were handling her death? No one asked me how I was feeling with my sister dying,” he sniffled, rubbing his eyes and looking towards the ground. “I had to keep it together. If not the team, but for me. I was the face man, the cool one. A little loss wouldn’t do much to me, they said.” His voice warping in and out of a whisper and a sniffle. “I would do anything to get her back, Jay. You don’t even know how far I’d go for her.” Jay had never seen Kai like this. None of the ninja had. The fire ninja, the most dramatic of them all, looked so small in this moment. So vulnerable. His tear stained face was hardly visible to the team, yet everyone could tell exactly how he looked.

Jay stood up and stumbled towards Kai. His bruised body was staggering, struggling to keep upright. He kneeled by Kai, getting to his level. Cole and Zane carefully kept close, just in case Jay was about to get his revenge. Instead, he positioned Kai’s shoulders up to get him to sit upward. He got a really clear view of Kai’s face, his eyes and nose red, his tears smudging the dark eyeshadow he swore he didn’t have on. Jay wiped his tears away, before punching him back in the cheek. Cole practically ran up to Kai. After all, he did always have a soft spot for his firecracker. But, before he could stop Jay from hitting him again, the smaller boy pulled the bigger one into a hug. Blue’s arms wrapped around Red, a small voice muttering out a simple, “I’m sorry.”

Eyes wide open, Kai was surprised. Before he could say anything, he subconsciously tightened his grasp around the curly haired ninja, digging his face into his dark curls and letting his tears fall.

“I hate you.”

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Hope it was an ok read!! Lmk how you liked it/id there’s anything I can work on!

[le-trash-prince]

OKAY

OKAY OKAY OKAY

I GOTTA YELL MY FEELINGS OUT BEFORE I PUT MY ANALYSIS HAT ON

I LOVE HIM????? HE LACKS CONVICTION AND I LOVE HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Trying to convince everyone (himself included) that he’s loyal to Tony above all else, meanwhile he let Jeff escape!

He let Pete get away, TWICE!

He’s trying to let all these little things slip by unnoticed, trying to reduce the harm while still participating in the cycle and refusing to free himself

I have a lot of things to say about this scene but most of all I KNEW KENTA WAS HELPING JEFF

But also I agree with Babe THINK OF THE FUCKING CHILDREN KENTA!!!

You will not catch me ignoring Kenta’s crimes because they are central to his character and the inner conflict that defines his arc!

I know he’s about to truly step the fuck up in the last episode though, this is the shape of the story and I will not be convinced otherwise. He has already agreed to help X-Hunter by the time he is on his knees in front of Tony, I just fucking know it.

Words cannot express how much I enjoyed this scene I ate up EVERY FUCKING SECOND OF THIS. Sorry but I am EXTREMELY WEAK FOR THIS SHIT. Beg harder Kenta, please! Make him feel more worthless Tony, PLEASE! There is no point in me having a pathetically loyal dog coded blorbo if we don’t lean into his pathetically loyal dogginess as much as possible. Watching him beg this terrible heartless man for validation that he will never receive PROVIDES ME MENTAL ENRICHMENT ACTUALLY.

I have more to say about this scene I have WORDS I HAVE SO MANY WORDS

If Kenta doesn’t get to be the one to stab Tony I will be VERY sad. Everyone deserves to stab Tony but Kenta is the knife.

Will he finally get out of the house next week, though? Will I get the opportunity for missing scene fic where he and Kim share a room? Will I get a product placement scene of them brushing their teeth together? PROBABLY NOT but a dude can dream!!

I’ll be honest I was pacing so frantically before this episode I went out and did some fucking gardening. But even with no KimKenta scenes I enjoyed the shit out of this and I have eaten well thank you Pit Babe for making me lose my mind yet again, I’m gonna go dive into more cohesive thoughts soon!!

[cecethinks]

Joel Miller X Female Reader!

Set in episode 3

A/N This is my first Joel fic and it’s been a while since writing so bare with me;)

You were exited when you finally were able to meet the people on the radio, sure the road there felt endless but it was all worth it in the end. The first impression you got of Frank was that he had a trusting heart, you saw yourself in him. You both had met your significant other under odd circumstances and they were both very grumpy survivalists, but you both loved them. It wasn’t a secret that Bill didn’t trust either of you but as you spent more time talking he grew fond of you, especially since Frank practically forced him.

With frank it was a different story, you immediately got along after you had begun talking on the radio. Joel just wanted his help but you became friends with Frank and Bill.

The first time you spent with the guys Bill kept a close eye on his gun and kept quiet. You weren’t stupid, it was easy to see that he didn’t want you there. The first time he let go of his gun in its holster was when you were doing the dishes, the silence was awkward and you couldn’t stand it.

“So you’re like the cool survivalist uncle who lives of the land and trust no one?”

Right when you said it you worried he was going to shoot you, but to your surprise he chuckled, it wasn’t loud but you heard it. Later he had told you that you reminded you of his neeice whom he missed so dearly, she too was a very good speaker and Bill was more of a listener.

Before it was time to keep going you gave some of the strawberry seeds you had gotten at Joel’s ration place and traded it for a gun. You had told Frank to surprise Bill since you knew he liked strawberry wine.

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While hiking Joel was shocked at the speed of your stride but you couldn’t contain yourself, you missed talking to someone who wasn’t Ellie or Joel. Of course you loved them but Joel mostly spoke if he was spoken to and Ellie was a big talker like you but she wasn’t the smartest knife in the shed.

As you got closer and closer you started to get more anxious, you knew they wouldn’t use the code unless something was wrong. Joel’s reassuring hand on your shoulder made you feel safe but not less worried, he knew that you but your cuticles when you were stressed so he tried to put you at ease by holding your hand.

While you were hiking Ellie asked questions about Bill and Frank bad you were happy about telling her.

Right when you walked through the gate something was wrong, it hit you right in the stomach. And it got worse as you saw the wilted flowers by the gate to the house, you knew Joel felt it too.

Ellie hurriedly ran in the house while you and Joel shouted for Frank and Bill.

She started to look around the house when she got to the living room and picked up the letter along with the key.

“It’s from Bill.”

She looked up at Joel and he gave her an indication that she should keep reading.

“To whomever but probably Joel, I figured I fell under whomever. It came with this”

She slid the key on the dusty table, that is when everything really got to you.

Joel took of his backpack and walked over to the chair where Ellie was sitting and picked up the key.

“So they’re dead?”

He said it nonchalantly but you knew that it got to him.

Ellie nodded, and stretched out the letter in Joel’s direction.

“Do you wanna?”

But he turned, and let her read it.

“August 29, 2023.

If you find this.. please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell, but it will probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this ,Joel,because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted by my one of my traps hehehhehe. Take anything you need the bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse. Anyway, I never liked you, but still, it’s like we’re friends… Almost and I respect you, so I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did. I saved him and I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do. And good help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep Y/n safe”

Joel took the letter out of Ellie’s hand and reread it, and then he walked out of the room.

“Stay here”

You were pretty sure it was directed too the both of you but you followed him out to the front yard. This was one of those moments where you knew that all you needed to do was to be there for him. Your hands snaked around his arm and your head rested on his shoulder as tears silently rolled down your cheeks and on to Joel’s brown jacket.

You don’t know how long you stood there with him but it sure was a while. Joel let out a sigh and turned to face you, his big hands grabbed your face and smiled with sorrowful eyes before kissing your forehead. No words were shared between the two of you but not 1000 words could explain the feeling between you. And even though you were distraught about you friends it made you feel closer to each other then ever.

[pangolin-404]

for ship bingo: gabv1el (i dont know if i got their ship name right. oops)

(x) GAY PEOPLE COMING RIGHT UP

THEY'RE SO. INTERESTING. they want to kill each other so bad but also they are just about the only people who can survive each other. nobody else (aside from V2 Once) has escaped V1 alive and few have walked away from Gabriel unscathed

In canon, I feel like romantic feelings on Gabriel's side is Implied, or at least it's intentionally open for things to be read that way, but V1 is a blank slate which makes sense but man they did NOT have to write Gabriel so Like That. this is not a bad thing ! AND they're fated for one to destroy the other (probably V1 killing Gabriel before his fading light can kill him). can't wait for act 3 when they fistfight in a denny's parking lot

I feel like if they Were together their braincells would cancel out. mostly on V1's part. It is a war machine, it's not built for things like caring for people!! It was never coded with intention to feel anything, let alone romantic love! no idea what it's doing! trial and error! and while Gabriel is very familiar with close bonds and platonic relationships he does Not know how to handle whatever the hell V1 is doing. it's scuttling over him like a rat, it's leaving dead husks at his feet as gifts, it thinks using him for target practice is fun bonding, it's asleep on his legs and now he can't move or it'll wake up, and he's fighting for his life trying to understand its beeping and body language. in a world where gabriel would not collapse in on himself like a dying star I think they would be very closely knit. would care very much for each other

I half-picked "only exists in my head" because I feel I have a very specific view of V1 and if I ever see it super ""out of character"" from the version in my brain I go AGH!! and it's the same w/ Gabriel at times. I'm opening and closing ao3 like the fridge at 3am looking for more fics

and "no way this will end well" less from a relationship standpoint and more from a canon standpoint, because they're both going to die one way or another. canon Gabriel I think would go out with more unspoken baggage about his feelings to V1. there's something sad about that, about Gabriel maybe developing an affection for it, but dying before it can grow or he can confront those feelings. I don't think any of that would be stated but! imagine. imagine

thematically... they are thematically delicious yes.. gabriel driven to revolt by a creature of steel, driven by the very thing he views as nothing, mere object. v1 is a silent protagonist while I enjoy/prefer that this means lots of the juicy bits is from gabriel having a life crisis after getting the christianity beaten out of him twice by a roomba with a knife strapped to it

there are so many ways their relationship can be read!! they're fun to think about. rotating them in my brain

[vampire-caprisun]

We Can be Heroes CH1

Hello! Im finally going to start posting my cringe fan fiction on here and AO3, hopefully going to try to keep myself on a weekly release schedule but that might be subject to change depending on my current workload and job schedule. Thinking of making this two parts with the main story of bg3 being part one and an epilogue adventure being part 2.

Anyway this is my Tav Inala's story, shes a drow Ranger/Rogue seeking redemption and finding love and family in the process. Very durge coded without being a durge herself and I'm probably going to work in elements from the durge storyline into this fic since I love both.

Warnings: Voilence, talks of SH and suicide, talks of SA, drug use, alcohol consumption, lots of smut, mentions of past abuse, trauma and ptsd

Relationships: Astarion/named!Tav, Astarion/f!tav, Shadowzel, Wyllach, and some light implied Halsin/Astarion/Tav later on in the story if you squint.

Chapter 1: Love at First Knife

A bottle shattered next to a pair of boots. Their owner stumbled through the forest heading in no direction in particular. She was very drunk, barely registering that her poorly bandaged hand was bleeding again. It didn't matter anyway, if something in the woods didn't kill her tonight her former boss absolutely will later. 

“I deserve it.” She slurred to no one in particular. “I deserve all of this.” Her eyes began to leak fat tears again. A year ago she was a different person, ruthless, capable, on track to be one of the most in demand assassins on the Sword Coast. Then everything changed the moment that sorceress’ lips pressed against her own. The bitterness, the misanthropic behavior melted away and she was left confused and deconstructed. Was this truly who she wanted to be? Could she be more than a blade in the dark? Nyra sure thought so, before her throat was cut. Now the Dread Raven wanders the woods alone again, intoxicated and haunted by ghosts who saw something better in her. “I can't do this Nyra,  I can't.” She sobs as if talking to someone who isn't there. “I'm not a good person, I never have been. Fuck why'd you have to die I dont know what I'm doing, why’d you have to fucking leave?!” she screams into the dark, her voice going hoarse. 

“Show me what to do or let me end please.” She was begging now, begging her dead lover, the gods, anyone who would listen really. “I don't want to be alone anymore.” The drow sobs quietly as she comes to the edge of a steep cliffside, a peaceful beach below it with waves crashing into the rocks. It would be so easy, just a couple more steps…..but she stops as if something won't let her continue. “You are so much more than what they made you to be Inala.” Nyra’s words echoed in her brain as if she was still here. “Fight for it. Fight for you and everyone else this fucked up world screwed over. If anyone can change their stars its you. Fight back.” the drow crashed to her knees. 

“Ok.” She said quietly tears falling onto the rock below her. “Fuck you. You win, I'll fight.” she sighed swaying with the wind a bit as she cast her eyes upwards to the stars. “I want to live.” she whispered to herself. Then just as her drunken hallucinations had reached their final crescendo one more massive one appeared in front of her. Raw fear gripped the drow’s heart as a tentacle shot forward from the massive ship. Well so much for wanting a second chance.

____________________

Inala groaned and rolled onto her side, her head pounding with what might be the worst hangover in history. This is why she doesn't like sleeping too often. What a gods damn weird dream. Illithids, a Githyanki, apparently they drove a Nautaloid through Avernus? She wanted to just lay there for a bit longer until her head stopped screaming at her and the nausea subsided but the smell of fire and destruction had her up quickly. Oh gods. It wasn't a dream. 

She had been on this ship and crashed it into the beach. Somehow her rock bottom had just become so much worse. The drow stood up on wobbly legs, her long raven hair tangled and caked in sand, her makeup smudged across her freckled cheeks and she was pretty sure she reeked of gore and whiskey. She dared not look at her reflection right now but at least she's not a mindflayer. Well, not yet. Right, healer find a healer. Wasn't that one shadow woman a cleric? Shit maybe she lived? 

The ranger stretched and groaned, her body sore and her mind still foggy. She breathed in, taking in her surroundings searching for signs of survivors from the crash. Find the cleric. 

Inala didn't have to wander far, the dark haired woman laid on her back intact and what looked to be mostly unharmed. She noticed her hand clutched that strange artifact she had seen on the ship that had been quickly hidden away from her the moment she took interest in it. The drow thought for a moment, eyes flicking to the cleric and then to the glowing object. She decided to carefully reach out to it hoping to get a better look at whatever valuable item this half elf was keeping hidden, maybe even use it as leverage…then suddenly she was caught, the cleric sat upright holding a knife to the drow’s chest. Inala backed up hands in the air. “Sorry!” she grinned sheepishly “I was just looking!” 

“And why would I believe you?” The half elf eyed her with suspicion. Inala felt the thing in her head squirm then connect to the cleric, their thoughts and intentions shared with another. They both stumbled back. 

“That thing they put in our heads you…you have the same one?” The half elf stuttered. 

“What the hells was that? You were in my head!?” the drow snarled, her hangover not helping the trobing that came from the worm's activity in her skull.

“I…I don't know. I remember the ship I remember falling then nothing. That's all I know. They….they put something in our heads.”

The two women stared at one another in a stalemate, then finally Inala set her weapons on the ground putting up her empty hands “Look we need to cooperate if we're going to live through this. I don't want to become a mindflayer and I'm guessing you dont either. Where's the green woman?” 

“Lae'zell? She seems to have run off without us. Seems like I'm more reliable than your friend.” the half elf smirked putting her own knife away and crossing her arms.

Inala glared now rubbing her head “Well do you have any ideas on how to fix this then? Because she was the only person who seemed to have some sort of knowledge of what happened to us.” 

“No, but first things first we need supplies and shelter.”

Inala smiled at that, finally something in her wheelhouse. “Leave that to me. I've lived outdoors all my life. I can throw a camp together for us if you agree to cooperate. I want this worm out just as much as you do.” 

“Alright we help each other then. You can call me Shadowheart. That's all you need to know.”

“Fine. You can call me Inala and that's also all you need to know.” they nodded at one another both sensing the other was also a very guarded and private individual. They set off to salvage through the wreckage not encountering much but a few walking brains to fight. Finding the githyanki in this mess was going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack. What Inala would give to have her crows right about now…Wherever they are. Her poor feathered friends were probably worried sick about her. She'd find them soon and then she'd pack up and leave. Go somewhere far away where no one knew of her past alias or the horrible things she had done. Maybe join a circus or something who knows at this point. 

Hours passed until they came out through a section of wreckage that opened up to a clearing overlooking the beach below. A disoriented man stood at the edge of the cliff and the ranger paused. 

“There's someone up ahead.”

The pale elf turned to the two women. He waved frantically in their direction shouting “Help!” To them as they approached. 

“Do you see it? There in the bushes I got one of those brain things cornered. You can kill it can't you?” He pointed out towards the beach. Inala glared at him eyeing his fancy embroidery and flashy purple doublet. Her eyes traced his slender form to the dagger on his hip. 

“You seem pretty capable, kill it yourself.” Inala grumbled unimpressed with this city dwelling noble, he reminded her of the pricks she used kill for. The drow turned to leave and then with almost supernatural speed and silence she felt a cool blade at her throat as she was pulled to the ground. 

“Shhhhhhh not a sound not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” he purred as she struggled then turned to her companion. “And you keep your distance no need for this to get messy.”

Was this fool serious? Inala could kill him in three different ways if she wanted to and wipe that smug grin right off his pretty face. “Really wish people would stop pulling knives on me today.” She groaned and the elf pressed the blade into her throat a little more. 

“Now now I just want to talk. I saw you on the ship didn't I? Nod.” He gave the command and the drow glared at him her eyes becoming silver slits as she obeyed. 

“Good.” he purred and then twisted the knife upwards when she struggled. “You're in league with them aren't you? Those tentacled-” the drow slammed her forehead into his before he could finish seeing an opportunity in the city elf's paranoia and taking it. He stumbled back holding his head as Shadowheart ran to assist her. The pale elf snarled his red eyes going dark as he shifted his grip on his dagger “You little-AH” in that moment their heads connected. Inala could see through his eyes, the dark alleyways the noisy taverns, the fear the pain. In moments they saw into each others souls. The elf's eyes widened a bit as she flooded his mind, flashes of an arrow sailing into a body with a thud, the excited screaming of corvids, the isolation and familiarity of darkness. They held their heads and stared at each other for a beat recognizing more than just a shared parasite affliction. 

“What was that what's going on?” He demanded. 

“Those things did something to us. The worms they're connected I think.” The drow snapped at him glaring in his direction. 

The stranger straightened himself dropping his blade “You're …you're not one of them, they took you just the same as me.” 

“I'm trying to find a cure so we don't become mindflayers. I saw it happen on the ship and I won't be sharing the same fate.” 

“Turn us into mindflayers I- aha hahahaha!” He paused and began to laugh to himself while the horror and pain were evident behind his eyes. “Of course it will turn me into a monster.” He sighed sadly. 

She stared at the pale beautiful man in fancy embroidery. He wouldn't last a day out here on his own and he did get the jump on her, he could be useful potentially. 

“My name is Astarion. I was a magistrate in Baldur's Gate when those things grabbed me.”

The drow glanced up at him and considered something for a moment. “Im Inala. I'm a ranger in these woods. Do you need a place to camp? I suppose we should all stick together.” she asked him as Shadowheart looked on bewildered that her newfound companion just offered a strange man with a knife shelter. The handsome elf paused 

“I was going to go this alone but sticking with the herd might not be a bad idea.” He smiled almost in relief. The drow returned his grin and held out her hand. Astarion hesitated then extended his own before being yanked forward, the rangers grip tight on his wrist. “One more thing city boy.” She hissed and twisted his arm behind him, her own dagger coming to rest under his chin. “If you pull a knife on me again I won't be as nice.” 

Astarion audibly swallowed. “Noted.” He croaked out as he was released and shoved forward. 

“That goes for you as well cleric, next person to threaten me with a blade loses the hand holding it.” Inala grumbled and marched ahead of her two companions. 

“Feisty. I like it.” the elf rubbed the spot on his chin where her knife had been raising an eyebrow in interest. The cleric next to him groaned.

____________________

Their search for the githyanki had become much more tedious than anticipated. They had been through most of the wreckage and all they found was a tadpoled wizard in a rock formation who wasn't amused when Inala slapped his hand instead of pulling him free. Whatever he set himself up for that one. 

There was a ruin ahead,and said wizard, who went by Gale, began to insist that they investigate sensing magic in the area or something. 

“And what do you even expect to find in this dust covered death trap?” The pale elf asked as they made their way down the path. 

“Hopefully something useful to help us deal with the parasites in our brains.” Gale replied marching ahead of the group. Astarion suddenly stopped and put his hand out to the two women behind him. 

“We're not alone.” he hissed as Gale continued to talk away ahead of them. 

“How do you know?” Inala whispered back.

“I can hear them! Several people down in the ruin one on watch.”

“I don't hear anything!” Shadowheart glanced around trying to hear whatever the fuck the elf was tuned in to.  Inala also tried to listen for voices but got nothing. “I have no idea what you're on about.” she stared at him with suspicion. Either the elf was mad, or he happened to be blessed with the best set of ears in Faerun.

“Ugh we need to get closer clearly you both have abysmal hearing.”

“Or you're just a freak.” Shadowheart laughed earning her a glare. 

That's when Inala saw the smoke from a campfire above the trees. Fuck the elf was right. Acting quick she bolted ahead and grabbed the wizard by the mouth pulling him off the main road and into cover holding his blabbering lips shut as he squirmed in protest. Astarion and Shadowheart had already joined her, the four of them glancing at one another for direction. 

“What do we do?” Shadowheart whispered as gale made a noise of protest. 

“Someone needs to scout ahead and determine if they're friendly. I vote for the city elf since he seems to have freak hearing.” the ranger suggested still holding a struggling Gale.

Shadowheart snickered again. 

Astarion glared at the drow. “And I vote for the ranger since she seems to think she's in charge.”

Inala turned to him. “Well I don't see any of you making important decisions for the group.” 

“Then allow me to be the first. Go scout ahead darling.” 

Inala huffed and glared back at the rogue releasing Gale as she did. The wizard spun around at both of them.

“Well since the two of you seem to be so fond of eachother why don't you both go and take your bickering far away from here.”

They both turned their annoyance to Gale who finished dusting himself off. The ranger and the rogue eyed one another suspiciously. 

“Only if he can finally keep his mouth shut. Are you even capable of that city boy?”

“I got the jump on you didnt I? Wild girl.” He sneered back and Inala wanted to wipe that pointy smug grin off his pretty face. 

“How about the both of you stop posturing and actually do your jobs.” Shadowheart groaned in annoyance. 

“He started it.” 

“Did not.”

Gale shoved both of them back onto the dirt path “Just get on with it already! I swear the two of you are the noisiest scouts alive!” 

________________

They approached the ruin in relative silence. Inala was even mildly impressed that the elf was as stealthy as he boasted. As they crept up behind a bush they could see a man posted on lookout and Astarion made a few gestures to her with his hands. Oh good he actually knows theives cant the city elf may be useful after all. 

I count 7. 

He signed to her and to his surprise she signed back. 

8 there's one behind the door. 

They both acknowledged the old wooden door the rest seemed to be guarding. 

What do you think is behind it?

The elf asked and Inala smiled to herself as the gears in her head began to turn. She turned back to him.

If it's valuable, I want it. 

That seemed to warm him up to her. A sinister grin grew on Astarion's lips as he peered over the bushes once more to get a look at the door. “Hmm maybe you're not so annoying after all ranger.” he whispered. 

“Shall we get the others?”

“Do we need to?”

“Only if you think you can't handle a few bandits.”

“Oh trust me, I'm more than capable.” 

“Good, I'm dropping the crates.”

“The what?”

Before he could protest the drow already had her bow out and aiming for a stack of heavy crates secured in a net above the camp. With a single shot she severed the rope watching them fall through the wooden platform they were secured over, taking two of the bandits with them. Astarion had no choice but to leap into action. He took aim at the guard and landed an arrow in his gut then followed up by jumping the man and slicing his throat. Inala had leapt up onto what was left of a stone arch firing an arrow through a half elf's eye then dropped from above onto the remaining bandit driving her hatchet into her skull. She spun in time to dodge a crossbow bolt shot at her by a halfling on the second story preparing herself to counter when an arrow flew through the man's throat shot by Astarion from the other side. The ranger and the rogue both glanced at one another with newfound respect as Gale and Shadowheart caught up to them. 

“The hells happened? You two were supposed to scout ahead?!” The wizard yelled at the both of them. 

“Oops.” The drow giggled as she cleaned her ax. 

“Why are you even complaining wizard? We did all the dirty work for you.” Astarion scoffed as he began to loot the bodies. 

“You murdered five people!” Gale gestured wildly to the carnage around them. 

“Technically it was seven. I wouldn't call it murder really, I just got to them before they could kill me.” Inala rolled her eyes as she tossed Shadowheart a pouch full of food. Astarion gestured over to Inala.

“See the drow gets it!”

“Oh so you're friends now.” Shadowheart narrowed her eyes at him.

“Friends is a strong word cleric.” Inala huffed 

“More like colleagues who appreciate a fellow artist's work.” Astarion gave the drow a dramatic bow which she returned with an appreciative nod. 

“Why are all of you obsessed with violence?” Gale hissed as the door they had all forgotten about burst open with several fireballs being slung in their direction. 

“Shit!” The four of them cursed in unison.

More bandits poured out into the ruin resulting in an all out brawl. Inala rushed the first one, easily landing a devastating blow to the torso with her hatchets then spun the dying man around to use as a meat shield for an incoming volley of arrows. Shadowheart had fired a beam of light at the dwarf who had Inala pinned but was overtaken by a dragonborn with a greatsword. Inala snarled and lept into action fighting him back with a few well executed counter maneuvers. He caught her once on the side and the drow saw red, leaping at him and driving her hatchet deep into the side of the dragon man's neck. She could feel her companions eyes on her, the pale elf in particular seemed awestruck by the blood and viscera that dripped from her skin. Freak. Inala thought to herself as she helped Shadowheart to her feet. The cleric healed her quickly then turned to help Gale as a few more bandits trickled out of the ruin. Inala could have sworn she saw the elf try to sniff his blade as he pulled it out of the chest cavity of one of them. The drow began to wonder what the hells mind flayers wanted with a collection of violent weirdos like them.

 The final enemy fell with a scream in agony as their wizard delivered one last bolt of lightning straight to their back and then the battle was over. Bodies littered the outside of the old temple and blood stained the sand. The newly formed party panted and stood in the carnage glancing at one another. They'd all done well with their first test as a team. Astarion of course is the first to break the calm.

“Well it seems like we're all much more capable than we've been letting on ey?” 

“Will someone please shut him up?” Inala groaned and began to silently loot the corpses. 

Gale sighed and stretched his back “Oh believe me we are all wishing for it.”

___________________________________________

And thats chapter one! The gang is definitely going to need some team building exercises that dont involve murder but they at least work well together despite being disasters. Next chapter involves telling eachother secrets and some bonding. Hope you guys liked it!

[golbrocklovely]

never needed // colby brock

A/N: so fun fact about this fic is that i came up with it last year back in november. it was around the time me and my ex best friend stopped being friends. i was really in such a rough headspace, and i think the concept shows it. i just finished writing it today and wow... i still feel this way to some extent, but not fully (thank god). also i literally cried while writing it today so there’s that. hope yall enjoy this one. i'm trying to post a bunch of fics since this coming week is my bday (the 14th). no guarantees, but i'm trying my best to put out at least six things. let me know what you think of this one. see yall later :)

prompt: colby has been ghosting you for a while, just when things were starting to get good between you two. after a week of ignoring you, he’s finally ready to talk. || fem!reader x colby brock

trigger warning: angst, cursing, heartache, crying, honestly this one is really sad so sorry about that, happy ending tho

word count: 2331

~~~~~~~

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I groaned to myself, staring at my phone.

Colby was still ignoring me, something I had grown accustomed to this week. He had ghosted my calls and my texts. He turned his read notifications off too, so I had no clue whether or not he had even seen my messages at all.

Everything had been going great between us. We had met a couple years back and hit it off as friends right away. I always thought he was attractive, and our friendship was always really flirty; so much so that fans thought we were together. And then finally, something clicked a couple months back. I wasn't sure if it was the accidental drunken kiss we shared, or just a built up of feelings, but we finally decided that maybe we should test out an actual relationship.

We promised each other we would take it slow, both of us still heartbroken from our previous relationships and our general trust issues. But these past two months, we went into overdrive, actually taking the time to feel each other out as boyfriend and girlfriend.

And for the first time, I felt happy. Genuinely happy.

A week ago, we had even gone on a cute little date, something we had started doing regularly. We were in the middle of our conversation; I remember I laughed hard at something he said. It was loud enough that some of the patrons in the restaurant stared at us. And when he tried to shush me jokingly, a silence had fallen over us.

His face dropped suddenly, he became super serious and quiet, and then he asked if we could go home.

He told me the next day that he thought he got food poisoning and it just hit him in the restaurant. I didn't think anything of it and was fine with going home early.

But now, I wonder if he was lying.

I looked back down at my phone, reading over my messages from the past week to him.

Was I taking this too far? He could have just been busy. I don't wanna come across as clingy.

"Ugh, fuck that." I muttered out loud to myself, rolling out of my bed to get a drink.

I didn't care if I came across as clingy. I had a right to know why he was ignoring me. If it was work related, he would have told me. He had done that in the past before.

This was different, I just knew it.

Tomorrow, I planned to go over and see him. I would have done it tonight, but I knew he wasn't home. He was out with some friends at Saddle Ranch. Like a fan, I had to watch his stories on Insta, since that was the only way I knew where he was.

"Don't expect too much from him." Sam said.

I shook my head at that memory. When we got together, everyone was happy for us. But I could feel a certain tension in the room, a certain caveat that wasn't being mentioned. Later that night, Sam and I were by ourselves, and he asked me if Colby and I had really made our relationship official. I told him we hadn't gone all the way, but that we were taking it one step at a time.

"I'm happy for you guys, really. I just wonder..." His voice trailed off.

I cocked my head. "Wonder what?"

"Look, I love you both, but I don't know if Colby is really ready for a relationship. There's a lot of things he still needs to work through." He stated.

"We're not that serious." I laughed.

"Yeah, yet. If you plan to be, I just don't want you to get your heart broken because he wasn't ready." Sam admitted.

I patted his shoulder lightly, smiling. "Relax, Samuel. Everything will be fine."

"Alright. Just... don't expect too much from him, okay?" He mentioned, his eyes narrowing on mine.

That had been two months ago and... I think I should have heeded his warning.

A loud knock at my front door brought me out of my thoughts, scaring me. I grabbed a knife from my kitchen, striding over to the door. I glance through the peephole to see who was there.

Colby's face stared back.

"Y/N, it's me. Can you open the door?" He called.

I scowled at him through the peephole. "Sorry she's not home right now. Maybe you should try responding to her texts.”

“Look I'm sorry, but that's why I came over. I wanted to talk in person.” He replied.

“Damn, that’s a shame. Too bad she’s not home!” I exclaimed angrily.

“C’mon now, don’t be childish.” He remarked.

I swung the door open, holding back from yelling into my hallway. “Childish?!”

He smirked at me. “I knew that would get you to open the door.”

“You’re not funny.” I deadpanned, glaring at him.

“Can you please let me in? I seriously want to talk.” Colby responded, his eyes landing on mine.

“No, Colby. It’s one o’clock in the morning, I don’t feel like talking, and you’re drunk.” I jeered, resting my hands on my hips.

He scrunched up his face dramatically. “No, I’m not. I only had like two drinks.”

“Oh my mistake. I figured a person that randomly comes over to talk at the ass-crack of night is usually drunk,” I quipped. “Don’t you have better things to do, like be at Saddle Ranch?”

He stepped back, raising an eyebrow. “How’d you know I was at Saddle Ranch?”

I could feel my cheeks heat up. “Because… I watched your stories.”

“Nice to know you pay attention to me,” he uttered under his breath. “Please let me in.”

“No. Fuck off, Colby.” I hissed.

He rolled his eyes at my comment. “If you don’t let me in, I’m just gonna make noise out here in the hallway until you do.”

“Bet.” I huffed.

“What was your favorite movie again… ‘10 Things I Hate About You’?” He questioned, stepping back further into the hallway.

I blinked. “Yeah, so what?”

He looked up at me, giving me a devilish smile. “…You’re just too good to be true.”

My face dropped at his voice. “Colby.”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” He sang, pointing at me.

“Are you really-” I started.

He cut me off, running his hands down his body. “You’d be like heaven to touch.”

I hushed. “Seriously stop-”

“I wanna hold you so much.” He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around himself.

I grunted, smacking my hand towards him. “Colby, it’s one in the morn-”

“At long last, love has arrived.” He opened his arms wide.

“Shut the fuck up!” I whisper-shouted.

“And I thank God I'm alive.” Colby praised up towards the ceiling.

I retorted. “You’re fucking embarrass-”

He spun in a circle slowly. “You're just too good to be true.”

“I knew giving you the code to my apartment was a bad idea.” I grumbled.

“Can't take my eyes off of you.” He winked, pointing at me again.

Colby took a big inhale, ready to start singing the music, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him into my apartment.

I slammed my door shut, locking it quickly. “Next time you do something like that, I’m gonna kill you.”

“That’s not very- why do you have a knife?” He motioned toward the knife sitting on my side table.

“What-? Oh, I thought you were an intruder.” I explained.

He lightly smiled, his dimples appearing. “You think an intruder would knock?”

I snapped, annoyed. “Aren’t you here to apologize?”

“Right, right,” he cleared his throat, his demeanor changing. “Y/N, I’m deeply sorry.”

“Sure.” I narrowed my eyes, walking towards my kitchen.

He followed me. “I know what I did was fucked up. I should have responded to you.”

“You completely ignored me for over a week.” I informed him, resting my back against the counter.

He nodded. “I know. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I crossed my arms uncomfortably. “…were you busy?”

“No, not really.” He divulged, dropping his head.

“So, you purposefully ignored my calls and text…” I could feel my hands shake against my arms.

“You make it sound bad-” He mumbled.

“It is that bad.” I emphasized, stopping him. “Colby, you wanna talk about being childish? That shit was childish.”

He agreed. “I know it was.”

“Obviously not since you keep joking about it.” I argued.

“I’m not trying to joke,” he protested, running his hands through his hair. “Do you wanna know the honest to God truth?”

“Of course I do.” I answered, furrowing my eyebrows.

He exhaled, glancing at me. “When we first got together, even though we were taking it slow, I was terrified to date you.”

“Terrified?” I puzzled.

He swallowed hard. “Yes. Scared shitless.”

“Why?” I questioned.

“I thought it was because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But then… at dinner,” his voice lowered, his shoulders dropping. “I realized it was more than that.”

I shook my head, confused. “What are you ta-”

“I’m falling in love with you, Y/N.” He confessed.

His words made me step back, my breath hitching in my throat.

I choked. “What?”

“When you laughed really hard, and did that cute snort thing you do, I remember we looked at each other… and all I saw was you,” his eyes bore into mine, causing goosebumps to rise all over my skin. “No one else in that restaurant existed. And in that moment, I wanted to tell you I love you.”

I stammered out words, unable to think clearly. “S-so… you-”

“When I felt it, I knew I had to go home. Because I was just so shocked at the feeling. I haven’t felt that way for anyone in a long time.” He sighed exhaustingly, “and… I apologize that I ignored you. Every time I saw your messages, I knew I should have responded. But my body, my mind, wouldn’t let me.”

I frowned. “Because you love me?”

“Because… I’m scared to love you.” He admitted.

A heavy silence fell over the apartment. I shuddered out an exhale, not even noticing I had been holding my breath in for so long. Colby closed his eyes, twisting up his face, and turned his back to me.

“Why are you scared to love me?” I gulped, scared of his answer.

His shoulders tensed as he gripped the counter. “The last time you felt heartbroken… did it leave you feeling empty? Because that’s how I felt… for so long. It’s not even the empty feeling that bothered me. It was the fact that I knew something used to be there… and now it’s gone. I miss who I was before.”

I opened my mouth, but no words escaped.

“I have this deep, guttural feeling that you’re gonna realize I’m not worth loving, and that there is someone else out there that is, and you’re gonna leave me.” His voice trembled as he spoke, “everyone… always leaves me.”

I gasped quietly. “Colby-”

He turned back to me, his face becoming red. “I just feel like no one ever needs me, you know? Like some people only keep me around because they don’t have the heart to just tell me they don’t care anymore. Even Sam has someone else.

I consoled. “That’s not-”

“And I know it’s selfish to want everyone around me to only want me. I don’t really feel that way. I just… don’t feel like anyone really needs me as much as I need them,” his chest quaked as his breathing began to speed up. “And when you realize it too… I don’t think I can live through that fall out again. I don’t think I’m gonna survive it.”

“Wait, Col-” I murmured.

“At that dinner, I had this gut-wrenching anxiety come over me; a voice in my head that said ‘she’s gonna leave you too’ and… I’m just so sorry.” He panted, his eyes welling up.

I wrapped my arms around him tightly, pressing his body into mine as hard as I could. He buried his face into my neck, his body almost going limp against mine.

I couldn’t help my own tears spill as they landed on his shirt. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way before?”

“I was ashamed. I should be stronger than this.” He fumed through his tears.

I rubbed his face lovingly. “Who said that? You are strong. Expressing your emotions is strong.”

He nodded, croaking. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course. How about tonight you stay over, and then in the morning, we’ll talk about this more? Okay?” I suggested, resting my hands on his forearms.

“Yeah.” He whimpered.

I smiled brokenly. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

I lightly grasped Colby’s hand, pulling him slowly into my bedroom. He stumbled along, his head remaining down.

I sat him down on the bed and slid off his jacket, placing it on my dresser. I cupped his face, tracing his jaw with my fingers. His eyes finally landed on mine as I tilted his head up.

I leaned down and kissed his lips, resting my forehead against his.

“I’m not gonna leave you, Colby.” I stated, gazing into his eyes.

He begged in a hushed tone. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t. I promise.” I reassured, kissing his forehead.

I walked over to the other side of my bed and laid down. Colby kicked off his shoes, taking his belt off and pulling his jeans down. After getting undressed, he slid into bed with me, laying his head down softly on my chest. Wrapping his arms around me, he buried his head into my neck again, sighing against my skin. I ran my fingers through his hair, a light hum falling from his lips. I ran my other hand up and down his spine, feeling him shiver under my touch.

“We’ll be okay, Colby.” I whispered.

[distort-opia]

Got tagged by @forevercloudnine​! Thank you, this looks like fun (and it also got me to clean up my WIP folder a little). Without further ado... five favorite fics:

+ this knife, like silence (oneshot, rated T)

Joker disappears and Bruce is emo about it for years after. I really like this one because it was fun to write a fic from second person POV, and to give in to the temptation of using lots of metaphors and poetic language. I have to stop myself from doing that too much, in general, but here I let myself go nuts.

+ the path of most resistance (oneshot, rated E)

Bruce basically uses an excuse to go vent some anger on Joker but Joker refuses to play along. Tbh I like this one because of the... 2k words of fighting? I really had fun writing Bruce and Joker fight, they don’t get to do that enough. Punching each other’s face in is a love language!

+ green, the color of greed (oneshot, rated E)

Bruce falls into bed with a very Joker-coded woman. This is a fave because I told this idea to Kai (@powrbottomjoker) and then they churned out the most amazing art for the fic which can be seen here. It was so beautiful it accounted for 70% of my motivation to even write the piece, I love it so much.

+ the inevitability of disaster (has sharp teeth) (oneshot, rated E)

This one’s based off the deleted scene of Batman and Joker, from the Snyder cut of Justice League. Aaaand, it’s the first Batjokes fic I ever started writing, which is why I have a soft spot for it. I dislike Leto’s Joker as much as the next fan, but... look, they have chemistry in that scene, dammit. Enough chemistry that it got me writing, which is worth something.

+ repetitio est mater studiorum (multi-chapter, rated E)

The Batjokes time loop fic. Bruce is trapped repeating six hours with Joker in vicinity and then Things Happen. REMS is one of my favorites because it’s the only novel-length, multi-chaptered fic I’ve finished (...in English, but do fics you write in your native language at 13 even count??). Also, I met a lot of cool people via comments, so I’m very grateful for that. This fic really got me to be more active in fandom, and it’ll always have a special place in my heart.

And for my WIP list...

Yes they’re all angsty except one; though I don’t trust myself to not make that one angsty too somehow, we’ll see. I actually have more docs, but I figured to include stuff that has at least a detailed outline, if not some paragraphs written. (My titles aren’t nearly as cool as yours, Cloud. Dammit.)

There’s no way I can tag 11 people, but... @fractualized, @batjokesinlove, @faytelumos, if you feel like doing it? And whoever sees this and wants to do the challenge, you’re more than welcome to!

[peanutpinet]

Yuta (cold mafia boss)

Prompt: 20)“The only time a man should be fast is when he’s trying to dodge my bullets.” - 100 Dialogue Prompts for Mob Boss AUs

A/N: since NCT 127 have decided to attack us since Friday with all their day/night posts and whatever more things they still got in the back storage, I just gotta do some fics about the dark concept, cause like, yea XD. I asked my friend whose bias is Yuta to choose a prompt and so, here we are XD

Warnings: some form of harassment, cursing (it's Yuta) drinking, spiked drink and hint of kidnapping

It was a Friday night and you were more than excited to finally have some time off to hang out with your boyfriend, Yuta, who was also part "gang leader" of NCT, an infamous group that people thought do illegal doings when they're the ones shutting the illegal businesses down.

Yuta being Yuta didn't disclose what he did from the beginning. But he also never fully tell you everything which, is understandable, it was confidential information. Despite so, Yuta never restricted your movements and you both would have some normal cafe dates, picnic dates, etc. Even so, there will be times where Yuta would have you do some personal training that includes self-defence, quizzes about types of chemicals, guns, etc. In his defense, he just wants you to be prepared should something goes wrong and you're alone.

Despite following Yuta's needs, you would sometimes joke about how it won't happen or that Yuta will make sure it wouldn't go too far or even if anything did happen, you were sure that Yuta would eventually find a way to make things right. Boi, were you in for a treat.

As mentioned, you were finally going to have a night out with Yuta after so long and had just finished getting ready when you received a text from Yuta saying, "hey love, sorry this is super last minute but could you change into a more black-tie dress code? We are sort of having a business dinner tonight and I want to bring you as my date. I'm on my way to pick you up right now. Don't worry, you don't have to put on anything you're uncomfortable cause whatever you wear, you still look hot to me ;)"

So of course you did what Yuta asked. You changed into a simple long black dress that fitted your figure and touched up your makeup a bit more and let your hair down. As you were putting on the last of your accessories and about to put your shoes on, Yuta was already ringing the bell. You quickly opened the door for him and told him that you were just going to put your shoes on which Yuta chuckled and helped you as he saw you struggling.

"You didn't have to go all out and wear heels babe, you'll have sore feet by the end of the night" Yuta mentioned, holding you steady as you were putting on your heels

"I mean, if it's just dinner, I'll just be sitting either way. You so owe me with a pizza movie night next week" you complained, finally putting your shoes

"Anything for you babe. Let's go" Yuta smiled, bringing your arm wrapped around his and helped you get into the car before he went to the driver's seat

Arriving at the dinner, you felt out of place since this was the first time Yuta actually brought you. Noticing your nervous state, Yuta wrapped his arm over your shoulder, telling you that he'll be right beside you unless you need to go to the restroom or need some personal space.

Nodding, Yuta gave you a heartwarming smile and brought you around. First and foremost, to his other members that were joining the dinner, the people you knew the week you and Yuta started dating. Allowing some weight off since how worried you were.

"Oh, (Y/N)!! Welcome!! Hope Yuta didn't force you to come here" Johnny greeted you which Yuta gave him a glare

"Well, he sorta promised me for a pizza movie night date next week, so I guess it's a winwin" you replied, chuckling

"Oooh, can we come? I miss just watching movies on the weekend" Jungwoo requested, pulling out his puppy eyes

"Maybe if you find yourself a girlfriend, I'd consider it" Yuta hissed, you hit him playfully

"Hey (Y/N), sometimes I wonder what you see in Yuta. He's so aggressive" Jungwoo joked as Taeyong tried to calm everyone and directed everyone to their table since dinner was starting

Dinner surprisingly went well and the opposing business partners were actually cooperating; like, they would agree to what NCT were asking, even giving some suggestions for the corporation. But nevertheless, every NCT member were on their best guard; heck, they all had their guns rested by their hips and even knifes hidden within their clothing.

Seeing how the talk about the business bore you, you took a big sip off of the drink the waiter had just poured for you. Suddenly feeling the urge to go to the bathroom, you excused yourself from everyone at the table, nodding your head when Yuta told you to immediately come back once you're done.

However, you didn't go to the bathroom because of the urge to pee or anything. Instead, it's because you didn't feel too good, maybe the alcohol in your drink was a bit too much to your tolerance but whether you want to admit it or not, you didn't feel good and felt like you could pass out at any second.

After purging and sitting down for a bit, you felt slightly better but not good enough because everything around you was tilted. Taking a deep breath, you just kept on thinking how the dinner table wasn't that far and if you hurry, you can just make it to Yuta's side and pass out however you like.

Pulling whatever willpower you have left, you stood up and started to walk out of the bathroom. Holding onto the wall, you slowly walked down the hall back to your table, until someone came up to you, asking if you were alright which you told them that you were fine. You may be dizzy and not feeling good, but you surely weren't dumb nor were you drunk.

Despite the guy saying that all he wanted to do was to help you, you clearly knew that wasn't his true intention since he was gripping you a bit too much to your liking. You've tried pushing him away but that only made his grip tighter. And to top it off, instead of helping you to your actual table or at least asking where your table was, he brought you to a more quiet area; making your heart beat quicker.

Unfortunately, at this point, whatever was in your drink was sinking it and you slowly start to lose consciousness and hope as from what you can see, you were far from your table. But thank the universe because all of a sudden you hear a loud ring and the tight grip was gone; instead, it was replaced by a warm embrace.

"Get him out of here before I actually kill him right here and now" you heard Yuta's stern voice commanding his other members

"I got you, baby. Let's get you back home, hmm?" you heard Yuta's voice turned soft; not having any more energy, you just nodded and fell asleep in his embrace

Because Yuta felt he can't leave you alone nor not torment the people that hurt you, he decided to bring you back to NCT's place. Wiping off your makeup and putting on your skincare for you, Yuta had one of the maids help change your clothes and then he tucked you in bed; not leaving your side until he's convinced that you're fully asleep before leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead then quietly leaving the room.

Walking out of the room, he saw Jeno and Jaemin, asking them to guard your room until he gets back. Making his way to the basement, he met with the NCT members that joined the dinner that did not end well at all.

Turns out, not long after you left, the neos already had a bad feeling; that something was not right, especially since their "business partners" were eyeballing the situation around them and it was revealed that the dinner was just a cover-up and that they were planning to use you to get to the neos, which clearly did not end well for them.

"Is she alright?" Taeyong asked, seeing Yuta was fuming

"She's very much passed out the second I found her. Are they all in there?" Yuta questioned strictly

"Yea. All tied up and blindfolded on the ground" Johnny mentioned

"Good" Yuta smirked, slamming the door open, making the prisoners jerked in surprise

"Rise and shine motherf*ckers. I hope you're ready for what's coming" Yuta shouted as some of the neos took their blindfolds off

"And y'all call yourselves men. Tch. You guys may be agile but not agile enough. The only time a man should be fast is when he’s trying to dodge my bullets. Not getting caught by their enemies. And surely not looking or thinking to do anything to another person's girlfriend. Oh well, what's done is done. Be lucky that we all got there in time. But, that doesn't mean I'll go easy on you. Let's see...should I start off with your fingers because you touched my girl or your head for ever thinking that little stunt of yours. Either way, I'm definitely going to take my time with you all" Yuta ranted, a smirk forming on his face as he saw the horror of his prisoners while the neos put their blindfolds back on

A/N: yeap, this turned out longer than expected. Welp, this is what happens when NCT updates with a dark concept I guess XD

[thehomothings]

Analysis of Kite's conflicting moralities, relationship with death, and the toll reincarnation may take on one's psyche

So, today I decided to compile all the thoughts I have had about Kite's interesting worldview since the first time I saw him into one post, mostly for my own sake, really. If you're familiar with the few posts I've made, you know it's gonna be a mess, but hopefully a comprehensible mess.

A heads up, this is going to be spoiler-heavy, and very much deal with subjects of death and dying as a whole. Also, some of these conclusions are drawn from my own experiences and close brushes with death, I'm not going to go into much detail but it might get personal and definitely dark. I'm not even sure if I can call this a meta-analysis, and I'm obviously no expert, so mayhaps take all of this with a grain of salt.

Been getting into drawing lately, and during the more simple and mindless part of the painstaking process of dotting every single star in this, I let my thoughts wander through the latest part of the fic I'm writing, and I got a better grasp on what exactly made Kite such an elusive character to me.

I'm not quite sure why I got so attached to Kite. Perhaps it was the air of tragedy surrounding him, how despite his sordid past he remained still open and gentle even if outlined by a healthy dose of cynicism.

But sometimes, I think it's the fact that he is so paradoxical. He's brave, yet fears death to such a degree that creates a whole Nen ability around it, is a pacifist yet will not hesitate to spill blood for his own sake or someone else's. Despite the many ultimatums and warnings of 'I will not protect you', he gave his arm and then his life to save Gon and Killua. He approaches each hunt and battle with a clear plan of action in mind, but his Hatsu takes the form of a roulette that gives him random weapons which are never what he wants, but what he seems to need for that exact situation, which he cannot dispel without using. When he draws a weapon, the decision is locked in and his or his opponent's fate is sealed. That's why each time he dubbs his weapon a bad roll. Every time he has to gamble, he sees himself as having run out of luck. When it comes to having to choose between himself and somebody else...well, there had never been a choice. In fact his aversion to using it may feed into its sheer power that we, unfortunately, saw too little of.

Let's go over his very first appearance when he saves Gon from the mother Foxbear.

It's not hard to see the strain searching for Ging has put on him; he's rash, prone to anger and punching a child for daring to get into trouble. In his mind, he's failing at his most important task, has not yet earned the right to call himself a hunter despite being in possession of his very own hunter license.

After killing the mother Foxbear and raging about having done so, he says this interesting line:

So yes, he finds killing for any reason rather irksome as most would do, yet I think something deeper caused him to absolutely lose it in this scene:

He had not been aware of Gon's identity, and despite being an animal lover and a naturalist, he made a choice to save the human instead of allowing nature to run its course. In fact, he says: 'No beast that harms a human must be allowed to live.'

How does one weight one life against another? How is the worth of it determined? The value of life... an impossible choice he's faced with and a choice which he seems to regret to some degree.

The Foxbear cub.

Here, he's speaking from experience, a tangible loss he has felt himself, and a hard and bitter life he does not want to impose on the cub.

His backstory is exclusive to the 2011 anime adaptation but there are hints alluding to it in the manga, for example, the fact that he does not seem to know his birthplace, or:

The choice of words is chilling.

Reading between the lines, one could draw the conclusion that he is an orphan. Something supporting this hypothesis is how he visibly deflates after Gon tells him his parents have (presumably) died.

So we see he is willing to go against his own moral code of not killing as to not doom another living being to the life he led, a lonely, hopeless existence that could barely be called one. He saw it best to put down the cub rather than leave it to die a painful, slow death.

The reason Kite himself isn't as cynical and cold-hearted as one would be after witnessing cruelty in its rawest form is those small crumbs of human kindness which he may have found in Ging.

It was not only a chance at an honorable life being Ging's apprentice gave him, but it also 'saved' him from being broken and twisted into what he hated and worst of all, death.

If we take that one minute of backstory as canon to his character-which I find myself inclined to do- these quirks of his make much more sense. He lived on the run. He lived on the knife's edge between giving up or pushing forwards. He lived as so a wrong move could be the difference between survival and the end.

Between rock and a hard place creates a mentality of black and white, absolute good or extreme evil, this or that. Except in reality, it's much harder than that. Deciding who to save and who to strike down is a heavy burden to bear.

It's almost easy to see how struggling to keep surviving could lend itself to a crippling fear of death and subsequently developing a Nen ability which once more goes against his own moral code in order to give himself a second chance...yet something about it strikes me as unlikely when I look at it this way.

Living life knowing it could end at any moment has the opposite effect, at least for me it did. One comes to accept that it is fleeting and while not eager to let it go, when death eventually and inevitably does come, there is no fighting it.

Especially when there is no hope that tomorrow will be a better day than this one.

Frequent near-death experiences numb one's fear in a way, even if it drives them to take precautions that render it unlikely to happen again and results in c-PTSD, but still, it does. It sparks a certain nihilistic view of 'if it all can end so easily, then what's the point of it all?'

Unless there are things to live for, a sure promise of a better future, and Ging gave Kite that. When he faced the threat of losing his second chance at life:

Really, what else could lead someone to develop the ability of 'the hell I'm going to die like this'?

I think a separate event, an even more brutal near-death experience that almost cost him his life as the hunter he so strived to be set him off to develop the secret roll of Crazy Slots, what I call Roll No.0, Ars moriendi. Unlike other weapons, it cannot come up in random and is directly summoned by him, or better said, summon by his overwhelming will to keep going and hopelessness of fighting a losing battle. I don't believe roll No.3 was the weapon that allowed him to reincarnate. I've named that one Wand of Fortune, a sort of armor instead of an offensive weapon since I find it hard to believe Kite, a Conjurer, would not focus on defences as well, and I will go into both mechanisms of these weapons hopefully in his backstory.

Despite knowing this battle to be a pointless one and being acutely aware of his soon to be demise, he did not immediately draw Ars moriendi, no, he stayed back and fought for the sake of the boys, kept Neferpitou occupied until they could reach safety. We can see evidence of this in the aftermath of the battle that seemed to have gone on until dawn, a torn apart landscape only signaling a fraction of the devastation that was Kite's power unleashed. It still wasn't enough.

In the anime sub I watched, when Gon apologizes to Ging about Kite's death, Ging said a sentence that infuriated me, because it belittled the utter suffering of the NGL trio.

"He would not die in your place." (No screenshot, sorry)

And I remember practically shouting at the screen, screaming 'how could you possibly say that? Of course he did. He absolutely did die in their place. How could you not know your own apprentice? Why-'

It was only last night that it hit me why Ging would say that.

Once upon a time, maybe Kite would not have given his life for anybody under any circumstances, even if he had a way out of it all. He would still need to die to come back to life.

His Thanatophobia could be attributed to the (possibly untreated) PTSD of the near-death experience in his later life, being so certain of dying that finding himself alive afterwards drove him to never want to go through that again. He quieted his fear by creating a sort of a loophole, that even if he lost the battle he would remain. Ging remembered that, but as evidence shows, something changed. Maybe he healed a bit, perhaps growing up dulled his fear to a certain degree, but eventually when it came down to his life or another's, he didn't choose himself.

Now, I can hear you saying 'but he didn't die, so what are you going on about??' And so I reply: Yes, he is alive, but he did die. He experienced that painful, horrible moment of staring death in the eyes and thinking 'This is it, this is the end', went through the actual process of having his soul removed from his body. And that moment stretches into infinity, ten lifetimes condensed into the mere seconds before oblivion.

Dying isn't so hard if one stays dead.

It's not so easy to open one's eyes and find oneself alive again after that, no matter how much that is the heart's desire. It's difficult, nigh-impossible to reconcile with life and walk amongst the living when everything had been so final, when death had been accepted to its fullest.

So Kite awakens, the twin of Meruem and back from the dead, his mind and identity both intact and fractured. In that he is Kite is no mistaking, yet he is not the same gentle pacifist whose first reaction upon sensing a monster's aura was to shield two kids from it at the cost of his arm.

I don't think many of you are familiar with Zoroastrian ideology, but Togashi is known for loving his religious imagery, and it's not only Christianism he derives inspiration from (evidence of which can be seen all over Kite's character and resurrection).

In Zurvanism-a branch of Zoroastrianism- there is talk of the twin spirits: Ahura Mazda -epitome of all that is good- and Ahriman -epitome of all that is evil-, the parent god Zurvin decides that the firstborn may rule in order to bring "heaven, hell, and everything in between."

Upon becoming aware of this fact, Ahriman forcibly tears through the womb to emerge first. Sounding familiar yet?

Zurvan relents to this turn of events only on one condition: Ahriman is given kingship for 9000 years, and then Ahura Mazda may rule for eternity.

Meruem ruled for 40 days, his death leaving the throne vacant for ant Kite, wearing a dead girl's face and seeming to be brewing some nefarious plan. No more is there any sign of that unrelenting pacifism and the sanctity of life he held so high, losing his own may have only served to show him how meaningless the pain and suffering he went through had been, dying only to be reborn as a member of the species that killed him. It may be that he has no desire to rule over the remaining Chimera ants or create an army of his own-

Yet I dread to think what a broken mind possessing limitless power might do to the world.

And that's it. If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you found it interesting, stay tuned, as I think a lot and I will make it your problem.

[1littleshippergirl1]

Teachers have lives, too

Percy/Oliver

Modern AU with magic. Teacher AU. Zoom style

Prompt 23 (I think) from my challenge: secret relationship

My first and only Percy/Oliver fic. Hope y'all enjoy it!

__

"What, no robes?" Oliver raised his eyebrows when Percy came out of their bedroom dressed in one of Oliver's muggle style t-shirts and casual trousers instead of strictly adhering to the dress code of wearing his teaching robes like he'd set upon himself to do since the start of online school.

"I didn't feel like it," Percy shrugged as he took a much needed gulp of tea. Swallowing, he added, "It's Friday and I doubt the kids will care."

Oliver propped himself up on the countertop by his elbows, simply adoring the way his shirt highlighted the muscles that his boyfriend was adamant didn't exist. "You're staring," Percy remarked idly.

"can't help it. You're irresistible, love."

Percy scoffed, but Oliver saw that tiny smile appear when he made to turn around. Grinning, he maneuvered around the counter to sneak his arms around the red-head's waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. "We should take the day off," he murmured into his ear. "Tell Minerva we're both sick."

"Much as I would simply love to," Percy turned to face him, "we can't and you know that." He moved away and Oliver sighed dramatically.

"Don't see why we have to keep it a secret, Perce."

Percy shrugged again. "I don't want our private life aired out for everyone. You know how nosy the kids are."

"I know how nosy Phoebe is," Oliver chuckled as Percy snorted and rolled his eyes.

Phoebe Wren was one of Hogwart's newest students, a Gryffindor and a complete and utter chatterbox. She had no qualms about asking personal questions or blurting out whatever came to mind, no matter how embarrassing it was to the other person. She was a nice enough girl, a real sweetheart but that mouth of hers needed controlling.

"Didn't she ask you to take off your shirt so she could see if that rumor about you having a tattoo was true or not?"

Percy groaned good naturedly. "Don't remind me. I've yet to figure out who even started that ridiculous rumor."

Oliver's eyes dropped and a broad, yet sheepish grin came across his face. "Well-"

Percy's jaw dropped but he was smiling as well and choked out laughter. "You didn't."

"In my defense," Oliver chuckled, "I was bored and Phoebe was willing to listen."

"You should be ashamed of yourself, spreading rumors like a third year," Percy had a sparkle of mischievousness and playfully swatted Oliver's bum.

"I should be," Oliver agreed, smiling cheekily. "But I'm not."

Percy rolled his eyes good naturedly and opened up his computer. "Quiet, now,' he ordered mildly. "I don't want her hearing you."

Phoebe had a tendency to bring up irrelevant subjects in class that had absolutely nothing to do with the lesson. Other times she was late to another class because she stayed on chat with Percy to talk about anything and everything she wholeheartedly believed he needed to know. So, being that she was in his first hour of the day, he let her get on early so she could get everything out of the way ahead of time.

In a very unPrecy like manner, he curled up on the couch, with his feet facing one way and the computer resting on his lap. He clicked on Zoom, waiting for his students to sign on. In the meantime, Oliver moved Percy's legs, raising them up a bit and sat down, laying them on top of his upper thighs. The redhead raised his eyebrows but his boyfriend merely smiled innocently.

He didn't buy it one bit.

Oliver began to gently rub Percy's legs, massaging them. The redhead would be lying if he said it didn't feel good. "I know what you're trying to do," Percy closed his eyes.

"I'm just giving you a massage, love," Oliver momentarily passed, grabbing Percy's hand to press a kiss to his knuckles.

Quiet, Percy mouthed as Phoebe's window screen popped up. Immediately, red came into his vision. A bright red. She'd dyed the ends of her hair red with some muggle beverage. Today, she wore her hair in two knots on top of her head with the end pieces sticking upward for the world to see. She beamed as soon as she saw him, bouncing in her chair. He couldn't help but smile back. She was contagious in that aspect.

"Hello, Professor Weasley!"

"Hello, Phoebe," he said, warmly. "I trust you had a good weekend?"

"oh, yes! Unless you count my mum's mood swings. I think she's going through menopause."

"I see," Percy said as he noticed Oliver trying not to laugh and waved him off for it.

"Your mum's still around, right? Is she going through menopause, too?"

That was just something he preferred not to think about. "Remember what I said about asking inappropriate questions?"

"Yes," she nodded, more like bobbed her head up and down. "But it's not like I asked something personal."

"Actually-"

"Professor Weasley, how old are you?"

"Excuse me?" Percy raised his eyebrows.

"You're like thirty five, right?"

Percy spluttered indignantly. Oliver was laughing in one of the couch pillows to keep from being heard. "I'm not even thirty yet!"

"Really?"

"Yes," he said shortly.

"Woooow. Talk about being unlucky."

Percy pinched the bridge of his nose. He loved his job....he loved his job....he loved his students....

His thoughts were broken through by an excited squeal. "Oh my gosh! You should totally let me give you a makeover! I read this magazine and I can totally make you look twenty."

"As kind as that is," Percy lied through his teeth, "I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

She pouted.

Percy inwardly sighed in relief when the rest of the class popped up. They said their hello's and he allowed the kids a few minutes to talk before he dove into the lesson. All the while, Oliver had a free period so he stayed where he was, poking and touching Percy. First it was his knees, drawing circles on them. Then he grabbed the red-head's hand again, interlocking their fingers. When they couldn't keep it like that, Oliver's hand slithered up to Percy's bum--to what he could reach anyway--and the red-head gave him a subtle warning look.

He let out a grunt when Oliver gave it a squeeze. Oh, he was so in trouble once school was over. If it weren't for the fact he was still in charge of twenty five students, he would toss the laptop aside and tackle Oliver now. Soon, he promised himself. Right after class when he had a bit of a break.

"Professor Weasley!"

"What's he staring at?"

"I dunno."

"He looks constipated. Professor, are you constipated? I can relate. See just the other day-"

"No, Phoebe," he said, cutting her off. "I'm fine. Sorry everyone, just spaced out for a moment."

Discreetly, he mouthed to Oliver, this is all your fault

Oliver looked pleased.

Percy rolled his eyes.

"Professor, I was thinking about something."

"Yes, Phoebe?" He said, warily.

"You totally need a date!"

He spluttered. "Excuse me?"

Some of his students snickered and giggled.

"Men your age need that companionship. And the sex. Unless you're like a virgin," she said with a thoughtful expression. "Are there virgins at your age? Oooh, if not you could be the world's oldest virgin! Do wizards have a record book? Muggles do. I think you get money for it...."

Oliver's face was fairly red now from trying to refrain from laughing out loud.

He sighed heavily. He did not get paid enough for this job. "That is inappropriate to ask-"

"Do you fancy anyone? I could totally set you up. I've seen a gazillion rom coms. I know what to do!"

Percy checked the time. No he couldn't leave yet. He sat up straighter, figuring that if he started the lesson now, he could salvage what was left of the time.

And his dignity.

Suddenly, someone--Phoebe, of course-- let out a gasp.

" Professor, you're wearing Professor Wood's shirt!"

Percy's head snapped down to look at it. It wasn't anything distinctive that could be traced back to his boyfriend. Nothing about Puddlemere or how much of a fanatic he was (he'd gotten a shirt like that as a gift for Oliver's birthday once). Just a plain olive green shirt. How did she-

Oliver was surprised too.

"How do you know?" One of his other students demanded.

"isn't it obvious? He's worn it before."

"You also said it makes his muscles pop," someone else pointed out.

Shamelessly, Phoebe agreed and added, "No offense, Professor Weasley, but that looks hideous on you. That is so not your color."

"It's a good thing I have you, Phoebe. Otherwise I might have worn the bloody thing outside," Percy deadpanned.

She nodded vigorously in agreement. Then something seemed to click in her mind. "Oh my gosh!" She let out another squeal. "Do you guys know what this means?!"

Her classmates simply blinked.

"If Professor Weasley is wearing Professor Wood's shirt....they must be together or something!"

Alarm was clouded over Percy's face. He was rendered speechless at how she'd figured it out. Oliver jumped to his feet and came around to the camera on the laptop so the kids could see him. "Hey, kids," he waved.

"No way!" Phoebe exclaimed excitedly. "Hi Professor Wood! I can't believe you hooked up with our History professor. This is so cool! Everyone thinks you're both hot. This is like double hot....like fire!"

Both men regarded her with amusement.

"I feel like I should warn you, Professor Wood, that if you break Professor Weasley's heart, there's gonna be problems."

"Oh?"Oliver chuckled.

Phoebe nodded. "He's the nicest professor ever and if you make him cry just know I'm good with a knife."

"I have no intention of breaking Perc-Professor Weasley's heart," Oliver reassured her and kissed Percy on the forehead. The girls awwed and the boys grumbled about how gross it was.

Percy was grinning broadly. He'd been wrong about all this. Perhaps they didn't need to hide in the first place.

__

After class was over with, Percy placed the laptop on the floor and laid on the couch with Oliver on top of him, his head resting on his chest. The red-head threaded his fingers through his boyfriend's hair, craning at his neck at times to nuzzle him.

"Do you regret telling them?" Oliver murmured.

"No," Percy decided, dropping a kiss on Oliver's soft hair. "Not one bit."

"Me either."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Even if you are the world's oldest virgin."

"Oh shut up!"

[thegreatlibraryfangirl]

one hc that you will forever stand with for each character?

This has been sat here for far too long, I'm sorry.

Ok, so, really solid headcanons that I stand by. Hm.

A lot of these are whumpy!

Khalila: that after she burns her hands twice in one book (A&Q), she has trouble with the healing/scars. Also she has terrible long crampy periods. She works very hard at being a good, nice person (religion helps her), as she naturally has a quick, hot temper and is prone to getting frustrated at people (kind of understandable when you're a once in a generation genius but hey).

Dario: has anxiety. Also uses alcohol as pretty much his only emotional coping method. Also he has a weird collection of skills and knowledge (knife skills, secret spy code, knows that the Spanish court uses Obscurists and memory-altering drugs) which make me think he was unknowingly trained in spying as a child. Also he speaks Catalan, based purely on him mentioning Barcelona nostalgically at one point lol. He knows at least two sign languages, his native one and probably Greek (read my languages fic for more detail), and probably a 3rd, Spanish & Signed Spanish (that latter's not a language). I also really love headcanoning Dario as a trans man, but haven't figured out how to get it into a fic yet because face it, most of what I write is porn or angst.

Jess: is bi and doesn't know it yet in the books. I keep forgetting that this isn't actually canon. The sign language that Dario teaches him/that he displays with Alvaro is, imo, fingerspelling Catalan Sign Language.

Glain: is aromantic. Ok, that's kind of canon. Also, after all her canonical head injuries (one day I will make the list!!) that she suffers from a brain injury post-canon.

Thomas: is in love with Jess. I also forget this isn't canon tbh. I also have recently firmed up my headcanon about his leg injury at the end of S&I (which is sadly retconned along with lots of other stuff in S&P), which is that he dislocates his knee. This also heals badly and post-canon he sometimes walks with a cane. His love language is giving people presents (this is canon, come on).

Morgan: I adhere to the I&B version of how she discovered her powers (just before she would have come to the Library as a postulant anyway), not the S&I/S&P one which says she'd been on the run for years. I also think she's greyromantic and frankly, that in even questioning her relationship with Jess she's got more maturity and self-awareness than Jess' tendency to being a hopeless romantic. Related, because hey I like puberty being the power manifestation point, she got her first period late at 16. I like to think that if she hadn't been an Obscurist, she'd have been Lingua. Just because she deserves a unique interest.

Wolfe: his head was shaved in Rome. I could go on forever with whump here but I feel like as a fandom we all share lots of whumpy Wolfe headcanons tbh lol. Demiromantic just for his Nic, of course. I think that the house they live in was originally Santi's, while Wolfe moved straight from postulancy to living in the Lighthouse. Wolfe had probably never touched a kitchen in any way until he moved in with Santi.

Santi: Pre-Rome he was the one with the nightmares and PTSD from being a soldier for 20 years. Post-Rome he is suppressing everything Extremely Hard, including all the new symptoms from Wolfe's recovery period (it is not okay to strangle your student) let alone anything from canon itself, and is really very Not Ok.

and a couple of extras from some of my favourite side characters:

Alvaro Santiago: is very clearly a Spanish spy imo, with more than strictly ambassadorial skills.

Annis: was definitely in a sexual relationship with Keria and probably Eskander too.

[earnestly-endlessly]

Hi! Do you have any Cherik Army AUs? I've managed to find just 3.

Hi Anon, thanks for the ask. I found some good Army AUs, though some might not quite fall into the category of 'Army AU'. There are, surprisingly, few Army AUs that I have found, whereas there are several military and war AUs, but those don't necessarily involve an army. I did include a variety that involve an army in one way or another, though some fit the bill better than others. I hope you find some that you enjoy!!

Cherik Army AU

I Want to Guard Your Dreams And Visions – luninosity

Summary: I was reading Barbara Hambly’s Abigail Adams mystery novels, and then Erik/Charles American Revolutionary War AU happened. Little snippet in which they share a tent, drink coffee, and provide support to each other.

The Eggnog Riot – Sophia_Bee

Summary: 1826. The American Military Academy in West Point. The day after Christmas. Cadet Erik Lehnsherr wakes up naked with a certain cadet Xavier sprawled across his chest. He can only blame the eggnog.

No Man’s Land – ikeracity

Summary: It's 1914 in Ypres, Belgium. British soldier Charles Xavier has been in the trenches for four months of endless artillery fire, bone-deep cold, and constant fear of the enemy. But on Christmas Eve, the gunfire falls silent, and they climb out of their trenches for a Christmas truce. Charles, of course, meets Erik, the German soldier across the way.

My Land’s Only Borders Lie Around My Heart – pseudoneems

Summary: WW1 Christmas truce of 1914. Opposing soldiers Erik and Charles meet.

Le soldat – Iggyassou

Summary: Erik is in the trenches, trying to survive the war so that he can go back to Charles, his young lover waiting for him back at home.

Names – Squeegee

Summary: In the summer of 1917, British soldier Charles Xavier finds himself taking cover in a shell crater.

Not sure if the 'graphic' tag applies or not, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

Quell a storm with pen and ink – patroclux

Summary: Charles had spared his life. That was not something he could easily repay.

They wrote letters to each other for two years, until Charles was pulled out of the war from a sudden illness and Erik remained to fight for a cause he didn't believe in. One that ultimately had no effect; one that stole away four years of his life.

Traumatized and persecuted, Erik applied for a post at Janus, a lighthouse in the middle of the Irish Sea. He thought being alone would do him good.

Despite the letters and despite the love, Erik didn't expect Charles to find him.

Hier steh ich an den Marken meiner Tage – MonstrousRegiment

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a spy in the SS, and his British liaison is strategist Charles Xavier. Their relationship from the moment they meet to a year after the end of the war.

Theme and Variations: War – ninemoons42

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a musical prodigy and a man destined for great things and great stages. But his life is shattered by a terrible accident that leaves him blind and trying to find his way back to his life, his music, and his place in the world.

Then he meets Charles Xavier, an agent of Section 8 of the Military Intelligence Directorate of Providence, and he finds himself listening in to clandestine radio transmissions and clicking Morse code, and these sounds are part and parcel of a war that can only take place in the shadows and the hidden places of history.

Strib nicht von Mir – ravenoftheninerealms

Summary: A squad of Allied Forces, led by Charles Xavier, liberates the Nazi concentration camp where Erik was being held prisoner.

Cold foxholes, warm hearts – oddegg

Summary: Basically, this is Band of Mutants. A little slice of life in Bastogne.

Photographs and Memories – tirsynni

Summary: When war-battered Erik Lehnsherr met Charles Xavier, the man kneeling in the dirt and whispering to a lost refugee child, Erik feared his days of running from his deviance was done.

Marching Home – Quietbang

Summary: For a prompt on the meme asking for fic dealing with the fact that, in comics canon, Charles served in the Korean war.

War meant something different to this generation, Charles knew.

Crash on the Levy (Down in the Flood) – Quietbang

Summary: “This is much bigger than you think. You're in the middle of a war, and you don't even realize, do you?”

He pauses, and answers his own question.“No, of course you don't. How silly of me."

The Knight and the Dagger – Dow

Summary: A Lieutenant in the Soviet Army, Erik Lensherr had no other goals than to find the man that killed his parents. But when a discovery yields a little boy with wings like an angel, Erik is shocked to realize that he isn’t alone. There are other people like him, both dangerous and alluring.

Lifelong Service – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik thinks he should be the one to teach their recruits hand-to-hand combat; Charles makes a persuasive argument to the contrary.

Footsteps of uprooted lovers – ninemoons42

Summary: Against a turbulent backdrop of artistic, social, and political upheaval, the playwright Charles Xavier and the photographer Erik Lehnsherr find themselves meeting under less-than-polite circumstances, but part rather more amicably than they'd met.

When they find each other again in a Barcelona that is falling inexorably toward war, they find themselves taking up arms, each in his own way, and together they join a struggle for freedom, for love, and for their very lives.

Dear Soldier – Lindstrom, ToriTC198

Summary: "Dear Soldier,

I pray that this package finds you well. The organization gave us a list of odds and ends that you might need, but I thought that a person so far from home might appreciate something more than soap and tube socks."

When Charles' school decides to send care packages to the soldiers fighting in Vietnam, he chooses to also include a letter and a few personal touches. When Staff Sergeant Erik is the recipient of that particular care package it will spur a relationship that will change them both.

Fortunate Son – blueink13

Summary: he days leading up to and during Alex's deployment in Vietnam. Everyone handles it in their own way. Some handle better than others.

You’re Here – Deshonana

Summary: Everyone decides its a good idea not to tell Erik when his boyfriend comes home from the military.

Welcome Home –  loveydoveyecstasy

Summary: It's been two years since Charles was deployed to Afghanistan, and Erik can't wait to pick him up at the airport.

When Secrets have Secrets – ximeria

Summary: The arguments that take place in General Xavier's office when General Lehnsherr has a bad day are legendary. Quite frankly, no one really knows what's going on and if the two men have it their way, no one ever will.

Quiet Company – Sophia_Bee

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is always on the move. He's spent the last many years going from war torn country to war torn country telling the stories of the people there through photographs. Then one of his pictures is selected as a winner for the Pulitzer Prize and Erik finds himself stuck in London for longer than he wants. He ends up with an assignment to photograph Charles Xavier, a wealthy philanthropist who is intrigued to find himself working with a Pulitzer-winning war photographer. Erik is far less intrigued by someone he considers privileged and out of touch. Both of their lives are about to change in ways they couldn't imagine.

The City is Ours – RedStockings

Summary: Erik felt his heart racing with excitement, lightened, and for once felt joyful. Charles had looked at him, really looked at him, and there had been something there, a knowing of a kind. As the soldiers laughed amongst each other, and joked each other about who would succeed in marrying the boy, Erik made himself a silent vow. Charles was going to be his, and nothing would keep him from having him. He’d marry him, and he’d save him, and Charles would love him for it.

Not even the war could keep them apart... right?

Sign of the Times – dsrobertson

Summary: Casablanca-ish AU.

Charles Xavier meets Erik Lehnsherr in Paris, 1937. They spend the next two years with one another, stupid in-love, until war comes heavy in September 1939. Erik leaves for Poland and the Resistance movement there, promising to return. Charles is left in Paris, where Nazi jackboots march in, Summer of 1940. He becomes a member of the underground French Resistance, publishing illegal newsletters, leaflets, until news comes through in February 1942: Erik is dead. Charles throws himself into more dangerous work, meeting with Communists, helping derail a German train, and he does too much, goes too far. His friends find him safe passage out of France, out across the Mediterranean, to Morocco, Casablanca. It is here he finds Erik, alive.

The Waste Land – nekosmuse

Summary: The White Queen and her Shadow King sit on their throne, safe behind the psionic shields of the Walled City. The armies of Genosha batter uselessly at the gates, a war locked in stalemate. Magneto, camped in the frozen mud, receives word the Citadel intends to send a telepath to the front lines. The same telepath he met two years ago, who sat across a carved wooden chess set and offered Magneto the first friendly smile in a lifetime. The same telepath who still haunts his dreams.

Winter Comes With a Knife – RedStockings

Summary: It apparently came to no one’s surprise that the war-mage Erik Lehnsherr took up residence in the Dark Keep. I knew he was going to choose my sister, Raven, to be his apprentice so why wouldn’t he let me go? What did he want from me?

My name is Charles Xavier, I can read minds and use magic. I’ve met Kings and Queens, mages and magic users. I’ve travelled through lay-lines and jumped through the Dark Void… but none of that really matters.

I am leading an army into war, I am scared and I never wanted this. I’ve come to realise that what I want, rode into my life when I was still a child. Now he’s out there, ready to charge into battle. Ready to die for me.

Polaris – LastAmericanMermaid

Summary: Charles Xavier is 19 years old, doe-eyed and soft; Erik Lehnsherr is 24 years old, steely-hard and bitter. One is a soldier, the other a refugee. Both are mutants. There will be pain, oh yes.

(An AU in which Charles is a wounded British soldier, Erik is the German hiding in France who nurses him back to health, and the contents of this fic are best read to the soundtrack of Atonement.)

Note: Unfinished

MEDIC! – paladin_danse

Summary: A British airborne medic finds himself alone and afraid behind enemy lines. When he decides to save the life of an S.S. German officer he finds wounded in the snow, he has no idea the choice he has made will alter the course of the war—and their lives—forever.

Note: Sadly unfinished

Suicide is Painlesss – weethreequarter 

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr did not become a doctor to pick bullets out of children. Unfortunately the US Army had other ideas.

Stuck in the middle of the Korean War, Erik and his fellow civilian surgeons have to battle not only the war, but also weather, mud, and boredom. And that's without mentioning Major Sebastian Shaw who thinks war is the best thing that's ever happened to him and never should've been allowed to pick up a scalpel, or Colonel William Stryker who may or may not work for the CIA and probably doesn't even know himself.

Throw in new arrival Captain Charles Xavier, and Erik is in for a very interesting war.

Note: Unfinished

A Light That Never Goes Out – R_Cookie

Summary: It was meant to be the war to end all wars; these two men were never supposed to meet. One a German Jew, the other a British surgeon. The odds that their paths should cross were next to none - but War defies the expected. It always has, and always will.

From the beaches of Dunkirk to the treacherous slopes of Monte Cassino - this is their story.

WWII AU.

Note: Unfinished

[eat-worms]

yall, knife trick updated and I've been loosing my SHIT.

(I'm doing my schpeel for this under my wip for this piece cuz I want the final to be not so cluttered. )

ok so this fic like... almost single handedly resparked my love for making digital art. I had made a piece or 2 before the one I did for knife trick but they were very experimental and dazed and haphazard. I find it beneficial to draw from reference, but it isn't what I love about art. and so I read this fic and just was so so excited to do something with this wonderful world and these wonderful characters built from very little canon interaction. and I just drew. and I spent like a whole 2 weeks only drawing after that. it wasn't fan art for knife trick after that first piece. but I was so proud of it. and I saw what I could do. and I was inspired again by a vast and heartwrenching fictional world. and I haven't really taken a long break drawing since. and something about the tension and the luster of life these characters bring I find so enrapturing and rare (for me) in fanfiction and this truly has that. SO. HERES MY WIP after the new chapter. gosh this moment. oh and that quote, it made me cry, I saved it on my phone let me get it.

"The thing about saying goodbye is that they say goodbyes are the hardest, when really goodbyes aren’t all that hard at all. Saying goodbye is as easy as saying any other thing, in fact almost exactly that easy. As one leaves the grocery store and says goodbye to the cashier, they don’t feel bad at all; as you hang up the phone on an annoyed parent you might feel quite relieved to say goodbye.

Saying goodbye depends much less on what is said and much more on what isn’t said.

Sometimes the people saying goodbye are not aware they’re saying goodbye, and years down the line they will think to themselves, was that really it? The very last thing I said?"

like I'm SOBBING OMG. also rans autistic coding (not really coding, I think its confirmed just not spoken by the characters) is just... so important to me. I've been trying to get just an adhd diagnosis for over 2 years now and a lot of people in my life are saying I'm likely autistic, but regardless of all that I SEE my self in ran and it's so cool to see him learn more about himself. I have another diagnosis appointment tmr morning actually and it's like... wow. like the amount of self-reflection and frustration ran goes through during this story because of his differences with the culture around him. and how he always feels/is literally trapped because of this. it's just so real and personal. and even tho Watson is an asshat and imprisoned him before he got the answers he needed... he still got them. Ran and Jackie's story is just so special I'm glad I'm here to read it. it brings me so much comfort. also fanfic writers for this story... im coming for you. I probably already have come for you tbh 😅. Ok. I think maybe one person is gonna read this wall of text but that's alright, I just want it out there. this story is special. please please read it if you haven't. I'm going to go and re-read it again and finish this drawing!

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

Visions of sugarplums

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x female reader

Content: Pining, workplace romance, fake dating if you squint, oh no we’re snowed in, mention of food, kissing, making out, mostly-non-explicit sex (under-18s, jog on), so many sweet pet names you’ll get cavities, romantic Jack because apparently I'm a sucker for that

Word count: ~4800 (yeah. Jack is a demanding muse)

Prompt: “Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last” (Let Her Go, Passenger), for @yespolkadotkitty‘s follower celebration writing challenge 🎉

Note: I said canon Whiskey who? This cowboy drinks respect women juice.

Part two: Kentucky welcome Part three: Just say you will

Taglist (if you’d like to be tagged, un-tagged, or make a request for future fics, feel free to let me know): @writemessystarwars @keeper0fthestars @flightlessangelwings @yespolkadotkitty @emesispo @songsformonkeys @beccaplaying

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

A whirl of snow stings your cheek like a slap as you hurry through the grounds of the posh ski resort that sprawls across the valley, dotted with cozy cabins and million-dollar chalets.

Your sheer stockings, low-cut dress, and teetering heels are no match for snow bursts and the wind that cuts through you like a  knife. Inwardly cursing your alter ego and her penchant for skimpy fashions, you tug your thin coat more tightly around you.

This mission was supposed to be a piece of cake. A few days at a luxe resort, posing with your partner as an arms dealer and his girlfriend to get close to your target, and everything was going swimmingly...until your search of the target’s study during a cocktail party was interrupted by two of his security staff making their rounds ahead of schedule. The adrenaline rush of your narrow escape is still humming in your veins.

Beside you, long strides making quick work of the path, Jack Daniels has transformed himself from intelligence agent to wealthy gun runner with the world on a string. The cashmere overcoat that cost more than your first car is the perfect finishing touch to his sharp suit, and his dark good looks stand out even in the hazy moonlight.

Rounding the corner of a chalet, Jack slows his steps to a stroll. A strong arm pulls you flush against his side as he walks, letting an easy laugh float on the wind like you’ve said something witty. Before you have time to wonder what’s going on, another couple materializes in the pool of light from a lamp, squinting against the gusts that throw fresh powder into the air like confetti.

“Evening,” Jack says with a tip of his hat and a winning  smile, the very picture of a genial Southern gentleman. “This weather sure is pickin’ up, ain’t it?”

The couple mutter their agreement  and hurry on their way. Once they’re out of sight Jack’s hand slides to the small of your back, guiding you as you both quicken your strides again. Your teeth are chattering by the time the wind blows you onto the porch of your own cabin, and in a fumble of hands on the doorknob you step together into the blessed stillness of the spacious room.

A  cheerful whistle pierces the air and you turn to find Jack brushing snow off of his black Stetson and favoring you with a lopsided smirk. Even damp with melting snow he manages to be striking, all sultry eyes and dashing mustache and wayward strands of dark hair curling over his  forehead.

“Nothin’ like a little skirmish to get the blood pumping.” He carefully sets the hat on the fireplace mantel to dry. “I feel like...”

“...A tornado in a trailer park,” you finish with him, earning one of those wide, dimpled grins that always dazzles you a little in return.

“Just so,” he says.

“That’s another one in the ‘win’ column.” You try to suppress a shiver as you pull the flash drive that might as well be a smoking gun from the cleavage of your dress. “A few bumps in the road, but we got what we needed.”

Jack ignores the congratulations, stepping close to take your chilled hands between his large ones. His hands aren’t much warmer than yours, but the thrill that trickles down your spine has nothing to do with the cold.

The frown lines between his brows deepen. “Darlin’, you’re colder than a well-digger’s belt buckle. Go on and have yourself a hot shower while I get a fire started and check in with HQ.”

“I can wait, I’ll help you,” you offer.

He shakes his head, already moving toward the fireplace. “Don’t you worry, sugarplum, ol’ Jack’ll have this place snug in no time. You just get comfortable.”

Helpless against the lure of hot water and fuzzy socks, you rummage in your suitcase for a change of clothes. Still, you stop at the bathroom door to look back at Jack where he’s stacking logs with the same determination furrowing his brow as when he’s reviewing dossiers or cleaning his guns.

The two of you have been almost inseparable for the year that you’ve been working for the Statesman agency. Even your code name was assigned with your partnership in mind, a little inside joke Champ never gets tired of telling when he introduces the two best agents in the New York office: “...Because you can’t have a Manhattan without Whiskey and Vermouth!”

Jack comes on as strong as his namesake liquor, but you’ve seen the  steely nature under his flashy Southern charm, the practice behind the effortless shows of skill, the tender heart he hides with bravado.

And he has no idea you’ve fallen in love with him.

As though he can feel your gaze, Jack looks up, his stern expression relaxing. He gives you a wink and waves one hand to shoo you along before getting back to his task.

With a sheepish smile, you duck into the bathroom and turn on the shower before you can do something stupid.

Like asking him to join you.

***

"Mission report, Agent?”

Champ’s projection flickers into the armchair across from Jack, looking like some kind of Halloween effect with the flames dancing over the logs in the fireplace behind him.

“We’ve got all the intel we need.” Jack adjusts his glasses, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh. “Agents ready for pickup.”

“Glad to hear it. Where’s Vermouth?”

Jack glances toward the sound of running water. “She’s just showerin’ to warm up. We got caught in a snow flurry coming back to the cabin.”

“That so?” The ghost of a smile flits over Champ’s face. “I thought you’d want to be the one warmin’ her up.”

Jack’s not sure if he’s more annoyed by the teasing, or how quick he is to take the bait. “Champ, this ain’t a Fourth of July picnic. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m on a delicate mission with my partner.”

“Now, don’t get your feathers ruffled, son,” Champ says mildly, reaching for a highball glass. “You confided in me about your feelings, and I’m just givin’ you a little nudge of encouragement.”

“I did not confide in you.” Jack leans forward to jab a finger at the hazy image of his boss. “You tested Ginger’s new truth serum on me.”

Champ’s grin is distinctly unrepentant. “Well, you looked like a man who needed to get somethin’ off his chest. ‘Sides, I won twenty bucks from Tequila for being right.”

Jack only grunts, slumping on the couch again. “Your granny’s special mint julep recipe, my ass.”

“Jack, she’s a pretty girl. Smart as that whip of yours. You think you’ll be the only one to notice? Anybody can see Vermouth thinks the world of you, but one of these days she’ll be wearin’ another man’s ring if you don’t stop pussyfooting around and make good on all that flirtin’ you do.”

That idea settles in Jack’s stomach like a bad oyster.

Of course, Champ has a point.

You are pretty. No, scratch that...beautiful. You’re a hell of a good agent -- the quickest route to Jack’s bad side is to suggest otherwise -- but you’re so much more than that. Your sweetness and spirit are more than a man like him can hope to deserve, but damn if the way your eyes light up when you smile doesn’t thaw something long dormant in his chest.

If he’s been hell-bent on keeping things professional between you, his dreams are anything but. When he closes his eyes he sees you, soft and yearning and his. His to have and hold until he wakes up aching, with your phantom touch lingering on his skin.

He’s starting to forget why professionalism was so important to him in the first place.

“Champ, you got anything else related to this mission? Been a long day here.”

“Matter of fact, I do.” Thankfully, Champ has the grace to go along with the change of subject. “That storm’s kickin’ up too much snow to get a jet in there. You’ll have to hunker down and wait for a pickup in the morning.”

Well, if the universe wants to hand Jack another night in your company, who is he to argue?

“Copy that,” he says out loud. “We’ll await contact in the morning.”

Champ smiles. “Plenty of time for any long-overdue conversations you might want to have.”

“You’re startin’ to break up. Whiskey out.” Jack pulls off the glasses and tosses them unceremoniously onto the coffee table, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Sparing a glance at the darkening sky outside the window, he hauls himself off of the couch to put another log on the fire, trying not to think about how Champ just might be right.

***

When you emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam, Jack is lounging on the couch in front of a crackling fire. He’s traded the designer clothes for jeans and a faded button-down shirt and managed to tame his tousled hair. You know he takes pride in his trademark hat and bespoke suit jackets, but there’s something about him when he’s dressed down and softer around the edges that tugs at your heart.

He looks up when you come into the room, cheek dimpling with a smile. “Well, don’t you look like a new woman? Thought you were fixin’ to turn into an icicle on me for a minute, there.”

“Here’s hoping our next assignment involves sandy beaches and umbrella drinks.” You hug your sweater around yourself. “What’s the word from Champ?”

“Looks like we’re here for the night on account of this storm.”

As if on cue, a gust of wind rattles the windows, making you jump.

“Come and have a seat by the fire, sweetheart.” Jack picks something up from the coffee table and waves it at you. “Got a protein bar and some water for you. I don’t know about you, but a handful of damn canapes ain’t going to see me through to morning.”

“You sure know how to wine and dine a girl, cowboy,” you tease, dropping onto the couch.

His laugh is as good-natured as ever. “When we get back home, I’ll cook you the best steak you’ve ever had.”

“The best steak since the last one you cooked for me?"

“Well, a man should always be improvin’ his technique to keep a woman happy.” His dark eyes twinkle with mischief, and you roll your eyes but can’t quite smother a laugh.

The protein bar tastes something like chocolate-flavored chalk but you’re hungry enough to make quick work of it, washing it down with gulps of water. Jack nudges your shoulder and you find him offering his flask with a wry smile.

“’Fraid it’s all I've got in the way of dessert.”

The whiskey inside burns its way down your throat and mellows to spread its warm glow through your chest. With a sigh, you hand back the flask, watching Jack’s throat ripple with the swig he takes before reattaching it to his belt.

The liquor’s fire contrasts with the chill of the day in your bones, setting off a shiver that shudders through your shoulders and arms.

“Honey, you still cold?” Jack’s voice is rough-edged with weariness and whiskey.

“Well, I like a nice walk in the snow as much as the next girl, but I was half naked in that ridiculous outfit,” you say dryly.

One corner of his mouth quirks upward. There’s something unreadable in those fathomless eyes as he watches you for a moment before opening one arm, arching a brow in invitation.

Some tiny, winged creature takes up residence in your chest where your heart should be, and you immediately scold yourself. Jack’s your partner and your friend. Of course he has the decency not to want to see you miserable after a long, cold day.

So you tell yourself, even as you go to him, nestling into his side and letting his arm come around you to hold you close. His hand is relaxed on your shoulder, his thumb trailing back and forth in a gentle rhythm.

“Better?” he murmurs.

You feel like home, you think.

“Better.”

With Jack’s heartbeat steadfast and comforting under your palm, the last of your reserve dissolves. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck and melt into his warmth, breathe in his scent, musky and tinged with leather and sandalwood.

Quiet descends on the room, fleece-soft and a little sleepy, as you stare into the fire and let your mind wander. The hypnotic trace of Jack’s thumb over your shoulder is the only indication that he’s still awake.

You sneak a look at him. His eyes glitter black in the gathering dark and his profile is regal, carved into the stern dips and hollows of a Roman sculpture by the play of light and shadow from the fire.

He’s beautiful. You wonder if anyone’s ever told him.

“Jack?”

He hums in answer, almost the purr of a contented cat.

“Do you ever think about retiring?”

A soft snort of laughter rumbles against you. “You callin’ me old?”

“We both know I’d punch anyone who did,” you scold, giving his chest a playful swat. “I just mean...do you ever imagine doing something else? Something more peaceful?”

“Well, I’ve got a patch of land in Kentucky with a farmhouse. One day I suppose I’ll give up the apartment in the city and trade the Silver Pony in for a ridin’ mower.”

You frown. It’s a jarring reminder that after all this time, Jack still has his secrets. “You do?”

He nods. “It’s been in my family for generations, my granddaddy left it to me. Always thought I’d raise a family there. Houseful of kids, dogs, the whole nine yards,” he says ruefully.

He doesn’t have to tell you why he never did.

The tragic loss of Jack’s wife and unborn son is no secret in the agency, and you might know better than anyone about the hole they left in his life. It’s always broken your heart for him, but the idea of this family home that sits empty but for his ghosts makes it suddenly, achingly easy to imagine Jack building a cradle in the barn and reading bedtime stories and teaching little ones to ride their first horses.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” you offer. “You never know.”

He squeezes your shoulder for an instant, a silent recognition of your kindness, before going on with a breezy sigh. “What about you? You fixin’ to go plant yourself by a pool somewhere with a fancy drink in one hand and a book in the other?”

“What, and not get to play fake criminals at cocktail parties with you?” you scoff. “Not a chance.”

His smile is sharp and sweet as molasses. “Well, I'm always happy to escort the most beautiful woman in the room.”

There’s something so plain and sincere about the sentiment that you’re taken aback.

Jack throws around compliments like other people talk about the weather. But you know when he’s just greasing the wheels of conversation, filling the space between words...and this isn’t it.

Ignoring the rush of heat into your cheeks, you default to the safety of humor. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Agent Whiskey.”

The smirk, the laugh, the sly innuendo you’re expecting don’t come. He shifts to look at you, so close and so handsome it hurts, and the naked admiration in his eyes makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Ain’t flattery, sugarplum.” His thumb travels fleetingly to the bare skin of your neck above the collar of your sweater. “You’re as pretty as a Kentucky sunrise and twice as bright, and that’s the truth.”

“Jack, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me...that anyone’s ever said to me,” you blurt out, and mean it.

His dimple deepens, and a dash of his usual devilish charm flashes across his face. “Well, if we’re bein’ honest with each other, I must confess to thinkin’ lots of complimentary things about you.”

You can barely hear him over the hammering of your heart.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls. The flicker of his glance to your lips is so quick, you could almost miss it.

But you don’t.

Maybe it’s the whiskey, maybe it’s the wind wailing in the eaves, maybe it’s the thrill of almost being caught by the bad guys, but something prods you on, dares you to play with fire. Your hand shifts almost imperceptibly on his chest, letting the tip of one finger find the warm, tanned skin at the open neck of his shirt.

“And what are you thinking right now?”

Something hot and swaggering flares in his eyes and you know, you know he’s picked up your gauntlet.

“Well, sweetheart...” His hand moves from your shoulder, trailing lazily to the nape of your neck. He tilts his head to watch goosebumps erupt in the wake of his touch before turning that smoldering gaze on your face again. “Right now I’m wonderin’ what you’d say if I were to kiss that pretty mouth.”

“I’d probably ask what took you so long.”

You barely finish the sentence before his hands cradle your face and his lips are on yours, stealing your breath with their plush softness.

Nothing in your experience of lukewarm flirtations and flaky boyfriends has prepared you for Jack’s affections. He’s a force of nature, possessive and generous by turns, and his approving hum when you open for him and the hot slide of his tongue against yours have you clinging to him like you’ll drown if you let go.

It’s only when you’re nearly dizzy that you break away for air. “Jack,” you whisper, sinking a novel of emotions into one syllable.

His lips brush your forehead. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. My beautiful girl.”

“I’ve always been your girl, Jack.” You rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes against the glaring, shimmering audacity of the words. “I love you.”

The exhale that fans over your cheek is your name. Your real name, the one thing he almost never calls you. His hand is gentle, tilting your chin up. “Look at me.”

You gather the nerve to lift your eyes to his, only to find them soft. Happy.

“Honey, I love you.” His dimple makes an appearance with an apologetic smile. “Hell, I was smitten from the first handshake. But you were a new agent, and things were workin’ out so well, I never wanted to upset the applecart by tellin’ you so.”

Your laugh is breathless with relief. “Well, then,” you say, toying with the button that stands between you and his bare chest. “I guess we’ve got some lost time to make up for.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” With the agility of his training, he hooks one hand around the back of your knee and the other around your waist and moves you to straddle his lap. His big hands splay across your back to pull you snugly against him as he traces the line of your jaw with his nose. “Now where were we, darlin’?”

Your head is spinning with the nuzzling of his nose over your pulse point and the broad warmth of his chest pressed to yours and the growing hardness under the tight denim of his jeans.

“You were--” You break off in a gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck. “You were kissing me better than anyone else ever has.”

“Baby, I’m gonna make you forget about ever kissin’ anybody else.”

You don’t bother telling him you’re way ahead of him.

Jack’s hair is soft and thick when you weave your fingers into it like you’ve always wanted to, stroking where it hints at curling at the nape. When your hand slips under his collar to shape the strong column of  his neck, caress the vulnerable skin under his jaw where his pulse is thundering in time with yours, the low growl in his throat sends heat spiraling straight to your core.

He surges up to capture your mouth again, a hot, demanding crush of lips and tongues that makes you move restlessly against him, wanting more. He doesn’t miss it, and when he slides one hand to your lower back to press you even closer on his muscled thighs every nerve in your body lights up.

“I want you, Jack,” you plead between kisses. “Need you.”

His hands slide underneath your sweater and come to rest, warm and calloused, on the soft skin over your ribs. When you least expect it, he gentles the kiss into something almost chaste and when he pulls away, just enough to look into your face, his eyes have gone solemn.

“Tell me to stop, sweetheart. I will.”

You could burst with love for this man.

“I’ll strangle you with your own lasso if you do.”

Jack barks out a surprised laugh, lighting up with a grin before he goes in for another kiss. “Gonna take care of you, sweet girl.” His voice is silky against your lips. “Gonna give you everything you need.”

His hands move, bringing your sweater with them to whisk it over your head, and you feel the weight of his appreciative gaze roving over your bare skin and sheer bra.

“I can’t remember when I’ve seen anything so gorgeous.” His hands are back at your sides, fingertips teasing at the edges of the purple lace that leaves little to the imagination. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re blown dark and deep with desire. “And I reckon you’d look even prettier spread out for me on that big bed.”

That’s all it takes to have you scrambling to your feet, shimmying out of your leggings and socks as you cover the handful of steps to the luxurious bed that faces the fireplace. You reach for the clasp of your bra, but a click of Jack’s tongue halts your movement.

“Slow down, there, honey.” There’s a hint of command bleeding into his voice that you know well from missions, the sound of him giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed that always kindles a flame in you. “Let your man unwrap his gift.”

A blush warms your cheeks and trickles down your neck as you drop your hands to your sides and wait for him beside the bed, anticipation tingling in your limbs.

Jack has beautiful hands, as graceful as they are strong, but they’ve never been so mesmerizing as they are now, making quick work of his shirt’s buttons and carelessly shedding it to the floor.

You’ve seen him shirtless before -- it’s hardly avoidable when you spend most of your lives together -- but never like this. Never when you’re openly staring at his broad shoulders and lean waist and the smooth planes of his chest, all bronzed in the glow of firelight. And certainly never when he’s calling himself your man and looking at you like he’s starving and you’re his favorite meal.

His arms slide around your waist and the heated press of his skin against yours tears a soft whimper from your throat. He catches it with his mouth, blends it with his own hum of satisfaction in a searing kiss.

He keeps his lips on yours even as he eases you back onto the bed, laying you down on the fluffy comforter with his hand cradling the back of your head. He stands again for as long as it takes to shuck off his jeans and kick them away before he’s crawling over you, settling his warm weight over your body and into your welcoming arms. You’re so swept up in the kiss that reunites you that you barely notice the skillful flick of his fingers that frees you from your bra...until he bends his hot mouth to your breasts and lightning spikes through your veins.

“So perfect,” he praises against your tender skin. “So good for me.”

He’s perfect. Even more than you’ve imagined on the lonely nights when you give yourself over to fantasies just like this, of Jack pressing you into a mattress and murmuring sweet sentiments in that liquor-and-honey voice while his clever hands find you more than ready for him.

A whine escapes you when the cool air of the room suddenly replaces the heat of his body, leaving you bereft.

“Don’t you worry, honey.” Jack’s voice drops an octave, even as a smirk coaxes his dimple out of hiding. “I said I’d take care of you.”

Warm hands slide your panties down your legs and off, and he strips off his own boxers to come back to you in all his naked glory.

His strong biceps cage you in and his mouth finds yours again as your hands roam greedily over golden skin and taut muscles and the hot, hard length between you.

“Jack, you’re so beautiful,” you sigh, over his panting breaths into your neck. “I’ve wanted this. Wanted you, for so long.”

He raises his head to look at you, lush lips parted and eyes blazing. “Honey, you’ve got me. For as long as you’ll have me.”

He kisses you like he’s sealing a promise.

And then he’s inside you, like he belongs there. Maybe he always has.

Every surge of his body, every stroke of his hands, every gritted curse and word of praise pressed to your skin makes stars burst behind your eyelids, and when you’re clutching blindly at his back and keening his name like an incantation, his voice is a desperate rasp in your ear.

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.”

You do. And he does.

And when he grips bruises into your thigh and shudders in your arms and buries a broken declaration of love in your hair, you know beyond a doubt there will never be anyone else.

***

If there’s a heaven, Jack’s pretty sure he's died and gone there to be lying in a cloud of down comforters with you tucked close to his side, head pillowed on his shoulder and legs tangled with his own. The bare skin of your back is petal-soft under his stroking fingers as he watches the firelight dance on the ceiling.

“I love you, Jack,” you murmur, and his heart swells too big for the prison bars of his ribs.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He laces his fingers with yours on his chest, brings them to his lips. “You know, I dreamed about this,” he confesses.

You raise your head, resting your chin on his chest to look at him. “You did?”

“I did. Felt a little guilty about it, if I’m bein’ honest, but I don’t guess I could help it.”

“I won’t hold it against you.” Your eyes sparkle at him in the dim light. “Did I live up to your dreams?”

He smiles, sweeping a stray lock of hair away from your face. “Oh, honey, they couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing.”

You look pleased with that answer, nuzzling a kiss into his neck before settling your head on his shoulder again.

“I can’t wait to get you home,” he muses. “Have you in my own bed.”

He feels you smile against his skin. “As many nights as you want, cowboy.”

“Careful, there. I might take you at your word, you’ll go home and find movers at your place.”

You sigh out a laugh that’s music to his ears and draw idle shapes on his skin with your fingertips in the quiet.

“Jack,” you say again, soft as a peach blossom.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Will you take me to that farmhouse sometime?”

His greedy heart can already see you there, breathing life into the place.

You, perched on the kitchen counter, feet swinging in time with your chatter while he cooks for you. Sitting with him on the porch swing to watch the sunset splash its tapestry of pink and orange and lavender across the sky. Soft and sweet underneath him in the big cherry wood bed, greeting the pale glow of morning with sleepy eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

A backyard wedding.

Tiny, mewling cries in the night and your silhouette framed with moonlight from the picture window while you nurse a baby who has Jack’s eyes back to sleep.

The peace that washes over him is too good to be true, too hopeful for his battered heart, too honest for his life of compromises.

He closes his eyes, drinks it in anyway. Claims it. Squeezes you a little closer in his arms.

This is the dream that lasts.

“That’s a promise, sugarplum.”