#panacea au fic

[absent-enigma]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46636741/chapters/117450313

Updated up to ch 5!

[burntheedges]

Roll-A-Trope Challenge Masterlist

Y'all the response to this challenge blew me away!! 🥺🥰 We are going to have so many amazing fics to read! 🧡 Check here for all of the character/trope pairings from when people joined.

I'll link each one as they're posted. Under the cut you'll soon find fics for Dave York, Dieter Bravo, Din Djarin, Dio Morrissey, Ezra (Prospect), Frankie Morales, Jack Daniels, Javi Gutierrez, Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Marcus Acacius, Marcus Moreno, Marcus Pike, Max Phillips, Nathan Landry, Oberyn Martell, Pero Tovar, and Tim Rockford! And so many amazing tropes!!

Last updated: 11/4 | Fic count: 52!

Dave York

Audience of One by @katareyoudrilling | 3k | Dave x f!reader Trope: famous person AU

Can You Remember Who You Were? by @punkshort | 9.1k | Dave x f!reader Trope: reincarnation

Danger Zone by @almostempty | 6k | Dave x Lana Kane (you) x Sterling Archer (crossover with Archer (TV)) Trope: snowed in

Down Bad by @schnarfer | 6.1k | Dave x f!reader | part 2 Trope: only one bed (and bonus, it's a coffee shop AU!)

Sunshine & Rainbows by @jeewrites | 10.1k | Dave x f!reader Trope: amnesia

Dieter Bravo

Broken Hearts Mended by @bitchesuntitled | 6.1k | Dieter x f!reader Trope: time travel

Just like the Picture by @nerdieforpedro | 936 | Dieter x gn!reader Trope: landlord

Teleportation and Blue Whiskey (part 1) by @davnittbraes | 1.5k | Dieter x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator

this protector by @perotovar | 3.1k | Dieter x Din Trope: only one bed

Din Djarin

Familiar yet Foreign by @whxtedreams | 3.7k | Din x f!reader Trope: fake marriage

New Home (Part 1) by @weirdoneattheparty | 2.1k | Din x f!reader Trope: friends to lovers

something worse by @corazondebeskar-reads | 3.2k | Din x f!reader Trope: enemies to lovers

The Long Way Round by @din-cognito | 3.17k | Din x gn!reader Trope: road trip

Dio Morrissey

Crimes Against Each Other by @crowandmousewritingco | 2.9k | Dio x trans!reader Trope: enemies to lovers

Ezra (Prospect)

To Leave the Green by @cas-readsandwrites | 2k | Ezra & Cee, gen Trope: time loop

Frankie Morales

a kiss, my panacea by @skittlesfics | 917 | Frankie x gn!reader Trope: sickfic

Better Love by @docharleythegeekqueen | 3.4k | Frankie x reader Trope: snowed in

Dreamers (part 1) by @beefrobeefcal | 3.4k | Frankie x reader Trope: soulmates | now with Part 2!

Forever starts tonight by @sawymredfox | 3.6k | Frankie x f!reader Trope: pining

GOING DOWN by @aurorawritestoescape | 3.4k | Frankie x f!reader and Joel x f!reader Trope: exes

I Like You A Latte by @inept-the-magnificent | 752 | Frankie x f!reader Trope: coffee shop AU

I'm Yours by @ashleyfilm | 3.2k | Frankie x reader Trope: secret relationship

To Feel Your Body Against Mine by @flightlessangelwings | 4.5k | Frankie x f!reader Trope: secret relationship

Jack Daniels

If I should die before you do by @maggiemayhemnj | 1.7k | Jack x f!reader trope: soulmates

Life's a Dance by @wordywarriorwrites | 2k | Jack x reader Trope: didn't know they were dating

Lucid Dreams by @fhatbhabiee | 3.2k | Jack x reader Trope: friends to lovers

Javi Gutierrez

Things You Knew by @eff4freddie | 8k | Javi G x reader Trope: soulmates

To Make a Day for You by @yopossum | 3k? | Javi G x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator

Javier Peña

3 sides of a man by @milla-frenchy | 3.3k | Javi x f!reader Trope: secret relationship

between two floors by @glowingxeyes | 1k | Javi x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator | there’s a part 2 and 3!

GOING DOWN by @almostfoxglove | 3.3k | Javi P x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator

good guys, bad deeds by @miss-oranje-disco-dancer | 3.9k | Javi x f!reader Trope: only one bed

Joel Miller

Birds of a Feather by @whocaresstillthelouvre | 5.3k | Joel x f!reader Trope: snowed in

Besties by @butterphii | >1k | Joel x f!reader

drive by @kedsandtubesocks | 2k | Joel x f!reader Trope: road trip

For Better or Worse by @captainredspade | Joel x f!reader Trope: fake marriage

Fragile State by @galway-girlatwork | 2.5k | Joel x OFC!Tara Trope: amnesia

Galway Girl by @yxtkiwiyxt | 7k | Joel x f!reader | part 2!! Trope: soulmates

If You're Reading This by @crowandmousewritingco | 4.5k | Joel x nb!reader Trope: epistolary

It Had To Be You by @jobean12-blog | 4.8k | Joel x f!reader Trope: enemies to lovers

Wish by @hotgirlbedtimescenarios | 1.7k Trope: time travel

Marcus Acacius

Searching for the stars by @the-mandawhor1an | 2.7k | Marcus x f!reader Trope: time travel

Marcus Moreno

Through Every Lifetime by @joelalorian | 4.5k | Marcus x f!reader Trope: reincarnation

Marcus Pike

Pike's Place by @pedges-world | Marcus x reader Trope: snowed in | series!!

Max Phillips

A Little Broken by @clawdeewritesfanfic | 3.2k | Max x f!reader Trope: pining

Time After Time by @grogusmum | drabble | Max x f!reader Trope: reincarnation

Nathan Landry

consensus ad idem by @sunshinehaze1 | 4.9k | Nathan x f!reader Trope: snowed in

Oberyn Martell

sweet and sour by @iamasaddie | 5.5k | Oberyn x f!reader Trope: fake relationship

The Correspondence of the Contagious by @crowandmousewritingco | 1.4k | Oberyn x gn!reader x Ellaria Trope: epistolary

Pero Tovar

Memories made, memories lost by @avastrasposts | 7.9k | Pero x f!reader Trope: amnesia

Tim Rockford

Keep Quiet by @auteurdelabre | Tim x f!reader Trope: secret relationship

When Only Memories Remain by @artsy-girl-76 | 3.4k | Tim x f!reader Trope: "shop" AU

[idaredivel]

Don't know if i said it here but i have a Mishanks War Gods AU on the making

i'm taking inspo from greek mythology but it's mostly just the titles, examples:

Mihawk : God of violent war (inspired in Aphrodite's old domain but also in Ares himself)

Shanks : God of strategic war

(inspired in Athena, will also have for secondary domain Dionysus' parties/alcohol)

Zoro : God of violent death

(inspired in the Keres)

Luffy : God of freedom

(based on Artemis, which while not being explicity the goddess of it, she was given the epithet of Eleutheria, which is basically it)

Ace : God of the Sun and Truth

(based on Apollo, the twin brother of Artemis)

Law : God of health

(based on Hygeia, goddess of preventive medicine and Panacea, goddess of universal health, one of her sisters)

Honestly at first i just wanted to write a simple oneshot god AU, but it went kinda out of hand, lmao

It will be multichapter but contrary to A Rare Case, these will be one shots. A series, basically, but everything in one place instead of each being a separate fic.

Already did that with my Waking up with you series and since i'm very much a Mythology geek, there will be probably more than four.

I leave you all with a bit of the first and un-betaed one shot, that centers around Shanks and Mihawk's birthday:

[...] The red-haired god got up from his seat like he was struck by lightning, eyes going wide and lips parting. If his heart was already beating fast because of his counterpart's near proximity, then it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, now that he laid eyes on him. Because Mihawk was always gorgeous no matter what he wore, but now with the dress draped over him, that had the opportunity to add to his natural grace, he looked absolutely stunning. [...]

[weltraum-vaquero]

you could have it all (my empire of dirt)

4. hold me (like a knife)

[Chapter 1] ↠ [Chapter 2] ↠ [Chapter 3] ↠ [Chapter 4] ↠ [Chapter 5] (coming soon)

[AO3 link]

Western AU

18+

Jayce Talis x GN AFAB Reader

Word count: 9.5k+

Synopsis: Now that things between you and Jayce have ended, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Until everything takes a turn for the worse.

Tags/warnings: Jayce being the world’s saddest sack of shit. Graphic violence towards the middle and end of this chapter. Character death (but it’s nobody important). Caitlyn being the only person with a brain.

Notes: I can’t quite believe that this chapter is finally done. I’ve had the plot of this specific part of the story in mind for almost two years now, and to say that executing it was daunting is an understatement. I hope I didn’t disappoint, and, just as a heads up, this is about the middle point of the fic. There is still a long way to go, and far from the end for Jayce and reader! As per usual: a big, huge thank you to my wonderful friends, who were so helpful with their valuable feedback, and helped this chapter become what it is now. Enjoy!

“Jayce?” 

The door creaks open slowly, letting in the barest, flickering sliver of light. 

It stings somewhere at the back of his already pounding head to look — he has to squint to even bear glimpsing, but he still does, delusionally hopeful in a way that’s masochistic.

The smudge of a shadow he sees through his lashes takes on the form he aches to see the most — shoulders just the right size to hang onto, neck just the right slope to nestle into, arms just the right size to wrap around him tight and hold him so he’ll stop falling apart — you. 

But it’s not you. Why would it be you? 

Cold hands, colder gaze, you hadn’t deemed him worthy of another word as he’d set to leave. He’d stopped, back turned, shaking with the tears he’d been swallowing, listened to the prairie crickets and waited. Counted all the way up to ten in his head, hoping you’d have the guts to find some inexistent panacea to the wound you’d torn into his heart. 

But you hadn’t said a thing. Why would you?

Jayce had given Topacio the spurs, riding fast enough to dry his tears before they reached his chin, and hard enough to drown his sobs out with the pounds of galloping hooves on the way back.

Why would it be you now, here, in the Kiramman estate, crawling back to him and begging for forgiveness?

“Hi, Cait,” he croaks.

And he wouldn’t fucking give it to you either way. Not after what you did to him.

“Hey.” It’s hysterical just how she draws out the e, hushed little sound, like she’s trying to soothe a spooked horse. 

Empathy’s never been her strong suit. 

But he’s sure he’s a sorry enough sight to be worthy of such a reply. He’d pulled the curtains to his room shut tight to stifle all sunlight, and sat in a sad corner of his room — hadn’t even granted himself the comfort of sitting on his bed — before he’d sobbed the night and day away. And though he’d torn his heart open and wrung it out into every tear, it had not ached any less, it hadn’t grown any lighter. 

How could it, now that he knows the most meaningful relationship of his life matters so little to the one person he would have given everything up for?

“I was sure you were still out and about but… well, Fenton said he’d seen you ride in last night, and I thought… you might be here.” She clears her throat, sliding into his room uninvited. She maneuvers it suspiciously clumsily — it takes Jayce a second to pick up on the fact that it’s because she holds a candle in one hand and a plate of sad-looking, long-cold dinner leftovers in the other. But she shuts the door with her foot, not at all silent, before she sits down across from him on the floor. 

Jayce draws his feet a little closer, hugs his knees a little tighter. Company is the last thing he needs when he wants to wallow in his own misery, when he wants to twist the knife you’ve stuck into his heart and let himself bleed.

But how could he lay in his own metaphorical puddle of blood and physical puddle of snot and tears when Cait is here to watch?

She’s trying very hard to make no big deal of it — of how much Jayce is looking like the world’s saddest sack of shit — as she sets the plate down first, then untucks whatever’s under her other arm so she can put the candle down, a safe distance from the carpet.

“I’m, really— I’m not much company right now,” Jayce tells her. His voice is so hoarse from sobbing it’s just a whistly, airy, pathetic whisper. He’d almost forgotten how much he hated feeling meek. 

You’d nurtured that part of him, had lulled him into believing it was alright for him — protector, hunter, a man of the law — to be everything he wasn’t supposed to be. And he’d let it happen.

Why does he have to be like this? Every part of him seems sculpted for power — his size, his strength, his skills — and still he yearns for weakness. To be cradled and kissed and touched like he’s none of those things.

No other lover had gotten through to him, and he doesn’t blame any single one of them — who would look at him as anything beyond a guard dog with a pretty face, when that’s all he’s supposed to be? Who would want to reach deeper and touch the parts of him that don’t fit the man he’s clearly meant to be? 

But you’d had. You’d called him princess and baby and you’d caged him in protective embraces and had let him grow soft. You’d given him everything he’d never had, and you’d done it all just to fucking hurt him. To wield his own weakness like a knife. You’d shaped it into something sharp and waited for the right time, right place, to tear him open with it.

And yet, he’d let you do it all over again — just to have a taste of the months he’d felt truly understood. He’d lay his head in your hands all the same, willing lamb under the butchering knife. If he’d be back in that saloon, he’d melt in your hands, let you lick into his mouth and sink your teeth into his neck. You wouldn’t need to even ask. He’d just tilt his head back and wait.

Because he loves you.

Choking back a sob, Jayce shivers with how much that realization shakes him — he still loves you, beaten dog licking an abusing hand, runt of the litter crawling back to warmth it will be inevitably chased out of.

You’re gone. And you’ll never care enough to come back.

“Here.” Caitlyn nudges the plate towards him in an attempt to snap him out of the incoming breakdown. “Eat up,” she encourages. “You must be hungry.”

He shakes his head.

Jayce wonders if he ever will feel anything again, except for a dreadful pit of numb pain smack in the middle of his chest. No noxious acid burning in his stomach if he avoids eating, no itch in his lungs when he holds his breath too long, nothing but the sore gaping fucking hole he can’t see but damn well feels so thoroughly he wonders if he could stick his entire hand in his chest.

“Alright.”

With that, she takes the book she’d brought with her and cracks it open. Like they’ve just finished having their late morning gossip session or like they’ve just slurped their teacups dry, like he isn’t curled up on the carpet and shaking with the effort of trying not to sob, Cait starts reading away in deafening silence.

“What… are you doing?” 

She says it like it’s easy. He knows it isn’t — not usually, and especially not now. “Keeping you company.” 

“You don’t have to,” he croaks.

Her smile is so laden with pity it makes him sick. He crawls into the comfort of it nonetheless.

“I want to.”

Jayce doesn’t know what exactly it is about that which does him in so effortlessly, so thoroughly. 

Had you ever wanted to do anything for him? Without an ulterior motive? 

That thought makes him curl in on himself like a hurt animal. A whimper scratches at his throat, and his dignity washes down the drain with a fresh set of tears.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” And he should be, he thinks; maybe it’s his fault, maybe what he had with you could have lasted just a bit longer, if he hadn’t been this… soppy. This sentimental, this needy, this much. “I’m so sorry.”

Wordlessly, Cait shuts her book, and shuffles across the carpet to plop down next to him. Her gentle hand grabs his shoulder, squeezing like she wishes she could absorb some of the pain.

“C’mere.” And he knows how much that means. Caitlyn, raised on proper etiquette and not one for more than the average friendly shoulder touch, offering to hold him though his face is slick with snot and his back’s gone sweaty and he can’t even breathe right.

But she holds him anyway. She holds him like maybe he still matters.

Jayce loathes the way his next sob wrecks him, how he quakes with his whole being. He’d give anything to have you holding him like this, and he hates himself for it.

“I really am,” he whispers. He’s sorry he wishes this weren’t her arm around his shoulders. He’s sorry he doesn’t even know what to do with all the crushing weight of his love, sorry he ever thought you’d want it — want him. He’s sorry it’s so heavy now that he thinks all his bones might crack, he’s sorry Cait has to hold him even though he’s nothing but bits and pieces of himself. “S-so, so sorry.”

She lets him sob through it, rubs at his back. Jayce settles for curling in on himself, as if making himself small would make the pain drip out of his soul any faster, or make his heart mend any quicker.

It doesn’t.

Cait brushes the hair stuck to his sweaty forehead with a careful hand.

“The only one who should be sorry is them.” Her voice is bitter — a smidge too bitter. Jayce doesn’t know why he’s offended for you.

“How do you know?” He wipes at the snot under his nose, and tries not to think about how disgusting he is. 

“I know,” Cait pauses briefly, pondering her words, “that the only mistake you could have made was loving too genuinely.”

The only thing he can think of, the only thing that comes to mind, is to say sorry again. Sorry for being so much — too much. 

And who would want to love so much of what makes him everything he shouldn’t be? 

Who would want to love so much? 

And why had he been naive enough to think you, criminal, cheater, liar, would be up for such a horrific task?

“I’m so… s-stupid,” he mutters. Stupid for believing there was something even remotely worth loving about the amalgamation of too much that he is, stupid for believing you, of all people, would be the one to take on the challenge. Caitlyn shushes him, pulling him harder into the hug. But she doesn’t deny it, which is enough of an answer to Jayce. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

Jayce wants to parrot it back at her, but the words seem far too small for the overwhelming amount of regret sitting heavy in his chest. So he says nothing, because he knows he’ll break if he even tries.

And they stay like that. Jayce chokes on another snotty sob when she rests her cheek against his head, a reminder of the closeness he’s lost with you scratching at the fresh wound you’d left on his heart. 

She squeezes him close when he weeps so thorough it wrecks him, she pets his disgusting sweaty back when even crying becomes too much and his body turns to breathless, embarrassing blubbering, she tells him to breathe — shows him how, in and out, slow and steady — when his breath gets stuck between more tears and hiccups, and his brain goes woozy with a lack of air and he feels like he wants to throw up the empty space inside his stomach, inside his chest, throw up the pain, purge all remnants of the ache you’ve left in him.

But that’s all he is — feels like all he’ll ever be. Purging you, purging the pain you’ve left behind… he’s not sure what else would remain of him without the ache for you. He can’t remember what he was before it. He’s terrified of what he’ll be after it.

“Believe it or not — you’ve gotten a bit better at keeping silent while you cry,” she says once he settles into just sniffles. 

“The h-hell’s that supposed to mean?”

He hates how his voice cracks on his words.

“I remember when we’d brought you here the night after we’d thrown you that big party for saving me and mother. I was two rooms away and I could hear you sobbing your heart out through the night.”

He had.

His hands hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d first raised that rifle to protect Caitlyn and her mother, not for days. He remembers the champagne rippling in the flute he’d been clutching his fist around at that party (mrs Kiramman had to teach him how to even hold the damn thing properly), the rare steak wobbling on the silver fork. He remembers hearing his own heartbeat bouncing back at him in the egregiously fluffy pillow the first night he’d spent at the estate, the way he’d soaked it with tears and snot. He remembers wondering if he’ll ever sleep again.

“That feels like a lifetime ago.”

Cait nods. “It was. I remember thinking you were much too soft for the job mother was going to grant you, that it’d been just a stroke of luck that you’d rescued us when you did.”

“You have no idea how scared I was.” Jayce swallows thickly at the bitter memory. “Promoted from a simple cow wrangler to personal bodyguard to the mayoress and her family — god, I didn’t think I could make it either.”

“But you did.”

Jayce nods.

Caitlyn presses her cheek to him a little harder, squeezes him a little closer. “And you will.”

—

He won’t.

It’s enough to have your face flashing before his eyes, to sniff a distant replica of your leather-gunpowder-campfire scent, or to believe the sheets, damp and warm and rolled tight around his waist from all his restlessness from the previous night are your greedy, loving arms, to have his throat drawing tight and eyes brimming with tears.

And when he does close his eyes to indulge, for the briefest moment, in what he has left of you, in the cruel tricks his mind plays on him, longing shifts to rage.

Why wasn’t he enough to love? What could he have done to make you love him? Why couldn’t he be what you needed?

What was it about him that made you want to run from him, from the generous offer of a peaceful, simple life, and straight back into an existence reliant on scraps and crime? What made that life so much better than him and everything he had — everything he was more than willing to give you? 

What else could he have given you, to make you stay? What was there left to give?

That’s about the only thing that gets him out of his bedroom. Saddling up to ride out into fuck knows where and to just scream.

That’s all he’s good for, really. Weeks pass him by in the blink of an eye, spent in the darkest corner of his bed, so much so even leaving his room becomes a terrifying, daunting task.

He hates the pity the people at the estate treat him with, the way the Kirammans are so understanding. They don’t demand he joins them for dinner, not once. Food finds its way into his room at one point or another, they don’t insist he do anything, they just… let him rot away, in the most literal sense of the word.

Caitlyn spends time with him when she can find it, but as he becomes increasingly inconsolable, her visits lessen. 

Jayce can’t blame her for getting impatient with him. He is, too.

He hates that he can’t blame her, either, when he finds bullets from his drawers missing, his knife dulled, and his weapons suddenly cleaned the way they’d only require after serious use.

Of course his inaction couldn’t go on forever.

The sharp, mean daggers Cassandra’s been glaring his way whenever he did scurry out of his room and met eyes with her, Caitlyn’s growing absence around the house — they suddenly fit together like puzzle pieces: Caitlyn has begun picking up his slack.

And he wishes, god, he wishes he could be proud, because Caitlyn deserves it, she’s wanted to fill in his footsteps since the first time he’d taken her with him on a hunt all those years back — but he’s angry. 

He knows that above all else, this means he has become the last thing he’s ever wanted to be: a pathetic charity case. A failure at his one duty. 

She should not be out there by herself. He should be there. Teaching, watching, helping, but he’s not, he’s stuck, he’s drained, and he’s so bone-achingly tired, even though all he does is sleep and cry.

So when Cassandra slips into his room one evening (trying not to wrinkle her nose at the sight of his unkempt beard or food stained union suit) and hands him a bounty poster of some crooked looking outlaw, it gives him the push he needs.

She tries to put it gently — suggesting it might do him some good to get out there again — but he knows what she means. She doesn’t pay him to sit around and sob, and this bounty… he can see why she would not want her daughter anywhere near such vermin. Even with all his equipment, which by now Caitlyn undoubtedly knows how to use. That’s really all the motivation he needs, aside from some much-needed stress relief.

The fact that Caitlyn catches his wrist on his way out the front door and tells him he doesn’t have to  do this — at least not alone — does very little to deter him.

—

Match strikes matchbox. Dry wood crackles under the birth of new, tiny flames. The night grows a tiny bit less dark, but the prairie’s unbothered and taciturn.

He hasn’t smelled a campfire since… well. Since the last night he’d spent with you. But decidedly, the time you’d smelled most markedly of flames and ash was the night he’d let you kiss him after everything.

God, your eyes, glittering and gluttonous that night you’d spent with him after he’d tracked you down. And your hair, the near-animalic scent of your skin tempered by the freshness of cold air, the smell of leather clinging to you where he kissed and licked, the salt of your sweat, the musk—

God, he aches.

“Jayce, don’t shoot.”

His hand already hovers over his holster out of instinct alone, but he drops it the moment he recognizes that guilty tone.

It’s no wonder that Caitlyn’s decided to follow him.

With a sniffle, and a squeeze of his eyes, Jayce rolls his shoulders when he hears the sound of gravel under her new boots.

She’s already been holding his hand — figuratively and literally — an embarrassing amount these past months. 

Now that he’s finally trying to drag himself out of his slump (and slump is a very light word for sleeping and willing himself out of existence), she’s following him around like she knows he’ll stumble. He can practically hear the tension in her joints, ready to catch him not if but when he falls.

“I said I’d do this on my own,” he says.

Caitlin hums affirmatively. “I never said I wouldn’t let you.”

The audacity of her, to just say that like she hasn’t been doing the exact opposite for some time now.

“You’re a shit liar.”

Caitlyn sighs. “Mother told you.”

“I don’t need to be told. Do you think I wouldn’t notice? Jesus, Cait, your mother looks at me like—” Jayce catches himself before his tone grows cutting — he has no right to be mad at her for doing the job he clearly was not able to do. The very least she deserves, if not a grandiose thank you for doing my one and only job for me, is some kindness. He sighs shamefully, burying his face in his hands before he finds his words again, a smidge gentler. “You shouldn’t have to do this. Not by yourself. I should be teaching you, not letting you put yourself in danger because I’m too—“

“You’ve taught me more than enough,” she assures. Jayce wishes he could know how much of that lie is meant to comfort him, or her. 

Jayce wishes he could tell her that there’s more to it than the punches he’s taught her to throw and the target practice they’ve done. Jayce wishes he could tell her there will be bounties that break her (and that is unfortunately not limited to bounties like you).

But there’s a vigor, a hunger in her for this that he has rarely felt, if ever. His form was made for brutality, but his mind never was — and Caitlyn has the advantage of not sharing that predicament. She’s not soft in the ways Jayce is; she’s just inexperienced. And that is much more easily remedied.

“I hope so,” he decides to say. 

“We can start going on hunts together again,” she suggests. “You could teach me more — and you  wouldn’t have to do this alone.”

And that’s not a horrible thought at all. Except…

“Your mother would kill me if she knew I’d let this continue. I think she already has a quill and paper ready for my will considering what you’ve been doing because of me.”

Caitlyn laughs a little. “Let her. Would free up a position as Piltover’s best bounty hunter for me.”

“Hey.” Jayce tries his best to strike an intimidating tone, but it only makes her laughter swell. Something in his chest feels the slightest bit less empty.

Uninvited (though she knows by now that she is invited, always), Caitlyn approaches him slowly, sitting down beside him. They sit in silence for a moment while she picks at her fingernails, apparently nervous, before she puts herself back together, no less anxious, but fighting it. She lets her shoulders settle back, straightens her back, and glances Jayce’s way.

And though the air had been light and clear with shared humor mere seconds ago, the way she looks at him now is far heavier and more sombre.

“I didn’t track you down because I thought you couldn’t handle this bounty on your own.” For the first time since she’d approached him, her voice falters with uncertainty. 

And that’s a rare sight in Caitlyn. 

“Jayce, I… have to tell you something.”

In some fucked, pavlovian response, a part of Jayce rears its head and perks its ears like a starved dog at the sound of raw meat hitting the floor. 

This can only be about something she knows will hurt him. It can only be—

“It’s about them,” she says.

Every part of him hurls, every part of him hurts, every part of him hungers.

His ears ring. 

It’s about you.

Have you come back? Have you sent him a letter?

“What is it?” His voice has gone tight, throaty, and Caitlyn is overcome with immediate regret — she looks like she wishes she could swallow every word she’s just said back up.

His head reels with a thousand questions and a thousand answers. You’ve come for him. You still love him. You want the life he’s offered, finally, you want it, you want him. Maybe he’s not everything he thought he was. Maybe—

Maybe those hopes are too high, too bright, for the way in which Caitlyn stares him down like death looms behind her.

Maybe… maybe you’re gone.

But you can’t be, not, not you, slippery even in his grasp, you, with your mind just as much of a weapon as your arsenal. You, born wielding a gun, you, born holding a knife — death can’t have earned you this easily, this fast. 

Jayce repeats his question, a little more careful this time. It doesn’t seem to ease her doubts, but she gives in. And really, that’s all that Jayce is after right now.

“They’ve been caught,” she says.

That’s the only thing that could make your death sound plausible.

You… would be sooner dead than caught. He knows as much.

Caitlyn reads his disbelief with a frustrated sigh. 

“They made the front page on the Piltover gazette for it. Frankly, I… considered not even telling you.” She searches his eyes, but if she draws any conclusion, Jayce can’t read it. “You don’t deserve to be reminded of them. They’ve had it coming regardless—”

“Had what coming?”

“Jayce…” She goes silent for a beat, swallowing nervously, as if she dreads the words she’s about to speak. “They’re going to be hanged.”

Every fiber in his being protests at the mere word, but his entire body revolts once it really, truly sinks in — the mental image of your face, plum-purple, rope burns at your wrists, your own skin under your fingernails, hands bound behind your back, the body he’d kissed and loved and worshiped every inch of — lifeless.

On trembling legs, Jayce rises from beside the campfire.

You’re going to die.

The very thing he’d wished upon you, your punishment, is now imminent. And it’s only now that it hits him that he wishes his rage would have been gentler. That he realizes that even though you’d torn his heart to shreds and hurt him in ways that made him want to shove his hunting knife into the side of his neck, he doesn’t want you to die. 

He can’t let you die.

“Where?”

“Jayce—“

He takes a step closer, mustering up some of the intimidation that works so well on his targets — but it does little to Caitlyn.

Her breath leaves her lungs in a frustrated, terrified shiver. Not terrified of him — terrified for him.

And what terrifies him is how little he cares about the prospect of his own death, shall it find him when he finds you, helps you.

“Where?”

He hadn’t realized until then, how small Caitlyn’s hands were, until she took one his in both of hers. They’re not dainty — they haven’t been, since the day he’d taught her how to pick up a rifle, and they’ve grown rougher still since the day he’d taken her on a hunt with him. But they’re still smaller than his, and it hits him where it hurts.

It hits him where she wants it to, it hits him in that one spot that, in spite of being crushed under the weight of his responsibility as a protector, wants her safe. Wants her happy.

She’s like — she is family. 

“Jayce, I can’t lose you.” Her voice, though trembling with fear, does not falter. “If you go, there’s a real chance you could die saving them. I can’t let that happen.” Caitlyn swallows her tears, and something in her gaze darkens. When she speaks now, her voice is as steady as her aim. “And you will not die, not for them.“

He wants to make that promise. He wants to, but— 

“Where?”

He can’t.

She squeezes his hand tighter. And though there’s rage brewing in her eyes, Jayce knows that look — above all else, she’s terrified. 

He is, too.

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you.” She grabs both his shoulders, rough now in how she nearly shakes him with how hard she turns him to face her. “Jayce.” Cait swallows her tears. “They deserve this.”

And as much as those three words sink in his gut like he’d swallowed solid lead, he knows she’s right. He can’t leave her. 

“It isn’t even about what they’ve done to you,” she continues. Her voice fades behind the ringing in his head, grows quieter still. “Think of everything else they did. All they stole, all they lied.” She goes on, somehow, but Jayce doesn’t care for any of it. Not until— “All they killed.”

That last word hits him like a jaw-dislodging punch.

“They would never— Not unless it was in self defense, I know—“

“You don’t know that.”

And she’s right. 

He hates that she’s right. 

He’d dug his head into the dirt, blissful ignorance and willful naivete, had consoled himself that surely a killer’s hands could never do what yours do. How could your hands wring throats and stab chests when they could make his body sing? 

How could he be so fucking stupid?

You will receive your punishment. Not because you deserve it after what you’ve done to him — but because of all else you’ve done.

He has to let it happen. He has stepped on his morality enough simply by being with you, by loving you. The guilt will — has to — ease once he stops doing that.

Letting you face the consequences of what you’ve done is the first thing he can do for himself.

And possibly the best. It has to be.

“Talk to me,” Caitlyn encourages just as much as she downright demands. Her hand on his shoulder grows laxer, she squeezes his deltoid gently. But behind it all, Jayce can sense the fear, the way her fingers cramp up and her nails almost cut into the leather of his jacket.

He can’t leave her. He mustn’t.

“I’m not going,” he says. “They deserve it.”

It hurts more than saying he loves you. It hurts more than anything he’s ever said — and he’s scared shitless of how little he means it, now that he’s saying it out loud.

Maybe you deserve it. And maybe he’s not going. But no form of lying to himself can change the fact that he will never want you to die, in spite of everything. And there will always be a part of him that would leave everything behind to spend the rest of his days with you, though the opportunity for that is long gone.

But Caitlyn smiles, and she pulls him into a genuine, bone-crushing hug. Jayce tries his damndest not to cry. 

You’re going to die.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she says.

God, he hopes so.

—

God, he isn’t.

It becomes evidently clear, even as he clings to the false hope that he is. He hopes this hunt will be an easy, clean affair — simply holding his bounty at gunpoint, tying her hands behind her back, then taking her to the nearest sheriff’s office. But it isn’t.

When he finds his bounty sitting by her campfire, Jayce cocks his rifle, and says the right thing.

“We can do this the easy way,” he warns. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

When she turns to lunge at him in spite of it all, he doesn’t shoot.

He meets the impact halfway as the both of them tumble into the mud. He lets her get in a punch that he somehow feels he deserves for everything, after everything, before he lets it wake his will to fight. With some difficulty, he wrestles her into the dirt, until her ribs creak under the weight of his knee on her chest.

“Don’t make me kill you.” 

But she does.

With every fiber of her being, she begs for it. Stubborn, she wriggles below his weight until her bones crack, wincing as she draws a knife from her boot. 

But Jayce is nothing, if not trained in the art of catching dirty tricks. Especially after you. His hand finds her wrist, and bends her arm until the blade stabs the mud below her.

“Don’t make me kill you,” he repeats, but it sounds less like a threat this time around. Dauntingly much more like a plea.

She senses it. They always do, the likes of her — the likes of you — feed on weakness, which is why his never goes unnoticed. Her forehead whacks Jayce’s nose so hard he swears he can see every constellation in the night sky shining twice as hard, and maybe they do, because next thing he knows he’s looking at the stars, and she’s above him, her shadow doubling, regaining its contour, then doubling again, and his head spins.

Some twisted part of his mind conjures up the vision of you, framed by a backdrop of the bright night sky, smiling down at him, hands on his chest, roaming his skin in the pursuit of pleasure.

And he considers letting it happen. Whatever cruelty she has in mind for him — be it death or pain — for one brainless, blissful moment, he wants to be swidden with it. Maybe if there was something that actually hurt, other than that part of his upper stomach where it’s gaping and empty and aching, he could be cleansed of the pain, cleansed of you. 

Something in Jayce wakes when he hears the sound of iron bouncing off stone and stabbing mud, barely missing the side of his neck. That something is trained, automatic, raw, fast, unyielding. That something is the part of him that — in spite of everything — is so scared that it has sunk its teeth into staying alive and would rather lose its molars than unclench its jaw.

One of his hands finds her throat, the other crushes her nose into his second knuckle. She gasps for breath.

She loses enough of her balance to tip over, and Jayce lets his raw strength do the rest. His right hand joins the left on their throat, knuckles bloody. 

And it feels fucking good to squeeze.

It feels good, to have her at his mercy, until her chest draws up to receive air that does not come, until her throat trembles and cracks below his palms, until her hands start clawing at his wrists.

She makes a ghastly, haunting sound, guttural with broken cartilage and wet with blood.

Her windpipe cracks under his palms. It’s fucking satisfying. Like breaking a wet branch or unrooting a weed or hitting the bullseye.

Serves her right, he thinks. Serves her fucking right. She deserves this.

But the words scratch bitter at his brain, at the fresh wound of deserving — and suddenly his hands are not his, but a noose, and the flesh below his hands is not vermin, but breathing, living, eyes glittering with their final seconds of desperate fear, searching, begging, please please please I don’t want to die.

It could have been your neck between his hands all those months ago, outside that very saloon you’d first touched him. It could have been you, in that very bed, before you’d tied him to the bedpost. It could have been you, right beside that creek he’d twisted his ankle in. It could have been you, surrounded by bluebells, it could have been you, in his tent, it could—

It will be you.

It will be you, larynx crushed not by his hands, but by unyielding rope. 

And you will squirm like her. And your eyes will roll into the back of your head just like they had when he’d lick into your cunt just right and you’d squeeze his head between quaking thighs and grab his hair. And you will go slack at the very end, you will exhale what little is left in your lungs like you’re on the verge of falling asleep. 

And then you’ll die.

Her slack hands slide down his clawed up, raw forearms so gently they remind him of what it means to be touched tenderly. 

Touched by a lover.

Cicada squawks scratching at the sweet quiet of the night, arms winded around his shoulders loose, fingers brushing through his hair, reeking of campfire smoke and licking the same smell up from your skin. Kisses at his hairline, fitting together like two cats lounging in the sun, back when everything was alright with the world and he knew what love felt like. 

Before he knew what it meant to lose it.

Before he knew it wasn’t love. 

Before he knew you were going to die.

“Pl—sse…” a voice hisses, pawing at the claw marks on his wrists with a desperate gentleness, the way you would paw at his hips when he told you he had to go now, really, he said he would be back in Piltover by noon—

The neck under his palms swells, her throat gurgles with blood and spit. And he can’t help but let it happen. Jayce lets his palms go slack not because he wants to, a hunter shouldn’t spare, a guardian shouldn’t hesitate, a man shouldn’t back down.

But he’s none of those things. He was never fucking meant to be any of those things and he did them anyway because he had to and you took them from him. You took his perfected charade from him and now he has nothing. 

Not a hunter, not a guardian, not even a fucking man. 

And he can’t remember what he was before he was supposed to be anything– 

And he can’t think of a single thing he could be, when he fails, he fails, he fails. 

He fails at being a son, he fails at being a brother, he fails at being a protector, and he can’t remember the last time he wanted to be anything.

God, he wanted to be loved.

She gasps the way you did when he’d wake you as the moon slid down the sky and he wanted to steal one last kiss, she heaves ugly and pained and human, and she breathes.

It’s a disgusting, moist sound, whistling in and out as she gulps down air, and when his chest quakes and his lungs start struggling as though they’re a newborn calf tangled in barbed wire, Jayce realizes half those wretched sounds are his.

His head spins like he’s been punched again, chest tight, tight, tight, throat strung like he’s the one with a noose – your noose, you’re going to die. 

Fuck, you’re going to die. 

And he’s going to die, the empty space between his lungs constricts as though giving birth to something more rotten than all the months he’s spent hurting for you.

Jayce braces himself against the ground beside her neck with both hands, squeezing at the mud like it’s his convulsing heart. Jayce crawls away from her heaving body but doesn’t make it far.

His windpipe hurts, breathing hurts, he can’t even breathe right, what the hell is he even good for? Can’t breathe, can’t kill, can’t hunt, can’t sleep, can’t stop hurting, can’t, can’t, can’t. Fish on land, he huffs as though he was never meant to draw breath in the first place, never meant to be born at all. He’s going to die and so are you, and someone must be wringing his throat, but when he paws at it there is nothing but his own skin, and she’s heaving and coughing a few feet away, can’t be her. So who’s killing him? 

The answer is obvious. 

His arms cave below his weight, elbows crashing into the mud below him a last resort to keep his face from meeting the ground in an impact that will knock him out if the way his head is pounding doesn’t. 

His stomach clenches as if to purge itself, but there is nothing to purge — except for you, but you’re lodged deep in every fiber of his being. Jayce doubts there will ever be a version of him that isn’t tainted with you.

A gun cocks, the woman’s trembling figure stands behind it. Jayce knows she’ll do what the likes of you and her do. 

He takes his last sob and lets his body shake with the realization and disgusting but oh-so-sweet relief — finally. 

His end.

Out in the wild, bullet put through the head like a lame horse that’s served its purpose, spared from its pain. Spared from a pathetic excuse of an existence. 

The thought of a noose around your neck brings comfort. You’ll join him. It’s all he’d ever wanted.

Instead of pulling the fucking trigger already, she rests her hand on her pink-purple neck as if to appreciate it hasn’t snapped in half just yet. The hatred on her face fizzles out into disgusted pity.

“Please…” He’s not sure what he’s begging for.

Her hand lowers with a tremor, and she inhales a disgusting, cartilaginous-crackling breath that sounds as though it was never meant to enter her lungs. She spits her blood on the ground.

And she leaves. As the likes of you do.

—

Caitlyn,

All the weapons I’ve left behind are yours. 

Jayce considers leaving it at that — but she deserves more than just eight measly, splotchy, shakily penned words. 

He touches the tip of his fountain pen on the rim of the inkwell, and braces himself. Tries not to smear any of the blood dripping down his scratched up forearms on the immaculate paper as he writes, much neater, much prettier.

We both know there is no one standing in your way now that I’m gone. Piltover will be far better off with you protecting it. You have your head on straight — much straighter than I ever will. 

The best thing I ever did was raise my rifle to protect you. Now it’s your turn. May your bullets strike true.

There’s blood on the page. He considers starting anew. 

He won’t.

I love you.

As he folds up the piece of paper and slips it under her door, Jayce wonders if he loves you.

If he ever will again, after everything you’ve done. After everything he’s about to do.

—

To exchange a quarter for such vital information makes Jayce’s hands tremble with the absurdity of it. He presses the coins into the newspaper boy’s hand like it’s something solemn. 

Twenty-five cents to be let in on when and where your death awaits you.

The sound of the cicadas, awake before the first crack of dawn, scratches at the back of Jayce’s brain while the kid fumbles for the paper. He hands it to him with a sleepy smile and thanks him.

He has no idea what he’s just been the catalyst for.

Your infamy spares Jayce the need to manically tear through the whole thing; Caitlyn hadn't lied. You had made the front page, name spelled out in bold letters, the day and place of your hanging jotted down somewhere between a formal invitation and a taunting, final threat.

There will be little sleep to be had to reach you in time. 

—

By the time he makes it past Serpentine River, there’s talk of it already. He doesn’t even need to seek it out; stopping by a general store in one of the bigger but still humble towns down south is where he strikes gold. 

Or his possible death sentence, would be Caitlyn’s opinion. But she’s thankfully not here to talk sense into him — so he pushes the thought to the very back of his mind as he puts on a stunned face and questions the clerk like he’s asking for gossip.

The man is more than eager to indulge. 

“You’d think it’d take some ace-high hunter to bring the likes of them down, but…” he leans over the counter towards Jayce conspiratorially. “I tell you what, when I saw some twig of a kid ride into town with a dopey grin on his dumb face and them tied to the back of his mangled-lookin’ horse, I thought I was havin’ me one of them hallucinations.”

Jayce’s stopped listening to the clerk rambling on about the kid who’d apparently brought you in, and the continental suit he’d bought himself with the reward. He couldn’t care less about who’s caught you or what they look like. He needs to know where you are, and who’s going to stand in his way.

But the clerk has the mark of a good salesman, and he knows when he’s lost his customer’s interest. He’s quick to change the subject: “Can I interest you in some jerky? Now I know the look of hunger on a man’s face, and you, son—“

“And they’re in the sheriff’s office in town? Here?”

That was not the right question to ask. And especially not the right way to go about it. With a slightly wary tilt of his head, the man looks Jayce up and down, then nods.

“Heard so. Not for long, though — our boys — well, I mean, I have nothin’ but respect for our good ol’ sheriff Mallory and that nephew of his — but I sure as shit don’t sleep well knowin’ they’ve got such wretched scum to take care of.”

Jayce nods back, mustering up some solemnity with a dash of malice. “Glad to hear it. I hope they don’t cause any trouble — you’ve got a fine little town here.”

That’s convincing enough. 

The clerk laughs. “Don’t you worry your head, kid, from what I hear, they’ll be taken to the Great City next week and hanged there — for everyone to see. Now that’s a nasty death if I’ve ever heard o’ one; except for bein’ burned alive that is. I’d have me a public hangin’ over that any day, but — speaking of burnt, this bread right here may look it, but trust me—“

“No.” Jayce waves him off. “Thank you.”

—

A sheriff’s office that takes itself seriously would know to double their guards at night. 

This one is either understaffed or ruefully ignorant to the amount of horrifying friends in low places a real criminal could have.

The men who take care of the night watch at the prison in Piltover are some of the meanest-looking Markus has, and they’re never less than three. But you’ve been caught and brought into a scrappy prison in north Demacia, and they’ve bit off more than they can chew before the Great City lawmen show up to whisk you away in their proper prison. 

You always did end up getting too lucky for your own good.

Jayce walks in like he owns the place. His fingers are cold and trembling in his leather gloves.

Two lawmen, one younger and asleep in the corner of the room, the other sitting at a desk, poring over some paperwork with a cigarette hanging loosely from between his fingers. It smells less like tobacco and more like burnt herbs.

“What can we do for you?” He rasps, undoubtedly annoyed at being bothered with the interruption of his midnight cigarette. 

He flicks the ash onto the mucky floor, and clears his throat. Judging by the sound of a chair scratching the floor behind him, the other lawman — presumably his deputy — jolts awake.

The one at the desk not particularly big, and the golden star on his chest is dull with age and lack of care. The gray hairs in his mustache make him look tired not just momentarily, but permanently. Like he’s been plagued with nothing but apathy for well over a decade, like he loathes the day that awaits him tomorrow just like he dreads this very second. 

Jayce can relate.

“I’m here to find myself a bounty,” Jayce says, and consoles himself with the fact that it’s technically not a lie.

“I’d say you have better chances of doing that in the Great City than in this shithole, kid. Better money for it, too. We’re all outta cash ‘til the big boys from down south come to pick up the newest bounty we just had brought in.”

“I’m stuck here for a while,” Jayce insists. “Family matters. And I’d rather bring in a small bounty than nothing at all, sir.”

The man looks him up and down, then, with a lethargic sigh, gets up on his feet. 

“Follow me.”

That’s the first and last time he does as told. 

Jayce’s first step matches the man’s sluggish pace. The second is a stride; wide, quick, intentional. 

The momentum of his weight should have knocked the sheriff off his feet — he’s taken down bigger folks with just an aggressive shove of his shoulder — but all he does is stumble from the impact. So Jayce does the next best thing he can do: act fast. He wraps his arm around the man’s collarbone, kicks his knee in, and unholsters his gun. Presses it to his temple.

“Drop your weapons,” Jayce growls to the deputy. “Or I kill him.”

“Marshall.” The sheriff grits through his teeth, clawing at Jayce’s arm, “Marshall you fuckin’ listen to me, go get—“

A hefty thwack to the back of his head with the butt of his pistol shuts the sheriff up good.

The other lawman looks at him with eyes wide enough to see himself reflected in. Jayce doesn’t care to look too close. He might just throw up.

He steels himself with a breath. Makes sure his voice is as unyielding as his shooting arm.

“You heard me.”

And so he does. The lawman lets his pistol clatter to the ground, reluctantly takes his rifle off his back, and drops it next to his pistol with shaky hands.

“Good.” The sheriff wriggles. Jayce tightens his grip around him. “Kick them away.”

“Don’t do it!”

He does.

The sheriff’s feet take hold against the floor, he wriggles hard enough to make Jayce’s arm muscles strain. He has to end it now, before things get out of control. He has to, he has to— 

The butt of his pistol must have made a dent in his skull. The sound it makes — crackling, visceral — as it hits the back of his head sure as shit sounds like it. 

The sheriff drops back to his knees, then, without fanfare, onto his face. Unmoving.

That’s dealt with.

Jayce looks back to the other lawman, standing trembling and unmoving, one foot placed to make a run for where he’d kicked his guns away, but not daring. Wise move.

“You can get out of this alive.” Jayce points the gun at him. Thumbs the hammer back. A warning. “All you have to do is cooperate.”

The man — Marshall — raises his hands in submission.

“Get the cell keys.”

Cautiously, he approaches the unmoving body of his colleague, kneels beside it. Marshall’s shoulders sag with relief, however briefly, when he hears the sheriff breathing, before he retrieves the keys from his belt.

“Get up. Take me to the prisoners.”

“Mister, there’s law comin’ in from the Great City in two days.” The man’s voice trembles as he stumbles to his feet, Jayce follows him to the door at the back of the office, gun pointed at his head. He drops the keys as he tries to slot them into the keyhole, grabs them in sweaty hands once more, and tries again, the locked door pops open. Before he pushes forward, he turns to Jayce, and looks at him with something putrid. “They’re gonna— you won’t get away with this.”

His patience is running fucking thin. 

“I don’t remember asking you.” Jayce taps the muzzle of his gun to the back of the man’s neck. “Now come on.”

And it’s only now, that he follows him into the moldy, dark room, that his hands truly start to sweat and his heart leaps into his throat and his head goes icy, woozy, at the thought of you, here.

You’re here.

Clutching the bars of the cell so tight your knuckles are white; you must have gotten up because of the commotion. 

You look at him like he’s an angel. You look at him like he can’t be real. 

You’ve never looked at him like that.

“This— this cell.” Jayce croaks. He can’t bear looking at your face. You’re alive. You’re alright. He’s going to cry. He’s going to throw up. “Open it.”

The lawman looks at him over his shoulder, swallowing whatever dumb thing he has to say, before he turns to the lock on your cell.

“I knew it,” he grumbles, “we never should’ve accepted them. God.” The keys slip from his fingers again. Jayce figures a reminder would help, and presses his gun against his nape. 

“Move it. I’m losing my goddamn patience.”

He lets out a shaky, terrified breath, turns the key so hard his fingertips bend. It snaps open with rusty resistance, and slowly, the door to your cell creaks open.

Below the filth and bruises you’re covered in, you’re shining. Brimming with a kind of relieved, dreamy delight that would have made Jayce’s stomach do flips and knees go soft before everything. Some part of him wants to fall into your arms and lick at your lips until they’re raw. Another part of him has his trigger finger itching. He hopes neither part wins.

You open your mouth to say something. Jayce can’t bear the thought of hearing it, hearing you, not now, not yet—

“Wait by the door,” he interrupts. “And get your things.”

Well, what’s left of them. 

You comply without another word, hurrying to a cabinet beside the door, where you start digging through the drawers frantically.

He turns to the deputy.

“Into the cell,” Jayce commands, and makes sure to walk him to the very back of it, just in case. “On your knees.”

“Please don’t kill me—“

“Hands behind your back.”

Shakily, the man complies. Jayce bends down to hold his wrists together, and starts winding some of the rope hanging off his belt around them, nice and sturdy.

A door behind him creaks open.

“Jayce—!”

Your voice shakes him like nails on a chalkboard. Scratches at something angry and brutal in the very center of his brain, at something that doesn’t think. Something that acts.

Jayce shoots.

He hadn’t stopped to notice who it was, arm wrapped around your throat from behind and holding you close enough to be a human shield.

He hadn’t stopped to think how easily he could put a bullet through your head instead of whatever target he’d locked onto. He’d just pressed the trigger.

His bullet strikes true.

Head flying back with the impact of the lead cutting through his brain, the sheriff drops like a stringless puppet behind you. His brains splatter the wall just beside the door.

You cower, clutching your head as though you died with your attacker. You look at Jayce, meek and trembling and utterly terrified, like you fully expect him to put lead through your skull next.

He opens his mouth to say something. 

A weight collides with him before he does, knocks him onto the concrete floor with a nasty impact.

“You piece of fucking shit!” The deputy’s fist crushes his nose so hard his ears ring. The back of his head slams against the floor. 

The edge of his vision pulses, the high shrill in his ears nearly drowns out the noise of the lawman’s growl. 

“M’gonna kill you.” He mutters. “Gonna fuckin’ kill you, bastard!”

The man’s hands are at his belt, groping for a weapon, wrapping around the handle at Jayce’s left hip.

His knife. 

Jayce attempts a tried and true kick to get the man off of him, but his weight won’t budge. He should have budged, he would have, before everything. Before Jayce had spent his days wishing he was dead and eating only when the bottom of his throat burned with acid and moved only when his muscles ached from laying down. 

Before you’d made him as weak physically as he’d always been within.

But he can’t, he can’t, and this is how Jayce is going to die.

He tries a desperate right hook and hopes it will hit something.

And it does.

His arm stops mid-swing, but not because his fist has met a target.

Something in his forearm pulls, pulls at skin, pulls at muscle, pulls at nerves. He opens his eyes, tries to see, tries to see — sees red. Pain, shooting all the way up to his shoulder and down to his pinky, everything in his precious shooting arm screams.

The knife. Lodged inside his forearm.

Your voice.

“I’m gonna paint the fuckin’ floor with your goddamn brains.”  

The next thing he knows, the lawman’s weight is hauled off of him. Something rings as loud as a church bell on Sunday noon. Once. The lawman tries to scream, but only manages a moist, bloody, nasal snarl. Then that grueling sound rings out once more, a metallic resonance. Again. And again.

Blang. Blang. Blang.

Two blurred moving shadows finally fall into one coherent image as Jayce’s eyes refocus — and he’d give anything to hit his head again hard enough to make sure they don’t. 

You’ve grabbed the lawman like a mangy mutt, fingers digging into the back of his scalp. And you’re slamming his face into the prison cell bars with the relentlessness of someone who does this often. Does this easily.

“Fuckin’ filth is all you was.” You grit out. Blang. “All you’ll ever be.”

You ram his skull into the bars until the last bit of his resistance seeps from his body. With a heaving chest, you retreat to let his corpse slide down bloodied steel onto the floor. You brace yourself against the bars, then bring your foot into one last, thorough kick against the back of his head. There is no doubt about it being a killing blow.

“(L/n).”

Jayce flinches at the sound of your name, not coming from himself. A man in another cell, a fellow prisoner he hadn’t even noticed, holds his hand out between the bars of his own cell.

“Gimme the keys. Get me outta here, please.”

You bend down for the lawman’s gun. Put a bullet in the chamber, then turn to the prisoner.

“No,” the prisoner cries, “I won’t tell a soul, I swear! Not a goddamned soul, please don’t do this, please, please, please—!”

“Sorry.” You thumb down the hammer. “I can’t take that chance.”

[thanathicca]

Pathologic Fest Day 1: From the Other Side

Are AUs allowed on @pathologicfest ? Regardless, we are submitting an illustration of our 22nd century Thanatica AU, "imperare sibi maximum imperium est", anyway (ft. transfem Haruspex) :)

Image description is in alt text. News writing, as well as no text versions of the art, are under the cut.

The text:

(note, the fic itself may or may not have this version of the news - we will definitely edit it later)

Is this the end for Thanatica Labs?

THE CAPITAL, 1 OCTOBER 2165

Daniil Dankovsky, founder of Thanatica Laboratories and lead scientist of the first successful mind-uploading device AVA Project, has once again declined an offer of cooperation from a multinational company. The cooperation deal by Vector Tech, which would have netted Dankovsky a record XXX billion, would have Thanatica Labs give away their exclusive rights to the AVA blueprints and let the company build new AVA units with a tiered subscription program.

"We regret that the deal couldn’t be done," Mr. Telman, CEO of Vector Tech, has gone on record to say. "It’s a shame that Thanatica hoards all their progress under Dankovsky’s influence. Our company would have brought your AVA to the whole world! What kind of scientist are you?"

When requested for an interview, Dr. Dankovsky responded, “Thanatica has, and will always, stand with ethical practices. We are scientists who would not gate one’s life behind paywalls. The deal would have made a version of AVA with proprietary Vector Tech operating system, which has gone on record to sell people’s data to third parties, including intelligence agencies. Would you want data submitted the AVA, which would contain your most vulnerable memories, to be sold to the highest bidder? Would you want targeted advertisements in your brain? Moreover, the deal also mentioned using the subscription programs to access certain memories or even brain functions, which meant you could randomly forget the most important moments in your life, or even forget how to solve a crossword, just because you are a little short on money.”

Vector Tech has not responded to an interview request.

.

Plague “Panacea” safety put into question

While the so-called “panacea” for the plague has been lab-tested for human consumption with 100% efficacy, the contents has so far eluded researchers. A scientist of Thanatica Laboratories has been suspected to be its discoverer.

.

Thanatica founder indicted after siege

THE CAPITAL, 2166

A nation-wide warrant has been released for Thanatica Laboratories founder Daniil Dankovsky, 30, who is wanted by our Nation for unethical experimentation, medical negligence, and leaking classified documents from both governmental bodies and private companies.

Dankovsky has fled his laboratory in the Capital alongside his employees after the month-long siege of Thanatica, where he has been requested to reveal the contents of the so-called “panacea” of the plague. The creators of the “panacea” is also wanted for medical fraud and negligence, as well as rejecting government mandate to explain themselves in court, the Ministry of Health, and Ministry of Research and Development.

[garnetsandroses]

my vic and amy powerswap au concepts! they make guest appearances in a fic of mine that's still in the plotting stage. power/design/alt-trigger details below :>

(warning for talk about canon-typical violence and the dallon-pelham torment nexus)

amy/fusillade: flight, forcefield, projectile mini bombs that look like sparks (bud from mark). when her forcefield blocks hits, it lights up, emulating carol's breaker state. she isn't immune to her own bombs; they can disrupt her forcefield if she's not careful.

-i wanted her to have a kinda boring costume that fit new wave's aesthetics without going outside of the box too much -she triggered pretty young at ~12, so her style hadn't developed and she's not confident enough to ask for a redesign now -white; accent color is a muted red -cape is asymmetrical to reference glory girl's -name starts with f to match w/ flashbang

she triggered when she was hiding in the other room while her parents had an argument. both were worried about the future of new wave, and carol in particular said some nasty things about amy not belonging in the family. mark got angry enough to use his power unconsciously, the blast from the grenade scaring amy on the other side of the wall. it knocked over a photo of the dallons (taken before they had adopted amy), and seeing that last image of the perfect family she was never going to fit into finally pushed her over the edge.

straightforwardly, this contributes to her powers being a mash of her parents with flight thrown in bc i love me a good mover aspect to a trigger. just wants to belong -> emulates the best and brightest aspects of her family. additionally, i think that mark was most parental and present when amy and vic were at this preteen age (based on what he's mentioned doing for them like cooking breakfast), so that contributes to his larger influence on amy's powers.

---

victoria/salva: touch-based biokinetic powers w/ focus on enhancing people’s abilities and creating augments for self (aegis+hookwolf ping). minor brute abilities like enhanced strength, stamina but not notably above that of a very fit, trained young adult.

-cute nurse's outfit that allows for lots of movement. someone said it looks magical girlesque and i think that's just bc i've designed magical girls since 6th grade

-simple white and bright red w/ same half-circles on coat (as seen on my panacea design) to mimic the coils of a caduceus

-utility details: hat has elastic band to stay on head, satchel is insulated so she can theoretically keep biomass in there, jacket is easily removable so her sleeves won't get nasty

-really hard to see but her bag has keychains: a pom-pom, official prt merch of gallant, new wave merch of fusillade's red star emblem

-salva is my attempt to be punny by combining "salve" + "salvo" (the rapid attack/round of applause meanings) + a feminine ending to mimic the "girl" in "glory girl"

triggered around a year after amy (reversing the canon situation) when the latter went on a patrol with the wards, vic tagging along just to see what crimefighting was like. vic had been stewing over being left behind due to not getting powers, but that subliminal jealousy was resolved in the worst way. hookwolf tore into the wards patrol, aegis and amy being the worst off. vic ran forward into the fray to try and save amy while the others retreated, asking herself questions like "why can't i do anything to help," "why can't i be strong enough to do something," etc. it was finally when she laid her hands on amy, red connecting the two of them, that she asked the real question "why can't i have powers too?" and triggered.

active-combat aspect with self-buffing brutes wandering around -> power has limited effect on herself. not only could she heal amy and pump her full of enhancements like adrenaline and natural-brewed steroids, but vic could take the biomass strewn around and graft it to herself, augmenting her abilities slightly. just like in canon where both sisters have yet to realize full control of their powers, salva hasn't started walking around in a biomecha meatsuit yet, but that could theoretically work for her. if she didn't care about not getting put on a watchlist, ofc

[hwaightme]

☆*:.masterlist.:*☆

Welcome to my masterlist! I try to update it asap, but lmk if I miss something! If you prefer ao3, click here. masterlist below the cut.

NETWORKS: @k-labels @kflixnet

DISCLAIMER:

Work with mature themes, NSFW, 18+ or triggering content SHOULD NOT BE INTERACTED WITH BY MINORS. If you see tags related to such themes and are a minor or do not feel comfortable, DNI!

These works are fictional and for entertainment purposes ONLY, and do not reflect the people mentioned in them as individuals. I am in no way associated with them, nor am I claiming to know them.

All moodboards have been created by me, but the credit for images included goes to their rightful owners. If you wish to use the moodboard, ask for permission and CREDIT ME. Reposting is not allowed.

Unless otherwise stated, all work and content is the intellectual property of hwaightme. DO NOT REPOST ON TUMBLR OR OTHER SITES and DO NOT TRANSLATE.

copyright © hwaightme 2022-4 | all rights reserved

[f] fluff || [s] smut || [a] angst || [sugg] suggestive || [tw] trigger warnings ||

[misc] miscellaneous || [hc] headcanons

ot8 series and headcanons

your fan, _____ [f] [sugg] - series with separate ml bf!ateez when you are working from home [f] [s] ateez as signs of love (relationship hcs) [f]

kim hongjoong

the chemistry of christmas [f] [sugg] (ao3) motivate me [s] (ao3) rewind and remix [a] a little bit of [f] avaritia [s] feverish [f] [misc] in the rain [f] hand hug [f]

park seonghwa

after hours on christmas eve [f] (ao3) feels like home (part 1) (part 2) [f] [sugg] [a]  (ao3) family for hire (series - separate ml) [f] [sugg] [misc] long exposure [s] [a] [misc] ft. wooyoung in memoriam [a] [s] bang bang [s] [misc] -> mafia!au love was spring [f] [slight a] making wishes [s] [f] ft. wooyoung this world [f] [s] [misc] -> biker!au take me back [s] [f] [slight a] -> biker!au cat named mars [f] [hc] -> catboy!hwa bonnie on the side [s] [a] essence [f] timezone [f] [slight a] page me [f] [festive fic!] impressionism [f] [misc] with you [f] [misc] [a] both [s] [f] feel alive [f] [a] [misc] panacea [f] [misc] dawn [s] [misc] my star [f] i will wait [f] lone soul [f] [misc] 03:10 AM [f] [timestamp]

jeong yunho

come fly with me [f] [slight a] [misc] all of me [f] the meaning of 'jeong' [f] [a] [misc] like the cherry blossom falls [f] guy.exe [f]

kang yeosang:

curiosity [tw] [misc] sangshine [f] [misc]

song mingi:

use me [s] [a] (ao3) use me part 2 [s] [a] [f] one new message [a] burning [f] [misc]

choi san:

wilting to bloom [a] safe and san [s] [f] golden hour [s] [f]

jung wooyoung:

grilled cheese philosophy [a] [tw] [misc] long exposure [s] [a] [misc] ft. seonghwa making wishes [s] [f] ft. seonghwa

choi jongho:

cliche [f]

[archon-maenad]

after reading your cultist simulator I gotta ask have you heard of/read Russian Caravan? it's worm/eldritch stuff from like 4 different things stitched together into something original. it's worldbuilding for Bet and the way it handles the eldritch stuff makes me think you'll apreciate it.

it is one of the best fics I have ever beheld. it is amazing. it is terrifying. it is so mentally and emotionally intensive to read without skimming that I haven't finished it yet. it is an exemplar of crossover worldbuilding. it is a fic I cannot recommend without a slew of disclaimers regarding gore and existential nightmares.

the interludes from armsmaster and panacea's perspectives were genuinely fucking masterpieces of horror to me, the kind that comes from lurking implications and normalization of the awful and lore sharp enough to cut yourself on. it scared me off the fic for a week. I love it.

[coffeeheartaddict2]

When life has other plans (2/16)

Deal with the devil

Characters: Ethan Ramsey, Casey Valentine.

Word count: 2575

Category: Smut

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: sexual content, language

Summary: The competition continues and Casey keeps Ethan’s secret. Casey takes over the top spot and earns a trip to Miami but all is not as it seems.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Authors note: How I love writing Miami and how I love adding into an AU where things can be different. Enjoy another smutty Miami fic.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

The competition was still running and Casey was on the improve. So much so that she found herself with some more difficult cases and just as difficult patients. She wanted to confront Ethan about one but she had not spoken to him outside of assisting him secretly with Naveen and if Casey was being honest, she felt that a showdown would be more to do with the kiss they had shared and she did not want that to be hospital gossip. So she persisted, copped the patient's criticisms. She was exhausted that even Kyra, her patient now friend, had become concerned. She was taken to a local ice cream parlour. She had the death by chocolate and it was delicious. Casey appreciated the break. Kyra then stated there must be twelve things wrong with you if you turn down ice cream. That switched a lightbulb and Casey’s brain. There was multiple things wrong with the patient. He was not happy as he was told he would be having surgery then to Casey’s surprise the patient got a dressing down from Ethan. When he was gone Ethan came upto her.

“Congratulations on solving the case, there is plenty to learn from all patients, not just the pleasant and easy ones. That is why I assigned him to you.”

Ethan did not want to tell her because he had been accused by Harper, no less that he was showing favouritism towards Casey. He did not appreciate the insinuation and there was no telling her otherwise. Casey thanked Ethan for the feedback and continued on with her day.

The Medical Symposium was fast approaching. With how bad Naveen was, he was reluctant to go but he was frustrated with the lack of progress from dealing with the research and development department of Panacea. They had been doing some research into treatments for Sepsis and he wanted more than anything for more information so he could try the treatments on Naveen. He had no response and this now meant drastic measures, and that was to deal with an individual he would rather not deal with in Declan Nash but now it appeared that his hand was to be forced. Casey was certainly the most improved intern but her well earnt rise to top position thankfully coincided with the Symposium. He needed Casey there, he knew that taking her would raise several eye brows, some of the lower ranked interns had speculated if she is getting special treatment among other things, they were wrong of course, it was senior resident and other attending feedback that influenced the rankings, he only collated the data and posted the final results. Ranking release day came, and all the interns were abuzz with the news that Aurora Emery was not in top spot. He announced at morning announcements that he would be taking her to the symposium. Harper was stunned, he stated that it would be a good opportunity for Casey to get valuable insight to the industry. Harper did agree but she was skeptical. She had seen Dr Valentine and Dr Ramsey together often in conversation. She had seen an arm squeeze which looked more than congratulatory but Ethan had said to her that he was not playing favourites and she chose to believe him.

Meanwhile, Landry was fuming. He presumed that Aurora was on top spot as there would be people wanting to be on Harper’s good side but he could not believe Casey was on top. Sure she had a good solve rate but to him, the cases seemed lackluster. He had also seen Dr Ramsey conversing with Casey numerous times, especially late at night. He was convinced that her being top of the rankings was because she was sleeping with him. He knew that some of the lowly ranked interns suspected something was afoot but rumour was clearly not enough, he needed to sabotage her but how to do so and to get away with it, well that was going to provide extra planning.

The next day came and Casey made her way to Logan Airport. She just made it in time. They board, and settle down into first class. It was a pleasant flight, they mainly discuss Casey’s career ambitions. They arrive at the hotel and Casey is sent to check them in. Needless to say Casey was mortified that they were to be sharing a room, with it being a conference she knew there was no chance that it would be able to be changed. Casey advises Ethan and he is annoyed. They make their way up to the room, discussing who will be taking the couch.

They make their way down to the floor and Casey is blown away by all the innovation at first then realized that it will be swallowed up by the profit driven agenda of the very broken system that they work within. They wander the floor then they find themselves at the Panacea booth. Casey could sense Ethan’s apprehension and annoyance.

“That is Declan Nash.” He said “Panacea have been doing research into sepsis treatments and he had contacted the research department but was getting nowhere but I do not want to deal with Declan. He has had it out for me since I punched him at another conference.”

Casey is stunned.

“Am I truly on top this week Ethan or did you doctor the rankings so I was on top?”

Ethan was annoyed at the insinuation but could see how it looked.

“You being on top is genuine, even if you were not you certainly have been the most improved so I would have found a way to bring you regardless,” stated Ethan, “ This research could really help Naveen, I need to know more.”

“Ok,” says Casey as she places a hand on his arm. “I will try to get the information, for Naveen’s sake.”

Ethan nodded. Casey made her way to where Declan was gloating and waited to make her self known. He started talking about the research into immune responses. Casey segued her way into the spiel, by lying about her position and wanting to know what the laboratory that she worked for needed to be kept abreast of. Declan however, saw through her ruse, yes there has been an interest in some of our research by a doctor of some repute, Hello Ethan, since when do you let your latest follower do your dirty work?”

Ethan was furious, this was his only hope to get the information and it was being held hostage by this man’s ego. He wanted to punch him again but left, Casey followed, apologizing for not being able to get the information.

“It is not your fault rookie, he has been humiliated by me before and holds a grudge. There is not much I can do except drown my sorrows at the conference gala.” They arrived back at the room to get ready. Ethan went to shower while Casey got changed. She was thankful that she had brought this gown. It was midnight blue, strapless and hugged all the right curves. Perfect for a gala. Casey was admiring herself in the mirror when Ethan came out of the shower.

All the thoughts of impropriety went through his head, how he did not act right then and there he does not know.

“You look… hmm… appropriate.” Said Ethan, struggling to find words that described how Casey looked but would not show how lustful his thoughts were.

Casey chuckled. “You should have been a poet, Dr Ramsey.”

Ethan blushes and gets ready in the dressing room.

They head down together, Casey wishing that he did not look so god damn handsome and absolutely fuckable in a tuxedo. They separate after the first glass of champagne. They both wander and Casey finds herself at the poker tables. Declan Nash is there. Casey decides then and there to make a play for the information. She joins the game. Declan is surprised she is playing, he makes a quip about not being able to afford it. Casey ignores him and they play. Casey wins the first hand. This gives her some confidence so she starts to lay down some terms to get the information that she was unable to get earlier.

“And what if I win?” Asked Declan, eyeing the curves of her dress. “You are an intern, what possible thing could you have to offer, although, I am sure you would be willing to do whatever it takes…”

Just then Ethan walks by. He is pleased to see Casey using her initiative but then he hears the intention laced way he was speaking. His blood began to boil. He knew that Casey was a grown woman and was more than able to make her own decisions about her body, he certainly did not own her but the thought of Declan Nash wanting to touch her in that way was infuriating to put mildly. He wanted to punch him again but managed to contain that urge. In that moment he knew that drastic times called for drastic measures.

“How about I give you what you always wanted, using the team as a vehicle to identify people for drug trials.” Said Ethan.

Declan was very interested all of a sudden. He had been trying for ages to get into Edenbrook but had been blocked many times, mainly by Naveen and Ethan.

“You are on, Dr Ramsey.”

Ethan sits where Casey is. The game is close and finally it was time to reveal his cards. Casey could see that Ethan was torn for a split second before he said that he folds. Declan looked so smug because he won. Declan came over to thank him for the game and gave him the information he so desperately wanted. Ethan was astounded at how easily he gave it then Declan said, “Consider it a sign of good faith going forward.” As he walked away.

“Thanks for the save Ethan but why do the deal with Panacea, I know how hard you have worked to keep them out.”

“If there is a way to keep them out there will be one.” Said Ethan as he stands up to go to the bar. Casey comes with him. They both get a drink. Ethan takes a sip, and looks at Casey and how stunning she looks. “In all honesty, the thought of him with you was infuriating. I know you are capable of making your own decisions, as am I.”

He leans in and kisses her hungrily.

“Ethan” says Casey breathlessly before returning the kiss. They decide to then go to their room. Once they are in the lift he kissed her again, running her hands along her curves. “Fuck you are gorgeous” he whispers in her ear as he kisses down her neck. They make their way to the hotel room. They enter and he guides Casey to the door. He kisses her again and hoists her around her waist. He runs his hands up her thighs to her centre and she is drenched. Casey moans as she undoes his belt and let’s his penis free. Ethan is impatient and he enters her.

“Fuck Ethan” moans Casey as he sets an arduous pace from the get to.

“You’re so fucking tight” says Ethan. He goes harder and Casey moans. It does not take him long to get close but Casey is close also. He hungrily kisses her again and thrusts in hard. He comes hard and it triggers Casey’s climax. He gently eases Casey down and they make their way to the bed. He unzips her dress and she disrobes him fully.

“Gosh you are beautiful” he says huskily, “let me enjoy all of you.” He kisses her again. Casey lays down on the bed and Ethan lays down on top of her. He kisses her gently on the mouth then he kissed her neck and starts to massage her left breast. He can feel how fast her heart is beating. He squeezes her breast before starting to kiss her breasts. He continued down her body to her glistening centre. He runs his tongue around her clit, causing Casey to shudder and moan. He teases her clit before running his tongue through her folds and entering her, causing Casey to arch her hips up off the bed. Ethan can not believe how sweet she tastes. He then goes back to pay attention to her clit. He grasps her waist, holding her to the mattress and his tongue enters her again. Casey wants to arch again but she can not and it arouses her more. She feels close again and Ethan knows it to. He goes harder and Casey again comes, he laps her up as she comes down from her high. He comes up and kisses her, she can taste herself on him and it is intoxicating. She rolls Ethan over so that she is on top. She runs her centre along his throbbing length. He hisses in anticipation. Casey then slowly eases her way down. When Ethan is fully sheathed in her once again she starts to rock her hips. Ethan groans and Casey speeds up. He hits the spot with even more vigour from when he had her against the door. He starts to massage both her breasts, gently pinching the nipples, causing Casey to moan. They go faster and faster and Casey is close, she clenches him, harder and harder until at last she succumbs to her climax screaming. Ethan grunts as he empties himself inside her. She eases herself off and lays down in his arms.

“WOW….just wow” says Casey.

“Indeed,” said Ethan, “definitely a good way of celebrating of getting the information to treat Naveen.”

Casey nods. “It will be great if the treatment works but is a celebration all this is?”

“No, I never could use you for a one night stand but a relationship will have its own complications.”

“I know but if I drop out of the competition now, it will only fuel the rumours, some of the lower ranked participants already think I am sleeping with you.”

“Well the mill would be now correct but it will not affect the rankings.”

“So what do we do?”

“I do not want to treat you like a dirty little secret, but being open and your standing…”

“How about an arrangement? Not a relationship in a strict sense but you are not having to keep it secret.”

“It would take pressure off and I see you outside of work enough already.”

“Precisely, so an arrangement then?” Asks Casey.

Ethan kisses her deeply. “Shall we partake in the arrangement?” He asks before kissing her again.

“Most definitely” whispers Casey before being kissed again.

They enjoy the rest of the conference. Hopeful of an improvement and maybe a breakthrough with Naveen and more importantly a clear sense of where they stood with each other.

Meanwhile, in the halls of Edenbrook, Landry was looking at the pager system. He found Casey’s and noted that she had hers currently switched off but was due to be switched back on automatically at 6.00am on the Monday, two hours before her shift started. Landry turned the auto switch off, leaving Casey off in the system.

“Let’s see you keep top spot with no one able to page you” he said under his breath with a slight chuckle. He then continued with his rounds

————-

Authors note: some of my changes also involve Landry and the locker scene where he is confronted. He always felt that Casey benefitted from some type of favouritism however I do not put it past him to have assumed that MC was sleeping with Ethan.

Tagging: @jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @genevievemd @potionsprefect @liaromancewriter @cariantha @tessa-liam @zealouscanonindeer @alj4890 @trappedinfanfiction @youlookappropriate @bex-la-get @crazy-loca-blog @a-crepusculo @socalwriterbee @binny1985 @schnitzelbutterfingers

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

If there is anyone I missed or you wish to be added please let me know, this goes for removal also

[peachytea04]

WIP Tag/Ask Game

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

———————————————————————

Okay!! Hello again!! Thank you to @immortalmint for the tag on this game! As it stands, I have a good few WIPs and not a ton of titles for them, but I’ll present what I can!

In Duty and in Heart (The Owl House)

Cardinals in Winter, Flowers in the Spring (The Owl House)

Panacea (The Owl House)

Palistrom AU (The Owl House) (Note: this is a fic based off an AU by @chaoticnebu , and while I am FAR from done with it, you should definitely go look at their art :DDD)

Chorus (The Legend of Zelda)

You can certainly tell where my interests lie 😅

Anyway!! As for tags; I’ve listed 5 wips, so that’s 5 people. @avatarmerida @avariantflaire @angelcloves @fairytales-and-folklore @lollytea

Bonne nuit :DDD

[starlightvld]

Fan Fiction Master Post

Fandom - Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationship - Sheith (Shiro x Keith)

In Sunshine and in Shadow Post-canon fix-it * Rated M * 155k words * COMPLETE After ten years of distance, a chance encounter brings Shiro, Keith, and the other paladins together in another fight to save the universe.

Truth Beyond Reckoning Post-canon fix-it (ISAIS stand-alone interlude) * Rated E * 3.6k words * COMPLETE After twelve years of illness, heartache, and missed chances, Keith and Shiro finally find their way back to one another.

Formalities Post-canon fix-it * Rated T * 17.7k words * COMPLETE At the Coalition's two-year anniversary formal gala, Lance gets ideas, Keith gets a new outfit, and Shiro gets jealous enough to break a few of his self-imposed rules.

Second Luckiest Established Relationship * Rated G * 524 words * COMPLETE A soft and short fic in which Keith and Shiro take care of each other.

Research & Development Modern(ish) AU * Rated E * 57.7k words * COMPLETE When Voltron Tech CEO Shiro hires Marmora Construction to build their new research and development building, he doesn't realize how much his life is about to change... until Keith walks through the door. 

Trading Pain for Panacea Post canon, no epilogue * Rated T * 3.7k words * COMPLETE Shiro gets sick, muses over his relationship with pain, and comes to some realizations. As always, Keith is there to take care of him.

Trading Loneliness for Love Post canon, no epilogue * Rated T * 6.9k words * COMPLETE Keith is pulled through a wormhole to who-knows-where. As he drifts through space alone, he muses over his relationship with loneliness while waiting for his friends to come to the rescue.

My Love is Like an Apple Pie University Staff AU * Rated T * 27k words * COMPLETE Keith and Shiro are living good lives with good jobs and friends, but maybe a little romance will make things even better. A fun and fluffy fall fic.

Red and Sliver Post canon, ISAIS AU * Rated E * 12.5k words * COMPLETE Keith goes missing on an undercover mission. Faced with his possible death, Shiro vows to bring Keith home... and finally come clean about how he really feels.

The Fire Between Falling Stars King & Knight AU * Rated E * IN PROGRESS For seven years, Keith has quietly served and protected King Takashi Shirogane of Stellan from afar, but when Keith's friends disappear, he is forced out of the shadows. As Keith's investigations lead him toward the truth - and the disaster to come - he will be forced to decide: Protect his secrets. Or protect his king.

Intertwined Price and Blacksmith AU * Rated T * 1.8k words * COMPLETE When tragedy breaks down the barriers between a prince and a commoner, Keith and Shiro forge a partnership — and a love — built to stand the test of time.

A reality better than any dream Post Canon fix-it, new relationship * Rated E * 2.5k words * COMPLETE Shiro and Keith talk about their new relationship, deal with some of Shiro's concerns about his missing memories, and take their relationship to the next level.

Fandom - Call of Duty: Modern Warfare (reboot)

Relationship: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley (alternately: soapghost, ghostsoap, ghoap)

Couch Surfing Post-canon, not MWIII compliant * Rated E * 53k words * COMPLETE When military politics threaten to break up the 141, Simon and Johnny must decide to hold on to what they already have... or risk losing it all for the possibility of *more.*

Broken Bones and Shattered Hearts Post-canon, not MWIII compliant * Rated E * IN PROGRESS Fic/Art collaboration with @kibagib After Johnny's career-ending mission against Makarov, Simon left and broke Johnny's heart. When they're thrown together three years later at Gaz's wedding, it sets off a chain of events that will change both their lives forever. For better or worse.

Up in Smoke MW II, pre MWIII * Rated T * 1.8k words * COMPLETE A 5+1 style, hurt/comfort, getting together fic with a healthy helping of humor in which Ghost annoys Johnny by stealing his cigarettes. He's got his reasons.

You're my mask, you're my cover, my shelter Punisher AU * Rated E * IN PROGRESS (chapters 1 & 2 posted) Fic/Art collaboration with @kibagib When MI5 officer MacTavish partners with the vigilante Ghost, they uncover a vast web of betrayal. Learning to trust each other might be the only way to bring down the enemy. Learning to love each other might be the only way to stay alive.

Always on Your Six Whump/Crack Treated Seriously * Rated E * 29k words * COMPLETE It's been six months since the team started pushing Soap away. After months of trying to get back in their good graces, he's done with the 141. But as Soap should know better than most, things aren't always how they appear.

Bait & Switch Makarov Steals Soap, MWIII fix-it AU * Rated M * IN PROGRESS The 141 knows Soap died in a tunnel under the English Channel. But what if he didn't?

Faking It Slice of Life * Rated T * 782 words * COMPLETE Ghost likes to scare his teammates with his stealth abilities, and no one gives him a better reaction that Soap. But is Soap just faking it?

Trustfall Space AU * Rated M * 6.5k words * COMPLETE Ghost and Price search a burnt out ship for Price's protege and potential new task force member. Ghost gets a little more than he bargained for in one Soap MacTavish.

Of Death and Fate Reincarnation AU * Rated T * 2.8k words * COMPLETE Ghost makes a deal with a mysterious entity to relive his life with Soap until they can get it right. It... takes a while.

[openheartfanfics]

Newly Added Fics

Jan 28 - Feb 3, 2023  

🎭 Angst  |  🦚 Angsty Fluff  |  🛸 AU  |  ☁ Fluff  |  ♥ NSFW  |  📚 Series  |  📷 Edit  |  📱 TextFic  |  Ⓜ Mature

ETHAN X F!MC

A Conversation With His Father - @genevievemd ☁

While visiting his father, Ethan comes to a realization. Feat. Alan Ramsey [In Love]

A Strong Affection - @jamespotterthefirst ☁

They run into each other at the park where she gets to meet the thing he loves the most in the world: his dog Jenner.

Love, Slitheens And Klingon - @inlocusmads ☁

Ethan gives Jane a Valentine's Day card that is so feverishly extraordinary.

Promise - @amortentiaopenheart 🎭

Catherine finds that life can be unexpected. TW: Major Character Death [Traumatic Event]

Return to Dagger Mountain - @liaromancewriter 🦚

Cassie whisks Ethan off for a romantic weekend, much to his discomfort and surprise. [Vacation; Ethan POV]

Sin City - @coffeeheartaddict2 ♥

The gang, plus Ethan and Tobias are in Vegas for a combined Bachelor/bachelorette party and Ethan is determined to ruin his fiancé in the best way possible. Feat. Tobias Carrick, OH Gang [Vegas]

Sweet Celebrations - @liaromancewriter 📱📷

Cassie goes all in when it comes to recognizing small moments.

Then and Now - @potionsprefect ☁

Past and present aren’t totally different.

Two of a Kind - @amortentiaopenheart 📚🛸  

[extended: complete] Ethan gets sent to AIIMS (med school in Delhi, India) for a conference.  

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

What Happened in Vegas - @jerzwriter  📚🛸

[extended: wip] Casey & her roommates are heading to Vegas, intent on taking down Declan Nash and Panacea; but this time, Dr. Ethan Ramsey is in tow.

CH 5: ...And That’s a Promise

What She Did In Vegas... - @peonyblossom 🦚Ⓜ

As soon as Sadie gets home from her trip to Las Vegas with the roomies, she feels compelled to ask Ethan about their relationship becoming exclusive. [Vegas; Define Relationship]

ETHAN X M!MC

Cat Scratch - @peonyblossom ☁

When Sydney gets bitten during cat bath time, Ethan takes it upon himself to take care of the wound. [Hurt/Comfort]

TOBIAS X F!MC

Dance It Better - @jerzwriter ☁

An over-tired Casey storms into Tobias's office quite cross, but she leaves with a bright new perspective.

The Very Best View - @jerzwriter 📷

Just a little fun with the OH gang participating in an Instagram challenge to post a photo of the best view they've ever seen. Feat. OPH Gang [Travel]

_

SUBMIT OPEN HEART FICS & WRITERS HERE

[puppywritesthings]

hello there batman it is i the riddler i am here to have you answer my devilish qna questions three

question the first: what fic of yours is your favourite ?

question the second: which of your own fics do you think are underrated ?

question the third: what fics from other authors are your favourites ?

question the fourth: what fics from other authors do you think are underrated ?

that is all. goodnight

hello riddler, i shall now answer these.

This may just be because of recency bias, but Chained to the Rhythm has to be my favorite. I put so much work into it and spent so much time... It's like my baby. All of my fics are too, but still.

Taking Advantage of the Moment is also up there. It's the first fic that I submitted to AQ. Well, the first fic I think that's legitimately good. It's got Max, so that's a selling point in of itself. 100% will recommend IGN.

2. Underrated fics... I *could* say anything before my s14 era, but also my Sashea duology is good shit. Also "My Love, Take Care of Yourself"

3. Favorite fics from other authors... The list is longer, but I can only write so much, y'know y'know?

What Baking Can Do by @buffyathena - cute, fluffy rosenali with cooking as a love language.

Our Brains Can't Change From Hand Grenades by @theredrugirl [the fact that this fic isn't on AO3 isn't a crime but it's been living rent free in my head since i read it] - a pearlet girl, interrupted AU. it's four parts long and it got me interested in seeing the movie. fair warning, it gets ready. read the content warnings.

Where Every Wish Comes True by @plegdoctor (and also her Bagpuss fic. Both of them)

If you want one of the classic fics™, then Tree House Kisses by @veronicasanders

4. Underrated fic from other authors...

I'm Not Here to Make Friends (But I Think I Did Anyway) by @hannahlovesdance07 - i'm not saying this because it's got irene, but maybe i ammmm /lh

panacea by @winterboxx

Somewhere In The Crowd There's You by @missjanjie

(sasha velour voice) i have more of these, but i also don't want to take forever.

[susspirria]

WIP

Thanks for the tag, @diddle-riddle

WIP GAME

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

Riddlebat abo predatorprey marriage hunt fic

Riddlebat hannibal au kind of

Riddlebat abo personal assistant au

riddlebat abo camboy au

riddlebat abo edward baby traps bruce

riddlebat hs au forcefem bullying

riddlebat abo hs courtship

riddlebat how to disappear completely

riddlebat abo bruce keeps edward hostage at wayne tower

riddlebat panacea

riddlebat abo darkfic

riddlebat lolita au

riddlebat bruce obsessed with edward au

Notes: kind of in riddlebat hell if it wasn't obvious, so all my current wips are centered around them. I did include the WIPs i've posted chapters of because they're still very much in the process of being written chapter-by-chapter.

tagging a couple of authors i like who are mutuals if you want to do this, no worries if not tho: @weebstr @morteamore @sodacoated @hitsuzenhusbands @maedhros36

[akirameta84]

i need to write more often and i WANT to, just because i like writing and not only because i update so horrifically slowly, but just. cant. i also dont want to

i have the entire next chaptets for all of my longfics partially planned, with the key/funniest moments being all my brain wants to focus on which makes writing everything else. tricky

so im gonna see if sharing a brief tidbit about each upcoming chapter will help partially because its out and shared and so i can work on getting everything else out and shared

under the cut cause unless you read my fics theres no point in a teaser about the next chapter lmfao

mild spoiler warning actually because this is just the very basic plot of the next chapter of all of my longfics so if you reasonably dont want to know the rundown ahead of time avoid this. things are subject to change, be removed, or be added to, and this is certainly not all of the chapters, there will be more details and moments and scenes aside from the main plotline but still, a fair warning.

Lorum Ipsum: the snake scene from canon changed for this au. saiki never goes to the bathroom and is the one who directly intervenes, jumping in front of kaidou after kaidou jumped in front of that girl. not because he gives a shit about kaidou, though. he sneaks the snake corpse into his bag and eats it at lunch. my brain has yet to determine if someone witnesses that or not

Kaidou’s Guide to Making Friends: akechi's encounters are getting to kaidou even more so, and reita is finally introduced. almost all the dragon cast will be present in the story at last, all except for one last member (and hii. but she was technically introduced already)

Show Me the World Outside: casino robbery happens. kusuo gets his spine broken and demonstrates his healing (panacea (a character from worm) style but very slow and very easy to mess up) after being out of commission for the second half of the fight

^ this might actually end up being TWO chapters away, have yet to see if the pre-robbery scenes take up a whole chapter or not

Beloathed Fate: the dragonets are captured and some skywing guards learn about rainwing venom with some very direct teaching methods. one of the skywing guards in their new prison is oddly fascinated with kusuo

[rabbit-harpist]

WIP Game

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet and tell us about it!

thanks @factorialsotherfandoms for the tag! unfortunately i don’t often do titles, and they’re very straightforward when i do. anything in parentheses was titleless and filled in after the fact.

some of these are brief, some quite long, and none are polished, but i had fun reading back through them. here they are from most to least recent, spanning almost six months. ask if you wish!

opd fixit au

ordem fic (lizago)

ordem fic (joui contemplates)

osnf gatekeeper fic

(vaguely land of stories enigma siblings)

(egg madoka magica au)

(jaiden attempts flight in purgatory)

(hunted fed worker)

(benito vs. panacea interview)

tallulah-chayanne-vigilante-au