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diejager · 9 months

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BEGGING I WAS LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER FOT THE MONSTER AU 141 😭😭😭😭😭

pretty pretty please 🙏🙏

Only Human pt.2

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x reader

Cw: canon-typical violence, hate, xenophobia, mention of racism, blood and violence, injury, fighting, protective 141, trauma?, anxiety, tell me if I missed any. wc: 6.3k

Only Human Masterlist

You still wonder, to this day, why you were needed on the Task Force. It worked like a well-oiled machine when put to the task, nearly unstoppable in the face of enemies. Although you were prideful to call it your home, you felt lacking compared to them, all much stronger, fiercer, and nimbler than you in every aspect, separated by miles of distance. One thing, however, that you could wield with an iron fist was your human nature and people’s fear of newly implemented hybrids. The public expression from governments about welcoming them into their ranks and their society without staying hidden under the pretence of being sick or behind a veil of secrecy.

You, after seeing how many Joint Task Forces and other Teams treated the 141, decided to deal with the introductions, the medium, the pacifier, between every team. Humans tended to react differently to another human than to a hybrid, they were nicer, less brutal and honest (a kind that held little spite). Laswell seemed more agreeable to your idea when you first came up to her with it, having seen the hate sent to hybrids she worked with. She encouraged you to be the first to interact or stand beside Price when he greeted human soldiers. Price, unlike Laswell, was reluctant at first. His instinct of protection and possession of his hoard made him less open to such ideas, especially if it brought you some, if any, backlash from other humans (humans are cruel, they shun what they don’t understand, they fear it and push to control it, if not, they destroy it. The need to control every aspect of their life made humans ruthlessly unremorseful and unsympathetic to other causes.).

As a tight-knit TF, some decisions are taken in votes, by hearing what the others thought of the idea or plan and his one was harsh. Ghost was hard-pressed on keeping you between them, the little, fleshy human of their Task Force (the youngest) and to let them deal with xenophobic glares while keeping you protected. Alejandro was similarly worried, but he knew the outcome of letting you speak first or accompany Price. He was torn. The others, Soap, Gaz and Rudy, seemed onboard, with the kind of why the fuck not? kind of look on their faces. Soap especially, he’d be able to stick close to you without having to hover over you like a protective guard dog.

Seeing the votes in your favour, he let it pass, and no sooner had they needed to meet a second team - human soldiers - for the next deployment. You stood beside Price when he strutted down the walkway, shoulders broad and back straight, an image of a strong and fearless leader with his draconic tail flailing lowly. He, as intended, greeted them first, rank and name before he presented you, his little human helper with humans. They’d taken better to speaking to you, being spoken by one of their own rather than a hybrid. He saluted you more amicably and more sincerely:

“Pleasure meeting you, Hunter.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”

Although it wasn't without its setbacks, the operation went well, you had been able to come out mostly unscathed, leaving a few enemies on the brink of death for Ghost to savour. He was most thankful, a part of his body dissolving into the finest mist as they washed over the living bodies sprawled on the ground. You watched on, mesmerised by the uncanny way Ghost’s body absorbed the bodies of others, flooding the area with his shadow while you stayed unbothered, in the same condition as he first started. His darkness reached your neck, covering you in a soft cover of warmth as he ground the bodies to ash and dust. His skin was cold, but his powers were darkly hot, burning with the embers of hell, of a dead soul coming back for revenge and evilness.

Beyond the fact that your idea worked, you liked feeling useful to them, having a semblance of usefulness in a team of extremely competent beings. You felt with first greetings from then on, smiling and saluting to the leading figures of the groups you’d work alongside. It lessened the weight on Price to appease and pacify the new additions, he’d be able to fare better with the operators now that they had a different welcome, a different kind of greeting. It played into the minds of wary men that a human was the one to greet them, that one of theirs was leading the hybrids for them. You played the perfect example of a soldier for any xenophobic bastard.

Ghost, while still feared, received fewer glares than he usually would, occasional ones from daring or bold soldiers holding a lower rank than him, but he appreciated your attempts at making them more comfortable. He’s used to the negative reactions, had been since his childhood, but you seemed to make him feel like he deserved better, like he shouldn’t be glared, spat and scoffed at.

Soap, Rudy and Alejandro looked like human men in peak condition, if only for Soap and Alejandro’s glowing eyes and heightened strength and agility. Rudy was somewhat human, he looked and acted like one, down to the DNA, but with the title of cadejos vessel came powers. Perhaps not as strongly affecting as the rest of the hybrids, but he had subtle changes in his molecular making.

Gaz had stares coming left and right, daggers sent his way for having wings and talons he couldn’t will them to disappear, to recess under his skin and wear the appearance of a human man. He felt the heaviest blow by both not being able to cover his gifts and the colour of his skin. Although you wanted to proclaim that your new age came with more open-minded people, you knew that it simply couldn’t fix hundreds of years of standards in a few decades. People would still judge others by the tone and colour of your skin, they’d still hate the different and the strange; just like they hated hybrids. So you kept to his side most often after your introductions, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close, letting him embrace you with a protective wing and a grateful smile.

You mostly worked hand in hand with human-filled teams and spear-headed human-led operations. So you were shocked, frozen to your core, when you saw a tiger haetae hybrid beside a tall, veiled operator walking down the cargo ramp. The hybrid, a tiger variant from the black-striped, orange tail that flickered slowly in a warning to any approaching beings. Dark glasses and a mask covered his face, his jacket and vest riding to the edge of his jaw, covering any skin from showing, though his lower back was left uncovered for the comfort of his swaying tail. He was neither short nor tall, he was tall enough to be slightly over the average height, but his teammate dwarfed him.

Perhaps his enormous height was an aspect of his monster half, or maybe he had the perfect genes to hold such a frame. He too, like his haetae operator, hid his face under a veil with maroon tears painted under his eyes. Like Ghost, he was covered head to toe in equipment and clothes, a jacket, a vest, gloves and black paint around his eyes. Whoever this was had both height and mass, burly arms and broad shoulders eclipsed by a slim waist and equally, disastrously thick thighs. On their left arm were flags, one from South Korea and the other from Austria.

They were the only ones to walk out, the only ones to approach you. Then your TF only had two new faces to work with rather than a whole team. You were tempted to say it would be easier, you waited until they stopped for Price - Price only - to greet them since they wouldn’t need a human to negate any aggressiveness between human and hybrid - or so you thought. They moved in synchrony, Price stepping forward to cover you with his body, his back facing you as he crossed his arms. Ghost and Alejandro had moved next to the captain, covering your sides. Alejandro had crossed his arm in a similarly menacing way, and Ghost stood still, body rigid but ready to strike at a moment’s notice; both were glaring ahead. Soap and Rudy took their places behind the colonel and the lieutenant, arms glued on their sides, weapons within reach with menacing stares towards the Korean and the Austrian. Gaz’s wings grazed you, soft feathers wrapping themselves around you and pulling you into his chest, acting as a protective cocoon for you.

“What-?”

They moved so quickly and efficiently that they seemed to suddenly appear in place, back straight and protective. Protective of you. Hybrids, from what you’d heard from couples and families, were possessive of their own, caring and extremely wary of other hybrids they hadn’t formed a bond with. Your TF was your pack, they were all tethered to each other through the familial bond they formed over the years. Then you came in, small and weak with your human self into a den of lions, thrown to be subjugated to their loving mercy and sinfully strong personalities.

The team of six hybrids encased you, barring the KorTac specialists from seeing you. Monsters and hybrids could sense one another - from what you heard - and they reacted instinctively. You saw their bodies tense as the two approached your team, muscles strained under the compacting anxiety and possessiveness. You could neither see over their shoulders nor feel what was happening, they stopped farther from you than you’d expected and you couldn’t see their feet.

The only sign you had was your captain’s gravelly voice welcoming them, his tail swaying like a cat’s tail, a slow, cautious motion. It - knowingly or unknowingly, seeing as Price acted on a mix of instincts and worry - wrapped around your ankle, clinging tightly to your boot-clad leg while a rumble rattled his chest. Steam rolled from his lips, billowing over the top of his hat in a show of power and warning. You hoped they wouldn’t take this negatively. They worked hard to curb the harmful rumours of 141 being beasts in human skin, acting like blood-thirsty and ravaging monsters that cared for nothing but themselves.

Although you couldn’t see them, the Austrian could, his towering height assured that he could see over almost any human, monster and hybrid alike. He was curious about the way they protected one of theirs as if you were weak. He cocked his head, green eyes gleaming red as he stared silently at the small mop of hair between them. What made you so important? What made you such a protected soldier? He couldn’t sense you like he could the others, their scent and magic masking yours in a violent torrent.

Unlike him, his friend couldn’t be bothered with the show of protection, he’d enrolled for the money and wouldn’t be deterred by much. He was a tiger haetae, honourable to a certain extent and proud. He might be shorter than the hybrids around him, but he was as vicious and talented as the next. He, however, was slightly curious, but he wasn’t paid enough to inquire or worry about the doings of 141’s pack.

It went as well as anyone would expect for the 141 with the added help of two military, hybrid operators from an elite PMC. As the combat medic of the TF, you followed them from behind and moved to the middle when you entered the building. You’d usually be at the back, being a medic, but you were a combat medic, having seen and participated in complete ops dealing with infiltrations and hostage rescue. You were an integral part of every mission. Now that they had a medic on hand, the wounds the men suffered could be treated in place rather than wait for the long ride home with the possibility of letting infection take root in the gash and watching it fester during hours in the carrier.

They had a habit of getting shot and slashed, a tad bit reckless in their ways but still effective. The stress of risking infection or the impossibility of reaching a medic after a mission was lessened, Price would still be able to live a few more centuries before his hair turned grey with nerves and his face wrinkled with frowns. You were a treasure beyond the fact that you were extremely helpful and insightful on your own. Your hands were steady and your demeanour calm and collected (albeit fidgety when put under too much pressure and fiery when someone looked at them differently.), you were a beauty, someone they needed to nurse and protect.

“I warned you about standing so close to the explosion!” They watched you berate Soap, cheeks puffed and lips pulled in an adorable pout. You went on a list of things he could’ve done better and safer than the decision he made, hands pulling the bandage around his arm, your bag set beside you.

“How was I supposed ta know?” The werewolf grumbled, giving you his best version of his “puppy dog eyes'' while he slouched back, trying to sit as comfortably as possible on the hard seats of the aircraft carrier.

“You’re a demolition expert, you’re supposed to know, Soap.” You hissed, tightening the wrap and smoothing it over so that it would hold. Your hand dipped into your bag, pulling out a few alcohol wipes for his face. With a jerky motion of your hands, you broke the seal and started patting his bleeding cuts from shrapnel and grazes from bullets. He winces with every dab, fidgeting in his seat while you disinfected his wounds, wiping away the dirt and blood before deeming it clean enough to move to the next one. “You also have a habit of setting things on fire.”

Although you mumbled it so quietly, the others heard you clearly, laughter rumbling out of the others while they watched Soap being scolded by the youngest. You never feared reprimanding them for an idiotic act that would result in having you tending to them, it was something they appreciated, the familiarity and comfort you had with them. They weren’t monsters, hybrids or anything with you, they were your family.

Seeing you so at ease with them had König and Horangi curious, most would cower or segregate themselves from other hybrids. You especially, seeing as you were the only human with them, they thought it’d be normal to see you shrink onto yourself and ignore the world around you while you waited to return home. Yet here you were, berating a werewolf for cuts and bruises that would heal in the following days, his metabolism prevented infection and permanent scarring unless it was too deep or deadly. They’d simply add to his rugged handsomeness.

König wondered if you’d show him the same amount of compassion and ease when you tended to his wounds - if he ended up having any at all. Would your hands be soft like his mother’s when cradling his arm? Would you whisper soft nothings to him while you cleaned his gashes with antiseptics? Would you also scold him for being reckless? He doubted that. Granted, he was extremely reckless and lost himself to the adrenaline pumping through his system when he entered the field, but he always came out unscathed. As a percht hybrid, his extreme enhancements made him practically numb to pain and sensations, with the small exceptions of a few primarily driven emotions or natural reactions to certain stimuli.

Perhaps, if your efforts were thwarted by his immense height, you’d hold and tend to him as softly as you did with the others, running your fingers through his hair and cradling him against your chest. He thirsted for something mundane, something so human-like that he would be reminded that he wasn’t completely a monster. He missed the softness in people’s gazes or the carefree way they spoke to and with him. He missed being reminded that he - too - was a living being with their rights. You could be the start of a regular life - as regular as a mercenary could have.

Even Horangi, who had vehemently stated to König that he could care less about the small, weak human in the operation, gave you the merit of being strong-willed and confident enough to stand beside them. He, the ever prideful and strong hybrid he was, deemed you competent for a human. Your usefulness started with your quick reactions and impeccable skills in your field and stopped when you couldn’t save someone, which had yet to happen. He was intrigued by the workings of your TF, how they managed to score a single human and an amicable one at that, strong and fierce, yet gentle and compassionate. If he’d grown up with someone like you, would he have turned out the way he did?

He simply watched from his corner beside König, through tinted glasses his eyes followed your movement, memorising everything you did for your brothers. They felt like imposters in your small, seven-men group, seemingly standing awkwardly in their little corner. 141 had shown a bit of aggression towards them in warning words and deadly glares when they assumed you didn’t see them, hissing out threats to ensure your safety among them. Not only were they confused by the dynamic, but they weren’t told anything besides “Back off” and growls.

After patting Gaz’s knee, giving him an oscar winning smile with gleaming eyes that were received with enthusiasm, you packed your things in your bag and moved to the next patient. You skipped Price, Ghost and Rudy, crouching in front of Alejandro. Rummaging through your bag and handing him a clean wipe for his dust-covered face, the soot clinging to his cheeks. He expected you to sit by your locked rifle after checking them, but you continued walking. You were heading towards them.

He knew König left the ground unscathed, clean of anything but dirt and blood, which meant he was the one you were heading towards. Hand on your pouch and a steady step backed up by a determined expression, you stopped before him. He tilted his head, a silent question. You blinked dumbly, holding out your hand to him, your small fingers backing him to give you something.

“Can I see your hand?”

His hand? He hadn’t thought much of it as he rested it on yours, palm upwards and gloveless. He saw it then, the small cut that bled red, small enough to be neglectable, but long enough to still be bleeding. He hadn’t felt anything from it before or after boarding the aircraft, he must’ve still been riding the adrenaline rush from the fight. He wondered how you knew he hurt himself.

Your fingers curled around his palm, holding it firmly as you lightly dabbed the inflamed skin with a sterilised tissue, being careful of the flared sides of his torn flesh. Under the blood and dirt, his skin was pale and swollen, the area having demanded his body to react to the potential bacteria that would worm its way into his system. You threw the bloody tissue aside and got an antiseptic wipe, being careful to not irritate his wound. Your care was gentle and patient. To a being like him, a hybrid and KorTac op, gentle and patient were foreign words to him. None were gentle to hybrids and none were patient with mercenaries.

Even as you wrapped the gauze and bandage around his hand, you gave him all your attention, sweetly cradling his hand between yours and nursing his gash with utmost care. It felt alien, the soothingly soft care of a medic. Other medics would’ve stared at him with disgust or hate if he walked near the infirmary, or they were rough and uncaring towards his needs.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, the sudden realisation of his silence in the face of a benevolent angel and the rush of embarrassment that flushed his neck hotly. He stared dumbly at his hand when you left, placed on his thigh with the white bandage staring right at him. The warmth of your hand had sunk into his skin, the feather-light tenderness of your fingers painted in his memory and your smile and determined expression stuck to him.

Even as he let his mind wander and body thirst for another taste of your gentleness, he could feel the burning stares of the other men. König with his curious and envious gaze, wanting to feel the snippet you offered Horangi, wanting your hands and stare at his giant figure. The 141 with their protective and warning glare, resenting him for taking a few minutes of your attention from them. You’d moved on your own, making your decision to help him with his small wounds as you did with them, he hadn’t forced you or compelled you to treat him.

Perhaps there was more than money and experience that was worth in this joint operation.

When the success of their first mission reached the prying ears of the General, he’d given them a few more joint ops - paid by the United States pockets, of course. Horangi and König were given temporary rooms in the barracks, in the same corner as the other hybrids and you, but far enough to show that they were excluded from them. Fortunately, they wouldn’t share the room, tigers were protective of one’s territory, and a percht hybrid - as rare as it may be - was documented to be hyper-possessive of their things, especially so for someone like König.

Horangi didn’t ignore you anymore, wanting to start a conversation when he passed you or staring at you from the other side of the room until you waved at him, letting him know he could approach you. He worked relentlessly to close the gap he had made between you, wanting to attach himself to the one good thing he had. Yet he had to be cautious, any indication of him being a threat to you would make your team act out in unison, pushing him back and covering you like they did the second he descended the ramp.

Ghost would hover over you, his body moving the darkness around him to seem more menacing. Ghost always glared at him when you turned your back to the Brit, his brown eyes swirling with the promise of death and devastation. Ghost wasn’t a physical hybrid, as Horangi had learned, but he had no qualms about keeping a hand on your hip or over your shoulder, acting as an imposing being that showcased his claim on you so publicly. It filled the Korean with envy and anger, he wanted to touch you as easily as the wraith did, he wanted a claim on you like the Lieutenant did, and he wanted to hold you close.

If not Ghost, it’d be Rudy or Gaz crowding you. If you were in the rec room, Gaz would usually be there with you. His arm thrown over your shoulders, pulling you into his side while his wings curled around you two, dark brown feathers ruffled to look menacing but comfortable to your touch. With the way he sat, slouching and legs spread across the sofa, he took all the available seats on the cheap, brown couch. When Gaz caught sight of him, he’d purposefully moved to take up more space, showing just how much one of the nicest of the 141 ostracised him. Although when someone from his TF, he’d move aside, giving space to the man to join them.

If you were walking around the base, Rudy - or Rudolfo as Horangi was forced to call him - would be by your side. Rudy had an arm wrapped around yours, seemingly like a military couple out on a casual walk, or he had his hand on your back, acting as the protective lover. Rudolfo’s smile was always wide and adoring when Horangi saw him walk you, exchanging words and making you laugh. It stung Horangi in an inexplicable way as if someone was knowingly sentencing him to death without any proof of his accountability. Rudy, the second nicest guy, also made glaring passes his way, pulling you closer to his side, directing you away and staring coldly at Horangi.

It rubbed him wrong, all the silent glares and insults at him to push him farther from you, but he was Horangi the Tiger haetae. He made his calculations, he was as smart and as resourceful as he was patient. Give it a few more missions together and they would loosen enough to let him swoop you off your feet. You were his source of comfort, of love and gentleness, he had to protect it.

Unlike Horangi, König actively sought you out on the base, following the trail of your scent and the soft noises of your voice and heartbeat. He was like a dog on your trail, nose sniffing every bit of air for you and ears strained for any noise you’d make. His senses were stretched thin to find a moment with you. He was as animalistic as a hybrid could get, leaning towards his monster to help him with his ops and trials.

You piqued König’s curiosity, making him wander the halls like a lumbering monster in a dark veil and glaring, red eyes. He saw how you treated big and dangerous monsters like the dragon hybrid you had as a captain, a respectable man, as soft as you treated the rowdy and rough werewolf and gracefully dangerous nagual. König wanted to feel your softness on him, your small hand grasping the tight muscles of his shoulders and back, kneading the tension away with grounding massages and stretches. You were their doctor, you cared enough to join them in the field, so you’d naturally be willing to mass the pain out of his body, no?

He wanted moments alone, where he could speak his mind without fear of being interrupted or pushed away for his imposing stature and aura. He wanted to place a hand on your waist, to feel the plush roundness of your stomach and the firm contour of muscle on your thighs. He wanted his voice to carry easily in the void of silence, where his voice could be heard by you from a small whisper. He wanted your eyes to focus on him, solely, as if he was your world.

He found it rather irritatingly difficult to find such moments. When he followed your scent through the halls and down to the medic's office, he’d find Captain Price crowding the room with his powerful musk of Ashe and fire - of metal and iron. Although Price was much shorter and lesser ranked than König was, he held the power of age and wisdom, an unfathomable strength that lay solely in draconic beings. This eternal power that none could rival apart from Eldritch beings, most cower, whimper and hide from dragons. He wore his power and wisdom on his sleeves, a warning for everyone, him and his KorTac operators included. König might’ve been reckless, but he wasn’t a fool, fighting headfirst with dragon seamed chaos and devastation. So, as any hybrid did, he backed away, an old dragon was dangerous, but a crippled one made it even more perilous.

When König tried to find you in the rec room, you were held in the tight embrace of a possessive wolf. Soap had you straddling his lap, facing him as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. He purred and kissed your skin, making you squirm and giggle, but then Soap’s eyes gazed upwards and grew cold and unruly at König’s appearance. A proud - dare he say, cruel - smirk curled the corners of his lips. That was when he realised what the sergeant was doing. Soap, in the open, was scenting you, rubbing his musk over your neck, where - if you were another sifting hybrid like him and Alejandro - would’ve been your scent gland. It was a blatant show of possession. He nipped at your throat, drinking in your yelp and hiss, your back arching and moving to push him from biting too much. It filled him with rage.

If you weren’t with either dragon or werewolf, you were with Alejandro, the Hispanic scenting you as much as Soap did, but he did it with more finesse and subtlety. He would draw your hair back, the gland on his wrist grazing your neck and ears, imprinting you with him. Alejandro would hold your hand, fingers neatly intertwined with yours, his face laying on your shoulder as he spooned you in his lap. He purred and whispered sweet promises that had you nodding and smiling like a child on Christmas. He oosed of pheromones, filling the area with his scent and in turn, covering you completely in him. König watched with envy as Alejandro read to you, cradled between his thighs and falling asleep, his, Soap and everyone else’s musk laying a possession over you.

König’s a determined person when he put his mind to it, willing his beaten and bloodied self back to camp, or his sleep-deprived and insomniac-ridden mind to concentrate on the enemy. He was a battering ram, he pushed forward forcefully, however hard he had to, all to reach the end goal. This time, it wouldn’t be the head of his target, or the capture of an asset, this time, it would be you.

They both wondered, with how close your TF was, what was the dynamic. Was it a pack that shared the same lover? Was it a pack that had formed such a close connection to a human that you were deemed an integral part of the pack? Or were you the child they watched over and protected?

The next few missions 141 and the two from KorTac went on were as successful as the first, the cooperation of two ruthless mercenaries and a hybrid, specialist group made these tasks easy, near child’s play for them. Along with the aspect of having a medic on hand, it let them run wild, play along the edge and act more recklessly than they normally would. Having Horangi and König for so long, made them become a standard in the base, seeing them walk among the shorter and weaker humans. That also meant they had seen their fair share of xenophobic soldiers with balls bigger than a dragon’s and an ego the size of an Eldritch creature.

Every hybrid and monster was used to their hateful glares and sneering venom-dripping words. Ignoring them had become easier after the first year of enrolment. Horangi and König were, however, not used to someone defending them with their most honest heart of gold with earth-shattering words.

The first time they’d seen you defend your team was right after a mission, haunches, lumbering bodies descending the carrier’s ramp with their bags slung over their shoulders and addled with fatigue after a week of deployment. Young, power-hungry sergeants who’d let their ranks get to their heads had slid before them, head held high and shoulders held wide. Every single one of them knew that the moment the sergeant’s mouth opened, nothing good would come out of it. Perhaps degrading insults or back-handed sneers.

When the first sentence slipped from the man’s tongue, you pushed your way between them, barrelling into the man who’d insulted them. A deep frown was etched into your lips, brows creased so darkly into you that it cast a dark shroud of anger over your face. If König hadn’t known that you were a human, he would’ve thought that you were a being of darkness.

“You dim-witted bastards-!” Was the first word you let out, your usually soft-spoken self with gentle hands spewed acid at them, threatening to burn their skin.

Dim-witted, indeed. Old, conservative assholes who thought they were better than the rest with their pro-human propaganda and xenophobic acts against hybrids. Horangi had expected you to continue your scolding, wringing the sergeant dry with your words, not your hands. You used your hands, fingers curled inward, thumb over the curves of your bones and decked the man. It shocked them both, you were smaller, shorter, human and seemed weaker than the men, yet here you were, sending him toppling on the floor, his friend gaping and pouncing on you. Only to be met with your foot to his crotch.

“You bet your ass you won’t get any medical attention after this,” you hissed.

Although your words sounded improbable since you weren’t the only medic on base, you had built a connection through the system, every medic knew you and heeded your words. If one didn’t want a man healed, you and the rest wouldn’t help him. If you wanted a man to suffer, the rest would watch on with you. Medics were themselves, a tight-knit couple that helped one another. So your words were more than a threat, it was a promise.

“Until I see your sorry asses on your deathbed or grovelling, none of us will lift a finger for you. Bleed and beg all you want, but you aren’t getting help.”

You acted with an iron hand, sending the rest to the ground, moaning and groaning, cradling whatever part of their body you’d hit. They wondered why Ghost hadn’t moved, and neither did Gaz or Rudy, the most protective ones. When König glanced down at Ghost, he saw pride in his eyes, dark curled on sadistic pleasure swirling in his brown eyes. When Horangi gazed at Gaz and Rudy, he saw simple amusement, their mouths threatening to curl in a smirk.

All of them had known you’d act this way, erratic and violent rather than calmly scold them and stomp over their ego. You were strong-headed and blunt to them, making them bow to you, like lesser men to a lady, a queen, a goddess.

Horangi had experienced his own protection from you. After the men had loosened enough to trust him and König, he could walk beside you and hold a simple banter, albeit awkward at the start. You were much more violent this time, reaching for the downed man while hissing and screeching after you sent him to the floor with well-aimed kicks. You were like a gremlin, small and lively. He understood your anger, they’d called him racist things, calling out his Asian roots and hybrid characteristics.

Horangi had to hold you from going off on him following your promise of neglecting his medical needs. It worked, though. The first group had searched to plead, to apologise and beg for medical attention. You’d sent them away with a small note lifting the ban for medical help. You were as ruthless with people as they were to enemies.

Any other encounters with hot-headed men and women that glanced at them weirdly were met with a varying amount of anger and disgust from you. Horangi understood why 141 held you so carefully, so tightly in their hold. Why they worshipped you like a priest would do with his goddess. It was a sense of camaraderie that had evolved into love, affection dripping from their pores.

König received a bit more attention for his size, the threatening nature of his ouster coupled with his brute figure, made him a subject of fear and rejection. That hadn’t stopped you from wanting to approach him, had it? Going as far as calling him cute when he stuttered while broaching the subject of him liking certain things. For a burly man with the height of a giant, he was nice to sit next to, his quiet but anxious stature when he wasn’t deployed made it easy to talk to. He might sometimes let his instincts drive him, but they were all well-meaning, wanting nothing but goodness for you.

His turn came in quick succession, he was shunned and ridiculed left and right. It never helped that he would shy from others, preferring his little corner that made the room look stranger and claustrophobic (not that he let them walk all over him, he growled and glared, standing tall with the promise of lashing out or eating them. Even when humans feared König, they still attempted to rile his anger.). But with you, he wasn’t by his lonesome, he had someone to rattle on about the things he liked to do, or the things he wanted to do. His shoulders were relaxed and mind calm, free to speak his mind about the goriest and the sweetest dreams he had, his speech unperturbed by his anxiety.

Unlike the others, König stood before you as an impenetrable wall of muscle and fat when you raised your hand at an insignificant pig. Why would he let someone so disgusting touch you (even though it was to hit and kick the man, he would do it for you instead)? He guarded you as if they were insulting you rather than him - though it was the reverse - and glared down at anyone with dreadfully scary eyes. Like the devil that had risen, he sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs. Although he was the one that had gotten rid of them, he was always so proud of you, holding you close to him and gushing about your brave and inspiring actions.

He saw how the men in 141 looked at you, he wanted to be a part of it, to be able to freely nuzzle your face and hold you like Soap would, to cradle you in his arms and carry you around the base. König wanted a piece of your heart, to be able to show the world he held it in his hands, caring for it between his big, calloused fingers and soft affection. He might be dangerous, he might be deadly, he might be reckless, but if you let him, you would be his world like you were to the others (Horangi would agree, they spoke about it on their own.).

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rboooks · 10 months

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The bakery is a front....right? PART 4

Dedicated to @foxy-tea. Thank you for your lovely words!

Danny didn't want to do it, but he had to admit that his mating season peak had arrived and could not work in that condition. It wasn't that Danny was like a cat in heat, wanting to engage in intercourse all the time.

No, his body craved a life partner and a child to smother in fierce paternal love. It was a bit worse if you asked him. If he just manwhore his way through the city over three months, well, they would just whisper about how easy he was.

A bit embarrassing but not uncommon for someone with Danny's good looks.

Instead, his mating season made him a would-be kidnapper.

He had to physically slam a hot pot of coffee on his hand a week ago when a customer had walked in with a baby, and Phantom had tried to leap over the counter to take the babbling bundle of joy as his own.

Not to mention how Phantom reacted to some of his youngest delivery employees. He hadn't realized he was mumbling "Mine. mine. mine. mine. mine" while approaching Manolo for his latest delivery until Peter had stepped into his path with the dirtiest glare Danny had ever seen.

The punch to his throat hadn't knocked the wind out of him- since Phantom had stopped his breathing three days prior - but it was enough to get Danny out of the daydreams of tucking Manolo into bed after a cup of tea and a bedtime story.

We could teach him to bake. We can teach him to ride a bike. We can sit through all his school performances, no matter how bad they are. We could be his dad. Phantom had cried as Manolo had thrown himself between Peter and Danny, his little arms spread wide to protect him. Let me have the child! Manolo is mine! He's mine to love, mine to protect!

Danny had never had such trouble getting Phantom to settle.

In seconds, Peter was quickly surrounded by Andres' friends and the rest of Danny's staff. He had taken a fighter position, looking around like an animal about to maul its victims while Danny wrestled with himself to get control.

He and Phantom are not two separate personalities fighting for control but one person with conflicting instincts.

One of a human's most basic instincts is self-preservation. A ghost's most basic instinct is self-fulfillment.

Danny did not want things to become a free-for-all where someone could get hurt. Phantom tried to fight them all to claim the kids under his protection.

Thankfully, everything was deescalated by Jazz's timely arrival. Danny couldn't really remember what she had done (too busy struggling to hold himself as a human and not go ghost to become the most excellent dad to ever dad). Still, if there was one gift Jazz had, it was being able to reason with spirits about their obsessions.

If she could convince beings whose entire existence depended on being stubborn about a particular subject, she could persuade humans of anything.

Peter had been allowed to leave with no injuries, and even two days paid off, while the rest had realized that the man had just acted out of PTSD due to what Jazz called "projecting trauma in safe settings."

There were a lot of people in this area that understood what PTSD episodes did to them and had not faulted Petter. Manolo even gave Peter a small crocheted fox to help him overcome the fear.

(Danny had given the small fox plushy to Manolo when the kid first arrived at his bakery, proclaiming it had a protective spell to keep fear away. He had yet to be aware the boy carried around with him.)

Jazz had then taken Danny to his apartment, where she had placed him in quarantine. She had been informed by Frost Bite during their bi-weekly mentor/protegee meetings- Jazz was studying under the Yeti in Ghost Psychology- that Danny's Peak had arrived. Danny would jack up his "I need to be a dad" and "I need to be a husband" urges to Fruitloop levels.

Danny would try to force someone into that role if he was around humans or ghosts, even if it was against their will. Ugh, he would be a Vlad 2.0 for a full two weeks!

He could not risk himself around others. So with a heavy heart, he informed his employees he would be stepping away for a two-week long vacation and had made it seem like he left on a plane to visit Jazz overseas.

His staff would take care of the bakery for him, but it saddened Danny he could not be there to help with things. He then sealed off all entries to his apartment and informed the residents of the Ghost zone he was in, "Mating Peak retreat," so no one would bother him past a few already mated servants of the Ghost King.

They would bring him supplies and requests through a no-contact portal once he ordered them through a magical catalog. It was like online shopping for ghosts.

Danny now had to wait two weeks for this to finally go away, and he could go about his ordinary daily life of being perfectly dead and alive. Until it happened again the following year.

Elli told him to be grateful it was only a yearly thing, not a monthly deal. He shuddered at the mere thought of experiencing this every month.

Done! Phantom cheers snapping Danny back to reality. In his hands are a pair of freshly crocheted booties. He hadn't even been aware he was making them.

They look great, Danny tells Phantom, turning them in his hands to smile at the giant sunflowers on each side. A button was used as the center of the flowers, and Phantom even included a few lace designs around them to look like leaf vines.

They are based on the park's flowers.

The park?

Yes, the park where you promised to take me today! Phantom goes from calmly talking to screaming, and Danny winces.

You know I can't go outside. You'll just try to steal a child from the park.

I would never forget to also steal a wife or husband!

Danny sighs, rubbing his face knowing he was telling himself that forgetting a spouse was worse than the idea of kidnapping people. He places the booties on top of an ever-growing pile. Since his quarantine has begun, Danny has made about two hundred pairs of various styles, sizes, and colors.

Danny looks around at the piles and piles of other of his crocheting projects. He's got sweaters, scarves, gloves, socks, hats, beanies, and even blazers for various genders, ages, and styles meant to help with the coldest winter. He could adequately dress his whole street and still have some left over.

All prepared for his nonexisting family.

He has been making them at the same speed he can fly, i.e., 200 mph. He's made some yarn dealers in the zone extremely wealthy. He can't help it, though. Danny has frozen every inch of his apartment too far too cold levels for an average human without proper wear.

He's been working fast because his human mind knew that the cold was terrible for his lover and children, so it wanted to keep them nice and warm. While his ghost side added layers of snow to the floor and ice to the walls, he even made decorative ice sculptures that he desperately reorganized again and again to find the perfect balance of the cold. Only his electronics were not frozen over, so even his furniture had layers of ice- some with designs to make them look fancier.

He's also cooked up a storm in preparation for feeding his family. Only to realize a spouse and kids were not coming, thus forcing him to donate his meals to the ghost delivery people. They were ever so happy to have five-course meals shoved at them just for bringing the king more yarn.

Danny throws himself face-first into the pile of snow from his couch, allowing the softness to cushion his fall. There is a terrible itch under the skin. It's begging him to leave to find someone to kiss and worship. Unwillingly, Alvin's face appears in his mind before he turns over and stares at his ceiling. He's made all the constellations into small carvings on the ice. I can't go outside. I can watch another movie or make more bagels instead.

Watching another romance movie won't bring me a mate! Phantom hisses.

I know but-

Suddenly Danny senses flair as someone crosses over his wards. Sitting up in alarm, Danny makes a break for his room as even more people join the first and break into his guest room through a window. Not that he can't take whoever they are, but if he comes face to face with them-well, Danny thinks he may keep them.

That's not something he's willing to risk.

Phantom is already throwing out some severe pheromones that would likely infatuate them to Danny, babbling about this being their chance. Four adults- spouses!- and a child- a son or daughter!- have entered their main haunt. They had to give them food and warm clothes and cuddle them until they never left!

No!

He can't force them to stay!

He had to make them stay even if it meant chaining them!

No, they would be miserable!

Phantom could make them happy forever!

The effort to stay in his human control took so much effort Danny started to aggressively twitch as he fumbled with the hidden room in the back of an old wardrobe. He's breathing heavily, trying to get his blurry vision to focus so he can open the darn thing and get in. Finally, it does, and Danny just barely closes it when a figure bursts through the door.

He watches through a small crack as the figure carefully looks over his frozen domain. It's one of the vigilantes. Red Robin.

What is he doing here?

The man walks into his room, leaving behind disruptive snow that goes up his ankles.

Thank the Ancients, his footprints do not appear in his own snow. Otherwise, a perfect trail would lead the hero straight to him. Instead, he watches with a hand over his mouth as Red Robin carefully searches his room.

Danny cuts off his need to breathe as the sound would give him away. Still, he's twitching so much that he's practically shaking as the hero carefully breaks the ice over his drawers and pulls out his clothes in quick, careful movements.

Go away. Go away. Go away. Danny thinks desperately. He should have tried calling someone. Jazz. Ellie. Even his parents or Vlad!

None of them would cause his instincts to want to force them to play house- though he would likely still try to imprison them since he would like to protect them non the less.

But they could at least do something and get the poor vigilante somewhere safe!

Never leave. Never leave. Never leave. Phantom purrs, and oh no, an intense burst of pheromones is sent through the room. Red Robin freezes; from what little Danny can see of his face, it's flushed red, and gosh, he wants to smother that man in so much love-

"Guys, I think I came in contact with the drug," Red Robin pants after pressing his hand to his ear. "I don't know how, but I am definitely feeling something. Think it's airborne, but not sure."

He doesn't finish his sentence before Redhood and Nightwing are suddenly in his room. Nightwing has a gas mask over his face while Red Hood swings a gun around the room, looking for a target.

Danny almost whines at the gentle way Nightwing helps Red Robin into a sitting position. He's looking him over with such loving protection that he- that Danny- Phantom wants him- wants a husband-!

"Shit," Red Hood hisses, body pushing back as if some strong wind had hit him. "Yeah, it's definitely in this room. Felt a bit of it, even with my built-in filters. Wing?"

"Did the room get colder?" Nightwing asks as he helps Red Robbin to his feet. The other man seems to be feeling better with his gas mask, but he must still be effect by Phantom's pheromones.

"The wardrobe." Red Robin gasps, pointing unknowingly right at Danny. "The ice around it is getting bigger. And...it's leaking."

What? Danny looks down only to see in horror a knocked-over jar of fresh ectoplasm. He hadn't even been aware he had broken the thing when he crawled here.

The jars were the ones that he gathered with Jazz and Ellie after a three-day foraging trip. All ghosts were made of Ecoplasim, but just like you couldn't stick blood into someone without being comparable, you couldn't use any random ectoplasm for other people- humans or ghosts.

It had to be some of the purest natural kind, not linked to any type of beings, like a river of ectoplasm or the frozen pillars in the farthest parts of the Far Frozen. Giving someone ectoplasm from one's body could taint them in the donator's obsession.

Yes, Danny could make more people protective of each other, but it would likely cause them to be Fruitloop-level protective. They just didn't have the filter like he did to not go mad.

That pure kind was now leaking out of his hiding place and into the white snow of his main lair.

Danny only has a second to panic before the door is wrenched open, and he falls into a stunned Red Robin.

He goes limp from the shock as Phantom purrs, settling in his mind now that he's pressed against a possible mate. Like Danny said, it's not intercourse his ghost side is after, it's close contact, and this is enough to satisfy it.

"Shit, it's Danny. He-he's not breathing, and he's ice cold. I think he's de-dead." Red Robin says in what sounds like tears.

No. My husband is sad. Danny and Phantom think, a terrible pulse of pain bursting across his chest. He can't get his body to move to offer comfort, though. It's been a whole week since he last saw someone in person, and this is so nice. Why did he ever fight this instinct? It felt so good to give in.

He could stay in Red Robin's arms forever.

Red Robin was never going to see the clear sky again. He was never leaving this apartment.

"I found something," Red Hood's voice is behind him. "It looks like it is Lazarus' water, but it's clearer. I think this is our drug. Danny must have ODed."

"No! He can't- we have to do something!" Red Robin cries, and Danny slumps further against him like a broken doll. He's not blinking. Blinking is for humans. Danny isn't a human.

His unfocused eyes stare at wherever Red Robin has him positioned to look.

"There is nothing we can do, Red Robin," A new voice says though not unkindly. Phantom doesn't turn his head but can see Batman walk up behind Red Robin, wearing his gas mask. He places his hand on the trembling vigilante. "You need to put him down."

"No!" Phantom purs as the arms around his shoulders bring them closer to his husband's body.

"It's too late for him, Drake. We can only honor his death."

That....that was a voice of a child. A child is in his main haunt.

Phantom wails in joy.

He gets out of his husband's arms, leaping over Batman, and his arms are around a boy in red, green, and yellow. Phantom smothers his face against the hood covering the boy's head, and short sobs rank his body. "My baby! You're my baby!"

"Unhand me!" His little grunts slamming a knife into Phantom's side, but that doesn't matter because Phantom has his son and his husband in his nest.

A bullet harmlessly passes through his forehead after a loud bang, creating a hole in Phantom's wall. He'll take care of that after he smothers his baby in cuddles.

Nightwing swings a baton at Phantom, but that, too, passes through his body without harm.

"Shit! Danny put him down!"

Huh, was that Sam?

"Danny, I mean it. Drop him!"

Oh, Tucker too!

"Daniel Fenton, you let that boy go right now!" Jazz sounded upset. Maybe she should hold his baby. "Are you listening to me?"

"Danny is not here right now." He hears his body say.

"Ohhhhh. That's not good. Okay, Danny time for a nap!" Ellie flies into his face, her hand glowing green and he has a moment to gasp at the betrayal before she blasts him.

He drops, knowing no more.

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 5)

#dc x dp crossover #the bakery is a front!...right?#Part 4 #Danny's mating stage reaches it's peak #Phantom and Danny's perfect balance was disrupted.#Team Phantom got a notification that someone broke the wards #Danny is nesting #The bats shouldn't have broken in #Hope you like!

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krakensdottir · 9 months

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Also something really important I want to point out about Aziraphale's religious trauma.

It's often framed as him being directly abused by Heaven, generally emotionally. And while I don't doubt he's been belittled at points - probably not by Gabriel, the iconic exemplar of the Toxic Positivity boss, but we know how Michael and Uriel etc. can be - it also seems like he's received quite a lot of praise and has generally managed to pull off the appearance of being A Good Angel, or at least a satisfactory one. I don't think, and this is controversial, but I don't think Heaven was usually overtly hard on him.

Because that's not how this kind of cult mentality usually operates. Instead, it teaches you to abuse yourself. Your overseers don't have to directly hurt or insult you if you're so ingrained with fear of failure by the culture you were brought up in that you constantly question yourself as not good enough.

It's not as... satisfying, I guess? As an external abuser being the main issue. But it's a lot more real. At least to me, because I suffered so much anxiety over being 'good' when I was a kid, and it wasn't from direct abuse. It was absorbed from the culture I was surrounded by. I picked it up by osmosis from society at large, and it tormented me. I worried, I doubted, there was a time I literally feared going to Hell. And I wasn't raised strongly religious. My mother certainly treated me as a Good Kid, and never gave even the suggestion that I wasn't. But I felt that way anyway. And it tore me apart. Because internalizing that shit makes it so much harder to fight.

And to be clear at this point, I am not saying Heaven isn't abusive. I just think the nature of its abuse is more subtle and insidious than it's often given credit for. And - this is even harder to accept, but it's true, and it's important - it's not just abusive to Az. All the angels are victims of it. Yes, even Gabriel. The moment he, one of the most powerful forces in Heaven, steps out of line, we see that no one is exempt. Never even mind Muriel, who is literally on the lowest rung of the Heavenly ladder and has probably never been told they're worth anything beyond being, you know, an angel, so at least you're better than humans and demons.

It's a contrast with Crowley, who has long since accepted most (not all, there are definitely some deep issues remaining, but they're nothing like Aziraphale's) of his internal doubts and struggles. His fears are almost entirely external. He doesn't beat himself up if he fucks up. He doesn't have to. There are people happy to beat him up for him. So when things go really bad for him, his instinct is to run. To get out of the way of harm as much as possible.

The fact that Aziraphale is harder on himself than anyone else could be is a vital part of his character. He self-punishes. He self-criticizes. He feels awful every time he breaks the rules in the slightest, even though he isn't usually caught at it. Crowley can find some safety in solitude if he keeps his wits sharp and his head down. Aziraphale can't, because he carries Heaven's conditioning with him at all times. He doesn't need oversight, it doesn't take external threats to keep him in line. You don't need direct threats when literally everyone in your celestial workplace has seen firsthand the consequences of rebellion.

I don't know if I'm making sense here. Again, this is informed by personal experience and I can't claim to be unbiased. But I see so much internalization with Aziraphale. He literally can't even accept praise without being nervous as hell, and I don't think it's fear of punishment or ridicule that's his primary motivation. He simply cannot ever be good enough for himself.

That's how they get you.

Anyway, I think it's why his reaction to disaster is the opposite to Crowley's, why he feels he has to turn and face it and somehow avert the horror (or, alternatively, find some way to reconcile it in his head and accept it - because let's be real, that's often what happens) rather than get himself away. He's less afraid of failing his superiors than he is of failing himself. And God, who is, objectively, the biggest abuser in the entire story.

#go s2 spoilers #good omens meta #aziraphale #this internalized stuff hurts so much #and it's SO much harder to shake than other forms of trauma #breaking free from heaven isn't just not easy - it's impossible until he finally accepts that HE isn't a failure for not fixing everything #and that's the part of him that crowley can't wrap his head around #tl;dr heaven's culture is abusive to all its angels and they manifest it in different ways #and aziraphale takes it harder than any other we've seen

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within-your-eyes-if · 9 months

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Within Your Eyes Intro Post

DEMO [Last Updated Jan. 24th, 2024]

You are a Warden, a monster hunter who has come to the Kingdom of Auris which has become the forefront runner in it’s acceptance of magic and supernatural alike within the West Highlands. But when strange happenstances occur, you are called upon not just because of skill, but also because of your condition. A condition you’ve lied about for last 12 years.

Unearth the secrets that magic holds as a new form is discovered.

Befriend or romance those who attempt to worm through the cracks of the mask you wear. Or will you fight to keep them at arms length?

Regardless of where your journey takes you, your feathered friend will be at your side. As he always has been.

This story will be 18+ for the following reasons:

Explicit and erotic intimate scenes

Death, including of a child

Violence, blood and gore

Thoughts of suicide

Mentions of suicide

Self harm

Explicit language

Mental trauma

Horror elements

Feelings of being watched

NOTE: Your character will be pretending to have a disability (blindness), not because of a disorder but out of self preservation.

This list may be updated.

You are running away from your past. As you take a this new job, you're forced to confront it. What vices do you use to cope? Will you learn to rely on others or will your raven be your only source of comfort? Will you feel guilty for your lies? Yours will be a journey of self-forgiveness, or maybe you'll only fall deeper into despair.

Play as a man, woman, or non-binary. Gay, straight, or bi.

Plenty of customization options from physical appearance to clothes.

Φ Admos de Le Wren ─ Male | Draconian | Second-Born

Admos, the Dragon Lord of Auris, ascended to the throne following a devastating conflict with his father, bypassing his older brother's claim. This decision deepened the rift among his siblings. As he enters his fifth year as sovereign, Admos grapples with guilt and uncertainty about his role in the family's discord. Will you help him find clarity or fuel his doubts?

Φ Lyth/Lyari de Le Wren ─ Gender Selectable | Draconian | Tenth-Born

Ly took on the role of Viceroy/Vicereine in Auris and became their brother Admos's Right Hand, playing a vital part in the kingdom's recovery after a conflict with their father. However, an incident they triggered over a year and a half ago almost led to another war, casting doubt on their suitability for their position and their aid to their brother. Will you help Ly grapple with their past actions and uncertainties about their role as Viceroy/Vicereine, or will their internal conflicts remain unresolved?

Φ Leese/Lea van Laere ─ Gender Selectable | Human | Vampire

Born into nobility, Lee's life as the child of prominent figures in Lenia took an unexpected turn when they were turned into a vampire. Forced to leave their home, Lee now wrestles with their new identity, desperately seeking meaning in their existence and if it's worth maintaining.

Is Lee a monster consumed by instinct, or can you help them reclaim their humanity?

Φ Xiang Xiaowen/Xiaodan ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Xiao, an ambassador dispatched to Auris to aid the Dragon Lord in Council matters, fought hard to secure their role. Serving as an unofficial advisor, they frequently share insights to assist Admos. Yet their unwavering dedication to obtaining this position hints at a deeper motivation. Perhaps they will reveal it to you.

Φ Gabriel Duarte ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Assigned to you as an assistant of sorts, the recently knighted guard is searching for their place within the Order. Perhaps their new mission will set them on a path for glory, or sink them beneath the turmoils it takes to obtain.

Φ Hestia ─ She/They | Elf? | Witch

Even the most kind have their secrets.

Φ ???

Poly Routes: Lyth/Lyari and Gabriel | Leese/Lea and Gabriel | Xiaowen/Xiaodan and Hestia

Love Triangle: Admos and ???

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

FAQ

Romance Information Post

Ko-Fi

Tumblr Asks are disabled for the time being.

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

WYE will always be free with chapters released once they are finished.

This is a planned trilogy.

Thank you for reading and for your support! ♥

#interactive fiction #within your eyes if #text based game #text based adventure #twine game #twine wip #twine interactive fiction #twine if #twine story #cyoa #interactive game #interactive novel #twine games

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link-posting · 4 months

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Survival Instincts/Time Heals All Wounds Pt. 3

The days since Time got injured seemed to stretch on forever. While most of the Chain got antsy staying in one place for long, they had nothing on Wild. He spent a lot of time pacing around, keeping an eye on their surroundings and listening for anything even vaguely wrong. He still cooked for them, finding it one of the few things capable of occupying his mind even for a short while. He took to making more complex meals, anything to distract himself. No one would let him check on Time, knowing it would only trigger his trauma and flashbacks if they let him inside the cave.

They regularly rotated watches, with Twilight the only one besides Wild to not take a watch. The Chain knew that Twi was the one who understood Wild the best, the only one who really knew how to calm and soothe him. Twilight kept a close eye on him, doing his best to distract his cub when he saw the younger boy staring into the cave for just a little too long. The whole Chain was growing antsy, but none more than Wild. Twi watched as Wild sat beside the fire, his eyes flitting over to look at the cave where Time rested. He was getting antsy. Welp, time to distract him again.

Twilight stood up, walking over to his cub and resting a hand on his shoulder. “You mentioned we’re getting low on supplies. How’s about we go foraging? It looks like there’s probably plenty around here we could find to stock up on.”

Wild jumped when he felt Twilight’s hand land on his shoulder. He looked up, seeing an apologetic expression on his mentor’s face, before looking back towards the cave. “But-”

Twilight shook his head. “It’s okay, Cub. I’m sure things will be alright until we get back. You could use a bit of time away,” he said gently, deciding to just be honest with the boy. He offered a small smile when Wild decided to not fight, sighing and pushing himself to his feet.

Wild looked over at the rest of the Chain that remained outside the cave. “If anything happens, you should be safe in the Cave. This area is relatively calm, not many monsters around. Monsters here tend to stay in their own territories and camps, but who knows what’s changed since the last time we were in my Hyrule…” he trailed off as Twi wrapped his arm around his shoulders and angled him towards the trees.

“They’re heroes in their own right, Cub. I’m sure they’ll be okay,” he said, trying to nudge him towards the woods so they could gather supplies- and hopefully distract Wild enough to give him some level of reprieve from the stress he was under. The entire Chain had been stressed and tense, unable to do anything while waiting for Time to recover… If he recovered. But no one wanted to acknowledge the possibility of Time not recovering. They didn’t know how the Shrine worked, so they didn’t know there was no other option, that Time would recover, no matter how long it took. Wild didn’t mention that, for a Guardian blast, Time got off relatively easily. Wild had been in far worse condition when he was lowered into the Shrine for his 100 year nap.

With one last glance toward the Cave and a deep sigh, Wild turned and walked toward the tree line with Twilight. He knew there was batches of mushrooms and Hyrule Herb in the forest. If he got lucky, maybe they could find some honeycomb. He also had a hammer in his Slate’s inventory, so if they came across any ore he may be able to find some salt as well. No matter what ore he found would be useful, whether it was salt, flint, or some gemstone he could sell off for more supplies. Twilight kept close, not wandering too far but stopping to pluck some mushrooms he found here and there. He watched Wild leap up and grab a tree branch, pulling himself up so he could check for nests with birds’ eggs in them. He found a couple, adding the eggs to his slate before hopping down, only to repeat the move a few minutes later in a different tree. He seemed to know what trees to check, and was almost always right.

They wandered about foraging for a while, gathering up any food supplies they could find. They managed a good haul- Wild even taking down a deer they could use for its meat. It was clear the time away was helping Wild feel a bit better. By the time they noticed the sky starting to darken, Wild was talking a bit more about this and that, teaching Twilight about the resources of the forest they were in and how he knew where to look for what. He did find some ore, managing to snag a few chunks of rock salt and flint- even a sapphire he knew would sell for a pretty rupee. Maybe tomorrow they could use the Slate to travel to Hateno to sell it off and get some supplies he couldn’t find in the wild, like goat butter or milk.

Wild was down at his Slate when they emerged from the trees back at camp, sorting through what they had found so he could figure out what to make for their dinner. He walked a few more steps before he noticed Twilight wasn’t beside him. He looked back, seeing Twilight frozen a few steps back, staring toward the cave.

When he turned to follow Twi’s gaze he saw Hyrule and Legend emerging- with Time standing between them, looking pale and unsteady, but fully conscious.

Hyrule looked over at the Chain, giving a shrug and a relieved smile, looking over at Wild. “We tried to get him to stay and rest more, but he insisted on coming out to see you.”

[Part 1] ; [Part 2]

#tae writes #lu fanfiction #lu fanfic #lu time #lu twilight #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu legend #linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe fanfic

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wardenparker · 1 year

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Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 14

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: E for Explicit. 18+ Word Count: 16k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Hurt/comfort, family planning, mentions of sex toys, lingerie, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex. Summary: Jack’s condition upon waking up in Ginger’s lab has some unexpected consequences. A meeting with Champ goes a little differently than expected. And Tex and Sophia’s wedding leads to something we all should have seen coming. Notes: We’re in the home stretch now, folx! One more chapter and an epilogue before we’re jetting off to the next soulmate story. This rollercoaster with Jack and Sugar has been quite the ride and I can’t begin to say how much I’ve loved having all of you along for it. 🧡🧡✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Hours tick by at a snail's pace. Diana delivers dinner from the restaurant with a Get Well card signed by your staff who all think that it's you still under the weather, and not Jack fighting for his life in a science fiction machine. There's food for you, Tex, and Ginger there but you don't have the stomach for it. You can't seem to do anything but stare as Jack sleeps the hours away, exhausted from crying until there are no more tears left to shed. He has to wake up. He has to.

Six hours pass, then seven. Longer than your own time in the chamber. Hour eight arrives and Jack’s vitals change slightly. The tiniest twitch of his finger, lifting and flexing off the bed. Eyes fluttering slightly. Jack is starting to stir.

“Ginger! Ginger, he’s waking up!” Bolting up out of your chair, you nearly jump forward to get your hands on the pod but Tex holds you back. No good can come from interrupting Jack’s healing, even if he understands how anxious you are.

It’s not an instantaneous thing, waking up from the healing coma he had been in. His injuries were more severe than yours had been, plus his body needed to heal from the trauma of nearly dying several times. He shifts slightly, frowning with his eyes closed as Ginger comes over and punches several commands on the front of the chamber.

“It’s going to be slow,” she warns you, not turning around as she watches Jack’s face start to react to regular stimuli. “You remember how groggy you were?”

“Right.” It takes more of Tex’s strength to hold you back than he expected, but you’re nodding and practically going to pull him over. “I—I just— he’s waking up!”

She bites her lip, remembering the last time that Jack had woken up from a serious injury. She wonders if he will remember you, remember himself. If this will make the situation between you worse. “He’s waking up.” She murmurs quietly.

The monitors whir to life with all manner of sounds and readings and the quiet fear that Jack will be different again gnaws at you. If it had happened once, it might happen again. The door to the chamber clicks and there is a quiet hiss as the pressure equalizes inside. Sounding like something from a science fiction movie before it slowly opens up. The monitor shuts off and for a second the entire room is quiet as everyone instinctively leans in to watch what Jack will do. Tex braces himself, holding back from you and Ginger on purpose – he’s not a medical professional by any means and his face isn’t going to bring Jack’s memories back if they’ve slipped, so all he can do is watch and wait.

When his eyes pop open, they are wide, taking in the scene of two women leaning over him. Watching both of them jump back slightly and he focuses on the one in the glasses, just because she is closer. Swinging up to sit, he leaps to his feet with a smirk on his face. “Hello gorgeous.” He drawls, stepping forward with a determined hitch in his step. “How’d you like to ride home on a real cowboy?” He drawls out. “I’ve got a six pack on ice and my roomie’s out all night so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, darlin’.” Every other word is punctuated by a step forward. The gait of a man on the prowl as Ginger backs up.

She expected this. She did. And it’s good to see that Jack’s reaction to waking up is exactly the same as always. Except this time, there is no need for the photograph in her coat pocket. Ginger clears her throat, masking her amusement, and puts one hand on your shoulder to redirect his attention to you. “Barking up the wrong tree, cowboy,” she tells him, nudging you in front of her. “Try again.”

The confusion on Jack’s face flashes as he is redirected but he smirks and strides towards you. “Hello sugar.” His voice drops to the same sugary seductiveness he had used on Ginger, but then he freezes. Cylinders seem to fire and he straightens slightly, the lazy, uncaring posture abandoned and his eyes start to clear. “Sugar.” He breathes, more reverently this time, the nickname having the same meaning as it has since he’s bestowed it on you. “I– I was on a mission.”

“You were, love.” It takes every ounce of self-control you have not to pounce on him - not to throw your arms around him and pull him against you and never let go again. Your hands flex with it and your whole body seems to shake with the need to touch him. “Y—you got hurt…Sophia brought you back home.”

His eyes narrow slightly, trying to remember but it’s all hazy. Just slipping from his grasp like a wisp of smoke. He grunts, eyes finding yours again. “You’re here.”

“I was here when they brought you in.” You remember being a bit fuzzy when you were healed here but you hadn’t been nearly as hurt as Jack, so you try not to be scared that he seems so disoriented. Instead you reach out, gently touching his fingertips with yours. “I’m right here, Jack. You’re gonna be okay.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Jack rasps out, shaking his head. “You– you’re pregnant.” He coughs, wincing at the small ache in his newly mended side. The skin is still tender. “You need– rest.”

“I’m not.” It actually breaks your heart to say, now that you’ve sat with the reality for long enough, and seeing how it pains Jack just makes that ache deepen. “I was wrong. I’m not. Ginger checked, I promise.”

“You’re not?” He shakes his head, unsure if he’s heard you correctly or not. His head hurts, pounding and it feels like the blood is rushing his ears. Ginger had said the more often you got into the chamber, the worse the recovery would be. She’s right about that. “It’s okay–” he promises, thinking that you’re because you’re scared. “I–I don’t care if it’s mine.” He takes your hand fully, lacing his fingers with yours. “It’s your baby, a part of you, and I’m– I’m going to be there for you, for them.”

“Jack, I’m not pregnant.” Holding his hand tightly, you step closer and put your other hand to his face to cup his cheek. “It was just stress and the chamber fucking with my body after the kidnapping. Ginger can show you my scans if you don’t believe me.”

Relief and sadness wash over him in nearly equal measure. Relief because he selfishly wants you to have his baby. Not someone else’s. Sadness because he had realized after talking to Champ, he is ready to be a father. Or at least prepare to be a father again. He closes his eyes and nods, absorbing the information and covering your hand with his own.

“You need rest, love.” Sure he popped out of that chamber like a baseball shooting out of a pitching machine, but he looks…worn. You’d almost call it sad, but you brush that thought off and glance at Astrid. “Maybe Ging will let me take you home?”

“Home.” His eyes open and they slide over to Ginger. “Can I go home?” He asks quietly, not feeling exactly up to racing off on another mission just yet. Maybe he is getting old.

“I want to get a clean set of vitals, and then yes.” She nods, looking at you seriously. “You will call me the second anything about his condition changes, and you will bring him in tomorrow morning so I can give him a once over. He always tries to skip them but they’re important.”

“Absolutely,” you agree immediately, wanting Jack to be able to come home so you can take care of him. The chamber will have had some kind of effect on him that you can’t place yet, and you know you need to let him take it easy, but the idea of bringing him home seems desperately important right now.

Jack lets Ginger lead him away, checking him over as she frowns. “Am I gunna live?” He jokes weakly.

“Fortunately for the woman who hasn’t left your side for the last eight and a half hours? Yes.” Ginger pauses her examination to look up at him. “But if you take another bad hit in a mission? Between you and me, Jack, not even I might be able to bring you back next time.”

“So you’re tellin’ me it might be time to hang up my whip?” He asks seriously, aware that an agent past his prime might be more of a liability than an asset in the field.

"I'm saying you should sit down with Champ." Her lips are pursed, not enjoying having to deliver that kind of news. Not ever. "Intelligence gathering and tails might be more...appropriate choices for you at this point." Ginger sighs, pinching her eyes shut before she looks her friend in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Jack. But you've been on the brink of death three times now. That takes its toll."

Jack looks over at you, watching as you stare at him as if you could blink and he will disappear. “Haven’t had much beyond the job to live for in a long time.” He admits quietly. “But I don’t think a third soulmate is in the cards for her. And I ain’t gunna make her live without one.”

"Sit down with Champ." Ginger urges again, her voice dropping to match his. "There's a lot of valuable work you can do for this agency without being a field agent." There had never been a moment she had known Jack that Ginger ever believed that he would leave this life any other way but on a mission, but his eyes are crystal clear with the decision.

“I will.” Jack winces again and shakes his head. “But I’ll do that tomorrow. She looks like she’s about to collapse.”

"Go home. Let her dote on you. She's been worried sick since she came to me yesterday morning for a test." She shrugs with a sigh. "Since before that, from what Gabi said."

“I’ll let her dote.” Jack promises, nodding. That’s what had been bothering you, and he feels guilty for leaving and not talking to you.

"He's all yours." Ginger tells you with a bright smile. It's not her place to tell you any of what Jack is considering, or her medical opinion. But she's damn glad that Jack had a reason to fight. Without it, he might have gone out on that mission the way she always figured he would. "Don't let him do much of anything," she warns, then smirks. "Including sex. I'm telling you both, he needs forty-eight hours of rest before any exertion."

Jack pouts but it’s purely for show. Right now he’s not even sure if he could get it up, he’s feeling so out of sorts. The initial burst of energy has been quickly depleted.

"Let's go home, love." Having him released is more than you ever would have gotten in a regular hospital – you would be sitting at his bedside for a week or more. As it is, you put your arms around him and feel him sag a little, which you don't like at all. "We can curl up and nap if you want, or I can make you something to eat? Or we can just turn on a movie. Whatever you want. I'm all yours."

“I just–” Jack frowns, realizing he’s not even wearing his shirt but the scrubs they put on you when you have to have your clothes removed. “Damn, I liked that jacket too.” He huffs, knowing it must have been cut off of him.

"I can grab you something from your office?" Tequila offers, having been sitting quietly during the commotion of Jack's revival. He hadn't left your side while you waited for your soulmate to wake up, and now he just wanted to make sure that his best friend was well enough to get home before he went and reported to Champ.

“I– no, I don’t think so?” Jack frowns and shakes his head quietly. His bag was on the Statesman jet. Wherever that currently was.

"I had them take your bag back to the house," the younger man offers, knowing that an agent and his go-bag were often separated when medical emergencies happened. Frankly, the fact that Jack survived is something of a miracle. It was touch and go for far too long. "You guys go home. I'll call later to see how you're feeling, okay?"

“Thanks.” Jack reaches out and shakes Tequila’s hand. “Go home and take care of your soulmate. I think I worried her.”

“You worried all of us.” And he’ll be damned if he’s going to sugar coat that at all. Either way, Tex gives you a tight hug and waves to Ginger on his way out of the lab. He’s already texted Sophia that Jack is awake, but she’ll want a full update.

Jack turns towards you, an apology in his eyes. He’s made things hard for you and tiredness in your eyes is his fault.

“C’mon, baby.” All you care about right now is that he’s safe, and that means not letting him out of your sight for at least a few days. If you have your way he’ll be sitting in your office when you go back to work so you know he’s okay. You hold out your hand to him, gratefully sighing when he takes it and feels solid in your grasp to head for the elevator.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Jack murmurs quietly. “Didn’t think he’d get me.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” For all you know the entire incident is classified and you just have to sit on the knowledge that he was in danger, but you step into the barrel-shaped elevator together and fortunately find yourselves alone again.

Jack hesitates, not because it’s classified, it’s not. But he knows as soon as he tells you, you’re gunna blame yourself and he doesn’t want that. Ultimately the blame rests on him alone.

“If you can’t, I understand.” His hand in yours flexes and you look at him curiously, biting your lip for a second before exhaling slowly. “If there’s…some other reason you don’t want to tell me…like you had to kiss Sophia for the mission and didn’t see the guy come up on you or something like that…work is work, love. I promise I won’t be upset.”

“I didn’t kiss Sophia.” Jack sighs, knowing he needs to be honest with you. “I just need you to tell me about what has been going on with you, okay?” He asks, relieved when you nod. “Sugar, I just– I was distracted. That’s why I got hurt.”

It’s your fault. The first thought in your head when he tells you it was a distraction is that if you were the distraction then you are at fault. “I’m so sorry.” You murmur, looking down at your joined hands like he ought to be tearing away from you.

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.” Jack squeezes your hand and pulls you close. “It’s not your fault. I should have been thinkin’ about the mission. Not about somethin’ I couldn’t do anything about.”

“I should have called you the second I thought I was pregnant,” you admit quietly, listening to Jack’s heart beat with your head on his chest. “I panicked.”

“I did too.” Jack confesses quietly. “That's why I had to leave early last night.”

“Diana told me about Bobby.” This elevator ride seems to be for letting all of your secrets out, but if that’s what it needs to be then you’ll take it. “And how you went over last night. Jack, I…I was convinced you would leave me if it was anyone else’s. That’s why I got so scared. And then I realized that I don’t even know if you want to have kids…after what happened to your son.”

“I didn’t want kids.” Jack admits. “Not until the moment I figured – wrongly – that you were pregnant.”

“So…” Pulling back to look into his eyes, the doors open as soon as you’re about to open your mouth again and you stifle when you see Agent Rye waiting to enter on the ground floor. “Let’s get home,” you murmur, knowing you have a lot to talk about.

Your car isn’t here, but Jack’s Bronco is sitting in the parking lot. A testimony to just how out of sorts Jack feels is evident when he doesn’t try to get behind the wheel. Tucking him into the passenger side only takes a second, and you climb behind the wheel to make the five minute drive home. "Are you tired, honey?" He seems exhausted, but you don't know how he's feeling emotionally. Whether or not he wants to finish the conversation you were having so he can quiet his mind to actually rest. Or if he's too damn tired for it to even matter.

“Yes and no.” Jack just wants to touch you. To hold you and know that he didn’t die. That you aren’t leaving him. He had been worried you would, you’re an honorable woman and you might have thought it was best if you left if you had been pregnant. “I just– I want to lay down with you.”

"How about we cuddle up in bed and we can drift off whenever we feel like?" You reach for his hand as you drive, lacing your fingers together and holding onto him even as you rest your hand back on the gear shift. "We can keep talking if you want to, or just hang on to each other." It's enough that he's here. That Sophia brought him home to you and Astrid fixed him up, and that you can take him home to crawl into bed together. That's more than you had feared you would have even just a few hours ago.

“That sounds good, sugar.” Jack still feels off kilter, but he squeezes your hand. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

"I'm sorry I worried you." The two of you had been pretty far off base these last few days, which you haven't been in a while. That's the kind of thing that makes your stomach churn when you think about it and you don't like it one bit.

“I should have talked to you instead of trying to figure out how to fix things.” Jack can admit he was wrong, especially when all it took was a simple conversation. He could have gone with you to Ginger’s test and the thing put behind the both of you before he ever was on the mission.

"I should have told you why I was upset instead of being distant." The breathy chuckle that comes out of you is rueful, and you look over at him as you turn the Bronco into your driveway. "I think I know what we're talking about in our next therapy appointment."

“At least it will be some new form of miscommunication.” Jack jokes awkwardly.

"I don't know if that's a good thing or not." You cut the engine and lift Jack's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Let's keep this going, though. Honesty is...it's scary, but we usually do okay with it."

“I don’t want to risk losing you again.” Jack nods, sighing softly. “Let’s– let’s go inside.”

Neither of you bother to stop on the ground floor, you only take a three second detour for glasses of water to bring upstairs in case Jack gets thirsty and then you’re behind the safety of your closed bedroom door. “You’re not going to lose me,” you promise him, setting the glasses down so you can take his hands. “I was afraid to lose you. That…that if the baby wasn’t yours, you wouldn’t want either of us.”

“I was angry.” Jack won’t deny that. “But I was angry at myself. Hurt because of my own fucking stubborn pride and I–” he shrugs and closes his eyes. “Terrified because for a split second, I imagined what losing you and another baby – mine or not – would do to me.”

“I—” You blow out a breath, reminding yourself that you were the one counseling honesty just a few minutes ago. “I wasn’t going to keep it,” you admit quietly, eyes turning down to the carpet just so you don’t have to see if he reacts badly. “If it wasn’t yours. I asked Astrid if she could find out early enough.”

“Would you have told me?” Jack frowns, understanding that it would be your choice but he hopes that it wouldn’t be to hide something like that from him.

“You?” With a sigh, you nod your head. “Yes. But I wouldn’t have wanted to tell anyone else.”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to make that choice.” Even as bone-deep exhausted as he suddenly is, Jack picks up your hand and kisses it. “I need to shower. Hate how that damn machine makes me feel.”

“Do you want me to come with you, or do you want me to warm up the bed?” Sure Astrid said no sex, but that isn’t what you’re angling for. You just want the closeness and the intimacy of being beside him. You’re still skittish about letting him out of your sight.

Jack knows exactly how you feel right now. He can read it in your eyes and he remembers the need to have you with him. That if he took his eyes off of you, you would disappear. He’s sure that you are feeling the same. “Come with me, sugar?”

Pure relief relaxes your shoulders and you nod, following him into the bathroom to toss your lived-in pajamas into the laundry basket. The hospital-style scrubs that he had been put into after his clothes were cut away would just be thrown out, as disposability was a virtue of those particular items.

Jack looks back at you and then gestures. “Bath or shower?” A shower would be quicker, but he doesn’t know how you are feeling about things right now. It might be better for you to soak.

An argument could be made for either one, but crawling into bed with him and holding him in your arms feels like the right thing for right now. Plus, there’s the other thing. “Shower?” You smile a little guiltily. “If I have you naked in the bath I can’t guarantee I’ll behave myself and Astrid said no sex.”

“Shower.” Jack doesn’t want to embarrass himself by not even being able to get it up, and he doesn’t know if he could right now. “That sounds good, sugar.”

It’s just a few minutes – long enough to clean both of you up and get the blood splatter out of Jack’s hair. Whatever happened, it was far more brutal than what you had first imagined when Diana showed up at your door last night.

Jack lets you wash him, feeling a little embarrassed by how much he enjoys it. Or simply not having to do it himself. He climbs out of the shower and huffs when you dry him off, not even bothering to dress before he shuffles to the bedroom. Falling into bed is easy. You just climb under the covers and let him curl up against you, wrapping your arms around him and relishing the solid bulk pressed against your body. He’s here. He’s home. He’s alive.

“What did Ginger say to you?” You ask quietly, once you’re both settled. “While she was discharging you?”

Jack sighs, knowing that he can't hide this from you, not when it would affect you. "That I need to talk to Champ."

“About what? The accident?” Of course he needs to talk to Champ. That’s his boss and his friend. You can’t imagine why he wouldn’t, and your brows furrowed in confusion.

"She said that she doesn't know if she can pull me back the next time." Jack whispers softly. "It's the third time."

No one’s heart should be capable of breaking so many times in so few days, but you can feel yours crack again at the resignation in his voice. The fact that he already has broken again. “As in…if this happens again…that might be…it?”

"Ye–yeah." Jack sighs again. "I'm gunna talk to Champ. Tell 'em I want out of the field. I'm sorry, sugar. I should have– I should have just accepted that I didn't need to be in the field anymore."

“Need?” His choice of words makes your forehead pinch that much more, but you graze one hand over his bare back soothingly. “It’s your job, love. A job that you’ve been extremely successful at, from everything I’ve heard.”

"I needed the job before you." Jack explains softly. "I needed a high risk job that took me away from the pain, my own fucking thoughts. And I realized about two seconds after I got on the mission that I didn't want to be there."

“You don’t…want to be an agent anymore?” The idea is practically unfathomable to you, but it’s Jack’s life and his decision. What he decides to make of things is entirely up to him. All you can do is support him, though you have no idea through what.

"I don't want to leave you without a soulmate, or a widow." Jack is adamant about that. "Maybe I could go into the field if needed every now and again, but–" His arms tighten around you. "I want a future with you and I won't give that up for the thrill of a mission."

“I love you so much.” Mirroring him, your arms hold him that much closer and you bury your face in his damp hair to just breathe in the solid state of him all around you. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you. I just…I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

"Only regret I will have is if I hurt you again, sugar." Jack murmurs quietly. "I think I want to just train agents and settle down."

“Settle down, huh?” You can see Jack as a trainer. He had bitched about being stuck with the recruits but every day you’d see him come home from work satisfied with what they’d done and ready with new ideas. He hadn’t been willing to admit that he enjoyed it. At least not until now. “Are you telling me this house might get a little more crowded?” The subject of children has been breached by the last few days and it’s not the kind of thing you want to pretend didn’t happen. As much as you had been terrified to lose Jack, the idea of having a baby with him had made you feel so hopeful.

"If that's something you wanted, sugar." Jack's brow furrows and he smiles when your thumb rubs it to smooth it out. "I– I can't deny that I won't be worried. I'll probably hover like a nervous nelly."

“Would your worry outweigh any happiness it might bring you?” That’s one thing that you never would have even thought of before him - that the amount of worry your soulmate might have over you being pregnant or having a young child might be far greater than the joy of having a family.

"Before yesterday I would have said yes." Jack tells you honestly. "But– I just– I can't explain it. I was terrified and happy, sad and eager all at the same time."

“Things can change in the blink of an eye,” you remind him, that same gentle worry in your voice. “Second soulmates and second chances…it’s all a lot of things you didn’t think you’d have again. But I…I’m glad that you want to build a life, love. I would have understood if you never wanted to be a parent again. But I— while Ginger had me under the scanner, I just kept thinking…if it was yours, I would have been over the moon.”

Emotions stick in his throat, making him have to swallow as he nods. He would have been happy about that too. "I– I would have come out of the field then, too." He promises, knowing that missions are tough on a soulmate, especially hard if they are pregnant.

“Can I ask you something?” You were never brave enough to bring it up before, not wanting to upset him, but the proverbial can of worms has already been dumped everywhere anyway. You may as well try.

“Anything, sugar.” Jack’s eyes are closed and his fingers brush your bare back encouragingly.

“I wondered, that’s all.” As comforting as you’re trying to be, you've also made yourself quite nervous. “If…you had ever picked a name for your son?”

"We had." Jack murmurs softly. "She was due in less than seven weeks when they were...killed." He knows you want to know what the name is. "We had decided on Timothy, Timothy Charles. Charles was my daddy's name."

“If you still want to honor him if we have a boy, we can absolutely do that.” You promise him, blinking back some water that is rising behind your eyes. “I just…I didn’t want to accidentally suggest a name to you one day and have it be the one you had already picked out. That’s all.”

"You are thoughtful, sugar." He murmurs quietly, opening his eyes to stare into yours. "I'm grateful that you understand." The happiness and joy of choosing names is more bittersweet than it had been before. Smiling softly as he remembers how Abigail had worried over it for weeks until they decided.

“When my sister and her husband were picking out names for their kids it was a whole chaotic thing.” At times it had seemed to be even more stressful for Eliza than carrying the babies themselves, which seemed crazy. But now you look at it and it doesn’t seem odd at all – even just two days of thinking about it made you realize that was a whole entire person who was going to have that name. That’s an enormous responsibility. “Whatever changes come, we’ll manage. You’ll talk to Champ about coming out of the field, I’ll keep my head down at the restaurant and really get things going. When you’re ready to talk about trying for a baby, then we’ll take that step as well.”

Jack bites his lip, nodding and then he sighs softly. "Um, sugar?" He ventures. He knows you are tired, but the need to eat something has hit him out of nowhere and it feels like his stomach is about to eat itself through to his spine. "I'm going to go fix myself a sandwich."

“Okay…” It’s not that it’s unusual to snack or anything like that, but you frown for a second. “Do you want me to make you something to eat? Like actually cook something?”

"You're tired." Jack protests, although the thought of your food has him nearly drooling. Especially your take on shrimp and grits. "I can live with a sandwich."

“How about I make a big dinner tonight?” It’s a compromise, and you tend to be good at those. “Have a sandwich now and we’ll take a nap. And then tonight I’ll make you whatever you want for dinner and tell you about the good parts of New York.”

"That sounds good." Jack nods but he doesn't make any more to get out of the bed. He wants to, but he just doesn't.

“Less hungry than you thought?” When he doesn’t move, you shift in bed and give him a once over to make sure everything is okay.

"Just...slow." Jack draws, sending you a slow grin and blinking just as slow.

“I don’t think Ginger wants you moving too fast anyway.” As long as he’s safe, that’s all that matters to you. Jack’s safety is paramount.

Eventually, Jack pulls back, slowly unwinding his arms from around you. He wouldn't do it at all, but he is hungry and he needs to get something in his stomach. "You gunna come with me, or stay here?"

“I’ll come with you.” As tired as you are, it’s much easier for you to pop out of bed and throw on your bathrobe to wander after him. And you’re not one to say no to a snack.

Jack doesn't bother with clothes, just striding downstairs in the buff, albeit slower than he normally moves. Moving to the fridge and opening it up. He knows you keep all kinds of goodies in the fridge now.

“What are you thinking?” Normally there’s a container of crawfish salad in your fridge at all times but Jack seems to have demolished the last one. “Something small or something filling?”

“I don’t know.” He admits as he pokes around the fridge. “I had thought of shrimp and grits, and then the crawfish salad but I ate that for dinner while you were gone.”

"I can make shrimp and grits for dinner if you want." It's a little more involved than just a sandwich, especially the way you make it, but you pull out an airtight container of roasted chicken and hold it up with a grin. "Waldorf chicken salad sandwich?" It was one of the things that didn't end up on the Rabbit Hole menu, but Jack had loved. Roast chicken salad with tarragon, grapes, toasted walnuts, and sliced celery is fresh but filling.

Jack groans and nods happily. “Yes, that sounds amazing.” He wants to sit down but he moves towards the bread bin. “Sourdough or everything?” He asks, his eyes rolling back at the thought of the chicken salad on an everything bagel.

"You know I believe chicken salad belongs on a bagel." To date, Jack seems to be the one person in the world who believes that as much as you do, and had accordingly taken you to what he considered the best bagel place in Louisville for breakfast one morning soon after you had moved in.

“Everything it is.” Jack pulls out the fresh bagels and moves over to the toaster to twist them open and toast them to perfection.

He makes an obscene noise when you shove a container of cookies aside on the counter to make room for your cutting board and you smile at him, feeling more worry slide away as you see your Jack shine through after his accident. "Appetite out of nowhere, huh?" You tease gently. "You sure Ginger's machine didn't make you pregnant this time?"

“Isn’t there a movie about that?” Jack asks with a grin as he snags a red velvet cookie with cream cheese chips. “Mr. Mom, or something? I might be pregnant.”

"Junior." The man has been through a near-death experience, so you just push the cookies over to him and let him enjoy while you chop things up for the chicken salad. It does, though, make you think. And you look over at him with curiosity. "Jack Junior, yay or nay?"

"Would you want a Junior?" Jack chomps down on half the cookie and looks at you curiously. "That was shot down quickly the first time, so I get that some people don't like it."

"I dunno, I kinda like it." You've always been into the idea of honoring family members with name choice. A lot of cultures take it very seriously and you find it to be a really sweet way of saying that someone is important to you. "Jack Charles has a ring to it. For you and your father? It's just a thought."

“Jackson.” Jack mumbles quietly, stuffing the rest of his cookie into his mouth.

"Jackson?" It doesn't quite register at first, but about five full seconds later you put your knife down and tilt your head at him. "Do you mean to tell me we're engaged to be married and I didn't know your real first name?"

“Never went by it.” Jack winces and sends you a small grin. “Jackson Wyatt Daniels.” He’s never gone by anything but Jack, never even really thinks about his real name.

"That is the most cowboy-ass stupidly sexy name I've ever heard." You nearly burst out laughing at your own reaction, but you swear if Jack was feeling up to it you'd be leaning over this kitchen counter right the hell now. For some reason it just perfectly conjured the image of horses and sunsets and campfires in your mind and all but has your mouth watering.

“Yeah? You like my stupidly sexy ‘cowboy-ass name’?” He chuckles and reaches for another cookie.

"We don't have cowboys in New Hampshire," you remind him with a pout before refocusing on making his sandwich. "Stupidly sexy or otherwise. And I love your name. So much that I will definitely have Jackson at the top of my baby name list if we ever have a boy."

“If you want to name him Jackson, that’s okay with me.” Just because Jack didn’t use his full name, didn’t mean a son wouldn’t.

"And if you want to name a little girl, that's fine with me." His bagel pops out of the toaster a second later and you lean over to kiss him when you grab it. You fill the two halves up with prepared chicken salad and slide the plate over to him to enjoy.

“I think we should name ‘em together, don’t you?” He asks, smiling at the idea. “Though I’ve always kinda liked the name Emily.”

"I have an aunt Emily who's not exactly the nicest person. She would tell everyone in the world that we named the baby after her and try to be her godmother or something." This, apparently, is exactly the kind of reason to share the decision together, and you gather things up in your arms to bring them back to the fridge while Jack eats. "Maybe a middle name? Or a variant like Amelia or Emeline?"

"Never mind. No Emily." Jack shakes his head, crossing that name off his list. "What's been a name you've always liked?"

With everything put away, you grab a cookie from the open container beside him and hum at the thought. It's both unconventional and very conventional at the same time, depending on who you are. "I always liked Scout," you tell him, nibbling at the cookie. "Like from To Kill a Mockingbird?"

"Scout, hmm?" Jack tilts his head and thinks about it. "It's...unusual" He has to give you that. He's distracted by taking another bite of his bagel sandwich and moaning softly at the deliciousness of it.

"It's okay if you don't like it." It's not like you have your heart set on it, and apparently picking a name for a girl will be slightly more difficult than deciding to name your son after his father.

"What about naming her after your grandmother?" Jack asks, tapping your bracelet on your wrist. "Charles is after his grandpa if it's a boy. We can honor your grandma with a girl."

"Jane?" It's a wonderful thought, one that has you moving in to put your arms around him in a tight hug of gratitude. "I think that would be beautiful. Jane Daniels is a very sweet name."

"You like that?" He asks, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“I love it.” On any other day you might get lost in that kiss, letting it linger and turn exploratory, but the both of you are bone tired and Ginger’s word is law, so you back off to let him finish eating. “Guess we’re all ready for it to happen, then. Down the line.”

"When is up to you." Jack murmurs softly. "You are the one with the restaurant to run."

“Let’s at least get you settled into whatever you new role is going to be.” With big changes in the horizon, throwing lots of new things at Jack all at once doesn’t seem fair in the least. “Talk to Champ, I’ll have Astrid give me a full physical to make sure I’m in good shape, and then we’ll look at family planning. Does that…sound okay?” It really is the definition of family planning, but now that you’ve had a taste of what the expected could feel like, you feel a lot better about a schedule than a surprise.

“That sounds good to me, sugar.” Jack pops the last bite of the bagel sandwich in his mouth and reaches for another cookie. “Still hungry. Damn.”

“That thing really did a number on your appetite, huh?” You’re a little too timid to ask if this is normal in any way for someone who has been so close to death – like his body trying to take in all the calories he needs to regain his strength very quickly.

“I guess.” Jack grunts, shoving the whole cookie into his mouth. “It’s like I’m a teenager again. Hunger-wise.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for acne and a pile of used tissues on your side of the bed.” There are plenty of cookies, thankfully, and you make a mental note to do some more baking tonight so he can at least enjoy his appetite.

Jack snorts and shakes his head. "I think that I've thought about sex less in the past two hours than I probably ever have."

“Then we won’t worry about that for now.” If nothing else, your neighbors will be spared the noise for a bit. “But if it doesn’t come back, make sure you tell Astrid. That’s definitely a side effect.”

"A damn embarrassin' one." Jack huffs, looking down at his flaccid cock. "Looks like a damn traitor to me."

“It’s better.” Or at least it’s not worse, and you throw Jack a grin. “You’re not allowed to indulge for at least two days, so it’s probably better that he’s taking a nap now and not when we are trying to make little humans.”

"Never let me down until now." He huffs, rolling his eyes. "I woulda broken Ging's rule. She knows it too."

“No one’s ever accused you of being well-behaved.” You smirk at him, seeing him finally take a breath again after killing the rest of the container of cookies. “Feel better? Or still hungry? I promise to make shrimp and grits tonight.”

"Now I want that nap." Jack is tried, weary is a more apt word. But just like he had when you had been released from the hyperbaric chamber, all he wants to do is wrap his arms around you and sleep.

“Then let’s go upstairs.” The kitchen is tidy enough, and you’re only going to make a mess of it later, so you leave things as they are and offer him your hand. “We could both do with a good nap in each other’s arms.”

“That’s the best damn idea I’ve heard, sugar.” Jack admits as he reaches for you. “I just want to hold you.”

“I am all for that.” After all, you barely slept the night after you got back from New York, and not at all last night. If not for your extended nap yesterday you’d be running on empty. “I am absolutely all for that.”

******

“Jack.” Champ turns from the bar cart, relieved to see his friend looking like himself. He had learned about his recovery through Tex but hadn’t wanted to intrude while you and he were holed up in the house. “Good to see you looking spry.” He motions Jack closer and holds up a bottle of Reserve. “Tempt you?”

Jack chuckles and nods. “Please. Need to talk to ya.”

“Sounds serious.” The last serious conversation they had had was about a baby, and from the determined set of Jack’s jaw, it could certainly have been unhappy news. “Everything okay?” He asks, pouring them each a glass.

“Yes and no.” Jack won’t deny that he’s upset that he needs to come out of the field, but recovering from injury has felt like he was going through a meat grinder and he wants to avoid leaving you alone in the world. “Need to talk to you about the last mission.”

“Agent Isolde briefed me fully.” The elder of the two men puts both glasses down on either side of his desk with a frown and sits, motioning for Jack to do the same. To say he had been less than thrilled with the injury of one of his best agents would be an understatement, but at least their goal had been achieved. “But I take it you want to discuss something that won’t be in your report?”

“Ginger’s basically said she doesn’t know if she can fix me next time ‘round.” Jack tells Champ bluntly, not willing to beat around the bush. “So I think it’s best if we reevaluate my role here in the operations side of Statesman.”

"Well, that ain't how I thought I would start my day." Champ grumbles, deflating slightly in his chair as he picks up his glass and knocks back half the contents in one go. "Gotta admit, Jack. Part of me didn't think you'd ever come out of the field unless it was in shreds, and it sounds like that's what happened this last time."

“Before…before her, I anticipated being carried out of the field in a box.” Jack admits. “You know I lived for the job, Champ. I ain’t quittin’ on ya. But I can’t make her go through losin’ another soulmate.”

"And I respect the hell out of that." Folding his hands in front of him on the desk, Champ examines his friend. "But I can't have you resentin' your work, either. Decision's gotta be for you. Not her."

“I’m makin’ the call.” Jack assures him. “She was just as flabbergasted as you are, but it’s not the same as when I was out for the tattoo. It’s my choice. I–I want to build a life with her and I can’t do that if she’s visitin’ my memorial.”

"Ain't very often we actually pay out Field Agent Pensions to the agent themselves instead of the spouse." It's not never, but it certainly is unusual. Champ sighs inwardly and meets Jack's eyes. "As far as what you’re capable of, you can do pretty well anything you want," he tells him. "You've earned that right."

He’s glad that Champ is being so accommodating to him. “I still want to be on standby in case something happens where the young’uns need back up.” Jack tells Champ. “But I was thinkin’ about goin’ back to trainin’.”

“If Ginger’s concerned about keeping you out of the line of fire, we’ll take it slow on your standby status.” There is always the chance of something going wrong, as Jack well knows, but Champ won’t shut him out entirely. He does smile, though, amused by the choice. “But training, huh? After you bitched and moaned about being with the recruits, you wanna school ‘em?”

Jack rolls his eyes, blowing out a sigh and crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back. “Knew you’d give me shit about it.” He grumbles under his breath. The training hadn’t been bad, he’d just chafed at it being someone else’s choice. So he’d bitched on principle. “Gotta make sure the next group doesn’t embarrass the hell outta us.”

“If that’s what you want, I’m not gonna object to you bein’ with the new agents. They could learn a thing or two from somebody with your experience.” For that matter, it didn’t always happen that somebody with Jack’s body of work made it to an age where they could become a trainer at all. They had both expected him to come out of the field in tatters for a reason. “I’ll talk to Merlot. She’s got different specialities than you anyway and you could be a good team as trainers.”

“You good with this?” Jack asks seriously, raising a brow at his old friend and boss. “I’ll still be the damn face of this thing. Everyone else is too ugly.”

“I should make you turn in your title,” Champ reminds him, leaning back in his chair. “Take you out of the field and make somebody else Agent Whiskey.” He doesn’t want to, though, and since he’s in charge he can make that decision himself. “Thing is, I’ve been having my own thoughts about Statesman lately.”

“Yeah?” Jack uncrosses his arms and leans forward. “What are you thinking?” He asks, frowning slightly.

“Thinkin’ I’m gettin’ old,” Champ chuckles, topping off both of their glasses and leveling his friend with a serious look. “Got ideas in my head about stepping back, but there wasn’t anyone to trust with runnin’ the place until about five minutes ago.”

Jack’s jaw drops open, never imagining Champ retiring anytime soon. “And someone just came to mind five minutes ago, huh?” He asks, picking up his drink and taking a sip of the smooth whiskey.

"Five minutes, two minutes, I don't know how long ago your stubborn ass strolled in here. I was tryin' to be dramatic." Champ huffs, rolling his eyes at Jack and sipping his drink. "Point is, I was about your age when I stepped up to this post, and I don't fancy wasting my retirement on years where I need help wipin' my ass." He shifts in his seat, drawing up to his fullest height like it was a matter of dignity. And maybe it is. "Things around here are changing, Jack. And as much as I like to pretend I ain't any different than I used to be, I'm movin' a lot slower these days. Now Diana won't be retiring anytime soon and that's fine, but I could. I could step back and let somebody else take this office and I'd be happy as a pig in shit tinkering away in R&D making new weapons for the agents coming in."

“You did make some damn fine weapons.” Jack draws with a smirk. His own whip was Champ’s creation and he was awfully fond of it. “So what you’re sayin’ is that you wanna saddle me with the headache of wranglin’ agents while you drink whiskey and play with toys.”

"Hell yes I do." That makes him laugh, genuinely belly laugh, and Champ sits back again feeling a little more relaxed. "You can say no, Jack. But I don't think I want to hand the mantle of Agent Champagne off to anybody else."

“Those are mighty big fuckin’ boots to fill.” Jack leans back and gauges his old friend’s face. The idea has merit. He’s actually pretty damn good at the administrative side no matter how much it irks him. Probably a little rougher around the edges than Champ, but that’s just due to him still thinking like a field agent. “Let me talk to her?” He asks, knowing that he wouldn’t expect anything less from Jack. “But start having Diana plan your retirement party.”

"I think we'll have a mighty fine new Agent Whiskey." The mischief on Champ's face is obvious, and he knows it'll take some getting used to for everyone but he won't mind leaving his old moniker behind now. Not now that he's got Jack to trust with it.

“And who are you thinkin’ that will be?” Jack’s brow ticks up curiously.

"Don't know if she told you." It would surprise him if it hadn't been mentioned, but things have been a little tumultuous lately, he gathers. "But Sophia applied to be a permanent fixture at Statesman."

“Yeah….” Jack grins. “You want to make the Brit Agent Whiskey?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “That’ll be just perfect. The next Whiskey’ll run roughshod over Tequila just like I did.”

“What do you want me to do? Gin is already taken.” Both men share a laugh over the irony of the choice, but Champ has to admit that it feels right to him. Sophia is a strong agent who fits into the fabric of Statesman better than some of the damn American recruits they’ve had. She’s got the – as Jack says – roughshod tendencies of a cowboy and the tenacity of six men all packed into one woman. “Go talk to your better half,” he encourages. “I’m gonna look over the list of inactive monikers for myself so you don’t try to make me Iced Tea or some damn thing.”

Jack snorts and tosses back the rest of his drink and slides the glass across the table. “Could always call you Arnold Palmer.” He teases, referencing the concoction of half iced tea, half lemonade.

“Get out,” Champ huffs, shaking his head as he guffaws unapologetically. “While I can still kick ya out, I’m gonna.”

Jack nods and stands, eager to go talk to you and see what you think. He knows you will tell him to do whatever he wants, but he wants to include you in this decision.

******

Being gone for a few days means that things at the restaurant need checking over, but Diana and your staff had things running smoothly enough in your absence. What’s left to do today is the ordering, so you’re hunkered down at your desk with a cup of tea and one of yesterday’s leftover scones to look over the books and make sure that you’ll be getting in what you need for the coming week. Tedious? Maybe. But after the last few days you welcome it.

The smell of your coconut cake cooling hits Jack’s nose as he opens the door, making him groan happily. “Sugar?” He calls out, striding through the empty dining room. “You here?”

“In my office!” You call out, not looking up and grinning when you hear your pastry staff greeting Jack on his way through the kitchen. When he hits your doorway he’s almost beaming and you’re glad to see his meeting with Champ went well. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Daniels?”

“Just wanted to see my sugar, sugar.” He teases, although he may have swiped a tea cake on his way by. The hunger still comes in waves. “And talk to you about somethin’ important.”

“Oh?” Important but not bad, judging from his demeanor. That’s good. “Come on in and shut the door. I could use a break before my eyes cross.”

He dutifully closes the door, but he doesn’t sit. Instead he comes up behind you and rubs your shoulders sympathetically as he peers over at your order. “Paperwork?”

“Weekly order.” You hum, affecting a frown but not feeling it. “So yeah, paperwork in a way.”

“Gotcha.” He smirks when you moan, his fingers digging into a knot right in your shoulders. “So I talked to Champ about the training. But he’s not so sure that’s what he wants me to do.”

“No?” It’s hard to be upset about anything with Jack giving you a massage, but you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. “He wants you to stay in the field? Even with what Ginger said?”

“Nah. He wants to retire.” Jack hums. “He wants me to become Agent Champagne.”

“What?!” Immediately turning around in your chair, you’re gaping at Jack with your mouth wide open at how casually he says it. “H—he just…can he do that? Do you even want that??” It’s never been anything that he had discussed with you, and you have to wonder if this is just something that happens every few decades or if Champ and Jack really are so close that one man would just hand it off to the next like this. Like a plane dropping out of midair without warning.

“Champ came out of the field and took the role when he was my age.” Jack admits, shuffling over and perching on the edge of your desk. “I already did a lot of paperwork as the senior field agent, so it will be more administrative. Handling the agents and assigning missions.” He explains. “Champ wants to tinker in R&D again – where he worked best – and turn the day to day over to me.”

“Baby…” Sitting back, you can’t help but take in the way Jack seems to downright glow with this new development. He’s bursting at the seams with pride and grinning like a madman and you can see the excitement rolling off him in waves. “You look excited. If this is what you want to do – taking this big promotion and being in charge of it all? It’s your decision, and I’m one hundred percent behind whatever you decide.”

“I knew you were gonna say that.” He rolls his eyes playfully and leans in. “Are you sure? That means I’m home all the time.”

“Is that supposed to deter me?” You grin back, ticking one eyebrow up at him. “Getting to see my fiancé isn’t a chore, ya know.”

“You say that now but you might get tired of me.” Jack chuckles again and leans in to kiss you. “So that’s a yes? To becoming the old man in the whiskey bottle?”

“Honestly?” You look up at him seriously, accepting a second kiss when he leans in again. “You’re gonna be home instead of out there with your neck on the line. We can have nights and weekends, we can plan vacations, and we can have a stable environment for the kids when they eventually are born. As long as you’re happy, it sounds pretty perfect to me.”

“Picture perfect, sugar.” Jack winks and presses his lips to yours. “You’re gunna have your happily ever after.” He murmurs against your lips. “Starting on your next day off.”

“The very next one, huh?” He’s excited, and his kisses have an addictive quality like this that you just can’t deny. “We gonna celebrate?”

“Figured we could.” He smirks at you and lifts a brow. “Scheduled us both some appointments.”

“Appointments?” Ah, this is the other reason he’s excited. “What are you treating us to, Agent Champagne?”

“Well, since I will officially not be going back in the field…” Jack shrugs, wondering if you will love or hate the idea. “I figured we could put that ink back on your pretty skin.”

“Jack.” It hadn’t even occurred to you, but he’s right. If he’s taken a desk job – for lack of a better term – then there is no reason to not have that mark returned to your arm. But the fact that he thought of it so immediately is so sweet you could cry. “Are you sure?”

“Appointments are booked.” Jack confirms, raising his brows. “Unless you want to wait?” He asks, unsure if maybe your own perception of him wearing your marks have changed since New York.

“No, no, I don’t.” You promise him quickly. “I want to have our marks back. I just wanted to be sure that it’s what you want, too.”

“Sugar….” Jack picks up your arm and turns it over so he can press his lips to the patch of skin above your elbow where the tattoo used to sit. “I want to wear your marks. Every one of them.”

The smile you shoot at him is mischievous and you squeeze his hand. “Does that mean I can get more?” You tease.

His eyes widen and he looks scared for a moment. “Where?”

“Nowhere that’s going to hurt.” Or hurt worse, anyway. “But I had always planned on having my family’s names on me somewhere, when I eventually met my soulmate or had kids on my own.”

“So I would wear my own name?” He tilts his head and snickers. “People will accuse me of being a narcissist.”

“I had a plan for a little family tree…” you explain, starting to feel silly about the whole thing. “We don’t have to, honey. It was a long ago thought and it’s more than enough that you’re okay with having my playing card back.”

“I’m teasing you.” Jack promises, grinning. “Where do you want to put it?”

“O-on my thigh.” Your hand goes to the place automatically, tracing where you had thought the roots of the tree would sit. “So this is what it’s gonna be like, huh?” If he is going to tease you, you’re going to tease him right back. “You’re gonna have to burn off all that energy you would use chasing bad guys by teasing me?”

“That or keep you tied to the bed with my lasso.” Jack hums. Actual restraints haven’t been used so far but you’ve talked about that little fantasy and how you still want to try it when you are ready.

“Adventures in baby making,” you joke with a smirk. “I’m not going to be mad about more sex.”

“Want to make a baby in my new office?” He waggles his brows playfully.

“I kinda always wondered how sturdy that desk is.” It’s playful now, the easy joking and teasing, and you lean in to brush the tip of his nose with yours. “I also wonder how sturdy my desk is.”

“Hmmm we will have to find that out.” Jack hums. Later. He still hasn’t even popped wood yet and if Ginger hadn’t put him through a full physical earlier, he would be worried.

“I guess we will.” It’s nothing to pressure him about, but you do steal another kiss. “I’m having dinner with Sophia tonight to talk about wedding things. Maybe we can have dinner to celebrate your promotion tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, sugar.” Jack murmurs softly. “If you want, I can get something from Ginger to…help things?” He asks. It’s embarrassing as hell; but he would do it if his fingers or his tongue aren’t enough.

“I don’t mind waiting, baby. I promise.” After all, recovering from an injury takes time. And his injuries were severe. “Just be prepared for me to want to ride my cowboy when you’re feeling up to it.”

“It wouldn’t take long if my traitorous cock would listen to my mind and heart.” Jack huffs. His lack of sex drive has nothing to do to his attraction to you, you’re still gorgeous to him. Sexy and appealing.

“We have all the time in the world.” It’s actually a relief, of sorts, to think that Jack will stay home and safe. That you will have all the time in the world. “No reason to rush.”

“I just don’t want you thinkin’ I don’t want you.” Jack admits quietly.

“I don’t think that.” Your voice softens, hearing the confession, and you place both of your hands on his knees. “We’ve both been through hell lately, physically. It’s not so bad for us to rest a little before we go back to our favorite cardio routine.”

“Good.” He’s relieved that you don’t believe that. Closing his eyes and smiling softly. “We did pack a lot of sex into a small window, didn’t we?”

“As often as humanly possible,” you snicker in amusement. “We got every room in the house pretty quickly.”

“He better work before we move.” Jack grunts. “That’s a lot of rooms to christen.”

That makes you sit back again, and you tilt your head at him. “We’re moving?”

“The house comes with the title, sugar.” Jack realizes you don’t know. “Diana and Champ will move into another, smaller house and we will move into theirs.”

“Damn…” You shake your head, offering him an impressed expression and squeezing his thighs gently with both hands. “So someone else will take over as Senior Field Agent and CEO, and you’ll take over as Director and Owner.”

“It’s weird to think about, but yeah.” Jack chuckles as he realizes that’s what his titles would be.

"For what it's worth, I'm proud of you." Both thumbs rub soft, reassuring circles on his jeans just above his knees. "Being the right person to run Statesman is no small achievement."

“I hope I can do him justice.” Jack admits, flashing you a smile. “For all his laid back attitude, Champ is a hell of a boss. I hope to be the same.”

******

For all the big and small changes, for all the adjustments and moving and settling in, spring turned to summer with grace. Tourist traffic ramped up, the restaurant got busier, and the demands of Jack’s new position all kept you both busy until suddenly it was time for Tex and Sophia to get married. It seemed to sneak up on you all at once, and yet nothing was too rushed or too unprepared.

A beautiful ceremony in the converted barn became a reception that seemingly spilled out over every inch of the campus, with twinkling lights and cheerful music filling the late June night. The towering green geode wedding cake you made them was a beast to cut, but you return to Jack’s side triumphantly with two plates after conquering the giant confection. “Dessert is served,” you announce with a grin, having slipped a slice of the key lime cheesecake that he and Sophia both adore onto your plates alongside the caramel apple flavored cake.

“God.” Jack groans, snatching up his fork. “I love your cakes.” He moans as he forks up a bite of the cheesecake.

“I think I’m going to make our wedding cake,” you tell him, glad that his mouth is full and he can’t immediately object. “They’re big and they’re showy and they’re fun.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asks, unsure of if that is the best idea. He knows that planning a wedding is stressful.

“I won’t do it alone. I’ll have an assistant for it, and if I get overwhelmed, I’ll have them finish it for me.” Truth be told, you’ve barely started nailing down the planning for your own wedding, having spent the last two months focusing on Tex and Sophia’s emerald paradise. “But I’d like to do something with my own two hands for the day, if I can.”

“Sugar, it’s whatever you want.” Jack promises. “The wedding of the new Director of Statesman is a big deal after all. You make it as fancy or as homey as you want. Long as you marry me, I’m good as gold.”

His promotion and Rick Rogers’ retirement has been big news, and though Jack hasn’t adopted Champ as a nickname the way his predecessor did, he is still easily recognizable as the big man on campus. “Between Diana and me, planning will be a breeze. All you boys will have to do is show up.”

“Well, that’s a damn relief.” Jack snorts with a grin, forking up a bite of the cake to feed to you. “Is this the kind of cake you want at your wedding? Or do you want a giant coconut cake?”

“I think it has to be coconut cake, don’t you?” It’s a family favorite and Jack’s favorite, so it seems like the logical answer. “But I think our alternate dessert should have whiskey in it. Just because.”

“What about a chocolate whiskey cake? With strawberries.” Jack offers. “Or…we have whiskey and coconut cream shooters to go with the cake?”

“Would you want a groom’s cake?” It’s not something you’d discussed yet, but it has a distinct charm to it. “You could have a chocolate groom’s cake with whiskey caramel buttercream? Or something like that.”

“You tryin’ to seduce me all over again, sugar?” Jack groans, rolling his eyes dramatically at the thought of that cake. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have that too. Although I would want to save a piece for later on to share with you.”

“We’ll freeze a little bit of each for our anniversary.” It was something your parents always talked about having done, and you had thought it was such a sweet way to honor the day — pun very much intended. “How about that?”

“We’ll need to store it good.” Jack chuckles. “Otherwise it’ll be freezer burnt.” His cake with Abigail had been, and they had each taken one bite before spitting it out and laughing at how horrible it tasted. “Have you decided when?” He asks softly, wearing a small smirk. “So I know when you want to start tryin’ for that first little cowboy?”

“If it gets freezer burnt, I’ll make cupcakes,” you promise him with a grin. “I…I was thinking spring? A nice, long engagement so we can plan with the least possible stress.”

“Well, you know I’ll be here to help wherever you want to me.” He doesn’t expect you to plan the entire thing yourself. “And I’ve already got half our honeymoon planned.”

“Oh yeah?” That has you smiling a little more broadly and raising an eyebrow at him as you fork up a bite of caramel apple cake to feed him. “But we didn’t pick out where we’d go for a spring wedding.”

“Well damn, we didn’t.” Jack sends you an amused glance. “So where am I keeping you in bed for half the day?”

“You tell me,” you smirk at him. “Since you already have it half planned, apparently.”

He thinks about it for a moment and grins. “South America. Brazil, Chile, Peru, Argentina.” He decides. “How does that sound?”

There’s a momentary pause where you practically vibrate in your chair as you get more and more excited, thinking through how many intricacies of cuisines, gorgeous beaches, and wonderful sights there are in that stunning part of the world. “It sounds amazing!” You squeak, throwing one arm around him tightly. “Suddenly I’m extra glad you won an extra honeymoon week from our bet.”

Jack chuckles and doesn’t miss the opportunity to hold you close and kiss you. He had another surprise for you later. “You like that, huh?”

“Very romantic,” you commend with a hum, happy to be glued to his side. Since his sex drive returned he’s been absolutely insatiable. “Just be ready for me to bargain with every abuelita we meet for their family recipes.”

“I already anticipated that.” Jack chuckles. “I’ve ordered you a ‘Honeymoon Recipe’ book to jot down all the recipes in.”

“Jack Daniels.” There’s awe and gratitude in your voice when you pull back to look him in the eyes. “That might be one of the sexiest things you’ve ever said to me.”

The laugh he lets out draws the attention of quite a few of the guests, but he doesn’t care, pulling you in for a hug. “Sexiest, huh?” He teases. “How worked up will you get if I start readin’ a recipe to ya?”

“Depends what it’s for.” Practically in his lap at your table, you smirk at him and leave a kiss on his cheek. “Chocolate mousse is a lot sexier than oatmeal.”

“If I hadn’t promised you a dance, I would be sweet talking you out of here with the recipe for lemon curd.” He teases.

“Okay, but lemon curd is actually deceptively easy—” You start in, completely in earnest, only catching yourself when he smirks at you. “I was supposed to hone in on the dancing and sweet talking part of that and not the recipe, wasn’t I?”

“Yes you were, sugar.” Jack chuckles again and stands up, holding out his hand to you. “Come dance with me and you can tell me all about the lemon curd you’re gonna add to the menu.”

The band is playing something slow, and you abandon your table and empty dessert plates happily to take his hand. Any dance with Jack is a good one, but something romantic is even better. “I have been thinking about it,” you laugh, letting him pull you into his arms on the dance floor.

“I figured.” Jack hums, smiling at you. “There’s been a hundred pounds of lemons in our kitchen.”

“The privilege of having a chef for a soulmate is getting to be a taste tester,” you remind him, Batting your eyelashes as though it takes convincing for him to agree.

“As long as you make me some lemon pancakes.” Jack hums. “With honey butter.”

“Is that what you want for breakfast tomorrow?” Swaying in his arms is such a safe place that you soften and giggle without a thought for anything else in the world. “I can do that.”

“That sounds good and brunchy, doesn’t it?” Jack muses. “Because I have every intention of not letting you out of the bed until at least noon.”

“Oh, is that so?” It sounds perfect, and a generous way to spend the morning after your close friends’ wedding. They’ll be jetting off to Tahiti and you’ll be snug in Jack’s arms in bed. “In that case I’m making sausage, too. Sounds like we’ll need our strength,” you tease with a wink.

“We need to strategize our baby making routine.” Jack teases, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against your neck. “Want to make sure we have it perfected for when you go off the birth control.”

“Put the man behind a desk and suddenly life is full of missions.” It makes things feel like little adventures, though, which you can’t object to.

“So you don’t want me to show you the sexy little plug I got you?” Jack asks, lifting a brow as he pulls away to see your reaction.

"You–" That is a very unexpected thing for him to say, and you can't help the way you smirk when you raise an eyebrow at him. "Are we talking anal plug or pussy plug? I'm in either way, I'm just curious."

“Well now that you say that…” Jack jokes. “I was talkin’ about a pussy plug, but I see I need to go back to that store.”

"Maybe we should go together." It's certainly something you haven't done before, and would probably lead to rampant fucking for the rest of the day afterward, so it sounds like a damn good plan to you.

He smirks and winks at you. “I think we should do that, sugar. But we don’t need to worry about whips or lassos.” He teases. “I’ve got that covered.”

"Yes, you definitely do." The bedroom-approved ones are definitely different from the ones that hang in his office every day, but they are much more fun for being that much less dangerous. "And I'm a very big fan of how well you use them."

Things have become a little more adventurous where restraints are concerned. After talking about it in therapy, safe words and the light system were put into place so you could feel secure in exploring that with Jack. He made sure to constantly check in with you, not wanting you to have any sort of pressure to push past things and do it for him. “You feelin’ like usin’ ‘em tonight?”

"We could do that." Adventurous sex on somebody else's wedding night sounds perfect, actually, and you lean in a little closer to kiss the sensitive skin on the edge of his jaw. "Might even dodge a noise complaint with our neighbors at this party all night long."

“It’s always funny to me.” Jack admits with a chuckle. “Means they are envious.”

"We should see if we can't find Joe a date now and then," you smirk, barely holding back a giggle. Agent Rye had taken up the mantle of Senior Field Agent and Statesman CEO at Jack's insistence, and that meant that he had moved into your old house next door.

“Man should be able to find his own dates.” Jack huffs playfully. “Don’t understand.”

The song has changed, but it's still sweet and slow so you and Jack have just kept swaying together. "Not everybody is as effortlessly charming and handsome as you are, baby."

“Wondering if Rye might not be the relationship type.” Jack hums, looking over at where he was sitting and talking to Sophia’s parents.

"Maybe not. That's okay, too." The man may have helped save your life in New York, but you were really only just getting to know him now. "But maybe we'll make sure there are plenty of eligible ladies and gentlemen at the Fourth of July party just in case."

“Absolutely.” Jack thinks that it’s sweet that you want all your friends to be happy in relationships. “I think that’ll be a good idea.”

"Hey..." Reaching up, you brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead and smile softly. He looks so fucking handsome in the moonlight like this, but his hand on your back is barely above your ass and it's got you thinking distinctly private thoughts. "You wanna get out of here, cowboy?"

His grin is quick and dirty, nodding eagerly. “Yes ma’am.” He drawls. “I’ve gotta pretty girl to make scream my name.”

"She's a very lucky girl." You grin at him before you both slip off the dance floor to retrieve your things from your table. "Lucky and very excited."

“We’ll see how excited you are when you are begging me for a break.” Jack swats your ass playfully and winks at the bride and groom as they glance over at you.

Sophia laughs, seeing you jump a second after Jack winks, and she knows he must have smacked your ass just the same way that Tex likes to do to her. She only waves, looking up to her newly minted husband to whisper to him that you and Jack are leaving, and Tex gives the same small gesture as Sophia. The small acknowledgement between you is enough. It's permission to slip away and thanks, and you put your hand to your heart before waving back one more time and scurrying away with Jack.

Even though the house isn’t too far away, Jack had still brought the Bronco. Not wanting you to walk too far in heels or have to mess up your hair or makeup on the way to the wedding. Now it makes for the prime getaway vehicle.

You hop into the Bronco and giggle gleefully as Jack peels out of the parking lot with you tucked into his side like teenagers sneaking away from the school to go find some privacy. The whole five minutes it will take you to drive home is still five minutes of being fully clothed around each other and right now that feels like an awfully long time.

Tonight, Jack has plans. The romance of the day isn't lost on him and he wants to make sure that you are fully aware of how much he loves you. The weeks that it took for his libido to catch back up with his brain had been much like your days recovering, lots of intimate moments without being physical, but he wants to leave you limp with pleasure tonight. Especially since he was made to swear he wouldn't touch you before the reception in an effort to not make you late or ruin your look.

The giddiness in the air doesn’t dissipate as Jack pulls into the driveway. The day has been exciting and joyful and the night is no exception, though not that you and Jack are alone again the excitement is more akin to electricity. Jack bounds out of the Bronco and rushes around the hood, not wanting you to open the door yourself. You smirk at him, about to comment over what a gentleman he is when he reaches up and scoops you out of the seat and tosses you over his shoulder.

Your squeak is music to his ears, delighted and eager, and you hang onto his shoulder for dear life as he carries you into the house. Something gives your feeling that slow and steady lovemaking is out of the question for tonight, and that is just fine with you.

“Been teasin’ me all damn day in this dress.” Jack growls, slapping your ass as he kicks open the door to the bedroom.

"You say that like I picked it." Of course you might not have, but Sophia was the one who picked the lowest cut neckline for your bridesmaid dress and the swing-style skirt that showed off your legs while you danced. Of course you didn't choose it yourself, but you certainly didn't argue with the choice, knowing that Jack would love it.

Jack huffs. “You poured yourself into it, didn’t you?” He demands, tossing you down on the bed and shucking his tux jacket.

"Just for you, baby," you promise him, giggling grin turning into a hungry moan as Jack starts pulling at his shirt.

Jack smirks, slowing his hands down until he is barely slipping a button from its snug resting place. "You want me naked, sugar?" He asks, voice dipping down low.

"Now who's the tease?" The fingers about to remove your jewelry and the shimmering belt from the waist of your dress pause in challenge and the smirk returns to your lips. "I'd rather not damage your tux, cowboy, but it's coming off you one way or another."

"Oh really?" Jack chuckles and slips another button free, finally completely unbuttoning his shirt so he can work on his cufflinks. "I think one day I'd like to see you tear my clothes off."

"I came pretty close a few weeks ago." Jack's healing had kept you cooling your heels for a while, which was fine. He needed the time to regain his strength and feel like himself again. But you had pretty much pounced on him the morning he had finally woken up with morning wood again.

"I've never seen you sink down on my cock quite so quickly...." Jack teases, winking at you. "Or that desperately. It's like you like having me buried deep and throbbing inside you or something."

"You're fucking right I do." Dropping your earrings and belt on your nightstand, you sit up on your knees and reach behind you to pull the zipper on your dress. "Best feeling in the world."

"Yeah?" Jack tosses the cufflinks into the small tray where he keeps his watch and glasses, hitting it perfectly. He sheds the shirt to reveal his chest, smooth and whole without any scars to remind you of his near death experience.

"Yeah." It barely even matters for you to shrug out of the thin straps of your dress, but slipping out of it lets your arms free to reach for him and that's what you care about right now. You never miss the opportunity to press a kiss over his heart anymore, knowing that you came so very close to never being able to again.

The moment softens slightly and Jack reaches for your hands, hold them in his before the lace under your dress captures his attention. "What is this?" Jack asks.

"Oh, this old thing?" The smirk returns to your lips full force as you step off the bed, letting the dress slip off your body and pool on the floor around your feet. Sophia may have chosen the dress, but you hand selected the lacy corset bra and matching panties underneath just for Jack to have as a treat. "They're just something I had lying around," you tease. "Why? You like them?"

"Fuck, sugar." Jack whistles, his cock violently twitching in his pants. "It looks like it's our wedding night and you are dressed to give your new husband a heart attack." The tea length white dresses had looked amazing against the bride's emerald green wedding dress and all in all, it had been a beautiful wedding.

"Oohhh no," you turn in place for him to see the whole thing, and make sure to shake your hips at him for good measure. "What I have on under my dress at our wedding is going to be a whole lot skimpier, I promise."

"So I'm hauling you directly from the wedding to the honeymoon suite?" Jack groans, reaching down and palming himself as he tries to unbuckle his belt one handed.

"We can always slip off for a quickie while people are at cocktails and the photographer is with the wedding party." Smacking his hand away, you have his belt open and pulled free of his pants in ten seconds. "I'm sure we wouldn't be the first newlyweds to need to fuck immediately after their vows."

The second your fingers brush his throbbing cock, it's like a switch has been thrown. In one quick move Jack grabs your hands, lifting them over your head and twisting your body back down onto the bed in the blink of an eye. The motion absorbing bed is the only reason you don't bounce and it keeps you firmly in his clutches.

"Fuck!" It takes you off guard but the curse comes on a moan as you twist to look at him over your shoulder. "You like them that much, baby?"

He doesn't answer, letting go of your wrists and gripping the lace corset in his hands, not even bothering with the small eyelets as he pulls it apart with his bare hands.

"Shit, Jack!" If you hadn't fully wanted this reaction and worn favorite lingerie instead of a new set just for him, you might be upset to lose the corset, but frankly the animalistic reaction is exactly what you were hoping to get from him and you end up whimpering and pushing your ass back toward him instead of making any protest at all.

His hands come down on the globes of your ass, making a crack ring out around the bedroom. Along with your gasping moan of delight. The thin line of material down the crack of your ass is where he grabs, shredding them in his hands and pulling the material out from under you to fling behind him. "Fuck."

You push up on your hands and knees and rock backward, nudging your ass against him so his cock slides along your skin, shivering at the sensation. "I'm wet enough," you promise him, practically panting at the thought. "Every time you fucking looked at me tonight it was like a flood in those tiny little panties."

"Good." He groans, reaching for your hips as his cock slides through your soaked folds. You are wet. "I'm going to make sure that you feel me, sugar." He vows. "Every inch."

The warm thickness of his cock makes your eyelids flutter and you push back again, intending to make him live up to that promise tonight. "You want me just like this, baby?" At some point tonight you fully intend to ride your cowboy, but the way he fucks you into the mattress from behind is a feeling that just can't be compared.

"Yes." Jack growls, snapping his hips forward and burying himself to the hilt into you and propelling both of you into the bed.

"FUCK." Your back bows and cheek hits the comforter, arms buckling under you with no chance of holding you up while Jack pushes you down into the bedding with a great groan. Like this it feels like his cock has reached all the way into your chest, and you keen at the feeling of his throbbing inside you. It's so fucking good and all he did was push inside.

"Perfect." Jack grunts out, grinding into you before he pulls his hips back. He wants to make tonight as rowdy as a rodeo on a Friday night in a country town. "Fuckin' perfect." His next thrust is just as powerful, just as harsh as he pushes back into you, stealing your breath and pushing the sexiest little whine out of your mouth.

"Make me feel it." The challenge comes out with a moan, already certain without a doubt that that's his goal. "For days, baby. Wanna still feel your cock when I'm on the line tomorrow."

Smirking, Jack slaps your ass as he pulls his hips back and sets out to do just that. The pace he sets is brutal. Bone jarring and there isn't time to think, draw a breath or even cry out as he hammers into you as if he was on a mission. In his mind, he is. Watching the way your body absorbs the impact of his thrusts and feeling the way your walls flutter around his drilling length.

It's gloriously brutal, unforgiving in a way that has you clawing at the blankets and hanging on for dear life as he takes what he wants with every single thrust. There's no faltering in his pace and no indication that he has any intention of letting up, and if you could form a coherent thought you would be babbling praise and even begging him for more. Whatever he's willing to give, you'll take it. This night is going to have your eyes watering and mascara streaking down your cheeks and it's worth every second.

As he beats himself into you, hoping to reach your womb, he thinks about how he would get you pregnant. Filling you up and letting it take. He hadn’t realized how amazing it could be when he had done it the first time around. He wants to make sure he appreciates every step of the way in this journey.

With as fast and furious as he's fucking himself into you it only makes sense that your first orgasm hits you like a battering ram, slamming into your body with so much force that your scream cracks on its way out of your throat, crumbling into a whimpering keen that only vaguely resembles his name. Your pussy locks down around him temporarily, flooding his cock with liquid pleasure and making the next thrust squelch pornographically.

Groaning is the only response Jack had to your orgasm. His pace never falters for a single second. The obscene sounds of his cock working in and out of you get louder, more satisfying, but he wants more. He needs it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck–" There is nothing stopping him tonight and you swear if you had known he would be this dedicated to the task tonight you would have stretched. There's nothing to do but take it, as he keeps you pinned down under his bulk with both hands holding you tight enough that if you find permanent indentations there in the morning you won't be the least bit surprised.

He doesn’t want to cum again and not be able to see your face. Pulling out of you abruptly, he grabs your hips to roll you over onto your back. His long hands circle your ankles, pulling one leg up onto his shoulder and plunging back into you so sharply and abruptly that you cry out. The little bit of pain that comes with him thrusting with so much force only adds to the pleasure and your back arches all over again with the new angle.

One leg isn’t enough, he can’t get deep enough to satisfy him. He pulls your other leg up onto his shoulder and starts to press down. Folding you in half as he drills down, filling you up at the same harsh pace as before. His sweat rolls down his forehead but he just watches the way you buck under him.

It's like he's doing push-ups on top of you and somehow that image just makes it even sexier, letting your head fall back onto the sheets as the crumpled blankets slip further down the bed. Groans and growls rumble out of his chest. Gritting his teeth harshly and somehow, his pace picks up. Making him rock his hips even faster as his cock plunges in and out of you.

The night dissolves around you with sounds of pleasure mixing into the celebratory air. The lights in your bedroom are bright behind the drawn curtains and let you watch every bulging, straining muscle on Jack's body. All but the one throbbing inside you, making you cry out with each and every flick of his hips.

It’s almost unhinged, the pace that he’s thrusting into you. Nearly pushing you up the bed, Jack fucks into you like it’s his last night on earth. “Love—” he groans, feeling his body starting to tense and for the first time since sliding inside you, his pace stutters. “You.”

"I–fuck–love you, too." His eyes roll back when his pace breaks, and if you had any leverage at all you would roll him onto his back and ride him until every last drop of him was spent inside you. This is Jack's show tonight, though, and you reach above your head to brace yourself against the headboard so you don't hit your head.

Only two more thrusts later and he’s gone, pushing as deep as he can and shouting your name. Body jerking as he starts to empty himself inside you. Your body shatters on the heels of his seeming explosion, and you shake with the force of cumming a second time. Every wave of pleasure is your cunt clenching down on him that much tighter, drawing him deeper into your body and holding him there like it's trying to fuse you together permanently.

Heaving over you, Jack makes sure every drop of his cum pushes inside you. Flooding your womb and with the last twitch, he sighs, nearly drunk on pleasure.

"Fucking hell," you groan, head falling back again on the mattress as your body lets go every ounce of tension it had coiled into in the grip of orgasm. There isn't a chance in hell of being able to kiss him like this so you focus on catching on catching your breath, grinning up at him like a madwoman.

“Fuck.” Jack huffs, panting as he slowly takes stock of where his body parts are. His forearms are trembling and he lets your legs fall from his shoulders. “Let me catch my breath and I’ll get off you, sugar.”

"Take your time." There's a giggle in the back of your throat, and you reach up with one heavy arm to brush the damp hair off of his forehead. "I'm just gonna lay here and gaze at you like a lovestruck idiot, if that's okay."

“Gaze away.” Jack chuckles and lets out a winded breath. “Damn, that was a ride. You didn’t buck me though.”

"Never," you promise him. "I'd never buck my favorite stud."

“Wasn’t too rough, was I?” Jack asks with a slight frown on his face. “Swore I saw you wince once.”

"Just once." It's not like you would bother lying about it, when it didn't matter at all. "I think you must have been trying to get past my cervix," you tease.

“Thought that was the way you like it?” Jack still pets your face and kisses you tenderly in apology.

"I absolutely do." But you'll still steal any excuse in the world to kiss him. “Which is why the moaning didn't stop for a single second.” Jack hums, feeling your slight wiggle, indicating it’s time for your bathroom break. It always comes within three minutes of finishing up. "How does a bath sound?" He's started to move off of you with a grunt and you have to go to the bathroom anyway. "Soothe those hard working muscles before bed?"

“That sounds good, sugar.” There’s a high probability that you are suggesting it because you are sore, but Jack climbs to his feet after he pulls out of you and offers you his hand to help you off the bed. “You pee and I’ll run the bath.”

The loss of him makes you moan in the back of your throat, but you lift yourself up with Jack's help and pause for just a moment, wrapping him up in a soft, sweet kiss. "I love you so much," you murmur, leaving a kiss on the tip of his nose as well as his lips. "And I can't wait to marry you."

“Whenever you want.” Jack promises, smiling like he won the damn lottery. His fingers brush over your tattoo that is back in its place of honor on your elbow.

"Maybe tomorrow we'll sit down with a calendar and our lemon pancakes." Finally picking a date would be a big step in the right direction, and you kiss him once more before unraveling yourself from him to go into the bathroom. It was a perfect wedding, and a perfect night afterward. The only one you're looking forward to more is your own.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au

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eternalglitch · 1 year

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I need you to know that what broke me, while reading LFLS, as someone who saw a ridiculous amount of fanart beforehand, wasn't Leo being put through hell and back. It wasn't him refusing to think of himself as Leo because in his head Leo had died in the Battle Nexus, it wasn't Mikey putting up the missing posters and dropping them when he saw Leo on the TV, it wasn't Splinter getting Leo's favorite Chinese order after he went missing and it going untouched for ages because everyone refused to accept he wasn't coming back, it wasn't Raph holding so much guilt for putting his phone on silent, it wasn't Splinter going back to the Battle Nexus to look for Leo despite all the trauma he went through because of it and Big Mama and just missing him, it wasn't the Hamato's looking in all the right places for Leo and being just that much too late or too early to catch him, no. No, it was the realization as to why I had seen fanart of Leo fighting his family with seemingly no remorse. It was realizing it was because Draxum had ordered him to, and Leo obeyed because he had been conditioned to out of fear. It was knowing that Leo, in another timeline, had sacrificed himself just to keep his family safe. It was knowing that if his family had rescued him just a little bit sooner, he would've gladly let himself be shocked to protect them. It was knowing that Leo was so broken that he feared being shocked again more than he wanted to protect his family because of how long he'd been suffering alone. That. That is what broke me, and I applaud you for it. You are a brilliant writer, Glitch, truly. No fic or piece of media has ever broken me like LFLS has, none. In all my years of being alive and consuming stories of all kinds, I have never before encountered anything that has managed to break me so gently yet so ruthlessly like your fic has. Thank you for sharing this amazing fic with the world, I and many others will never be the same.

Reluctant villain as a trope is always hard to sell because it's the most interesting when it's a character that truly would do anything for their friends and family. Figuring out how to change that was the main focus in the character exploration of the first half of lfls.

Because you're right. If the Battle Nexus arc hadn't happened, if the shock collar wasn't involved, if they had come a week sooner, if even one variable had shifted, Leo would have remained willing to do whatever it took to keep his family safe. As it was, he still was ready to do that right up until he realized he almost killed one of his brothers out of sheer instinct. And that broke him.

I really like the "so gently yet so ruthlessly" phrase you used because yeah! I think that describes my writing pretty well. I do love just cracking the character open to see what makes them tick and then putting them back together, but also I see that there's something kind about it, too? A promise that they can literally get through anything and come out of it with their head held high, even if that takes a while to get back to.

Thanks for reading and the very kind comment ^^

#glitch answers #lfls

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taruchinator · 11 months

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🎧 Teen & Up Audiences

🎧 3.5k Words

🎧 Written for the Grab A Slice Bang!

Unconsciously reaching for his katana, the blue ninja stealthily approached, only to have his heart ripped out of his chest at the sight before him.

He'd found Donnie.

Here we come again with the trauma! :D Hey everyone! Alice here!

Today I come with my second piece for the Grab A Slice TMNT Bang on Twitter, this time focused on my beloved Disaster Twins, featuring my favorite Donnie is Autistic HC!

The first artwork for this fic was done by @donathan, the second by Mad Lad, and the final one by Shirpowbra! Please consider following these talented individuals~

“You guys don't have to do this! Besides, my mom's home and she'd freak as soon as she saw you.”

“No buts, April! It's dark out and we gotta make sure the best party coordinator in New York gets home safe and sound. Ya know, for any future consultations.”

The underground sewers of New York City regained life in what felt like forever, as the light banter between April O'Neil and Raphael Hamato echoed through the slimy tunnels around them.

Months had passed since the invasion of the Krang, and the subsequent victory the turtle siblings had over the threat that fell upon their home. After everything they experienced fighting the Shredder, no one could have predicted that they'd be sucked into a new global-destruction-scale battle, at least not as soon as they did.

The time was spent mostly recovering, both physically and emotionally— with the occasional shenanigans that came in helping their new futuristic friend in returning to his timeline, which was an extremely difficult task, yet nothing a little science and magic couldn't fix after trial and error (more error than anything else, but Donnie wouldn't admit to that).

Being a hero was no walk in the park, and that was something the turtles had to learn the hard way. Regardless, it was clear that they needed some cheering up to do, which was the moment April concocted a plan alongside Master Splinter to host a party in their small hideout.

It took plenty of work behind the scenes— everything from obtaining supplies, to setting up decorations, to simply getting the boys out of the house for enough time without drawing any suspicions to their scheme. But the results were definitely worth it.

However, now that the celebrations were over and every last slice of pizza had been accounted for, it was time for the human girl to head home, since she had school the next day. Which prompted the current predicament in which Raph's big brother instincts wouldn't let her leave on her own without any company.

Mikey, who at this point had been collecting the empty pizza boxes littered across the floor, quickly ran over to the duo and placed himself between them with a sweet smile aimed at the girl. “Please April? You know Raph isn't gonna sleep unless you let him take you. I could tag along if you want to fill in the awkward silence!”

“Hey! I don't do awkward silences!” Raph huffed with his eyebrows furrowed together, only to soften the expression slightly in uncertainty. “Do I?”

April couldn't hold back her giggle while placing one hand on the snapping turtle's shoulder. “Let's just say you aren't the best at holding a conversation, big guy.” As she eyed the concerned siblings on either side of her, she let out a sigh of defeat with a small smile gracing her lips. These idiots would be the death of her. “Fine! But you both better be stealthy or I'll get grounded for life, and that's if I'm lucky.”

“Sister, you're talking to ninjas. It comes with the package.” Mikey replies with a smug grin as he tries to pose with his back against one of the pillars, only to have Raph bring him back to reality with a gentle head pat. “Easy there, Mikey. We've already got one overconfident player, we ain't got room for two.”

“I must concur, April.” Taking the trio off guard, Splinter's voice cut through the echoey surface around them. He approached while carrying an array of disposable plates and cups, even juggling one on his tail which contained plenty of plastic forks. “It is far too late for a young girl to be walking the streets alone. And do not worry about the cleanup. I shall take care of it all momentarily.”

This then prompts a fifth voice to join in on the conversation, Leo's bubbly personality completely unfazed as to it being past midnight as he approaches Splinter from behind. “Excuse me, I think you mean we'll take care of the cleanup!” As quickly as he arrived, the blue ninja immediately took hold of everything his father was carrying and proceeded to balance it on one arm, all the while sporting a cocky grin. “Dee and I will go through this mess, don't you worry!”

“I'm sorry, we'll what?” Donnie, who had simply been standing in the corner fidgeting with his phone all this time, raised his head in confusion, clearly sleep-deprived and ready to hit the hay.

“Leonardo…” Splinter spoke firmly yet with tiredness gracing his features. “You do not have to do this, my son. I'm more than capable-”

“I know you are, pops. Just let us do something in return, will ya? Consider it a thanks for the party!” Leo's expression softened slightly as he gave his father a smile. With a small push towards his bedroom, he continued. “Now go get some sleep! You deserve it! And you guys hurry up so you can help too!”

Raph couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his father fighting both Leo and the exhaustion as he was pushed into his room. If there was one good thing that came out of the Krang invasion, it was the older brother's new-found respect for his younger siblings. With a roll of his eyes, he ushered Mikey and April out of the lair. “Whatever you say, leader.”

Once the echoes of their footsteps were out of hearing, the blue ninja felt satisfied enough to get started, as he turned around and took a good look at his surroundings. Everything from trash, to confetti, to questionable food residues layed around him. Maybe this was going to be a higher task than he initially thought. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and quickly forced the tiredness out of his system as he started with the pizza boxes that Mikey had already prearranged. “Alrighty! I take care of the trash. Donnie, you start picking up the streamers.”

After not receiving a response, Leo turned to look at his twin. The purple bandana did little to cover the eye bags and clear irritation gracing the genius' features. “You really expect me to clean up a mess like this at three in the morning?”

“Come on, Dee! We're just getting a head start while the others get back. You can go play with your gizmos afterwards, I promise.” Even though Leo played it as a joke, he could tell Donnie wasn't in the mood to deal with his antics at the moment. With a sigh, he spoke up once more. “Look, I'm tired too. But dad and April worked real hard to plan this thing for us. Maybe the least we can do is help clean up the mess?”

The other's expression remained unreadable for a moment. It wasn't until the purple ninja shuddered in disgust that Leo knew Donnie hadn't fallen asleep with his eyes open. “I don't like this new ‘Responsible Leo’ thing you've got going. It's creepy.”

Mouth agape, the blue ninja sputtered. “I'm just trying to be nice, that's not creepy!”

“Coming from you, it is. I want my dumb-dumb brother back.” Donnie replied instantly, earning him another flabbergasted look, which annoyingly enough got a chuckle out of the genius. Well, he'd been having insomnia for the past couple of days anyway. What was one more? “Fine, you win. Just let me get Sheldon from the lab. Might as well have another helper around because I am not going anywhere near that moldy pizza.”

“Alright, you got it! Disaster twins in the house, baby!” Leo exclaimed with glee as he balanced one more cardboard box over his shoulder, his smile never leaving his lips.

Donnie shivered once more at the sound, scratching at the back of his neck in frustration. He was gonna need more than Sheldon if he was going to survive the night. “N-Not so loud, Nardo. Dad's asleep, remember? Be right back.”

And as such, without even letting him start another sentence, the purple ninja fled the scene into his laboratory. Strange, yet Leo didn't think to question it. He just wanted to get everything done so they could get the rest they needed.

Minutes went by as Leo kept sweeping the area around him. The garbage he'd collected so far could probably fill the Turtle Tank to the brim, and he had to stop and wonder how much waste could four turtles, one rat man and one human girl produce in the span of a couple hours.

His thoughts then began to drift towards his twin, who'd been taking his sweet time in coming back. He rolled his eyes in fake annoyance. “He totally ditched me. At least Raph will give him an earful when he gets back...”

The mental image of the red and purple ninja going at it was quickly wiped from Leo's mind however, as soon as a loud crash echoed through the lair. One coming from none other than Donnie's lab.

Despite knowing better— that it was late and that they were all sleep deprived and that his twin most probably just ended up tripping over the mess of wires in his little hideout— a familiar feeling of dread began to creep through Leo's body, before he sprinted towards the source, discarding the trash bag in the process.

“Calm down Leon, you're overreacting! Everything's fine. You guys are safe. Nothing's wrong!” The blue ninja kept repeating the mantra in his mind to steady his accelerated heartbeat, yet images of his oldest brother being overtaken by alien matter kept flashing through his eyes, and all he could do was pick up the pace.

The sight that greeted him did little to calm his nerves.

Everything was a mess. And not the usual ‘Donnie doesn't put things where they belong’ kind. No matter where he looked the entire place was trashed, with everything from keyboards to robot parts lying on the ground. Monitors were broken, cords were unplugged, and the purple ninja was nowhere in sight.

It didn't take long for panic to set in. Leo began his search around the mess of wire spaghetti at his feet. “Donnie! Where are you?!”

Thankfully the lab was relatively small, considering it used to be an old water pump system that his twin ended up transforming into something amazing. But that didn't change the fact that the structure was the same and there wasn't much ground to cover.

Turning the corner to Donnie's makeshift sleeping area, Leo spotted Sheldon on the mess of blankets, still in resting mode but definitely placed there just a few moments ago based on his location. The purple ninja was just here.

“M-Mmm…” A quiet whine instantly caught Leo's attention as it broke the silence around him. Following the sound with his gaze, it seemed to be leading to one of his brother's work stations. The desk had been ransacked as well— blueprints and sketches either ripped apart or swept onto the floor.

Unconsciously reaching for his katana, the blue ninja stealthily approached, only to have his heart ripped out of his chest at the sight before him.

A shivering form— a turtle such as himself— crouched perfectly under the desk as he placed both hands against his ears, as if blocking out the noise around him. His iconic purple bandana and trusty goggles lay discarded to the side as if they were nothing but mere trash, in a condition that showed fumbling and desperation from the user to rip them off. Most heartbreaking of all would have to be his exposed shell, with visible veins underneath the translucent surface pumping blood at a speed that proved his current heart rate, and even possible hyperventilation, if Leo had to guess.

He'd found Donnie.

Without much thought, Leo instinctively reached for his twin's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He'd soon find out it'd be far from that. “Dee, what happ-?”

“M-Mmm!” With no hesitation, Donnie slapped the hand away and quickly backed away further into the desk, holding onto his knees as he started rocking back and forth. He wouldn't even spare his twin a glance. This struck a chord in Leo as he stared in disbelief at the teen in front of him— he'd seen this before. A long time ago.

Some parts of Leo's childhood were rather hazy. Expected of someone who was mutated into a cognitive sentient being when he was merely a baby, as Donnie once said himself. And even though most of the things he did remember were relatively mundane, there was one event that always made his skin crawl when trying to remember it.

A time when Donnie had just instantly fallen to the ground and started crying uncontrollably as he clung to his sides in desperation, almost as if trying to rip his clothes off with all the strength he could muster.

Mikey started crying too while Raph went to look for Splinter, and all Leo could do was stare not knowing what to do. He'd never felt so helpless before.

After their father took control of the situation and did some research, he sat the boys down to have a long and detailed talk about something called ‘Autism.’

“Donatello struggles more than all of us with socializing and interacting with the things around him.” The rat had said in the simplest way he could for children to understand. But he also made sure to add, “However, this does not make your brother any different from us. If anything, it is one of the many reasons why he is so special and intellectually gifted!”

Ever since that day, everyone started learning the ways around how to deal with Donnie's condition and make him feel as comfortable as possible. And even though the purple ninja would usually express that he was being more of a burden, no one ever felt that way. They were family, and that meant they loved each other, no matter what.

As the years went by, Donnie became better at handling his condition by himself, and in the rare cases where he needed support, Splinter would be there.

This was probably the first time since they were children where Leo's twin had let it get to this point. That could only mean this was serious.

Splinter was already asleep and Leo was alone. He was never the comforting type of the family, but damn if he wouldn't try his best to try and get Donnie to a semi-normal state! He couldn't leave the other like this.

As he crouched to be in his brother's same height level, he made sure to lower his voice, barely above a whisper as he kept his distance a few feet away. “Donnie… are you having an episode?”

The other moved his body slightly in Leo's direction, but still clutched his head as he gave a tiny nod in response. And then, as quickly as he could, he started moving his hands in weird gestures that had the blue ninja blinking in confusion until it hit him.

Sign Language.

One of the things the Hamato family noticed about Donnie's autism was the fact that he'd usually go mute whenever he was having a bad episode. And for those cases, the genius had started learning sign language to still be able to communicate with the others.

This fact alone made Leo instantly groan in frustration, which caused Donnie to quiver in response. Out of everyone in the family, Mikey was definitely the one who was more skilled at sign language, followed by Splinter, Raph and ultimately, himself.

Leo was at the bottom of the barrel really, since he never actually bothered to learn it properly.

He had to take a step back and reevaluate everything and search deep into the vault that was his memory. He started at his trembling hands with uncertainty, but was determined to get it right. Or at least as right as he could.

He began with moving his fingers into a shaka sign position, until he hesitantly started moving them back and forth in front of him. ‘Party’ , if he recalled correctly. Seeing Donnie not correcting him, he continued with pointing at his left ear and subsequently forming his hands into fists, shaking them slightly from one side to the other as he mouthed the meaning— ‘Loud’.

Leo finally ended with a pointed finger directed at his twin. He knew it wasn't the right way of asking, but he still hoped Donnie could understand what he was trying to convey. “Was the party too loud for you?”

Donnie's eyes flickered from Leo's hands to his face, until he gave a hesitant nod. With tears stinging his eyes, he signed something that Leo could understand. ‘Tired.’ ‘Didn't sleep’.

It all made sense now.

Ever since the invasion, Donnie hadn't had a single moment to relax— dealing with the aftermath in the city, helping everyone in the healing process, sending Casey back home. Nobody really questioned it because well, Donnie was never one to vocally express whenever he was in distress.

He was the genius of the family.

His intellect and technology expertise were essential.

Everyone relied on him.

But it was clear that even the strongest people had a breaking point. And Donnie was way beyond his.

Holding a firm yet gentle gaze, the blue ninja moved tentatively closer to his brother as he went back to whispering. “What can I do to help?”

Despite not being able to express it at the moment, it was clear that Donnie appreciated not being poked or lectured on the choices he'd made over the past few months, even though it was clear that it all played a major part in his current state of mind. He stimmed with his hands in appreciation.

After that, it was a guessing game around the lab as to what Donnie wanted Leo to get for him. Everything from a weighted blanket he kept in the bottom drawer, a pair of sound proof headphones that Leo could've easily mistaken as regular ones, and even aesthetic items such as fairy lights that were hidden under the regular light switches.

Leo didn't know how much time had passed until he looked at the clock on the nightstand, which read 4:26 AM in bright bold letters. He was rather thankful that at least after everything, Donnie was now a little more comfortable, to the point where he'd let Leo get closer and even be touched.

Once things were set up for his twin in the lab's makeshift bed, the blue ninja figured this would be the best time to take his leave and have the other get the rest he rightfully deserved.

But before he could even rise from the mat, a hand hesitantly held onto his wrist, causing him to halt and turn in concern. Donnie was looking at him from his spot under the bundle of blankets, a somewhat sheepish expression gracing his features as he mumbled out loud for the first time in hours. “S-Stay…”

Widening his eyes slightly in surprise, Leo let out a soft chuckle at the way his brother was behaving. He'd definitely deny all of it in the morning. “Fine. Move over, nerd.”

Donnie did as he was told and made a small space for Leo to fit into under the fortress. With their bodies pressed against each other, the blue ninja would've thought his twin would be uncomfortable, but the smile on his face showed the complete opposite.

Before falling into the peaceful world of slumber, the genius tapped three fingers against his chin with his eyes closed. ‘Thank you.’

Leo couldn't stop the smile from spreading. He held on to his brother's side with no intention of letting go. “You're welcome, Dee…”

It was clear that despite many months having gone by, the turtle brothers still had a long journey of healing ahead of them. And after finally understanding the value his family had to him, Leo was certain he'd want to be there for it every step of the way.

Just like he and Donnie didn't need words to communicate, he and the rest of his loved ones didn't need a reason to care for one another, except the pure fact that they loved each other.

And that was the unspoken truth.

“Ohhhh now this is a good angle!” Mikey took the twelfth picture that night with a wide and mischievous grin across his face.

“Mikey! Keep it down, you'll wake them up!” Raph hushed in the best whispery voice he could do as he scolded his youngest brother.

Once the duo had returned to the lair and found not only the party mess still intact but also their brothers missing, they couldn't help but grow curious. Just like Leo did, they found the trashed lab as a bad sign and immediately panicked as they went inside, until they were greeted with the peaceful sight of the twins snoring away under the blanket fort.

Mikey started looking through the loot in his phone's gallery as he replied in a whisper. “Sorry, sorry! I just need a little leverage for the next time they wanna steal my paint without asking.”

Raph sighed in frustration, only to turn and look at the twins once more.

His heart soared at the sight, and it was only fair to let himself relax as he ushered Mikey out of the room. “Yeah whatever. Let's hit the hay too, little man.”

Cleaning could wait until morning.

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#my stories #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #disaster twins #leonardo hamato #donatello hamato

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sun-and-moon-mushroom · 3 months

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Day 5: Rope Burns

AO3 link

(Continuation of Day 2)

(cw: medical restraints)

Shen Qingqiu had been trying to get out of his bed again, despite Mu Qingfang’s best efforts. He had thought that his fellow Peak Lord had finally grown out of his tendency to avoid treatment, but it seemed like that instinct was still in there somewhere. He’d been restrained after the second time he’d tried to crawl out of his bed and through the window — with the condition of his body, Mu Qingfang wasn’t even certain he’d survive the attempt.

He still wasn’t sure what had happened to Shen Qingqiu when the Immortal Alliance Conference was invaded by demons. It wasn’t any of the wounds given to him by the northern demon that he’d fought off, but it didn’t act exactly like Without-A-Cure did either. If anything, it seemed as if something was pulling his soul from his body — some sort of demonic cultivation trick perhaps — and his body was trying to fight it off by holding onto the soul at tightly as it could.

It was worrying — not only the idea that someone had taken the opportunity, possibly even engineered it, in order to target one of their own in such a way, but also in now it would affect Shen Qingqiu even if the process was stopped. He might end up loosing more of his memories, or he might regain the missing ones, along with whatever trauma was attached to them.

Knocking the struggling Shen Qingqiu out with a sedation technique, Mu Qingfang sat down by his bedside and started using his qi to heal the abrasive injuries he’d given himself as he struggled against his bindings. They were the type that they usually used for patients suffering from qi deviations, designed to restrain them, but without completely cutting off their qi circulation. Red marks stretched across the skin of his arms and legs, but slowly faded as Mu Qingfang worked.

Then there was the other problem. Mu Qingfang had known that Shen Qingqiu had changed a lot over the last few years… but his actions towards his disciple, the one who was revealed as a Heavenly Demon to the entire cultivation world, had been decidedly out of character. He had begged them — Shen Qingqiu! Begging! — to not imprison him, tried to convince them that he was at fault even, despite how obvious it was that he had been deceived as much as the rest of them.

Mu Qingfang’s suspicions had begun then, and his further investigations had confirmed his instincts. For the first few years that Luo Binghe had been on Qing Jing Peak, Shen Qingqiu had hated him. Then, he seemed to change. Slowly at first, but then suddenly, even inviting his new favourite disciple to live in his side room. It wasn’t just Luo Binghe either — Liu Qingge had told him of Shen Qingqiu’s strange behaviour after saving him from his qi deviation in the Ling Xi caves, asking him to check if he’d been affected by anything that might have caused it. Even Yue Qingyuan, ever the subject of his distaste, had become something of a friend.

There were a lot of plants, creatures, and curses that could effect how a person thought or acted, and as a healer, Mu Qingfang was expected to know the warning signs for as many as possible. The way Shen Qingqiu acted, the way he changed so drastically after his qi deviation… it all pointed to him being poisoned by the petals of the Sea-Foam Rose, a poison that turned feelings of hate into feelings of love and affection. His most hated disciple had become his favourite, his bitter rival had become a friend, and even the sect leader, who he acted so coldly towards before, had received some of his affection.

There wasn’t exactly a cure to the effect of the petals, not one that Mu Qingfang know of at least. He suspected, based on the nature of similar plants, that dual cultivation might help, but he knew Shen Qingqiu well enough to know that he would undoubtedly refuse such an experiment, even without the flower clouding his mind. No, the closest thing to a cure was to use the leaves of the flower instead, and change love back into hate. It wasn’t perfect, and worked best shortly after exposure but still… it might be their only chance to save Shen Qingqiu from himself.

#svsss #svsss au #shen qingqiu #mu qingfang #my writing #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump

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sugarpasteltmnt · 4 months

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Introducing…

‘DINO’-tello

BIG THANK U to anixolt on twitter for accepting this commission request!!! I'm so excited to share this 'Future' Donatello with you all!

Set in an alternate reality, Donnie & his brothers go back in time to the cretaceous period to stop a cataclysmic event. However, in doing so, the four brothers get stuck in the past and live among the dinosaurs.

[link to twitter thread]

(Note! Permission to post my commission on tumblr was given by artist via Twitter!)

More lore below!

Because the Ooze was designed to make super soldier mutants, it helps its host adapt to the conditions around them. After a few years, it started to double-mutate him to adapt to his new harsh environment, making him very raptor-like.

Because of his double mutation and trauma of past events, Donnie is at risk of going into a feral “Savage” mode like Raph

Has two modes— ‘Hunter’ and ‘Scientist/Alchemist’

While hunting Donatello relies on his instincts. Becomes very aggressive and territorial.

He uses a ankylosaurus skull and other dinosaur parts as his battle shell and protective gear while hunting

When he isn’t hunting, Donnie is trying to reinvent necessities to make living in a prehistoric era a bit easier with what materials are available to him

Whatever he doesn’t have, he’ll make. From scratch.

Dino-Tello’s concept was inspired by a similar 2003 TMNT episode where they go to the past, 2003 Leatherhead, Tarzan, and the anime series ‘Dr. Stone’

His concept is meant to emphasize Donnie’s other strengths beyond technology— such as his Superintelligence, his close-combat fighting skills, and ability to communicate with other creatures (as shown in the Todd Scouts episode)

He and his brothers tame a triceratops and name him Zog, who was both a pet and steed

For one reason or another… Donatello is the last turtle standing

However, due to classic Hamato shenanigans— ‘Dino’tello might not find himself alone for too long 👀👀👀

#pastel prattling #non neon void related #finally I can post about this fool #new AU dropping how do we feel #tmnt rise #TMNT rise AU #tmnt au #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #ROTTMNT AU #this AU doesn’t have a name yet #but I’ll think of something lol

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moonlit-positivity · 7 months

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Healing Thoughts: How Safety Can Help Us Understand Grounding and Dissociation from a Different Point of View

I've spent a lot of time sitting with myself and observing a lot of different things about how I experience dissociation and what has helped me stay grounded vs when the dissociation gets worse. Grounding can be really hard to understand the concept of in practice, but I've noticed something that has worked for me and has given me a chance to understand it on a deeper level.

Safety.

How do you define being safe? What makes you feel like you are in a safe and comfortable space? What do you need in order to shift your nervous system out of survival mode and into full rest? Dissociation is our body's natural defense mechanism against traumatic and triggering events. If you are experiencing extreme dissociation and finding it hard to stay grounded, you may still be operating on a level where your brain and body, ie nervous system, has yet to fully establish a safety zone for you to be grounded in a place where you're not having to constantly face trauma or triggering events, and to also face them with a proper support team behind you to help recover from such triggers. And this can be really, really difficult to understand because especially if you come from an abusive childhood, what the hell does safety even mean, right?? How do you know if you're safe?? What does it mean?? You might need to spend some time reflecting on your own experiences to help you understand it from your own point of view, but safety is really the backbone to recovery. Ask yourself

Are you physically safe?

- Distance from abusers

- Stable and secure housing

- Working amenities like bathroom and kitchen

- Able to procure and store food that is safe to eat

- physical space to sleep, bed and sheets and pillows etc

- Boundaries against sharing your address, phone number, emails etc with your abusers

- Safe roommates/living arrangements

- Doors locked/windows blocked with blinds or curtains

- physical space to breathe and unmask

- A room where you can close the door and get some privacy

Are you emotionally safe?

- Comfort items like blankets, stuffed animals, pets, video games/tv, music, things that bring warm and safe feelings

- safe people to talk with and share your pain in a way that you feel seen and validated

- encouraged to speak up when something bothers you and enforce your boundaries with others/people listen when you say you're uncomfortable and respect when you say no

- consider the emotional state of your thought processes and how you're handling self sabotaging behaviors

- healthy emotional coping skills that encourage curiosity and compassion for what you're going through rather than shame and humiliation

[these are just a few suggestions. What are some other things you would write in these categories?]

Its not just about the physical safety, but that is a huge first step for the other parts. If you're in a situation where any of these physical safety needs are not being met, then that is a guaranteed reason why your body is stuck in survival. It is exhausting living in a state where you're constantly worried about losing the backbone of your entire life, or living with people who threaten your safety. Housing, food, sleep, etc are all a part of basic human needs in order to feel safe (check out Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs). If you are struggling with any of these please know you're truly doing the best you can to survive right now and that is all that matters. Survival is an entirely different world than what most people would ever experience. You gotta do what you gotta do to get through it, it makes sense that your body would still be fighting in these conditions, and that is okay. Gentle reminder that we all move on our own timelines and that our bodies have an entire system for survival as a natural defense. If you're stuck in fight/flight/freeze/fawn in an unsafe environment, trust your instincts to guide you through it.

Once you're physically safe and put some distance between you and the traumatic situations, it can take a lot of time to really "cool down" or adjust to the concept of being truly safe, like living in a space where you can actually breathe and walk around and not worry about how much noise you make or how much food you eat, or if someone is going to randomly yell at you or hit you etc. This is a huge part of healing that I don't think is talked about a lot, but with that freedom can come a huge depression at the realization that this is really happening. And that can be an entire reason for dissociation to take over, even and especially when we start to feel physically safe.

Being physically safe is when we can start to fully process and understand on a deeper level. And with that... comes the awareness. Again, please be gentle with yourself because dissociation is our natural defense mechanism again traumatic and triggering events. Please remember this. The dissociation you experience and the escapism to avoid the pain of what you went through, this is a fully natural and normal part to recovery that I don't think is ever really talked about at all. That is so incredibly normal. To experience such horrific events, especially as a child, you have been in situations where they were trying to unalive you, your body has been fighting for so long just to keep you alive. It can take a very very long time to sit with that and fully process!

We all move on our own timelines...

If you are trying to work on yourself in these conditions, defining your emotional safety can truly help you flourish. Things like boundaries and reclaiming your autonomy and talking about what they did to you so you can start to unravel your own understanding of it all... because without the emotional safety of knowing your boundaries are worth protecting, we end up in situations that don't really see us for our true genuine authentic selves, our voice, our needs and wants- and that is just more trauma to deal with. There is also the parts of you that so desperately need your own love and attention and all they want is for you to sit with them through the hard and uncomfortable emotions lurking underneath, to love and care for what they have to say, and to give urself the grace and patience and compassion you're truly yearning for.

Thats why I think the ultimate hack to understanding grounding when ur experiencing resistance or finding urself heavily dissociated or in a panic... is to focus on how safe you feel in these moments. Run through the checklists and ask yourself which ones stand out the most to you? What kinds of safety does your mind and body crave the most? Are there any concerns that are interfering and causing stress at this time? Then reinforce the check points that show you are safe- safe in your house with the doors locked and windows covered, safe in the company of who is around you, safe enough to protect ur boundaries if anyone tries to intervene... and eventually you will feel safe enough to experience this moment in it's full range of emotions...

Because at the core of grounding, is just being present with yourself through all the pain, discomfort, and overwhelming feelings. And it makes a lot of sense for you to stay dissociated until you feel safe enough to be in the present moment to begin with... And it can take a very long time to work that out for how it best works for you, so remember to be kind and gentle and take breaks and be nice because you're trying so hard to just make it through the days. Healing is hard, yanno?

Safety Affirmations

- I am not there anymore. I am safe. ["There" being traumatic events & situations]

- I am not in that house anymore. I am safe.

- [abuser] is not here. I am safe.

- if [abuser] were to show up, my doors are locked and I can call [safe person] to help me.

- i have a right to defend my peace. I am safe.

- i am [adult age] in my adult body. I am not my child self anymore. I am safe.

- I don't have to do anything I don't want to do right now. I can think and make my own decisions at my own pace. I am safe.

- i am allowed to disagree with how they treated me. I am safe.

- i am allowed to cut people off who invade my space for my abuser. I am protected from people who threaten my peace.

- i am allowed to speak up when someone violates my boundaries. I am safe, loved, and cherished for who I am and what I need.

- i am allowed to feel uneasy. I am safe enough to feel this unease. I can allow myself to feel this feeling because I know I will be safe enough to express myself without being judged. I am in safe company.

- i am allowed to feel upset. I am safe enough to unmask and show my true thoughts and feelings because I am safe enough to trust my gut instincts. I am safe in mind soul and spirit.

- i am safe. I have worked hard to escape my abuser and I have worked hard to establish this safety for myself. I am safe in my space.

- i am safe to express my innermost thoughts aloud to myself and to know I will value all that I have to say. I am safe in my thoughts.

- i am allowed to feel warm and safe and to truly experience this bliss for all it's worth. I am capable of protecting myself when the hard and uncomfortable things arise. I am safe in this moment.

Hope this helps 🌸

#grounding #ptsd #recovery #boundaries #trauma #mental health #bpd #trauma recovery #trauma therapy #cptsd #emotional health #safety

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clonemedickix · 8 months

Text

Again, sorry. Coping in the medical field is one of the hardest things to quantify, explain or manage. We often develop weird coping mechanisms and lone wolf tendencies. People struggle to understand our level of weird, while we struggle to maintain our sanity. I hope this is just a small glimpse into the mind of a good medic who can’t save everyone, but still cares deeply about continuing the fight.

Rating: M

Word count: 2.9K

Pairing: OC CMO Volte x OC General Lara Lin x OC Aurelia (by permission of @freesia-writes )

Warnings: Surgically assisted birth, coping with life risk, medical coping with reality of trauma and loss, discussing the feels

Excerpt Summary - Lara and Volte are required to deliver a child surgically; Volte has a flashback to times when he couldn’t save everyone and has a moment, struggling to cope.

@anxiouspineapple99 @blueink-bluesoul @523rdrebel @mandos-mind-trick @jediknightjana @moonlightwarriorqueen @wizardofrozz @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @dystopicjumpsuit @villanousace

Excerpt beneath the line

About six months into the girl’s pregnancy, Lara had noted her fiddling with her socks and boots, complaining how tight they were, and that her ankles were swelling up daily. Sliding over near her, Lara asked her how she’d been feeling, if she was excited about the coming baby. The girl, named Rhaela, chattered on in happiness about her preparations, how they’d made clothes and furniture for the baby, how excited Falco was about becoming a father. Lara listened to her with a smile, but with rising concern, which turned to fear when she heard Rhaela complain about the frequent headaches she was getting. Hearing her complaints, Lara realized they were symptoms of a concerning pregnancy related condition - at the very least it was gestational hypertension, but was most likely preeclampsia. She would need to talk to Volte and Aurelia as soon as possible about treatment plans for Rhaela; there wasn’t much to offer really - no antihypertensives, no hospital to stash her in until delivery. She would be much like the millions of human women that had gone before her, doing their best to survive high risk pregnancies.

In the end, Lara’s fears came true. Rhaela went into labor and struggled to deliver her child. As the birth progressed, she was unable to bring the child out, not matter what techniques she and Volte used. Lara found herself looking at Volte silently, full of dread and knowledge. In a small lull, while Rhaela rested, Falco holding her hand desperately, his face full of concern, Lara and Volte consulted in the corner of the small home, Aurelia listening without a word.

“She’s not going to be able to deliver that baby, Volte,” Lara said softly.

“So what do you propose we do, General?” Volte’s tone was laced with desperation and unhappiness. He knew instinctively where this was going, and his heart hurt at the knowledge, the risks they were faced with taking.

“If we do a section, we can probably save the baby. It’s full term, and should be fine. But I’m not sure if we can save them both. The meds we have will depress the baby’s breathing and heart rate as well - we absolutely can’t go cutting on her without giving her pain meds. So, we won’t have much time to get the baby out.” Lara’s fine brows were drawn together in thought and distraction. “What do you think, Volte?”

Volte looked disturbed that she was deferring the decision to him. He gawped a little in surprise and panic. “I…I don’t know, General! You’ve done this before - I haven’t.”

Lara looked at him a little flatly. “If you’re going to be the doctor for this community, these decisions will come up. Even the best docs on Earth still struggle with this at times.” She glanced over at Rhaela, who was napping fitfully. “We have to ask Rhaela what she wants. While she sleeps, we can get stuff ready.” She looked up at Aurelia a little sharply, focused now on a task that they could accomplish. “Rely, go get the med packs and the IV equipment. The surgical packs are labeled as such. Bring those as well as the airway pack. Can you get it all?”

“I can get Howzer to help me. I’ll be right back!” Aurelia turned and ran from the home quickly, on a mission to get the equipment back as soon as possible.

Lara stepped over to Rhaela and Falco; reaching out she took the young woman’s wrist in her hand and felt her pulse, then glanced at the fetal heart rate monitor to see how the baby was doing. The signs were okay for now - both mother and child were resting for a moment. Falco stared at Lara’s face, fear hiding in the depths of his brown eyes. He could sense the General wasn’t happy with how the delivery was going. Rhaela stirred, waking groggily and looking up at Lara and her husband. Taking a breath, Lara braced herself for the conversation that had to happen now.

“Rhaela, we are having some trouble bringing the baby along. I’m not sure you’re going to be able to deliver without help.” Falco’s eyes hardened.

“What kind of help?,” he asked guardedly.

“Surgical help. We’ve reached the point where we have to make a choice. I can surgically open the womb and get the baby out, or both mother and child will likely die in the attempt to have the baby naturally.” Lara’s expression was as flat as she could make it, looking into both parent’s eyes. They both looked taken aback, slapped by the cold hand of reality and dread. “Before you make your choice, you have to know - there is a large chance that Rhaela could die. This surgery is not without risks. The bleeding associated is usually bad, and I can’t make you any guarantees, other than if we do nothing, you will certainly die. And the child.” Lara’s eyes were full of regret, that she couldn’t do more for them.

Rhaela and Falco looked at each other, seeing that the writing on the walls was dark and unhappy. Tears came to both their eyes, along with a mixture of physical pain; the contractions were starting to return. Lara reached out and took Rhaela’s hand, saying nothing, but offering her presence as support. The girl took a deep breath, leaned over into Falco’s chest and cried softly. Falco held her like he was trying to force the strength from his own body into hers. Looking up at Lara, he whispered, “There’s no other way?”

Lara shook her head sadly.

Tears fell from Falco’s eyes, and he closed them, holding Rhaela tightly. After a moment, Rhaela looked at Lara and took a breath. “Do it, General. I know you’ll do your best. You and Volte can do anything, I know it.”

The words touched Lara’s soul, and she couldn’t stop a rim of tears from filling her eyes. Squeezing Rhaela’s hand, she gave her a bracing smile, nodded and stood. Aurelia and Howzer walked into the home carrying the supply bags at that moment. Aurelia was focused, moving to place them on the table and already opening the compartments, knowing exactly what she was after. Howzer glanced over at Falco briefly, his face full of uncomfortable sadness for the couple, but unsure what his place was, or how to be of use in this situation. Lara looked up at the captain and said quickly, “Howzer, please go find Turk, Dorian and Primer - ask them to come here. I’m going to need their help. Be quick, please.” Her tone was a professional command and brooked no argument. Howzer hurried from the home to do as ordered.

Lara and Volte worked quickly to get the room set up for the procedure, laying out the items and sterile packs they would need. She and Volte would do the surgery, while Aurelia kept Rhaela medicated and sedated, and Lara planned to have Turk and Dorian help with her airway and the baby when delivered. Primer she needed to support Falco. She wouldn’t ask him to leave his wife and child, but she wasn’t going to have him there alone if the worst occurred. The men soon turned up as requested, and Lara explained their roles to them. They nodded solemnly and immediately got themselves in the proper mindset for the challenge ahead.

Aurelia got an IV started on Rhaela and the fluids hooked up without issue. Lara drew up the appropriate doses of meds to sedate the young woman, and to keep her under for the surgery. “Rely, these are good for the first few rounds of the induction, but you’ll probably have to draw up a few more doses from the vials.” Aurelia nodded succinctly. She knew her job. She helped get Rhaela settled in her bed with some protective sheeting beneath her to catch blood and fluids, and then washed up quickly, returning to the girl’s bedside to don gloves. Lara got everyone masked up and to their places, then nodded to Aurelia to push the first doses of sedation and pain medication. Looking into Rhaela’s eyes, Lara did her best to assure the brave girl as her green eyes started to get glassy with sleep and medications.

Once she was deeply under with the versed and fentanyl on board, Lara had Rely push a new medication - rocuronium - to temporarily paralyze the mother’s muscles and have her relaxed enough to allow a medical airway to be placed. Lara picked up her laryngoscope quickly, positioned herself behind Rhaela’s head, opened her mouth with her right hand, and inserted the blade of the laryngoscope to push the girl’s tongue out of the way and expose her vocal cords to Lara’s sight. She inserted the endotracheal tube with practiced ease, and removed the stylet within, attaching an AMBU bag to the end of the tube with one hand and skills long learned. Watching for chest rise, she saw Rely quickly listen with a stethoscope for breath sounds or gastric gurgling, but the girl glanced up at Lara with a confirming nod. The tube was in place correctly. Lara moved to tape it securely to Rhaela’s mouth and cheek, then handed monitoring of the airway and respiration to Turk. She and Volte washed up and opened the sterile surgical trays and equipment, Lara donning a sterile gown and gloves and setting the field up with Volte’s help. When she was done, he did the same, getting dressed for the procedure and stepping up to Rhaela’s side. The two surgeons looked at each other, took a breath and nodded.

“Okay for a quick time out, team. We are going to do this c-section on Rhaela because we’re out of options to deliver naturally. Turk, you have the airway. Dorian, for now you are waiting to catch the baby. Aurelia, you are in charge of monitoring the vitals and administering the meds. Volte - you got any questions?” Volte shook his head. “Okay, I’ll make the first incision.” Lara reached over to the table and removed a scalpel, placing her left hand on Rhaela’s abdomen, pulling the skin back slightly, and at the base of her uterus at the pubic line, made a cut about six inches long. Volte quickly dabbed at the welling blood with gauze.

Lara worked swiftly to get through the layers of tissues, avoiding important structures carefully until she could see the outer surface of the uterus. Looking up quickly at Dorian, she said, “You ready D? Two minutes to having this baby out.”

“I’m ready General,” he said quickly, poised with a couple of clean blankets, ready to accept the child from Volte, who would hand it off to Dorian.

“Okay here we go.” Lara quickly cut into the uterus, working to avoid going too deeply; she didn’t want to accidentally nick the baby. She carefully stretched the incision, trying to avoid making it too big; there was benefit to leaving the incision slightly tight so as to squeeze the infant’s lungs of amniotic fluid and mimic the passage through the birth canal. She felt for the little head and got her fingers around and under it, directing it to the incision she’d made and gently pulling it out. She and Volte paused for a moment to clean the field of all the amniotic fluid and blood present, and then Lara reached back into Rhaela’s womb to grasp the child’s shoulder. Lifting it towards the opening, she worked first one and then the other free, feeling the body slide more quickly now from its former home of nine months. Lara lifted the infant’s body free of Rhaela and placed it on the sterile field, over the gap between her legs, working with Volte to clamp and cut the umbilical cord and clean the surgical field again of blood. Free of his mother’s womb and the placenta now, Volte quickly handed the newborn over to Dorian, who enfolded the boy in the warm, clean blankets and quickly stepped over to another table to work at waking the baby up, vigorously wiping at the vernix covering his skin, stimulating him until the baby let out a breathtaking, loud squawk. Internally, both Lara and Volte sighed with relief at the sound, but were working quickly to get Rhaela’s c-section finished and her sewed back up.

Lara reached once more into her womb to deliver the placenta. She placed it on the sterile field as she had the baby, and Volte quickly assessed it for completeness, nodding to Lara when he checked it. “Complete, General.”

“Good. Good, good, good,” Lara breathed. She worked to clean Rhaela’s uterus out as best she could, irrigating and scraping it clean of any remnants of birth so there would be minimal risk of infection after. When she was satisfied, she started working to sew up the incision site, which required multiple layers of sutures. Satisfied that the uterus was no longer bleeding, Lara started working on closing Rhaela’s abdomen back up, and they finished when Volte put in the final sutures and staples. They wiped her belly clean, watching it for any last oozing, and then took deep breaths out of relief. Aurelia looked up at them with a smile that spoke volumes of her own happiness at their apparent success, and pride in what their small team had accomplished. Falco had gone over to meet and hold his new son, Dorian handing the baby off to the new father with a happy smile for his teammate. Primer had watched the whole affair with a look of silent concern and solemnity, and he only broke into a smile when he saw Lara stand to her full height, stretching her shoulders and letting out the tense breath she’d been holding the entire time.

Lara glanced over at her first in command, their eyes meeting quietly. He gave her a little one sided smile of pride and congratulations, and Lara smiled back beneath her mask. Then she looked at Volte. The medic looked strangely… distracted, even a little shattered for some reason. Like he was looking at a scene of devastation and not success. Lara’s brows knit a little in confusion and she reached over to him, touching his arm softly. “Volte? You okay?” His eyes snapped up to hers suddenly, as if his mind had been far away.

“I’m fine, General. Good work. We did good work.” He tried to make his words sound strong and sure, but Lara could hear a faint note of confusion still there, like he was lost in a memory he couldn’t shake.

“Help me get all this taken down and scrub out. Go get some air.” Lara felt concern for him, but wasn’t sure what was wrong. He did as she’d directed, getting all of the instruments back to their tray, helping her break down the sterile field and clean up from their work. Volte stripped off his gloves, gown and mask and then left the home almost as if chased by ghosts. Even Primer watched him go with a look of concern. Primer met Lara’s eyes, full of questions for Volte’s behavior. Lara shrugged and shook her head - she wasn’t sure what was wrong, but she had two patients to attend to at the moment and couldn’t do anything about Volte.

She quickly checked the baby and the mother over, assuring both herself and Falco that they were doing well. Aurelia and Turk sat with Rhaela for a while longer, monitoring her vitals and maintaining her airway. By the time Lara was finished with her work in the little home, Rhaela was breathing on her own and seemed to be stable. Lara ordered Turk to remove the breathing tube, and remained to watch the girl, making sure she continued breathing independently a bit longer. Aurelia looked up to Lara and said, “Go after Volte. I’ll stay until she wakes up.”

Lara looked at Aurelia gratefully, reached over and squeezed her shoulder, and turned to leave. Primer stepped over to her quickly, following her out the door. “Do you need me to go with you to find him?”

Lara shook her head. “I’ve got it. I don’t think this talk will follow a path you know much about. But thanks. Watch over them for me and if Rely needs something, come get me pronto, okay?”

Primer stopped walking and called to Lara’s retreating form, “Will do, General.” He watched her for a minute longer, the pride he felt in her swelling for a moment, then he turned and walked back to Falco’s home in silence.

Lara found Volte sitting on her little hill, listening to the waves. His eyes were distant and his mind was far away, tears falling softly down his cheeks. She studied him in profile for a moment; he didn’t even acknowledge that he’d noticed her, he was so distracted. Lara pursed her lips a bit and moved to sit next to him without a word. He’d come back eventually, and she would be here when he was ready to talk. It was well over an hour though, before she felt him take a deep breath, hesitate, and then reach for words.

“Sorry, General, I just kind of… lost myself there for a minute.” To be honest, he still sounded rather lost, Lara thought quietly. She looked over at him from the side, her blue eyes studying him silently. Lara waited for Volte to make the next move.

Volte saw her watching him patiently, and sighed. “You ever have those moments, when you wonder if you did everything you could for someone you didn’t manage to save?”

Oh, so many, Lara thought to herself quietly. She looked off, over the waves before them, losing herself in the question and a swell of memories. “We all have those moments, Volte. The frustration of loss, of not being able to best Death - every medical person faces that at some point, if not multiple times. It’s a sign that you’re a good one, someone who cares.” She met his eyes firmly, trying to convey the depth of her meaning.

Volte nodded as if she’d verified something to be right, that he’d been thinking. He looked down at the grass and pulled a blade, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, focusing on it as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d seen in a long time. After a long pause, he said a little haltingly, “I know we didn’t lose this time, but when we were sewing her up, I suddenly remembered the face of another person, from the war. She was a citizen on Falucia, and had taken a bad shrapnel wound to the gut. She was bleeding to death, right there in front of me, and her husband was there, begging me to save her. She was pregnant, probably close to her due date. And I just remembered his voice as he pleaded with me, to save her life. To save the child.” Volte stopped, his mind working to deal with the flooding memories. “I couldn’t save either of them. I had no idea, no training, on how to deliver a child.” It had never come up in either conversation or education. It wasn’t something the GAR thought a combat medic would ever need, nor should waste money and time on teaching. “I watched her life drain away, knowing her baby was dying too, and could do nothing, but hold her hand, while her husband grieved beside her. I felt so helpless, so useless.” He bowed his head, bringing his hands up to cover his face, breathing deeply to steady himself.

Lara listened patiently; Volte had to tell the story himself, let the grief roll through him so he could address it properly. She watched as he came to grips with the truths of his past self, and where he’d come to now. The truth was, there were no better teachers than time and experience. And he was right - why would the Kaminoans have trained him for obstetrics? They weren’t bred for community health work - the GAR medics existed to put their brothers back together and keep them fighting. But Lara knew after her long years of life, that the bitterness of helpless loss could still rise up to choke a good medic regardless of the reality of their situation. There were times when she’d watched good people die in her arms, because the technology didn’t exist yet for her to help them.

The two sat in silence for a while, letting the sounds of nature wash over them. “Sorry I let it get to me back there, General. Seems kind of silly now, since the whole operation went so well.” Volte looked over at Lara with a slightly sheepish grin.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Every medical person I’ve ever met is haunted, Volte. Our ghosts follow us around, reminding us of what might have been if we could only just take that extra step, find that miracle cure, have the right equipment. I’ll be honest - the ghosts only multiply when you start working with children.” She stole a glance at him, seeing if he was following. Volte wore a look of foreboding, hearing her say that. Lara shrugged a little. “Adults have lived their lives, made mistakes, learned, experienced, while kids have their whole future ahead of them. Losing a child is like seeing someone completely robbed of everything they might be, stealing someone from the future that might have cured cancer or solved the greatest problem known to life. Plus, there’s the parents who brought that child into the world out of their love for each other. Children are hard. But man they’re brave. Holy shit, Volte, they’re the bravest patients you will ever know.”

Lara looked hard into his eyes, and he saw for a moment that there were tears in hers. “They will fight and fight and fight, having no idea what life really is, whether it will be rewarding or continued pain for them, but they don’t give up. The struggle I’ve seen them shoulder - children carry the weight of the world and don’t even know it, but yet they do it gladly, with an excitement no adult will ever get back. Those kids on Earth that I take care of on ECMO - they push Death back every day, playing with the medical staff, doing their therapy with a giant hose in their necks, strapped to their head, or coming out of their chest, and yet - THEY STILL FIGHT!” Lara stopped, her face truly awed at the memory of some of her patients. “I’ve seen a lot of death and suffering in my time, but no warrior I’ve ever met can equal the spirit of a child fighting for their life. It’s a strength only they possess and can tap into.”

Lara shook her head, looking down at the grass. A dark look crossed her face momentarily. “But when they run out of that strength, when we lose them no matter how valiantly they fought, it’s the most soul crushing thing to experience. And once they cross that veil, Volte, when you know they’ve turned away and you can’t get them back - you would do anything, ANYTHING, if you could just reach out and grab their hand, keep them with you.” Her eyes misted over a bit, seeing a memory from another time. “I’ll never forget the sound of a mother when her little boy let go. She howled - howled - with grief, a torn sound from the bottom of her soul. She pleaded for him to come back, because she knew - he’d crossed that divide. He’d turned away, and there was no coming back.”

Lara stopped for a long moment, tears silently falling down her cheeks. “The sound of her pain and loss will never leave me. Just like that lady on Falucia will never leave you. You will face loss, Volte; it’s just the reality of being a medical officer. We cannot win every time. And for every success, it seems you pay in the blood of another. But you can’t give up - you’re invaluable to Nidhogg, to your brothers and their families. You can’t let the ghosts stop you from saving others. We take the pain and the risk, challenge Death at every turn, fight back against the darkness, so that others might live. Ut alii vivant. Fighting and sacrifice was what you and I were made for. We were given strength, determination and stamina so that we could face both loss and victory in equal measure and continue on. You are courageous enough to keep going, even in the face of failure - it’s that tenacity and flame I saw in you the first day, that made me choose you for Dragon Company. And why I know without a doubt, that you will be the best physician I’ve ever known.” Lara put her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him proudly. “I won’t always be here to help. But I KNOW this colony - these people - are in the best hands.”

Her smile for him was firm and determined, sure in her words. She believed in Volte completely, and he could feel it. Volte looked down at the ground for a moment, absorbing all she’d told him. It was a daunting thing, looking to the future and knowing he would have to step up and make all the decisions himself sooner than later. Lara was right - she wouldn’t always be here to hold his hand. But knowing that she was behind him in thought and spirit, knowing she believed in him utterly - that meant so much to him. He could do his job, knowing he had her support and faith. Volte met his General’s eyes steadily and nodded, a small shy smirk forming on his face. “Thanks, General. For everything.” She gave him a small smirk back and nodded, then turned away to watch the gulls flying over the water before them. The two sat in companionable silence for a long time, two best friends bonded by mutual experience, mission and their ghosts.

#worksbyclonemedickix #OC General Lara Lin #OC CMO Volte #OC Captain Volte #starwars fandom #the clone wars fanfiction #my fanfiction #the clone wars #star wars #starwars the clone wars #the clone wars fan #the clones

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