#cos we have a session in like 1½ week

[charaznablescanontoyota]

"marn i missed sgdq 2024 what should i watch"

hi i decided i'm doing another one of these. it's been a minute. this past week was summer games done quick, an annual speedrunning marathon raising money for doctors without borders and also a great way to get into watching speedrunning. a lot of their content is tailored towards being both clearly explained and fun to watch for an audience outside the speedrun community, so you can jump in with basically no knowledge besides “this person is gonna play a game really fast”.

gdq has the full week's worth of vods up as a playlist on their channel, but here are some runs that i personally think you should check out:

ken griffy jr presents mlb by peanut butter the dog: look it's a dog playing baseball. i don't know what else to tell you.

the entire silly block: speedrunners get up way too early in the morning/late at night to play games that feel like a fever dream. some of the commentators are going on 24 hours of no sleep. it's brilliant. my personal highlights of what i've seen so far are stuart little 2, mad panic coaster, city bus simulator race, and the golf it wrong hole only race that the players dressed up as golfers for

alan wake 2 alan%: alan wake clips through walls and generally has a bad time while a bunch of gamers call him a sopping wet catboy. the runner for this one is really charismatic and it's very funny to see staff rushing to open up the pit as soon as we sing starts (yes they do the dance of course they do the dance). i just love joyful runs of horror games man

super mario 64 blindfolded randomizer: what if you played mario 64 blindfolded and also the stars were in completely random locations. and also you had to do it very very fast.

kingdom hearts 2 critical any%: every kh2 speedrun i've ever seen is a work of art and this one is no different. some of the boss fights go down so fast you will literally miss them if you look away for a minute. and also two of my favorite runners are on couch commentary!

balatro showcase: genuinely made me rethink how i'm playing some of the balatro decks. also great commentary and just fun all around despite (or perhaps partially because of) the absolute struggle session going on with plasma deck in the beginning

super mario world kaizo relay: kaizo is a shorthand term for a game hacked to its absolute limits of difficulty that often requires strict precision of movement and can punish the player for thinking they're smarter than it. in this segment, two teams of 4 very very good mario runners race to complete 8 kaizo levels they've never seen before in their lives

mario maker 2 troll level race: i always like the mario maker races for the same reason i like the kaizo relays. i love watching two speedrunners thrown blindly into the shit have to make up strategies on the fly via trial and error (and error, and error, and error, and...)

kirby air ride race: two high level kirby air ride speedrunners race for an actual physical title belt. the trash talk game happening here is of the insane variety that only two very skilled people who truly respect each others' talents at their game of choice can provide

kaizo mario galaxy: what if mario galaxy hated you even more than usual and would stop at nothing to kill you. also most of the commentators are only familiar with the vanilla game and their reactions to the added-in bullshit are hysterical

tony hawk pro skater 1, 2, 3, and 4: i fell asleep watching this and woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of a bunch of people singing superman by goldfinger. good run

super mario rpg remake: this was the finale block and it's just great to see a bunch of people who really really love the original mario rpg get to hang out and talk about how good it is and also watch a world record level player absolutely stunt on the game

halo 3 four-player co-op legendary: dudes rock

[fanauthorworkshop]

Applications now open!

The Fall 2024 Fanauthor Workshop is a 7-week writing course led by Betts (@bettsfic). The workshop lends a supportive space to writers who identify as fans to receive constructive feedback on fanfiction, original fiction, or creative nonfiction.

Art by @emimayooo 💖

Where & When

We meet weekly over Zoom. You can apply for one of two sessions:

Group A: Wednesdays from Oct. 9 - Nov. 20, 12-2pm EST

Group B: Mondays from Oct. 7 - Nov. 18, 6-8pm EST

What

FAW is a feedback-oriented workshop with the occasional generative session. This means that each week we read 2 pieces submitted by participants, offer written feedback, and discuss them over Zoom. You'll be able to sign up for the week you would like to workshop your own piece, which can be anything under 6k words.

There may be weeks where, in lieu of workshopping, I present external readings and writing exercises. These sessions will be dependent on the number of participants. For example, if we have 10 participants and 6 workshop weeks, that means one week will be devoted to a reading discussion and generative activity.

I developed a workshop model that focuses mostly on affirmations and positivity, as well as descriptive over prescriptive feedback, which is to say, describing one's experience of reading rather than prescribing solutions to perceived problems. We also present improvement-oriented feedback, but avoid negativity, judgment, and pedantry. Week 1 is spent going over the model and how to give feedback.

About FAW

The first FAW was held in 2017 as an independent study in my MFA. I restarted it in 2022 and since then have led 9 sessions with a total of over 50 participants, about half of whom have participated in the workshop more than once.

Participation in the workshop includes entrance into the FAW community, an active Discord server where we host:

Ongoing accountability meetings, where we chat over Zoom about our projects and set goals for ourselves every other week

A monthly longform writing workshop, where writers can workshop any story between 6k and 100k words

A short story club, where we read and chat about original short form works

Events and activities like movie nights and co-op gaming

Scheduled write-ins and impromptu writing sprints

We also chat about writing and craft, offer resources, and share many, many pet photos.

In addition, participants of the workshop receive:

A one-hour consultation with me to go over your workshop feedback, come up with a plan for revision and/or publication, or anything else you’d like to discuss regarding your writing

Open enrollment in future workshops

Priority sign-ups for WTFS (Write the Fucking Story), WIP Cleanout, and other one-off generative sessions

Eligibility

Anyone over the age of 18 who considers themselves a participant of fandom and who is familiar with fanfiction may apply. A stable internet connection is also required.

Cost

The cost of the workshop is "pay what you can" with the recommended amount of $300. To be as inclusive as possible, I don't want money to be a deterrent for anyone interested in participating.

Payment (or notification of nonpayment) will be requested prior to the start of workshop via PayPal, Venmo, or Wise. You can also pay in installments.

Application requirements

To apply, you will need:

An informal cover letter discussing your fan history and goals as a (fan)writer (more specific instructions on submittable)

A short sample of your writing, either original work or fanfiction. This may be previously published/posted

You can apply via submittable. Applications close September 15.

FAQ under the cut

FAQ

Are there any content restrictions to what I can workshop?

The only restriction is word count (max 6k), with the following caveats:

If you workshop a piece in a form other than prose (for example, a script), your peers may not be able to offer constructive feedback on that aspect of the work. Participants are asked only to have a familiarity with prose.

Content warnings are required for each piece (if applicable), and participants who are uncomfortable reading certain subject matter may abstain from your workshop.

What is the time commitment of the workshop?

As a participant of the workshop, you'll be asked to:

Workshop any piece of your own prose up to 6k words, which will need to be uploaded to the group folder one week before your workshop.

Read 2 pieces per week, write out your individual crit, and attend the workshop itself.

What is the timeline of the workshop?

In week 1, we go over the syllabus and do a writing exercise. Weeks 2 through 7 will be a workshop, a discussion of an external reading, or a writing activity. Prior to the start of workshop, you'll be able to sign up for the week you would like to workshop your piece.

Structure of the sessions:

Question of the day

First workshop

Short break

Second workshop

We'll go over my workshop model and the syllabus in week 1.

Do I have to participate in the Zoom meetings (camera and mic on)?

Attending the workshop itself is required, and everyone is asked to offer at least one note of positive feedback on each piece, so mics are necessary. Cameras are preferred but not required.

You can't asynchronously participate, i.e. read the pieces and offer written feedback without attending the sessions.

Can workshop participants submit to OFIC Magazine?

Yes! Part of the reason I run the workshop is to inspire and promote the original work of fanwriters. You can follow us on tumblr @oficmag.

Who is running the workshop?

@bettsfic! In short, I lived a dreary cubicle life as a banker until I found fanfiction at 24. I loved it so much that I quit my job to get an MFA in creative writing. I loved the MFA so much that I became a writing teacher. I have some publications, awards, an agent, and 2 million words of fic on ao3. I don't have a book out yet but I'm getting there.

Currently I'm a writing coach and freelance editor. I also have a lowkey writing-related newsletter. And I've been answering writing advice asks on my blog for 10 years.

If you want an idea of the kind of writing activities I create, last summer I worked with @books on a workshop series which includes craft essays and some fun prompts.

If you're interested in my original work, my short story "Not If, When" is a good representation of my writing. For something darker, check out "Shut Up and Kill Me."

What is the workshop like?

Check out G's experience of attending the workshop. And here's some feedback from previous participants.

One final note: I'm working on updating the copy about the workshop on my website and move it over to OFIC's website. This post and Submittable has the most updated information on the workshop. If you have questions about discrepancies (or anything at all), you can shoot me an ask, DM me, or add me on Discord (I'm bettsfic there too). Or you can email me at ekweeks@gmail.com.

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Patti Smith - Max's Kansas City, New York City, September 1, 1974

Patti Smith popped up on Instagram this week to mark the 50th anniversary of her epochal independent single "Piss Factory / Hey Joe (Version)," recorded on June 5, 1974 at Electric Lady on W. 8th St.

"A 3 hour session financed by Robert Mapplethorpe and produced by Lenny Kaye. It features Lenny, our beautiful late pianist Richard Sohl and Tom Verlaine on Hey Joe. I can still remember the sense of wonder recording this single in Jimi Hendrix’s studio. Never dreaming we would be back in a year recording Horses."

Listening to it five decades later, it still sounds weird and feral; like Television's "Little Johnny Jewel," its spiritual twin seven-inch, the music here seems to suggest other possibilities; not really what became known as punk per se, but an unearthly fusion of beat poetry, art-damaged garage rock and pure NYC energy. Even compared to what came after for Patti, Lenny and Richard, it's unique!

Also unique is this audience tape of the trio performing at Max's in the late summer of '74. Television opened up — you can hear a recording of them from this run over yonder. Without a drummer or bassist, Patti and co. are spare and skeletal, but not without a revved-up sensibility; the opening cover of "We're Gonna Have A Real Good Time Together" tells the audience this ain't a poetry reading.

From there, they bounce around from torch songs to embryonic originals that would end up on Horses to a handful of novelty songs. The latter category is interesting — Patti had previously played cabarets and you can see how she might've fit into the world of, say Bette Midler at the time. An odd confluence, but hey, it was 1974 in NYC. Anything goes, baby!

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 1

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Your therapist tries a new method of treatment to help you with your fears.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, rape, non con, dub con, oral, p in v sex, fingering, fear play, crying, rape (again. I’m really emphasizing this lol), forced breeding, unprotected sex, threats of involuntary admission to asylum

Words | 3k

Notes | This is rape. Just straight up. Sure she’s attracted to him and trying not to think of it like that but it’s literally just rape. Final warning.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Prologue

You had been meeting with Dr. Crane for a few weeks now. You were mostly just talking, sometimes he’d have you try something to start to get you more comfortable living normally. But the progress was slow overall. 

“There is another form of treatment we could try.” He suggested, setting his pen down on the notebook and giving you his full attention. 

“If you think it’ll help.” You shrugged. 

“Do you know what exposure therapy is?” 

“Um… yeah. But isn’t that for phobias of bugs or heights?” 

“Usually, yes. But those aren’t the only types of fear this technique can help with.” 

“Oh… I’m not sure I understand, Dr. Crane.” 

“Do you trust me?” 

“Of course.” You nodded. 

“In our first session you told me it feels like you’re living everyday waiting to become part of the statistic.”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re already part of the statistic, do you think you’ll still feel that way?”

“Um… I guess not? I don’t understand what you’re getting at.” He set his notebook and pen down on the coffee table, then stood up, making his way to the empty side of the couch as you stared at him in confusion. 

“You’re lucky you came to me, you know. Most doctors don’t care enough to try everything possible to help their patients.” You gave a small smile in response, not able to talk before he continued. “In order for this to work you need to trust me completely, can you do that?”

“Yes, but I’m still not sure what it is you’re doing.” He stared at you for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh and taking off his glasses. He set them on the table, then met your gaze again. 

“Studies show that patients who relive traumatic experiences in controlled environments can actually better overcome that trauma. Now in your case it’s slightly different because your fears were not born out of trauma, but I still think it can help.” He paused as he debated what to say next. 

“With the kinks you’ve indulged in already, the environment might have been a little too controlled.” You furrowed your brows, trying to understand. “Putting you in a situation that is controlled, just not by you, should be effective.” He said, placing a hand on your thigh. 

“Dr. Crane, what-“ He shushed you, slowly rubbing his hand up and down your thigh, each time getting closer to your skirt. 

“You know, I thought about doing this at your house- maybe wear a mask so you didn’t know it was me. But that wouldn’t be controlled enough. So I knew it had to be here.” He said quietly, an unnerving smile on his lips. “With someone you trust.” When he slowly started leaning forward, you moved back until you were laying on the couch with him hovering above you. 

“There’s nothing to be frightened of- I’m no heathen. This isn’t about committing a violent act against a defenseless woman, it’s about helping you work through your fears. I have every intention of making sure you can take me comfortably.” He maneuvered himself between your legs, your skirt rising as they parted. Your eyes widened at his words, finally understanding. 

“I don’t- I don’t think I want to try this treatment.” You whimpered, shrinking back into the couch. 

“You don’t know what you want. That’s why you’re here. If you knew how to help yourself, you wouldn’t have come to me.” He pawed at your clothes, pushing your cropped sweater up, then pulling your bra down beneath your breasts. 

“If you behave, I can make this more comfortable for you. But if not, I’ll have to just get right to it, do you understand?” Your bottom lip quivered as you stared at him with wide, frightened, unable to move or speak. “Answer me.” He growled, making you flinch at the harsh tone. 

“Y-yes.” 

“Good.” He said simply, leaning down to take your nipple in his mouth. You laid there frozen, trembling beneath him, but despite your fear, you couldn’t deny the fact that what he was doing felt good. Maybe if this was someone else, someone you weren’t attracted to, then it’d be easier for your body to understand that this scenario was supposed to be bad. When his teeth lightly nipped at the sensitive bud, your breath hitched, making him pull back with a smirk. 

“That’s it, see? Just let it happen and it’ll feel good.” He moved on to your other nipple, working it over in his mouth until he was satisfied. He pulled back with a wet pop and looked up at you through his lashes. 

He moved down your body, but because of the small couch, decided to kneel on the floor. When he pulled you forward so your hips were on the edge, the movement caused your skirt to get stuck between the cushion and your ass, raising it even more, making your cheeks heat up. Your blush intensified as he pushed the fabric up until it rested around your waist. 

“Shorts.” He said quietly to himself, placing his hands on your hips and tracing his thumbs over the fabric. “Do you wear this because you think this will help?” He asked, looking back at your face. You nodded silently, making his lips turn up in a small smirk. “Because of your obsession with statistics, you should know that clothing choices do not deter rapists.” He said, raising his brows questioningly. 

“I know… it just makes me feel better.” 

“So desperate for some semblance of control over your fears.” He chuckled quietly, making you frown in response. When he started pulling your shorts down, you grabbed his wrists. The look he gave you made you tremble even more, but you quickly relaxed your grip, letting him continue. 

“Do something like that again and I'll skip this part, do you understand?” 

“Please,” You whispered, holding back tears as he removed your shorts. “Please don’t do this.” You said through a sob when he reached for your underwear. He ignored you, pulling the fabric off your body and discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. You jolted when he suddenly swiped two fingers through your folds. 

“See, you beg me not to, but you’re soaked. Is that why you’re so afraid? Because you know you’ll like it?” You clenched your eyes with a quiet sob and shook your head. When wet heat engulfed your clit, you choked on a gasp. He started out slow, licking and sucking delicately. You tried to control your hips and not let them buck toward the pleasure, but trying to do that as well as control your sounds proved to be a difficult feat. 

It felt good. Honestly you’re not sure you’ve ever been eaten out this good in your life. He was almost as passionate about it as he was with his work. When he plunged two fingers into your drooling hole, you couldn’t help the low whine you let out. He looked up at you through his lashes, smirking against your sex. 

Maybe if you just think of this as you finally getting to fuck the man who’s been plaguing your every thought for the past few weeks, then it won’t be as bad. After all, he did say he had no intention of making this painful for you. So it wouldn’t be too hard to think of this in a different light. 

“You don’t seem scared anymore. Have you finally accepted it or is there another reason?” He asked, still curling his fingers against your walls. 

“Maybe you’re dissociating to cope. Unfortunately if that’s the case… I am going to have to get you out of that state so you can experience the full extent of this treatment.” You stared at him almost blankly, trying desperately to not focus on his words. 

“If this behavior persists in future sessions though, I might have to put you on antipsychotics.” That got your attention. 

“Future sessions?” You all but scoffed, quickly closing your mouth after speaking to keep the sounds in. 

“Yes, I’ll need to monitor you closely after this treatment. I think three meetings a week should be sufficient.” You swallowed down a whimper when his thumb started circling your clit, then forced yourself to respond. 

“You seriously think I’m coming back here?” He swiftly removed his fingers, making you release a choked sound. 

“If that’s the case, I’m afraid I’ll have to admit you.” He said, casually wiping your arousal off his fingers on your skirt. 

“Admit me?” 

“To Arkham Asylum.” He said simply. 

“What the fuck is that?” 

“Honestly, did you do any research before moving here?” 

“N-no. I couldn’t afford to live anywhere else…” You muttered. He hummed in acknowledgement and stood up. 

“Arkham Asylum is a psychiatric hospital in Gotham City, primarily housing the criminally insane. I am the acting chief psychiatrist there.” He shrugged off his jacket, placing it over the coffee table. 

“I’m not criminally insane.” You said skeptically, rising to a sitting position just in case you’ll have an opportunity to run. 

“No? That’s not what my diagnosis tells me.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” You spat, feeling your heart pound harder in your chest. 

“Maybe you weren’t criminally insane when we first started our sessions. But yesterday you went through something traumatic that triggered a psychotic break, causing you to try to harm me during our meeting today.” You stared at him in shock, too caught off guard to say anything. “Which is why I’ve deemed you a threat to yourself and others and recommend immediate hospitalization for psychiatric evaluation.” 

“You’re fucking insane.” You whispered, not sure what else to say. 

“I’m simply a doctor who’s dedicated to studying the effects of fear on the human mind. And I have to say, I am very excited to study yours.” 

“So- what, you’re just going to have me committed? As soon as I have the evaluation I’m going to tell them everything.” He let out a dark chuckle and gave you a knowing look. 

“Truly brilliant plan. I’m looking forward to seeing how it works out when I evaluate you.” Any and all confidence or leverage you might’ve had was gone in an instant. 

“Then… I- I’ll say I want someone else.” You said quietly. 

“Were you not listening when I said I’m the chief psychiatrist there? I'm the one who decides who evaluates you.” 

“But- that’s a conflict of interest.” He smirked as you floundered for a suitable threat. 

“That’s the beauty of Gotham. Everyone and everything here is corrupt. No one cares if there’s a conflict of interest.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling trapped and out of options. “But don’t worry, I won’t start my research until you’re officially a patient. Today is just about your treatment.” 

He was on you before you could even blink, pinning you down by your neck with one hand, the other opening his pants just enough to take his cock out. As you clawed at his arm and his face, you realized the consequences of anxiously picking at your nails- they did nothing to harm him. 

“No-“ You cried, trying to push him away when the blunt head of his cock bushed your slit. “Stop- Help!” You yelled, making him tighten his grip on your neck and push down on your windpipe. 

“No one can hear you so shut up.” He hissed, pushing his hips forward. Your body tensed at the pressure against your hole. When his length finally pushed in, you tried to let out a pained scream, but the only noise you could make was a pathetic squeak. He let out a low groan, closing his eyes with furrowed brows and opening his mouth in a silent moan. 

“Fuck, that’s good.” He said through a moan. He continued pushing in until his hips were flush with your body. The pressure on your cervix was almost unbearable and you silently begged him to not stay here long. “You’re so wet. Why is that?” His voice was strained as he tried to control his arousal. His grip loosened on your neck and you took in a huge breath, then started coughing. 

“Fuck you.” You rasped, throat a little sore.

“I always love the mouthy ones. Makes it all the more satisfying when they break.” He sneered. You sighed in relief as the pressure on your cervix decreased while he slowly pulled out. But as he slammed back in, you weren’t sure what hurt more: the pressure on your cervix or the burning stretch of your walls. His pace picked up quickly until he was pounding your abused hole relentlessly, even with your cries and pleads for him to stop. He shushed you, gently brushing your hair behind your ear, making you flinch away from his touch. 

“Calm down. It’ll feel good once you relax.” He said, almost annoyed. You cried silently, arms laying limp by your sides after trying unsuccessfully to push him away for several minutes. You just wanted to get it over with. 

“Fuck- this pussy feels good. When you’re locked away, I’m going to make sure we have daily sessions to continue your treatment.” You let out a choked sob and shook your head. 

“No,” You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks, making him buck his hips even faster. “No- please.” You whimpered. 

“Yeah. It’s not effective as a one time thing. This kind of treatment needs to be done regularly, in fact, we might have to have more than one session a day.” You sobbed silently, trying to just dissociate again or something- anything. But the brutal pounding of his cock made it hard to focus on anything else. 

“I forgot to tell you- this treatment isn’t only for your fear of being raped.” You stared at him blankly as you processed his words, eyes widening once you understood.

“No-“ You said, much more assertive this time. But he was not deterred. 

“Yes.” He growled, rutting into you animalistically as he chased his pleasure. “I’m gonna come in this tight little cunt and you’re going to take every drop.” 

“No!” Your arms were active again, desperately working to push him away. 

“If you behave and be a good little inmate, then maybe I’ll let you keep taking birth control.” 

“Please,” You choked out, “Please don’t do this, Dr. Crane.” You cried, feeling the knot of arousal in your stomach, despite your words. 

“As hot as the begging is, if you keep running that little fuck hole, I will take away your contraceptive privileges.” You had no reason to not believe him, so you obeyed, only letting out violent sobs. “That’s better. Good girl.” He groaned, putting a hand back on your neck. His hips snapped into you ruthlessly, your hole aching out of discomfort and desperation and your breasts moving embarrassingly with each thrust, adding to your shame. When he reached a hand down to your clit, you muttered out a quiet, “No,” and shook your head. 

“I know you’re about to come. Just give in.” His fingers rubbed fast circles over it, making your hips twitch from the friction. And he was right. You were about to come, especially now that he was stimulating your clit. You tried to hold it, to not let yourself give him an obvious display of your unwanted pleasure, but it was useless. You came with a cry, this one more like a moan than a sob. His hips stuttered as your walls convulsed around him, but he never stopped thrusting. 

After you finished, he removed his fingers and focused on his own orgasm, not needing much more before burying himself inside you, uncomfortably deep. Your sobbing intensified as you felt hot come coating your walls.  

“Fuck- that’s it. Take it- take my come. Right in your fucking womb.” He growled, reaching a hand down to press on your lower stomach. “Can you feel how deep I am? Can you feel me right up against your cervix? You’re gonna have no choice but to get pregnant. Maybe not today… But I am going to knock you up eventually.” You let out a broken cry, laying completely still beneath him. 

After coming down from his orgasm, he slowly dragged his cock out of you, then forced your legs open to watch his come leak out of your abused hole. He pushed it back in with a small smirk. 

“We don’t want to waste any.” He explained. When he was satisfied, he rose from the couch, tucking himself back in his pants, then walked over to his desk. You watched through hazy eyes, blurry with unshed tears, as he searched for something. 

I should try to run now, you thought. He’s distracted, I can probably do it. But your body could barely obey. With much effort, you rose to a seated position, trying to ready your wobbly legs to hold you up. Before you could though, he was already walking back to you, one hand pushing you back on the couch, the other behind his back. He clumsily righted your clothes as you laid there, defeated. When he brought his other hand up from behind his back, you stiffened at the sight of a syringe. 

“What is that?” You muttered, trying to push yourself away from him, further into the couch. 

“A sedative. Someone is going to pick you up and take you to a holding room. I should be there to evaluate you by the time you wake up.” You shook your head as your heart started pounding in your chest again. 

“No- no, please. Please, I don't want to go.” You whimpered, flinching back when he grabbed your cheeks and turned your head to the side. Before you could react, the needle was already puncturing your skin. “Please don’t. I don’t wanna go.” You slurred, eyes growing heavy, and he shushed you gently. 

“I’ll see you soon.” 

Part 2

[adalricus]

Infatuated with you (pt.2)

Cw: mafia themes, yandere themes stalking, coercion, power abuse, non-consented surveillance, kidnapping, totally not proofread

Pt.1. Pt. 3

It had been a few weeks since you'd gotten into your current ... situation. It's safe to say you've met your fair share of people and persolities so far like...

Mi-Young Allison who was a Korean-american and your co-model, she was calm and always seemed to have something going on in her head then she would lead on. You asked what her name meant and it was truly suitable for her. She always seemed to be where you are, but you felt you had something on your chest around her. Suddenly one day you broke down and told her everything "Love you wouldn't understand why our boss does this, why we do this." When she said that you finally connected the dots, this whole agency was a front to make more money and she was a apart of it you tried to move away from her but she grabbed you. She was oddly strong and held you to her body."My lovely, maybe all the people here won't blatantly show how much they love you. I care about you and so does everyone here. More over there's no way any of us are letting you go, not ever."

Then you met a man by the name Jean Dubois who was happy so happy it was almost scary. He was the secretary " g'morning (y/n), how are you?" He asked as gleefully as usual "I'm fine, tired as all what about you?" You replied "I'm honestly elated now that you're her darling, oh and the boss is back in town tomorrow he wants to review all your photoshoots and finally meet you, so be prepared for my darling." He smiled before letting the photographer know you were there, as you walked to the designated photography room you felt your heart sink. You couldn't imagine meeting the boss

You opened the door to the room and saw your photographer Lukas Madison. Who was stoic and a man of few words. "Good morning Lukas." You greeted him "Morning" he said dryly "Sit down so we can get started." He was always so sweet during your sessions, and gently when repositioning you.

Your days felt longer than how long they actually were. You were always scared to go home so you took usually trips to your local coffee shop and sat there scrolling on on your phone eating your favorite pastry and drinking your favorite drink. "Hello are you (f/n)(l/n)?" You heard a deep voice say before looking up to see a tall man in a business suit "Y-yes why?" You replied, he sat down right after you said that "(y/n) my name is Victor Florence, I'm the CEO of your agency. I'm sure you have heard people refer to me as the boss. I don't have much time so I'd like to have a dinner with you later tonight. A chauffer will pick you, before you ask yes I do know where you live. Be ready by 8:00 pm." After he said that he got up and left. You decided to go home after the whole ordeal in disbelief. Know you had to have dinner with the man behind all of this. You can't seem to stop digging your grave can you?

[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 10

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: 17.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Fluffy Jack being old fashioned, low key voice kink, reference to food play, panty ripping because we are shameless, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, unexpected exhibitionist/voyeur kink Summary: You and Jack take a step forward on the last night of your family’s stay in Louisville, and Tex returns home with his newly minted soulmate just in time for Bobby’s going away party. Notes: I love getting to a sex scene and being surprised to find a character has a kink that I didn’t expect 😂 As always, the chosen gif has no reflection on the reader’s appearance. It’s the emotion that counts.

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

On the last day of your family's stay in Louisville, an adventure to the Louisville Slugger factory and museum ended with personalized souvenir bats for everyone and extremely good moods all around. Tomorrow morning your siblings will go their respective ways to return home and your parents will go on to spend a few days at Dollywood, and you and Jack will take another step toward your new normal. The first therapy session went well, and you have another scheduled for next week, so really...it's remarkable how settled you feel considering it was only a few days ago that you were a literal captive in an abattoir in New York City. It seems an entire lifetime away, except for the nightmares, which even seem to dissipate when you wake up from them in Jack's arms in Jack's bed.

“How about we grill tonight?” Jack suggests to you, scratching his head. It’s been a trial trying to keep you from working too hard to play hostess to your family. He can see how much you love it, but you are still recovering.

"Are you thinking burgers, or something more elaborate?" Hanging out in the backyard has been everyone's favorite place to be anyway. A little backyard barbecue for their last night in Louisville might be a fun idea. You won't point out - this time - that he's chosen a method of cooking that he excels at instead of you.

“Maybe a little bit of both?” Jack offers. “Hamburgers for the kiddos and I can introduce your family to Kentucky barbecue. Just gotta start the smoker.”

"We can do that." Sitting on the porch swing with him while your brother-in-law plays with the kids, you tip your head back to lean on his shoulder. "I can get my sister to help me with cornbread and coleslaw. Since I know you'll watch me like a hawk if I try to do it myself."

“You are supposed to be resting and I caught you in the kitchen first thing this morning.” Jack huffs at you, narrowing his eyes playfully. He doesn’t want you to feel smothered but this time is good for you to rest.

"I am resting, honey." The mere minutes of time it took you to put together a tray of things for bagels and some fruit salad compared to what you would normally do is laughable, but you know Jack is just trying to take care of you. "I didn't even start baking for Bobby’s party tomorrow. I had like six different things planned but I promise I’ve narrowed it down to only things I can do tomorrow morning."

“I swear, you don’t know the meaning of rest.” Jack grumbles. “I’m going to have to whisk you away to a private island where the only thing you can do is drink whiskey and lay in the sun.”

"Sounds like a very nice vacation." You grin, having grown to love the difference in Jack's affectionate grumbles versus when he is actually upset. When it's affectionate, it means you can tease him. "I don't think I've taken a vacation since I was still in high school."

“That’s a damn shame.” He huffs at you, watching you stick your tongue out at him. He reaches out and taps the tip of your tongue with his finger.

"Never had the time or the money." Shrugging makes it seem like it's not a big deal, especially because you don't want to get bogged down in anything too serious when Jack has been in such a good mood today. "No rest - or vacations - for the wicked."

“Then once you get the restaurant rollin’ we’ll have to go somewhere.” Jack decides. “You’ll tell me where you’ve always wanted to go and that’s what we’ll do.”

There are so many places you've dreamed of going. Places you've dreamed of seeing and food you've dreamed of eating, that you shrug your shoulders and sigh wistfully. "Japan, Australia, Morocco, France, Scotland, Thailand, Mexico, Egypt... we could go anywhere and I'd enjoy it. Just...as long as we do it together."

Jack chuckles, opening his arms and inviting you in for a hug. Those have become second nature for the two of you now. “So one big world tour.”

"Maybe." The sound and vibration of his laugh warms through you like summer sun. "Maybe we'll choose a different place every year for as long as we want."

“I like that.” He knows you would want to try the food. Spend time in each location and really learn them. “We could do that easily.”

"Then that's what we'll do." Curled into his arms, with your head on his shoulder and breath mingling together, it's easy to think of the future in such wide open terms. Like anything is possible. With him, it really feels like it is. "Maybe one day we'll find a favorite, but we'll try as many different places as we want."

“So you okay with me cookin’ tonight?” Jack asks you softly. “Catering to you for once?”

"As long as you don't stop me from helping just a little." When he frowns you put on a pronounced pout, being playful if nothing else. "I hate having nothing to do Jack, you know that. I promise to have help and to keep it to a minimum."

“Just the sides.” He tells you pointedly. “You won’t touch the grill or the smoker.”

"Deal." One hand held out to him to seal the deal, the other is twined through his at your shoulder. Anyone who could see the two of you now would be astonished to hear that you were ever at odds - all they would see is a couple that is completely enchanted with each other.

He grins and winks at you. “Now you get to experience some of my cookin’ and I expect you to be truthful.” He warns you. “No tryin’ to baby my feelin’s.”

"I promise to be honest." You give him a mock salute with a very serious face. "But I believe in you. You have too good of a palette to be a terrible cook."

“I make my own sauce and rubs.” He boasts, smirking slightly and winking at you.

"Oh yeah?" He's like a peacock almost instantly, chest puffed up and chin tilted to put his nose proudly in the air, and you can't help but giggle when he's playful like this. "You planning on showing off for me? Give me a run for my money so we're the ones all our friends want a dinner invitation from?"

"Absolutely." Jack teases. "They will want to come over when I'm cookin' for free and come to haunt your restaurant and pay dearly."

"Just think of what we'll be able to achieve when we join forces." Placing a kiss on both of his cheeks, you drop one more on his forehead before sitting back in his arms again. "This house seems made for summer parties. It's going to be fun."

"I think that was the point." Jack admits as he looks around the house that had quickly come to feel more like a home with you and your family invading every nook and cranny.

"If summer comes and I haven't driven you totally crazy, we'll have to throw a party." Even though you know he has a summer birthday, you would never bring it up now that you know why he doesn't celebrate the day. It would just be a nice summer get together for friends, nowhere near that day in August.

"Whenever you want, sugar." Jack drops a kiss on your nose and smirks. "Now....let me go get everything ready for you to have the best barbecue you've ever had." He promises.

"Yes, sir." You shift away from him and stretch, tossing him a wink before you skip down the porch steps to join your siblings in sunbathing near what will soon be the vegetable garden. As soon as you have the time and the supplies to make it one. "You guys sick of me yet?" You laugh, knowing that the three of you rarely got tired of each other's company. "Ready to go home tomorrow?"

"I've decided I'm going to move here." Your sister is kidding, but she smiles lazily over at you as she lounges in the deck chair that she has claimed as her own for the entire trip. "There is something about this place that I can't quite clock, but it's the safest I've ever felt anywhere."

"Now you see why I fell in love with it so fast." Nothing would be happier than for Eliza and Ed and the kids to move down to Louisville, but you know they're happy where they are. Only a new job would get them to even consider it, and Statesman isn't exactly hiring doctors at the moment. "One day here and I knew it was going to be the right decision."

Your parents are down at the distillery again, your father falling in love with Statesman all over again and your mother shamelessly indulging him while you are here. Eliza looks around and then stares at you seriously. "Is that why you came running to New York looking heartbroken?"

"It's..." You blow out a breath, falling back on the lawn chair beside her. "It's a complicated story."

"And?" She senses that it's not exactly something that you want to talk about right now, so she decides not to press. "You're sure you are happy here?"

“Jack and I had trouble in the beginning, you know that.” Your sister, above anyone else, knows that you struggled with where your heart lay when you first arrived at Statesman. She was on the receiving end of every phone call. “We…we had a fight. That’s why I went to the city. We had a screaming match and I got overwhelmed. It was just supposed to be a couple of days fucking around New York with Matt to take my mind off things and…” When you shrug, it’s half so you can avoid talking about being kidnapped and half to keep up the front that what you were involved in is an ongoing investigation. “Things got out of hand. But we’re talking now. And Jack and I are making things work. So…I actually am happy. It just took a little while to get here.”

“I still don’t understand why he was so resistant to another soulmate.” Eliza huffs, still not completely trusting that this is the whole story. More like your mother than she’s ever willing to admit.

“He loved Abigail a lot. Isn’t that understandable?” Since Jack had said he was okay with giving your family the old story of what happened to his first wife and unborn child - what he had thought was the truth for so long - so don’t worry about talking to them about it. Your brother and sister do their best to be understanding and sympathetic people in general. “He felt like it was being disloyal to her memory to have another. And considering second soulmates are supposed to be a myth anyway? I get it.”

“I guess.” She frowns and sighs. “I just love you, you know that right? That’s the only reason I’m worrying.”

“I know.” You loop your arm around her and hug her tight. “I love you too. And you’re entitled to kick his ass if he ever makes me sad again, how about that?”

“You know I will.” That is a promise. You are too loving to have your heart stomped on by some – albeit hot – cowboy.

“But either way, he’s making dinner for us tonight.” The promise of good food will perk up anyone in your family, and you laugh when both of your siblings immediately sit up. “I’m taking volunteers to help with sides.”

“I’ll help you.” Your brother and sister both immediately volunteer. The way you have been napping has them both aware that something has happened to cause their normally tireless sister to be a little slower.

“With three sets of hands we might even manage to make some dessert without Jack worrying.” You flash them both a smile. “I know you’ll be back for the opening in barely a couple of weeks, but I’m so glad you guys came to visit.”

“Of course we were coming.” Eliza looks almost offended that you would even think that they wouldn’t come. “We were worried sick until your co-worker called us to tell us you were okay. Mom almost came through the phone at her.”

“I’m sorry you were worried.” It sits like a lump in your throat, the heaviness of what really happened, but for once you’re glad you can’t tell them the truth. If they knew what had really happened to you last weekend they would never let you out of their sight again. Just like Jack is doing. “Everything is okay now. That’s what matters.”

“Yeah but you know them.” Your brother rolls his eyes like he wasn’t the one who had filed the report. “They like to worry.”

“Sure, Matty. It was all them.” You shake your head and pinch his side. “I’ll thank mom and dad for contacting the police, then.”

“Shut up.” He grumbles at you, giving you a pout of brotherly affection. Of course he had been worried. You had come to him so upset and on the verge of shutting down and then disappeared.

"Love you too, big brother." It might be said with teasing, but you reach over to give him a hug and pull your siblings up with you to head into the kitchen.

Jack, for his part, takes the role of providing your meal very seriously. He had Champ keep the brisket over at his house to marinate last night and it’s not too long before it’s put on the smoker to fill the back yard with its mouth watering scent.

When your parents eventually wander back from their last distillery tour and tasting, the sides are ready, dessert is done, and Jack very nearly has the brisket finished. Better timing couldn't have been achieved if he had timed it all out with care.

"I don't know what to tell you, kiddo," your mother grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head when she hugs you. "But it smells like your soulmate has a talent for the only cooking skill you never worked on."

“She doesn’t know how to grill?” Jack asks as he pops back into the kitchen to get a pan. “I’m surprised about that.”

“It’s less doesn’t know how and more that the work never went into mastering it.” Your father shrugs, leaning back against the counter when Jack comes in. “Not a lot of barbecue in classical French cuisine, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that she isn’t lacking for barbecue when she’s got a hankerin’ for it.” Jack tells him, knowing that he would keep the smoker running if you wanted him to.

“There was…maybe a year or so? When she was a teenager.” He looks to your mother for clarification, who nods. “Where she would always request it. Dinners, special occasions, everything. Any time we were eating as a family she wanted to go for barbecue.” Your father chuckles at the memory, obviously a fond one now. “Turned out she had a crush on one of the people who owned the one barbecue place in our little town.”

Jack chuckles and shakes his head, totally able to see it. “I don’t blame her if that’s the case. I’d eat a lot of anything she makes to spend more time with her.”

“I think,” your father intones, crossing his arms and glancing at his wife - his own soulmate - before turning back to Jack. “That maybe it’s prudent for all of us to have a chat before we leave?”

For a moment, the small, indulgent smile on Jack’s face slips. Worried that your parents might not approve of the relationship after all. Despite being polite, that doesn’t mean that they had any intention of allowing Jack with their daughter. “Why don’t you follow me outside.” He glances towards the kitchen where you and your siblings are laughing. “More privacy.”

The smack on the arm your mother gives her husband before he turns to follow Jack outside is pointed, and she hangs back to sit with her grandchildren before they need their nap. This conversation is not her idea, and she doesn’t think it’s necessary.

When Jack finds just your father following him, he turns back towards the outdoor kitchen. “Beer? Or does the conversation warrant something stronger?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Beer is good.” He’s not trying to scare the younger man, after all. Not trying, but if Jack does happen to shake in his boots a little, Jeff won’t be upset about that.

“Sounds good.” Jack moves over to the small fridge and pulls out two beers. Popping the cap off the tops and handing one to your father. Waiting for the other man to start the conversation as he takes a pull of the beer.

A sip of his drink comes first, but Jeff doesn't get in Jack's way as he moves around the grill area to tend to dinner. "Look," he leans back against the porch railing. "You're not kids. I'm not trying to intimidate you or dictate your actions, or anything like that. But she's my little girl and I'd be remiss if I didn't at least talk to you about her."

“I understand where you are coming from.” Jack does, he really does. He probably would have the same conversation if he was the father of a daughter. “What would you like to know?”

"It's less what I want to know and more of what I want to make sure that you know." He admits, taking another sip of his beer before he puts the bottle down beside him. "She was never the little girl that played princess first, or wrote her boyfriend's name out on her notebooks, or planned out her wedding with her friends. Not that we ever saw. But her baby sister...when Eliza wanted to do those things, it would make her sister just light up. It was like..." he sighs, taking another sip and looking for the words. "Like she was waiting for permission to dream. I know we raised her to be quick and smart and self-sufficient, but I'd hate to think that she's gone into adulthood with that same hesitancy. Just...just make sure she talks to you, Jack. That she opens up about what she wants. Because the only answer she ever used to give was that she wanted her own restaurant, and I know there's got to be more than that."

“I will.” Jack nods, frowning slightly as he stares at his bottle, the heat already making the condensation slide down the sides. “I’ve not been a good soulmate so far.” It might not be the best idea to be this honest, but he feels like he needs to be. “I was a pretty rotten one, and I hurt her. But–” he sighs. “I want nothing more than to make her happy. To give her the world if I can. To travel to all the places she wants to go, do the things that she wants to do. I want to make a life with her.”

"You'll make it up to her." Your father doesn't even make it a suggestion, it's more like an order. "Or else she won't have anything to do with you. I learned that when she was a teenager."

“Everyday.” Jack promises easily, taking another swig of his beer as he tries to dispel the image of your limp body in the back of that SUV. “Lucky for me, she’s got an amazing capacity for forgiveness.”

"Gets that from her mother." He huffs an awkward kind of chuckle in return. "I hold a grudge like a motherfucker. But those women? Angels. Who knows how they manage it." Both men are silent for a moment, letting the thought linger between them. "Are there plans?" He asks after the quiet lingers a little too long and becomes awkward. "You and her, have you made plans for that life you want to build?"

“I imagine there will be soon.” Jack frowns slightly, not sure how much you’ve told your father. “I’ve been married before. My soulmate. She was– she was killed while pregnant.” Jack explains quietly. “But I do remember asking her daddy for permission to marry her.” His eyes met your father’s. “When we are ready for that, I expect I’ll be makin’ a trip up to see you.”

“Honestly a little surprised you’re not asking right now,” your father admits, holding Jack’s gaze. “But I’m not going to rush you.”

“I want her to be comfortable with the idea.” Jack admits softly. “And I want to make sure that my past doesn’t haunt her.”

“Most people wouldn’t wait for the adjustment period.” As much as Jeff thinks of it as his job to protect his three kids, he knows you and your siblings are all grown. The oldest has been married and divorced and the youngest has a husband and two kids of her own. You have always been the question mark in the family, right up until he saw you with Jack. There’s no question in his mind now that this is the person you’ve been waiting for - second soulmate or otherwise. “I tell you what, Jack.” He sighs, glancing back over his shoulder at the house to make sure you’re not nearby. “When you’re ready, I have her grandmother’s ring in the safe at home. It’s nothing too flashy, but her grandma Jane meant the world to her and I know she’d be happy to wear it.”

“Thank you.” Jack flashes your father a grin and sighs in relief. “I have a feeling that time will come sooner than I imagine, but we’ll see.” He chuckles.

“Whenever the two of you decide is best.” Is it the life he imagined for you from the time you were just a little peanut in his arms? Maybe not. But you’re not the woman he imagined all those years ago, either. You’re better — you’re you.

Jack nods, grateful that it’s not a different kind of conversation but that’s not a bad thing. “I have talked to her about moving in.” He offers your father. “So maybe I should ask you for your permission.” He ponders.

The other man chuckles quietly, feeling like he’s listening to Jack ponder out loud. “Should I bring the ring down when we come back for the opening?”

“I think that would be very appropriate.” Jack agrees, frowning slightly as he wonders if you would feel overwhelmed if he proposed to you after the opening of your restaurant or if it would just add happiness to the occasion. “So let me formally ask you.” Jack sets his bottle down and straightens his shoulders. “Your daughter is my soulmate, and I love her. I want to protect her and cherish her with everything that I am. May I have your blessing to ask her to marry me?”

“Keep making her happy. And keep her talking to you.” Your father puts down his own bottle and straightens up, putting his hand out to Jack. “And for the love of god, don’t elope. Her mother would be broken-hearted.”

“Never.” Jack can promise that. He didn’t do it with Abigail and he wouldn’t take that away from you. Even if it was something small and intimate, he wants you to have the wedding you want.

“Then you have my blessing, for whatever kind of life you want to build together.” You would huff and call them both old-fashioned for this, but the truth is that this is just two people trying their best to take care of you. “Be good to her, Jack.”

He hadn’t been. He knows this. However, he planned on making sure that you were never distressed or upset because of him again. “Yes sir.” He nods solemnly, the seriousness of the moment not lost on him. “Thank you.”

“There you two are.” It hadn’t taken an extreme amount of effort to find them, but the table is set and everything is ready except for the meat. “Do you need another set of hands to help, babe?”

“Nawww, I should have it.” Jack immediately turns towards you with a slow, sugary smile. A little emotional from the conversation and he pulls you close for a quick kiss. “About to pull everything off.”

“Whatever you two were talking about, keep it up,” you tease, not the least bit embarrassed to steal a second kiss with your father right there. Jack is so soft right now that you wouldn’t sacrifice it for anything.

******

Dinner turned out to be a complete success, everyone raving over Jack’s barbecue. Making him smirk at you and volunteering his services whenever you wanted some for a special at your restaurant when it opens. Now with everyone’s bellies full and the evening winding down, Jack sends you ahead to bed to get ready while he finishes cleaning up the kitchen, figuring you might like to shower or soak in a bath.

Sometimes you swear you would have accepted the invitation to move in with Jack based on the master bathroom alone. The powerful shower with seemingly unlimited hot water is the best you’ve ever experienced, and the tub is definitely big enough for two people to lounge in. He had insisted that you bring over your bathrobe when you brought a few things from your house for the week, so now it’s hanging from the rack beside the marble countertop for when you step out. Smelling like him is a small bonus, considering Jack’s soap and shampoo smell like they were made for a lumberjack who stands on top of mountains in the crisp, cold morning to watch sunrise, and you end up just luxuriating in the hot water until you hear him come into the bedroom. That’s when you shut off the water and step out, wrapping yourself up in the terry cloth robe like a warm hug.

Walking into the bedroom finds it empty and Jack smirks as he looks towards the bathroom, knowing you are in there. He needs to shower, since he smells like a smoker, but he can wait until you are out. Instead, he's standing around looking at the small changes that you have made to his once cold bedroom. Things that are almost overlooked but it's very obvious to a man who has been a bachelor for nearly twenty years. The small notebook on the side of the bed you had claimed, where you write recipe ideas when they come to you. The way your general items are scattered on the dresser. He likes it.

“Hey handsome.” It doesn’t matter how ridiculous you look, dripping wet in a bath towel and fuzzy slippers, you open the bathroom door to let him in if he wants to share some while you brush your hair and teeth. “I know I’ve already said it, but dinner was amazing.”

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." He smirks at you and comes up to hold onto your waist, wrapping around you to kiss your ear. You hum as you load your toothbrush up and tilt your head to allow him more access to you. "You’re lookin' fresh faced and pretty tonight."

“And smelling very manly,” you joke, turning your head to kiss him properly in between his exploration of your neck and before you start brushing your teeth. Before or after is fine. During would be a bit messy.

“I like the way you smell.” His scent on your body drives him crazy and there has been more than one time where he’s had to take care of the nagging lust that always lives right under the surface since he's given into being near you.

You smile coyly at him in the mirror, raising one eyebrow. “I smell like you,” you point out before starting to brush your teeth. Not that you mind at all. Not even a little, actually.

“Yeah, sugar.” Jack’s voice dips down and he brushes another kiss over your skin. “Like I’ve wrapped myself around you and rubbed myself all over your body.”

The most articulate sound you can manage right now is a groan as you process that image - the therapist had said you were both clear headed enough for sex if it was what you both wanted, but you haven’t taken that step. So far you’ve been too tired from your recovery, so it’s been slow nights of drowning in each other’s kisses in bed - with Jack’s hands down your panties if things got rambunctious.

He chuckles against your skin, feeling himself start to harden. “But right now sugar? I need to clean up. Get the smell of smoke off me.”

"What if I like the smell of smoke?" You pose, spitting out excess toothpaste long enough to pout at him and then grin when he meets your eyes in the mirror. "Go clean up, baby. I'm going to get in bed and read."

Jack grunts, aware that his cock is twitching against your ass and he pulls his hips back. He doesn’t want to push you even if he knows you want to.

You've lost track of time, by the time Jack comes out of the bathroom, and look up over the top of your book when you spy him striding into the room. Squeaky clean but still damp from just toweling off, that towel is now wrapped around his waist when he comes into the bedroom to fish for a pair of boxers to sleep in. Fuck he looks good like that...you might be staring, but you don't care.

Jack knows you are looking and it feeds into his ego like nothing else. No one night stand cooing and lovin’ on him has the effect of his soulmate staring discreetly. He smirks at himself as he turns towards the drawer and ‘accidentally’ drops his towel.

"Whoops." It comes with a half-snort because you know damn well that he didn't do it by accident, and you set your bookmark back in your book to put it on the side table. "I'm sure that was very clumsy of you. And fully unintentional."

Jack throws a look over his shoulder with a grin. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He draws playfully. “Ain’t you supposed to be makin’ recipes? Or readin’?”

“Nice try.” Even if you hadn’t read it before, no book is more interesting than your bare assed naked soulmate. Especially when he’s previously been very careful about modesty to keep the both of you under control.

His chuckle accompanies him reaching into the drawer to pull out a pair of boxers. “Something you like on display, sugar? Didn’t think you liked tiny asses.”

It earns him another little laugh, and you pull the blankets back on his side of the bed. “I don’t keep my hand in your back pocket when we walk around because my fingers are cold, baby.”

“And here I was thinkin’ that you were trying to warm ‘em up.” Jack puts on a thicker accent for you right now, knowing how much it seems to affect you.

“Get in bed, cowboy.” It’s practically an order, but edged with enough begging to stroke Jack’s ego like he’s stroking your voice kink by playing with his accent.

“Yes ma’am.” Jack pretends to tilt an imaginary hat as he closes the drawer and turns around to stride cockily towards the bed.

There’s something to be said for the domesticity of such a moment. The easy way he slides into bed beside you and bundles you up in his arms, and the comfort of clean bodies cuddled up in the light of your bedside lamps like you had been doing this your whole lives. Now that you’re letting yourselves, it’s so easy to be together. “So…” you hum, snuggling up to him. “I saw my dad pull you outside tonight.”

“Yes.” Jack won’t deny that. Especially because you saw it. “He did.” He rubs his hand up and down your back.

“Anything I should know about?” It’s hard to imagine they needed to have a private conversation about whiskey or the grill, but who knows.

“Your father wanted to know my intentions.” Jack admits easily. “To tell me that I need to listen to you, help you dream.”

“He worries too much.” An exasperated sigh passes your lips and you place a kiss on Jack’s chest. “I already have my dreams.”

“I know.” Jack says teasingly. “Your tea room.” He knows you mean more than that, but he’s grinning as he needles you.

“And my soulmate.” There might be other things that you bluster about, but the love of the person you’re meant to be with and your dream job are the two things you’ve always been honest about wanting.

“And your soulmate.” Jack quietly repeats. He knows how important it is to you. To him honestly, now that he’s opened that possibility up again. Your happiness is the most important thing to him.

“So there’s nothing else to worry about.” The questions of marriage or kids or anything else are all secondary to just having him in your life.

He hums and thinks about things for a moment. "Would you...want to go home with me?" He asks softly. "To Montana? See the ranch. You don't have to."

“I absolutely will if you want me to.” At dinner, your parents had invited him to come up to New Hampshire with you any time, and this seemed like a natural extension of that invitation to you. But you do lean back a little to look him in the eye. “I would love to see where you’re from, honey. But if it’s going to hurt too much…reminding you of Abigail and the baby and all that…then we don’t have to.”

"It's been a long time since I've been home." Since he had left, if he were honest, but he wasn't going to bring that up. "Might be good to go see it...introduce you to 'em." He ventures, wondering if you will think it macabre or ghoulish to visit his former soulmate's grave.

“Do you still have family out there?” It’s not hard to tell when Jack has his mind set to something, and this seems like it’s quickly becoming an important idea to him. “Or is there maybe an event that you used to like going to? That we could go back for?”

"No family left." His father had died the year before Abigail. Heart attack, or he would wonder if Rollins had any hand in it now. "Just me."

“No cousins or anything?” That surprises you, but you smooth your furrowed brow so he doesn’t get the impression that you’re judging him for something he has no control over. “Who’s running the ranch?”

"I hired a board of directors to handle things for me." Jack huffs. "Or....Champ did." Champ had taken care of that task to where Jack only had to handle the yearly reports and even then it was more of a cursory glance. He had honestly anticipated the fuckin' thing going to the Statesman conglomerate when he died.

“We should go.” There’s a wistfulness and a worry in his expression that is begging to be soothed, and you run your hand gently up and down his side. “We can see the ranch, you can show me where you grew up, and we can visit Abigail and your son. Would that…would that be a good trip for you?” Of course you’re curious to see where he came from, but the last thing you want to do is hurt him with memories.

Jack bites his lip, swallowing harshly when you are the one that brings up his wife. "I– I would l-like that." He manages, his voice cracking slightly in surprise and so much gratitude. His hold on you tightens. "I would like that a lot." It feels like Jack has a sense of closure now that Abigail's death has been explained. It wasn't some random act of violence that he couldn't rationalize. It was targeted. She was targeted. It had helped to know that more than he ever thought it would.

“We’ll bring flowers.” That’s what you do whenever you visit your own family’s graves, and in some ways you suppose Jack’s lost loved ones are a part of your family now. In an extended and loving memory sort of way. “Whenever you want to go, honey.”

“We need to get through your opening and at least the first few months, I think.” Jack looks to you. “Right?”

“Maybe we could go at the end of the summer or beginning of fall?” The land would still be in bloom and going during the heat of summer might be too close to their death date for him. Considering he doesn’t celebrate his birthday you doubt he wants that big of a reminder. “I would think that…earlier in August might be…a lot harder.”

"That would work." Jack nods, considering it. "There's nothing like fall on the ranch." He admits wistfully. "Especially when the trees start changing colors up in the mountains."

“Fall, then.” Placing a kiss over his heart, you offer Jack a soft smile. “I’m honored that you want to share that part of yourself with me.”

"Just...." Jack picks up your hand and kisses it softly. "Be patient with me when we go?" He asks, knowing that he might have to go quite a few therapy sessions before taking you, so he doesn't lash out or do something stupid.

“Honey, of course.” It seems like you shouldn’t be able to get any closer, but you nudge that much nearer to him and brush some damp hair from his forehead. “And if you decide to put the trip off until spring or even next fall, that’s just fine. The ranch isn’t going anywhere and neither am I.”

"Hmmm, thank you." He squeezes your back gently and his hand starts to drift down towards your ass as a natural progression. Having you in his bed has made it hard to keep his hands to himself on the best days and he was still in a playful mood.

“Serious conversation and then an ass grab, huh?” Sure you might be teasing him a little less, but you’re still you. It’s still fun. “Still in a good mood, Mr. Daniels?”

"Sugar, I'm finding that I've been in a good mood since that first nap with you." He tells you seriously. "Especially when I get to see that gorgeous smile on your face."

“Hmm…” He’s being so damn sweet and sincere tonight, and you’re just soaking it all in like sunbeams. “I wonder why that could be?”

"I don't know." He teases back. "Might be because your parents and siblings haven't strung me up for makin' you cry. Or because I'm currently in bed with a very sexy woman."

“If anybody would’ve gotten out the noose it would have been my sister, and it would have been immediate.” And since you would have done the same to defend her if she needed it, you can’t blame her in the least. But your little sister had listened when you told her that Jack was actively fixing things and making an effort. “I’m thinking it probably has a tiny bit more to do with having a half-undressed woman in your bed.”

"Yes." Jack's voice dips slightly, taking on a smokier sound. "That. That is a big reason why I've been in such a good mood." Despite not having sex, he's more relaxed with you here and he doesn't want you to leave when your family goes home tomorrow.

“I’ve been thinking…” Some might not consider three days a whole lot of time to think, but getting to spend so much uninterrupted time with him has been good for you. When Jack doesn’t have his guard up, he is as sweet and as appealing as apple pie with all the charm of the most attentive Southern gentleman. “And I think…” Finding his eyes in you, you fluster a little and bury your face in his shoulder. “It’d be a shame to go back to my own place.”

"I think you're right." Jack agrees softly, relieved that you seem to be on the same page as he is. "Wasted opportunities to hold you. When you go back to work, I know you aren't going to be able to be under my wing the entire day."

“I’ll text you when I get downtime,” you promise him, stretching to kiss the nearest bit of his skin you can manage - which right now is the slope of his chest just below his neck. “So you don’t worry.”

“Just wear your bracelet for me, sugar.” He requests, remembering how his heart had dropped when he had seen it on your counter.

“Always.” You pick up your hand that had been tucked in beside him to show the delicate chain with its innocent looking charm to show him that you’re wearing it even now. “I only take it off to shower now.”

“Okay.” He knows it’s a little bit of paranoia, since you will be on Statesman property, but Ginger is still going through all the personnel files to make sure another intruder hasn’t slipped through the cracks.

“It’s okay.” It’s an understatement to say that you understand now. “From now, I’m coming home to you at night.”

"Yeah?" Jack smirks slightly and bites his lips at the prospect of having you in his bed every single night. "I like the sound of that, sugar. Hand to God, I do."

“I do, too.” There’s barely any more space to move in, but you reach up and place a kiss on his lips and sigh softly. The kiss starts off soft, but need and hunger makes Jack reach up and grip the back of your neck as he deeps it with the slide of his tongue against your lips. Groaning when you eagerly open for him.

Every night has been like this. Sliding into bed together and having a little pillow talk before you indulge a little in each other without ever pushing the boundary that you’ve set for yourselves. It’s been a blissful few days, if you’re honest, and even though you know the second he signals being ready you’ll be throwing your own clothes off the side of the bed in a big goddamn rush.

That need, the underlying hunger that seems to invade every single touch and kiss is working overtime tonight. Making Jack grip your hips and urge you on top of him, wanting to feel your warmth and weight. The heat of your damp panties pressing against the rapidly expanding tent in his boxers.

The heat grows faster tonight than it usually does, something in the breath you share feeling more addictive or maybe just hungrier. You find yourself grinding your hips down on him without thinking and moaning when his hands slip under your shirt. “Fuck sugar.” Jack groans, kissing down your throat as you roll your hips back and make him choke on his own breath. “You’re so fucking…sweet.”

“Sweet?” You might giggle if you weren’t busy moaning, but you tilt your head completely out of the way to let him lick and nip and suck every bit of skin he wants. “Tonight feels—” you gasp when he swipes his thumbs across your pebbled nipples in unison. “Fuck— definitely hotter.”

“Never eaten melted chocolate?” Jack groans, smirking slightly as you push your tits against his fingers a little more. Begging for him to repeat the move. “Sweet and hot.”

“I will go get the fudge sauce out of your kitchen so fucking fast.” It would be a nice follow up to yesterday when you had caramel sauce all over your hands making yourself a fancy latte before your family woke up and Jack had very carefully licked it off every digit.

Jack chuckles quietly and shakes his head. “No food play with your parents here.” He chides playfully.

Your pout is playful and your circle your hips in his lap again before reaching to pull your t-shirt over your head. There’s been enough modesty this week for two people planning on living together - you’re itching to take a bigger step forward. Jack has seen you naked. You’ve changed in front of him with no modesty, a move that made him grin. Now he groans, eyes feasting on your tits and he drags you down to his chest to feel them pressed against his chest.

He’s throbbing hard beneath you and the barriers of his boxers and your panties are performative at best. At this point you know damn well that he can feel how soaked your panties are, he can feel the difference in the neediness of every kiss.

Diving back into your mouth is like the anchor he needs to keep himself from keeling over. Groaning your name quietly, he manages to break away to look into your eyes. “What do you want, sugar?” He demands roughly.

“I—” You know the answer. What you’re aching for. But if he isn’t ready you won’t push him. “I want you,” you admit, looking everywhere but his eyes to avoid seeing disappointment. “But not if you’re not ready.”

Jack inhales roughly, expecting that answer but still being shocked when he hears it. “With your family here?” He asks, sliding his hands down your sides to grip your hips. “Tonight, sugar?”

“I can keep my voice down.” Another roll of your hips is a figure eight this time, and your eyes nearly roll back in your head when you feel him pulse underneath you. “Can you?”

It takes Jack a moment to be able to remember what you are talking about, let alone his own name when you grind against him like that. His fingers digging into your flesh and pulling you against him again. "I- y-yeah." He groans out brokenly. "Y-you sure?" He closes his eyes and tries to control himself before he looks back up at you seriously. This is a big step for the two of you and he wants you to not regret it.

“I’m sure, baby.” The seriousness of the moment isn’t lost on you, and you stop moving to leave a soft, sincere kiss on his lips. “I love you, Jack.”

He knows you are ready, the two of you have been ready physically since the day you met. It's the mental and emotional barriers that he had created that caused this delay. Now, Jack rolls you onto your back and smirks down at you, his eyes dark and flashing with need. "I love you too, sugar. Now I'm gonna show you how you ride a real cowboy."

If you were feeling pedantic, you might quibble about position and how you had just been in the perfect place to ride him - but honestly you’re too foggy from desire and the burning in your blood to do anything more than surge up to kiss him. The measly barriers of underwear were symbols of restraint more than anything, and you are extremely ready to pull his away so you can experience every inch of him.

Jack groans, enjoying the pure desire that is fueled by your kiss, his hands sliding down to the band of your panties and he smirks into your mouth before he shreds them easily.

Oh that should not make you moan so wantonly, but it’s a good thing you were kissing him when he did it otherwise your promise to keep the volume down would have been shot to hell immediately. “Fuck, baby.”

He chuckles quietly and moves the material away so he can slide his fingers against your wet slit. "You like that, sugar?"

“Show off,” you accuse him playfully, knowing that you’ve told him in the past that shows of physical strength are a turn on for you. “I’m already always soaking wet around you.”

He hums, sliding his fingers down to press into you. Something that he has done before but now he knows that you are going to feel more than just his fingers inside you. Wanting to make sure that you cum before he slides inside you.

“Fu—fuck.” One hand shoots out to clutch his shoulder and the other twines into the soft bed sheets as your hips roll down to meet his hand as deeply as you possibly can. Yes, you’ve enjoyed exploring with him, but you’ve wanted him since the day you met and you’re aching for him now that the chance is here.

Jack's hands are clever, quick. They have to be with the type of rope and pistol work that he does. Now, his trigger finger curls up inside you. seeking the spongy spot that makes your back arch and your gasps turn desperate. Ready to drink down the sounds like a man dying of thirst while he kisses you and pushes you towards the edge.

You squirm but open up for him like a spring flower, legs spread open as wide as you can manage to give him ample room to explore. All you’ve wanted for months is to drown in him and now you’re clinging to him like a life preserver as he rockets you out over an ocean of pleasure.

“That’s it, sugar.” Jack coos in your ear, butterflying kisses along your jaw while the wet heat of your cunt surrounds his fingers. “Give it to me. Let me feel your sweetness.”

He’s well practiced at this - with plenty of partners before you, yes, but also just from the last few days together. He knows exactly the right way to quirk his wrist and exactly the right way to curl his fingers, making you gasp and chase the sensation of his fingers filling you every time he pulls them out only to thrust them back into you with more dexterity than before. He plays you like an instrument until you bow and threaten to break, with one hand clamped over your mouth so you don’t cry his name for the whole house to hear as you fall apart at the seams and flood his hand with your sticky release.

It is only because of your family down the hall that he doesn't let you cry out. When they leave, he will. Letting your sweet sounds fill the bedroom, hell, the house. Wanting to hear it. Now he just groans, his lips pressed against your hand, as if trying to kiss you through the barrier. "Good girl." He murmurs. "Good girl, sugar."

The way he coos at you is borderline criminal but combines somewhere in the back of your head with riding him and you swear you’d let this unhinged cowboy put a damn bit and bridle on you if it turned out to be some wild kink of his. The thought flies out of your head as soon as it enters, blissfully blanking out with white hot pleasure. Only when you’re sure you won’t shout do you move your hand away, pouring a moan into his mouth instead.

Only when your body can't give him any more does he still his fingers. Watching as you relax into the bed and the sugary smile of pleasure graces your face. "Was it good for you?" He asks, smug in your eventual response when you can catch your breath.

“You’re so fucking cocky,” you drawl in reply, giggling under your breath when you surge up to kiss him. “I’d be shoving you on your back to stroke your cock except I need you to fuck me.”

"Confident, sugar." Jack chuckles, kissing your lips again before he shuffles off of you so he can push his boxers down. "Confident."

“Because you know I’ve been ready to jump you since the day we met.” It’s not even judgmental or self-deprecating, just a fact as you smirk up at him. He’s so fucking handsome and the butterflies in your stomach erupt all over again. This is actually happening.

Jack peels down his boxers and stands straight, showing off the hard length that is heavily bobbing as he lets you peruse his body. "You should know I've been havin' to hide this since the day we met." He growls.

“Don’t know how you hide it anywhere.” With as tight as he wears his jeans, it should be impossible to keep the thickest cock you’ve ever seen in your life under wraps, but somehow he manages it.

He smirks and waggles his brows at you playfully. "It's all in the way you keep your jacket buttoned."

“Show off.” Though you roll your eyes dramatically, you lean forward to snag his arm and urge him to come back to you. “Get back in bed and show off here instead.”

It's the easiest order that he will probably ever receive as he kneels on the bed. "With pleasure, sugar."

As easily as you ever fit together in any other part of life, the way your bodies seem to move and mold together is instinctive. There’s no guiding or nudging, just fluid motion as he finds the cradle of your thighs and slides one arm underneath your back to keep you as close to him as possible as he devours you in a burning kiss. Jack has never been shy about sex. Not even that first time with Abigail where he was worried that he would last all of ten seconds, only to be surprised and pleased he had lasted thirty. His cock pulses against your mound and he hums into your mouth, enjoying the way you fit against him, soft in all the right places and welcoming him to slide into you.

This tension that’s been building for months has somehow intensified during the last week. No touch has been enough, although you’ve pretended it was, and every moment of intimacy has just made you burn for more. Now, with his weight bearing down on you and the heat of him threatening to consume you, you’re squirming for any kind of friction. The easy roll of his hips comes natural, grinding against your and feeling the way your gasp presses into his throat when the head of his cock catches on your swollen, soaked lips. "Easy girl," he coos gently, keeping his hips angled so that when he shifts down, it presses against your entrance. "Nice and easy."

The smirk drawn tight across your face curls at the edges when you look up at him. “If you have a horse fetish, Jack Daniels, now would be the time to tell me.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah, sugar.” He reaches down to grip your hip. “No horse fetish, but I do want you to hang on.”

Even the smallest moment of laughter seems to break the spell of apprehension that had been blanketing the two of you, and when you giggle along with him it’s like music. “Good,” you tease, hitching your leg high up on his hip. “Because I’m feeling more like save a horse, ride a cowboy tonight.”

Once you say that, Jack leans in and presses his lips to yours and slowly starts to push forward. Breaking you open with a smooth roll of his hips and a groan when he slips inside you.

Your mouth drops open as his hips roll forward, that deep moan that originates somewhere in your toes barely stifled when you clamp your mouth shut and bite your lip to keep it contained. Instead Jack gets an enthusiastic whimper while he fills your needy pussy slowly but surely. Every shuddering breath is encouragement, and you are definitely not here to discourage him.

Jack's own moan is quietly, barely breathed out but it's there. Mouth dropping open and his eyes fluttering closed at the tight, hot clutch of your cunt surrounds him. Stealing his ability to make a pithy comment, every thought of how fucking good you feel, how perfect you are, is all that he can manage until his hips nudge yours and he is buried to the hilt in your body.

All the space in your mind seems to be gone along with that space that he filled up in your body, leaving you dumbstruck in a way you’ve never felt before as your body adjusts to the weight and girth of him inside you. It isn’t like the two of you to be speechless, but the moment is consumed in drowning kisses rather than witty barbs and you can’t even say that you care. He doesn't know exactly when your fingers became entwined, curled together as your leg shifts higher on his hip and your lips tilt away from his. Breaking to give you both the space to pant softly. "Shit, sugar." He groans quietly.

“Jack—” You gasp his name softly, rolling your hips against his to seek out even the smallest movements. “You—you’re so fuckin perfect. Fuck.”

“You know how good you feel?” He groans quietly, twitching inside you when your walls contract around him.

The huff that earns him is only because your mind is too wound up in pleasure to be clever, and you draw your nails up his back to urge him on. “Might go crazy if you don’t move, baby.”

“So impatient.” He chides, leaning in and biting your chin before he draws his hips back.

“Maybe.” You might have snarked back at him if he hadn’t snapped his hips forward at that exact moment, pushing the air out of your lungs and making you have to bite back a sharp cry of his name to a bare whimper. He’s a menace and he knows what the hell he’s doing.

His grin borders on devilish and he wraps his arms around your shoulders. “You were sayin’, sugar?” He grunts as he thrusts into you again. Making sure that he forces more air out of your lungs.

“Fuck.” He said he wanted you to hold on - and he truly seems to have meant it. You cling to him as he sets a deep, steady pace that has both of you groaning into each other’s skin. The rest of the world has dissolved away so quickly that you can’t even focus on the room beyond him, eyes half-shut and fluttering every time his cock pulses inside your tight channel.

“I am, sugar.” Jack pants. “But you want it harder, I’m guessin’.” He’s teasing, but he wants to make sure you know exactly what he’s capable of in bed so he sets his knees and his pace speeds up.

It’s a miracle you don’t cry out. One hand leaves its safe place on his shoulder to dive into his hair to let your fingers scrape his scalp and pull on his hair just enough to add that hint of pain to the pleasure. “Shit.” Jack’s pace fumbles for half a thrust before he is slamming into you. Grateful for the solid poster bed to keep the headboard from banging through the wall and alerting everyone in the house to what you are doing.

“We can both play rough, cowboy.” You promise him, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath his ear and moaning vocally in his ear when he bottoms out inside you again.

If it weren’t for your experience being so fresh, Jack would have you tied to the bed. Instead he grabs your hip, hitching it up higher and groaning as he shuffles to his knees. The shift has you bouncing, head nearly hitting the headboard of the bed, and you reach up to brace yourself. The effect is that you’re stretched out in the bed below him, tits bouncing with every thrust and mouth alternately hanging open on a silent cry or pressed tightly shut to stifle the need to call his name into the night.

Huffing and puffing as he rides you hard, Jack grins down at you. Moving so he can lick his thumb and press it to your clit.

"Jesus–fuck!" You yelp when he presses his thumb to your swollen nub, eyes shooting open from where they had fallen blissfully shut to let the moment wash over you. There's a line of sweat rolling down Jack's neck that you don't hesitate to lick away, discovering tonight to be delightfully needy when you had unfoundedly assumed that things would tend toward lovemaking.

“Shhhhhh sugar.” Jack teases as he makes tight, sure circles over your clit. “Don’t want your daddy busting’ in here, do ya?” He smirks and snaps his hips a little harder.

"Fuck why is that sexier?" The pout on your lips at enjoying the idea of enjoying the forbidden or taboo is temporary, taken over by the shaking shivering pleasure from Jack knowing exactly how you like your clit rubbed.

Chucking, Jack decides to change the pace, keeping his fingers moving over your clit but his cock draaaaaags through your walls slowly. “Don’t know, you tell me.”

Biting your lip yet again to keep from moaning too loudly, the abrupt change in rhythm means you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he rocks backward. The slow feeling of emptiness is torture that almost makes you sob with pleasure. “Might hav—have to fuck you in a bunch of different —fuck — places to see who catches us.”

“Hmmm.” Jack ducks his head down and nips at your ear, breathing heavily. “Maybe I’ll fuck you in your kitchen. Let your staff walk in on us.”

“Shit.” That thought rockets through you like wildfire and has you grasping at his skin for any kind of mark or impression you could possibly leave on his perpetually tan skin. “Or your office.”

“My office.” Jack groans, pushing deep and grinding into you. “Spread out on my desk, my tongue buried in your cunt when someone walks in?”

Every image seems better than the last, building you up steadily along with his thrusts and the tight circles he's drawing on your clit so that you're on the edge of bursting. "Fuck yes," you're panting and swallowing your own whines beneath him. "So fucking good, baby, h–holy shit." With as tight as your body is clamping down on him in every way, your nails in his arms just might draw blood as you fall apart on a pitiful moan. It's too fast and too sharp to warn him, but the pleasure comes in wave after wave.

Watching your orgasm rip through you might be the sexiest thing that he has ever seen. Eyes clouding over and back arching up when your broken moan fills his ears. The hot grip of your walls making his already throbbing cock ache and he grits his teeth to keep from cumming as he rocks his hips to work you through the peak.

It's almost ruthless, the way he doesn't let up and just pushes you through to the other side without hesitation, but at the same time you love the seemingly endless aftershocks of such a powerful orgasm. "Come on, baby." You gasp out, holding onto his gaze with hazy eyes. "Cum for me."

“Gunna.” Jack hisses through his teeth, jaw stretched out and the muscles in his neck straining as he pushes towards his own pleasure. The way you tremble around him has him groaning your name, hips stuttering as his pace becomes sloppy and thrusts uneven.

His whole body tenses just a second before you feel it - his hips slamming forward to grind into you as deeply as he can before hot jets of his seed fill you with every pulse of his cock. It has you whimpering even as you slip your arms around him to offer him that place of comfort to come down to.

When he’s emptied himself into you, an experience that nears nirvana, he slides down into your embrace. Tucking his head against your neck and groaning your name quietly. “That..” he pants quietly. “Was worth the wait.”

Your breathing evens a little and you press a kiss to the top of his head, wrapping your arms around him tightly to just savor the moment for everything it's worth. "You were worth the wait."

His hold on you flexes, tightens as if he is afraid you would slip out of his grasp. As if you aren’t pinned beneath the bulk of his weight and still impaled on his softening cock. “Soulmates.” He murmurs softly.

“Soulmates.” You hum, quietly agreeing to what you know was not always the easiest thing for him to grasp or accept. Your hands journey up and down his back, soothing his overheated skin. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He sighs, kissing along your neck and across your shoulder gently. Not ready to move unless you need him to. It’s been a long time since Jack felt like he was home and that’s exactly what you feel like to him right now.

“Can we sleep like this?” Having him wrapped in your arms and pressing you down into the mattress might be the most comfortable you’ve ever been and you would hate to give it up too soon.

His chuckle is quiet and he settles so that he’s not just dead weight on you. “Comfortable, sugar?” He murmurs softly. “I don’t know if I can move right now.” He’s joking and he knows you know that from your huff.

There’s something to be said for feeling both safe and cherished, and your arms tighten around him briefly. “I think this is the most comfortable I’ve ever been.”

“Then go to sleep, sugar.” He nudges his hips forward slightly to make sure he doesn’t slip out of you. “I’ve gotcha.”

“Sweet dreams, love.” A soft kiss lingers between you before you close your eyes, happy to let blissful sleep take over.

******

“Sugar, I think four desserts is enough, don’t you?” It’s amusing to watch you rush around your kitchens and fret, but he knows that you only want to make your contribution to the going away party perfect. “You’ve made the kid’s favorites.”

“Everything has to be perfect.” Without knowing that you’re echoing his thought, you do register the affectionate grin on his face and pause in your movements to shrug sheepishly. “Bobby’s my friend, and so is his mother. This is a big day and I want them to be happy with it.”

“I know.” Jack had come by to peel you out of the kitchen, knowing if he left you for too long, you’d think of another dessert to whip up quickly. “Do we need to pack coolers or can everything go in the back of the Bronco?”

"Everything can go in the Bronco." He had let you out of his sight this morning long enough to bring your family back to the airstrip and get some clean clothes from your cabin, and you had gone into a sort of baking tizzy immediately after. Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, red berry scones, pecan pie squares, and a huge batch of coconut cupcakes are all ready to go.

“Okay,” he grunts as he picks up the two large bakery boxes with the cookies and scones. “I’ve got the backseat laid down, so we should have plenty of room.”

"Thank you, baby." You follow him out with the rest of the pastries in your arms, setting them in the back of the Bronco before hopping into the front seat to snuggle up to Jack. "And...thank you for this week. Getting to spend the time with my family was...pretty perfect."

“Recovering from something like that is always better when you have people who love you around.” Jack turns and kisses your forehead. “When we are officially livin’ together, they are welcome anytime, sugar.”

"Only two more weeks until the opening." And that, in and of itself, is as terrifying as it is exciting. "Maybe tomorrow I'll come back here and pack up some of my stuff? It's not like I have a lot to do. The furniture all came with the cabin and I haven't gotten that many new things since moving down here."

“Whenever you want to do that, sugar.” Jack isn’t trying to rush you into any moves until you are ready for that. “You let me know and I’ll be your work mule for any heavy liftin’.”

"First thing's first." You lean over and snag another kiss, giddy to be beside him again after only a couple of hours apart. "Bobby's party."

“Bobby’s party.” Jack agrees, smirking over at you softly and reaching for your hand. The word about you being Jack’s soulmate has spread like wildfire amongst all the Statesman employees and this is the first official outing as a couple. “Word has it, Champ’s opened more than a few bottles of Reserve and Diana’s got all the ingredients for a full cocktail bar set up. Including some bubbly.”

"I expect nothing less of her." If it were your son being sent overseas like this without you knowing when you were going to see him again, you would definitely be sending him off in a big way as well. "Good thing we live right next door so we can just crash when we get tired."

His lips curl into a grin when he hears ‘we’. Proudly straightening up slightly as he marvels over how much his thinking has changed over the past two weeks. “I can see you gigglin’ drunkenly in the bathtub.” He teases.

"It would not be the first time at all." The grin you flash at him when he turns the engine over is unabashed. "My brother's thirtieth birthday was a hell of a party."

“Oh lord.” Jack rolls his eyes playfully and snorts. “I have a feelin’ I’m gunna be carryin’ you home over my shoulder.”

"Nooooo." Although the mental image does make you giggle. "I wouldn't embarrass you like that."

“Who says it’s because you’ve embarrassed me?” He grins lecherously and waggles his eyebrows. It’s not a long drive from your kitchen to the house, so he doesn’t have long to flirt before you will switch back into chef mode.

"You gonna throw me over your shoulder and carry me into the house to have your wicked way with me?" The two of you had woken up this morning still tangled in each other and shared a shower - which made it take far longer than if you had gotten ready separately. It was a beautiful way to spend the earliest hours of the day.

“Might.” Jack admits, reaching over and sliding his hand up your pretty sundress. “Too pretty to keep my hands off of.”

"Mmm, I think we might have unleashed the beast," you joke, not bothering for one second to stop his hand from wandering. The entire reason for wearing a little sundress today instead of a simple pair of shorts and a shirt is so that he would want to touch you.

Chuckling, he makes sure his fingers brush your panties. “Don’t think you’re complainin’.”

"Not even a little." There isn't enough time to make the car ride playful, but you relish the feeling of his fingers against your core for even just a second.

“That’s what I thought.” A small, playful pinch to your thigh is quickly smoothed over with his fingers and he grins at you. “Don’t have to be quiet tonight.”

"Thank god." You huff dramatically, like it was the biggest effort in the world to keep quiet last night. Which, in some ways, it was. At least it wasn't easy. It doesn't matter though, all that matters is that you're taking steps forward at a pace that is good for both of you. Jack parks in his driveway so he doesn't take up any room at Champ and Diana's house, and the two of you easily carry all the treats you made across the yard to the tables that Diana has left bare for your contributions. She had predicted you would overdo it after not being allowed to cook for the better part of a week, and she was right.

“Whole damn table for your desserts.” Jack sounds like he is grumbling but the grin on his face shows that he completely belies that. He’s already planning on stealing one of the cupcakes.

"Might be just enough room." There are all sorts of serving platters out for you to choose from, and you start arranging them carefully to put things at different heights and with different shapes beside each other to make the table interesting and easy to grab from. "But only because I stopped short of making the key lime tarts..."

“Now you’re just bein’ mean.” Jack groans quietly. “I ever tell you Key Lime is one of my favorites?”

"You did not." The pout on his lips is adorable, and you grin before kissing it away. "I'll make one for us this week. How about that?"

“Yessssss.” Jack pumps his fist, grinning as he imagines the tangy tartness of the dessert. It was the perfect balance of nearly too sweet and sour.

"What are we celebratin' out here?" Diana had seen you walking up to the house but was in the middle of taking something out of the oven. Now that she can come and say hello, she's ready to throw a second party altogether for how damn happy you and Jack seem.

“Key lime pie.” Jack doesn’t explain any further than that. Aware that Diana is familiar with his love of anything Key Lime. The only thing that truly beats it is chocolate.

"You're gonna love having a chef for a soulmate," she laughs lightly, embracing both of you in turn. "How are you feelin', sweetheart? Better?"

"I'm good, Di." You hug her back fiercely. "A couple of days of rest with my family is what I needed."

“We’ve got another session with the doc and then she’s got some solo meetings.” Jack hadn’t backed down on his insistence you see the staff therapist. Wanting you to cope with things better than he ever has.

"Good." That meets Diana's approval, and she nods as she looks the two of you over. "Positively glowing," she pronounces, having a feeling that she knows why. "Happiness suits you both."

Jack knows that it is mainly his fault, all his fault really. He ducks his head slightly and wraps his arm around your back to pull you into his side. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

"I always thought so." Diana gives you a playful wink before squeezing Jack's shoulder, glad to see him looking proud instead of apprehensive. "Come inside when you're done setting up here. Bar's set up in the kitchen and people should be arriving any minute."

"Do you need anything else, sugar?" Jack asks as he takes the last box from you. He has to admit that all your desserts look amazing and he hums. "Are you plannin' on having a display case in your tea room? Desserts to take home?"

"We're going to do a case for cakes." With the menu nailed down, you know that the only thing that still might expand is the take-away aspect of the bakery, but you're starting small. "The case was put in yesterday, actually. It was the last thing to go in."

"That case is going to be bare by the end of the first night." Jack predicts, knowing that plenty of people will want to take your goods home. Your kitchen staff will have to make sure to keep the cases full.

"You have such faith in me." You lean back in his arms and press a kiss to his cheek, satisfied with the way the table works and basking in the earnest compliment. "Let's go grab a drink, honey. Before the kitchen gets swamped."

Jack follows you willingly, carrying the discarded boxes from the goods as he trails after you. Admiring the way your hips sway in that dress and he smirks to himself.

"Di, I think you might have overdone it just a little bit," you laugh to yourself when you see the way the kitchen is laid out. The enormous tray of her son's favorite mac and cheese that she just took out of the oven is off to one side but a whole half of the counter is devoted to being a self-serve bar.

"Never." Diana huffs, grinning as he whips off the oven mitts and looks over the array of food. "Okay, maybe a little." She admits with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "But my Bobby is leavin' and we are going to celebrate." She swallows. "And then I'll cry tonight when he's on that plane."

"He's not leaving forever, Di." She knows that, of course, but you feel like it's your duty as her friend to remind her. "And you know he'll come home for every holiday he can. Bobby would never stay away that long."

"Shit." Diana rolls her eyes and tosses you a knowing look. "You know as well as I do that boy is itching to get out from under his daddy's watchful eye and gallivant."

"Sure." You nod, stepping up with Jack to pour yourself drinks when she motions to the counter. "But Christmas without his momma? Even a boy Bobby's age isn't eager for that."

"That's just because the darn fool still likes to see what's in his stocking." Diana jokes, laughing with you and relaxing slightly. She's nervous and excited for him, knowing that he will do good things. "How are you anticipating Tex's arrival?" She asks, glancing over at Jack.

"Honestly?" The two of you have your heads bowed as she makes you matching bright pink cocktails. "I hope it will be okay. I miss my friend, ya know? And I know Jack does, too. But...what do we know about this girl? His soulmate?" You're happy for him. You really are. But you also want to make sure that he's actually happy.

"She's a Kingsman agent. One of the few women that they have accepted, so she has to be a damn fine spy." Diana had been told what Champ knows and has no issue with passing it along. "Tall, feisty and mouthier than most Brits."

"Oh." You nearly cackle at the description, shooting Diana an amused grin. "So she'll fit right in here."

"I have a feelin' it's gonna be real interesting around here." Champ adds as he walks into the kitchen and makes a beeline for his wife to steal a kiss.

"We like interesting." You give Champ a hug when he tears himself away from Diana's side, glad to see him relaxed and smiling and not in his suit jacket for once. "Interesting keeps us on our toes."

"When's Tex comin' in again?" Jack asks, not sure how the boy will act when he gets back.

"Plane's landing in about an hour." Champ reports, snagging a beer from the fridge beside his wife. "Said he wanted to come straight over when I mentioned it to him, but I expect Sophia - that's his lady - will want to at least drop their things at the house first."

"Speakin' of houses." Jack glances over at you quickly before he looks back at his friend and boss. "Sugar's gonna be movin' in with me. Should have it empty pretty quick."

"Well look at that." Champ smirks, chuckling with a pleased note in it. "Didn't take you two long at all once you stopped trying to tear each other's throats out. Fantastic."

"Fuck off." Jack's huff is purely bluster and he rolls his eyes to accompany his sentiment before he grins at Champ.

"Charming." You smirk at your soulmate and hug him tight. "You survived five days with my entire family, babe. You deserve to have a live-in cook as a reward."

Chuckling, he can't deny that. He tugs you closer and kisses your forehead. "I will love every second of it too."

"Uncle Jack!" Bobby swings down the main staircase with a broad smile on his face and lights up at the sight of his father's closest friend. "Did you get a load of the smoker yet? Dad's outdone himself."

"Both of your parents have pulled out all stops on this shindig, kid." He lets go of you to stride forward and pull the kid into a bone crushing hug.

"I'm glad you're here." The younger man admits quietly. The idea of leaving without being able to say goodbye had made his stomach turn.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Jack murmurs back, always thinking of the kid like his own. A lot of times he had wondered if his little boy and Bobby would have been best friends.

"Sucks that we never got to run a mission together." There's a hint of regret in Bobby's voice but he smiles, glancing back over at you as you talk to his parents. "You'll be back in the field soon though, right? Never know what can happen."

"As soon as I can get my guns polished." Jack promises with a grin, slapping his back fondly. "I'll make my way over to merry 'ol England and remind you how to use your ropes."

The first flood of guests to arrive includes Ginger and Gabriella and their kids, and before you know it there is music pumping through the outdoor speakers and drinks flowing, with people playing lawn games and dancing and enjoying the sunny spring day for everything it's worth.

Jack stands with Champ over at the smoker, a place of pride as the two men share a drink. His eyes straying over to you as you laugh with Diana and he smiles softly at the scene. Unsure of why he had felt like you wouldn't fit in. That you wouldn't work here in this part of his life, or in his life at all. You've taken to Statesman and everyone he cares about like a duck to water.

“Having fun, love?” When your drink ran dry you headed across the lawn to refresh and stopped on the deck to give Jack a kiss.

"Of course." Jack smirks and lifts his glass up. "I've got some of the best Kentucky mash in existence, a smoker working overtime and the prettiest gal at the party comin' to kiss me."

“Suck up,” you tease, but there’s no bite in it. Instead it just earns him another kiss and a flustered smile from you. “Diana makes dangerous cocktails, I might have to mix something slightly less potent for myself otherwise you’re actually going to have to carry me home like you threatened.”

Champ chuckles and shakes his head. "My girl always did have a heavy hand when pouring drinks." His own eyes find his soulmate and he softens, smiling gently at the older woman across the way as she bullies Astrid into taking another scoop of the mac and cheese, knowing how much the Statesman tech loves it.

“Astrid and Gabi invited us over for dinner tomorrow,” you tell Jack, stealing one more squeeze of a hug before you remind yourself that you’re too old to be hanging all over your soulmate like a groupie. “Is it okay if I tell them yes?”

"If you are wanting to go, sugar, you tell 'em." Jack agrees, knowing that if you want to go to dinner with your friends, he will show up with a smile. "As long as you don't work too hard tomorrow since it will be your first full day back."

“My first day back is the perfect day to have someone else cook dinner, don’t you think?” It’s certainly not a bad idea by any means, and you shoot him a grin. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

"What if I don't want you to be good?" Jack poses playfully. "Go tell them that you will only bring one dessert." He orders, smirking at your immediate pout.

“Only bringing one dessert is being good!” His teasing earns him a stuck-out tongue and you hustle into the house to get another drink before he can retaliate. You’re still giggling to yourself happily just seconds later as you pour yourself a slightly less powerful cocktail, but the sound of the front door opening and boots in the foyer drags your mind to the present. “Come on back!” You call to the new arrival, having heard Diana greet guests the same way an hour ago. “Party’s outside but the bar’s in here.”

"Well hey." Tex rushes up to hug you before he stops short, unsure of how exactly to approach you now that the truth is out there and Sophia is right beside him. He gives you a sheepish smile when you turn around to face him. "Looks like you are right at home, knew you would be."

“You’re home!” The way you both flinch when you obviously want to be excited to see friends makes you shove your hands in your pockets for just a moment before you decide not to care. Friends can hug each other, dammit. If this Kingsman agent soulmate of his has a problem with it, she’s never going to be comfortable at Statesman. “It’s so good to see you,” you tell him honestly, reaching forward to offer him that hug.

As soon as you open your arms, Tex breaths out a sigh of relief and Sophia knocks into him from behind. "Hug her, you ass!" She hisses at her soulmate in reproach before she shoves him again. Rolling her eyes at the hesitancy he's displaying when she knows exactly who you are and what you have done with Tex.

The laugh you let out in surprise becomes a snort, and you hug the life out of the 6’1” Texan before turning to the statuesque woman beside him - stunningly gorgeous even in her jeans and sweater. “You must be Sophia.”

Sophia can't help but grin, immediately liking you. "That I am." She isn't like most British, she's a hugger and she comes in to greet you as if you were an old friend. Which, in a twisted kind of way, you are. "You're the heartbreaker." She teases as she squeezes you and pulls back and looks over at Tex when he huffs and shuffles beside her. "Ohhhh piss off." She huffs at him goodnaturedly. "Not everyday you get to have a friend who's seen your soulmate's cock." Her grin is wicked when she turns back to you and winks. "And she and I are going to be best mates, ay?"

“You really have no choice in the matter.” You inform Tex, grinning like a mad woman when Sophia keeps one arm around you and you can’t help but feel like this woman glows from the inside out. “I love her. I’m keeping her. You and Jack need to have a good gruff grumble at each other so we can all get back to normal around here.” Turning to Sophia, you flash her a grin and nod toward the counter. “Fix you a drink?”

"God yes." Sophia huffs, rolling her eyes. "We had to fly commercial, dealt with an absolute cunt of a ticket agent." She groans, "they didn't even have a proper cuppa on that trash heap they called a jet!" She tends to be told that she's abrasive and mouthy, but she doesn't care. Thrilled to be here with her soulmate and eager to make friends with those that know him best.

“Come by the kitchen any time. I had some of our teas imported so the real thing is just a short walk from your office.” The bottle of rum is already in your hand when you look back at her. “Did Tex tell you what I do when he told you…the other stuff?”

"He said you were the best damn baker on this side of the ocean." She tilts her head and leans in conspiratorially. "Which isn't hard when you compare it to British pastries." She giggles before she reaches out and touches your arm. "Don't worry, Tex might have told me about the incident between you, but that was before we even knew we were soulmates. And I don't care who was wrapped around his cock before me. All that matters is now."

“British pastries are amazing, don’t you dare test me on that. My tea room is opening in just a couple of weeks and you’ll have access to as much tea as you can manage.” Eyeballing the right amount of each liquor for the daiquiri you had started making her, you grin when Tex just shakes his head and steps around you to grab an ice cold beer from the fridge. Warm beer just never sat well with him in any of the pubs he tried out. “What happened between us is in the past, but I’ve really missed my friend.” You tell her honestly. “I’m really glad that you’re not the type to judge before you meet someone.”

"Though I want to punch that soulmate of yours." Sophia's grin turns into a frown and she looks you over curiously. "But it seems like you are doing surprisingly well, considering Tex said you were grieving when he left." There's a question in her comment, one that would be easily ignored if you didn't want to talk about it and the opening if you did.

“Jack and I are doing a lot better.” You hold a fixed glass out to her when you turn around. “Actually? We’re doing great. It was a bumpy ride but we’re on track now. Just like…it seems like you and Tex are doing well?”

"We are." Sophia can't stop the grin if she tries as she lifts the cocktail up to take a drink. "We both have always wanted to find our soulmates and it's just– it's exhilarating. You know?" She asks, making a face of delight when she tastes the drink you had mixed up. "Ohhhh this is good." She moans. "I'm going to love it here."

“I hope you like whiskey because around here it’s a religion.” Looping your arm through hers, you tap your glass against hers and grin. “Come outside and meet everyone.”

Jack looks up to find you and another woman with your arms intertwined and your heads pressed together, a cheery grin on both of your faces. Tilting his head and wondering who the woman is, his question is answered a second later when Tequila follows you and her out of the house, a very uncomfortable set to the boy's shoulders that immediately has Jack grinning out of spite. "Hot damn." He chuckles. "Trouble's blown back into town." He calls out over the yard.

"Tex!" Diana's delighted gasp from halfway across the yard is echoed almost immediately by a wave of other cheers and greetings, and you pull Sophia to the side with you just a few inches so you don't get run over by the ever-boisterous Bobby Rogers who comes careening up to the porch to say hello with an aggressive hug.

"Is everyone as enthusiastic around here?" Sophia bursts out laughing as the obviously grown man nearly tackles her soulmate in a hug that might have killed a lesser man.

"Pretty much," you laugh, nodding a little as Tex and Bobby share something that can only be classified as a bear hug. "I give it until the end of the party until you're getting hugs that big, too. Part of it is just...everybody loves Tex. And they're so excited to meet you."

"I heard he was something of a partier while he was here." Sophia finds it vastly amusing that the stereotypical cowboys around here act like they are all one big group of teddy bears. Most of them wrapped around their soulmates or coming over to greet Tex.

"Just a little." Throwing her a conspiratorial wink, you take it on yourself to introduce the newest arrival to Jack, since her soulmate is currently in the center of a group hug that would put any sorority to shame. "Honey," you reach out to touch Jack's shoulder and get his attention. "This is Sophia. Soph– this is Jack." The grin that unfurls on your face is unstoppable. "My soulmate."

"Well, fuck me." Sophia grins, shaking her head and reaching out to shake his hand. Unsure if this one was a hugger and she wants to needle him some. "Do they breed them all like fucking Gods here?"

You snort again, louder this time, and almost double over laughing at the comment. "Holy shit." It's going to take you a lot longer than just one or two seconds to regain your composure, especially with how amused Jack looks. "I fucking love this girl," you pronounce absolutely to anyone who could possibly be listening. "And yes. They do. At least, Statesman recruits all the godlike ones."

"I should have come over to America sooner." Sophia huffs, grinning towards her soulmate. "Tried a few of these cowboys on for size before I found Tex."

"Naw, you already got the second best the country has to offer." Your eyes slide over to Jack and you smile again, feeling that familiar fluttering in your chest that you always get when you look at him. "I'm afraid I already nabbed the best for myself."

Jack chuckles and reaches for you, relieved that the entire situation isn't awkward. Sophia looks like she is a woman who will keep Tex on his toes. "All yours, sugar." He promises. "All yours."

When Tex finally manages to extricate himself from the mountain of greetings, you ambles back over to Sophia with a sheepish grin on his face. "Didn't I tell ya we liked big hellos around here, baby?" He practically blushes, running his hand down her arm to thread their fingers together before looking up at you and his best friend. Or, at least, the man who had been his best friend. He's just hoping that he didn't fuck that up too badly. "Jack." He flusters before holding out his hand to say hello.

Jack stares at the boy's hand for a moment before he slaps it away. The sharp inhale of the entire group barely able to register before Jack busts out into a chuckle and grabs Tex, pulling him in for another rib bustin' hug. "Son of a bitch!" He growls. "The fuck took you so long? I've been miserable with just Champ for company."

The air goes out of all of you all at once, and Tex practically crumples into hugging his best fucking friend. "Jackass," he huffs, though the relief is clear in his voice. "You know that's why your daddy named you Jack, right? Knew from birth that you'd be a jackass."

"Better than Tex." Jack huffs, slapping the taller man's back harshly. It would sound like he's hitting. him, but it's just the affection being pounded back into him like men do. "Can't hit for shit, Tex." Jack's own relief at Tex's return and forgiveness for his actions are palpable. A weight off his shoulders.

"Gonna have to get back in the practice ring." Tex chuckles, shaking his head at Jack before he wraps his arm around Sophia and flashes the softest smile in the world at her. "It's good to be home." He has to admit that. Fully and wholeheartedly.

It's satisfying, seeing the boy wear a besotted smile that he's only seen one other time. This time he's got an even bigger sparkle in his eyes and it's reserved for Sophia. "Good to have you home." Jack promises, nodding at the other agent meaningfully. "You made it in time for the grand openin' too."

"I heard!" And he's not going to lie and claim that he didn't hurry back to be here in time. "Gotta admit I'm a little bummed to have missed out on all the menu tastings, but..." he clears his throat and looks down at Sophia who gives him an encouraging nod. "Champ says...y'all are gonna be doing weddings soon?"

"Oh my god..." You're wide-eyed when you realize what he's asking, and immediately look down at Sophia's hand to see a meteor-sized emerald on her finger. It's unique and bold, exactly like she is. "Are you serious? That's so exciting!"

"Goddamn." Jack whistles, not missing the split second flash of something on your face. It wasn't necessarily envy but it's more like a yearning. He thinks about the conversation he had with your father and knows that he will be sliding that ring on your finger just as soon as he can get you alone after the opening. He'll have to text your dad for a picture of the ring, get another band to compliment it. Something specifically from him for his soulmate. "Congratulations." He offers seriously.

"He wanted to wait until we got over here to have the thing." Sophia absolutely beams, looking between you and Jack. "Something utterly unEnglish. No little village church, no dour aunties over breakfast, no pall mall on the lawn." She snorts as though the idea of it is completely ridiculous.

"You'll both help, won't you?" Tex had talked about you both constantly once he was more comfortable doing so. They had opened up to each other so quickly that his hesitancy to talk about you and Jack had been the biggest clue that the two of you are important to him.

"Whatever you need from me." Jack agrees instantly, knowing that he will do anything to help the couple have the event they are dreaming of. Wanting them to be happy here, he wants Tex to be happy. Wants him to be happy with his soulmate. Just like he is now with you.

"Absolutely anything." And if you happen to have a few stray thoughts about your own wedding, it won't be your fault. But you would never bring it up to Jack.

"So you mean to tell me that the first weddin' you and Diana are gunna plan is Tex's?" Jack can't help but chuckle at the irony of it.

"Looks like it." You have a sip of your drink and note with a clear conscience that the only jealousy you feel is for being able to get married, not for the specific man. That would have been a whole extra therapy session right there.

"Looks like I owe my wife twenty bucks and a spa day," Champ chuckles from a few feet away, eyeing his two agents with amusement. "I'd sworn it woulda been Jack and his Sugar, here."

Tex’s eyes widen and he glances at you and then Jack. Just now realizing that things are a bit more friendly than when he left. “Seriously?” He asks, a slow grin breaking out on his face. “You two?”

"We're not engaged or anything," you quickly throw that conversation off the rails before it can get traction, not wanting to make Jack uncomfortable. Instead you choose to focus on the very real and very positive step toward a solid relationship that you actually are taking. "But, um...I'm moving...to Jack's place." For Sophia's benefit, you point at the side of the large house across two yards. "Right next door."

“Really?” Sophia hums and her calculating gaze turns towards Jack. “That’s a mighty big house to not be married in and fill with babies.” She points out practically.

"Ain't it, though?" Tex adjusts his arm around Sophia and grins. "Seems an awful shame not to have that place full of life."

"Oookay." Too nervous to even look at Jack, you give his hand a squeeze and remind yourself to smile. "I'm gonna go tell Gabi that we're on for dinner tomorrow before I forget," you murmur, excusing yourself as fast as gracefully possible.

Jack huffs, narrowing his eyes at the happy couple, although he isn’t upset. “Let me propose to the girl before you have her knocked up and pushin’ out babies.” His heart skips a beat at that thought but he closes his eyes and reminds himself that he diced Rollins into easy to handle pieces.

"Well she's not running because she's afraid of it." Sophia observes, sipping her drink. "She looks at you like you...what's the phrase?" One glance up at Tex and she remembers it. "Like you hung the stars in the sky."

“She’s gotta– gotta heal first.” Jack murmurs quietly. Taking another sip of his drink and watching you talk with Gabi and Astrid.

"Heal?" Tex's face flashes anger immediately but since Jack looks upset rather than angry it dissipates immediately. "What the hell happened? She looks fine."

“She– uh, she was kidnapped a week ago.” Jack tells Tequila brokenly. “Someone– it was… the same person who killed my Abigail and baby boy. Took her and tortured her.”

The way Tequila absorbs that information is the instant and yet simultaneously thorough turning of gears that marks him as an intelligence agent. Has he heard the words and absorbed their meaning? Absolutely. But is he still processing their full implication? That could take an extra moment. "Tell me you took care of it," he hisses, trying to even imagine half of what he would do to someone who hurt Sophia, let alone two of his soulmates. "Tell me you took care of it or we're leaving in the Silver Pony right now."

“They are in tiny pieces.” Jack confirms. “Never gunna hurt her again. I made sure of it.” His satisfaction is grim and he’s never told you that he’s got a video file of what he had done to Rollins, captured through his glasses, on his phone for when he needs a reminder the bastard is dead.

"Good." Both the agents in front of him - Tequila and Isolde - nod seriously. "So what she needs is to take her mind off things?" Sophia raises an eyebrow at both men. "Or should I be aiming her right at wedding thoughts to have her giddy to be proposed to?"

“I’m gunna propose after her grand openin’.” He admits quietly. “Her daddy’s bringing me her grandmother's ring. Gonna give her that and a ring to go with it from me.”

"So get her excited, then." That seems to delight Sophia, who has a mischievous streak several kilometers long. "Cheers."

“She’ll try to ignore being excited.” Jack predicts. “But remind her that it’s okay to dream. To want things.” A lot of this is because of the way he treated you, and he knows it will take time to completely fix things.

“Consider it done.” An intrigue, her mother would have called it, and Sophia has always loved a good intrigue.

“But, doesn’t mean I don’t want her to focus on your weddin’.” Jack promises. “Ain’t lookin’ to steal your thunder.”

“Jack, I, uh—” Readjusting his stance and wiping his palms on his jeans, Tex is the very picture of nerves. “I wanted to ask you to be my best man, if you weren’t still pissed at me.”

Jack looks seriously at Tex, knowing that the boy is still unsure of their standing despite the greeting. He swallows, emotional and soft at the idea. “I’d be honored.” He answers honestly, reaching out and pulling him in for another hug. “Fuckin’ honored.”

“Good.” It’s as heartfelt a moment as could be between the two men, and Sophia smiles as she rubs a hand gently on her soulmate’s back. “He was bloody terrified to ask on the way over in case you were still mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” Jack asks, making sure that the boy holds his gaze. “I was wrong.” He admits. “I owe you an apology. I shoulda made sure you knew the score. I’m sorry.”

“And I shouldn’t’ve overreacted.” Tex isn’t fool enough to think he didn’t go overboard by hauling off and laying Jack out flat. But clearing the air is what they both need. “I’m glad it’s behind us.”

“Water under the bridge.” Jack waves it away, aware that he shouldn’t have hit him, but Jack was being a jackass. “Let’s just leave that in the past.”

“Right.” Tex nods, glad to have it all aired out, and looks over at Sophia with a grin. “I’m gonna go show off my lady,” he announces unrepentantly. “Can we sit and eat with you guys later on? Catch up?”

“Go on.” Jack nods and waves them away. “Gotta make sure Champ doesn’t ruin the brisket.”

“I would not!” Champ looks scandalized at that the way only a Texas man can, and all three men laugh before Tex bundles Sophia up against him and goes out into the yard to say hello to old friends.

Jack chuckles and nudges Champ with his shoulder. “Guess things are lookin’ good. ‘Cept I know you’ll miss the kid.”

“I will.” Champ is not too proud a man to admit that he’ll miss his only child. “But every boy’s gotta leave home to grow, don’t they?”

“They do.” Jack admits, knowing his life would have been much different if he hadn’t left the ranch. Even under those circumstances. He honestly wonders what the world would be like if Jack Daniels had never become Agent Whiskey. It’s a sobering thought. “Good thing the kid knows that he’s welcome home whenever he needs a soft place to land.”

“Yeah.” Champ huffs a laugh as he inspects the progress the meat is making in the smoker. “Your house.” He doesn’t grouse about it, though, he only chuckles. “I know he’ll do well. It’s just hard to see him go.”

“I know, but the kid is a helluva agent.” Jack beams with pride, since he had helped train the kid. “You and Di did a fine job.”

“Give it a little time, Jack.” There’s confidence in Champ’s tone. It’s soft, but it’s there. “Yours will be just as headstrong and determined as you and their mama.”

“It scares the hell out of me.” Jack confesses, looking over at where you are talking with Rye, flown in from New York. You had given him a hug and there were some tears, but you had waved him off from coming over. “What if I lose her? Another baby?” He chokes out. “It’ll kill me.”

“The man who took your family - who tried to take this one - is dead.” Champ reminds him quietly, abandoning the smoker to focus entirely on his friend. “I know it’s hard to remember, but I’ll remind ya every day if you’re needin’ it. What else could hurt her - birth? Not with Ginger hoverin’ over her the whole time. Ain’t no disease we can’t tackle. No danger that Statesman can’t pull her back from. And shit,” Champ clicks his tongue. “With how well she did under pressure? Leavin’ you her bracelet as a clue an all? Keepin’ her secrets like she did? Even if there were other people out there who might wanna make a target out of a Statesman agent’s wife, I’d be more afraid for them then I am for her.”

“She’s a goddamn goddess, isn’t she?” Quiet pride fills him as he stares at you in a way that has his eyes watering slightly. Just drinking in the sight of his soulmate happy and healthy. “I never believed in second soulmates, never wanted one.” He knows that Champ is completely aware of that. “But I’m goddamn proud that this is who the universe chose for me.”

“She loves the hell out of you.” The older man claps Jack on the back in a friendly, playful gesture. “Can’t for the life of me figure out why, but you’re goddamn lucky.”

“Don’t I know it.” It’s a far cry from his viewpoint a month ago, but it’s amazing what can happen when you let the fear go.

______ 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!

[jedijesi]

Caught in the Cat's Web

Chapter 1

Felicia Hardy! Reader x Miguel O’Hara

Series Masterlist 🕸 Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, Sexual Tension, she/her pronouns

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Felicia Hardy, Black Cat, endures a nasty breakup with Peter Parker, and now with her new Spider-Powers, she must navigate the Spider society and meet their esteemed leader.

Co-writer: @stclairesplace

A/N: This a Felecia Hardy Self Insert, beyond her classic platinum hair color, no descriptive terms are used! Insert yourselves, loves! This is my first Miguel fic, enjoy!

New York, Earth-194

“No, Peter! I- I can’t keep fighting for us if you’re just gonna run back to MJ every time!” Felicia sobbed. 

“We were just talking about our relationship!” Peter yells in defense. 

Felicia's hands come up to her forehead, smoothing out her platinum hair back in frustration. “You said it was over, Peter! You don’t need to continue to talk to her, especially not at 8:30 on a Friday in a restaurant! The same restaurant you took me to last week, by the way, for our 6 month anniversary!” 

“It doesn’t matter, Felicia! Nothing happened!” Peter runs his fingers through his hair pacing back and forth in frustration. 

“No! You- you lied to me, you told me you didn’t have feelings for her anymore.” Felicia breaks out into more tears, blinding her. “I don’t want to be ‘the other woman’ anymore, Peter. I won’t be. I can’t keep waiting for you, hoping you’ll finally look at me the way you look at MJ. I’m done.” 

Before Peter could say another word, the sound of Felicia’s grappling hook cut him off. In an instant, Felicia goes back into her Black Cat persona, swinging through the New York Skyline. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been 3 weeks since the breakup. 3 weeks of crying, ice cream, and pajamas. Felicia had never taken a breakup hard, she’d always known her worth, but something about Peter Parker was different. It made no sense as to why it hurt so much. She’s been cheated on before, she’s watched partners come and go, but she was able to brush it off like it was nothing. Then stupid Peter Parker had to come and along, turn her into a hero, and break her heart. 

By habit, the sound of sirens outside her apartment causes her to pause her show, and look at the Black Cat suit hidden behind the painting next to the window. 

Felicia sighs, unable to decide if she should cry or scream. Ultimately, she decided to continue eating her ice cream, pushing the images of Spider-Man somewhere out there fighting crime. 

Despite pushing her feelings away, a tear escapes her, sliding down her cheek. Suddenly, chills go down Felicia’s spine. She looks around the quiet apartment trying to figure out what was happening when her tear begins to slide back up her cheek and into the air. The empty pint and spoon along with various items follow suit, prompting Felicia to grab the gun and knife hidden under the couch. 

A bright light emits in the middle of the living room, transforming into a colorful circular object. Felicia’s guard falls, recognizing the multi-dimensional portal. 

“Woah! What’s with the guns?” Jessica Drew, questions as she emerges. 

“You could have given me a heads up instead of scaring the shit out of me.” Felicia rolls her eyes before putting her weapons away. 

“I told you, I’d come pick you up in a month.” 

Felicia’s eyes widened in surprise. “It’s been a month since I’ve last seen you?!” 

“Ahuh,” Jessica responds as she inspects the apartment. “Has it been a month since you’ve cleaned too?”

“Uh- 3 weeks, actually.” 

Jessica whips her head around. “3 weeks?! What the fuck happened, girl!”

Felicia rolls her eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

Honestly, she didn’t have to. Jessica could see right through the broken-hearted girl. “You ready to go then?”

“I don’t think I can meet the boss man like this.” Felicia frowns, looking down at her oversized tee shirt stained with ice cream and various mysterious stains from her wallowing sessions. 

Jessica nods, “Shower and change. I’ll help you clean up this shit.” 

It took about an hour for Felicia to clean up and feel like herself again. After putting on her Black Catsuit, she looks into the mirror, smiling for the first time in 3 weeks, feeling like herself again. 

Felicia emerges from her bedroom, finding Jessica standing in the middle of her cleaned-up apartment. “Holy shit, Jess!” She feels like she could cry.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome, hon, let’s go or I'll get a lecture.” Jessica hastily as she creates the portal.

Felicia’s been through multi-dimensional portals a few times before, but it’s still something she can barely get used to. 

~~~~~~

Nueva York, Earth 838

Nueva York was bustling with life as heroes of the spider society swung and walked around. Felicia felt both excited and overwhelmed. It was hard walking into a world full of people who dressed, talked, and looked like her ex. 

“Cat!” Jessica shouted across the hall to the distracted woman, pulling her out of her trance. “Move!”

Felicia scurried across the main hall, doing her best to weave between spider people. Once she caught up to Jessica, they made their way to the ‘big man’s office’ as Jessica puts it. 

The two women entered the dark, grand office. Felicia spots a platform about 20 feet in the air with dozens of holographic screens filled with information and statistics. In the center stood the back of a blue and red man. 

“Ahem!” LYLA appeared next to the tall man. “Your newest recruit is here.” 

The platform slowly lowers but the man doesn't move. Instead, he touches the holographic screens, causing Felicia’s profile to appear. 

“Felicia Hardy?” 

Felicia was taken aback by his voice. She didn’t know what she was expecting but it wasn’t that. It’s a low, resonant tone that fills the air and commands respect and attention. It has a subtle vibration that conveys confidence and strength, and it's a sound that Felicia finds attractive and comforting. His voice has the power to evoke emotion and stir feelings of comfort and security. 

Jessica nudges the woman beside her, yanking Felicia from her thoughts. “Yes, Sir.” She purrs, easing back into the Felicia Hardy she knows and loves. 

“According to my data, you’re the first spider woman.” The platform touches the ground prompting the man to turn to look at Felicia. 

She couldn’t help but admire the man’s build and height, thinking that the elevated perspective had made him appear bigger. “The one and only.” She smirks. 

“Hmm…” The man thinks for a moment, admiring the beautiful woman in front of him. He’s seen and read about plenty of Felicia’s as they have been a big part in some Spider-Man’s lives. Yet, this Felicia seemed different. Her eyes sparkled and the way she carried herself radiated confidence. “I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Spider-man 2099, my name is Miguel O’Hara.” Miguel closes some distance, letting his mask retract to reveal his messy wavy head and stunning brown eyes.  

“Felica.” She replies, making intense eye contact with the man. 

Miguel slowly walks closer and begins to circle her like a vulture, studying his prey. “ According to your file, you only got your powers several months ago. Explain.”

“Long story short, my… Spider-Man and I infiltrated Oscorp. They were trying to replicate the serum and I ended up getting accidentally bit by one of their patients during the fight, but they’re all dead now, don’t worry.”

“Hmmm..” Miguel hummed as he inspected her suit. “Is this your spider suit?” 

“I don’t need one.” Felicia crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at the Spider-Man. 

“If you want to join the spider society you do. What’s your call sign?”

“Black Cat.” Felicia side-eyes Miguel, predicting his thoughts. 

“Jess,” Miguel looks over to the woman, now sitting in the corner. “Why waste my time?” 

“Waste your time?!” Felicia snaps, turning to look at Miguel. “You need me!” 

“Ahuh.” He rolls his eyes as his mask covers his face, unleashing Felicia's three weeks of pent-up rage. 

“Listen here Spider-Man! I spent 4 months training my ass off, learning my powers, and proving to your little spider society that I’m worthy. I am not going to let you circle me and make assumptions about me based on my outfit and variants! I’ll fight you right now, and I’ll kick your ass!” 

Miguel can’t help but make a small smirk at Felicia’s personality. Miguel steps closer tilting his head down so that his chin practically grazes his collarbone and lets his mask fade. Felica stands her ground looking directly up into his chocolate eyes with fiery determination. She wasn’t going to let some self-appointed leader tell her she wasn’t good enough. 

Meanwhile, in the corner of the office, Jessica and LYLA watch the interaction with confusion. “What the fuck is happening?” 

“I- I really can’t tell you.” LYLA replies. “There’s something there though.” LYLA pulls out her phone taking a picture of the two for future evidence or blackmail before glitching away. 

Still withholding their gazes on each other Miguel eventually snaps out of it only to grumble.  “LYLA, take Felicia to the tailor to make a suit.”. A short smirk makes it’s way on Felicia’s face, silently congratulating herself that she got her way. “We’ll start your training with the other spiders tomorrow morning. Bright and early. As for you ‘Black Cat’ let’s get one thing straight here…” Felicia raises her eyebrow in anticipation, her arms crossed over her chest, her cleavage poking through just enough in the black skin-tight suit adorning her body. “You may be used to playing by your own rules and whatnot but here, this is my playground. And what I say, goes.” He leans back against the small table behind him, his arms now also crossed over his chest, making it hard for Felicia not to notice the way his biceps and arms moved with each breath he took. “Do I make myself clear, gata?”

Felicia unfolds her arms and takes a step closer to Miguel, squaring her shoulders as if preparing for a fight. “Yes, Araña.” 

“And start thinking of new names,” Miguel said before walking back to his desk with a smirk. 

Chapter 2

A/N: Its good to be back! Please let me know what you think💕

[silverjirachi]

How were you a cult leader for a week?

Okay so this is going to be a looooonnnggg story and I never even really sat back and thought about how batshit insane it was until I started talking about it with other people. Which is more recently than you'd expect for the fact that it took place over ten years ago. But back then I also didn't have the life experience to see how.. weird and creepy it was until well, well afterwards.

Another thing that contributed to the fact that I never really thought or spoke about it because that was actually a core tenant of the program. If you talk about it, you're ruining the "sacredness" of the experience if someone else might go through it. So you gotta keep it secret so it's not spoiled for them. Which was a way bigger deal at my school than it now is like, out in the wild. And when I said that first part out loud "So like, oh! I'm not actually supposed to talk about this, BUT" I realized this was some cult shit.

Like I said, long story so I'm gonna put it under a cut for people who wanna read.

Alright so. This story begins at my co-ed Catholic high school. Each year as part of our like, religious enrichment, we went on "retreats" or missions to different areas locally. Freshmen didn't have one, though their was like 1 day of service out in the community. (We went to a retirement home and passed out valentine's cards all day if memory serves).

Sophomores and Juniors got to participate in the more coveted, multiple-day religious retreats that were school-sponsored excuses to get out of school. And they were mandatory, even if you were not Catholic.

What's important to know about these retreats is that they were FAMOUS at our school. They were surrounded with so much mystique, hype, and infamy. People spread rumors about them. People spread lies about them. People spread gossip about who did what with such and such during these retreats. One common, straight-faced lie that almost ALL seniors told about the Senior Retreat was that you all "got naked and danced around a fire" (this will be relevant later). The Naked Fire Dance was like a schoolwide JOKE about this very famous, very infamous senior retreat called Kairos.

What added to this hype, particularly around Kairos, is that once you completed it, you got this special (though rather plain-looking) cross that was given out at the end of the retreat. ALL the seniors who had been through Kairos wore them, EVERY DAY, and groups of students were taken on retreats in groups of 40-50, so not the whole class got them at once. It was like a gradual progression watching these crosses appear around peoples' necks. And like, they got to miss ALMOST A FULL WEEK OF SCHOOL. Come on now. That's amazing.

I actually broke down crying when my own Kairos cross broke during band practice and my percussion instructor fixed it for me. That's how important these things were, both as an emotional AND a status symbol. Wearing a Kairos cross was on an equal level with having a class ring - if you wore one, you had MADE IT.

So I was naturally STOKED when I discovered I was selected to take part in Kairos at the end of my JUNIOR YEAR rather than my senior year. Looking back on it, this absolutely was not random. Kairos retreats were split into different dates for a very particular purpose, and that was to make sure there was always a fresh influx of students to become the next set of "leaders" on these retreats. The first round of Kairos actually began in May or June of the respective class's JUNIOR YEAR so that there would be some classmates to lead the next Kairos that would begin in the proper senior year in the fall. I was selected for this first session because they ABSOLUTELY had already scouted me out as a potential leader and wanted to make sure I had the chance to. I had good grades in religion, participation in church, etc, and kind of had a reputation for it.

Funnily enough, these were all numbered, and I was on Kairos 68. I led Kairos 69, which they changed to Kairos 70. Do the kids these day know? Do they even know their whole numbering system is off because their school refused to allow Kairos 69 to exist?

BUT WHEN ARE WE GETTING TO THE CULT SHIT? Ok. We'll get into the cult shit now.

So the first thing to know about these retreats and therefore also Kairos is that they take place in the middle of the woods. They're at a spiritual retreat center led by some monks about 30-40 minutes away from the school. So you are ISOLATED in what is essentially a large cabin but feels more like a retirement home. Everyone gets their own tiny little room that basically only had a bed, a dresser, and your own sink in it.

They take you into this cabin in the middle of the woods and of course you have to give up all your electronics. Your phone is confiscated from you if they find you have brought it, etc. Not only this, but then you find that they have covered up all the clocks. So you start to develop this immediate sense of restlessness and time blindness because all the clocks are covered with a white sheet and a sign that says "GOD'S TIME." Your entire day structure and even sense of TIME are now at the mercy of the cult leaders, excuse me, I mean student leaders and teacher chaperones on the retreat.

There are no parents here. It's just about fifty 17 to 18 year olds and about 7 teachers. And about 6 student "group leaders" who had a very, very central and important role in the whole event.

What essentially happened was for the next 4 days, we sat in this group conference room at round tables listening to talks and having breakout discussions about Jesus all day. Church in the morning and evening. You got max like, 1, maybe 2 hours of free time after lunch. Literally just living that #monasterylife. But there was something very... particular... about these talks that are things I definitely do not think go down at a monastery.

Each day, a handful of the teachers and student group leaders gave talks surrounded a particular topic or theme of the day. I can't remember all of them, but they'd be things like Piety, and Service, and Charity, and Forgiveness, etc. Christian values. Each talk had a name centered around a particular value. Mine was Piety.

The thing about these talks though, is that they were incredibly, deeply, invasively personal.

Now, I'm going to be upfront and say no one was forced to go up there and spill the deepest darkest secrets of their life. All the student leaders had signed up for this KNOWING they'd be asked to write an incredibly personal sermon on their assigned topic. But there is something addictive about that cult mentality when everyone is getting up on that pulpit oversharing well, you wanna spill your whole life story too. (However, we'll get back to some insider secrets about this later).

TW next paragraphs off-hand but not graphically mentioning suicide, suicidal ideation, self harm and cutting, domestic abuse, etc.

Teachers went up there and talked about their marriages and divorces and how such things brought them closer to God. About how their drunken fathers beat them. Student leaders got up there and gave talks about their suicide attempts or being abused and how being saved from these things brought them closer to god. I learned the intimate ups and downs of my teachers' and fellow classmates' lives in a way I NEVER thought I would and it would all be wrapped up in a little lesson about god. They'd play a little meaningful song of the speaker's choice before and after the sermon to set the scene and help everyone reflect and pray. Mine were Uncharted by Sara Bareilles and The Unwinding Cable Car by Anberlin. Very deep and meaningful stuff to me at age 17.

As the week progresses and the students drink more of the kool-aid, the participant students are even allowed to go up and say a few words too. And I am not kidding when I say each night there would be at least 1-2 confessions of suicidal ideation or suicide attempts, a handful of mentions of cutting or self harm, and a handful of mentions of actively being abused, even in relationships with other students not on the retreat.

No trigger warnings because this was like 2012 and those were only JUST becoming a thing.

Now, looking back on it now as someone who has taught middle and high schoolers, I can only say: WHaT THE HELL? Teachers absolutely were not required to report these confessions, and I think actively were encouraged not to. I know for a fact student leaders were not supposed to report anything. Because it was supposed to be a safe space where people could say anything. To know someone might take action outside that world would violate the sacred trust we were building with one another, and the closeness we were getting to god. People could reach out to someone individually after the retreat, but unlike in a lot of other cases where it would be MANDATORY for an adult to report certain things, no such enforcement here existed. As a teen, that seemed awesome. As an adult who has taught and looked after children now, I am horrified. I know it's a complicated nuanced topic, but holy hell batman.

And as a 17-year-old retreat leader, I felt responsible for my flock. One girl confessed to me about her mom who was being actively abusive, and I, at the tender age of 17, was suddenly put in a position where I felt like I had to do something for her. I'M NOT EQUIPPED TO DEAL WITH THAT!! I'M SEVENTEEN!!! But she confided in me and now I wanna support her in any way I can. I went over to her house several times after that retreat and honestly almost got myself into some horrible, dangerous situations because I felt like I was obligated to because we had shared this soul-baring bond at Kairos. I TOLD NO ONE. I GOT HELP FROM NO ADULT ON THIS.

BUT THESE TALKS WEREN'T EVEN THE ONLY WILD AND WACKY THINGS THAT HAPPENED THAT WEEK!!

One of the other biggest events at Kairos was "letters night." This happens on like the second night of the retreat when all 50 teenagers are herded into a dark room lit only by a few candles and sit in silence for a few minutes. We're all sitting there wondering what's going on. Then, all of a sudden, one of our teachers starts reading a letter addressed to someone. At the end of the letter, it's revealed its from a parent or loved one of at student in the room. They're called up to receive their letter and a hug of comfort if they want it, because of course half of us are sobbing at this point. This goes on for all fifty students in the room. Each of us gets a deeply personal letter from our parents or loved ones about our life stories read in front of forty-nine of our other peers. I can't even imagine how this must have felt for someone without loving parents, but they made it work so everyone had a meaningful letter read aloud.

After that LONG, LONG process, we do one final meditation and are led back to our rooms for sleep. It is then we discover BOATLOADS of letters from other students that have been dumped all over our rooms and our beds. Letters of love, encouragement, well-wishes. Confessions of love or admiration. Letters of apology. Truly anything your upperclassmen friends, relatives, or others might want to write about you. The letters night is kept INCREDIBLY secret and is actually one of the reasons I never talked about Kairos. Because, as personal as it is, it was also an incredibly powerful, formative moment for me. It made me feel more loved and more valued as a person who made a difference on this earth than anything else in my life at that point, and I hung on to my Kairos letters for a very long time afterwards. And the not knowing anything, the surprise of it all really contributed to that. It was like getting hit with a truck with nothing but sheer love, especially at a time in my life when I felt worthless and unwanted and was, myself, actively considering suicide. Writing letters to my group members and friends going on Kairos was my favorite part of the whole process.

And then there was. The moment you have all been waiting for. THE NAKED FIRE DANCE.

Now, thankfully, this was not an actual naked fire dance. But the joke was at last revealed. It is called the naked fire dance, because it is at this point that THE STUDENT LEADERS, and ONLY the students leaders, NO TEACHERS, take their small flock back UNSUPERVISED into these small breakout rooms and they have... the naked fire dance. All the lights are off. It's the middle of the night. The small room is lit only with one candle, and everyone sits in a circle as the teenage cult leader starts with a single prayer. Then she opens up the floor. Now all the students, heart to heart, sit around this single candle for the next hour sharing secrets about themselves. Confessing things to each other. It's called the naked fire dance because you "take off your masks" (aka "get naked) in a circle around "a fire" (candle).

Again, this was an incredibly moving and formative experience for me. I was in a group with jocks, cheerleaders, people I'd NEVER interact with normally. And I felt so loved and connected to them. But that's a big component about how cults work. They feel good!!

Then, you all go back for one final group prayer and are released to bed. The next morning is the 4th day where they do some wrapping up, and you find out the whole retreat is structured around Jesus' 3 day death or whatever. And then you, on the 4th day - rise again. You live the fourth!! And you also talk about it to no one. Ever. That is a very important component of Living the 4th: Don't you dare fucking talk about it.

You go back to the school on a bus for your parents to pick you up and you are led into the chapel for one "final prayer" it's then that you are stampeded at down the hallway by all the other students who have already been through Kairos. That was also very special, like the letters moment. Just a WALL of over a hundred other teenagers running straight for you screaming. My boyfriend was there and picked me up and spun me around it was really sweet and nice. Trainwreck of love.

AND NOW FOR SOME INSIDER KNOWLEDGE FROM SOMEONE WHO SPENT A WEEK AS A CULT LEADER STUDENT DISCUSSION LEADER:

Every night after we'd send the students to bed, all the teachers and student leaders would convene in this other, side cabin like a high council. It was there that we'd review how the day went, how our breakout and small group discussions went, things we were observing in our flock student group, things we wanted advice and guidance on, etc. They were nice meetings. We'd have snacks. It'd be fun etc.

BUT. MY FAVORITE PART OF THESE MEETINGS. WE'D TALK ABOUT OUR NEXT TARGETS. WE'D TALK ABOUT WHO IN OUR GROUPS WE THOUGHT WAS CLOSE TO "BREAKING." AKA OPENING UP TO BARE THEIR SOUL AND CONNECT TO THE OTHER STUDENTS. TO LIKE. SPILL ALL THEIR BEANS.

WE WOULD DISCUSS STRATEGIES TO HELP BREAK THEM.

"Oh yeah I think letters night tomorrow is gonna break Chris enough to open up at the naked fire dance."

"Kelsey is SO CLOSE to getting there I think she'll break through tomorrow morning."

"Yeah I think Ryan just needs his space but I can tell he'll come around so we'll not push we'll just gently continue to offer."

HELLO???

I'M SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD AND IN A ROOMFUL OF OTHER STUDENTS AND MY TEACHERS TALKING ABOUT HOW TO PSYCHOLOGICALLY MANIPULATE OTHER STUDENTS INTO SHARING SECRETS ABOUT THEMSELVES???

And again, never even thought that was weird or culty until now. Just thought I was helping my fellow students get the most out of Kairos. And you're not supposed to talk about Kairos, btw.

Anyways. TL;DR it was a really great experience for me and taught me a lot about empathy for others and self love, however there were definitely more than a few ethical violations and things that now raise a number of concerns for me as an adult that I think will never get fully addressed.

And that's how I helped to lead a cult for a week!

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on 14th January, 1991 - Queen Story!

'Innuendo' / 'Bijou' single released in UK

(taken from the forthcoming album 'Innuendo', the fourteenth)

👉 Illustrations by Grandville (1803-1847)

🔸"Innuendo"

Jam session in Switzerland amongst Brian, Roger and John in spring 1989. Freddie was upstairs and heard them playing the beat, and turned it into a song, creating the melody and starting off the lyrics.

🔸"Bijou"

was an idea Freddie and Brian had of making a song "inside-out" (having guitar doing the verses and the vocal doing the break). Freddie put the chords, title and lyrics, and the two of them worked on the guitar parts

🔸"The song started off as most things do, with us just messing around and finding a groove that sounded nice. All of us worked on the arrangement. Freddie started off the theme of the words as he was singing along, then Roger worked on the rest of them. I worked on some of the arrangement, particularly the middle bit, then there was an extra part that Freddie did for the middle as well. It basically came together like a jigsaw puzzle."

- Brian May - 1991

🔸"'Innuendo' was an improvisation type song where they actually recorded it here in the big concert hall, it's just next door, and we set up like a live performance, and they just started playing, and sort of got into a nice rhythm and a groove, and some chords and then Freddie said, 'Oh, I like that,' and rushed downstairs into the concert hall and started singing along with it. Obviously then, once that initial idea was down on tape, then there was a lot of rearranging and putting extra things on, but the actual beginning of it was like a live thing. It just happened. It was wonderful. Freddie played a strong role in the writing of 'Innuendo'. Steve Howe just happened to drop in one day to say hello to me. He had been recording at Mountain some ten years before with the group Yes. As soon as he popped his head round the door Freddie recognized him and said, 'Come on in and play some guitar!' He had no guitar with him so he used Brian's Dan Armstrong acoustic guitar with a direct output and tone control. Brian played the rhythm guitar and then echoed the solo afterwards on the Red Special."

- David Richards - 2001

David Richards (1956 – 20 December 2013) record producer in Montreux, Switzerland. He has engineered and co-produced many albums by Queen, David Bowie and several other bands.

🔸American Film and Video Festival 1992 'Intuendo' song Golden Camera Award (annual German film and television award, awarded by the Funke Mediengruppe)

📸 Inner Sleeve 'Innuendo' album

by Angela Lumley

👉 'Innuendo: released February 4th, 1991

Reached no 1, chart for 37 weeks

Achieved Platinum status

[brickcentral]

🤩 ARTIST SPOTLIGHT: jcmimoso Hello everyone! It's time to direct the spotlight toward our community members, and today we will get to know better jcmimoso!

"Hello fellow LEGO photographers, my name is Juan Carlos Mimoso. I'm from Spain and I grew up in the 75-80s. When I was a child I never had access to LEGO, due to economic reasons and poor distribution in my area. On the other hand, I did play with Playmobil and also with Exin Castillos bricks, with which I built spectacular castles.

I am currently a Doctor in Primary Care in a health center, and when in 2020 we suffered the COVID-19 pandemic and forced confinement, I continued working. I changed my work in the clinic for work at home and in the clinic, with no limit on hours and with the uncertainty and feeling of not being able to offer everything my patients needed. That caused me a lot of added stress. I had always liked photography, landscapes, macro, etc... and I relaxed by walking to see the world with photographic eyes. Instead, now I found that I was confined and unable to create new content.

My son had a couple of LEGO minifigures and a small set, and I thought it was cool to take a photo with an interesting background and post it on Instagram. And since then, I have been hooked on toy photography. I have seen that there are many colleagues spread around the world, and communities like Brickcentral, where tricks and ways to take the final photo are freely shared.

I took almost all of the photos with an old second-hand Fujifilm X-E2 mirrorless and the little Fujinon 27/2.8 pancake lens with a +2 or +4 close-up filter attached. I like that combination because it is very small and portable. A couple of years ago I added the Fujifilm X-H1 because, although it is a little bigger, it has a flip-up screen, which makes it much easier for me to make low compositions without having to move the whole equipment to check the focus. This year I bought a 1:2 macro (Fujinon 60/2.4) and so far I like the results, although due to work and family issues I haven't been able to take many photos. I hope that changes in a couple of weeks.

My workspace is typically my desk. I use the PC monitor as a background, or if it's a building without any background at all, and I place everything on heavy, thick medicine books so I can use my tabletop tripod at the right height. For lighting I use LED spotlights (Ulanzi VL49 and Lumecube Air), although I have also sometimes taken photos with matchstick lighting.

My compositions are not very large because as soon as I finish the session I have to put away everything that is on the desk so that I can use it to process the result. I usually take several shots with different lighting, aperture and sometimes even stacking photos to give more depth, although I never usually use the whole stack, but only just enough so that the background does not look too sharp. Later I choose the shot I like the most in Lightroom and complete it with Photoshop for basic retouching such as cloning, filters, etc.

I mainly use LEGO minifigures from various series (Marvel, DC, Ninjago…), although you can also see some Playmobil and Star Wars figures. The main type of photography I do is usually related to medieval, fantasy, sword and sorcery environments, among others.

In my posts you can see that I use extensively the Barbarian (series 11) and Viking (series 20) minifigures. I think it's because they don't usually require much post-processing, but also because they remind me of the 'Conan the Barbarian' comics I used to read when I was a kid. It's my humble way of paying a little homage to great artists who have drawn the Cimmerian since the 70s and who bring back so many memories. I recently acquired the Red-Haired Barbarian minifigure (series 25), which I'm sure will co-star in future photos. In fact, the photo I'm showing you today is the first one I've used it for.

Fortunately, over the years, I saved some Exin pieces, and along with others I've gotten lately, I use them extensively in my creations to mix LEGO with Exin Castles and get a more realistic environment. To this I usually mix all kinds of rocks, sand, grasses and other accessories so that it integrates well with the sword and sorcery atmosphere that I usually pursue in my publications. For inspiration I use old comics, game or movie sequences, and anything I see that fits well with my possibilities and knowledge. I have notebooks full of ideas written down for a better occasion, which doesn't always come. I learn a lot from other fellow toy photographers and I'm always looking for new ways to tell the little stories in my photos.

"

Thank you for accepting our invitation and let the community knows you better!

If you want some insights on the exclusive picture and for a better view of the others, head to our blog at https://brickentral.net/.

- @theaphol, Community Outreach Manager

[blushcoloreddreams]

17 ways to add small smiles in your life

Hello my friend!

For the past year I’ve had a pretty busy and I’ll dare say boring routine with not a lot of time for great adventures. So I think that the best way to not feel overwhelmed, burnt out or whenever I begin struggling in life, I always begin looking for ways to infuse more joy and smiles into my life. As I've pondered this issue, I've come to believe that the joy in our lives can be greatly enhanced by something that I like to call "Small Smiles."

Small smiles are different from the ones that come from seeing a long lost friend, winning a competition, or achieving our goals. Small smiles aren't extremely memorable or life-changing, but they DO matter.

Small smiles arrive when you have a good hair day, or when you get a small discount on your regular coffeeshop order. These smiles aren't momentous or incredible, but they DO add to the overall joy of life.

Today, I wanted to write our list about all the ways we can begin adding more "small smiles" to our days

1. Wear your favorite smell

This is one of my FAVORITE life hacks ever. Apply a small amount of Vaseline or petroleum jelly to your wrists, and spray the area with your favorite scent. As you go about your day, take a minute to pause and take a sniff of your favorite smell. It will ALWAYS make you happy.

Also, don't be ashamed of the smell you choose! I always have a good dash of "flowebomb" or “miss Dior” on my body, even though people seem them as basic / overused perfumes but I believe they are classics for a reason.

2. Enjoy the sky

I know this one sounds really weird, but bear with me. So, a fun fact about me is that one of favorite "feature" of Creation is the sky. I cannot get enough of looking at the clouds, stars, the moon, sunrises, sunsets, or chunky and thunderous rain clouds.

I think all humans need to take time to reconnect with nature: it's good to be reminded of how tiny we are, and how gorgeous the world is. So maybe your version of "enjoying the sky" is actually taking a walk by a river or buying a bouquet of flowers. Whatever it is, just take some time to get in touch with the world.

3. Dream about your FUTURE

Whenever I think about the names of my nonexistent future children, or the places I want to travel, I can't help but smile. It can be unhealthy to live exclusively in the future, BUT, a nice dreaming session can be truly uplifting. Dreaming about the future gives us hope, excitement, and even a little bit of motivation. Take time to dream, no matter how crazy the dream is

4. Wear your FAVORITE outfit

Alright friends, this is pretty obvious, but wearing our favorite clothing will often make us smile! Do you remember when you were a kid, and your mom could NOT stop you from wearing the same pink dress every day for a week? Well, even though we're adults, it can still be whimsical and fun to have a "favorite" outfit. Don't worry about it being stylish or trendy: just make sure you feel happy in it.

5. Sit on the floor and play with your dog... or cat... chinchilla… or fish? *

Okay, maybe I'm just really spoiled because every night while chilling in my bed my cat will come for snuggles, every time I get anywhere close to him. think, even just passing to get a cup of water , my cat begins to heads towards me and ask for some affectionl. He’s just so awesome and excited every time I'm showing signs of "play."

Whenever I need some joy, I plop down on the ground and pet him a bit or I’ll play with some wand to help him play hunt. I would highly recommend that if you have a pet, or you know someone who has a pet, take time to enjoy those amazing emotional and mental benefits.

6. Send a meme to your "person"

I have a friend who routinely sends me memes, just to reach out and connect. It ALWAYS brings a small smile to my face. So, instead of waiting around for other people to send you memes, try sending some to your friends, significant other, or sister. Enjoy all the guaranteed small smiles to come.

7 Make small talk with a cashier

Even when I'm grumpy, it can be really life-giving to chat with people when I'm going about my errands. Avoiding social interactions always makes me grumpier. A small chat, even about the weather can truly bring a small smile to our face.

8. Clean your kitchen

It wouldn't be a one of my posts without a call to clean our kitchens! Whenever I look down at an empty sink, I can't help but feel a small smile coming up on my face. Firstly, it's very freeing to get the chores done, but secondly, it always makes me feel like I've accomplished something with my life!

Indulging in my routines and enjoying the mundanity of life always makes me smile. It's important to realize that funny, happy, or sweet things aren't the only things that will make us smile. Accomplishing things and putting things into order will ALSO make us smile

9. Be bold in ONE area

This one will be different for everyone. I truly think that many of us are constantly walking around with something on our minds that we're avoiding. Today, I encourage you to take a step towards boldness in that area: for me, this often means dealing with a stack of papers, or cleaning out my DM's.

Being bold doesn't only apply to kissing someone, standing up for yourself, or asking for a promotion: it applies to the boring parts of life too. Take charge, be bold, and enjoy the smiles.

10. Change your phone background

A good phone clean-out does WONDERS for the soul. Now, I need to do this more than anyone... I have the bad habit of letting old unnecessary photos and screen shots pile up and you're talking to "Miss 30 unopened chats ." But in the meantime, I think it can be really good to just switch up our phone backgrounds to something that will give us a small smile.

For awhile, my phone background was a photo of a rococo castle that I liked.. It was kind of busy and nerdy looking, but honestly, we can't help what makes us smile!

11. Be weird

I was a really weird kid: I was completely socially aware, BUT I had a strange sense of humor and I had pretty odd interests like deep sea animals and geishas. I truly feel like that childhood weirdness lingers just beneath the surface of my personality.

There is just something about life that is so absolutely WEIRD to me. Seriously, Life is wacky. It's unpredictable, crazy, and weird. I say that we embrace this weirdness, and indulge our unique qualities and unpredictable traits. Don't spend your life trying to fit in: embrace the weird, and enjoy the small smiles that follow.

12. Switch up your commute

I think it's easy to get stuck in our routines. I think life can feel boring and mundane when we fail to seek out adventure and explore the world right in front of us. Maybe tomorrow, on the way home, try to take the long way, or stop to get a coffee. Take a different way home and try to mix up your routine. Even a small glimpse of something new can be enough to ignite a small smile.

13. Go for a walk

I know, I know... EVERY blog suggests this. But I have to say friend, if everyone is giving this advice, it might be because it's THE best advice. Take a page from Elizabeth Bennett's book (LOL) and learn to take a walk. I do this when I need to get my heart pumping, and it ALWAYS makes me smile. It's just nice to get moving and go on an adventure.

14. Wrap up in a HUGE blanket

Specially in the colder months or just a rainy day, I seriously think that a good "cocoon session" is something that everyone needs to do once in a while. There's something so comforting and calming about wrapping up in cozy blanket. Maybe it takes us all back to the comfort of the womb LOL.

Smiles can happen during moments of connection, accomplishment, and peace, and cocooning DEFINITELY helps us achieve peace. Bonus points? Add a cup of tea, coffee or hot chocolate

15. Spend time baking

Baking brings confidence, AND sugar highs. It is the perfect combination to help us achieve the small smile. Besides, it’s something fun to do with friends and family.

16. Embrace it when "things go wrong"

I have a loooooooooot of weaknesses. I do. I'm fearful, needy, lazy, and so much more. BUT, I do have one thing going for me: I have always been able to embrace the mistakes in life. Whenever something doesn't work out, I always like to say that it's because it "wasn't meant to be." I think I find a lot of joy and peace in the idea that everything is under control and that God is workin on my behalf, even when things go wrong.

Embracing the weird is just like embracing the mistakes. I think that when we flip trouble on its head, we can really begin to enjoy life and smile

17. Sing out loud

This is my final piece of advice: I really find a lot of joy in the act of singing loudly in my car to old songs. There's something very positive about releasing our voices and emotions. Even the nostalgia of music from our youth can really bring about a lot of smiles! So yes, please blast that T-Swift, and sing OUT LOUD!

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 8: Blackened Water (Part 1)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: graphic descriptions of migraines, mention of sleeplessness/loss of appetite, self-sacrifice (if ya squint), angst, fluff, banter, descriptions of violence.

Summary: It had been two weeks since you arrived on Coruscant when The Chosen One invited you to join him in an impromptu Starfighter piloting session. After reminiscing about the weeks prior, you, Anakin, Ahsoka, and R2-D2 decide to transform the lesson into a game. However, you are quick to learn that pushing this ship to its limit was sure to have unintended complications.

Song Inspo: Migraine — Twenty One Pilots

Words: 6k

A/n: Looks like things are about to get complicated... please comment/pm if you'd like to be on the Taglist! And lmk your thoughts on this chapter :)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

So much like the moon, we show the world only one and veil our many faces, even from the sun — Jason Versey

“It’s not that I don’t want to learn how to pilot a Starfighter, I’m just not sure if I want to learn from you.”

You spoke forcefully into the comlink headset, its rounded, copper microphone hovering inches from quarrelsome lips. You were currently situated in a Republic Starfighter’s Co-Pilot Forward Gunner’s cockpit, and its rushing drone was creating a deafening habitat that drove you to raise your voice had you any hope of communicating with Anakin, Ahsoka, or Anakin’s droid companion R2-D2 at any point during this flight. Still, the boundless rush failed to block you from continuing your exploration of the fighter’s gunnery controls, spelled out by the glaring interactive screen nestled in the jutted crook to your right.

“I’ll have you know that I’m the best pilot the Jedi have, if not, the Galaxy,” Anakin defended, his mechanically muffled voice crackling into your earpiece while he directed the fighter’s acceleration around Coruscant’s curvature.

You flexed a doubtful brow at his cockiness, despite his inability to see you from the main pilot’s cockpit stationed a meter ahead, just before the bird’s nose.

“Weren’t you the one who crash-landed that shuttle on Hoth in the first place?” You challenged.

“They’ve got you there,” Ahsoka piped up, the young voice spluttering through your headset from her perch in the tail gunner’s pit directly behind.

“That wasn’t my fault,” he huffed.

You shook your head at the exchange, levity conquering facial muscles that usually endured some semblance of placidity as you carried on with your analysis of the ship’s offensive capabilities.

In the seconds that followed, a brief silence unfolded across the fighter’s private comms channel, though that didn’t deter you from continuing to tap away at the informative screen just below your fingertips. Needless to say, despite focusing your mind on canons and proton torpedo launcher specifications, the prolonged lull in conversation streamlined your thoughts into deeper ruminations as your evolving muscle memory assumed control.

It had been nearly two weeks since your arrival on Coruscant, and you were finding that you had a knack for acclimating quickly to the drastically contrasting environment. The warmer weather, busier urban environment, and abundance of Jedi-specific resources were quite the staggering changes from your meager, solitary existence among boundless blizzards and bloodthirsty beasts.

So, it didn’t take much convincing to welcome the transition with open arms.

You were still settling in, so, rationally, you recognized that you weren’t as versed in the Jedi Temple’s daily happenings as its more veteran residents. However, from the behavior you observed alone, you could still tell that time dragged far more gradually than the status quo, even when compared to the beginning few days of your arrival.

At first, you noticed that meetings among the Jedi Council had become less frequent. There was little to discuss while they awaited news from Temple technicians who, sector-by-sector, continued their analysis of each minutia of the Jedi’s expansive communications array. And when they did convene, it was usually due to handfuls of temporarily visiting clones, dispatched from their units to deliver on-the-ground intelligence directly to assigned generals who would then liaise any necessary information to the Council for further instructions.

Generals, you sighed inwardly. The taste of that word being used to describe Jedi was still akin to the tangy expiration of blue milk. A sign of the times, you supposed. So, again, you pushed that thought away.

You continued your recollection, even harking back to that strange, incongruous feeling that overcame your senses when you spotted your first set of clones. Rationally, you knew what to expect. Beings that looked exactly like each other in most, if not every conceivable way. Though, despite that assumption, you’d found that even in the briefest of interactions, these clones seemed to be some of the most diverse and spirited individuals you’d ever met.

Sure, you hadn’t chanced upon that many beings in your lifetime. But of the few troopers you did encounter, they certainly stood in stark contrast against that backdrop of Coruscanti civilians and Jedi from your recent past.

They were dedicated to their craft and their generals, drove into the depths of battle without the protection of the Force, and supported each other like true brothers in arms.

And with all your being, you commended that.

Maybe that’s why you were looking forward to meeting more of their comrades and discovering how their relationship with the Jedi Order came to be. You could only learn so much from those few, fleeting conversations in a passing walkway. Especially because their presence was always so short-lived.

Once a new directive was assigned by the Council, the visiting batches were soon whisked away, once again into the strange, galaxy-wide relay race in the name of secure communications while the Council melted back into their brief slumber. You supposed it was the natural consequence of the Republic Army’s temporary reliance on snail mail, but it was all still so strange nonetheless.

You had to admit, though, that things had begun to pick up in the last week. You remembered hearing passively from a congregation of Masters moving through a large hall one afternoon, that a smattering of Jedi had been sent out alongside the most recent collection of clone drop-ins. Some of those named individuals returned after a few days, having spotted them in the Archives, a refractory, or even conversing with Master Windu.

But the ones you didn’t see again?

You could only assume that they were continuing to traverse the Galaxy on some unknown mission in the name of peace.

But word of mouth was not your only source of information regarding the curbed release of Jedi back to the Front. You had, at times, happened to see it for yourself. Like just the other day, when passing by one of the Temple’s main hangars on the way to another sparring session with Anakin. Just by chance, out of the corner of your eye, you’d caught a pair of Jedi preparing to depart alone. There was no clone in sight by their powered-up Nu-class attack shuttle, red and white markings trailing its spine as it gaily awaited the two passengers conversing lowly at the bottom of the boarding ramp. You remembered it was a duo of black-robbed, green-tinted Mirialans— Master and Padawan, their relative ages suggested. Off to another untold destination, but, this time, without a crew of troopers.

You recalled thinking at that moment: maybe the Council has grown more agreeable with the concept of dispatching Jedi alone to temporary assignments?

Then again, their sudden departure might have had more to do with the need to immediately transmit vital information to a distant battalion than anything else.

Either way, it was all a guess. You had learned fairly quickly in your time at the Temple that The Council considered most wartime information as need-to-know. Even Master Windu, in the few times you’d met with him, was reticent to share any news with you that didn’t directly concern your being.

At any rate, those instances of strategic departures were rare, leaving many Jedi to find a way to occupy themselves during this involuntary downtime.

You, personally, were utilizing this time the best way you could— as an opportunity to address the persistent migraines that’d been plaguing you for the past week and a half.

Even in the cockpit of a Starfighter, thousands of kilometers away from Coruscant’s golden inscriptions, you could still recall it all so perfectly.

They would start off imperceptibly stunted, pecking away at your senses so gently that you’d barely notice their presence until the draining aches inflamed into pounding thumps deep at the core of your brainstem.

The worst part was that you never knew when they were going to strike next. It was just all so…sporadic.

They’d crawl into your sinuses during early afternoon drills, nibbling at your attention mere minutes into attempting a particularly complicated, defensive acrobatic which would accordingly backfire from the ordeal’s impetuosity. Other times, it was in the evening, usually erupting in your skull halfway through supper, and, often, smack dab in the middle of a sentence aimed at one of the three Jedi who’d whisked you away from Hoth weeks ago.

Naturally, regardless of your hope to learn more about The Chosen One, his former Master, and Padawan during these times, this strange affliction’s consequences would routinely cut such moments short. The second that distinctive, rising thunder would rumble, you were pressed to conjure up some excuse to retire early, leaving most of your plain meal uneaten from the unexpected loss of appetite in each premature retreat to your quarters.

In addition to coping with the persistently tugging weights chained to the back of your eyeballs, you were, to the best of your ability, trying to keep its effects as discreet as possible. You’d keep your signature muted and expression neutral as the warning signs of an impending strike encroached on your senses, removing yourself from whichever training, social, or study activity may have fanned its flames.

But despite it all, these considerations were not enough to deter the occasional wisp of care that would flutter from Ahsoka’s brows following your early conclusion of a joint study session. Or the flare of worry that would spurt behind Anakin’s fiery eyes after you ended a spar prematurely, hand cradling your forehead the moment you’d retreated from his line of vision.

Your efforts to obscure any reflection of pain especially did little to dissuade the concern that rippled across Obi-Wan’s features last night, when in the middle of a teasing escapade with Anakin, your brilliant grin faltered into a thin, immutable line as a sudden spear to the base of your skull compelled you to briskly break off from the group before the impartial expression you strained to support wavered.

Discerningly, you understood that despite your efforts, the three of them knew something was transpiring. Still, you were confident enough that your exercise in representing these headaches as sudden fatigue would present these moments as too bland to warrant serious discussion.

You wanted, no, needed to keep any sense of severity to a minimum. You’d spent the last decade alone on a lethal, ice planet, your entire life being the sum experience of staring down danger’s sharpest teeth and shaving them blunt by yourself. All in all, you’d certainly dealt with threats far greater than the danger of a persistent set of migraines, you joked inwardly. So you knew that, with time, you’d figure out how to trim away this roadblock too.

And without involving The Chosen One.

You thought back to your first working theory of the issue, that your body was still adapting to its changed environment. Even though you felt energized by this new planet’s radiant sunlight, the heat could have still affected you more than you first realized. But even with this, you understood that only time would tell.

In the interim, you found it unnecessary to worry your Jedi acquaintances. They had no need for knowledge of your sleepless nights, fueled by mushrooming, stings bursting behind your forehead. Shattering you awake in a puddle of strenuous sweat and breathless utterances that disheveled your sheets.

“Just go away already,” you huffed one early morning.

You were The Guardian after all. Tasked with protecting The Chosen One. Roping in others to aid you in your own, comparably minuscule toils would have stood in quiet opposition to your title’s purpose.

Yes. You were convinced. You’d find a solution some other way.

Anyways, addressing your mind’s inner facets was only a small strand in the meadow of free time that had laid at your fingertips. You also took an appreciable advantage of the interim to explore your new home— The Jedi Temple.

You recalled finding it somewhat overwhelming, the Temple’s colossal model, constructed piece-by-piece over thousands of years with the building blocks of Jedi evolution and spirituality. But, in spite of its sweeping presence, you felt uninhibited to tour each nook and cranny like the labyrinth it was.

You’d encountered many Jedi this way, all in various training dojos, halls, gardens, and other, more secluded, areas as they too took advantage of the passing days to train, meditate, or study. It was actually how you, twice, inadvertently ran into Anakin and Ahsoka, during these cursory, investigative stints. Once, while they were in the midst of a spar, and the other, amid one of Anakin’s on-the-fly lessons about the reality of the battlefield.

Sitting here in this rumbling, Starfighter’s primary gunner cockpit, you had to admit that you were really delighted when you saw them like this. Working as Master and Padawan in their own, unique way. It proved to you that Anakin was taking his Mastership more seriously.

You remembered how he’d expressed to you his hesitancy with being assigned a Padawan last week as the two of you strolled down one of the Temple’s many walkways in search of an empty training room. Though you were not surprised, as it was something that you already learned from Obi-Wan, who had complained about this very issue to you over one of your evening meals. A plate of hawk-bat eggs, if you recalled correctly. He cited to you the young Jedi’s reluctance to attend several of Ahsoka’s training remote sessions, which, according to Master Kenobi, was an important, reoccurring exercise prescribed to all Padawans.

Separately, you’d happened to already know how the Jedi Order historically drove responsibility into its members. It was not just via off-world missions or Knighthood trials, but through the combined experience of guiding the young with one’s own expertise. Qui-Gon often mentioned how his mentorship years morphed him into the wise and capable man you’d known him to be. And you didn’t believe either that Anakin was immune to such windows into maturity.

So, at that moment, with the protesting, chestnut-haired Jedi strolling inches from your side, you were sure to remind the irresolute man that they wouldn’t have given him that duty had they not believed him to be ready.

“Now you’re starting to sound like Obi-Wan.” He huffed, crossing his arms as you both continued your brisk saunter. “I’m just not meant to have a Padawan!”

You eyed the insistent Jedi soberly. “Anakin, I’ll tell you one thing. For someone who I know hopes to grow as a Jedi, you certainly seem to tie your own feet together when the perfect opportunities to do so present themselves.”

That conversation must’ve knocked a bolt loose in that rigid mind of his, you supposed, after seeing with your own eyes his efforts to do more as her Master in the days that followed.

And that included today. In this bulky, ARC-170 Starfighter. The inspiration for Anakin’s decision to kill two buzzbirds with one stone.

After admitting to your limited, hands-on piloting experience over that same dinner you’d ended early the night before, Anakin posed the brilliant idea of teaching you himself. A proposition you’d have had better luck turning down had he not already been planning to take Ahsoka out into the exosphere to deliver his own set of ad-hoc tutorials.

If you could even call it that.

According to him, all he had to do was reserve a different Starfighter class and the three of you would be good to go. So, you accepted, hoping all the way up until you entered the secondary cockpit that maybe Anakin had a preplanned lesson that wouldn’t end in infamy.

That was, of course, until the actual flying started.

Refocusing your attention to continue inspecting the gunner controls to your right, you soon found greater ease in probing the laser canons’ maneuverability with time. In fact, you were able to quite quickly understand this new model’s updated variations, and how those tied into its modernized combative functions. This was most transparent earlier at the flight’s start, when, after a short brief from Anakin, you were comfortable enough to trigger the fighter’s new S-foil wing system, a state-of-the-art feature which supposedly allowed for greater heat dispersion between the ship’s engines and canons in high-speed situations.

Yes, you lacked the heuristic flying and gunner skills, but your studies on Hoth were not for naught. You had long ago memorized the user-based functionalities of older starships. Its parts, controls, functions, and capabilities, employing your own shelter as a dissectible specimen to fuel your understanding. So, while you didn’t have Anakin’s piloting experience or dexterity, you were still rather capable of exercising that garnered knowledge to pick up parallel operations fairly quickly.

It was also why, in reaching hour two of Anakin’s lesson, his sporadic, step-by-step sputterings of how and when he engaged elementary control functions did little to quench your parched alacrity.

So, you broke the silence.

“So…when are the gunners gonna become pilots?” You asked, both on your and Ahsoka’s behalf.

“You think you’re ready to take the reins?” Anakin raised, a hint of playfulness echoing behind the occasional pop of the radioed voice in your ear.

You smirked. “Only one way to find out.”

Just as you finished, a small, yellow window blinked open at the top of your screen. You briskly scanned it, recognizing the primary controls transfer confirmation request before gingerly tapping accept.

In half a second, the flight computer once shrouded in darkness directly in front of you flickered to life. It began by displaying various levels of system readiness in navy blue text on the left. Shield artillery, forward and aft stability, among others. On the opposite side shone the fighter’s coordinate plane, a graphed image depicting the ship’s location based on immediate surroundings that were divided by orange, sectional rings.

They all buzzed to life in conjunction with a control panel of glowing, kaleidoscopic buttons, switches, and several familiar levers, their color-coded rings now steadily blinking a range of unnatural reds, blues, and yellows by your fingertips.

“Let’s see what you got,” Anakin crackled through.

You hummed in concentration while wrapping a set of fingers around the navigation lever, feeling its give as you put your other hand to work adjusting the bird’s speed parameters on the animated control panel. Once the specifications were fixed, you lifted your head back toward the speckled darkness of space, gently nudging the lever forward to dip the fighter.

And you sensed the change immediately.

The modest pressure of your back suddenly tugging to the rear support infused your fingertips with dawning excitement. You pulled the lever toward you with greater confidence now in the directional shift, sensing the variation in the fighter’s ascent while absorbing your first taste of the craft’s feel, as well as its movement’s interaction with the Force.

Before long, your certainty swelled further, stirring you to twist the rapidly scaling fighter into a backward loop while listening to the metal grunt merrily around you.

Despite swiftly finishing that circle, you were reticent to give the bird a moment to rest. Instead, you directed the Starfighter to climb once more, adjusting the panel controls for a hammerhead descent. Even now, in this rapid ascent, you body still prickled at the fighter’s consistency with the imputed speed adjustments as you neared the desired pivot point.

Then, you felt it.

That minute weightlessness that commanded you to yank the navigational lever to the right, bringing the ship into another sharp, controlled dive for a few seconds before leveling it off into a normal flight pattern.

“Not bad,” Anakin began. “But those little tricks aren’t gonna do much good on the battlefield.”

“It’s not like we have any battle droids for target practice,” Ahsoka commented. “Or anything to train in defending against.”

She had a point, you considered inwardly.

But if your time on a deserted planet taught you anything, it was that even the most resourceless locales could be molded into an advantage.

“And isn’t this a clone ship?” She continued.

You glanced around at your surroundings beyond the compact cockpit as their conversation reigned unabated, hoping to catch sight of anything that could be put to use as you stuck to the fighter’s default flight path programmed to circulate Coruscant’s outer edge.

“Yeah,” Anakin irritatedly drew. “But it was the only model that could fit three beings. It’s similar enough to the Delta-7s anyways.”

A sudden, protesting flurry of high-pitched, sundry beeps sloped in pitch from your headset, but still failed to draw your preoccupied glare away from its scan of the region.

Though it did precipitate a sigh in the blue-eyed Jedi

“Sorry, Artoo. Three beings, and a droid.”

Then, you spotted it.

A few hundred kilometers to your right floated a scattered array of tiny meteors, traveling in an undefined shape at an imperceptible speed. Far enough away from Coruscant to avoid accidental atmospheric entry, and small enough to avoid causing any real damage to a fighter with as heavy shielding as this one.

“I may have a solution to that,” you voiced while veering the Starfighter’s nose toward the crumbly assemblage of hickory brown space rocks.

“Let’s hear it!” Ahsoka eagerly exclaimed, having had little else to do but listen to Anakin’s instructions in the rear gunner pod for the last few hours.

“You see that up ahead?” You asked, nodding to the nonspecific structure before remembering that your companions couldn’t see you.

“The meteors?” Anakin questioned.

You cognitively hummed, the formation expanding as the fighter quickly neared its destination.

“Nope,” you popped. “That, is an enemy starship.” You asserted. “Anakin, how’s your object manipulation?”

He scoffed. “Do you even need to ask?”

“Even in space?” You lightly teased, bringing the bird in to perpetually circumnavigate the ruble consortium.

“Especially in space.”

Somehow, you could almost taste his grin through your rumbling headset.

“I’m holding you to that,” you quipped, a small smile slipping by your lips.

Without skipping a beat, you leaned your head back to address Ahsoka. “Master Skywalker here is gonna be our intrepid, enemy gunner.”

You gesticulated toward the backdrop. “These rocks are his ammo. I’ll be the primary pilot, and, Ahsoka, you’re my gunner. Oh! And Artoo?”

You glanced up at the droid’s blue and white head, peeking out from his secured cavity in the center of a divider wall that separated you and Ahsoka.

“Do try to keep Anakin from accidentally destroying our way home.”

The droid buzzed in a rising chime of inspirited affirmation as his head danced into a spin.

“Don’t worry, Artoo,” Ahsoka reassured while the air of your cabin flooded with the fizzing whir of her dorsal canon elevating. “Silvey and I will make sure you don’t have much work to do.”

“It seems I must teach you a lesson in speaking too soon, my young Padawan,” Anakin sassed.

“Alright,” you interjected, keeping an eye on the meteor cluster to your left. “The battle starts now.”

“Let’s have it.”

Just as those final words fluttered from your dried lips, a fluctuation in the hovering mass caught your eye. You centered your vision, catching a knot of nearly twenty rocks assembling into a spearhead formation near the crowd’s outer rim. That was, before, without notice, those jagged rocks sharply launched toward the fighter’s closest flank.

“Hold on!” You called out instinctively before bringing the bird down into a sudden plunge.

The whizzing meteor configuration rushed after the Starfighter’s tail, giving Ahsoka the prime latitude to start shooting down the shard-like projectiles with the zapping hiss of her maneuverable canon.

While Anakin’s Padawan sustained her calculated assault on the cluster’s center bludgeoners, you, however, were beginning to sense a hairsplitting breakaway in their diving formation. Intending to investigate this further, you glanced at the coordinate plane to the right of your screen. There, you soon spotted two chaotic bundles of flashing red dots, rapidly approaching either wing at a speed that doubled their blinking rate.

This discovery was, naturally, followed by the occasional, yet abruptly swelling, clangs of eluding debris that bounced off the bird’s aft. Thankfully, Artoo was at the ready, already working to readjust the deflector shields to the rear as he emitted an arrangement of disapproving, bellowed beeps.

“I’m doing my best, Artoo!” Ahsoka droned.

You, on the other hand, were keeping careful attention on those threatening, crimson flecks. So much so, that your grip on the throttle mindlessly tightened as they relentlessly inched and inched ever so closer.

But you waited, relaying their distance internally from the screen’s navigation display as you formulated a plan on the fly.

100 meters…50 meters…15 meters.

This should work.

You wrenched the lever to the right, hard, bringing the fighter into a sudden tilt. The wings parked at 12 and 6 o’clock as the rocks once speedily approaching each end blindly whizzed over your head and by the ship’s belly.

You paused here for only a moment, permitting the last pebble to zoom past before righting the fighter.

Now, having brought the environment back into a gradual equilibrium, you’d believed the fore was secure enough for you to address the swelling pummeling you were receiving from behind. So you stretched your neck back, expecting to momentarily check in with Ahsoka’s progress.

But in that ever so brief twist away from the viewport, you just as suddenly sensed some whirlwind convergence in the path of the bird’s nose.

Having spun around, eyes searching, you were soon able to abruptly spy those same, once-dodged clusters presently returning with newfound vengeance.

“Anakin…” you chided, taking the fighter into another evading dip. “Last time I checked, laser bolts can’t redirect themselves.”

“These are…special laser bolts,” The Chosen One brightly justified as his dual-speared formations endured an unforgiving swoop and approach.

You huffed, once more returning to the panel to readjust the speed parameters before taking the ship up again in hopes of shaking these ‘Silvey-seeking lasers.’

The next twenty or so minutes of this little, spontaneous exercise protracted more of the same. Ahsoka primarily handled all the aft attacks. And any time a knot of projectiles came whistling toward the fighter’s flanks or fore, you retained a calculated quickness in twisting, looping, or diving away to elude the enemy.

You did this especially well when, at some point, Anakin guided his mineral minions into another full-frontal attack. With minimal latency, you rolled the ship into a small curve, swiftly pointing its tail at the hastily advancing masses so that Ahsoka could take over, all in an effort to tighten these battle-necessary skills.

It was all fun and games, of course, until Artoo erupted into a fit of jangling chirps, which you altogether roughly interpreted as a plea to pause.

It was in those following moments that, you too, started to notice the crater-like burrows that speckled the ship’s hull and nose, its cherry red, warpaint bands unreasonably chipped, and its canon arms dented.

And you could only imagine what the aft looked like.

It was clear that the three of you had certainly given this Starfighter a thorough beating.

“Sorry buddy,” you replied while gradually levying the ship to a standstill.

You assumed Anakin had also received the memo as the previously merciless bombardment of space debris clusters stalled like sleeping statues around you, blanketing back into the natural confines of the surrounding white-speckled vacuum.

“Guess the drill got away from us,” you continued, bringing up the command controls transfer menu on your screen before programming it to relay all functions to the main cockpit.

You endured in the same breath, powering down the canon engines with a deflated huff. “If you need any help with the repairs, my hands are yours.”

No matter his noticeable frustrations, the astromech must have still appreciated the offer as your headset swiftly resounded with spirited whistles of gratitude.

“Okay,” Anakin uttered, the secondary pilot screen, panel, and levers before you dimming back into the blackness of your cabin with a depleted drone as he accepted the changeover. “One more thing I want to try before we rotate positions.”

Your attentiveness toward Skywalker’s words was short-lived, however, as an unexpected, shrill blare resounded throughout your suffocating compartment.

“Um,” Ahsoka emitted.

Instinctively, you glanced at the single active interface to your right, only to register a flashing red warning plastered above the primary gunner controls. Then, just seconds into your efforts to detect the source, a female voice spilled into the exposed space, parroting the same admonition flashing before your eyes from interior speakers.

“Uh, Anakin?” You articulated, staring at the now, decidedly visible safety warning. “Why are you suppressing the inertial dampeners?”

“I want to test the terminal rotational velocity of this new model before it’s dispatched to my battalion,” he nonchalantly explained.

You peeked down at his cockpit, registering the ever-shifting essence of the back of his head as he seemingly prepped the ship for whatever stunt was next on the agenda.

“Isn’t that what the piloting screen’s for?” Ahsoka challenged. “To give you those numbers?”

“Yes,” he muttered, annoyed. “But I can’t get a good feel for its real maneuverability with the dampeners at max.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna like this,” you breathed while the batting crimson glow of the ship’s safety system dragged on its incessant screech.

“Don’t worry,” Anakin cheered seconds before a thrumming, mechanical purr sounded from either side of the ship. “It’s perfectly safe.”

Your head swiveled toward the hums, enabling you to notice the wings’ X formation slowly collapse into a thicker, horizontal line with a metallic snap.

“I think the warning lady disagrees with you,” Ahsoka deadpanned while Artoo chirped in with jumbled blips of agreement.

You exhaled. “I’m gonna have to jump in on this bandwagon, too, Anakin.”

You reflexively gesticulated to your right.

“Closing the wings will burn us up.”

“Only if the canon engines are on, which you turned off,” he reminded. “Besides, having them open will drag our rotational speed.”

Realizing that his mind was made up, you relented, leaning back into your cushioned backrest as you folded your arms in a mix of apprehension and quiet protest.

Logically, you knew Anakin was a talented pilot. But in the short time you’d known him, he always seemed to be one switch away from a reckless decision that couldn’t be rescinded. You could only rely on the Force to warn you otherwise but, for now, you took comfort instead in mumbling one reoccurring thought aloud.

“I’m gonna regret this.”

“Okay, prepare yourselves,” the blue-eyed Jedi declared as you felt the uniform pull of a Starfighter in motion.

Anakin was not one to dally, you knew that too. But you were also not quite expecting the speed or suddenness with which he instantly accelerated the craft.

Mere meters into the flight, the chestnut-haired Jedi launched the fighter with the momentum of a passionate lightning bolt, driving your entire being to squash back as the sudden force partially flattened your skin and burrowed in between chapped lips and suddenly exposed gums. Your hands shot impulsively out to either side of the cramped cockpit, flattened palms shoving against both engine-warmed walls for some semblance of balance.

But it was no use. The thrill-seeking man continued to drive the bird to newly discovered, exponential speeds.

Mind briefly flickering, you recalled your other Jedi companion while trying to catch your breath. You could only imagine what poor Ahsoka was experiencing on the opposite side of the craft as she was thrust forward by the inverse velocity.

But evidently, none of these worries had crossed Anakin’s mind. Instead, you imagined his eyes’ were thinly focused on the speedometer as he sensed the pulverizing oppressions around him.

That was, you guessed, until he found a tempo that finally suited his rotational needs because just as promptly as he accelerated, the adrenaline-addicted man sharply jerked the Starfighter mid-race into a tight, unyielding roll.

The only word you could use to describe the sensation, was uncanny.

There was something about the way it dragged you from your awareness. The feeling of being simultaneously smashed together and ripped apart across every point of your body not only blurred your vision, but it seemed to draw you far enough away from your senses that you could barely feel the comforting touch of the Force. It was as if it flowed inches from your fingernails, but not close enough to wet them.

Still there, but just out of reach.

Instead, your entire experience centered on the raw rush of a repressive speed’s disconnected passions as the fighter’s rotations puckered.

Then, you felt a familiar twinge rap at your forehead’s center.

You tried to thrust it away, refocusing your attention on the feel of the increasingly searing metal under outstretched fingertips to ground yourself. But even as you did so, a new wave of clamoring throbs smacked you upside the head, blasting you into a new realm of haziness.

You knew the drill. An unpleasant, yet manageable headache like this one was sure to last a long while. The rest of the morning, perhaps, if recent history had any say. But they hadn’t prevented you from addressing more pressing matters. Like those involved with gunning a Starfighter.

Or surviving one of Anakin’s test flights.

At least, not up until this point.

By some means, the keen pulse that was now branching into your sinuses and across the bridge of your nose suddenly developed a more piercing vigor. Each jab increasingly resembled the perforations of a bayonet, as if some invisible force was repeatedly impaling your skull like a pirate digging for lost treasures. Time became relative while your entire dome felt like a massive, gaping wound, unlatched to a world of acidic fingernails that hungrily tunneled through the gash.

You retracted both arms from the cockpit’s flanks, allowing your body to writhe to the rhythms of spinning g-forces as you slammed each flattened palm against the sides of your head. While the agony deepened at a rate comparable to the twisting ship’s bolt, you pressed down on your sinuses, harshly, charged with the secret desire to squeeze out the pain with your brain marching inches behind if need be.

Just as rapidly, you could tell that you were reaching a breaking point in your silent fortitude. With the caliber at which this was worsening, you knew that, very soon, it was going to be too strenuous to keep your involuntary, disturbed vocalizations to a minimum. You couldn’t take it. It was too much.

You just needed it to stop.

You needed everything to stop.

“Stop…” you croaked weakly.

But it was too soft for the headset to register as the fighter continued its twirling trek with no acknowledgment from any passengers.

So you tried again, with just a tad more energy.

“Please, stop…”

Your depleted voice was washed away by the dogged bawl of the earsplitting siren which kept drenching your vision in cycles of cerise.

Another shattering knife ran through your skull with a burning fire that combatted that of the ship’s engines as it steadily milked your eyes for brimming tears.

You gasped.

“Anakin, stop!”

The Starfighter abruptly decelerated, steadily relaxing into a leveled state as the deadening drone of easing engines devolved into a bass grunt.

You welcomed the instantaneous airlessness that invaded your bones and softened your skin as the cabin depressurized. Somehow, in the seconds that followed, it had even given you a momentary burst of vitality, supplying a few seconds for you to reach out to Force’s boundless flow.

Yet, despite quickly intertwining yourself with its reassuring brush, the exquisite ache that racked your head was hardly tempered by the change of pace.

“My bad,” Anakin chuckled lightly. “Got carried away.”

There was nothing you could do to block the shaky breath that trembled past drained lips.

“Silvey?” Anakin questioned stiffly, having seemingly heard your pained exhale.

“What’s wrong?” Ahsoka intently inquired through a headset that truly felt light years away. “Did something happen?”

Out of barely-centered vision, you caught a bushy-haired shape in the main cockpit contort toward your form as a soft voice invaded your ears.

“Hey, are you…?”

“I think it’s time for Ahsoka to take my place,” you shoved out, gravelly voice nearly betraying you before you relented, resting your eyelids in a temporary rest.

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[zemkzone]

I don't normally vent, but... TLDR: I was mugged in a city, a country, where I am a foreigner and the supposed friends who were helping me told another friend I was acting "entitled" to their help. It was heavily implied I had to APOLOGIZE to them. AITA or not AITA? I now have much bigger trust issues than I had last week.

Long version:

I've been living in the UK for almost 2 years, and I went down to London on Friday for a break from a stressful work-week. The first night went well, dinner and a show, and I fell asleep at a decent enough time to wake up early on Saturday for 9:30AM yoga with, for lack of a better term, friends of a friend. It was a relatively nice morning, so I decided to take one of the buses instead of schlepping my way down to the Tube (which I still call the subway most days coz, can you blame the proverbial Yankee visiting King Charles' Court?). I got off the bus in the City, what they call the business area in London as a whole, I have been made to understand. Google Maps told me it was an easy walk from the bus stop to the hotel where the yoga class was, but there were several alley/side road closures where the app wanted me to go. I was still on a nice, wide sidewalk, with few cars on the street and few people around me too. I paused at what felt like a safe intersection on that wide sidewalk, right by a modern glass building with CCTV hanging off it and CCTVs on the crosswalk traffic lights a few meters away. I was as far from the roadside as possible, and out of precautionary habit, I had my back turned to the road a little to protect the phone I had out in my hand. I was texting those sort-of friends that I was a few minutes out, and trying to get Google Maps to reroute me.

Suddenly, a black glove appeared in front of my face and my phone was snatched away by what looked like a man in an electric blue puffer hoodie, riding a bicycle on the sidewalk. I tried to chase him, but between the coffee I had to let go of and the duffle bag on my shoulder, it was hopeless. He disappeared around the corner I had been considering walking along myself, and I was left to ask for help from the four passersby at the crosswalk. Two of them happened to be a father and daughter (Brits, but also just visitors in London). The father wrote down my exact location and the time so I could report it to the police. When I said I had friends at a nearby hotel, he and his daughter helped me find my way to it. They didn't have to walk me in, but they did. "We'll wait here," he said at the top of an escalator, "and wait for you to give us a thumbs up if the receptionist has located your friends". The receptionist did, I signaled the two perfect strangers that all was well, and we waved goodbye as they headed off to continue their day.

What followed should have been an exercise in practicality. The boyfriend of one of those sort-of friends (let's call him M) and a hotel staffer helped me contact the police and cancel my debit card (which had been in my snatched cellphone's case). Two officers came to the hotel so I could give them my statement, etc. All the while, M sat with me, updating his girlfriend and the others who still continued on with their yoga session. The police asked me to take them to the spot where the crime occurred. M was still with me, and as we walked out of the hotel, his girlfriend (T) and more people than I expected (I'd only though I was meeting T and another friend I'll call W) came out to join us. I hadn't realized that a whole hour had passed since I'd arrived at the hotel. Their yoga session was over.

At that point, I was torn between (1) feeling marginally better because I had company who knew the city and (2) trying to keep it together in the face of everything that losing a smartphone in 2024 implies. After the police took down the added details at the incident site, T and co. asked me if I wanted to still go to brunch. I agreed since I needed to sit, was shaken, and, though I didn't feel it at the time, did need more than half a cup of coffee in my stomach. At the restaurant, I tried to stay in good spirits. Aside from T, M, and W, there were two people in the group I had never met before, and we were joined by yet another person. I managed to shovel down most of an avocado toast and an Irish coffee (I effing needed the boost). T and her friends had moved on from the usual "sorry that happened to you" and were playing catch up while I asked M where I could find my phone carrier and a place I could get a new phone. I'd come to the UK with the phone that had been snatched, and had only gotten a SIM-only plan with the carrier. I thought the practical thing, since I don't know how many more months/years I'd be in the UK, would be to buy a new phone, then have my carrier block the stolen phone's SIM and issue me a new one. M and I Google Mapped my options, added in my own hotel location so I could grab my passport on the way. I admitted that, considering everything, I (1) needed help getting navigating to those places from where we were and that (2) I didn't feel good enough to be alone just yet. We paid (I still thankfully have working credit cards) for our food and finally left the restaurant.

This is where, to my mind, the uncomfortable part started. Two of the extra 3 people (remember, I was only supposed to have been with T, W, and M, but they had a total of 3 other friends there too), and somehow what should have been a quick 20-30 minutes to get my passport from my hotel and then drop me off on the street with the phone and carrier store became 6 nerve-wracking hours with a too-large group. I said nothing when they started doing "for the gram" picture stops along the way. M went up to my hotel room with me when I got my passport. He took a photo of some passwords on my laptop that I might need when the phone or carrier store staff helped me with my phone. (In hindsight, we should have used pen and paper.) Then our group of 5 all went in what I assume was the direction of the two stores. W was navigating, and at that point, the streets were so crowded and I was getting very tense that I just trusted she knew what she was doing. In my mind, I kept replaying the mugging over and over, what I could have done differently, etc, etc. (I know what happened wasn't my fault, but at the time, I couldn't help it) and listing what I'd have to do first when I got the replacement phone and SIM. I didn't know T and co. well enough to tell them I was internally seeing red and trying not to spiral. Then, suddenly, we stopped walking... at a bubble tea place. I'd only vaguely heard what the group had been talking about as we walked along, since it seemed to be more Instagram/YOLO, etc stuff and no one was asking my input anyway. I smiled tightly and declined an offer for them to buy my bubble tea, opting to stand outside the store to work on staying calm. I didn't realize (hadn't been told) they wanted a break or anything, but I couldnt complain since I was literally dependent on them until I could get a new phone. We eventually got to the phone store, the last remaining extra person left, and I had to pay full price for a phone because as a foreigner I couldn't get on the monthly payment plans. T, M, and W, instead of just pointing me to the carrier store three shops down, came in with me and waited while I talked to the staff. At some point, W or T asked if I wanted coffee, and, while I thanked them for still being there, I declined the drink again. I thought they'd go off to a nearby café or something since I had paperwork, etc to fill. They and M never left. By the time I got the new SIM in the phone and the staff had advised me to go back to the store where I'd bought the phone to get help setting it up, M, T, and W were still there. They went back to the phone store with me, and T told me to stop being so anxious and sit down while we waited in the queue for assistance.

By then, it was almost 5 in the afternoon. The tech assistant helped as much as he could, since I was basically setting up my phone from scratch, but said I could do the rest with my tablet back at my hotel... or come back to the store with it before closing time so he could walk me through that part. T gave me a card with some of the friend-group's phone numbers, and she, M, and W still walked me to my hotel (I'm pretty sure it was unpromted, but my head was so foggy at that point from all I had done and still had to do). It turned out the hotel was a 10-min walk in a straight line from the phone shop. We got to the entrance to my hotel, I said thanks to them for being there the whole time, and they left. I handled grabbing my tablet and walking right back (in 5 min) to the phone shop to finish setup alone. The day ended with me exhausted, having a semi-functional phone that I'd have to wait to fully fix still when I got to my apartment (in a place I jokingly nickname the Shire) after the weekend, and crying to friends back in the States in a call over a lousy room-service dinner. I told them what happened, including my misgivings over all the YOLO stops, and they calmed me down and helped me a little more with fixing my phone.

I got at most two hours of sleep by the time the sun rose on Sunday morning... and then made myself presentable enough to meet A, the original London friend who had introduced me to T, W, and M where I first arrived in the country. I told him that while I was grateful for his friends' help the previous day, I didn't think I could go through that again. (I didn't exactly want to say "they're good-time people, but I don't know if I'd want the...awkward stops all over the place again if I were ever in another crisis around them.") What A said... upset me. T, M, and W had apparently complained to him that, while they still thought I was a lovely person (ah, Britishisms!) I acted "entitled" to their company the whole afternoon and was scowling too much. They didn't regret canceling plans for me, but I seemed "ungrateful in my human interactions with them". A all but said I had to APOLOGIZE to his friends.

I'm in my early 30s, with a no-nonsense, get-shit-done North American mentality and I'm aware my default expression, especially when I'm too tired, is RBF (resting bitch face, for those too young to know), and I feel terrible if I need to drag anyone at all into my messes. They're energetic and bubbly Brits in their late 20s. But they really could have left me at any point, just given me directions and left, and I would not at all have held it against them. Just like I was grateful and held nothing against that father with the kid who initially helped me after the mugging. Is this an AITA situation? Did I miss anything? Is this a subtle cultural/age/millennial-GenZ divide?

I'm still tired as FUCK, trying to get used to this new phone, and have a LOT of life admin to do suddenly after this whole weekend. If you have any thoughts or comments, whoever and wherever you are, feel free to say something.

[backup-baby-backup]

Very preliminary and speculatory writing of Midnights timeline

Disclaimer: All the exact dates are based on tracking Taylor's private jets, which is a controversial activity (to say the least). Those are sourced from @youareinlovees' detailed masterposts.

Aaron Dessner confirmed that High Infidelity and Would've, Could've, Should've were written and recorded during Grammys week in March 2021. Since Taylor was in LA between March 7th and March 15th only, we can safely assume that those songs were written within that period.

The Great War and Hits Different were probably written before Jack Antonoff became the main co-writer of Midnights, because (according to Dessner in the podcast above) that signified a change in concept, but they probably also weren't written in March 2021 since Dessner mentioned them separately.

According to Taylor, most Taylor/Antonoff co-writes were written in New York, when JA and Jack's fiance were filming in Panama. This means they were written between November 22nd, when Taylor flew back from Panama to New York, and December 16th, when Taylor flew to Panama.

According to Rolling Stone, Lavender Haze and Glitch came out of a session where Jack Antonoff, Sounwave, Sam Dew and Zoe Kravitz worked on Zoe's debut album. This was before Jack started working on Midnights (so before November 2021), but also Jack only sent those tracks (demos?) a few months later, which might put the date around late 2021/early 2022.

Also in the same article, Karma was a "last-minute Hail Mary"-- wouldn't be surprised if it was the last song to be written on the album.

Sweet Nothing mentions a trip to Ireland "last July", i.e. July 2021, which probably implies the song was written in 2022. Additionally, on 19 April 2022, JA did an interview where he mentioned he didn't intend to write any more songs under a pseudonym, which either means 1. he signed an NDA or 2. he had already written Sweet Nothing at this point. For wishful thinking purposes I will assume the latter.

Snow On The Beach, which was co-written with Lana Del Rey, was finished by 4 April 2022, as on that day Lana posted this photo on her Instagram, a colourized version of which was later included in this Instagram post.

Now on to the solo writes: Vigilante Shit is a mystery. It mentions Scooter Braun's ex-wife so that puts it after July 2021, but that's it. Maybe she saw the news of Scooter getting a divorce and cackled manically? (also I don't think the FBI line points to anything concrete-- more of a revenge fantasy than anything IMO)

Bigger Than The Whole Sky is also a mystery, but if you believe that it's about Claire Winter then that would place it after March 2022.

You're Losing Me... um... I really don't know? I think there is a possibility it was written along with most of Midnights in that Nov-Dec 2021 session, especially since JA was in a different country then, but it also could have literally been written last month and we would be none the wiser. Here I'm going to give Taylor the benefit of the doubt. Also Hits Different is a breakup anthem but we don't talk about that...

Midnights was most likely finished by May at the latest, when she quoted a lyric from Labyrinth in her NYU speech and may or may not have teased the name of the album in this Instagram post.

To conclude:

7-15 March 2021: High Infidelity, Would've, Could've, Should've

March-November 2021: The Great War, Hits Different, Vigilante Shit

22 Nov-16 Dec 2021: Maroon, Anti-Hero, You're On Your Own, Kid, Midnight Rain, Question...?, Bejeweled, Labyrinth, Mastermind, Paris, Dear Reader, You're Losing Me

Late 2021-Early 2022: Lavender Haze, Glitch

2022 (before May): Bigger Than The Whole Sky, Snow On The Beach, Sweet Nothing, Karma

Feel free to comment if you think I've missed something important or got something wrong, though I might not respond immediately (busy week coming up).

[homo-del-reyyyy]

I have two therapy sessions a week, one online group sesh and one offline 1:1 sesh. I also have ADHD. So during the online sessions, which are 2 damn hours, I am usually multitasking: gaming, or reading, or working. Today I was simply walking on my treadmill and one of the therapists began complaining how distracting it was that I was walking. They asked if I could stop and I was like... No cos I am multitasking, but I can turn off my camera? They were like no we need to have them on, could you face it more upwards or something? So that's what I did. Then 2 mins later: "we need to see your face". I'm like omg pick one. I even suggested she just not look at me lol... Like... I am here. I am taking part. Let me do my thing. I cannot just sit still and listen to y'all ramble for 2 hours straight I just cannot!!!

[onewhoturns]

A-Z Challenge GAME 5

Starting D today, so here we have: E games!

This one is... hm. To be honest, with the first-person games I'm a *little* concerned that I might feel nauseous if I try to muscle through a couple of these in a short time frame >< The only one I'm sure won't make me sick is Erica, but I've played a demo of Eternal Threads and it was mostly okay, not sure what to expect from Escape Academy, but just might not be a one- or two-session knockout, if it makes me feel ill -.-'

I also would need to find people able to play a session with me for that game, cause some of those achievements are multiplayer, but not many

As always, more info on the games under the cut.

Do me a solid this round cause y'all have ignored all the other fmv games and all the horror/thriller stuff from last round and I want to play one

1. Erica (2021)

"Prepare to immerse yourself in an interactive live-action thriller, merging the world of film and game like never before. Erica is a young lady plagued with nightmares of her father's murder. With the traumatic events of her childhood dragged back into the light via grisly new clues, it's up to you to unearth the shocking truth. Explore the enigma of Delphi House where every choice you make influences how the game develops, with multiple endings awaiting you at the finale of the gripping branching narrative." Steam tags: choose your own adventure, fmv, interactive fiction, female protagonist, point & click, choices matter, puzzle, story rich, action

2. Escape Academy (2022)

"Welcome to Escape Academy. Train to become the ultimate Escapist. Solve Puzzles. Hack Servers. Meet the Faculty. Brew the perfect cup of tea. Escape Rooms in single player or co-op with a friend - local or online!" Steam tags: escape room, puzzle, multiplayer, online co-op, visual novel, adventure, casual, mystery, story rich

3. Eternal Threads (2022)

"Eternal Threads is a single-player, first-person story-driven puzzle game of time manipulation, choice and consequence. As an operative tasked with fixing corruption in the timestream, you have been sent to the North of England in May 2015, where six people died in a house fire. Prohibited from simply stopping the fire, you must instead manipulate the choices made by the housemates in the week leading up to it so that they all survive the event." Steam tags: choices matter, story rich, multiple endings, time manipulation, investigation, emotional, adventure, atmospheric