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justagalwhowrites · 1 year

Note

Prompt 89 please

Hi Bestie!!

Thank you for this request! This was a fun one, I decided to do the DBF!Joel and Reader I did a one shot about a few weeks back. You can find that here for context but you can definitely just read this sucker all on its own.

Long Distance

You and Joel have been making long distance work but this week, things hit a bit of a snag.

Written from Prompt 89: “YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!”

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (Same couple as DBF!Joel from Homecoming)

Warnings: SMUT! Masturbation (female), Oral (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up y'all!) No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 2.5K

If you were going to make a list of things that sucked, you knew exactly where you’d start.

It used to be delays on the L making you late for work and the grocery store around the corner from your apartment being sold out of your favorite wine.

Now?

Distance. Long distance.

Long distance really fucking sucked.

Especially when you were stuck working with your ex and - not that it was a competition - but you’d totally won the breakup. Joel was so much hotter than your ex it wasn’t even funny.

Well, it was kind of funny.

It was also kind of funny how much better he was in bed, even if he had more than a decade on you - and anyone else you’d ever dated, for that matter.

Not to mention the fact that you were fucking crazy about the guy. Even if he was your dad’s best friend and you were trying to keep the fact that you spent half of your visits home to Austin across the street at Joel’s getting absolutely destroyed a secret.

“Your daddy’s gonna fuckin’ knock the shit out of me one of these days,” Joel muttered, still panting for breath as he lay next to you on the living room floor on your last visit. “I’ll deserve it, too, all the things I do to you…”

“All the things I beg you to do to me you mean,” you smirked a little.

“Fuckin’ dirty girl,” he growled.

You glanced at him, wicked gleam in your eye.

“Only for you,” you smirked.

“Damn right only for me,” he said, and he was on you again.

Normally, you made it work. You talked every day. The distance had been kind of nice for actually getting to know each other better. You hung out plenty when you visited but there was a limit to just how much you could get away with not being with your parents when visiting your parents. At least not without having an excuse - an excuse that neither you or Joel were ready to give quite yet. And when time was limited and Joel was there, his arms on display in those t-shirts that had to be tailored they fit so goddamn well and his eyes looking at you like he was starving and you were his favorite meal, talking wasn’t always on the top of the list.

You were kind of surprised at how fast he’d become your best friend considering he lived more than 1,000 miles away. You’d become experts at the watch party function on Amazon Video, the two of you regularly watching a movie or working your way through a TV show while video chatting (frequently needing to rewind a few minutes when you got sidetracked talking) and you now had a usual way to set up your tablet at your breakfast bar so it was like the two of you were having dinner together.

This week, however, he’d been all but MIA. He was still texting you periodically - always a good morning and good night and a check in part way through the day to see how things were going - but your usual phone dates had been ditched.

“I’m so sorry, I’m just too slammed tonight,” Joel texted one night, only about 10 minutes before the call was supposed to start. “I have to get this project plan done.”

“It’s pushing 9,” you texted back, trying to not sound like a total ass about it.

“I know,” he replied. “Trust me, I ain’t happy about it either.”

“Have fun with work,” you texted back, grinding your teeth.

You’d checked the group chat you had with your girlfriends and saw where a few of them were going out that night. You put on a cute dress, did your hair and make-up and went to the bar. You took a selfie with one of your friends and cocktail in your hand - your tits looking particularly good in this dress - and posted it to Instagram with the caption “Ladies nights are the best nights.”

Joel texted you 20 minutes later.

“Low blow, Princess.”

You smirked and texted back.

“Don’t know what you mean.”

He’d canceled every other night that week, too. You got the feeling he was keeping something from you and you didn’t like it. You had a three day weekend that weekend and had mentioned maybe coming down to visit weeks ago but Joel had asked you not to.

“Not even really worth the trip,” he said. “Don’t want you goin’ through all that trouble…”

Your boss let you off a few hours early Thursday afternoon and you went home, a little frustrated about the fact that you didn’t have plans for the weekend. You’d been kind of hoping Joel would reach out and see if you wanted to do a movie marathon or something one day but it hadn’t come up. But you’d left the weekend wide open. Like an idiot.

“So stupid,” you muttered, unzipping your skirt and unbuttoning your silky blouse. But when you caught sight of yourself in your full length mirror, you felt… well, like you looked damn good. Your hair and makeup were surprisingly intact after your commute home, the bra you had on was one of your favorites…

You left your thigh high stockings on and slipped your feet back into your heels and you struck a pose in front of the mirror, your shirt open to reveal a glimpse of the black lace bra with matching panties. You snapped the photo and texted it to Joel.

“Hope your day is going well.”

You took off the shirt and turned around in the mirror, so you could see just how well the black lace thong highlighted the shape of your ass. You took a photo of that, too.

“I got off work early,” you typed, sending that photo along, too.

You posed carefully, looking up at the camera almost like you would if you were on your knees in front of him to suck him off, aligning things so he had the perfect view of your cleavage.

“Too bad I don’t have anything to do.”

You took off the bra then and got one of your more… sizable toys from your nightstand, the one that reminded you most of Joel, and you lay down on the bed. You carefully arranged things and framed up the shot, making it so he could just see the burgundy tint of your lips, the way your necklace fell into the hollow of your throat and the toy set between your breasts.

“Figured I’d take care of things myself since you’ve got better things to do.”

You tossed your phone to the corner of the bed and slipped off your panties, fantasizing about everything Joel had done to you the last time you’d come to visit, fucking yourself hard but not feeling particularly satisfied when you were done.

You sighed and cleaned the toy and put on some leggings and a tank top with a hoodie you’d stolen from Joel and realized that you’d spent the last two hours in your own head with your fingers rubbing your clit and you had no idea what to have for dinner. You retrieved your phone from where it had gotten kicked onto the floor mid-orgasm and realized you had a bunch of missed calls and texts from Joel.

“Going better now, Princess,” the first text said. “But take it easy on me, heading into a meeting.”

“Oh shit,” you winced. He was probably somewhere without great signal, everything was showing as sent on your end by the time he started replying.

It only got worse from there.

“Baby, you are sexy as hell but now ain’t the time,” the next text said. “Please listen and cool it, I have to present.”

“What did I just say?”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

“ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE PRINCESS.”

You checked your voicemail, putting it on speaker as you winced.

“YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!”

Yeah, you had. That… that was exactly what you’d done.

“I get that you’re pissed at me right now, Baby, but fuckin’ hell, you can’t just do that shit! Next time I see you, you’re gonna regret that.”

You tried to call him back and apologize - or at least explain - but it went straight to voicemail.

“Apparently not that important to you,” you muttered, tapping the phone on your hand and going to find a movie to watch, one that Joel would hate so you’d keep yourself busy and not feel like you were missing out.

When you started feeling hungry, you went in and ordered enough Indian food on Uber Eats to last you the weekend and went to pick the next movie to watch. But it was only about 15 minutes after you’d ordered that there was a knock on your door. You frowned.

“That was suspiciously fast,” you muttered, going for the door and not bothering to look through the peep hole.

But it wasn’t the delivery guy standing there.

It was Joel.

“What!” You yelped, launching yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck. He caught you, his arms going around your waist as you kissed all the parts of his skin you could reach. “What the hell are you doing in Chicago? I thought you were busy this weekend…”

“Tryin’ to surprise you,” he muttered into your shoulder. “Been tryin’ to cram a week’s worth of work into four days so I could see you…”

“Joel!” You leaned back from him and he set you back on the ground. “You should have said something!”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” He asked as you pulled him into your apartment. He set his bag down on the couch and draped his jacket on the back of one of your bar stools. “Now, you really sittin’ up here thinkin’ I was losin’ interest? That why you sent me those photos?”

“Maybe…” you said, sheepish.

“How about I go fix that,” he said, tugging you tight to his body and kissing you deeply.

You pulled him back to your bedroom, pulling at his clothes on the way. He slid the hoodie off of you and frowned.

“This mine?” He asked. You shrugged, smiling a little. “Been lookin’ for that.”

“I look better in it,” you replied.

He laughed.

“Well that’s the fuckin’ truth.”

He pushed you back onto the bed and immediately pulled your leggings down your body, tossing them on the chair in the corner before he all but dove between your legs, spreading your thighs wide.

“Look at this,” he ran a thumb over your wet slit. “My messy girl, takin’ matters into her own hands…”

You whimpered.

“Thinkin’ you might have gotten your fill earlier,” he said, brushing your clit with his thumb. “Thinkin’ this should all be for me, now. Since you sent me all those dirty pictures and I haven’t had a chance to take care of a damn thing. Been hard for you for fuckin’ hours…”

He licked along your seam, from your grasping entrance up to your clit before thrusting his tongue inside you, the move harsh and insistent.

“Joel!” You gasped, your hand going to his head, fingers digging into his curls. He just moaned against you, his thumb working your clit as he devoured you.

He knew exactly how to get you off and he did everything to bring you right to the edge before pulling back again and again, your whole body tense and needy. You whimpered and keened as he unzipped his jeans, pulling his dripping length out and rubbing it while kneeling between your thighs. You squirmed, trying to find something - anything - to give you some friction.

“Havin’ problems there, Princess?” He asked, his mouth shiny with your slick. “Wonder what that’s like, bein’ stuck lookin’ at exactly what you want and not in a position to do a damn thing about it…”

“I’m sorry,” you moaned. “I didn’t get your texts until after all mine had sent, I swear I wasn’t trying to be THAT mean!”

“Oh, so just a little mean?” He asked, lowering himself so his cock was brushing against your sex. “That all?”

“Just…” you panted and rocked your hips, trying to get him to properly fuck you. “Just wanted to make you want me…”

“Always wantin’ you,” he said, snapping his hips forward and filling you totally in one move. You gasped, your cunt starting to squeeze and pulse around him. He grunted at the feeling of it, one of his hands flying to your clit, working you through your orgasm. “Fuck, that’s right Baby, take it…”

“Fuck, Joel,” you moaned, almost crying with the force of your orgasm.

He started to fuck you - really fuck you - before it was over, your body immediately tightening around him again, not even a second of relief from your release.

“Told you you were gonna regret it,” his voice was harsh, rough. He lifted your legs so your ankles were by his shoulders, running his hands over your calves and thighs, getting even deeper into you with his new angle. “Fuck you feel good, not gonna last long…”

He drove into you hard and unrelenting, like he was trying to push himself fully into your overwrought body. One of his arms wrapped around your thighs, holding the backs of them to his stomach, while the other had reached between your legs to work your clit and you cried out at the contact, the feeling almost too much, your body almost too tight around him.

“Gonna cum on those perfect fuckin’ tits,” he panted. “Make sure you know how much I fuckin’ want you, even when I’m not around…”

You came around him with a pathetic cry and he fucked you through this orgasm, too, before he all but ripped himself from your body and leaned over you, jerking his cock with your slick just twice before spilling himself over your chest. He collapsed beside you, panting for breath.

“Jesus Christ,” you said once you were able to form words again.

“Missed you too, Baby,” he said, still a little breathless.

You smiled a little.

“So you’re saying that if I want you to come and fuck me senseless, all I have to do is send you nudes when you’re busy?” You asked, turning your head to look at him. He looked back, glaring at you.

“Swear to God Princess…” he looked like a predator about to pounce and you felt the heat that you’d thought you’d exhausted gather low in your stomach again when there was a knock at your front door.

You laughed.

“That would be dinner,” you said. “Would you mind getting that? I’m a bit of a mess…”

He pulled his pants on and grabbed his shirt.

“Saved by bell,” he winked. “But I think we’re gonna need to finish this conversation later…”

You smiled.

“Looking forward to it.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #follower celebration

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chungledown-bimothy · 14 days

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it’s wild to me that people are conflating the issues with jkr herself and issues they may have with the story that is hp, and couching it purely in rhetoric regarding transphobia and transmisogyny. hp is not a transphobic book/movie series. the author is the problem here

hp was written by jkr and going back to it as an adult and also with the context of the type of person jkr and the hate she spews means you can see some things definitely stand out as Not Great. but there are two things to that: one is that it’s mostly racist and antisemitic tropes or lazy stereotypes—not great but abundant in fiction, and in particular the context of these books being written in the late 90s/mid 00s by a white christian british woman means it’s entirely unsurprising in the context of when it was written. the attitudes shown in the books were typical of the time. we’ve come extremely far since 1997 and not everyone remembers that

and, more importantly, two: the books themselves are not overtly transphobic, and i’d argue that perhaps with the exception of certain interpretations of chamber of secrets, aren’t transphobic at all, and at the very least are unintentionally insensitive

jkr is the one who’s transphobic. and again, going back in time, she was actually considered quite progressive at the height of this franchise. she’s been radicalized over time, especially online, as many people have been in the last decade or so. it’s unfortunate that she’s a high profile enough person for that to be a really big problem, and it’s no excuse. she’s a vile person, and she spews vile filth, and many people listen to her because she’s jkr, and that hurts many people, and there’s unfortunately little to be done to stop her

but we also can’t pretend that hp wasn’t a cultural touchstone for an entire generation, and dominated media significantly for a decade. most people who were kids, teens, and young adults in the 00s- early 10s have core memories attached to the series. that’s not going to just drop from memory. but she doesn’t actually own an entire genre of children’s literature (even though she may have revolutionized its expansion). unless she dies tomorrow, it’s unlikely that we’ll be able to divorce the author from the work completely for a good few decades

so what’s left? we do what aabria did with the story. we pull the parts that were good, flip it and change it into something else. make new stories in the magic school genre. if hp is the only recent thing in that genre because people don’t want to go near it, it’ll only ever remain that way. if it makes you personally uncomfortable that’s fine, no one’s making you watch it

but it’s insane to act like watching a show that’s not actually hp on a platform unrelated to wb made by people entirely unrelated to jkr and her team is actively funding jkr’s crusade and giving it visibility and a platform. it’s really really not

while i largely agree with you, i do need to push back on a couple of things.

first: your claim that there isn't transphobia in the books.

rita skeeter, whose whole thing is disguising herself to spy on people- specifically children in the books- is described as physically "mannish" a lot, specifically her hands, shoulders, and face. and, iirc, her hair, nails, and other denotations of femininity are described as Very Obviously Fake.

while it's not the most explicit transphobia jk's written, that very much is a Fucking Problem.

second: while i get that the horrible take that sparked this is mostly about transphobia, some of your phrasing comes across as dismissive of the other bigotry.

the racism and antisemitism absolutely go above and beyond what could possibly be excused by "product of the times" shit. that cannot be ignored.

BUT all of that is secondary to the topic at hand, which is summed up very well in your last two paragraphs, i think.

#dimension 20 #i'm not tagging this anything else i simply do not want it in tags lmao

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arc852 · 2 months

Text

10. Alien

Definition: a creature from outer space; extraterrestrial.

Summary: Jimmy has been abducted by aliens, who he has learned are at least a hundred feet bigger than any human on earth. He's been trapped in a cage and he can't even ask why. Forced to sit and wait, anxiety building over time about what was going to happen to him. But one day, a couple weeks later, the alien forgets to lock his cage after feeding him.

Jimmy takes the chance to run.

G/t: Jimmy is normal-sized, Tango is a giant

Warnings: Keeping someone in a cage, abduction, mentions of dissection, mentions of death, and fear.

Word Count: 3140

AO3 Link

Okay, I gotta say, I love alien aus. Especially in G/t. It's one of my favorite tropes and I'm happy that it ended up being one of the prompts in this list!

Two things about this particular story, I actually just finished this one up today. It was from the batch of 10 fics I still needed to finish, so it was a bit last minute but I still made it! And I'm pretty happy with it, all things considered.

Also, this au has been in my head for months. It was my go to daydream scenario for a while there if I'm being honest. So it was nice to finally get something written down for it. I may even write more in this universe later on!

Oh, and because there is a language barrier, I used runes and galactic for when either Jimmy or Tango are speaking in the other person's POV. It's not a lot but there will be the translations for those at the end of the chapter.

With that said, I hope you guys enjoy!

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

Jimmy backed away as far as the cage would allow him as his captor came towards him, a small plate of food and a small bowl of water in hand. The giant set the plate of food down on the table so he could use his hand to unlock the cage and open the door. Jimmy couldn’t help it as he shook in fear, wondering if this was when he would be grabbed and taken out of the cage.

But it wasn’t. The alien simply placed the food and water in his cage and then closed it back up. Jimmy looked down at the food before looking up briefly at the giant. He quickly turned his gaze away when he noticed the guy yawning. That was not something you wanted to see when you were small enough to fit in that mouth.

The alien turned and walked away and Jimmy was left alone again. Well, as alone as he could get with the alien only being on the other side of the room. But it was a big room, so he considered himself alone.

Jimmy finally scooted forward, taking a bit of food and taking a bite. This routine of theirs had been going on for what felt like weeks now, at least. Jimmy didn’t really have a good concept of time here but based on how often he ate, again, it had to be at least 2 weeks being trapped here.

He still couldn’t believe he had been abducted by an alien. He didn’t even think they were real. But not only were they real but they were massive. His captor had to be over a 100 feet tall in comparison to humans.

The strangest thing was, the alien could almost pass for human if not for some stand out features. The size, of course, but also the alien had red eyes and even darker red pupils. The most notable thing, however, was his hair. Flames licked the sides and top, a constant movement. Fire and red seemed to be this guy's whole thing.

They couldn’t even communicate. There was a language barrier between the two of them, where neither could understand the other. Jimmy wanted nothing more than to ask why he had been taken. He had only been out in the woods on a camping trip with his brother and friends and decided to go for a walk by himself.

The next thing he knew, a large ship had landed and the giant alien had taken one look at him and grabbed him.

Jimmy shivered, still remembering the feeling of the larger than life hand wrapped around his entire person. He was put in this cage and since then he’s just been…waiting. For what, he’s not sure. But everyday his nerves get more and more tense with anxiety. The alien hasn’t taken him out of the cage yet but he has tried to speak with him. At least, Jimmy thinks he has. It was hard to tell when he couldn’t understand what the giant was saying.

The thing that made Jimmy the most nervous was that, looking at all the stuff around, the alien had to be some sort of scientist. And scientists, especially alien scientists, usually dissected things they wanted to learn more about. At least, that’s what movies had told him. But he could be wrong.

He really hoped he was wrong.

Jimmy sighed and took a sip of water. The first few days he had refused to eat or drink anything he was given but eventually he had gotten so hungry and thirsty that he had given in. Thankfully, nothing was up with it and so Jimmy continued to consume what he’s been given.

Jimmy stood up and stretched after he was done eating and then began his walk around the cage. It was one of the only things he could do in here and he figured he should try and keep himself in shape, just in case.

As he passed by the door of the cage, he put a bit of weight on it, jumping back as he saw it swing open just a bit. His eyes widened as he stared at the slightly ajar door. The alien hadn’t locked the door this time.

Jimmy didn’t even think twice about it, he slipped past the door and onto the desk, finally free of the cage. He glanced around, desperate to get away. He noticed the alien, still on the other side of the room. He seemed engrossed in his computer-like screen. Jimmy hoped that meant he wouldn’t look over here.

He went to the edge of the table and looked down. He got dizzy just looking at how far it went but he couldn’t give up here. He noticed a cord going from a machine down to the floor and ran over to it. He yanked it slightly to test it but it didn’t move at all under his weight. He took in a deep breath and scaled down the cord. When he finally reached the floor, he scurried off. His goal only to get as far away from the alien as possible and find a way out of here.

***

Tango rubbed a hand down his face and yawned into his hand once again. He was so tired, having been working nonstop to try and get everything sorted. His report on Terra was limited though, considering he hadn’t stayed long once he had realized a Terran had gotten into his parameters.

He was also still trying to figure out what went wrong on that front too. His ship had been programmed to make sure he found an area far away from any Terrans. So the fact one had passed by undetected shouldn’t have been possible.

Tango closed his eyes, still remembering the fear in the little guy's face. He felt bad for what he did but he had panicked. He tried to calm him down after the fact but the little guy didn’t understand Galactic and Tango didn’t understand any Terran languages either.

No one did, which was why he couldn’t even use a translator to help him out. Terra was still a new planet as far as the federation was considered and they were still trying to learn more before even thinking about making contact with them. That was why Tango was here, one of the first selected to gather some data on Terra by going there and gathering it himself.

He was never supposed to bring back an actual Terran though. But because the Terran had seen him, the federation told him he had no choice but to bring him along. It was too dangerous for the little guy to get away and tell someone. So, Tango made the difficult decision to put him in an enclosure and try and gain his trust from a distance.

After 2 weeks though, not much progress had been made.

Tango sighed and stood up, heading back over to the enclosure. By now, the Terran was usually done eating and Tango didn’t want to keep any dirty dishes in there for too long with him. “Alright, little buddy, I’m just gonna take your dishes from you.” He said, despite the fact the Terran couldn’t understand him, he still made it a point to talk and say what he was doing.

Tango looked down at the enclosure, only for his eyes to go wide at the lack of life within. “Wha-little buddy?!” Tango exclaimed, looking all around the table and right underneath the floor. He stood back up, looking to see the door was ajar.

He had forgotten to lock it.

“No, no, no, no, no…” Tango said to himself and then ran over to his Holo-Screen, the flame on top of his head rising a lot higher than normal because of his panic. “Holo Tek! Call Zed!”

“Calling Zed.” The robotic voice spoke and then there was a ringing.

The screen came to life with the face of Zedaph smiling at him, giving him a wave. “Hey Tango! What’s going on-”

Tango cut him off. “I lost the Terran!” He said, arms waving up and down.

Zed blinked, taking in the information. “You what?!” He suddenly exclaimed as the information caught up with him. “How did this happen?”

“I-I think I forgot to lock the enclosure.” Tango admitted sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve just been so tired lately…”

“Well, that’s not good.” Zed pushed a few buttons on his side of the screen. “At the very least, the Terran can’t get too far. He’s stuck on this ship. But we don’t want him to get into anything dangerous so best we find him quickly.”

A blare of red flashed across Zed’s face after a few more button pushes and he frowned. “I wish you would have given him that chip we had talked about…”

Tango sighed. “I didn’t want to do anything like that until I built up trust with him.” Inserting a GPS chip into the little guy would have been traumatizing for him, no doubt. He didn’t want to scare him anymore than he already had. “Besides, I didn’t think we’d really need it yet.”

“Right…” Zed said with his own sigh. “We need to get that in him sooner rather than later though. Especially once you get back here.” Zed typed a few more things. “For now, the life detection you have installed on the ship should help you find him.”

Tango’s eyes went wide and then he grinned. “The life detectionificator! I completely forgot about that!” He nodded at Zed. “I'll try that, call you back soon!” Before Zed could say any more, Tango pressed the hang up button and went into activating the system.

Tango frowned in concentration as he set it up. “Don’t worry little buddy, everything is gonna be okay…” He said to himself.

***

Jimmy should have thought this through better.

He was currently on the floor of an oversized spaceship, dwarfed by everything. Somehow, even the dust particles seemed to be at a larger scale. He wasn’t sure how that was possible but he was not in a state to be thinking about stuff like that.

He had retreated to an isolated corner of the room, trying to figure out what to do and not wanting to be in the middle of the floor while he did. But what exactly had his plan been here? He had been so happy about a chance at freedom that he hadn’t stopped to consider if it even was a good idea.

Because honestly, there was nothing Jimmy could do. He was trapped, if not in the cage, then on the spaceship itself. There was no way for him to get back home by himself, even if he knew what anything in this place did, his size was a huge detriment to his ability to even use any of it.

And now, having jumped at the chance to get out of his cage, he was probably only going to make the alien angry. Jimmy shivered at the thought, mind racing with less than pleasant scenarios. But the other problem was that Jimmy couldn’t survive like this on his own. He hated to admit it but he needed the alien. The alien was his only source of food, of water. Jimmy had no hope in getting any himself.

So he was in a dilemma. He didn’t want the alien to find him, scared of his reaction to having escaped. But he needed to be found by the alien, so he could live.

Of course, the alien finding him could also lead to his death, depending on his reaction. But it was the better choice of surviving.

Maybe if he went to the giant himself he wouldn’t be as mad?

Unfortunately, Jimmy didn’t even have the chance to make that choice, as the floor underneath him started to rumble. It wasn’t earthquake worthy, but it was enough for Jimmy to feel and know what was coming.

Jimmy turned around and looked up, backing into the corner as the alien walked over to him. His eyes had honed in on Jimmy immediately and Jimmy couldn’t help but shiver.

The towering being then stopped just short of his position and started to kneel down. Jimmy turned his head away and shut his eyes tight in preparation to be grabbed. His body tense as he waited for the feeling of giant fingers to completely surround him.

When nothing happened after what felt like several long minutes, Jimmy peered his eyes open and looked toward the alien. He was still just kneeled there, looking down at him with an expression Jimmy couldn’t quite identify. But it at least didn’t appear angry. The alien’s hands started to move as he noticed Jimmy looking at him and Jimmy flinched back. The alien stopped short before continuing. But he wasn’t bringing his hands closer to Jimmy, no, instead he moved his hands upwards, palms facing Jimmy.

Jimmy just looked at him, wondering what this could mean.

And then the alien started to speak. “I’ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷||, i ↸𝙹リ’ℸ ̣ ᒲᒷᔑリ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ᓭᓵᔑ∷ᒷ ||𝙹⚍.” Of course, Jimmy couldn’t understand what he was saying but something about the tone of his voice made Jimmy pause.

“I…i ⊣ᒷℸ ̣ ╎ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ⍑𝙹⚍⊣⍑. Y𝙹⚍’∷ᒷ ᓭ𝙹 ᓭᒲᔑꖎꖎ ᔑリ↸ i’ᒲ ᓭ𝙹 ʖ╎⊣…ᔑリ↸ i ↸╎↸ ℸ ̣ ᒷᓵ⍑リ╎ᓵᔑꖎꖎ|| ꖌ╎↸リᔑ!¡ ||𝙹⚍…” The alien shook his head with a slight wince, the meaning of the words still lost on Jimmy’s ears. “I ꖌリ𝙹∴ ||𝙹⚍ ᓵᔑリ’ℸ ̣ ⚍リ↸ᒷ∷ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑリ↸ ᒲᒷ ʖ⚍ℸ ̣ i ∷ᒷᔑꖎꖎ|| ↸𝙹リ’ℸ ̣ ∴ᔑリℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⍑⚍∷ℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍.” The alien’s eyes squinted in earnest and Jimmy really wished he could tell what he was saying.

But maybe he didn’t have to. After saying his last sentence, the alien pinched himself letting out a small hiss of pain and making Jimmy jump. The alien then pointed towards Jimmy, pointed at his arm, and then shook his head.

Jimmy blinked.

If he didn’t know any better, he would say the alien was charading that he wasn’t going to hurt him.

The alien must have seen a spark of understanding in his eyes because he smiled gently and spoke again. “I’ᒲ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ⊣𝙹╎リ⊣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⍑⚍∷ℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍, i !¡∷𝙹ᒲ╎ᓭᒷ.” His voice was softer now, as gentle as his smile. “Pꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ⚍リ↸ᒷ∷ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑリ↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ╎⎓ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ⍑╎リ⊣ ᒷꖎᓭᒷ.”

The look the alien was giving him was much too human. It made Jimmy question everything he thought about the alien.

The alien seemed to hesitate, before lowering his hands. Jimmy once again flinched back as he realized they were heading toward him but they stopped short, both hands lay flat on the floor palm up. An invitation for Jimmy to get on himself.

That gesture alone spoke volumes in Jimmy’s mind. Being grabbed, he felt helpless and trapped. But being offered a hand, one that was not constraining him…this had to be the alien trying to tell him that he wanted things to change between them.

Jimmy bit his lip. He didn’t really have a choice but at least the illusion of one was nice. At least the alien seemed to be trying. He looked into those giant red eyes, searching for anything malicious but came up empty. His gaze wandered back down to the offered hands and he felt himself stepping forward.

He hesitated as he came to stand right next to the alien’s giant hands before slowly climbing onto them. He sat in the center and looked up at the giant with shaky trust.

***

Tango couldn’t believe that had worked. He knew it was going to be hard to get across what he meant, what with the language barrier and all but he seemed to have done a pretty good job. The Terran in his hands was evident of that.

He knew this was just the start and they still had a long way to go but Tango felt giddy that they were finally making some sort of progress.

He still had a chance to mess this up though. He needed to be careful and take this slow. Tango cupped his hands slightly, so the ride would be a bit safer for his tiny passenger, and then he slowly stood up. He didn’t take his eyes off the Terran the entire time, making sure nothing was going to go wrong. Once he fully stood, he walked back over to the table with the enclosure on top of it. As the enclosure came into view, a tiny noise started up and Tango looked down in realization that it was the Terran speaking.

The little guy looked up at him, a wary look on his face. He looked between him and the enclosure before he pointed at it and shook his head, his expression becoming slightly more determined.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what the little guy was trying to convey. He didn’t want to go back into his enclosure. Which was entirely fair, honestly. Tango felt bad for keeping him in there but it was only to try and keep him safe and from trying to run.

Of course, it didn’t even do that well. So Tango was not against taking the enclosure away. “I’ll get rid of it, don’t worry.” He said. He needed to show the Terran that he could trust him and that included listening to him as best as he could.

Words weren’t going to work though, so he needed to take action. He nodded down at the Terran and then set him down on the table before grabbing the enclosure. He saw the Terran watching him with wide eyes and Tango gave him a smile before he took the enclosure back over to the closet he had gotten it from in the first place.

With that done, he walked back to the table and took a seat, looking down at the Terran. “There we go. Is that better?”

The Terran took a few steps back but at least didn’t look like he was going to run away again. He looked up at him and said a few words in his language. “ᛏᚺᚨᚾᚲ ᛁᛟᚢ”

Tango tilted head, catching onto the tone. He sounded grateful.

Now Tango felt even worse about putting him in there.

But he shook off that feeling for now. “You’re welcome.”

They still had a long way to go but Tango was certain now that they could do it. They could bridge this gap and learn to understand each other. Both in language and otherwise.

And Tango could only hope, that once that time came to pass, that the Terran didn’t hate him for being unable to take him back home.

Translations:

I’ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷||, i ↸𝙹リ’ℸ ̣ ᒲᒷᔑリ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ᓭᓵᔑ∷ᒷ ||𝙹⚍. - I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you.

I…i ⊣ᒷℸ ̣ ╎ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ⍑𝙹⚍⊣⍑. Y𝙹⚍’∷ᒷ ᓭ𝙹 ᓭᒲᔑꖎꖎ ᔑリ↸ i’ᒲ ᓭ𝙹 ʖ╎⊣…ᔑリ↸ i ↸╎↸ ℸ ̣ ᒷᓵ⍑リ╎ᓵᔑꖎꖎ|| ꖌ╎↸リᔑ!¡ ||𝙹⚍… - I…I get it though. You’re so small and I’m so big…and I did technically kidnap you…

I ꖌリ𝙹∴ ||𝙹⚍ ᓵᔑリ’ℸ ̣ ⚍リ↸ᒷ∷ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑリ↸ ᒲᒷ ʖ⚍ℸ ̣ i ∷ᒷᔑꖎꖎ|| ↸𝙹リ’ℸ ̣ ∴ᔑリℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⍑⚍∷ℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍. - I know you can’t understand me but I really don’t want to hurt you.

I’ᒲ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ⊣𝙹╎リ⊣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⍑⚍∷ℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍, i !¡∷𝙹ᒲ╎ᓭᒷ. - I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.

Pꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ⚍リ↸ᒷ∷ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑリ↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ╎⎓ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ⍑╎リ⊣ ᒷꖎᓭᒷ. - Please just understand that if nothing else.

ᛏᚺᚨᚾᚲ ᛁᛟᚢ - Thank you

#g/t #giant/tiny #mcyt g/t #au #hermitcraft #aliens #alien au #tiny jimmy #giant tango #alien tango #gtjuly2024 #day 10 #hermitcraft g/t #hermitfic

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wardenparker · 2 years

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 7

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: Explicit for violence Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Canon typical violence. WARNINGS CONTAIN SPOILERS! Kidnapping, torture, burning victim with cigarettes, broken bones, a whole lot of gun pointing and talk about murder, medicine by injection. Summary: When the divide between you and Jack becomes big enough that a well-intended question causes an explosion of anger, you decide to get out of dodge for a while. Unfortunately, this decision has consequences that neither of you could ever have anticipated. Notes: I cried writing it, I cried editing it, I cried putting this post together. Consider yourselves warned.

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

It's been a month and Jack Daniel's is a miserable fucking bastard. You've been told about the marks being detrimental to his job and refuse to get rid of the tattoo or the scars. Claiming that it wasn't your problem, and he considers that to be true, even if it pisses him off because he can't escape you. Stuck here at Statesman and being a firsthand witness to you dating. He swears he's seen half a dozen different men picking you up from your cabin and every goddamn time his stomach churns with jealousy until there's nothing left to do except get blindingly drunk.

There have been good days and bad ones, of course. You and Jack don’t ignore each other but you don’t ever do anything more intimate than having an occasional drink or taking a break from your day to have lunch together if he stops by the restaurant. Your staff has been hired and menu set, interior painted and linens picked out. Now that opening is just a few weeks away, it’s about finalizing and finesse, and your staff has been amazing.

The dating has been…touch and go. You had gone out with Ginger’s brother Lewis on almost every night of his visit, enjoying each other’s company much more than you had expected. Apparently he was just getting out of a relationship and had accepted Diana’s attempt to fix the two of you up gratefully. Without any kind of stress as to whether or not the relationship would be perfect – or even lasting – you and Lewis were able to have fun and relax on the nights you went out together.

With Jack not wanting to have anything romantic to do with anyone else especially and including you, you had no reason to say no to most of the invitations you got after that. A concert or a dinner or a movie or a special event - they were all nice things and the men were equally nice about half the time. Sometimes they stayed over and sometimes they didn’t, but none of them ever saw you more than twice. The guilt and the regret would creep in, reminding you that you have a soulmate and that he’s a good man, even if the two of you are at odds. The fact of the matter is, even with the casual and extremely platonic time that you spend with Jack, you do find yourself falling for him a little more every day. Whether that’s because you’re bound to him or because you just do love him, you really can’t be sure. And it wouldn’t do you any good to say anything anyway. So you do what Statesman employees do best and drink away the guilt.

******

Jack sighs, rolling his shoulders back before he opens the door to his house and steps outside to face the day. This time of year seems to weigh heavily on him and it doesn't help that he had watched you disappear into your cabin with some man last night while he sat on his porch. Not seeing either one of you emerge when he had finally gone to bed well after midnight.

Catching sight of Jack as you leave your house in the morning isn’t uncommon, but today when you do, guilt pools deep in your gut. Waking up with someone other than your soulmate is a special kind of self-torture, and the green-eyed, blonde-haired man curled around you this morning definitely was not Jack. This morning when you glance toward his house, you accidentally catch his eye and end up awkwardly waving as you leave your house alone. The blonde had been politely kicked out before breakfast.

Jack sends back that half-hearted wave and tries to keep the scowl off his face for your sake. Knowing that you will think that it's directed towards you instead of towards the man who had snuck out of your house this morning with a jaunt in his step that Jack certainly recognized.

A thought has been gnawing on you for a while now, and you hustle to catch up to Jack on the sidewalk that leads away from Statesman housing and heads toward the main area of the company’s campus. Trying to maintain a friendship with Jack has been agonizing for you, as you realize the actual depths of your feelings for him, but you’re also trying to respect his wishes. If he doesn’t want to be anything but a platonic pair, you aren’t going to forcibly change his mind. Either he wants to be with you or he doesn’t. End of story.

He hears your quick footsteps behind him, the effort for you to catch up to him and Jack sighs to himself. Not in any kind of mood to play nice, not when he's going to see that 'freshly fucked' glow that you seem to get when you bring someone home. Acid churns in his gut and he wonders if he's developing heartburn for how often he's eating antacids to keep it moderately tolerable.

He slows down only slightly, but you catch up to him by just the last few steps that land much harder like a schoolgirl trying to casually match the stride of her upperclassman crush. It’s a fairly apt comparison for how you feel about him sometimes, but that’s not a thought you want to have to nurse today. “In a hurry today?” You ask, knowing he isn’t late for his usual day. His 9-5 is the same as yours.

"Just wanting to get my heart pumping." Jack doesn't look over at you. "Not getting much exercise being stuck behind a desk." He tells you. "Champ still won't clear me for field work."

That’s your fault. You know it is. You’ve had full conversations about it. But as long as Jack insists on acting like you mean nothing to him, you’re going to maintain the same behavior. If he doesn’t want a soulmate, then he doesn’t get any of the benefits of you being that person. Including, but not limited to, an understanding heart.

“I had something I wanted to ask you,” you admit, shoving your hands in your pockets as you walk. Something that is very much above and beyond the call of a normal friend, but you’re telling yourself that that doesn’t mean anything. He’s not the only person you’ll be asking about this, so it’s fine.

"What do you need to know?" Jack rolls his eyes, noticing that you are avoiding him mentioning the fucking tattoo, but he didn't expect you to.

“I know it’s not really your thing…” He looks annoyed, and you wonder if he didn’t get enough sleep last night or if he skipped breakfast. The fleeting thought that he might be jealous of your date is flicked away with the reminder that he doesn’t want to be connected to you. He’s probably glad you’re finally leaving him alone. “But I’m asking my friends, which you did say you wanted to be,” the reminder comes with an awkward smile that you drop when he doesn’t respond. “Gabriella’s birthday is coming up, so it jogged my memory. I’m just asking my friends what they want their birthday cakes to be this year so I can plan ahead.”

"I don't celebrate my birthday." Jack manages to say the words without anger or devastation in the inflection in his voice. "Don't worry about it, sugar."

“I know you had said that, but I thought…sometimes it’s worth revisiting an old tradition. Who doesn’t like cake and presents, ya know?” Walking beside him, you feel like you ought to be clutching your textbooks and twirling your hair or something equally ridiculous. But all you want is to show him that you’re not the enemy.

Jaw clenched, Jack stops short and whirls towards you, obviously startling you from the way that you jump but he doesn't give a damn. You just push and you push and you push, not giving a damn what someone else might want. "I don't fucking celebrate the day my goddamn wife and baby boy died." He growls furiously. "Forget the goddamn day exists."

You feel knocked over even though all you've done is freeze on the sidewalk, wide eyes staring at him in shock while you're not sure if your jaw is trembling in shock or dropped fully open. "I—" The way your chest clenches, it feels like you might dissolve inwardly. "I didn't know. I'm so...I'm so sorry..."

"You didn't know because you didn't give a fuck." Jack sneers. "All you care about is yourself, what you want. What you think is best, damned what anyone else might think."

"Where do you get that from?" From bottomless sympathy, you bounce back to shock in a very different way. "I was trying to do something nice for you!"

"I told you I don't celebrate and you couldn't let it go." He shouts. "You won't get rid of the fuckin' tattoo so I can do my goddamn job. Maybe if you did, you wouldn't hafta worry about a fuckin' soulmate because I would be dead like I deserve to be!"

"This is the first and only time I've asked since the day we met." This time you know for certain that your lip is trembling, and that it's from oncoming tears. Being screamed at is never something you've been able to take, and this is...it's Jack. Someone you want to make happy so desperately that you're doing things you actively hate in order to do it. "You didn't want a soulmate. You wanted to be friends. So that's all I've done."

“I do want a soulmate. I want my soulmate.” Jack fumes, eyes flashing angrily. “I want the woman who fucking died on my birthday because she was going to get the fuckin’ candles she had forgot to buy for my cake. For me. She died because of me! That’s the soulmate I want!” His own agony makes him blind to the fact that he is crying, tears rolling down his face and his heart about to fucking bust apart, but not because of Abigail, it’s from hearing you say that all you’re trying to do is be friends.

With both of you crying it's almost an exercise in futility to make sense of anything, or to try to hold a reasonable conversation, and you can feel yourself shutting down faster than lightning. The words are there, ringing in your ears, never ever to leave again. I want my soulmate. Not you. Never you. He wants his wife back and you're just standing in the way and insulting her memory purely by existing. "Right." You barely croak out the one syllable, nodding vaguely and already backing away from him while you try not to shake where you stand. "Th—that's...you..." Whatever sentence you were trying to form isn't happening, to the point where all you can think about clearly is how badly you don't want him to be upset with you anymore. And the only way to do that is to walk away. "I'm sorry." Are the only coherent words you manage to murmur, fleeing in the opposite direction as soon as you get them out.

Jack stands there for a few minutes, only moving to wipe away the tears when his breathing is relaxed. Dread curling in his stomach as he replays the cruel things he had said to you in his anger and sorrow. “Shit.” He hisses quietly, wondering if you would talk to him now, but he doubts it.

You have to get yourself under control before you make it to the restaurant, you know that. But the tears rolling down your cheeks are thick and angry and making it hard for you to think, and when you pull out your phone to send a text you can barely read the screen. Hopefully, even if it doesn't make sense, your brother will understand enough to call you later. It's Friday and you need to be anywhere but here this weekend. Hopefully his guest room is free.

******

Jack pauses outside the restaurant, knowing that he needs to talk to you again, but he can’t make himself go inside. He’s fucked this all up. He’s hurt you and his heart aches from that. Instead, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number that oftentimes he avoids like the plague. “Hey doc.” He greets the Statesman therapist when the call is picked up. “Do you have some free time? I need to talk.”

A two-hour flight to New York is nothing, but by the time you land it’s late and the sight of your brother standing at the gate waiting for you nearly brings you to relieved tears.

******

It’s not unusual that he doesn’t see you at night. His therapy session opening his eyes and making him see that he’s been very wrong, very cruel to you. Sighing, Jack pushes off the swing with his foot, the tall glass of Statesman in his hand as he watches your dark cabin. He knows you’re in there, the pinging on his phone showing that you are.

There’s no sign of you all the next day, or even the one after that. No movements from your house, no lights turning on or off, no television flickering or even anyone else’s car in the driveway. It’s like you’ve shut yourself inside and locked out the rest of the world.

Jack tries to go about his weekend, but his eyes still wander over to your place. Hoping to see you, not having enough courage to go over and knock. He knows you won’t answer the door and it’s not like he’s given you any reason to. So he waits for an opportunity to bump into you.

But when Monday morning comes, you aren’t there. The bracelet he gave you - the one that was presented as an apology for an argument but actually contained a tracker so he can keep an eye on you - hasn’t moved. According to that tracker you’re still in your house, but it’s 8:40 on Monday morning and you are never late. You should be closing your front door behind you right now to walk to work, but there isn’t any trace of you in sight.

“Fuck this.” Jack slaps his thigh and stalks across the small courtyard to march up your step and - it’s probably a little more forceful than necessary - he starts beating on your door. “Come on, sugar! Open the door!”

There’s no answer. No movement from within at all. A peak through the garage door shows your car sitting there as usual so it’s not like you’ve decided to break your walking tradition and drive to work.

“Damnit.” Jack shakes his head and presses the button on his watch. “Ginger, unlock cabin 6.” He orders, worry starting to curl in his gut though your marks are still on his skin.

“Roger.” Ginger’s voice comes through his com loud and clear and the locks on your front door click open obediently to allow him entry.

His search is quick, getting more and more hurried as he rushes through the space until he’s convinced you’re not here. “Shit.” Jack hisses, sweeping his hat off his head in a panic. “Shit!”

“Agent Whiskey. Report.” Ginger had left the com open when she unlocked your house, knowing Jack would never want her to do something like that for anything less than an emergency.

“Where the fuck is she, Ginger?” There’s an undercurrent of panic in his voice and the bracelet firmly in his fist. “‘Cause she ain’t here.”

"Come into the office," she urges him, knowing that tone in his voice after years of working together. "I'll see if I can track her down in the couple of minutes it takes you to get here."

“Find her now, Ginger.” Jack flies out of the cabin and his boots thump on the walkway as he makes for Statesman at a dead sprint.

The door to the lab slams open with a violent rattle five minutes later but Ginger barely moves in her seat. The control panel in front of her gives her domain across the myriad of screens mounted on the wall, most of which are showing traffic cam footage, sidewalk security footage, or even in-building security footage of you over the last two days. A flight itinerary is pulled up in one corner and the far-left monitor shows a string of text messages. "She went to New York City," Ginger tells Jack, her hands flying across her keyboard. "It looks like she went to see her brother after your last fight."

“How did— you know about that?” Jack huffs, slightly deflated as he catches sight of the texts that you had sent your brother and winces at the stark harshness of his words written out. “Shit. Can you track her phone? Where is she now?”

"I tracked her phone to a hotel in Times Square." That fact makes Ginger cringe, but she glances up at Jack cautiously. "She didn't get on her flight last night and she didn't change her ticket, either. When I called the kitchen with the pretense of wanting to invite her to lunch today, her sous-chef said she hadn't heard from her either."

“Fuck.” Jack shakes his head, pointing at her as he starts rushing for the door. “Get Pony Express fueled up and on the tarmac when I get there!” He orders as he dashes out of the room. In his gut he knows something is very wrong.

Jack dashes out of Ginger’s office right before she gets another ping on your information - something more than cell phone records between your family members like she’s seen this morning. This is a missing person’s report, filed by your brother with NYPD just a minute or two ago. “Shit.” Ginger mutters, furiously clicking at her control panel to notify the hangar to have the Pony Express ready so she can call Champ immediately.

Jack has never run so fast in his life. Breathlessly changing into his flight suit and bolting for the fighter jet. He knows something’s wrong. You would never let your kitchen be kept in the dark, no matter how upset you were with him. No, this is dangerous and it’s all his fault.

******

There are some things television is very informative about: interior decorating, cooking, fashion, even nature or manufacturing. But in no way, shape, or form does it prepare the unsuspecting person for what kidnapping might really be like.

The men who approached you after you left your self-indulgent solo dinner had been overbearing and pushy, asking for your number and where you were going, trying to get you to go with them willingly to their next destination - a bar you had never heard of. When you had politely refused so many times that you had to go from polite to insistent, the one standing directly in back of you had pushed the muzzle of a gun into your back while the leader ordered you to do as you were told so you wouldn’t have your spinal cord severed. In terror, you had obeyed.

The duct tape, zip ties, and blindfold were not enough, apparently. You had been gagged and starved, left tied to a chair in a room you could only describe as drafty and damp, and generally ignored excepted to be threatened periodically or violently interrogated whenever one of them got frustrated. You’re fairly certain that you now know what waterboarding actually is, but you’re grateful they haven’t done worse. The thing is — what they want? Is Jack. And there is no way you’re going to give them that. Even as angry as you can be with each other, if you didn’t realize that you loved him before now, this would have proved it. Literally willing to die for his safety, you haven’t said one coherent word to these mongrels since they shoved you into the back of an SUV in Times Square.

“Come on sweetheart…” The slow, condescending roll of the words come from your left where a man of middle-aged years is watching you, leaning back in his chair as your head swivels towards him. “All you gotta do is make a phone call. One thirty second call. You can be as damsel in distress as you’d like.”

With a gag in your mouth, you shake your head once to signal ‘no’ and raise your head again, determined not to cry this time. You have no idea how long you’ve been with these degenerates, but it feels like days - and you’ve definitely cried a lot during that time. So much that you’re starting to finally feel numb.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” mutters someone on your other side. The voice sounds younger. Angrier. And familiar. “She’s fuckin’ useless.”

“No, she ain’t.” There is a low, evil chuckle from the other man. “You said she’s his soulmate.” He hums, pleased with himself. “If she doesn’t want to cooperate, we’ll start shippin’ pieces of her back to him.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. You blink back the fear, cut between the fear that that kind of stunt either wouldn’t work at all because Jack hates you so much, or that it would bring him straight into danger on Champ’s orders. Whoever that man is, he can’t know what Statesman really is - or is that exactly why they came for you? If you could fucking place his voice, that would be a huge goddamn help.

“Aw, look.” One of the other men snickers nastily. “Bitch is gonna cry again.”

There’s a round of chuckling, generally enjoying your fear and upset, “I bet it’s gonna eat him alive.” The older man snorts. “Buryin’ a second soulmate. Another one he couldn’t save.” There’s another round of amusement, harsh and cold. All of them in on a secret you don’t know.

“Go get some dinner.” The first man tells another. “I’m hungry. I’ll watch her, see if she’ll give in.”

There is a general sound of chairs scraping and boots on concrete, the sound of heels clicking so similar to the now-familiar sound of cowboy boots on the sidewalk. They keep you from responding with the gag, and the blindfold keeps their faces hidden, but they always want you to hear. It keeps you afraid, and fear is what they’re banking on. That fear will make you cave. What they don’t know is that your fear has more to do with not knowing whether or not Jack will even care that you’re gone.

“Has he fallen for you yet?” The question comes with a hint of irony in his voice. The need for information that would twist the knife deeper. “Or is he runnin’ from it to keep from gettin’ hurt?”

You can’t help that that brings a fresh set of tears. It seems to be the part of your body you have the least control over. Fucking tear ducts. But this guy’s seemingly endless need to talk and talk and make you as miserable as humanly possible has made you pay more attention to his voice over however long you’ve been here. Some of the others have slightly different accents - but this one is a cowboy.

“Mhm, running.” The deeply satisfied tone settles back slightly as he sits back in his chair and watches you, “just so you know it’s not personal.” He tells you conversationally. “I just want to see the poor bastard’s face as he holds another dead soulmate.”

Without this fucking gag in your mouth, you might have said something that would give you away. That would hurt Jack somehow or prove that you actually are useless to them. They don’t know that you’ve fallen for him despite your very best efforts, and they don’t know that he despises you simply for existing. He’s not running from anything – but you’re not Abigail, so you’re an insult to her memory.

“Oh hell, I’ll tell you since you aren’t leavin’ this room.” Alive is left off the end of the sentence, but the threat is clearly there. “I was the one who arranged for good ol’ Jack Daniels to lose his first soulmate. Her and the kid she was carryin’. Cherry on top of you ask me.”

Your eyes open wide against the blindfold, head snapping in the direction of the voice as he chuckles. The evil bastard is so goddamn pleased with himself. You could scream if you had breath, but the best you can do is fight against bindings that will never break.

“Bastard never even knew it, either. Dumb son of a bitch.” He huffs. “Bought the story of it being meth heads, robbing the store. Can you believe that? But it allowed me to attend the funeral. Watch his grief firsthand.”

Why? Is all you can wonder, as your mind races to try to figure out what the hell Jack could have done to warrant such a vast conspiracy before he was ever even a spy. Diana said Jack hadn’t joined Statesman until after his wife and son had died, so why the hell would anyone want to ruin his life when he was just a normal man?

“Jack Daniels is gonna fuckin’ pay,” the chair scrapes back and the sound of boots slowly comes towards you, ominous in how measured the steps are. “Maybe I’ll stage it for him. Write a note sayin’ how you couldn’t take being his soulmate.” He chuckles and his hand caresses the side of your face. “Pretty neck of yours will look good stretched out on a rope for him to find.”

You grunt, jerking your face away from his touch and wishing you could just scream at him. The muffled noises of frustration that do make it past your lips seem only to amuse him and you twist in your chair in a vain desire to lash out.

“Oh don’t be that way…” he tuts and bends down, smirking directly in your face even though you can’t see it. “You’d even be my type if you weren’t tied to that bastard. Maybe we could have some fun before your usefulness is done.”

That’s a line too far, and you instinctively start screaming, not like you’re trying to call for help but like you would call him every horrible name in the book if you could speak. There’s no way you can move but you take a chance, even knowing it’s a long shot. Reeling back as quickly as possible, you hit your head forward and manage to connect – head butting the bastard and making him stumble and fall backward into some nearby furniture, from the sound of it. Bastard.

“Bitch!” he growls, rushing forward and raising his hand. Bringing it down against the side of your face and slapping you hard enough to nearly knock your chair over. “Fuck with me and I start chopping you into pieces now!” He bellows.

Muffled and muted, the "Fuck you!" you scream as loud as you can is just clear enough to understand. You've gone from terrified to pissed, and it feels like a light switch has turned on inside you. These fuckers aren't getting shit from you. Not even another tear.

******

Honestly, Jack doesn’t remember a time when he’s pushed the Pony Express so hard. Finally setting down on the runway, he ignores the curious and awed looks of the grounds crews of the airport and starts looking around. “Where are my wheels, Ginger?”

"Rye is in the black SUV on the edge of the runway." Ginger fires back immediately. Champ had authorized the rescue mission immediately and sent one of the senior agents from the New York office to be at Jack's disposal.

“Goddamnit this is all my fault,” Jack spots the car and starts running, not bothering to change out of his flight suit. “She should be in her kitchen!”

"I've combed the security footage from Times Square." In his ear, Ginger is clicking through countless screens with images of you from all angles - a large number of them featuring a group of seven men and a large SUV that you appear to get into willingly. "She got into a slate gray SUV with a group of seven men on West 51st between 8th and Broadway."

“Who the fuck are they?” Jack demands, ripping the door open and jumping inside the car. He spares Rye a nod as he waits for his answer. “And did you track the SUV?”

“I’m working on the car. It drops off the traffic cameras after the Williamsburg Bridge.” A few clicks can be heard in the background and Ginger hums. “I have records on four of the seven men. Domestic, drug charges, firearms, breaking and entering, the usual gamut of ‘goon’ crimes. But…” she muffles a groaning sound. “Jack. Some of these guys are from your hometown…”

“What?” Jack slams his fist on the dashboard, sick that his suspicions are right. This is all his fault. “Give me their names.”

"Hank Rollins, Ben Jeffrey, Andrew Kelly, and Sean Perring. All from Lloyd, Montana." Ginger bites her lip, sighing at her screen. "On the sidewalk footage she appears to be going with them willingly, but from your reaction I'm guessing that isn't the case."

“Rollins.” Jack growls out, pissed off to hear the name after so long, thinking that he’d escaped the fucking family feud unscathed. “Haven’t heard that name in a long time. Hoped to never hear it again.”

“They’ve had her for nineteen hours now.” Ginger swallows, not liking how high that number is. “And we haven’t had a ransom note or a phone call of any kind.”

“Shit.” Jack shakes his head. “Take me to where she was taken. Now.”

Rye doesn’t hesitate, throwing the car into gear and heading for the road at a full tilt. Getting close to Broadway at any time of day is a task, but if they have to, he can pull any number of public safety tricks to be able to block off part of the area. Being a Statesman agent in New York City means having a few tricks up his sleeve. “What can we be expecting?” He asks Jack, wondering if the other agent might have an idea now that he knows some of what is going on.

“Anything.” Jack’s teeth grind together. “This is personal. A family feud over land disputes dating back to the fuckin’ 1800s.” Jack hisses, shaking his head. “I left the goddamn valley for a reason.”

“They grabbed her over a two-hundred-year-old land dispute?” Nothing should surprise him at this point, with what he’s seen as a Statesman agent, but Rye still huffs. “What the hell do they want you to do? Time travel?” It’s the absence of a ransom demand that makes him nervous. They took an agent’s soulmate and it’s not money they’re after.

“When my daddy died, I put the land in the hands of the ranch board.” Jack tells him. “I didn’t wanna fucking ranch, not after Abigail died. Rollins wants me to sell to him, but I can’t. It has to be passed down to blood.”

"So what's the idea?" Speeding through the streets as fast as possible without causing an accident, Rye keeps his eyes on the road but frowns. "Make sure she's out of the picture so there's no blood to pass it down to?"

“Did I mention that the entire Rollins family is as crazy as a fuckin’ loon?” Jack huffs, shaking his head and even more worried about you now that he knows that bastard is behind your disappearance. “Who the hell knows? Tried to claim I’d stolen his soulmate at one point.”

“Jesus.” The other agent huffs, continuing to weave their way through the thick New York traffic. “It’s up to you how you want to approach this,” he tells Jack honestly. “She’s your soulmate.”

“She doesn’t get hurt.” His answer is immediate, almost growled out. “Not a fuckin’ hair on her head.”

“Copy that.” His tone says everything, and Rye doesn’t ask any more questions. “We’ll get her back.”

Finally, the SUV comes to a screeching stop at the spot where you were forced into a vehicle. Jack throws open the doors and bolts out, eyes scanning the ground for something – anything. It's a long shot, but there's got to be something here that would show that you were here. Some marker. Anything.

Any street in New York City has trash and debris to a certain extent, and there are traces of people having been through the area just because of how much car and foot traffic moves through Broadway every single day. Broken bottles, cigarette butts, tissues, all the normal bits of peoples' lives that go by the wayside are littered about on steps and in sidewalk cracks. Candy wrappers or coffee cups by the curb. Rye combs the area for specialized clues – a name on a cup or a wrapper from a list of the favourite snacks listed in your file, but frustratingly finds nothing.

“Come on, there’s gotta be something here!” Jack huffs, kicking a trash can and there is the tiny clink of something metal being launched against it. “Fuck, what’s this?”

Rye bends over, swiping up the item as it glints in the sun. "Looks like a bracelet." He inspects it carefully, not finding a serial number or any indication of a designer, except for a small engraving in the tip that looks like a maker's mark. "Maybe Ginger can track down the manufacturer? It's a long shot that it will help, but it's something."

“It’s hers.” Jack stares at the inscription on the inside of the bracelet. “Beautiful girl, you can do hard things.” He reads aloud. “She—she showed me this. It’s a quote her grandmother would tell her.” His mouth is dry and he takes it from Rye to put in his pocket, determined to put it back on your wrist himself. “Let’s hope she can hang on. Just hold on, sugar. I’m comin’.”

"Whiskey. Rye." Ginger's voice in their ears makes both men's heads perk up, listening for a report from their eyes and ears. "The car registration belongs to a shell corporation owned by the Rollins family. They also own a shipping company with containers in the Brooklyn Navy Yard." She clears her throat pointedly. "Right off of the Williamsburg Bridge where we lost the car."

“Get us there now.” Jack points at Rye and starts running back to the Statesman SUV like his heels are being nipped by the hounds of hell. “Ginger, I need you to get me the specs of that building.”

"Sending them now." Her voice is accompanied by the sound of keyboard clacking as Rye and Whiskey jump back into the car, peeling back out onto Broadway to head toward Williamsburg. The heavy traffic doesn't part for them easily but Rye was chosen for this assignment specifically for his abilities as a driver.

“Ginger, is there any indication on how they know that I have another soulmate?” Jack demands, tensing the closer that he gets with every mile to the shipyard. He knows he will kill them; he’ll kill every last one of them to protect you. “They don’t seem to know I’m a fuckin’ spy.”

"I'm working on it." It isn't something that has been advertised, obviously, and Jack has kept his marks from you hidden since they first appeared on his skin. There are few people who know, most of whom have priority clearance. She's gone through all the background checks on the new Statesman employees and the places you frequent, all the men you've dated, even all the way back through the staff at The Whitney months ago who might have seen your marks on your first soulmate before the accident. Not a single red flag had risen, but Ginger hesitates for just a split second as she tries to think through more connections. There was one - just one – the newest line cook for The Rabbit Hole that makes her hesitate. "Have you ever heard her mention a man named Tripp Tanner?" Ginger asks, pulling up the file on the man once more. It's too pristine. Too squeaky clean. Too pitch-perfect. Like it's been manufactured.

Jack is ashamed to say that you’ve not been doin’ a whole lot of talkin’ around him. It’s not like he’s really encouraged close conversations. Keeping things as surface level as he could to not make it more difficult. Even though every day he aches and he hates that he aches. “No.” Though he recognizes the name, he can’t place it. “She hasn’t mentioned him. Why? Is he one of the ones she’s been…uh, seein’?” His ears burn slightly, noticing the way Rye’s eyes cut from the road to look over at him but he tries to ignore it.

"No, he—" Ginger hates that it makes her stammer, feeling like your dating is partially her fault because it started with her brother. "He's on her staff. The background check is clean and his resume is spotless. But it's too clean, so it's the best lead I have. I'm running him through Statesman facial recognition now." The Statesman database is far more complex and complete than any government or criminal database. If her gut feeling is right, it might kick up a result.

“Send me a picture of the boy.” Jack grunts, having already looked at the blueprints of the building where you might be. It’s better than you being in a random shipping container. They might never find you if that’s the case.

"His employee ID photo is coming through now." More taps come from Ginger's end of the conversation before a muffled shriek of dismay. "Shit. Jack— Tanner is from Lloyd, too. He changed his name from Rollins two years ago. Stephen Stuart Rollins the third - nickname Tripp - has a rap sheet a mile long."

“Son of a bitch.” Jack hisses, his grip on the dashboard nearly about to put an indentation in it. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t been avoidin’ her, I woulda recognized the bastard.”

"We'll fix it on this end, Jack." She promises him. "Just go bring her home."

“She hates me.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I was— I wasn’t very nice to her.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll forgive you after you save her life.” Ginger sighs, watching the dot on her on-screen map that represents her two agents speed toward the warehouse where she’s figured out you’re being held. “Stop these assholes first, apologize second. She— she thinks you hate her. That’s what she told Gabriella, anyway.”

“I don’t hate her.” Jack grumbles, feeling guilty as hell because he knows that’s what it looked like.

“I would suggest telling her that.” Even though Ginger’s voice goes soft, she’s following their movements and watching the Navy Yard security cameras. “There’s movement at the building. I don’t see her, but I’m counting…six men outside the building.”

“Good.” Jack’s voice is grim and his brows are knitted together. “Every single one of them is going in the ground, Ging. This feud ends today.”

******

There is a group of men milling about around a large brick building with the number 31 painted above the bay doors. Cars parked haphazardly nearby with doors flung open present as frustratingly casual, but the large, dark gray van from the sidewalk cam footage is nowhere in sight.

“So what are we doin’ here, Whiskey?” Rye demands, slowing the vehicle down so it doesn’t look like they are barreling into the place. ��Are we run in guns blazing or using some stealth?”

Every instinct inside him is screaming to run in guns blazing, but he can’t risk another man inside hurting you. “Shit.” He hisses. “Turn down the service road and park the fucking car.” He grunts. “We’re sneakin’ up on the bastards.”

The service road runs behind the old abattoir buildings and Rye tucks the car out of sight so he and Whiskey can arm themselves out of the trunk before coming up on the group of abductors. “Three doors on the blueprint.” Rye murmurs, tucking a Bowie knife into the sheath on his belt. “Those buildings are big, we gotta be methodical.”

Jack finally shucks the flight suit, changing into his standard jeans and a button up with a sports coat. His double six shooters tucked into their holsters and his electric whip and lasso tucked into his belt. “They are going to keep her somewhere small, like an office. Probably have her tied to a chair, the bastards.”

“I’m followin’ your lead.” Tucking a few throwing knives into the hidden pockets of his jacket for good measure, Rye nods for Jack to step out first. This is his operation and Rye will do what he needs to keep him covered.

He moves silently, deciding that he will pull his weapons later to get as close as possible without seeming suspicious. Crouching low enough that his knees protest, Jack skirts the edge of the loading docks and edges towards the northeast door. The one farthest away from the group out front.

There is no guard at the northeast door. The bastards obviously are either overconfident or underprepared, and Rye picks the padlock in record time to let Jack get inside with minimal noise. No alarm sounds, no person is alerted. It looks to be a storage room, and the two men pass through it easily to find a claustrophobic hallway waiting for them beyond the interior door.

There’s a muffled sound, Jack tensing and hisses under his breath when he recognizes the sound of screaming through a gag. “Fuck.” He murmurs, imagining all sorts of horrible things. “That way.”

The room where the noises are coming from is non-descript now, empty except for some card tables and chairs, and the remains of a meal spread out with some discarded firearms and a bag of who-knows-what open on the ground. Two large men are hunched in the center of the room. Deep, rumbling laughter rolls from them and cigarette smoke is pungent in the air as the muffled shrieks get slightly more panicked. Still blindfolded and gagged, the front legs of the chair that you've been zip-tied to almost constantly your arrival in this place have been broken, leaving you kneeling on the cement floor between the two of them. One who has decided to turn your shoulder into his ashtray, and the other who is deciding which fingernail to pull off with the pliers in his hand. Presumably to send to Jack.

“Shit, shit.” Jack hisses under his breath, the urge to rush in there nearly overwhelming but he doesn’t want to give them a chance to anticipate. Stealth is needed and he slowly starts to pull his pistols out but decides against it. He wants this to be more personal, so he reaches for the whip and lasso.

“I know, I know.” Rollins drawls, holding onto your left hand to inspect your fingernails. “Jack likes his girls done up, so not being able to have all your nails painted is gonna disappoint him.” He tuts, finally deciding that your pointer finger mail is long enough to get a good grip on with the pliers. You’re screaming and crying again after a few hours of putting on a brave face and he’s enjoying it. “If ya like I could just cut off the whole finger? That might be more fun for everybody.”

“More fun if you get the fuck away from her and face me like a man, Rollins.” Jack bursts through the door and squares up, his eyes not even looking at you as he focuses on the man responsible. “Always knew you were a chickenshit, but this is low even for you.”

Jack? You would know his voice anywhere, even as often as you’re at odds you’ve still memorized the tone and tenor. He came. He actually came. As fast as your heart was beating before, the pace doubles now and the tears soaking your blindfold are relief. He came for you. It might not say ‘love’, but it doesn’t say ‘hate’.

The deep, rolling, evil laugh that bubbles out of the man beside you is so pleased that it makes you physically ill just to hear. Rollins, as Jack calls him, drops your hand but stomps on the back leg of the chair you’re tied to for good measure - breaking it and sending you crashing to the ground with another scream. There is no way you can see what’s going to happen with the blindfold, but at least the two men have lost interest in torturing you for the moment.

“Daniels.” The game is up and if Rollins is surprised that Jack has found out that it’s him, he doesn’t show it. Too deep into his madness and he sneers at the man in front of him. “You came with a whip?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Always knew you were a fucking idiot.”

The man who had been standing in the other side of you drops his cigarette beside you - probably hoping to burn your clothes in the process - and squares his shoulders like he’s planning to make a run at Jack but isn’t sure he’ll win.

“I’m begging you too.” Jack growls out, wanting nothing more than to have them strike first. Give him a reason to cut them into pieces with his tech. Rye moves past the door behind him, intent on taking out the others while he saves you. “Do it.”

“Begging.” Rollins laughs again, taking a step forward. “Tripp, don’t fuckin’ move. Keep a gun on the bitch until I say otherwise.” The sound of the safety of a gun clicking is now intimately familiar to you and you squirm on the ground, trying to push your chair away from it even a little, but a pressure on your ribcage stops you. It’s unmistakably a foot. And you’ve only heard the name Tripp once in your entire life - meaning the jackass you hired to your kitchen to bolster numbers now has his goddamn boot in your side. You knew you recognized that fucking voice.

“It’ll be the last fucking thing you do, Tripp.” Jack hisses, keeping his eyes on the older, more unhinged brother. “Finally gone off the deep end, huh? What’s this all about?” He doesn’t know why the Rollins boys are after you to get to him. Doesn’t understand it. He’s not run the ranch since he was in high school.

"You're a hard man to get through to, Daniels." Hank tells him, smug smirk still painted across his crooked face. "Last time I had to talk real loud to make you listen. Figured I'd have to do it again."

His head tilts, eyes narrowing slightly as he tries to figure out what he means by that. “Well, I’m here now. Whadya gotta say?”

"Y'all got something I want." And even after fifteen years, he hasn't figured out a way other than this to get it. Something that isn't criminal. "Now, the last time I made myself heard, you went off and skipped town with your tail between your legs like a spurned schoolgirl on prom night." Hank Rollins takes out his own gun, the pistol pointed directly at your head when he stretches out his arm. "But I'm sick and tired of a whole world that thinks the sun shines outta Jack Daniels' ass crack."

Jack’s entire world narrows and focuses on his words, taking them and twisting them in his mind. “The last time…” He growls. “My wife died in a fuckin’ robbery.” He hisses, fingers twitching on the whip and hovering over the button that would turn it deadly.

The way Hank Rollins laughs - the wicked, pleased, loathsome way he chortles at Jack's pain - almost makes you physically sick. "I love that you bought that," he gloats, taking another step toward the senior Statesman agent, ignoring his backup altogether if he's even taken a long enough look to see Rye in the room. "Hook. Line. And sinker. Goddamn beautiful."

“What did you do, you bastard?” His knuckles are practically white and he curls his lips back in disgust. “A pregnant woman? Why? What evil did I do to you?”

"You took what was mine." His free hand moves to his sleeve even as Jack watches him more carefully than a hawk. When Rollins rolls up his shirt sleeve, there is a scar there that is burned into Jack's memory as clear as day - Abigail was bitten by the neighbor's dog as a little girl and wore the scar for her entire life. "You brainwashed her against me. And you paraded my soulmate around town like your fucking prize, Daniels. That boy should've been mine, too."

“I wore her marks.” Jack hisses. “Every goddamn one of them and you know it! They would be gone if she was your soulmate.” He always thought Hank was insane, and this just proves it. The marks would have disappeared. They wouldn’t be there, just like they disappeared from Jack when she died. “But you mean to tell me that you murdered her because I had her and you wanted her?”

"I saved her!" Rollins snaps back, waving his gun in your direction as the rage builds in him. "The wife of some city-slicker pretty boy without the sense to keep a single fuckin' eye on the most important woman in the world. She would have been miserable bearing your heathen children and picking up the pieces of everything you ever broke."

Jack scoffs, knowing it won’t make any use to point out that he grew up in the same small damn valley Hank did. That they both worked and lived on ranches. The Daniels spread was more lucrative thanks to his Grandaddy being a smart man and the Rollins have always been a little unhinged. Hank and his younger brother being the worst of them all. “Point the gun at me, not her.” As devastating as it is to hear him talk about Abigail that way, you are the one in danger right now. His heart bursting with the need to see you safe.

"Now, c'mon." Rollins drawls, throwing his brother a smirk from a few feet away. "Don't start pretendin' you like her now. She already knows why you can't look her in the eye. Lyin' piece of shit."

Jack wishes he could see your eyes, but they are covered. All he can hear is the panicked breathing and sobs from your poor body. “Your issue is with me. She ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.”

"Cryin' over a man who can't ever love her." Tutting as he shakes his head, Rollins moves his gun temporarily from pointing at your head to Jack, but goes back again. He's having too much fun watching the man he despises twist. "You been treatin' this one even worse than my Abigail."

It’s in his chest to scream out that Abigail was his, but she’s dead and you’re here, alive and depending on him. His heart clenches and he rocks his jaw. “If you know how I’ve been treatin’ her, why take her? Why not let her go? I’m here now. You’ve got my attention.”

“You want me to let her go?” Hank Rollins scoffs to his brother and seems to weigh his options. As far as he’s concerned there’s no reason this can’t be as much fun as he likes. “I could see my way to lettin’ that happen,” he concedes with another contemptuous chuckle. “You got two options, Daniels. One is I shoot her in the head right now and you walk free knowin’ you’re the reason two innocent women are dead. But two? Two is you take her place. Right here and now. I’ll let her walk right out on outta here. Yer friend there can even get her home safe. Either way, yer signing over that ranch land and the whole business operatin’ on it over to me first.”

“Done.” The word is out of his mouth so fast he’s not even sure if he actually said them out loud. Maybe he just thought it. But then Rollins’ face cracks into a wide grin and he looks like he’s struck gold. “Let her go, and I’ll take her place.”

It may not be discernable words, but the hoarse screams coming from you now are crystal clear - pleading with him not to take your place. As much as this is the very last circumstance you would ever want to be in, as much as you cannot fathom how this absolute basket case Rollins thinks his 'plan' could ever succeed, Jack is worth far more to the world at large – and to you. So if either one of you is walking out of here, it should be him. Thrashing as much as your binding will allow, trying to toss off the foot of the man standing on you or else wiggle away from the pressure, probably a move that will end in broken bones, but you couldn't care less. Just as long as Jack stays far away from this chair.

“Let her go.” That’s all that matters to Jack right now. Getting you far away, keeping you safe. “Now.” Hank huffs and rolls his eyes, pointing the weapon at your head once more for the sheer pleasure of watching Jack’s face drain of all life. “Fine.” He grumbles, motioning to Tripp. “Get her up and hand her over to whatever city boy he has with him.” He doesn’t get to watch you die, which is disappointing, but he gets Jack Daniels and the land his family stole. It might even be better this way.

Tripp grumbles, on the verge of protesting, but he does as he's told...mostly. All he really does is kick you - still attached to the chair - over to the man a few feet away. Rye immediately drops to his knees, murmuring to you quietly who he is and that he's going to untie you, Bowie knife out of its sheath and slicing away at the ties and tape that bind you to the chair that has been your prison for the last God only knows how many hours. As soon as your ankles are free you kick your legs, trusting that this other Statesman agent is here to help but wanting desperately to get to Jack to stop him from giving your literal kidnapper what he wants. As soon as your wrists are free you shove the blindfold off your eyes and drag the gag out of your mouth, shrinking away from the light in the same breath that you scream for Jack not to give in with everything you have left in you. Which, after countless hours screaming, crying, and very nearly choking on a ball of knotted cloth, is hoarse at best.

Finally looking over at you, Jack is furious by how swollen your eyes are, how raw your voice is. He doesn’t say anything about it though. Knowing it would give Hank a thrill to know how much he pissed Jack off. “Get out of here, sugar.” There’s a lot that Jack wants to say, but there’s no time. He needs you away from this room. “You’ve got a restaurant to open, remember? Go with Rye.”

Like the nail in the top of the coffin, you reel back at being ordered away. Not a moment of gentleness or sensitivity after being fucking kidnapped by the man who is still as obsessed with his wife as Jack is. After being convinced he wouldn't come for you only to feel such soaring hope at hearing his voice, the desolation of realizing that he only came because you're a complication and that he never felt any kind of tenderness or care for you at all. It's almost reassuring, in a way. To know that you at least had the right level of expectation in the beginning is something, at least.

It isn't hard to bundle you up into his arms when you deflate, but Rye doesn't say anything about it. Only tucks you against him and helps you shuffle toward the door on weak legs. "Come on, darlin'," he murmurs, glancing back at Jack. "We'll get you fixed up right. Let Jack handle it from here."

"Sure." Even one word makes you cough, but you don't put up a fight or try to get back to him. To your fucking soulmate. After all - you have a restaurant to open. God forbid you get behind on your commitment to Statesman for any reason.

He wants to call you back, to talk to you. His heart aching with every step you take away from him, but it’s safer. He sees the glint in Hank’s eyes, he knows he’s looking for another reason to strike out. Possibly waiting until Jack talks to you to shoot you. He can’t risk that. He can’t risk you. No matter what, his soulmate – you – needs to survive.

After about four steps, Rye stops your shuffling and scoops you up, not wanting you to walk on any injuries or aggravate anything. He nods to Jack and carries you out the back door, planning on bundling you into the backseat of the SUV and then taking out the stragglers out in front of the abattoir. But you need to be safe, first.

It feels like you’ve cried every tear in your body, and this bitter disappointment is met with stony silence and efficiency of movement. It doesn’t take long to get you out of there but Rye does it carefully, promising you in low tones that everything is going to be okay from here. That you’re safe. That Jack’s going to take care of you. The last part just makes you feel hollow as you nod.

“Now you stay right here,” Rye croons, buckling you into the backseat and tapping a few times on his watch. “Ginger, I need your eyes in the car. Our girl is safe but I gotta take care of somethin’ before we clear out of here.”

“Copy.” Ginger acknowledges the request and as soon as Rye closes the doors, the entire vehicle locks and a red light above the rear-view mirror flashes on. The built-in screens in the headrests come on and you can barely see Ginger’s concerned face. “Honey, I need you to listen to me.” She urges. “It’s Astrid. The Statesman cars come equip with medical facilities for injuries. I’m going to scan you now.”

Talking hurts, with how hoarse you are, but you nod at Astrid’s face on screen and only shrink away from the bright lights - What are those? Lasers? - for a second before you remember she has never done anything to hurt you. “Everything hurts.” It’s just a whisper, but it’s there.

“I know, I’m going to make sure that you feel better, okay?” Sorrow and rage fill the Statesman tech as the images comes back to her. Multiple contusions, burns - obviously from cigarettes - two broken ribs and a fractured ankle. All of them evidence of the horrific torture you endured at the hands of those madmen. “I can have a shot administered.” She tells you through the screen, trying not to show her emotions. “Just a tiny prick and then you will feel so much better. Can I do that?” It’s important right now for you to feel like you have control. That nothing is being done to you anymore and she wants you to be comfortable.

“Sure.” You murmur, hoping it’s something like morphine or stronger so you don’t have to think or feel anything. “A-Astrid?” Right before whatever happens happens, you look up to find her eyes watching you on screen. “How…how long have I been gone? Does my family know?”

Pausing for a moment, Ginger nods. “Your brother filed a police report, this morning. After Jack went to your house when you didn’t leave for work this morning—”

“Jack came to my house?” You practically whisper it, but Ginger hears you loud and clear. “He did. You’d been missing for seventeen hours when Jack jumped into the jet to come to New York.” She confirms softly.

“Will you just…let them know I’m okay?” Whatever lie Statesman tells people, you’ll go with it. It’s just that right now you can’t wrap your head around the idea of Jack giving two shits about you enough to check on you at home - let alone rescue you. It’s too much.

“As soon as I get you feeling better, I will have the local police contact them to tell them that you are safe.” She promises, knowing that you wouldn’t want them to worry. “We’re going to bring you back to Statesman to put you in our hyperbaric healing station. Six hours in it and you will be completely healed.”

“Okay.” As long as they tell your family you’re okay, you could care less what else happens. Everything hurts, there are no more tears to cry, and it’s possible that you feel even more hopeless about Jack ever sparing you a second glance ever again. Soulmates. Fucking laughable. Whoever Abigail was, she was clearly more important and more wonderful to multiple people than you’ll ever be. “Astrid?” When you look up again she’s still watching you intentely. “Can…can you get rid of my tattoo while I’m in there?”

“Are you sure you want that?” She asks quietly, her eyes searching your face through the screen to try to get an inkling of what you are thinking. “You don’t have to make any big decisions now.”

“The scars, too. You said you could erase scars.” Let him be free. Is all you can think. Obviously nobody was exaggerating about the danger you were in, but it’s more than that. It’s how, when Jack barely spared you a single glance, it hurt more than anything the Rollins brothers ever could have dreamt up.

The silence lingers in the air, suspended between the two of you for a long moment. Ginger sighs softly. “Of course.” She murmurs, hating how broken you appear. “We will get rid of them all.”

Gunshots, unmistakable now that you’ve heard them up close and personal, ring out from multiple directions and you sink down in the back of the car you know for a fact is bulletproof - all Statesman vehicles are - out of instinct. “And Astrid?” You watch the automated needle release from the door handle of the SUV and make sure your arm is in line for the injection. “Remind me to fire Tripp.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” Ginger promises you softly. On another screen in her lab, she can see the feeds from both Rye and Jack, and the justice that is being delivered is swift and brutal. They messed with a Statesman’s soulmate, and Jack grunts in pleasure as he retracts the whip on the left screen, pieces of Hank and Tripp Rollins scattered around the room.

A clean up team will be deployed from the New York Statesman building to scrub the site. Body removal is a necessary evil of the job and Statesman has some of the best. By the time footsteps can be heard running back toward you in the car, Ginger’s injection is starting to take hold and you’re finally feeling drowsy. Adrenaline and fear have had you on high alert since you were taken, but having Astrid’s face and voice to reassure you is soothing.

Shouting your name, Jack rushes towards the SUV. The only thing in his mind has been to get to you. To make sure you are okay. He knows Rye will be alright and he needs to see you. He manages to get to the rear door before Ginger deactivates the locks and security, yanking on the handle. “Let me in! Let me in!” He yells frantically.

“She’s out, Jack.” Ginger’s voice in his earpiece comes with a sigh as she deactivates the locks and lets him into the car. “She’s hurt pretty badly so I gave her a sedative. When you get back to Statesman, get her in a medical chopper and bring her to my lab asap.”

“Oh my god.” Jack rips open the door and climbs into the back seat, finding you slumped against the other door. “What— what did they do to her?” He demands, panicked because he’s never seen you like this. Angry at himself that he let this happen. Gathering you against him, he runs his hands over your body as he pulls you into his lap.

“Nothing I can’t fix,” she promises him, not wanting to give him the full rundown of your injuries when he’s still visibly upset enough to lash out. “She’ll be okay, Jack. But I don’t want her to go into shock or accidentally aggravate an injury, and she said she was in pain. That’s why I needed to medicate her.”

“Tell me what they did to her, Ginger Ale.” Jack demands again, turning towards the screen even as he is cradling you and stroking your face.

Ginger sighs, softly again, and looks down at her diagnostic pad. Avoiding Jack’s eyes while she reads this off will probably be better. “Two broken ribs, fractured ankle, superficial burns clearly from cigarettes. Bruising, contusions, and internal injuries consistent with being beaten, waterboarded, and kicked multiple times.”

“Motherfuckers.” Jack hisses, tightening his grip on you to where you whimper in your unconscious state. Immediately relaxing his hold on you and petting your face to soothe both of you. “I should have made it take more time. I should have beat him to death with my fists.” He growls. “I’m gonna burn their fucking legacy to the ground and piss on the ashes.”

“Jack.” This time Ginger’s tone is a warning. It’s not frequently that she hears this kind of rage from him – usually only in relation to his late wife. “She’ll be okay,” she repeats. “But she’s going to need support. Mentally. Emotionally.”

“It’s my fault, Ginger!” He hisses, his own emotions beyond rage finally surfacing from the compact box he had shoved them in to be the agent he needed to be in order for both of you to get out of that building alive. “She would have been at home— it’s my fault. She asked…she asked me about my birthday and I lashed out at her.” He chokes back a sob and looks down at your face. “I didn’t protect her.”

“Then you’ll apologize. And you’ll make sure it never happens again.” Jack isn’t a man who breaks down unless the stress is truly unbearable, and as his friend Ginger has seen only a bare handful of these moments. “She wants me to remove her marks when she gets here,” she tells him carefully. “Just so you know.”

Jack closes his eyes, absorbing the meaning behind it. “She wants to be rid of me.” He whispers, knowing it’s his fault when he had pushed you away and kept you at arm’s length. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry sugar. I should have been keepin’ you close. Keepin’ you safe.”

“You can talk to her when she’s awake,” Ginger murmurs, watching Rye finish with the last of the goons on the video feed from his glasses. “I’m deploying Delta Team to sweep up. You and Rye get back to the New York building and you get her in a chopper first thing. If she wakes up before you get back, you can talk then. If not?” Ginger watches Rye running back to the SUV, so much more composed than Jack for having no personal stake in this mission. “If not, then it might be tomorrow morning. After she’s done at the lab.”

He’s not happy, but he nods. Holding you and refusing to let you out of his arms as Rye comes climbing back into the SUV. “Where’s the chopper, Ginger?” Jack demands, knowing he needs to get you home and mended.

“There’s a helipad on the other side of the Navy Yard. Five minutes from where you are. I can have them meet you there.”

“Copy that, Ginger.” Rye takes the suggestion as absolute, seeing the condition you’re in, and the car comes roaring to life a second later.

“Goddamnit, sugar.” Jack huffs, his hand smoothing over your hair as he tries to look past the damage inflicted on you to see the woman who had intrigued him from the start. “You gotta hang on. You gotta get better.” He murmurs. “I gotta lotta grovelin’ to do when you’re up for it.”

______ 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

DtRH: @haileymorelikestupid @spishsstuff @missmarmaladeth @axshadows @a-gay-cryptid @sgt-morgan @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @flowers4copper @ghost-timelord @the0racl30fd3lphidos @all-the-way-down-here @bobafvcker @ficsbynight @dinoflower @supernaturalgirl20 @xdaddysprincessxx @bobawh0re @amiee-mitch18 @darkhairedmenrule @heyyimlaynna @strawberry-f4iry @3zm33atzbuss33 @whataghost @cyber666slut @nobody-000 @eddiemunsonsgirlfriendirl @lucciolaraven @powergirlsupremacy @secondsistershelby @dreadmars @androgynoushellscape @soytomatecherry @cheesecake-massacre @mylifeisbasedonashow @idiotickiddo @tomfeltonisbae @maratheidiot22 @im-nada @everybirdfellsilent @deepdarkdelights @brokenwhitegirl384 @ur-honey-child @caseket @copperrose15 @we-could-have-been @valkyries-ride @scarletmunson @strawberriricemilk @ghost-timelord @galactigoos @floridawaters @cutiepie6473 @pinball-vance @theslytherinwriter @scorpioswonder @stankyleg05 @fxdsketches @sad-innit @coffeyorky @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @starlordsonlywife @aura626 @mistresskei @marv3lwhor3 @sadimusprimee @yourwonderbelle @sgt-morgan @spot116 @milybaby018 @loserk1nks @artfulthoughtswp @aavw @babyrunsforfanfic @faceache111 @midnight-huntress @asimpleraccoonqueen @marki-moo0 @pages89 @rawr-bitches @rebel-fanfare @soooosha @luna-is-out-there @im-sylien @timpletance @certifiedhunter @ellenmunn @littlethief78 @tinalbion @eddy-y @tikibabi @whyidkok @bearcoon1666 @littlebirdsbookshelf @a-gay-cryptid @disaster-ahaha @viridiesa @axshadows @purplerain04 @karmarouge @holycyclehomo @sainteredhood @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @the-wishmonger @theliferuiner @raptorclaw24 @asp1r1ngm1lf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @st4rl1ght444 @litholithium @tusk89 @youjustneedatherapist @nekodemon73 @iceclaw101 @lightningsface @shakespeareanwannabe @jasminemunson @spideysimpossiblegirl @wannabedaphne @sammus-white @jazzieomega @88dragon06 @ishabull @raquel-rial @tuquoquebrute @hotleaf-juice @dantaku @youokhoney @thisiswhyibleedsstuff @maximumkryptonitegladiator @jediknight122 @gadsgikklesen @movievillainess721 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @the-strawberrythief @spishsstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @haileymorelikestupid @gooddaykate @missredherring @abyssal-zone-stares-back @supernaturalgirl @winterandstars @severewobblerlightdragon @missmarmaladeth @noisynaia @saintbedelia @algressman16 @eaks0710 @mina2000alex @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @akaleelanie @mishasminion360 @amneris21 @roxypeanut @lunarcatbun 118 @frasmotic @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @lovelychaos420 @1432690 @no1pornstachefan @thegrimreaperbitch @esmeensheep @izz-ayes-world @kittycatcait219 @loveyou3000tonystark @tintinn16 @igenerallytrynottogiveagoshdarn @motheroftorches @phoenixhalliwell @the-dazzling-urbanite @coffeyorky @trickstersp8 @victorian-cherub @julissadunn @clarysthing @the-girl-that-loves-many-fandoms @mastersurf @theghostofutopia @ncsls0515 @seraphinaivy @hiyorinatsuki @ghostofaboy @yn-hamato @elfwriter1088 @sunnygrey99 @lexinicolenix @lazyemisfandomtrash @curiouskeyboard @qualityearthquakes @spider-284748 @unnecesarysstuff @sgt-morgan @love-affair-with-fandoms @lunarcatbun @kstar770 @kykymarty @supergingerlocks @hell0kittybimb0222 @a-birds-fin @loidforgerishotashell @mythical-writer @ghostshalo @avengersimaginesfan @sccialcasualty @lordecult @petalo-dropsart @i-quite-like-eating-carrots @svudetective @hasta-la-pasta-bb @manicpixiedreamgirly @destinydog @skeppycarnation @anaisweird @critters-beware @fruityforcocoapuffs @linnnniie @spideyromantic @paupeach2024 @faithxyu @fxramir @legomyeggo @jjggdfvvy @hi-my-name-is-riley @kasaikawa @lost-ghost-thats-sleepy @callmegkiddo @2dead2function @generallysleepdeprived @failingclassesinmygucciglasses @thebeesknees42 @moonmoon007 @wi0na @cilliansangel @lostinsideourminds @angstismydrug @elvenmother @bilibiche @kettlekatie @preschoolispunk @djarinsstuff @generallysleepdeprived @love-affair-with-fandoms @jay-ghostly @wowieitbeme @fanofverymanythings @josephquinnswhore @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive @djarinsstuff @justherebecausesafarisucks @cedricbitch @rebel-soldat

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Danels #Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey x reader #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au #canon typical violence #graphic depictions of violence

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our-aroace-experience · 9 months

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Recently ive been coming to understand myself as aromantic, which is so interesting because I’ve thought of myself as a lesbian for so long. I think i feel some sort of alterous/sensual/other attraction to women that im still figuring out, but now that i see myself as aromantic i dont feel the need for labels as much as i used to. Its both funny and sad that I didn’t know this word for my feelings for so long, it really would have kept me front going through a lot of grief if I had an explanation, and I’m sure the same can be said for a number of people.

Some things I remembered recently that should have really tipped me off to being aromantic when I first discovered the term years ago:

- hearing a rumor that my middle school bf might want to kiss me, causing me to run screaming and start crying in the bathroom. all the girls in my class followed me to the bathroom to make sure i was okay and my teacher freaked lol

- I almost never have nightmares, and when I do I’m never spooked by them. But I’ve had several where someone confessed their feelings for me and I begrudgingly accepted their advances because I felt bad for them and didn’t want to hurt their feelings. Everytime I woke up from these dreams I felt really anxious and nervous and would avoid the person I dreamt about until I felt better.

- actually started considering I was aro years ago! But then my (very misguided) friend told me that wasn’t possible and that I liked [name of ex gf]. I took them at their word bc im a fool lol and we dated for 10 months !

- getting frustrated when my friends had dating drama with each other, especially when it was unrequited. I can recall saying often that they should just be happy to have the other person in their life at all.

- hating most romance in movies/tv. That could be because it is often poorly written or is could be me being romance repulsed who knows lol

- the first thing that really tipped me off to being aro was that I really don’t see the hype about Zendaya and literally everyone does 💀 except me apparently

i’m glad you’ve figured it out, even if it took a lot of signs lol. i wish you luck in finding a label for your other attraction if you decide you’d like to!

#our aroace experience #aroace asks #aromantic #asexual #aroace #aro #ace #aro pride #ace pride #aroace joy!

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floram-creative · 2 years

Text

Half Anniversary Dinner Dates

Characters - Leona, Ruggie

Gn!Reader

TWs: None! (I think?)

Written by: Flora!

Edited by: Evershade and Kaigan

I'm not dead! Just extremely burnt out and so done with the world. Either way, it's my first solo post and also my first time posting in a month. I'm also working on a TWST angst story for @lonelycornergremlin that I will try to get out before Sunday. Hope you enjoy!

Leona:

Leona does not do fancy dates. Being a prince, he had access to all of the restaurants in Twisted Wonderland, and he claimed that going to them would be too much of a pain. And, to some extent, you could agree, as you were never really good at social cues. You dreaded having to deal with all of the excessive etiquette rules that would probably be needed when going to those restaurants. But there were still times that you wanted to dress up elegantly and dine at a nice restaurant, just to experience it. Even so, you knew better than to badger your boyfriend about this sort of thing, and decided to let it go.

It had been a relatively uneventful week, all things considered, (especially given that you didn’t have to give any impromptu therapy sessions to traumatized teenagers) so you hadn’t been planning on going out that Friday evening. You were heating up some leftovers and planning on finishing up an assignment before heading to bed, when you were startled by a hand on your shoulder. You half expected to turn around to see Crowley with a request to run another errand around the school, only to come face to face with Leona, in a very fancy suit, holding out an expensive looking dress.

“Get changed - we’re going out,” was the only explanation he gave you before stuffing the dress in your face, leaving you to rush off to change into the dress. After struggling to get the dress on for nearly 10 minutes, you met Leona at the entryway of the dorm, where he helped you put on a pair of shoes, which you were sure they cost more than the entirety of Ramshackle Dorm (not that the dorm was worth much in the first place anyways). Leona then led you to the Dark Mirror, asking for an address that you didn’t recognize. Stepping through the mirror, you found yourself on a street flooded with lights from billboards and cars whizzing by. What was most impressive was that directly in front of you was a giant restaurant that looked like it was taken out of a vogue magazine. To say you felt out of place was an understatement. Leona, however, did not seem to care as he walked straight into the restaurant and almost left you behind. You were forced to half-jog to catch up.

It wasn’t until you had made it to your seat, one that Leona had apparently booked, that you recognized the restaurant. It was a 5-star restaurant that had been endorsed by hundreds of celebrities, Vil included, that was known for being notoriously hard to get a reservation for. What was even more surprising was that it seemed like Leona had managed to get a reservation for a private room.

“I had tried to get a reservation for last week, but they didn’t have any tables free,” Leona explained once the waiter had left the room to grab water for the two of you. It was then that you figured out why he had gone through so much effort getting a seat. Last week had been your ½ year anniversary, and you had dragged Leona to your dorm for a nice-ish dinner together. He had acted annoyed at the endeavor, yet you knew better, and judging by the fact that Leona was wearing the bracelet you made him, you could tell he had enjoyed the night. However, you didn’t expect Leona to return your dinner by going this far with your first half anniversary. You were touched.

“Thank you Leona. It’s lovely!” you replied, falling even further for the lion man.

Ruggie:

It had been about 6 months since you had begun dating Ruggie, and you had gotten used to your bi-weekly dates by now. On these dates, Ruggie would come over to your dorm and the two of you would cuddle up together to watch a movie while eating some snacks. Not very glamorous, but it was cheap and fun, and spending time together was enough for the two of you. Neither of you had much money, so the two of you had agreed on not spending much money on each other. Even so, you felt like doing something special for your half-year anniversary. Normal restaurants and other such common date locations were out of the question due to their price.

After a bit of deliberating, you realized there was a perfect place for the anniversary: a buffet. Although buffets were not the most fashionable, they were inexpensive and the fact that you could eat as much as you want was a big plus. The only remaining issue was getting Ruggie there without him finding out about the date. Ruggie was smart, and you were sure that he would see through any surprise you tried to plan. While you could outright tell him, the chances of him saying that he wouldn’t want you to waste your money were high, and there was no fun in doing it that way. And so, you turned to the only person you could trust to help you with getting Ruggie there.

It was a Wednesday afternoon and Ruggie was tired. He had had classes all day, and he was feeling completely drained. He had hoped to just crash onto his bed once he got back to his dorm room, but Leona had requested something that Sam did not stock. He knew he had to appease Leona, so Ruggie’s only choice was to use the Dark Mirror to purchase the item from the supplier directly. It was a pain and he really didn’t feel like doing it, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. What he hadn’t expected was you offering to accompany him. Even less expected for him was the Dark Mirror dropping the two of you off onto a hustling city street. He started to check the slip of paper, where Leona had written the shop address, thinking he had misspoke, when you suddenly started pulling him towards a nice looking establishment.

It was only when the two of you had made it inside that he realized what you were doing, and by then it was too late, as you had already started piling food onto your plate.

“You can eat as much as you want–it’s my treat,” you told Ruggie, turning back to look at him expectantly. He stood still for a couple more seconds before grabbing another tray to select some food. “I guess I’d better enjoy myself then,” he grinned.

The two of you would go on to enjoy your date, and by the time it was done, you were planning on how to trick Ruggie into going on another date. Ruggie, on the other hand, managed to sneak out 5 plates worth of food, and to this day, you are still unsure as to how he did it.

#twst x reader #twst imagines #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader

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honestlywtfisgoingon · 2 years

Text

When You Weren’t Looking— pt. 11/?

PROFESSOR!OBI-WAN KENOBI x READER

PART 10

description: with obi-wan’s old love life resurfacing, anakin and padme council you about yours

warnings: language, mild spize, probably a lot of errors bc i stopped paying for grammarly premium lmao

a/n: HAHAHHA IM BACK LIKE I SAID. this can be considered a filler chapter ig, but i’ve actually had it written out for a while bc i wanted some padme and ani time but i never quite finished it so yeah

words: 2300

“Hey, kiddo!” Anakin ruffled your hair before taking the seat opposite you in the campus coffee shop.

“Anakin we’re basically the same age,” you frowned in annoyance as you batted his hand away.

“Whatever you say,” he settled in, leaning back on the little wooden chair. You just rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the little smile you tried to hide by pressing your lips together. You always tried never to give your impish friend the satisfaction of making you laugh, but of course, you always slipped up.

“Haven’t talked to you in a while. Like, actually talked, you know?” true, you’d say hi in class and sometimes he would hang around and help Obi-Wan, which you didn’t know if you could even count since it’s literally his job. That was something everyone always seemed to forget, including him, and when he wasn’t in either of those two places or doing anything that wasn’t an absolute necessity, he was with Padme.

“Yeah, you’re always with Obi-Wan anyway.” you shifted in your seat ever so slightly at his probably flippant comment. probably.

“How’s Padmé?” you smirked. If he did know about you and Obi-Wan, two could play that game. But if he didn't, your question still held a fair amount of sincerity.

anakin’s mouth morphed into a lovesick grin. At least was one relationship the two of you could talk about quite freely. “She’s really good actually, a lot of the students she councils have been performing really well. Besides work stuff though, she misses you,”

“yeah, I wish I was talking to her instead right now too,”

“wow. so I should just leave then,” he twisted his upper body towards the door feigning that he would actually get up. you responded jokingly with a little goodbye wave to send him and his bluff on their way. He repositioned himself only a second after, giving up his joke as he had more to say, “Padme’s meeting me here actually so you’ll get to see her. But I can’t stay for long ‘cause I have to grade some papers by tomorrow, which especially sucks cause all the essays are shit anyway,”

“Anakin,” you scolded him.

“You’d say the same thing too if you read them!” He pointed his finger at you in an trademark Anakin exaggeration, “They’re literally the worst class I’ve ever had. I dread every time they turn in an assignment,”

“You’re not even that harsh of a grader either,” you responded, actually considering his words.

“I know! But I can’t make it not-shit,” he wasn’t exactly wrong. you laughed at the way he threw his hands up in exasperation. “That’s more Obi-Wan’s job. He’s more sage-y,” you chuckled a little at his description of your inamorato.

“You’ll get there—and I mean that as a compliment. You’re gonna get that degree and be a bad bitch,” you joked.

“I’m always a bad bitch, let's be real,” he rolled his eyes and smirked at the same time, sass oozing from his features.

“We are bad bitches,”

“I was here first,” he countered quickly.

“Yeah but I’m Obi-Wan’s—“ You stopped. You didn't even know where you were going, but it was definitely something that would give you and Obi away.

“His what?” His brow quirked, but something about his tone made the question seem a bit more like a challenge.

“Don’t know,” you leaned back, trying (and failing) to act natural, as though your lack of ability to maintain eye contact hadn’t given you away.

“Well, you should try and figure that out.” He continued, fairly casually to your surprise. “Not that it means much,” he hesitated, “but a woman he used to be involved with is visiting this week.” You still would’ve been more concerned with his possibly knowing about you and Obi having a relationship if he hadn’t also mentioned, wait, what was her name? Kryze? He saw a mix of indecipherable emotions manifest in your features. It was understandable. How were you supposed to feel about her coming back? But in the end he didn’t want you to be blindsided. After getting no verbal response, Anakin elaborated, trying not to sound so cautious, as that might have a reverse effect and make you scared, “she used to work here. She and obi-wan were pretty close.”

“What? Why would I care about Obi-Wan’s past relationships?” You said, but your voice was small.

“Because you do.” he said it like he was stating a fact.

you gave up trying to offer another excuse when Anakin gave you a pointed look. Yes, he definitely knew. But he wasn’t going to push you.

“it’s ok. Ferus already told me about her.” you sighed.

“ferus?” Anakin’s lip curled as he sat up in surprise.

“yeah. before I knew what a dick he was,”

“could’ve told you that from the start.” He huffed a laugh, “doesn’t change anything though, I just want to make sure you’re gonna be ok,” his lips straightened just a bit to show you his genuine concern.

before you could assure him, now in slight annoyance, Padme's light voice came through the door of the cafe.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” she said, sweet as always.

“hope you’re not too disappointed,” you joked, your delight to see her painted on your face.

“oh please,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “i really am glad to see you, though,” she added as she slid into the chair next to Anakin. He hooked his hand underneath the lip on the bottom of her chair, dragging it so it was flush against his. Her cheeks were painted with a small blush at his little act of affection. You could see Obi doing the same. once Anakin had pulled Padme into a comfortable position with his arm around her, he went straight into getting her all caught up.

“I was telling her about Satine,” he said with more seriousness than you felt was necessary.

“I don't understand why you think I’d care,” you leaned your head down to massage your forehead in exasperation. you looked up when you felt a hand grab the free one you had placed on the table. Padme had reached over, showing, as usual, more tact and care than Anakin had.

“as two people in love,” she tilted her head slightly to her still technically unofficial boyfriend, who smiled wide, “we can recognize two others, especially with Obi-Wan. he’s different with you, in a good way,” she gave you a little smirk, leaning back.

“ok hold on, I don’t know about love,” you panicked as you processed her words. love? that scared you even more, and you didn’t need that right now,

“Obi-Wan cares for you, and he cares the same way most people love, that’s what we’re trying to say,” Anakin told you, earning a supportive smile from Padme. You couldn’t help it, her smile made its way into yours. The idea that he cared about you that much… And you trusted them enough to believe it. You couldn’t let Satine take that contentment and security away.

they can help.

A solid pause followed his words.

“Fine,” you said in resignation, “I’ll admit it,”

“aha!” Anakin pointed to you as though he had won, only for Padme to elbow him. you continued as he threw a hand in the air as though he could not possibly understand why she was scolding him.

“I’m worried about Satine. it only ended between them because she went away. there’s no real reason they shouldn’t be together again.” you let it all out, “and,” you exhaled, “I’m not enough. I’m just a kid.” you looked down at the confession of your insecurities.

“you’re not a fill-in.” Anakin responded firmly. “he’s known her since he was young, yeah,” he jerked his head nonchalantly, “but he’s not a kid now,” he put his hand flat on the table, yet again saying his words like fact. “He’s a big boy who takes his choices seriously and he’s not a dick to get with you while he’s still in love with another woman,” his eyes were still soft though, even as his firm tone continued to urge you to believe him. his words would’ve left you feeling a whole lot better, if only they stopped there. he ran a hand over his face and through his hair with a huff. “I can’t speak for Satine though.”

“what does that mean?” You frowned.

“it could mean anything,” he shrugged.

“Are you—“ you were about to hit this man.

“what Anakin is trying to say,” Padme recovered for him just on time, “is that Satine has been known to be…” her voice faded off while she searched for the words.

“harsh?” Anakin offered up.

“no I mean, I’ve never met her either, but, well, yes. she’s always been very stubborn, she doesn’t back down, in class and with the board.”

“oh,” your voice went a little quieter as you imagined the idea of her stubbornness somehow turning this into a battle over your Obi-Wan. well, your obi-wan for now.

“Hey, I’ve never seen him like this. I may have never met Satine, but I’ve known Obi-Wan for forever and I know that he’s never been like this.”

“Trust us, y/n. trust Obi-Wan. and more importantly, trust yourself. you know how he feels, and you know that you deserve those feelings.”

“I guess. i— I mean I’ll talk to him,” you sigh, looking put out, but you weren’t sad, just tired at the prospect of all this.

“Good,” Anakin said with a grin before snagging the pastry you had been too distracted to eat and taking a fat bite out of the flakey bread. you gasped and snatched it out of his hands, a little piece still held between his fingers, torn off when you took it back. the three of you just smiled and laughed, pretty soon falling back into normal conversation. part of you knew that Padme and Anakin were intentionally moving on so as not to leave any more room for you to overthink. oh but how they underestimated your mind's ability to make room for overthinking, no matter what.

—

“Obi,” you said quietly by his desk.

“yes?” he looked up at you from his seat, a warm smile forming from the rush he always felt from simply being near you.

“I want to talk to you,” you threaded your fingers through the silk of his hair as you continued, trying not to sound nervous.

“and I love it when you talk to me.” he smiled, placing his hands on your hips but remaining seated. your heart skipped a beat. he looked good like this, head leaned into your touch, eyes tilted up to look at you with such endearment. they would have been sweet and innocent like a puppy's if you didn’t feel the grip on your hips tighten just a bit, the hands starting to move ever so slightly. you had to snap out of it.

“no one likes a smart ass,” you tug gently on the hair still wrapped around your fingers, causing him to jump just a bit. You giggled a little at his reaction, but he recovered very quickly.

“oh but it seems you do,” he said in a lower voice, pressing a kiss to your stomach. you wondered if he somehow felt the butterflies that fluttered there. they didn’t go away though, but stayed as your nerves kicked in. he must’ve seen the look in your eyes shift, as his own did too. “what is it? truly?”

you looked up at the ceiling, letting loose a heavy breath as you prepared what you were going to say. when your eyes met his again, you couldn’t do it.

what was the big deal anyway? why can’t you just talk to him about it again? it’s just becoming all too real. I can’t let him see that side of me yet.

you answered your own circle of questions. your body responded by clearing your eyes and putting on a more pleasant expression instead.

“it can wait,”

great. you lost your nerve.

“no, my darling one, what is it?” if he had anything else to say after that, those thoughts were now skittering away as you quickly straddled him and ground hard against him immediately.

“it— can— wait,” you said each word between a kiss pressed to the column of his neck, feeling the bob of his thick swallow underneath your lips.

“you’ll tell me though, eventually, won’t you?” he wouldn’t let you go so easily, but he would never push you either. Anakin and him had that in common. he didn’t know if he could anyway, not with you positioned like this and slightly more assertive than usual— just enough to pique his interest and other things like what you felt pressing right in between your parted legs.

“of course. just— in a little.” you chewed your lip “it’s not a big deal I’m just tired,”

only a partial lie.

he appreciated your clarification so that he didn’t kill himself by guessing what earth-shattering topic you might have just been about to throw on him. if it truly wasn’t a big deal, then he would leave it. part of it hurt because you knew he believed you. could you believe him and how he said he felt about you?

I should. I do. fuck.

you were anxious and, consequently, tired. you just decided to slump into his arms and hold him close for a minute before you decided to take things in a more exciting direction. you breathed in his musk, feeling his breath cascading along your neck as he inhaled your scent. you reveled in it this time. that you could do this with him. that right now, he was yours to enjoy, and nothing could take that away. you wouldn’t even think of the possibility right now. couldn’t afford to.

fuck a satine.

with your, perhaps forced or compensatory adamance, you nipped at the skin of his shoulder, still covered by the thin light blue fabric of his dress shirt. his eyes had become a much darker blue when he grasped your face to look at him gently after your playful bite.

yes. right now he was yours.

PART 12

taglist- lmk if u wanna be added

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#star wars #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x y/n #obi wan and anakin #anakin skywalker #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan smut #obi wan fluff #padme and anakin #padme amidala #padme #professor!obi wan #star wars au #obi wan au #satine kryze

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tenebraevesper · 2 years

Text

King Shadow (The Altered Future & The Altered Character)

I told myself I wouldn’t do it. I told myself I wouldn’t touch Mobius 25/30 Years Later with a 10 foot pole,... and I still did it. It doesn’t help that, if I don’t count Worlds Collide, which I read mainly because of MegaMan, Mobius 25/30 Years Later (written by Ian Flynn) was actually the first Archie Sonic comic I have read.

Yeah, this was my first real introduction to Archie!Sonic... and it wasn’t a good first impression.

Honestly, kudos to people who like the 25/30YL storyline, but I can barely stomach it without wanting to close the comic after the first page, step back and just forget this story ever existed. So, why am I analyzing it even though I clearly don’t like it?

It is mainly to write down my own grievances regarding one particular character featured in the story - Shadow the Hedgehog.

Shadow is someone who had his ups and downs when it came to writing his character, with SEGA aiming to make him the Stock Shōnen Rival to Sonic’s Stock Shōnen Hero. While I don’t have a problem with that (and I love their rivalry), I do have an issue when they make him act like an idiot who thinks he’s invincible.

Frankly, IDW!Shadow may not be the best written iteration of The Ultimate Lifeform, but I still like him, especially since he does show to have a softer side. Same goes for Boom!Shadow, who only exists to be Sonic’s rival, but I always looked forward to seeing him show up. To me, both are certainly more appealing that the iteration I’m going to talk about in this analysis.

So, if you don’t want to read about me ranting about an iteration of a character from a comic that has been deader than dead and won’t be continued thanks to a certain someone, you’re free to leave now. This is your last warning.

As for those who stayed... You’ll be greeted with what I personally consider the worst characterization of Shadow in any media (be it the video games, comics or TV series).

You want Edgelord Shadow? This is Edgelord Shadow.

Before I start, I need to do a quick recap regarding the Mobius 25/30 Years Later story. 25/30YL is a continuation of the initial 25YL storyline written by the most despised Sonic Archie writer in the whole community, Ken Penders. If you want more information on why he’s so despised, I recommend listening to Sonic_Speed’s commentary on what had happened.

After Penders left, Ian Flynn took over as the main writer, and his first year of writing can be basically described as him doing janitorial duty and trying to fix the mess the previous writers left behind, streamlining the story and bringing it more in line with the games. He wrote some really amazing storylines, like Hedgehog Havoc and Worlds Collide, but not all of his stories were good, like House of Cards (aka the one where Sonic and Tails fight; something Ian himself acknowledged wasn’t his best writing).

One of the stories Ian worked on was the above mentioned 25/30YL storyline, aka the continuation to the story Penders wrote, and I have to ask: who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to continue 25YL? I’m not asking that because 25YL was a good story or something - in fact, it was the worst! It was so awful, so boring, with the characters just talking and doing absolutely nothing. As for the ending... What ending? There is no ending, just a metaphor for how awfully Sonic was treated at the time, being literally ripped apart.

I also have other issues with the story, but those are more subjective. For example, it just felt wrong to see Sonic be a King, be married to Sally, have kids... I know that some people don’t have issues with that, but I simply cannot see a character who has been described as a free spirit, who doesn’t want to be tied down by anything, have to deal with this.

As a side-note, I have absolutely zero issues with Sonic being a King, considering how I loved the reveal of him being King Arthur, the true King of Camelot in Sonic and The Black Knight. I guess it helps that SaTBK is also a much better story than 25YL, allowing Sonic to be who he is at his core.

So, in short, someone told Ian to fix 25YL... and it’s not good. I know Ian’s a good writer, but not even he could fix 25YL. I also sincerely apologize to everyone for what I’m about to drag you into. This was really painful to read.

So, 25YL (Flynn Edition) kicks off with establishing how King Sonic fixed the world from collapsing by travelling back in time. The result of it was the future being changed, though, and we’re greeted with this:

*stares numbly at the page*

I’m not even going to pretend I don’t know who did this for the sake of suspension. This is just ridiculous.

Shadow, why the hell did you set up a statue of Maria as an angel and made the Mobians worship her?! I agree with Tails here - this isn’t right, but for completely different reasons. The first page made me already want to close this comic and never touch it again, but alas, I must soldier on.

The comic establishes that Shadow is the current King of Mobius, with Knuckles as his enforcer, which just feels weird (and I always imagined Shadow to be more of a Knight than a King).

We then finally meet his Highness for the first time, King Shadow, decked out in full royal regalia and torturing an older Rotor. After not getting any answer, he leaves the room, and is met by OC!Echidna Lien-Da (I don’t like her), thanking her for bringing Rotor over to be interrogated.

*sighs*

Okay, this is King Shadow’s first appearance and alarms are already blaring in my head. I cannot overstate enough just how wrong and painful this feels to see and read. It’s like someone grabbed Shadow and just brainwashed him into this dictatorial and militaristic version of himself who just screams “I’m the bad guy!”.

You know what’s funny, tho? I actually don’t think that King Shadow is wrong as a concept. As a matter of fact, we already had Shadow deciding to conquer the world in the video game Shadow the Hedgehog (2005), that being in the True Dark Ending - Dark Mission (where he decides to destroy the world because he gave up on humanity), the Dark Ending - Dark Mission (where he sides with Black Doom and becomes his enforcer), the True Dark Ending - Hero Mission (where he overthrows Black Doom and decides to conquer the universe), the Neutral Ending - Hero Mission (where he is - somehow - convinced he’s an android and decides to take down the Eggman Empire and make androids rule Earth).

So, yeah, Conqueror Shadow isn’t a new concept, but the difference is that in ShtH, it is at least somewhat explained that he’s either brainwashed (either by Black Doom or Prof. Gerald) and/or has given up on humanity... or thinks he’s an android (probably still influenced by the events of Sonic Heroes, but not less weird). The point here that is that there seems to be a somewhat solid explanation to why he has snapped (and Snapcube has him decide to become the President of USA/King of Hell, and I would legit vote for him).

King Shadow, on the other hand, feels like someone flipped a switch. He just woke up one day and chose violence, and it is really uncomfortable to see him like this.

Here’s also a little tidbit I found on the Sonic Wiki:

Ian has stated that there is no official reason for why Shadow became a tyrannical ruler after killing Eggman and destroying his empire.

So, yeah, King Shadow really did wake up and chose violence.

So, to continue, after he talks to Lien-Da about “thanking” Rotor, King Shadow reveals how he cannot lose this world, and how he had done too much good for it to be stopped now.

Okay, this is actually kind of interesting. King Shadow sees himself as some sort of heroic figure, using his militaristic forces to stop any kind of conspiracies against him so he can keep on ruling. He wants to protect the planet by controlling it, which I think is actually an interesting idea.

Obviously, his rule isn’t going to last much longer, since King Sonic is back and ready to kick ass... and honestly, I’m seriously debating whether I want to show the next image, because it just gets worse.

You know what, screw it.

I bet you haven’t thought you’d see Sonic as a hobo. Neither was I. Nothing could prepare me for this. Sonic is just there, sitting, doing nothing, throwing himself a pity party.

This is so wrong on so many levels. The Sonic I know wouldn’t allow this to happen. Instead, he would run right up to the castle, kick the doors down and fight Shadow in an attempt to set things right... not this.

There is also a nice moment between him and Tails (and later a nice scene with Knuckles), but let’s skip ahead to the next part. Again, this is supposed to be an analysis on King Shadow, with some added bits that had personally irked me (Hobo!Sonic being the prime example), not a whole plot analysis like I do with IDW!Sonic.

After finding his resolve to fight back, Sonic and Knuckles burst into the throne room, finding King Shadow and Queen Sally. Now, we learn later that Sally basically married Shadow to bring some balance and stability to the kingdom, and protect it from his tyrannical rule (not seeing any success here, Sal), but I have to ask: Why? Why was this necessary? Like, I may not be a fan of Sally, but I know that she is a fighter, so why didn’t she try to lead a rebellion against Shadow? She did the same when SatAM!Robotnik was around, so did she just give up?

I mean, I understand that Shadow is pretty much one of the strongest characters in the Archie!Universe, but still... nothing? No resistance?

Oh, and speaking of Robotnik/Eggman:

It was hinted at that Shadow took down Eggman before becoming king. When writer Ian Flynn was asked how Eggman died in the Light Mobius universe, he said "Any events happening between the present and the maybe-future will be teased at best. That said, the original M25YL revealed that Knuckles vaporized Eggman and had to be stopped by Sonic. I figure the same events unfolded but with Shadow replacing Sonic."

So, I guess that’s answered. I still don’t like the execution.

Moving on, Knuckles gets Sally out of the throne room, while Sonic fights Shadow. Shadow easily dodges it, sneering at Sonic.

This is followed by Shadow throwing away his cape and beating Sonic up, telling Sonic how he’s old and past his prime, and how as The Ultimate Lifeform, he never ages... so, Vegeta moment?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

In any case, Sonic is beaten, and I’m asking again... Why? Sure, at this point, Sonic is in his 40s (still can’t believe I’m saying that, it feels so weird), but I’m pretty sure he can still fight. Hell, Shadow didn’t even use his Chaos Powers, so why couldn’t Sonic at least put up a proper fight, even if he does lose at the end?

I know that I’m just complaining here, but compare the fight above to this one:

I don’t know about you, but I prefer their fight in IDW more. Not only were they on equal footing, but this fight was less about Shadow proving himself to be superior, and more a challenge of their ideals, with Shadow insisting on killing Mr. Tinker and Sonic wanting to keep Mr. Tinker alive. Yeah, Sonic still loses (thanks to tripping on a root), but it still feels more satisfying than him being knocked down in a spin-dash, kick to the gut and punch to the face.

So, how is King Shadow defeated then?

In comes Lara-Su (to note, she’s not among my favorite characters), Knuckles’ daughter, who dodges Shadow’s attacks and goads him into using his Chaos Powers while also demonstrating her own.

Shadow throws Chaos Spears at her, which Lara-Su deflects, chanting Tikal’s prayer and using Chaos Control on Shadow, freezing him in place.

I don’t really know what to say about this. It is just... anti-climactic. Like, would Shadow really lose like this?

*shakes head*

You know what, I at least gotta give credit to Ian Flynn for trying to clean up the mess Penders left behind, but this story is just not my cup of tea. Shadow feels just wrong and Hobo!Sonic wasn’t something I wanted to see.

So, is that it? No more 25YL? No more King Shadow?

I’m sorry to inform you, but it’s not over yet. We still have 30YL and I’m still asking: why is anyone going back to this story?

I will let Sasha Cat sum up what happened:

Honestly, the expression she made about the wedding between Shadow and Sally mirrored my own. I hate it.

However, I do like the fact that Shadow is using the Black Arms logo as his symbol during the conquest. Black Doom must be proud of him.

Anyways, to sum up events, King Sonic and Queen Sally are happily married, Lien-Da and her mooks try to assassinate the royal couple, Lara-Su and Silver keep them safe, Sonic goes back into action in an attempt to deal with the situation, so Lien-Da calls for reinforcements:

King Shadow is back for Round 2! I have to admit, 30YL is definitely better than 25YL, but only by a small margin, and I still don’t like it. Not to mention, this Sonic Universe story came out right after The Shadow Saga, a fantastic arc where Shadow came to terms with who he is, internalizing how, even if he gets kicked down, he can learn from his mistakes and get back up, and formed Team Dark together with Rouge and Omega.

It is really jarring to just have King Shadow shoved right after an arc that developed his past/alternate self as a character. Like sure, here’s Shadow, who just had a moment of self-reflection, relying on his friends to help him, and here’s King Shadow, who wants to rule Mobius with an iron fist and fear.

As a side-note, tho, I like this cover. Not gonna lie, King Shadow does look badass in this pose.

Anyways, going back into the main plot, Lien-Da fills Shadow in on what happened after Lara-Su froze him with Chaos Control. Shadow is shocked that five years have passed, then walks away and tells Lien-Da to keep talking.

Lien-Da is ready to help King Shadow regain control over Mobius, but King Shadow refuses, much to her confusion (and I’m not gonna comment on the “Maria’s Wish” code; it has really uncomfortable implications), and explains how this world needs to be punished for its inaction.

Lien-Da is shocked when she sees what Shadow plans on using.

It is a glass orb filled with a green liquid, with Shadow calling out for Tikhaos. We see a shape in the form of none other but Tikal, being lonely and hungry, with Shadow promising to release her. Lien-Da pleads with Shadow not to do this.

Lien-Da tells him how she released Shadow to bring back his stern rule and to not release Tikhaos (which I assume to be a fusion of Tikal and Chaos, although I have no clue how she came to exist).

Shadow, clearly having enough of Lien-Da’s protests, asks her about the armband, which protects her from the shift in the time-line. Side note:

Ian Flynn revealed in an Ask Ian podcast that Shadow's knowledge of events in the previous timeline was due to Lien-Da's information.

When Lien-Da confirms this, Shadow just breaks it off, causing Lien-Da to vanish from existence. Okay, I didn’t like her, but this is kinda brutal. He basically killed her... or maybe she doesn’t even exist in this future?

Shadow then turns to Tikhaos, smirking as she tells her how it’s time to reintroduce her to the world. Honestly, seeing Shadow like this isn’t just uncomfortable, it’s plain disturbing. He looks like a maniac, as if something in his mind just snapped.

Tikhaos begs for Chaos Energy, which Shadow is happy to supply, removing his Inhibitor Ring and not caring anymore when he’s told that King Sonic has retaken the castle.

“Let him have it. It does him no good now.”

He forcefully feeds Tikhaos more energy than she can handle, with the echidna mooks running away when they realize that King Shadow is going to destroy them all, while Shadow remains calm, completely serene.

Again, I’m actually disturbed by this behavior. Are we sure that Black Doom hasn’t brainwashed him somehow?

Anyways, Tikhaos has turned into a complete monster resembling Perfect Chaos and is attacking the city, leaving Sonic and co. to deal with her. As for King Shadow:

He apologizes to Maria for what he has done. He tried to lead by example, but when they didn’t see it, he tried to lead by force. He was rejected. He wanted to bring peace, but the world demanded chaos, so he’ll let Tikhaos ravage the world, wash it clean and let it suffer... and when they learned their lesson, he will return to lead them to peace he desperately wanted for them.

Absolutely not a fan of this. It feels so forced, especially since the last Sonic Universe arc was about Shadow moving on. I love Ian Flynn’s writing, but this is one of the worst stories I’ve read that he had written.

And this is also the last we see of King Shadow.

Honestly, I’m glad Worlds Collide happened and changed the universe. I really didn’t want to see more of this. Not to mention, Post-SGW!Shadow is a real treat.

So, King Shadow? What are my thoughts on him now after re-reading the story?

Honestly, he’s a good concept, but the execution is awful. Even though Shadow as a conqueror exists in the Shadow the Hedgehog video game, we still know that those paths aren’t canon to the main story. The Shadow we know is a protector of the world, but he wouldn’t go this far to protect it, becoming a villain. King Shadow really comes off as unhinged and his personality switch feels like it came out of nowhere.

Again, if you like this story, more power to you, but I don’t. To me, this is the worst Shadow has ever been written. It just feels so unnecessary, so wrong... and I’m glad it doesn’t exist anymore.

If you guys want my thoughts on how I would write a King Shadow story, leave a comment and I might write down the concept for it.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch Sonic Prime. I need to clear my mind of what I just read and I just want to see Shadow trying to save the world without being a villain.

EDIT: Here’s my own take on the King Shadow storyline:

#King Shadow (The Alternate Story)

An alternate take to the Light Mobius story:

Isekai'd As My Past Self (Sonic the Hedgehog AU Story)

#Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer (Masterlist)

#king shadow #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #king sonic #archie sonic #silver the hedgehog #sonic universe #I don't like King Shadow.#sonic idw #sonic boom #sonic prime #mobius 25 years later #mobius 30 years later #Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer

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