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loslentesdepedrito · 1 year ago

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I'm Your Wife- Chapter One

Top right gif by: @uuuhshiny , bottom left gif by: @userdjarin

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Word count: 4.7k+

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Two

Chapter summary: You're filled with excitement as you share news with your husband, Jack. However, his reaction isn't what you were expecting. His hurtful and hateful words leave you reeling, causing you to reconsider your marriage. Luckily, friends and family are there to help you through.

Rating: 18+ no explicit content but I'd rather not have minors read these types of subjects. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut.

Warnings: ANGST, topics of death and mourning, language used by the characters is harsh and contains strong emotions, pregnancy, divorce, toxic marriage. (I hope I didn’t forget anything, it’s been years since I wrote this.)

A/N: Yes, I'm aware that this piece bears similarities to my first work (Jack Daniels and Frankie Morales) that I shared here. However, I only realized this after creating the graphic at the top. Oops! If you've grown tired of the Whiskey storyline, I have another piece with Dave York available!

"Jack?" You call out, anticipation and happiness filling your voice. Jack brings his head up and looks at you, his eyes reflecting the joy that radiates from you.

"Yes, sugar?" he responds, mirroring your smile with his own.

You can't help but let your smile grow wider. "I'm pregnant!"

But the moment the words escape your lips, Jack's smile vanishes before your eyes. Confusion swirls within you, and you can't understand his reaction. "No, you ain’t," he denies firmly.

You refuse to let his denial dampen your excitement. With a quieter voice, you insist, "Yes, I am."

Again, he denies your claim. "No. You ain’t pregnant." His Southern drawl carries a mix of shock and denial.

He’s got to be in shock, right? you wonder silently, trying to make sense of his reaction. He must be, you reason, which is why you decide to make it more tangible for him.

"I am. Look!" You declare proudly, pulling out the glossy black and white sonogram from your pocket, and presenting it to him.

But to Jack, it all feels wrong. He glances at the sonogram, your name on the top left corner, and the blurry white image representing the tiny life growing inside you. Overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, Jack shuts his eyes tightly, wishing desperately that this is all just a nightmare. Meanwhile, you remain over the moon, your gaze fixated on the sonogram, admiring the newly forming person you already love the most. I already love you more than words can describe. You’ll be loved so much, I promise.

In an instant, a sharp sting shoots through your right fingertips, eliciting a hiss of pain from your lips. Startled, you look down and see the crumpled sonogram on the floor. It becomes clear to you that Jack's intention was simply to drop the picture, but the force behind his action accidentally inflicted pain on your fingers. As you wince from the ache, Jack's realization dawns upon him, triggered by the audible hiss of pain that escaped you. However, the physical pain in your hand pales in comparison to the overwhelming confusion and hurt that now blossoms within you.

The sharp sting brings you back to reality, and you struggle to comprehend why you felt the need to step away from your own husband. Your heartbeat quickens, mirroring the pace of your racing thoughts, as you bend down to pick up the now-bent sonogram.

Jack has never laid a hand on you before, not even in the slightest way. You take a cautious step back, ensuring a safe distance between you. Your voice quivers with a mix of concern and hurt as you ask, "What's wrong with you?"

He shakes his head frantically, before he finally speaks, "This ain’t supposed to happen."

Confusion deepens within you, and you struggle to understand his meaning. "What... what do you mean, love?"

"This ain’t supposed to happen," Jack repeats, his voice filled with desperation.

You remain silent, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for him to offer an explanation. But his next words cut through you like a knife. "You can't be pregnant... You just can't!"

You flinch back, wounded by his outburst. The pain in his words sears through, and tears well up in your eyes. "This ain’t supposed to happen with you," he continues, his voice filled with anguish. "I... I was supposed to have a family with my wife."

His reference to his first wife, tragically taken from him years before you entered his life, shatters your heart into a million pieces. The weight of his grief and loss settles heavily upon you, mingling with your own pain. You whisper, barely audible, "I'm your wife."

The words escape your lips, your voice barely registering as a hushed murmur. But Jack's confusion echoes in his question, "What?"

"I'M YOUR WIFE!" you shout, your voice filled with hurt and frustration. "It's me! You married me!"

"I held my tongue for so long, but I can't bear it any longer," you continue, your words pouring out in a torrent of pent-up emotions. "You make me feel like the other woman like you didn't even marry me."

"You always call her your wife when I'm right next to you. And no, this isn't being dramatic or exaggerating. Did you know you've always done it? Even my own family noticed and they keep having to pull me aside to tell me about it. It wasn't just a slip of the tongue, because you always do it. That's why no one in my family likes you!"

Tears stream down your face as you pour out your heart, laying bare the insecurities and pain that have haunted you for the entirety of your marriage. "I never told you because I didn't want to seem selfish or disrespectful, but you're the one who only thinks of himself and has no respect for me.”

“¡Dios mio!" You exclaim in exasperation. "I told myself I was going crazy for feeling this way. You said it when we were dating, then when we got engaged, and foolishly, I thought you would stop once we became husband and wife. But no."

"When we were dating and talked about our future, I made it clear that I wanted to get married and eventually have children. You knew this! If you didn't want the same things, we should have parted ways, but you said you wanted it too." You say, your voice choking with emotion.

Your voice cracks with frustration and heartache as you continue, "Well, I guess you needed a big wedding to consider me your wife, huh?” You let out a bitter chuckle, the sound carrying a tinge of despair. “You couldn't even give me the wedding of my dreams. I always wanted a celebration with all of my family, and you disregarded my wishes. Fuck, I should have seen this coming! You didn't want a big wedding to overshadow your perfect one, right?" Your words are filled with bitter resentment as you yell out your frustrations.

"YES!" Jack explodes, his own emotions coming to the surface. "I didn't want to replace her memory with you! My first weddin’ was perfect, and nothin’ could have beat it. So, why should I have tried to replicate it with you? I still love her and my boy so much... I tried with you, but it just ain't right! You need to get rid of it. Y'can't keep goin' through with it. She's the love of my life, and you..."

His words slice through your heart, leaving you in pieces. You collapse into sobs, your entire being overwhelmed by the weight of his contempt of you and the anguish of his lingering love for his late wife. "Your first wedding or your first wife?" You choke out through your tears.

"Marrying you was the worst decision I ever made." Jack's words hit you like a punch to the gut, intensifying your heartbreak.

Why the hell did he marry me then? Echoes in your head, tormenting you with unanswered questions and self-doubt.

"Then why am I still in your life?" you manage to say, your voice barely audible as you struggle to understand why he hasn't let you go if you're such a disappointment to him.

"Because you're needy and fuckin’ clingy, and you won't let g-" Jack's words are abruptly cut off by your interruption.

"Don't," You interject. "You don't have to finish that sentence." You say through the knot in your throat. "I know where I'm not wanted. Don't worry, I won't force you to stay in this so-called marriage, and I will not force you to be my child's father.”

Your voice trembles with a mixture of sadness and determination, as you gather the strength to continue. "I can't keep being the only one fighting for this relationship. The only one who wants to be in this marriage. I won't even suggest therapy. Remember the last time I asked you to go? You wouldn't fucking talk to me and kept going to her grave and god knows where else! For two weeks! Do you have any idea how I felt? I can't keep doing this. I won't compete with a ghost. Not anymore. I'm done.” After those two weeks, I don’t know how I believe we could have worked through his grief. I just.. I didn’t know he didn’t love me...

The words hang in the air, heavy with finality. You take a deep breath, mustering the strength to continue. "I'll contact my lawyer and initiate the divorce proceedings. The papers should arrive soon. I won't ask you for any financial support for my child. So, just do one last thing for me — I mean, you've never really done anything for me — but sign the papers as soon as you receive them, so I can stop being the wife you despise. I'll stay somewhere else tonight, and people will come tomorrow morning to move all my personal belongings. Anything we purchased together will be sold, and the payment will be spl- You know what? I don't have time for this. My lawyer will clarify everything." The words leave your lips with a mix of sadness and determination, the image of a shattered dream painted across your mind.

Through tear-filled eyes, you gather your strength and make a decision. It's time to take control of your own happiness, to reclaim your sense of self-worth. With a trembling voice, you declare, "I won't let myself be treated like this anymore. I deserve to be with someone who loves and cherishes me. I won't settle for anything less."

You feel drained, your heart shattered, but you know you need to leave. You put the sonogram in your purse and turn to head out, but not before you deliver a final blow. "When someone asks about your wife is, you can say her name. You already do."

Jack stands frozen, his mind filled with regret and the realization of the irreparable damage he has caused. Part of him wants to chase after you, to beg you to stay, but he remains rooted to the spot, consumed by guilt and sorrow. The room feels empty and suffocating, the shattered dreams and broken promises hanging heavily in the air.

Jack's eyes snap open to a sudden commotion reverberating through the walls of his house. His Statesman training kicks in, and he springs out of bed with the speed of lightning. The adrenaline coursing through his veins fuels his urgency to investigate the source of the disturbance. Hastily, he descends the stairs, his mind racing, and his heart pounding in his chest.

As Jack reaches the ground floor, he is met with an unexpected sight. A decent group of movers, your family, and your friends filling the space. Instantly, his gaze falls upon your cousins, aunts, uncles, and fucking Javier Peña. Jack's blood boils with a deep-seated hatred for Javier.

Javier had been your best friend during your early childhood, but with a move across the country, you never saw him again. Until, five months ago, when everything changed. You and Jack were out grocery shopping when you reached for a package of chocolate abuelita. In that split second, a large hand enveloped yours, jolting your attention towards a deep voice that called out, "Cariño?" The whirlwind of emotions Jack experienced was suffocating. He watched, consumed by jealousy, as you recognized the man before you. Witnessing the radiant expression on your face, he saw you embrace Javier and ecstatically exclaim, "Javi!" The sight of your reddened cheeks when you released him, burned a searing image into Jack's memory. Despite Jack’s language barrier, he observed how animatedly you conversed with Javier. Although he couldn't understand most of the conversation, he caught the moment when Javier mentioned that he was only in town for one day and then swiftly requested to exchange contact information. Concealing himself around the corner, Jack surreptitiously observed the scene of you giving Javier one last hug, unable to tear his eyes away.

Right after you parted ways with Javier, you excitedly recounted the encounter to Jack, oblivious to the torment it caused him. You spoke about your long-lost friend Javier, sharing every detail, and Jack listened, pretending it was all fresh information. Before the day was over, you informed Jack that Javier had called to tell you he accepted a position at the local police department and asked you to meet him so you could catch up.

The memories flood back for Jack, his resentment towards Javier intensifying. He vividly remembers the christening of one of your second cousins, a significant event, and one where your family showered Javier with adoration. It was another moment that added fuel to Jack's growing disdain for him.

Now, here he stands, witnessing Javier Peña loitering around his home, overseeing the packing of your belongings into cardboard boxes. The sight ignites an inferno within Jack, further fueling his abhorrence for the man everyone loved.

In a flurry of activity, everyone rushes about, their movements brimming with urgency. Oblivious to Jack's presence, they fail to notice him standing at the bottom of the staircase. Suddenly, your friend, colleague, and lawyer, Raul, approaches Jack, breaking through the chaos. The weight of the forthcoming conversation settles heavily upon Jack as Raul addresses him, his tone grave, "Mr. Daniels, we have some matters to discuss."

Jack tenses, fully aware of the impending storm that awaits him. Every word uttered by Raul feels like a stab wound, each syllable a reminder of the impending divorce. The word echoes relentlessly in his mind, sending shockwaves through his entire being. Jack longs for a blink, a mere blink to make all of this vanish, to have you by his side once more. Deep down, though, he knows he cannot be the father your child deserves, and he fears you'll never take him back after the hurtful words he unleashed. Helplessly, he stands there, his emotions raging, as every piece of your shared life is stripped away. Clothes, jewelry, pictures, shoes, bags, kitchenware, even the goddamn fridge magnets—every item is callously placed into clear bags and then transferred into their respective brown cardboard boxes, their labels written in bold red letters.

The pain intensifies as your favorite cousin removes your wedding pictures from the wall, carelessly flipping them upside down before removing them from their expensive frame, and then unceremoniously tossing only the pictures into a box labeled 'QUE ARDA.' Jack wonders what you plan to do with those cherished memories. He makes a mental note to translate that phrase later, his mind cluttered with thoughts and emotions.

As the relentless dismantling of memories continues, Jack withdraws into the sanctuary of your shared bedroom, seeking solace amidst the chaos. The weight of despair presses upon him, urging him to preserve a fragment of what once was. With trembling hands and a heavy heart, he surreptitiously slides one cherished wedding photograph beneath the protective shelter of his underwear drawer. It rests there, hidden from prying eyes, a bittersweet reminder of a love that now hangs by a thread. The image captures the essence of your wedding day, a moment frozen in time where love and hope intertwined. It represents a fleeting glimpse of happiness that Jack yearns to hold onto, to cherish, even if only in the confines of his solitary existence. As his eyes settle upon the drawer, a surge of emotions courses through his veins, reminding him of the role he played in their unraveling.

In the depths of his soul, Jack confronts the painful truth that he bears responsibility for their crumbling relationship. Regret claws at his conscience, its grip unyielding. The yearning to hold onto the photograph, to clutch onto the semblance of what they once had, tugs at his heartstrings. It is a bittersweet reminder of the love they had, now tainted by his own shortcomings and mistakes. To Jack, the photograph is a painful reminder of what he has lost, a reminder that this photograph, like their love, now resides hidden away in the depths of darkness. I did love her, I still do… he finally admits to himself

But even as he acknowledges his fault, the reality of their situation remains unchanged. The impending finality of divorce looms before him, a painful reminder that holding onto faded illusions will not resurrect her love. With a heavy sigh, Jack turns away, unable to escape the weight of his actions and the consequences that now unfold.

Stepping back, Jack's eyes lock onto the figure of Javier, approaching the room with purpose. Clutching a box labeled 'ROPA,' the weight of past joys and sorrows, Javier carries an unmistakable yellow envelope securely tucked beneath his arm. The sight sends a surge of conflicted emotions coursing through Jack's veins. There, within the confines of that envelope, lies the final decree that will sever the bonds his marriage once held.

Jack wrestles with conflicting desires. He longs to keep the photograph close, to savor the image that once symbolized their dreams and aspirations. Its presence would serve as a evidence of the love they once shared. Yet, the impending finality of divorce tugs at his conscience, reminding him of the futility of holding onto a fading illusion.

His moment of introspection is abruptly interrupted by Javier stepping into the room, "We just need this room, and then we're done," Javier's voice cuts through the heavy air, each word dripping with finality. He strides past Jack with deliberate intent, their shoulders colliding in a jarring collision. It’s a calculated move, a manifestation of tensions and unspoken grievances. The impact reverberates through Jack's being, jolting him with a surge of mixed emotions that threaten to overwhelm him.

Javier's voice pierces through the silence, demanding Jack's compliance. "Oh, and sign this," he commands, holding out the document that seals their separation. Jack's heart sinks further, aching with the weight of his mistakes and the harsh reality of his actions. He realizes that his choices and his inability to fight for their love have led them to this precipice of destruction.

A whirlwind of emotions swirls within Jack as he struggles to maintain composure. He longs to retort, confront Javier, to defend himself against the accusations that echo in his mind. But the fear of breaking down, of exposing his raw vulnerability to his nemesis, forces him to swallow his words and bury his pain beneath a façade of indifference.

Suppressing his emotions, Jack forces out a strained response. "I'll go get a pen," he mutters, his voice betraying the cracks in his armor. Of course, he notices a pen casually protruding from Javier's pocket, but doesn’t acknowledge it. Jack's intentions are twofold - to avoid indebtedness to Javier and to steal a fleeting moment of solitude, where he can gather his shattered pieces and shield his vulnerability from prying eyes.

"No need," Javier replies, retrieving a black fountain pen from his crimson shirt. "Here."

Jack accepts the pen wordlessly, turning away from Javier. A wave of emotions washes over him as he approaches the smooth surface of your cherished vanity. Its polished veneer reflects the dim light in the room, casting a soft glow that dances upon the surface like distant stars in the night sky.

As he places the envelope down, he can't help but notice how out of place it looks amidst the serenity of the vanity. The contrast between the cold, impersonal paper and the warmth of the polished wood is sharp. It's a physical manifestation of the turmoil raging within Jack's heart, a stark reminder of the shattered dreams and promises that now lie in ruins.

His attention is momentarily diverted, his ears pricking up at the sound of hangers clanging against each other in the closet. Javier's intrusion into this intimate space feels like an invasion, a violation of the sanctity that once existed between you and Jack. The echoes of the hangers serve as a painful reminder of how swiftly everything has unraveled, leaving him feeling helpless and adrift in a sea of emotions.

The entrance of more voices into the room disrupts Jack's already tumultuous thoughts, shattering the fragile stillness that once enveloped the space. Amidst the chaos, a distinct sound catches his attention—an unmistakable rustling of a bag. He turns, his gaze drawn to one of your uncles holding a storage bag. Its contents hold a precious piece of your shared history, the short, simple white dress you wore on your wedding day. The bag appears relatively small, but it carries an immense weight that lodges itself as a hard lump in Jack's throat.

A rush of memories floods his mind, triggered by your words uttered just the night before: "You couldn't even give me the wedding of my dreams." The sting of truth reverberates through his being, for he knows deep down that you were right. You had shared your dream for a celebration surrounded by all your loved ones, but he had selfishly protested. It was never a matter of financial constraints, as both of you were financially stable, but rather his fear of overshadowing the memory of his first marriage. The image of your tear-streaked face flashes before his eyes, when he said he “didn’t want to make a big deal about the wedding," a haunting reminder of the pain he inflicted upon you with his own demons.

His heart aches as he realizes that you had ultimately surrendered, selflessly agreeing to a courthouse wedding to avoid further conflict. There were no grand gestures, no best man to stand beside him, and only your parents as witnesses. The weight of his own choices and the consequences of his actions press heavily upon him, like a heavy stone lodged in his chest. Regret engulfs him, his remorse magnified by the sight of your dress being packed away, a symbol of the dreams he shattered and the happiness he denied you.

Jack sees your uncle place the storage bag in the 'QUE ARDA' box he noticed earlier, and he knows he will never see that dress again. Unable to bear the weight of these memories any longer, Jack lowers his gaze, seeking solace in the downward cast of his eyes. The room buzzes with activity as more of your possessions are packed away, each item serving as a painful reminder of the life he once shared with you. The anguish wells up within him, threatening to consume his fragile composure. He longs to shield himself from the mounting pain, to retreat into a fortress of emotional detachment, even as his heart aches with the knowledge of the devastation he has caused.

Jack knows he must face the inevitable. He doesn’t want to, but he knows he doesn’t have another choice. He didn’t love you as he should have. He wasn’t a husband to you in the truest sense. Reluctantly, he opens the envelope, gingerly withdrawing the papers contained within. The bold letters of "Decree of No Fault Divorce" sting his eyes, and tears threaten to spill onto the pages. A part of him wants to let them flow freely onto the papers, to show you just how deeply this affects him too.

His gaze traces the contents of the documents, fixating on your initials, your signatures, and the relinquishment of parental rights. He shouldn't be so close to letting out a sob at the sight of everything laid out. The pain is overwhelming, almost suffocating. He had said that he didn't want to be a father to your child, screaming those hurtful words at you. This is what he wanted, isn't it?

Thoughts whirl in his mind as he contemplates sending the papers to a lawyer, as your lawyer had suggested. But he doesn't want to prolong your agony. He senses your urgency to sever ties with him. He doesn't want to contest the division of assets, knowing that what rightfully belongs to you should remain with you. He reads a statement noting that while you're not asking for child support, he understands if the court mandates it.

With a heavy heart and trembling hand, Jack signs his name on the designated line next to your signature. By the time he surrenders his parental rights and agrees to everything else, his hands have gone numb.

Lost in his thoughts and emotions, Jack is unaware of the activity in the room until he notices your lawyer approaching him. Raul's presence jolts him back to reality.

"Very well. I will expedite these papers," Raul states, extending his hand to collect the envelope.

Jack hesitates, his grip tightening on the document, reluctant to surrender it. In fact, a surge of defiance pulses through him, urging him to tear it into countless pieces, to feed it to the pigs, and restore all your belongings to their rightful places within the sanctuary of your home. But he knows he must suppress these rebellious impulses. Reluctantly, his fingers loosen, and he extends the envelope, a mixture of sorrow and resentment coursing through his veins. The burden of the decision he made hangs heavy upon him, a haunting reminder of the choices that have led to this painful moment.

Unexpectedly, Raul reaches into the depths of his dark gray suit pocket, retrieving a small black box. Jack's heart clenches in recognition, knowing all too well the contents that lie within.

"Here is my client's wedding band and diamond ring. She wanted to return them to you." Raul informs him.

The box becomes a symbol of shattered dreams and promises, a vessel holding the remnants of the love that once bound them together. It serves as a perfect reminder of the life they had envisioned, now irrevocably altered.

The gravity of the situation bears down upon Jack's weary shoulders as he gazes at the box, his mind flooded with a whirlwind of emotions. It is a bitter pill to swallow, suddenly acknowledging the pain he has caused and the irreversible damage inflicted upon the once-vibrant tapestry of their relationship. Regret seeps into every pore, intertwining with the threads of sorrow that bind him, leaving an indelible mark upon his soul.

Jack's fingertips tingle with a mix of trepidation and resignation, for in surrendering the envelope, he recognizes the finality of their life together.

With a heavy sigh, Jack reluctantly releases his grip on the envelope, its transfer an act of surrender and acceptance. The bittersweet taste of resignation lingers on his tongue, a poignant reminder of the love that once burned brightly but now smolders in the ashes of what could have been. The echoes of his unspoken regrets reverberate through his being as the envelope changes hands, sealing their fate.

Javier's voice pierces the silence, "Ya está todo" ("It's all done"). Without a single word directed at Jack, everyone exits the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Your family and the movers pick up the boxes and load them into a truck that will carry them away, transporting them to a place where you can begin anew, free from him.

The sound of the door closing echoes through the nearly empty room, and Jack retrieves his phone, launching the translation app. He enters the phrase "QUE ARDA," and his stomach churns as he reads the translation of what you intend to do with your wedding items and the pictures you once cherished: "LET IT BURN"

Overwhelmed by emotions, Jack collapses onto the bed in the nearly bare room, tears streaming down his face. The weight of his actions and the consequences of his words crash down upon him, suffocating him in remorse and regret. He yearns for a way to turn back time, to rectify the pain he inflicted upon you throughout the years. How did she keep up with everything I put her through? He asks himself. But he knows it's too late. All he can do now is bear the burden of his mistakes and hope that someday, somehow, you can find it in your heart to forgive him.

In the depths of his being, Jack understands that the time for desperate gestures and sentimental hopes has passed. It is a painful admission, an acceptance that their love has slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. And as he looks at his underwear drawer, the image etched into his memory, he carries the burden of his own fault, knowing that he didn't want his wounds to fully heal, which, in turn, caused your own wounds.

Extended note: (Repeating from my previous Dave post from yesterday, because I believe there isn't much overlap between Jack and Dave fans. So I'm sharing this here as well.) As I mentioned in my initial post, I have been writing fanfiction for a long time. However, I recently decided to start sharing some of my work. English is my third language, and while I have experience writing and publishing grants, research papers, proposals, and so on, it’s nothing compared to fanfiction and erotica. Also, I have always had a team to revise my work, so this is definitely outside of my comfort zone. With this being said, I apologize for any and all mistakes because if I read this over, I’ll overthink and not post.

I don't know when the next part will be up because I like to create dividers and the image displayed at the top of the post. I'm not quite sure what to call it—Collage-like manner gifs? Banner? Oh, and I'm horrible at graphic design, so it took me an embarrassing amount of time to create the ones included here.

If you've read this far, thank you, and have a great day 🤎

Please feel free to comment and reblog! (If you would like to, of course :)

#angst #jack daniels x female reader #Jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels angst #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels x you #kingsman fanfiction #Jack daniels #agent whiskey #no y/n #javier peña #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #not rpf #fic: iyw #loslentesdepedrito's writing #my writing

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nattinatalia · 2 years ago

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Jack Harlow x Reader : Hospital Visits

A/N : I guess I have to remind you that I’m not a writer and I mainly do Instagram AUS. So to the anons that left me some pretty wild things with my last “fic”, don’t read if you don’t like. 🫶🏻😘

“Dude he’s going to flip.”

Clay nods “I know but he was already on stage.”

“Why didn’t she call any of us?” Urban asks.

Neelam shrugs “She was blowing up his phone and you know I usually have it so I can record for him while he’s performing, so I called her back and that’s when she told me.”

“You do know he’s going to want to go home for this right?”

Neelam nods “I do but he’s not going to be able to. He’s booked, he can’t leave.”

At that moment Jack is walking backstage after his performance. “What’s going on?”

“Y/N called, everything is ok though so don’t worry.” Neelam tells him.

That has him worried in an instant “What happened and where’s my phone?”

“Mia got pushed at school and she broke her arm.” Clay answers.

“WHAT?” He snatches his phone from Neelam’s hand and starts calling you. “She’s not answering.”

“She told mom they were still in the waiting room, so she’s probably not getting any signal in there.” Clay reassures his brother.

“Okay, let’s go, I want to be there before Mia gets in.”

“Jack, wait, you can’t leave just like that, you have an appearance tonight.” Neelam tells him, getting a bit annoyed at him.

Jack stares at her, “You’re crazy if you think I’m making a club appearance when my daughter is laying in a hospital bed with a broken arm.”

He then turns to look at his friends and brother. “You two can stay here, I’m going to see my daughter.” And he walks away, his security team and Urban behind him.

“You and KY go to the club if you want, but you should’ve known my brother wasn’t going to sit still, not when it concerns his family.” Clay says and follows after his brother.

Just then Urban walks back in, “Thank fuck you’re staying, you host the club for him.”

Urban chuckles “Nee, that’s my goddaughter, no way in hell am I staying here.”

*********

“Mama, where’s daddy?”

“He’s working baby, I left him a message so he’ll probably call us when he’s done performing.”

She sighs “But I’m scared and I want him here.”

You smile sadly at her, “I know mama, but everything will be okay I promise you.”

She nods “Okay.”

You and your daughter were currently in the emergency room. She would be getting surgery because she broke her arm in the playground.

Well that’s putting it lightly, she actually got pushed down the slide and it resulted in a visit to the emergency room in which they told you she indeed has a broken arm and will need surgery.

“How will I eat or play with brother mama? I need my arm.”

“It’s not a forever thing Mia, you’ll heal and your arm will be back like normal.”

She groans “But that’s forever.”

You nod. “But that means lots of cuddles and movies in bed.”

She smiles, “I guess that sounds fun.”

“You’re being brave bug, I’m proud of you.”

“It hurts though.”

“I know baby, hopefully they call us soon.”

Twenty minutes later and a run to the vending machine you were getting annoyed that they haven’t called for your daughter. As much as you want to go ask when they’ll get to your daughter, you have to also be understanding and wait until there’s room, or until everyone who has an appointment gets attended first.

“Mommy, me duele.”

“I-“

“Harlow? Mia Harlow?”

You stand once you hear them call your daughters name. “Oh let’s go honey, it’s time.”

******

Two long hours later, your daughter was out of surgery and in her hospital room. She was currently sleeping, but the doctor told you she would wake up soon.

“Hi Mrs. Harlow? Little one has some visitors.” A nurse comes popping her head in and opens the door.

You’re confused because you weren’t waiting on anyone since your mother in law had your son for the evening.

“Who is-“ you don’t finish your words because the door gets pushed open and in comes your husband, your brother in law, and your compadre. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We rushed here for the princess.” Clay says

You nod “I see you also made a pit stop.” You look at the balloons and teddy bears. “She’ll love that.”

“Jack wanted to buy the entire gift shop but somehow there’s a limit on balloons per person here.” Urban jokes.

You smile and go up to your husband. “Didn’t you have to host a club tonight?”

“Like I told Neelam, I wasn’t going to go to a club when my daughter was in here.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well?”

Clay scoffs “She’s acting a bit crazy as of lately, she needs to relax.”

“Wait, but how did Mia get hurt?” Urban asks, he’s currently putting on some gloves and going towards the bed and checking on Mia.

“Stop messing around.” Jack tells him.

“The school called me, told me Mia was hurt but that it wasn’t severe. When I got there Mia was crying and clutching at her arm.” You look at Jack. “They didn’t even tell me she was pushed, I asked Mia what had happened and she said a boy kept bugging her since the morning, she told him to leave her alone, she told her teacher but I guess the situation wasn’t handled correctly. The boy decided pushing her down the slide was something he had to do for tattling.”

Your husband shakes his head and goes to lay next to Mia, careful not to hurt her. “I guess moving schools or getting homeschooled should be something we talk about later.”

“Babe no, she’s a child, she should have a childhood. We can go talk to the school, but if it makes you feel better changing her schools, then we’ll do that. But that’s also something we need to talk to her about.”

He nods “Was she scared?”

“She just wanted you, but she understood that you were working.”

Your daughter starts stirring in bed waking up. “Hi baby, cómo estás? Cómo te sientes mi vida.?”

She looks around the room, then to her left and gasps “Daddy?” Then she looks to her right and smiles. “Nino Urby and Tio Clay.”

“Hi baby.”

“Hey princess.”

“Hi Mia bug.”

“How are you feeling baby?” Jack asks his daughter, brushing her hair out of her face.

“It hurts a little.” She then lifts up her arm to look at her cast. “Ohh, pretty color.”

“That is a nice purple huh?”

She nods “My favorite color daddy.”

“I know and look, we got you balloons and teddy’s.”

She smiles “Thank yous.” She then looks up at Jack who’s still laying next to her. “You gonna work daddy?”

He shakes his head. “Nope, I'm going to stay until my baby feels better. Then we’re going home and watch all your favorite movies.”

She gasps “And cuddles?”

“Oh, most definitely. We can never forget about cuddles, and we’ll even use those fluffy blankets your mama has in the closet.”

“With the lions and zebras?”

Jack nods. “Anything my princess wants.”

She smiles at that. “Nino and tio go with us too?”

“You got it.” Clay answers her.

“Only if I get the fluffiest blanket and get to cuddle with you.” Urban answers.

“But I want to cuddle with daddy and mama.”

“Fine but then I’m next in line for some Mia cuddles.”

“Deal.”

**********

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#jack harlow #jack harlow x yn #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x reader #jackman thomas harlow #urban wyatt #Jack harlow fic

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rhymingtree · 1 year ago

Text

As promised. Here I aaaam! I vow never to be late for any more releases (at least until the break ends). I'm just so glad school is over and I get to do fun things without worrying over deadlines. 😌😌

Time for my cathartic suffering to recommence.

They’d planned on closing her in, tightening their circle until she was trapped in their line of sight.

She's gotten very good at squeezing her way out of tight circles. I thought they'd know that by now.

Literally it doesn't matter how much tighter the circle gets, she has either squeezed out of it or she just cuts through.

— “You wanted to play a game of death and destruction, eh, Doc?” — Bucky flinched, the voice shooting through his head at the same time a headache pierced behind his eyes. A wince rocked through him at the sound. He bowed his head, avoiding the sun as it broke over buildings.

hmmmm what

Now is a very not good time for good ol Soldat to be making himself known

Who the hell was that?

bro its your giiiirl

“You need some sleep.”

you don't get to tell him what he needs and doesn't need, oliver

Ooh Nat is doing some very stressed out detective work

I mean, she's always doing stressed out detective work, but now she's super stressed

this whole ordeal is giving me trust issues too. Which is a lot considering I already have trust issues.

I love how absolutely oblivious Sam is.

And everyone bullies him for it. It's okay though. he'll get there.

oooh they're figuring something out

“Where are you going?” “Away from you,” Sam said, “You’re gonna get me in trouble. Again.”

Im sorry Nat I laughed at your expense

Yes Nat, you're onto something.

Come on and figure it out, the more the merrier.

If merrier was the right feeling.

YEAAAH SPIDERMAN

And... the New York... Shadow?

Omg I forgot his name

His smile widened as he knelt to unlace his boots before he silently kicked them off and crossed the room in a pair of strides as he tossed off his mask. He was under the blanket before he could blink, wrapping his arms around his husband as he slept.

They're so fucking cute.

“You’re back late,” Duke croaked through half-lidded eyes. A smile curled to his lips as Jack pressed a kiss to his jawline. “Early,” he hummed lowly, “It’s early.”

My excuse when I go to bed an hour before sunrise

“I’ve missed your eyes. Fuck me, they’re beautiful.”

I'm going insane about this

Am I envious and awed by the connection and unmoving love and affection these two share with each other that is a perfectly kept constant in the entire series? Yes. My jaw is on the fucking floor.

Am I terrified that all of this is going to amount to one of them dying or getting hurt or getting brainwashed (as you have threatened to do you devil) and tainting every happy memory I (and they themselves) have with blood and pain and destruction? YES ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY

These two make me cry.

When I finish this chapter I'm going back to their wedding so I can have a proper weep.

The sticky one EW

“You’re Spider-Man’s sidekick?”

Yes, Jack the full grown, adult, married, taxpaying(???) man is the 15 year old's sidekick. Ain't the craziest thing I've heard.

He was older…But Spider-Man had been a superhero for longer…right?

Bro you've been fighting bad guys in New Orleans and beyond before Peter even lost his Uncle Ben. 😐 You've got seniority. It's fine.

After weeks of chaos in his head and physically around him, it was like he’d finally figured out how to find peace. Even if his brain was going a million miles a minute—even if all his senses were picking up things he never knew existed—the instant he was with his husband, it all slowed down. And everything made sense. Even in the unfathomable, unpredictable world they had been thrown into, they made sense.

Right yeah I'm full on crying now.

Fuck you Darke.

Oh no... Sleepy Boone's a cockblock.

“I don’t know if she will.” “You did.”

Y'all are being wonderfully optimistic about this.

He still didn’t understand how that worked.

Does anyone really get how it works, though...

This may be because I haven't read BS:A in a month and I might have forgotten some things, but I have never related to Sam more than I do in this moment.

He’d been confused for the past month and a half. And, once he’d thought they’d figured something out, he was confused again.

Same bro.

Maybe everyone was simply stressed. Or sleep deprived.

This is either a high-stakes confidential investigation into a suspected HYDRA spy... or a day in my life trying to survive exams season.

SHE'S NOT A NAZI OH MY GOD

I love how close everyone is getting to answers but then it all blows up in their faces just before they could come to a solid conclusion...

Are all these trust issues going to lead to a Civil War-esque conflict

because if it is, I'm excited

And maybe that was what someone was counting on.

YEAH 👀👀👀👀👀 You could say that again

No really say it again, a bit louder this time so some ginger asshole 😐👀👀👀👀 prancing around Europe 👀👀👀👀 can FUCKIN HEAR IT

You know what I never understood about Peter Parker

He's a conventionally attractive intelligent kid in a science school. And yet he's getting bullied and isn't getting any attention from anyone (except probably MJ)

Sure he's scrawny and a bit awkward but I'd have thought that would be endearing and attractive.

I mean, I'd have a crush on him if he went to my school... to be fair, if you were to put him in my school, the bar would be so fucking low.

But STILL

And now he was dismantling the weapon himself. Mr. Stark wouldn’t mind. Peter would just do most of the work himself and then take the pieces to Stark. If anything went wrong…he’d say that he’d found it like that. Yeah…that’s it.

Wow. That's really fucking stupid, Peter. Congrats, you've reached the first of many lows.

“Some guy tried to vaporize me with it.” “Seriously?” “Yeah.” “Awesome,”

Never change, Ned.

Okay, so he was called Shadow ok.

I still can't get over how serial killer-y the New York Shadow sounds to me

Yes, Ned should meet the Shadow.

i think the Shadow would like him.

Anyone in the right mind would like Ned. And the Shadow.... is not necessarily in the right mind right now but that's okay he'd still like him.

“Ned!” he whisper-yelled at his friend as Ned looked around in confusion. He waved him closer, “Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.” Ned raised a brow in bewilderment, shuffling slowly toward him as he glanced between Peter and the two men that were sneaking down the hall.

Never change.

He swallowed thickly, reaching for his web shooter and switching the settings from shooting web fluid to a tracking device he’d gotten from Agent Romanoff after the fiasco in Colombia.

I never really thought about how or why Peter got all this cool stuff in his suit that he knew how to use before he disabled the trainwing wheels protocol but now I know.

It's not canon in the actual MCU but not even MCU writers gives a fuck about what's canon in the MCU now.

What Darke says goes. Her will is final.

The Shadow was definitely right. He was gonna need some help with this one.

The delinquent teeager with a growing hero complex admits to needing an adult supervisor. Fun.

Yay time for Ghostie and her psychopathic buddies fun trip through Europe again woohoo

I think we can safely say that Ghost is displaying signs of a personality disorder that is definitely trauma-related and it gets my gears turning.

It's also so daunting to see her fall apart mentally like this, contrasting her with Ghost from the flashbacks and especially Ghost from Origins.

And, when they did decide to shut up, Athena decided that you needed to be informed of something.

Hehehe ok that's funny. She's an instigator.

Travel Trip number god-only-knows-what-number: make time to rest and eat... also maybe don't stray too far away from your planned accommodations because now you're trapped in the middle of Europe being chased down by a rat and your very persistent boyfriend.

Doctor Novak has impeccable timing... don't tell me he was just watching her have a breakdown in the corner like the creep that he is.

Omg that mental image reminds me of the baby lizard in the corner of my room that was staring at me at 3am while I was crying.

He is now baby lizard. A very evil, coldhearted lizard.

Oof, I'm now imagining him as Silco. Not a friendly mental image.

A large binder was set on the table, marked with an array of tabs and spattered with red pen.

He's just getting help for his research thesis is all.

Trying to make light of the situation right before reading a really graphic torture flashback made my stomach churn and I'm sorry.

A little too… Obedient.

I'm gonna puke.

No but I'm actually gonna love this scene aren't I

I am I definitely am

“You look perfect.”

Knowing how emaciated and downright ghoulish she proabbly looks right now, that's just... disturbing.

Even if he saw her as a weapon, she isn't in her prime right now. His idea of her being perfect is when she's close to breaking down, inches away from dying because of self-inflicted damage, which in this case was still being inflicted by him. All of what she is now is just the long term effects of his handiwork.

Ew. But also woah.

Oh he bought her coffee?? Novak knows his way to a psychopathic woman's heart.

Or at least my heart but I don't wanna think about that.

As you…A-As you did what you were told.

Darke what the fuck...

“And you think you can control me?” “No, no. Of course, not. Even I cannot control you, Ghostie,”

The thing is, he is in a way, still controlling her. He knows it. She's in denial about it. He's enjoying it.

But your fingers couldn’t wrap around the object. You couldn’t reach it…even if it was within your reach. A pained gasp left your lips as you tried again, “What are you doing?” The words came out in a panicked huff as you began to shake. “I am doing nothing,” he said, watching you carefully as he lifted his pen and began jotting down notes.

Ooh the first thing that came to mind is the pheromone lock thing that Dreykov put in the Widows, but I don't think that's what's happening here.

The second thing that came to mind was that scene in Moon Knight when Steven was trying to hand the scarab to Arthur Harrow, and one of the other alters (probably Jake) was physically stopping him from handing it over.

You could kill Ollie before he even knew you were there. You could kill him and everything would go back to normal. Then you could go home.

But it never ends with going home, does it?

Darke, that was one of the best scenes I ever read.

What the fuck are you doing to your poor protagonist

The Shadowman 😭😭 What, is he some washed up magician in Las Vegas now?

If Mr. Stark was so busy, Peter would take care of it himself.

PETER NO

NO NO NO NO NO

🙂

If this was a very persistent canon event unfolding, at least Miguel would be happy about it.

Ugh I hate that I'm now annoyed reading Bucky's POV because Ollie IS ALWAYS NEXT TO HIM AND HE KEEPS OPENING HIS FUCKING MOUTH

Oh no

She didn’t move, staring at their car as it came ever closer. “Move. Move. Move,” he whispered under his breath, the word coming out like a prayer. She stayed where she was, staring them down without any emotion. No. No. No.

oh wow...

“Maybe she has someone inside Aftermath,” he cut him off with a shrug, ignoring the glare he got from the man. “What—” “She’s been one step ahead of us from Colombia.” He licked his lips nervously, “Maybe you need to check your seals.”

Yes well about that...

“She was aiming at you. And, to be fair, you kinda deserve it.” “Who’s side are you on?” “At this point? It’s varying.”

This would be a really funny fight if I wasn't so stressed out

She wasn’t thinking. She was following orders.

Well, they're figuring this out, at least.

All this stress is making me miss Wakanda even more...

Oh Peter... you child.

Honestly, Jack, what did you think was gonna happen, trusting a kid to hand over a highly hazardous alien technology to a very busy sleep-deprived old billionaire who's got a lot on his plate

Before Jack could get away from the kid, a shot of white webbing went hurling at him. It wrapped around his wrist and sent it into the wall, trapping him there. A growl echoed through Jack’s chest as he pulled against the webbing and it didn’t give, “Seriously?”

HAHAHAHA

What makes it funnier is that it takes hours for webbing to dissolve so if Pete leaves him there, he's really not going anywhere

HAHAHA

aw dang super soldier got out of the webbing too fast. What a killjoy.

Oh no... now Peter thinks he's one of Ollie's guys

Which means he could tell Ollie about the Shadow guy... who's trying to help him take down the people providing Ollie with weapons...

Oh. No.

“Spider-Man and the Shadowman ride again!” “I already regret this.”

Oh god if this becomes a mentor/mentee thing...

Darke, you know what happens to Spidey's father figures!

IT'S A CANON EVENT

WHAT ARE YOU DOING

“I-I don’t know!” You cried, “I-I don’t miss. I-I never miss. I can't miss. I didn’t miss. I swear.”

So.... Jinx?

Psychosis?

Borderline insanity?

Hmmmm

He was your mission. And you weren’t going to fuck it up again.

Girl I'm scared.

I'm feeling a lot of emotions right now but scared is the overwhelming feeling.

You write her breakdown so well though... the way she's scared of what she's becoming, of how she reacted to Novak. It's great. I love it. I'm terrified.

The stress you're putting your characters under... oh my god.

Bucky's persistence to getting to Ghost and helping her, even though he's thought of all the possibilities of what's going on, why she's doing this; like, he's considered that she was genuinely a sleeper agent and he's still trying to help her... where do I find a man that dedicated?

WHERE!? I need one!

And the Homecoming Arc is going so well!! I love it!! I love how now that the Avengers are genuinely busy and stressed out trying to find Ghost, them not paying as much attention to Peter and the concerning shit he's getting into doesn't feel like them being assholes towards him.

Like we know what they're going through. They're not just ignoring him and sweeping him under the rug for no reason. Idk, that kinda bugged me watching Homecoming, because Tony's not that busy in the movie. Now, he's got valid priorities.

I'm just scared you'll hurt Jack now. I can hear Miguel's theme in the back of my head.

I'm heading into ch93 nowwww woohoo

Still scared though.

CHAPTER 92: SINS OF THE FATHER

To all my live reactors,

Please, please, please, hide your reactions under a Read More cut. I don’t want any spoilers floating around.

To all my Anonymous Avengers,

If you want to react in my asks, feel free. However, I won’t be answering any of them until at least Wednesday if they contain spoilers.

Thank you,

Darke

┍━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┑

No. No. No. No. No.

It couldn’t be him. No.

Athena would have told you if he was in the city.

He wouldn’t come anywhere near you. Not when you were like this. He was smarter than that.

Your chest tightened as the crowd around you brushed past you and you slowly turned to face the man in the window. His dark, nearly black, eyes met your and, in an instant, your mouth went dry. Your body went rigid. Your breath was caught in your throat as your stomach tightened in endless knots.

— “You think he is going to save you?” he asked, staring down at you as you fought against your restraints, “You think he is going to be the one to release you?” —

— A screech tore through your throat as the Soldier simply watched the blade slip across your shoulders. He didn’t move. Didn’t react to your pleas for help. —

— “He is not a hero,” the Doctor whispered, slashing the blade through more skin, “He is a weapon. And weapons, my dear, they do not weep. They do not scream. They do as they are told.” —

┕━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┙

» CHAPTER 92: SINS OF THE FATHER

✪ Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ Sᴄᴀʀʀᴇᴅ : Aғᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ

♜♠ Tʜᴇ Sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ & Tʜᴇ Sᴘʏ

⧗ Tʜᴇ Rᴇᴅ Rᴏᴏᴍ

☞ Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ Sᴄᴀʀʀᴇᴅ: Oʀɪɢɪɴs

»Jᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇ sɪᴅᴇ Tᴀɢʟɪsᴛ

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***if you have a strike through your handle, it wouldn’t let me tag you 😞

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heythere-mel · 2 years ago

Text

Sweet Like Sugar

Jack Daniels x f!reader

W/C: 1K+

A/N: This is my first go at writing for Whiskey so you can blame the bit of Kingsman I caught before bed last night, partial insomnia, and my period hormones for this one. Enjoy what you can bbys 🤍

——-

Jack pulled onto the dirt path just before the snow started falling. It was a mere light dusting of the powder that was set to hit the town that final week of his latest mission but despite his reassurances, he knew you’d worry yourself sick if he hadn’t made it back before it hit.

Cutting the engine to the bronco, he couldn’t help but race up the steps of your modest ranch house. A soft glow from the kitchen peeking through the window was a welcome beacon calling him home. To you. To the both of you.

——-

Everything in the house was quiet. The scent of your famous sugar cookies filled the air as he passed through the living room. I hope she left the bowl and spoon for me to taste, he hummed to himself.

“Sugar! I’m home!”

No answer.

Hmmm, the rocking chair perhaps? He made his way to his new favorite room in the house. The nursery. Jack had an old friend whip up the one thing you begged him for when setting up the room.

“I need somewhere to sit when I tell him all the bedtime stories!” “Whatever your little heart desires, you got it sweetheart!”

He slowly opened the door to the newly furnished space. Memories began flooding in of the day you two painted it and how messy everything got. He’d never heard you laugh so hard at the sky blue blotches that littered his face, or when he stepped on a roller which led to paint all over his boots paired with endless Papa Smurf jokes. He’d let you paint every pair if he got that reaction and smile every time.

“Not here either. Where is this crazy woman?”

His last stop was your bedroom, and the sight he came upon stopped him in his tracks. You were curled up on the bed, the latest baby book you’d gotten into was lazily clutched in your hands and your reading glasses hung from the tip of your nose. He shuffled closer to take you in, a muffled wow leaving his lips. I am one lucky bastard. He gently removed your book and glasses, the dip of his weight on the bed stirred you slightly as you slowly opened your eyes to his loving smile.

“Hey cowboy, you made it home.”

“I told you I would. How are you feeling mama?”

“A little cold. I wanted to start the fireplace up but knew you’d give me an earful if I did. That’s why I made cookies. Oven warmed the house just enough. Even left you the bowl to lick. Other than that, just tired. Your son decided to settle down for a bit though, which meant nap time for me too.”

Jack chuckled, “You’re damn right you would’ve gotten a full lecture little lady! Don’t need to be lifting much or inhaling those fumes.” This made you playfully roll your eyes, knowing he was just wanting to do right by you and the baby. “Y’all got room for one more under there? Let your husband warm you right up!”

You unwrap yourself from the comforter to make room for him and Jack couldn’t help but stop and stare.

“What?” feeling a little more self conscious these days with your growing form.

“I hope you know just how damn beautiful you are. Pregnancy looks good on you. Real good!” He states that last part with a waggle of his eyebrow.

“You cowboys and your sweet talk. Just get into bed and come warm your wife up!”

“Yes ma’am!”

Jack kicks his boots off and places his Stetson on the nightstand as he crawls into your warm embrace. Instant peace settles in, as he brings you to his chest and into the softest kiss imaginable. He caresses the swell of your stomach and can’t help the grin across his face as he feels the flutters from under your thin sweater.

“Hey buddy, I’m home. Sorry to wake you.”

——-

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you just let him talk. Content with the warmth and being nestled safely into his side. He discussed what he could about the trip, relaying the love sent from the others at Statesman. You gave an extensive list of your “nesting concerns” of any and everything in the house, Jack already making a mental honey-do list, back to the topic of possible names for the baby. You could feel the excitement and love coming off him in waves. Felt it in the stolen kisses against your lips, on the pulse point of your neck, through his fingertips as he circled the skin of your hip, trying to bring you even closer. Perhaps this is how you got to stay a little longer this time.

——-

Jack didn’t realize he fell asleep until he felt your palm against his cheek. The heaviness of his eyelids prevented him from truly taking in your expression.

“I’m sorry Sugar, I must’ve dozed off.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared at him with the saddest smile.

“Sugar, is everything alright?”

“I reckon I must be going Jack. You’ve gotta get up soon.”

“What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“Your alarm goes off in a few minutes.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You never do...”

Taking his hand, you kissed his palm then brought it to your face, letting it trace its way down to your bump as you continued your goodbye.

“Thank you for loving me. And continuing to love me. Us.” Giving him one last kiss that he all but melts into it.

“You can wake up now.”

——-

The old fashioned alarm clock blares at him and Jack’s eyes snap open, un shed tears on the brim of letting go. His breathing is quickened as he feels the empty space next to him. It was 8am and with a quick glance out the bedroom window he sees the snow beginning to fall. Turning back to the mantle he’s met with your smiling face, a picture from your wedding framed right next to your last ultrasound photo.

He sighs to himself. Just another dream, Jack.

It was better than nothing he supposed.

“Thank you for the visit sugar. Let me get started on that fire for you.”

#jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey #kingsman the golden circle #drabble?#mel writes!#pedro pascal

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angelic-ish-phantom · 3 years ago

Text

“Jack did you do that?” Maddie asked pulling up her mask and goggles, blinking, attempting to help her eyes to adjust to the darkness that now covered the lab.

“I did not… or I don’t think so. I did not notice! If I did, that is.” Jack answered heartily, and Maddie sighed.

She could hear her husband moving to the lights without her needing to ask, and it occurred to her just how dark it had become in so short a time: it was pitch black. Everything had lost emission in the space of a blink, an instant.

Maddie would have presumed it was some sort of power outage, would have told Jack to go for the back-up generators instead, but then she realized not even the glow of ectoplasm samples could be seen.

The only light remaining in the lab was the thin line of green in the crack of the portal.

This wasn’t natural.

“Jac-“ she started when nearly every device in the basement screeched with static; Maddie flinched covering her ears just late enough to catch Jack’s Yelp of alarm.

The noise sank from its piercing height to a much more soothing tone, like the waves of a low tide, sloshing under the sounds of everything. Maddie pulled her hand down, heart beating a staccato rhythm in her chest. She wasn’t sure if the static had left her ears ringing of if she was hearing the rushing past her ears; it left her dizzy—reeling.

Maddie’s head snapped up as a single monitor flickered to life, hand hovering over her ecto-gun on instinct as it shone green. An odd shape formed on the screen, the neon shade of ghostly things, two lines that might have qualified for eyes on what might have qualified for a face.

It looked around the room, then it’s gaze landed on her.

Maddie’s hand tightened on her gun. How had a ghost gotten into the lab, not to mention presumably shut off all their equipment.

In the dim light cast by the screen, Maddie could now make out shapes, could sort-of see things in the stripe of light that ran through the laboratory. She turned her head slightly, glancing at Jack.

She thought she might have seen him jiggling the door handle and shaking his head. That made sense; if it had messed the room’s (house’s?) power, it could have sealed the door.

Maddie clenched her teeth. How dare this ghost attack her her and Jack in their home, in their own lab, putting Jazz and Danny at risk. It was going to pay.

A high, cheery voice rang out, sounding slightly bit-crunched through the static, “Hi! I’m sorry if that startled you, I had hoped to start this off better, haha. Then, I’d hoped to introduce myself properly in very different conditio-“ The ghost was cut off when Maddie swiftly, raised her weapon and blasted right into the screen’s center, shattering it.

It went dead silent for a moment. Then Jack’s happy voice boomed, congratulatory, bumbling back down the stairs in the low light. “You handled that spook so fast Mads! Wouldn’t have thought it would be so easy when it pulled those light tricks, but you sure showed it. That’ll teach those ghost from messing with Fentons.”

The tension drained from her body and Maddie smiled, opening her mouth to speak, when that same cheerful, robotic voice rose up again. “That was rude.” It didn’t sound particularly bothered, having moved to one of the larger screens on the wall, covering the room with a soft, eerie glow.

Maddie aimed again, hearing her husband flank her.

“That won’t work again.” It said, “I’d rather not have you destroying our things.”

Jack glared, “Get out of our lab and back into the Ghost Zone spook, none of this is yours!” He declared, raising Fenton Bazooka. Maddie heard the click of Jack pulling the trigger, muzzle pointed right at the ghost’s image.

…Nothing happened.

“I’m not from the Ghost Zone,” it lied, “And I just said that wouldn’t work. None of our inventions will work down here right now. This is important and I don’t want you to interrupt.”

Maddie experimentally pulled at her own trigger a few times: no response. It was like empty metal.

“We aren’t going to listen to anything you have to say!” Jack retorts. And he’s right, they can’t afford to fall into whatever game it’s playing.

But Maddie had to put more light on their situation.

“How are you controlling our inventions?” She asked coldly. These were things made to combat ghosts; they weren’t supposed to be able to use them, to influence them like this.

The little shape on the screen tilted its ‘head’, “You can’t tell who I am?”

Did that mean they’d seen it before? “You’re the Technology ghost.” It had appeared to be a more masculine shadow than this at the time, more grounded in what it thought humanity was. And she and Jack had never fought it directly before; that had always been Phantom.

“Absolutely not. I am more nuanced than him. Try again?” It said, sounding almost offended.

“We’ve never hunted you before.” Jack answered, brow furrowed as he thought back.

“Never fought me, no. We work together. We made all these brilliant things.”

Maddie tensed, had this ghosts obsession tied itself into their lab, their inventions? This could get dangerous if that was the case.

It looked at her pointedly as though it had read her mind, ‘eyes’ gaining horizontal lines overtop them, resembling eyebrows.

“I know what you think of me, all your theories… you’re wrong. It’s why I didn’t try to talk to you both sooner.” It’s voice mimicked sadness as it went on, “But I care about you, and I know how much you care about me.” When it didn’t receive more than her and Jack’s doubtful glowers, it let out what might have been a sigh. Or perhaps a vocalization of fake agitation, a burst of rippling static.

“You’re work was good but you had limited sources. There wasn’t much you could do about your theories or your designs. Think for a second, why do you think most of your weapons weren’t working before the portal, and suddenly did after… of course you still don’t know. They need to be charged with ectoplasm. By a ghost.” A chill ran down Maddie’s spine as the implication set in. Surely, this ghost hadn’t been here for so long.

“That’s what I’ve been doing!” It said, a thin line spreading to make a creepy smile on the face. “All those unaccounted for design changes. Every final kick. That was me, helping out my fellow inventors. Where would I be without you two after all.”

“You’ve been sabotaging our machines!” Jack realized. Maddie watched the ghost’s smile slide into a flat line; the expression it settled into might have been a deadpan.

“How long have you been in our lab?” Maddie asked horrified.

It played a sound—tsked—and closed it ‘eyes’ for a moment.

“Oh Madeline…” it started, every piece invention in the room, lighting up, brighter than it had ever been before, “I am the lab.”

It wasn’t uncommon for inanimate objects in the Ghost Zone to be… actually quite animate, or at the very least sentient. They tended to project similar thoughts, feelings, and obsessions as those that were around them often.

It was actually extremely common of well kept objects: heirlooms, weapons and the like. Sometimes, they spoke. Other times, they projected feelings. Sometimes, they simply stayed silent and blank, the objects they had always been, despite cores thrumming under their surface.

These were considered ghosts. These were to be treated as any other ghost would be. And that was how it went.

However, there were situations in which this could happen to real world items. While rare, it could happen when a portal opened up on something, it could happen where death lingered and emotions were high.

And thus, it happened to the Fenton’s lab. Ectoplasmic constructs had been played with in there for over a decade. Obsessive and strong feeling scientists worked laboriously within its walls.

The death, the fear, the portal come to life: That was simply the tipping point. And a very potent catalyst it was, burning in the aftermath of something ancient, metal lit up and searing on another plane of existence. The lab was awake in a matter of days, and fully conscious in a few more weeks.

The Fentonworks lab was a ghost.

“That’s ridiculous!” Maddie sputtered.

“You ghosts are constructs of post human consciousness. The lab isn’t human.” Jack agreed.

“No. That I am not.” It said, sounding content. “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about.” It’s tone went serious. “I’m here when you aren’t; I know things you don’t, things you need to know.”

Maddie glared. Was it trying to make a deal with them. This couldn’t be anything more than the usual ghost trickery. “You’re trying to sell us information?” She grit.

“No.” It said, sounding a little more frustrated. “I’m telling you what I know. But you need to know that it’s important. That I can’t let you leave until you understand.”

Maddie’s trigger finger itched to grab for her weapon at the threat, and Jack pointed directly into the screen, jabbing it. “You can’t keep us in here, Spook!” He yelled indignantly.

“I really can. Not that I want to of course. You’ll understand once you see the video I caught.” It says, cocky as every ghost that invaded Amity Park.

Maddie was running through their options, trying to think of an exit , but she couldn’t ignore her curiosity. “What video?” She asked. Then added, “There aren’t any working cameras down here.”

“Because I stopped you from viewing all of those.” It said flippantly, “and you kept the last one installed when you gave up on having security footage down here, so I’ve just been…watching.”

Maddie shivered, that was a horrifying thought. This ghost had been spying on them, silent, recording every last bit of their research.

“I’m sorry,” it apologized, and if Maddie hadn’t known better, she’d have believed it, “I can’t exactly help it.”

There was a beat of silence, before it continued, “You came really close to seriously hurting him yesterday, and I had to do something. I can’t just let this go on until you have him locked down here on a dissection table.”

Maddie knew what it was talking about, it would be impossible not to; yesterday she and Jack had gotten the ghost boy all the way into the lab. That should have been it, the end of all those arduous hunts. They had finally caught the menace!

And then the portal doors had malfunctioned and-

Maddie gasp, fury flashing through her, “It was you! You opened the portal and let Phantom escape!” She accused.

“I had to.” It said back. Ghost.

“It’s probably been letting the ghost boy get our weapons this whole time!” Jack said, and Maddie hated that they had never seen this before. “You’re probably the one that’s been letting in all those ghosts we don’t see enter through the portal too!”

This ghost was a threat to the entire town and they hadn’t even noticed it existed.

Several screens lit up with big, bright X’s. “No, no, no. I didn’t do any of those things. Except for yesterday of course. But I can tell you the program for predicting natural portals in Amity Park I created, when this is all over.”

“When this is over,” Maddie hissed, “You won’t be coming anywhere near this town ever again.

“Jackson, Madeline, if you two just watch the footage-“ it tried again.

“We aren’t watching anything you put in fron-“ The face on the largest screen was suddenly replaced with an image of Danny, laughing with his friends. He was wearing his hazmat suit; Maddie hadn’t seen him wear it once it over a year now.

Why was Danny going into the portal? Even when it wasn’t complete. Didn’t he know how dangerous that could be…

It occurred to Maddie they’d never actually told the kids how dangerous most of the things in the lab were. They’d stopped drilling in lab safety when Jazz turned ten.

“Why is Danno going in the-?” Jack started. Then all Maddie could hear was the screams of her child. All she could see was the flash of the portal working.

All she could feel was horror coming up in waves, nausea roiling in her gut as she stumbled back into Jack, whose face had gone ashen, all of his usual liveliness gone.

Because Danny had been in the portal.

Danny had been in the portal.

And if Danny had been in the portal then-

Maddie watched as a familiar face swayed past the portal’s edge, features now much more significant than they had been before.

And once again, she hadn’t noticed.

“…are you ready to listen?” The voice, the ghost, the lab said.

And Maddie could only nod.

It loved inventing. It loved research. It loved the Fentons.

The lab knew she had gotten most of those feelings from the Eldest Fentons, but it’d had a year to think about these things.

She’d been around for a year; she’d seen how Danny feared her. It saw how often Danny snuck into her walls: to train, to steal, to get to the portal. It helped him at every opportunity, made everything in her lab as easy as possible for him.

She had made the her lab more accessible for Jazz. It had whittled the securities of the lab down time and time again whenever Jazz needed to steal the speeder or grab a weapon.

It had seen the Madeline and Jackson’s work, incomplete and incorrect, but so extraordinary. She had made corrections to files where it could, it had deactivated some of the more unpleasant weapons. It made little things while everyone slept and let Madeline and Jackson wonder which one of them had forgotten about making them.

She loved the Fentons. She would protect them. Even from themselves.

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years ago

Text

Yes, Mr. President || The Complication

art by @multiverse-mxdness

happy saturday my loves!

story summary: Scandal! AU– your mentor, David Rossi, has recruited you to make Senator Aaron Hotchner the next President of the United States. Once described as a political nun, the Senator helps you see that maybe you can mix business and pleasure.

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: hospitals, food consumption and discussion of not eating

wordcount: 2.8k

Haley’s at her sister Jess’s house when the call comes in. Jack is in the backyard with his cousins– they’re a little older, and they’re positively basking in the sunlight, teaching him which branches are sturdy enough to support his weight on the trees surrounding the treehouse Aaron and his brother in law had built for the kids, nearly a decade ago now. The treehouse has survived tough winters, four consecutive Senate terms, violent DC thunderstorms, and more late-night floor votes than Haley could count. It still stood strong.

Jess has made tea, presented it with a tray of cookies and crackers and cut fruit. Her little sister hasn’t eaten a full meal since… the incident, but she’ll graze and pick anxiously if food is left out, more out of a desire to do something with her hands than anything else. It’s not ideal, but it keeps her on her feet, Jess thinks. Sometimes, that’s all you can do as the big sister, is keep everybody on their feet. Even when it’s not enough.

It’s startling to hear Haley’s phone ring. After the first day, she’d updated the settings, put the damn thing on Do Not Disturb, only allowing a few numbers through. It had been ringing off the hook, and she just couldn’t take it a moment longer. They all meant well, Haley and Jess both knew, but there are only so many sympathy calls you can take while your husband is still alive.

So, when the phone goes off, a million miles away on the counter, both heads shoot over to it in an instant. Haley rises, picks it up, and when the phone continues to ring, even after Haley has picked it up, Jess follows.

“It’s the hospital,” Haley whispers, still holding the phone in her hand, and she’s already crying.

“You have to answer it, Hales,” her sister encourages gently.

“I can’t,” She shakes her head, her tears dripping off her face and onto the counter. Her shoulders are already shaking.

“You can, go ahead,’ Jess encourages.

“He’s still alive. As long as I don’t answer this phone, he’s still alive,” Haley says shakily, and she knows it’s irrational, knows that her husband’s life doesn’t truly hang in the balance of this terribly macabre Shroedinger’s experiment, but when so much has been taken out of her control so quickly, it’s hard not to cling to the tiny bit that you do have left.

Jess, ultimately, makes the decision for her, picking up the call and pushing Haley’s arm gently up, so that the phone rested against her face.

“Hello,” Haley said weakly.

“Is this Haley Hotchner?” A voice on the other end of the phone that she recognizes, but can’t quite place, asks.

“Speaking,” she croaks out.

“This is Doctor Gallagher, Chief of Surgery at Walter Reed Medical Center,” he identifies himself. Gallagher, that’s right, Haley thinks to herself. “Your husband is awake. We’re going to let him rest for a little while before we remove the ventilator, and we’ll want to–”

Haley feels her brain buffering. He says more, but she doesn’t hear it over the sound of her own brain processing what she’s just heard.

“He’s awake?” She gasps.

“Yes, but he still needs to focus on recuperating and—”

“He’s awake?” She asks again.

“Yes, Mrs. Hotchner. Your husband is awake.”

“I’ll be right there,” She says, hanging up the phone before the doctor could get another word in edgewise.

Jess is crying, too, when she hangs up the phone, and Haley throws her arms around her sister.

“Oh, Hales… Haley,” Jess says as she holds her sister through her joyful cries, the two of them nearly collapsing into hysterical giggles. “Go, go. See if you can catch him before he falls back asleep.”

You’re no better than Haley as you drive away from the hospital. He was awake. He was alive. What more could you ask for? You went home, took a deep breath for what felt like the first time in weeks— felt the air sink all the way in and hit the bottom of your lungs before breathing back out. You’re so unbelievably relieved that you’re nearly made useless by it– you want to celebrate, to dance in the streets and praise God, but you can’t be seen like that– the cat would be out of the bag in an instant. You already had to cancel on Derek via text just to keep your composure.

Another part of you wants to get the first night of sleep since all of this started, but your adrenaline is pumping far too hard for that to be possible. You settle for takeout— your favorite pasta— and a big glass of red wine. The classics are classic for a reason, you decide. Your bliss lasts all of three uninterrupted hours before Rossi calls.

“Hi Dave,” you smile. You’re sure he knows by now, but if not, you’d be happy to break the news.

“Hey kiddo,” he sounds heavy. “Can you meet me at the hospital? We have a problem.”

“A problem?” You say, gripping your wine glass so tight you think it might shatter. You force yourself to lighten up, thinking of your white couch and carpet.

“Aaron is fine,” he assures you. “We’ll talk about it when you get here, okay?”

You flick on the radio as you drive back to Walter Reed, and figure out the problem soon enough.

We spoke with the First Lady as she headed to the hospital this afternoon,” the voice of a reporter you don’t recognize echoes through your car’s stereo system. It cuts to a recording. “Mrs. Hotchner, you’re smiling for the first time in recent weeks! Is the President awake?”

“Yes!” She answers tearfully.

“When can the American people expect to see him back at work?”

“Oh, soon, very soon, I’m sure. He’ll want to call the Vice President himself, of course, but he’ll be ready to get back to work. Aaron won’t want to be off the job any longer than necessary,” Haley answers, and you hear a car door shut– likely a Secret Service agent shutting her into the car before she can create a further press maelstrom.

When you arrive at the hospital, Rossi’s pacing around the suite, and Haley’s folded in upon herself in one of those damn uncomfortable visitors chairs— looking nowhere near how joyous she should be allowed to be, given the circumstances. Poor thing. Aaron’s asleep again, which isn’t surprising. His ventilator is still in— if he hadn’t changed positions, if you hadn’t seen his eyes with your own, you may not have even believed that he had woken up at all.

“I heard it on the way in,” you tell Rossi as you enter the room.

“The Vice President has already called and asked to speak with him. There are rumors— Republicans talking about asking the President to resign, to focus on his health and his family. They’re suggesting he won’t make a full recovery,” Rossi explains.

You huff. “They’ll get further with Strauss than they ever would with Aaron. He’s too firm in his convictions for them. They’d rather work with someone they can manipulate politically.”

“Well, regardless of their reasons, they’re about to make the American people doubt him, too.” Rossi sets you back on track.

You turn to Haley. “When you talked to the doctors, what did they say? How is he, actually?”

“I didn’t mean to do this, really. I didn’t know. I was just so excited, I didn’t think,” Haley babbles, crying a little. You crouch in front of her, take both of her hands in yours.

“I know, Haley. I know you didn’t mean it. Not everyone is as good as you. You deserved that moment of happiness, and I’m sorry someone took it from you,” you tell her. “I’m going to do everything in my power to fix it, but I need your help. What did the doctors say about Hotch?”

“They said that… given everything, he was really lucky.” Haley’s speech comes in fits and starts. “They said they’ll take out the respirator later tonight, and that he’ll need more rest after that. Then, tomorrow, they’ll check his cognitive function. The bullet—” she stops, takes a deep breath. “They don’t know about the bullet that grazed his skull, if it’s going to have any long-term effects. They said maybe aphasia, or that he may have lost some motor function. They’re going to try to get him out of bed tomorrow— to see if he can still walk,” she explains.

“Okay, Haley. It’s going to be okay,” you tell her, shooting a glance to Rossi. This was bad– worse than you thought it was. He was barely in any shape to head home, let alone go back to work– back to the most important job in the country. But you’d figure it out. You’d fix it, for him. That’s what you did, what you’d always do.

Your phone rings at 6:30 the next morning.”Rossi, we said we’d meet at 9,” you groaned.

“I know, I know, but I think you’ll forgive me.”

You start to ask him what he means by that, but then there’s a shuffling on the other end of the line, and the phone changes hands.

“Hi.” The voice is gravelly, worn, and exhausted, but wholly, undoubtedly Aaron’s. You nearly fall out of bed.

“Hi,” you say back. You hear Rossi excuse himself in the background. You know you should say more, but what is there to say? Where do you begin? “How are you feeling?” you ask.

“I’m okay,” he lies. It’s so like him, you could almost laugh. You’re relieved, yes, but you’re not in a laughing mood just yet. “You left the other day. When I woke up,” he says. His tone is neutral, but you know better.

“I stayed until Haley was almost there. I didn’t want— she deserved to be the first person to see you, Aaron.”

He chuffs out a little laugh. “You’re a better person than I am.”

“Well, you just took a bullet for your country. Four of them, actually. So you’re allowed to be a little selfish.” Not to mention the man didn’t have a selfish bone in his body prior, never mind the fact that you could count on one hand the number of times he’d acted against the instincts of his better angels.

“Oh, is that all I had to do?” He asks sarcastically, and this time you grant him the laugh. It brings tears to your eyes, too, and in any other situation, you might try to hide them, but not today. “I’m okay, angel. Really,” he assures you, picking up on your desperate, shallow breaths.

“I know,”

“We’ll figure out the rest, remember? I meant it.”

“I know,” you repeat. “Has Rossi told you about—”

“About Haley trying to Weekend at Bernie’s my return to the White House?” he scoffs, and you laugh.

“Aaron! She wasn’t trying to shred the Constitution to pieces. I’m coming in this morning, and we’ll figure it out,” you remind him.

“We’ll figure it all out. You and me,” he says. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

++++

“We could move him to Camp David,” Rossi suggests.

“Sure, if we want to tell the American people that I’m the old dog their Dad sent off to a nice farm,” Aaron huffs.

“Don’t say that, Aaron! You’re not dying,” Haley chastises.

Aaron opens his mouth, and you can tell by the look on his face that he’s about to say something harsh– it’s the same he used to make before delivering something particularly biting when you first met him on the campaign. He’s either too tired, or he thinks better of it, because he closes his mouth with a sigh. You try to put the conversation back on track.

“Maybe he could meet with the cabinet virtually to discuss reinstatement? We could sit him up in bed and get him some fresh clothes,” you suggest.

Rossi’s buzzing phone interrupts the flow of conversation. “It’s Reid. I should take this,” Rossi says, excusing himself.

As he slips out of the door, Dr. Gallagher steps in.

“Mr. President, is this an okay time for an update?” He asks.

“Yes, please come in,” he says, clearing his throat and shifting to sit up straight— attempting to be Presidential, even from his hospital bed. You’re overwhelmed with the urge to lay him back down, encourage him to rest, but you stay put. He needed to do this his way. And you didn’t want Haley to remove you from the room by your hair, either.

“The bullet that hit your skull grazed your frontal lobe. We managed the swelling in surgery and throughout your recovery, and we’re hopeful that any effects you see will be minimal.

“Effects such as?” Haley asks, standing next to Aaron and squeezing his hand in her own. He doesn’t squeeze back.

“Dizziness, fatigue, irritability— the symptoms we commonly associate with concussions,” the doctor explains.

“And if they’re not minimal?” Aaron asks.

The doctor draws in a deep breath. “Our frontal lobes control executive function, Mr. President. So in some situations we’ve seen an inability to make decisions, a shorter attention span. We’ve had patients who haven’t been able to write, who suffer from aphasia,”

“Aphasia?” You interrupt. You know this medical update isn’t really for you, but you can’t help it. You’re invested, in more ways than one.

“A speech impairment,” he explains. “Either you can’t speak at all, or if you can it’s hard to find your words.”

The thought of Aaron, silenced, makes a chill run down your spine.

“We’ll also be on the lookout for personality changes,” Dr. Gallagher continues, completely unaware or oblivious to the mental anguish he’s cast upon you. “It all depends on the patient, which is why I’d like to get our head neurologist in here as soon as possible to do a full workup.”

“When can I go back to work?” Aaron asks, as if it’s some menial desk job.

“At least three weeks, assuming there’s no permanent damage,” the doctor says, and Aaron heaves a sigh. “Walking across a room is going to feel like a marathon. You need to–”

“Am I interrupting?” Rossi says as he re-enters. Clearly, he is, and he knows it, so you and Aaron both know whatever it is, it must be urgent.

Never one to waste a good crisis, Aaron turns to the doctor, levels him with a glare that has made Senators yield for decades. “You’ll sign my return to duty?” He asks, but it’s not really a question.

He hesitates, but not for long. “Yes, Mr. President.”

“Thank you,” Aaron says, dismissing the doctor.

“Vice President Strauss has called the Cabinet to the Oval tomorrow afternoon to request your formal resignation.” Rossi drops the bomb you all had been waiting for.

“Okay, the game has changed, the timeline’s moved up, but we knew this was coming— this is what we were preparing for,” you prepare to keep the emotions in the room under control.

“He doesn’t have to sign it, right?” Haley asks, her tone the picture of hopeful naivete. “What if he just doesn’t sign it?”

“Well, first, you’re assuming that she doesn’t already have a letter in her desk signed by the cabinet removing me from office permanently,” Aaron starts. “But if she doesn’t, then she’d surely find someone in the House of Representatives who’s willing to draft up articles of impeachment for me. There are plenty of Republicans who would love nothing more than to be the guy who took down Stoic Senator Hotchner after he became President. They’d all do the news circuits, ask every anchor in the country why they haven’t seen the President since his wife swore up and down that her husband would be back to work just as soon as he could see straight. It would divide the country, a country that’s already shocked and scared and recovering from an act of terror,” he continues on his tirade. “She’d never have the votes to impeach me, but in reality, it doesn’t matter, because at that point I’d have to resign for the good of the country— because it’s not presidential to get into a petty turf war on the South Lawn of the White House!”

“Aaron,” you warn him gently— Haley didn’t deserve this cruelty, even if his anger was warranted, and you didn’t want him spiking his blood pressure.

“There’s no way out. She deserves to know the reality of the situation just as well as we do,” he insists.

“That’s not true,” Rossi interjects. “What, do you think we can’t beat Erin at her own game? I seem to remember you coming back from 70 to 1 odds to beat her just a couple of years ago,” he reminds the room with a twinkle in his eye.

taglist: @shmaptainhotchner @call-me-mrsreid @dadbodhotch11 @the-modernmary @ssamorganhotchner @choppa-style @ssahotchie @rousethemouse @angelfxllcm @arsonhotchner @skyler666 @mintphoenix @gspenc @g-l-pierce @wheelsupkels @chelseagirl77

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader fic #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #scandal #scandal au

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redrobin-detective · 3 years ago

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exile

Maddie Fenton woke up on the worst day of her life with a headache. That wasn’t at all unusual, Jack’s snoring could be grating even when asleep. Combined with too many late nights in the lab, too much coffee and just general stress about her work and her kids... it seemed Maddie woke up with a headache more often then not. Jack was the early riser of the two of them so he was already awake and likely starting work in the lab. He’d knock on the kids’ doors to get them up but Danny always needed a special touch, or an aggressive shove, to get up.

Maddie got up and dressed and made her way downstairs, Jazz’s room was cracked and she heard her daughter bustling inside. Danny’s was still shut tight. She knocked forcefully on the door. “Danny honey, it’s 6:30, you need to start getting ready for school.” She got no answer but she didn’t always get one. She had a feeling it was going to be one of those mornings. Setting downstairs, she’d just started the coffee machine when the phone rang.

“Now who is calling at this hour?” Maddie asked herself, picking up the phone. “FentonWorks, this is Maddie Fen-”

“You tell my daughter to come home right this instant!” Pam Manson’s shrill voice came over the phone. Maddie winced and pulled the phone back from her ear. “And you tell her she can kiss that horrible death metal whatever concert she was going to on Saturday goodbye! I will not have my young, impressionable daughter thinking she can tramp around god knows where-”

“Pam, slow down,” Maddie interrupted, irate as always when dealing with the woman. “Sam isn’t here, I didn’t see her at all yesterday or today.” Or Danny, Maddie thought privately with a frown. Pamela’s fury and frustration was understandable in a way. Maddie also had no idea what her own child was up to most days.

“She’s not there?” Pam said quietly after a few moments of silence. “Are you sure?” She added a bit more frantically. “Because she’s not in her bedroom and her bed looks like she never slept in it. She’s not answering her phone but she sometimes doesn’t when she’s sees it’s-” Pam took a deep steadying breath. “Can you check and make certain she’s not there? I’m going to call Angela.” Pam hung up suddenly and Maddie pulled back and looked at the phone, biting her lip with nerves. The coffee maker screeching to life behind her startled her so much that she jumped.

“Goodness,” She said, setting the phone down and thinking. She was certain she hadn’t seen Sam. The last time she’d seen her son’s friend was the day before last when she and Tucker had dragged a very exhausted, bruised up Danny home. Took a fall down the stairs, they’d said, not explaining why their clothes were worn and hands scratched up. Frowning, she wandered to the top of the lab steps. “Jack, you haven’t seen Sam around, have you? Danny’s friend?”

“Sam?” She heard Jack shout back, he poked his head around the corner. “No, did she stay the night? By the way, did you move some of the weapons. I can’t seem to find a few of them...”

“Jack that’s not important right now, Pamela doesn’t know where she is,” Maddie said sharply. She felt a little bad watching as Jack’s face become pensive but she was too anxious herself to apologize. She turned and walked towards the upstairs steps. “I’m going to ask Danny.”

She can’t deny that a subtle little thrill went through her when she got onto the second floor landing and saw Danny’s door open. The sink was running in the bathroom and she knocked heartily on the door. “Daniel Fenton, Mrs. Manson can’t find her daughter and if I find you had her over without telling anyone you are going to be in so much-”

The door opened revealing Jazz with her eyes wide and a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. “Waz goin on?” she asked around the brush. She took out the brush and spit out into the sink. “I poked my head into Danny’s room to wake him up but he wasn’t in there.” Her eyebrows furrowed, “they can’t find Sam?”

Feeling lightheaded, Maddie walked down the hall to Danny’s room to find no one there. She can’t put her finger on why but it didn’t just feel empty but vacant. Danny’s clothes weren’t on the floor, his desk was practically clear for the first time since they bought it. His bed was made just as she’d done it the morning before when she’d rousted her son. Distantly, she heard the phone ringing again but Maddie couldn’t bring herself to leave the deserted room.

Danny had several photos on his wall and desk, she couldn’t help but notice that two were missing. A framed photo of the entire Fenton family they’d taken last year for New Years and a particularly nice shot of Danny with his friends Jazz had snapped. They say in a crime scene, something is always taken and left behind. But why... The sound of footsteps approached her rapidly from behind.

“Mom,” Jazz with a small fearful little tone. She was holding the house phone in one hand and her cell in the other, Danny’s contact information open on her screen. It was just ringing through. “It’s Mrs. Manson, not only is Sam not at Tucker’s but... the Foleys can’t find him either. I... I told them we don’t know where Danny is at the moment. I’m trying to call but its just ringing and ringing...”

“Jasmine, calm down,” Maddie said, taking the phone away from her. “Keep trying his cell and go get your father. Pam, are you still there?” Maddie said speaking into the phone. She was met with tears on the other end.

“Where are they? How could this happen? Sammy... she has a sizable trust and could be a target for ransom but your boy and Tucker? It doesn’t make sense.” Pamela paused to take a few loud, sobbing breaths that pounded at Maddie’s headache like a jackhammer. “Unless they ran away but why? Samantha’s always been spirited but nothing like this... God, I need to call the police, we’ll be in touch.” She clicked off without another word.

“-swer your phone, please little brother. Please, I know. Know-know, I was waiting for you to come to me but now we can’t find you, Sam or Tucker and everyone’s freaking out and we just need to know that you’re all okay.” She heard Jazz speak quickly into her cell, curling in on it like she used to do with her old stuffed animals. Jack’s hands gripping her shoulders from behind, taking in the abandoned room just like she’d been.

“Mads,” Jack whispered, “where’d he go?”

Maddie would ask herself that same question in the coming days, weeks, months and years that would pass. Over the course of front page headlines and tv spots begging for information. When they found a large amount had been transferred out of Sam’s trust, when Tucker’s phone and computer was found broken in two near the dump by the interstate, when their weapons catalogue came up short. As more time passed, it became increasingly obviously the kids not only had left of their own volition but it had been a calculated, planned affair.

Maddie would lie awake late into the night and wonder where it all went wrong? What had she, or any of the grieving parents, done to warrant their children to up and leave in the middle of the night. Something had happened, something that had been under their noses, something they’d missed. And they were now paying for it.

Back in the present moment, with her husband’s warm hands on her shoulders, her daughter’s increasingly more frantic voice talking into Danny’s phone that just kept ringing and her headache pounding worse than ever, all she could do was moan. “I don’t know, they’re just gone.”

The worst day of her life was just getting started and was going to continue for a long, long while.

#my writing #written to exile by taylor bc it hit that air of missed tragedy #gonna confess this would be the start to a much longer fic I've been playing with for a few days #one I do and dont want to write #so consider this my trial run if I want to continue this #i kept some of the specific details out so this functions just as is as a one shot #i just couldnt get the image of the families waking up to find the kids have abandoned their lives and ran out of my head #anyway happy wednesday have some grief :)#if its not obvious this takes place in the sweet spot when Danny and co are actively ghost fighting but Jazz knows but isn't in the group ye #I will say that ghosts are common knowledge so think about mid S1 between public enemies and the ultimate enemy

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cloudybarnes · 4 years ago

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Dynamic Duo

Pairing: corpse husband x reader

Summary: Being impostor together and killing everyone

Word Count: 820

Warnings: none

Main Masterlist

Corpse Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰

When you first met Corpse, you knew he would soon become someone special to you. The first time you played Among Us together, you clicked so well. The banter and laughter between the two of you was unmatched.

When you guys finally started dating, your gaming only got better. The two of you were an unstoppable duo. As crewmates, you guys could always crack the code. You bounce off one other and figure out who did it.

If one of you is crew and the other is impostor, it's easy for you guys to tell when the other is impostor. You guys know each other's tells very well, which ends up the one who is crew being killed early on.

As impostors together, the rest of the lobby is scared. Corpse and you are the best impostor duo. You work so well together; you can practically read each other's minds when it comes to your plays.

When you see the impostor cut on your screen, you smile. That smile only grows bigger when you notice your boyfriend Corpse is the other impostor.

"Oh boy," you grin to chat, "this is gonna be epic."

Polus was by far your favorite map as impostor. You faked keys and followed Corpse around as he faked tasks of his own. This wasn't uncommon for the two of you as you often stayed around one another.

While the two of you were in labs faking tasks, Ludwig walks in to do his.

You sigh, "sorry, Lud." In an instant, you kill Ludwig, and quickly vent to the outside of labs. Corpse follows in suit and you two run together to office to check vitals.

Very shortly after you check, the body is discovered by Rae.

"Body in labs!" She yells, "I need alibis and locations, please."

"Y/n and I are together." Corpse responded easily.

Rae fake gags, "what a surprise, the lovers are stuck to each other. Who else?"

You giggle, finding amusement in Rae's jokes.

Toast claims to have been running around watching people, Sykkuno was no where to be found, Poki was in Specimen so they are sus of her, Jack and Felix were doing asteroids together, and the others were scattered about.

So far, there was no sus on you or Corpse. When the meeting is over, and everyone skipped, you and Corpse fake your card task with everyone else.

You check admin table with Corpse following closely behind you. Two people in admin, two in coms, one in spec, one in labs, one in O2, and one in electrical. Someone else must just be running around. Probably Toast.

This is the perfect opportunity to get a double on the two in Coms since everyone else is scattered around. Corpse seems to have the same ideas he runs out to the left straight into communications.

You follow closely behind and see Jack on download with Leslie watching him. Quickly, you kill Leslie while Jack is preoccupied, and Corpse goes for the kill on Jack.

You laugh, "so smooth, Corpse!"

Corpse shuts the door to coms, and you see the doors to weapons close as well, so you assume he spam shut the doors.

You wait for your kill cool down to reset before you open the door to coms to escape. Right outside the doors, you are met with Toast about to come in. Out of instinct, you kill him with a slight yelp of shock.

You shut the doors on him to hide all three of the bodies. You do a little jiggle next to Corpse so he gets the idea to stay by the body as you run to admin to see where everyone else is. Since you two are now on six, you only need to kill two other people.

On the admin table, you see two in specimen, one in labs, and one in electrical. Perfect.

You grab as you run back to Corpse avatar. You do a wiggle as you run so he gets the memo to follow you. After a few tries, he finally follows you all the way to bottom decontamination. Inside specimen, you see Poki and Sykkuno. Poki is on Simon Says, and Sykkuno is doing download.

"Could this get any more perfect?" You smile to chat.

You run over to the side of Sykkuno as Corpse stands next to Poki. As if you were one in the same, the two of you kill almost simultaneously.

The victory screen pops up, and the discord chat goes crazy.

"How did you two possibly kill that many people without us finding them?" Rae shouted, amazed at how good you did.

You giggle, excited that the two of you did so well.

"Babe," you started, "I'm so happy we're on the same wave length all the time. Those kills were beautiful." You gush.

Corpse chuckles, "yeah, we make a killer team."

"Hell yeah we do."

#tehehehe I'm almost done my first request! just wanted to publish this first :)))#corpse #corpse husband oneshot #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #YouTube #youtubers x reader #my writing

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years ago

Text

There Comes Bad News (dad!Arthur Morgan)

A/N: This belongs in my dad!Arthur Morgan AU so if you haven’t read any of those fics, it might be best to read those. You can find my masterlist here!

Warnings: anxiety attack, language

Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: John visits Lupine Valley Ranch to warn Arthur of an impending threat.

***

You moved around the kitchen, humming as your eyes glided over the window behind the kitchen sink. You spotted Daisy in the temporary corral with Piper. The corral had been placed in the front yard where you would have a clear sight to Daisy as she spent time with the foal. Though Arthur could watch her since he was outside tending to a few chores with Charles’ help, you liked to be able to see Daisy while you were inside.

“You reckon that filly will make it?”

You jumped, turning to look at Hosea. He stood at the edge of the kitchen with a coffee cup in hand.

“Christ, Hosea. You scared me.”

He chuckled.

“Piper seems to be gettin’ stronger.” You wiped your hands off on a rag. “And she’s not missing a meal, that’s for sure. So I suppose I’ve got some hope.”

“Just hate to see the little one with her heart broken.”

“I know.” You nodded in agreement.

“It’ll be a shame if I have to beat Arthur’s ass for getting her a lame horse.”

You smiled at him, knowing he was half teasing and half being honest.

The sound of Carson barking caught your attention. He was alerting the family to someone coming down the road that led to the house.

“Who could that be?” You thought out loud, moving towards the front windows.

“Is that Carson barking?” Hosea asked as he followed behind you. “He sounds angry.”

You spotted John getting down from his horse before it even came to a full stop just in front of the house. Behind him was a cloud of dirt and dust he must’ve kicked up on his way in.

“Something ain’t right. Why’s he in such a hurry?” Hosea headed for the front door. You were right behind him, going out on to the front porch.

Your eyes flickered over to your husband, who was crossing the yard with Charles to see what John was doing.

“What’s got you runnin’ like you’re bein’ chased, Marston?”

“I saw Micah in Blackwater yesterday.” John held on tightly to the leather reins. He appeared tense and nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as his eyes flickered around as if he was taking count of everyone there. “Is Lucy here with you?”

“She’s home.” Charles shook his head. “Wasn’t feeling well this morning.”

“Wait a damn minute. You what?” Hosea rubbed his eyes.

“I saw that bastard. He was in Blackwater yesterday.”

You looked to Arthur, your stomach churning. His eyes very briefly met yours before he returned his gaze to John.

“I was runnin’ errands with Jack and Grace when I saw him. He was on a horse across from the bank with a couple other fellas.”

“How are you sure it was him?” Your voice was quiet as you spoke.

“Micah’s voice ain’t easy to forget.” John met your gaze.

“Did he see you?”

“Course not, Hosea. Got my kids outta there before he could see them.” John ran his hand along the shoulder of his horse. “I can’t stay for long. Gotta get back to Beecher’s. But I wanted to let y’all know he’s around.”

“Do you think he’s going to start looking for us?” Charles asked. Arthur shook his head, running a hand over his face. Even from across the yard, you could see the anger on his face.

“It’s hard to tell with Micah Bell.”

“At the very least, he’ll try to find Hosea.” Arthur spoke up, voice low and heavy with the weight of all the fears he’d carried for so long. “Hosea’s the only one who knows about where that Blackwater money is. The only other person who knew about it was Dutch and well….”

You looked down at your hands, taking a deep breath.

“Micah would do anything to find us. That includes goin’ to you, John.”

“I ain’t tellin’ him shit, Arthur.”

“I never said he’d ask nicely. Micah’s a sick bastard. He’ll go through Jack and Grace to get to you, to get to me and there’s no tellin’ what he’d do-,”

“Arthur.” You cut him off firmly. His eyes shot over to you. “Stop right now. There’s no sense filling John’s head with that. He doesn’t need to worry any more than he already does, I’m sure.”

Silence filled the air.

“Why don’t you bring Abigail and the kids up here, John?” Hosea suggested, moving to sit down on the front steps. “That way you all aren’t alone down there.”

“I couldn’t do that, Hosea.”

“Nonsense.” You shook your head, directing John’s attention to you. “We’ve got plenty of room. Daisy can stay in our room. That way you and Abigail can have your own room and Jack and Grace can have Daisy’s room.”

“I don’t want to crowd nobody. We aren’t a little family.”

“No, but you’re our family.” Arthur sighed. “It’s safer for you all to be up here with us and Charles and Lucy, John. You know that.”

John looked between you, Arthur, Hosea, and Charles for a few moments before nodding.

“I’ll talk it over with Abigail when I get home. Only problem would be Roxy and our livestock.”

“Roxy can come up with you. Carson gets along with her just fine.” You smiled.

“And if it’s just temporary, leave the livestock down there at Beecher’s. Me and you can go down every day or so to check on ‘em.” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright. I’ll see you guys soon.”

You waved goodbye to John and watched him disappear down the drive.

As he left, the weight in your stomach seemed to shift to your chest.

“Why don’t we take a little break, Charles?” Arthur told him, giving him a pat on the arm. Charles nodded and began to move towards the house.

“Maybe you and Uncle can share a room, Hosea.” Charles teased as he passed Hosea on the stairs.

“Bullshit. I’ll be sending Uncle over to your house. You and Lucy have too much room in that house of yours.”

Your eyes followed Arthur as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Your hands were folded at your waist, thumb rubbing against your skin as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“What?” He asked you.

“Why did you have to go put all those thoughts into John’s head?”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to scare him, Y/N. I was just tellin’ him the truth. Micah is relentless. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. He’ll go through anyone and anything.”

“But you didn’t have to put thoughts into John’s head about what that bastard could do to his kids, Arthur.”

“Hey, sweetheart!” Hosea greeted Daisy loudly as she approached the porch from behind Arthur. She carried a handful of wildflowers in one hand. “Where’d you get those pretty flowers, Daisy?”

“From the yard!”

Arthur turned his attention to her, smiling as she offered him a portion of the bundle.

“Here.”

“Thank you, sweetpea.”

The next bundle went to Hosea. He began to tell her of the different kinds of flowers she had picked up, and she gladly absorbed the information like a sponge.

As you watched her, you couldn’t help but think of Micah. Arthur was right. The man would stop at nothing to get answers, to get what he wanted. It would be nothing for him to kill an entire family just to get the answers he was looking for.

The more your mind lingered on the possibilities, the more the thoughts spiraled. The weight on your chest worsened and you suddenly gasped for breath, unable to breathe. Tears sprung to your eyes and you turned away, not wanting to ruin Daisy’s moment with Hosea.

But everyone heard your gasp and saw you turn away so suddenly.

Arthur moved up the front steps, brows furrowing together slightly.

Daisy tried to move past him to get to you but Arthur caught ahold of the material of her shirt, quickly stopping her.

“Daddy-,”

“Just give me a minute, sweetpea.” He cut her off gently. “Go back to Papa or Uncle Charles, okay?”

“Is momma okay?”

“She’ll be just fine.” Arthur kissed the top of Daisy’s head before moving towards you.

Since Hosea was still sitting on the front step, Charles moved towards Daisy, holding his hands out for her.

“What’s wrong with her, Uncle Charles?” Daisy opened her arms for him to pick her up but her eyes remained on the back of your head.

“Mommy just needs a minute with daddy.” Charles explained. “What kind of flowers do you have there, Daisy?”

While Charles had Daisy somewhat distracted, Arthur was able to tend to you.

His hand found the small of your back.

“You okay, pumpkin?” His voice was quiet and gentle.

You couldn’t speak. You knew the words would become jumbled in your throat or come out all too quickly.

He kissed your shoulder.

“M’sorry if…. if what I was sayin’ scared you.”

“It’s not….�� You shook your head. “Just…. Just me.”

“Is it him that’s got you this scared?”

You nodded, closing your eyes as you turned to face him. In the same instant, you were able to tuck your nose into the front of his neck.

“Pumpkin, you know I ain’t gonna let a damn thing happen to you or to Daisy. He’ll have to get through me to-,”

“Don’t.” You cut Arthur off, pulling away so that you could look him in the eyes. “Don’t you-Don’t you dare say that Arth-Arthur Morgan. I-I can’t lose you.”

He brushed the tears from your cheeks then pushed your hair back out of your eyes.

“I love you.”

You nodded and leaned forward to press your forehead against his lips. His hand rubbed up and down your back as you tried your best to take even breaths.

“Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to either of you. I’ll keep you safe, pumpkin.”

Hosea stood up from the steps and began to make his way towards the front door. He looked to Charles and nodded for him to come inside.

“She can go. Y/N’s probably gonna want her near.”

Charles nodded and placed Daisy on her feet.

“Behave out here.”

Daisy giggled, curious eyes watching her uncle disappear into the house. Then she looked to her parents.

You lifted your head and sniffled. Arthur wiped your cheeks again.

“That’s enough thinkin’ about all the bad. We’re about to have a busy house.” He told you. “What kind of things do we need to get done before they get back here?”

You said nothing, unable to shift your thoughts to something else.

There was a tug on your skirt. You looked down to see Daisy looking up at you.

“You okay, momma?”

“Yes, love.” You nodded, moving to sit down in a chair on the porch. This allowed her to climb into your lap.

“Why are you crying?” She reached up with her free hand to wipe your tears away.

“Because…. Well, ‘cause I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“What do you got there, sweetpea?” Arthur knelt down beside you. “Did you pick those flowers yourself?”

“Yeah! Papa said they are cornflowers, poppies, and daisies.”

“Daisies are momma’s favorites.” Arthur leaned in to whisper to her. “You think those might cheer her up?”

You smiled as Daisy handed you the bundle of flowers.

“Thank you, honey.” You leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Those cornflowers look like daddy’s eyes, don’t they?”

Daisy looked from the flower to Arthur, then back to the flower, and finally back to Arthur. She giggled and nodded her head.

“They do.”

“Don’t you think daddy’s got pretty eyes?”

“He does!”

“You girls are gonna make me all red in the face.” Arthur muttered, a shy smile coming to his lips as he stood up. “Is your room all cleaned up, sweetpea? Uncle John’s coming up here and Grace’s is gonna need somewhere to sleep.”

“A sleepover?” Daisy excitedly jumped down from your lap.

“Only if your room is clean.”

“I’ll go check!”

Your eyes followed her as she ran into the house. Then your eyes flickered down to the flowers.

“We’re gonna be alright, Y/N.” Arthur held his hand out for you.

“I know. We always are. It just…. It never comes easy.”

Taglist: @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @micahs-bird

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan x reader #dad!arthur morgan x reader #dad!arthur morgan #dad!arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fic #oneshot #queenxxxsupreme

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isthisthingeven0n · 4 years ago

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hear you : a.h

after celebrating your promotion with hotch, it tragically ends in an accident with you hospitalised and comatose. yet, somehow you can hear everyone around you, wishing for you to wake up. (1.9k)

all my links

hear you / every word

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Everything that night occurred in an instant. No one had time to change what happened, even if you wished the events had happened in a different order.

If you hadn’t left the restaurant first and walked ahead whilst Hotch admired the fleeting moment. You were laughing giddily as you turned to face him, his arms were crossed over his chest as you danced, still joyful after celebrating your promotion. Perhaps if he caught up to you it would’ve been someone else lying on the ground.

Yet, as you lie on the ground, life draining from your gaze you can’t help but wonder; what if?

The events that lead to you strapped to a hospital bed lifelessly could have all been avoided. If the driver hadn’t drunk away his sorrows before picking up his children, families would still be together and one less hospital bed would be filled.

All you can hear is the monotone beeping of your heart monitor. The stench of antibacterial sprays and gels embed themselves into your nostrils alongside the fragrant flowers from Garcia that litter your private room. But out of everything in your environment, there’s one thing you’re still waiting on; to hear him, to hear Hotch by your side.

What you’re currently certain of is that you’re asleep, comatose. Yet, you can hear everything. This was the sort of thing you’d witnessed happen in TV shows, and you’ve listened to Spencer sitting beside you, explaining to Penelope that there have been no claims of comatose patients hearing voices. How they can hear movements or faint sounds, but no details of conversations. All you can do is wait whilst you remain trapped in your own thoughts, unable to react to anything said.

Your daily routine since being ‘awake’ is being checked multiple times a day by various Doctors and Nursers. They’re very caring as they monitor your heart rate, brain waves, temperature and your comfort levels. You listen to them report technical jargon to one another, and now you wish you paid more attention to Spencer last week after he visited his old Doctor.

Thankfully, you’re allowed to have visitors which makes all the difference- even if they are oblivious to the impact they’re making.

The first person to visit you tends to be Garcia, you can hear the urgency in her footsteps as her heels click against the lament flooring. She sits with you for a while before work, telling you about how Morgan keeps singing out of tune whilst she is on the phone to him. You wish you could laugh at the little things she describes, hearing about your family try and carry on without you.

Spencer stops by after work with JJ. You can hear how his voice cracks when he sits beside you, JJ on your other side as she rests her hand on yours. Spencer recites facts about comatose patients and if often interrupted by JJ with some happier news about Henry and describes the drawing she brought. You wish you could see it, feel the textures of the paint and cotton he used.

Yet, as much as you love your family, he still hasn’t been.

“Hey, baby girl.” You hear Morgan walk over toward you, pulling the ancient chair out as it squeaks against the floor. “Garcia tells me you’ve been on your own all day,” He begins and you internally chuckle. “and we can’t have that so I thought you’d love nothing more than your best man to come on by.” Morgan nudges your hand playfully and laughs to himself.

You’re desperate to laugh along, joke back like old times, tell him how much Penelope has been going on about their phone conversations and the workplace issues that have arisen.

“I know you haven’t seen him yet,” Morgan’s tone changes, the light-heartedness has dropped. “but he has been trying, trust me, we see it every day.” A sigh follows from him, and Morgan drops his head in his hands, thankful you haven’t had to witness the state Hotch has been getting himself into.

“He tries every day to come and see you, baby girl. He, he makes it to the entrance of the hospital and just,” Morgan knows exactly what it is, but he doesn’t want to tell you.

Sometimes, the silence is enough for you to figure it out. ‘It isn’t his fault.’ You want to yell out, scream at the top of your lungs, but you remain motionless, simply listening.

Hotch enters the hospital every day since the accident. He came in with you, running by your side as you were wheeled straight into surgery. He stood still as the doors slammed in front of him, taking you out of his sight.

“But erm, we found out about the guy who caused this. His name was Robert Kingshill.” Morgan starts, unaware that both Penelope and Spencer have already explained the details to you. You home in and out of Morgan’s explanation about how Robert was an abusive husband, his children both under 5 years. “He died on arrival.”

‘And no one will miss him.’

“Sorry to interrupt,” A new voice chimes in, one of the nurses who has been seeing to you; Savannah. She’s sweet, attentive and engages with your family. “I just have to check her vitals, I’ll be a few minutes at most.”

“Of course, do you want me to step out?” Morgan asks, his voice softening after he clears his throat. You can almost picture him sitting up straighter, flashing that signature Derek Morgan smirk.

“It’s okay, are we still on for dinner tonight?” Savannah asks, catching you completely off guard as your heart rate spikes. “Shit.” She mutters, watching as your heart rate relaxes once more, back to a normal pace.

“What was that?” Morgan speaks up, concern lacing his tone.

Savannah remains silent for a moment, too long for your liking. “Just a spike, they can happen now and then.” She brushes it off and steps out of the room, leaving Morgan with you alone once more.

“Do you think she can hear us?” Garcia asks as her hand remains in yours, holding it gently whilst Emily hovers by the window, watching as the rain falls against the window.

A loud disheartened sigh echoes. “I don’t know, Pen.” Emily states as she turns around. “But if she can, it’s kinda rude for her not to wake up.” Emily chuckles, and Penelope joins in for a second.

“If you can hear us, Y/n,” Penelope starts, and you can hear the shake in her voice. “we all love you, and miss you dearly.”

“We’re all still here, and will be until you wake up.” Emily adds as she smiles to Penelope, holding her hand out as she gladly accepts as tears fill her eyes once more.

Sniffing to herself, Penelope glances over to the empty doorway. “And, and Hotch misses you, Y/n. I know, I know he hasn’t been here yet, but he loves you, and Jack does too.”

The thought of Jack causes your heart to ache, how you miss that boy deeply in the evenings when you would go over. Jack would always ask for your help with homework or read with him before he went to sleep. Last month, he called you ‘Mom’ and you didn’t know how to react, neither did Aaron. But you let it happen, and carried it on.

Just as Jack felt he had a new Mom, he was at risk of losing her too.

“Come on, we ought to go, let her rest.” Emily states as she walks over to Penelope, taking her arm.

If only they could hear you. You were done with resting.

It has almost been a month. At least that is what you hear them say. Outside it has become colder, snow comes and goes, but it never sticks. With ease, you can now clearly differentiate the nurses and the doctors’ voices, even by the sigh after they do their checks. You’ve heard them discuss your frequent brain activity, which is a good sign. They’re now thinking you’re going to wake up, that it could be any day. But then again, they’ve been saying that for the last two weeks.

Another Doctor walks in and checks over you, nothing out of the ordinary as you wish he would stop humming that awful TV show tune. “You have a visitor this morning, Miss Y/L/N.” He states which is unusual, your visitors are never announced to you, they just sort of appear.

Your ears perk up to the sound of shuffling, quickly followed by a restricted sob, one you sadly could pinpoint; Aaron.

“Hi, Y/n,” Aaron quietly speaks up, his voice hoarse as the chair scrapes across the floor and he reaches out, taking your cold hand in his. “I’m sorry I haven’t been sooner.” He turns to business mode, forcing confidence even though he’s breaking apart, seeing you like this. “I just,”

‘It’s okay, Aaron. Take your time.’ You want to tell him, that it’s not easy, nothing about this is. But you simply listen as he exhales shakily and he takes lifts his other hand, enveloping yours into both of his.

A small sigh breaks the moment of silence. “Jack, he keeps asking about where you are. I’m running out of options here, Y/n.” He chuckles out of worry. “Jessica has been great, taking care of him and everything, I’ve barely left my office since the accident.” Hotch explains, seeing flashes of light illuminating you that night, like an angel. The excitement in your expression turning to pure terror as he ran toward you, but was too late.

Hotch was always too late to save the women he loves.

“I just, I need you, Y/n.” Hotch mutters. “I can’t lose you too, I just can’t.” Soft cries sound from him as the door opens, and he sniffs quietly.

“Sorry to interrupt, I’ll come back later.” Someone speaks up, and Hotch nods to them before returning his attention to you.

He tried not to stare at the evident wounds and scars that will line your skin forever. The stitches on your forehead from where you hit the ground.

Hotch will never forget how he held you in his arms as you were bleeding, eyes glazed over as he yelled for you to keep your eyes open.

“I know sometimes things aren’t always easy for us, with cases and barely having time to ourselves. But I really wanted that night to be special, you deserved a night to be reminded how wonderful you are.” Hotch chuckles dryly, looking around the room. “Look where that got us.”

‘It’s not your fault, Aaron.’ You scream internally, wishing you could just take hold of his hand, squeeze it tightly and never let go. ‘Please, just listen to me, please.’

“I know it’s taken me too long to get here, but I don’t know if I can do this, Y/n.” Hotch’s voice hitches as his hands begin to slip out from yours. “Reid mentioned how talking to comatose patients is supposed to help but er, I guess we’ll eventually find out.”

Rising to his feet, you plead for him to stay, to not leave you here alone.

“I love you Y/n.” Hotch calls out as he stands in the doorway, seeing your chest rising and falling rhythmically, remembering the days where you’d lie beside him in bed, enjoying the moment of tranquil before Jack wound run through the door, waking you from a deep sleep. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”

As Hotch turns the corner, he can’t stop the tears from falling as he collapses against one of the walls. Silent cries sound from his lips as a Nurse approaches him, but he brushes her off.

“Aar,” Your lips begin to part, a faint sound leaving them. But then silence returns, and you’re still trapped in your mind, wishing he could return.

PART TWO

384 notes · View notes

mandoclan · 4 years ago

Text

SWEET HOME KENTUCKY // Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x F!Reader

A/N: 14.8k. Yes, this is a spinoff of Sweet Home Alabama. I love that movie and I love Whiskey, so here you go! This is Jack Daniels x Female!Reader, but there’s no Y/N mention (unless I missed one).

Warnings: Character Death (mentioned in passing), Fluff, Angst, Divorce, Physical Abuse (a punch and a tight grip), Drinking, Drunkenness, (basically, if you’ve seen the movie, I’ve deviated but no more than normal).

She still dreamed about that night. The one where Jack took her out to the meadow behind his mama’s house and told her he wanted to marry her one day. To which she asked, “Why would you want to marry me for anyhow?” and he replied, “So I can kiss you anytime I want.” Her first kiss. Her first love. And they were only twelve at the time.

It didn’t come as a shock to her when Jack had asked her to marry him right out of high school. She was his first love, after all, and Jack swore he’d loved her since before he ever kissed her in that meadow. But then he never showed up to their reception because he was still drunk from his “bachelor party” the night before, he was always gone on missions and attempted to stop her from doing the same even when they worked for the same intelligence agency, and she eventually got shot in the head in a mission gone wrong, resulting in medical having to use Alpha-gel on her to bring her back.

That fatal injury had broken her and it had broken Jack too. He hadn’t been able to protect his own wife when she was his partner, and that killed him inside. After that, he became almost overbearing in his protectiveness and you’d eventually asked Champagne for a transfer after a whole year of turmoil in your home, explosive fights, and missions spent arguing. Champ loved you and Jack like his own kids and wanted you and your husband to fix this, but he did as you asked and you’d transferred to New York without telling Jack with the instructions that if he were to ask that Champ would tell him that you were safe and in another Statesman office.

That’s where you found yourself now, leading the New York office after the last agent had retired. You’d built up your reputation from scratch, leading missions and directing agents in the Northeast region of the United States. You kept in touch with Champ barely, but it had been seven years since you left Kentucky. You refused to even think about Jack unless you were sending another copy of the divorce papers or unless you had that damn dream about the meadow again.

You woke to the sound of your office door opening, and you lifted your head from the desk you occupied on the top floor.

“How come you let me sleep?” You grumbled to your assistant when he stepped into the room with a mug of coffee and a mission report from one of your top operatives.

“You needed it, boss, but it was only for a few minutes. Long enough for me to grab your coffee and fetch the report from downstairs.” He shrugged. “Y’know, that accent of yours gets a whole lot thicker when you’re dreaming.”

That boy had the audacity to smirk before you narrowed your eyes at him.

“And what exactly did I say?” You demanded.

“That I’m gonna get a raise when you realize how awesome I am.”

“We’ll see how good your coffee skills are, then.” You laughed, finally smiling at him through your exhaustion. In all reality, you liked this kid. He’d just been assigned to you and hadn’t earned his agent name yet, but you had a feeling he would do just fine and you already had plans to promote him come next quarter.

“Enjoy.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “I’ll see you tomorrow for that meeting in the conference room, alright?”

The kid agreed and you nodded at him before making your way to the elevators.

Your apartment on the lower levels of the Statesman New York building was modest, but well-lived in. You’d wanted to make it seem as much like home as possible. This time, however, your apartment wasn’t as empty as usual. The entire entryway and living room were filled with rose petals and rose bouquets in glasses of water.

“Goddamn that man,” you swore, stepping around the petals and heading to the panel you had on the wall where an orange light was blinking, signifying you had a waiting message. A button was pressed and suddenly your boyfriend’s voice filled the room.

“There’s a rose for every moment I thought of you last night. God, you must be exhausted. Sweetie, listen, I’ll see you tomorrow at our meeting. You’ll do great. I love you. Bye.” The message ended and you rolled your eyes before heading over to the largest of the bouquets.

You loved your boyfriend, Agent Rum, but this was too much. You hated huge, sappy gestures like this and he knew it, but you supposed it was a bit sweet. Very few other ladies you knew had such attentive men at their sides and Jack had never done anything remotely like this. A sharp breath was inhaled in an attempt to nix that thought from your mind before you headed to your front door and made your way to the ladies’ dorms. You left an embarrassingly big bouquet in front of each door and sighed in satisfaction once you’d swept up and removed most of the flowers in your apartment.

_________________________________________________________________

The meeting you’d scheduled came sooner than you’d liked, this being a collaboration between the Texas office and your own New York one. Rum walked in and kissed your forehead before the meeting could even start and you smiled at him. He could always brighten your day in an instant.

“Thanks for the flowers, babe.” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand in yours. He grinned, asking if you really liked them, and kissed you before sitting in his spot along with a few of your other agents. You both slipped on your glasses and started the meeting, knowing that you could talk properly once the collaboration was agreed upon.

It felt like hours went by before all positions were assigned and the intel was decided upon. You groaned once you were able to remove the glasses needed to see everyone in their remote locations, rubbing your temples. Hands were felt on your shoulders, and you knew it was Rum. Your glasses blinked a light on the side and you sighed, placing them back on your face.

The blinking was due to a message from Agent AppleJack, one of your own agents whom you’d taken a shine to and often spent weekends going about the city with. She was a nice girl from Maine who had an affinity for seafood you couldn’t quite get behind, but you’d consider her one of the closest friends you had in this city.

“Please tell me he has a flaw somehow.” She had typed out. You rolled your eyes before moving your eyes on the on-screen keyboard to type a reply.

“He asked me to go to California for Christmas.”

“He’s gonna ask you a lot more than that,” was her reply.

“You think so?” You were suddenly nervous. You’d only been dating Rum for six months and your divorce still wasn’t finalized.

“Sweetie, let’s go for a walk.” Rum took you from your conversation, and you nodded, slipping the glasses back off your face. “You’re so stressed, but you did so well today.”

You both made your way to the elevator, hand in hand, and eventually you meandered around Central Park just talking about your jobs and how your last missions went. You rarely went on them anymore, but you made sure that Rum had as many as he liked to keep him happy.

“So have you made a decision?” He finally asked, bright eyes boring into yours.

“About what?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“California.”

“Babe, California? That’s four months from now. We don’t even have to decide right now because we can literally jump on any jet we have and go within 6 hours if we want.”

“I was thinking maybe 200 guests, tops.” Rum continued in his words, but you stopped him with a pull to his hand.

“For Christmas?” You asked, still very confused. “Rum, are you on some kind of medication I don’t know about? Should I take you off of field duty for a bit? Did you get shot or something?”

All of a sudden, Rum was kneeling in front of you in the middle of a pathway in Central Park, and everything finally made sense. He held a diamond ring in his hand, the light hitting it just right and you gasped.

“Brandy, and I should probably know your real name by now, will you marry me?”

“Are you sure? Because if you’re not sure we can just go back to work and forget all about this. It’s only been six months.” You floundered, not even sure what to say, but he looked so hopeful and you really did love him.

“Brandy, I love you. I didn’t come by this decision lightly, and I really hope you’ll say yes. I want to build a life with you.” Rum stood, looking you right in your eyes. “So, I’ll ask again. Brandy, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice and felt the ring slip on your finger. It felt strange, another ring being there, but you were suddenly overcome with joy that your life was finally falling into place and you had a man who loved you and wanted to build a life with you. That’s all you could ask for. So you kissed him.

He grinned once you’d let yourselves out of his arms and released him from your kiss, hand reaching for his agency-issue watch.

“I’ve got to tell my family.” He gushed, “Wait until you see the look on the guy’s faces!”

“Babe, do you mind if we keep this to ourselves for a while? With this collaboration mission with Texas happening and everything else, I’d rather just keep this quiet for a bit.”

“You don’t want to tell your family?” Rum asked, a bit confused. You cursed yourself in your mind because he didn’t know. The only person close to being a family to you was Champ, and you hadn’t really talked to him in ages. Close to seven years, actually, which was downright awful. The guilt gnawed at you.

“Sunshine, I don’t really, um, have a family.” You stated calmly, fingers soothing the back of his hand as he pulled a face.

“But—” he started.

“I have a mentor who I looked up to as a father, but I haven’t seen him in about seven years. I think I should tell him in person.”

“Okay, whatever you want, sweetie. I’m happy as long as you’re happy.” Rum smiled, and you sighed in relief.

“He’ll love you, eventually.” You reassured him.

_________________________________________________________________

First thing the next morning, you caught a plane down to Kentucky and found yourself driving along the battered country roads to the little farmhouse where you and Jack used to live. Your watch buzzed with an incoming call, but you didn’t answer, knowing it was AppleJack. You’d fill her in later.

You parked the car next to the oak tree that still held your swing. A dog came rushing down the steps, howling at you, but you didn’t mind. It was your dog, after all. A tall man in heavy work boots busted out the door, hollering at the dog and telling you that “he don’t really bite.”

The man looked at you without really seeing you, seeing only a woman in worn out cowboy boots and aviators covering much of her face. Her hair was different, so she didn’t really expect him to recognize her.

“What can I do for you?” The man drawled in his southern accent. You shuddered, not forgetting the way that voice sounded when you were in bed together at all times of day or night.

“Well, for starters, you can get your stubborn ass down here and give me a divorce.” You snapped, pulling the sunglasses off your face. Jack’s eyes widened once your words registered. “C’mon, Jack, I mean it. The joke’s over. We need to finish this so I can get back to my office and take care of my job.”

“You’re shittin’ me, right?” Jack spluttered.

You finally got a good look at him. He had shaving cream on the side of his face as if he hadn’t got a chance to finish before your hound was howling, but he’d kept his mustache. You hated to say that he looked good, but it was the truth. The years had been kind to him.

“You know, I’ve never actually understood that expression, but no, I’m not “shitting” you.” You groaned, pulling a packet of papers out of the glovebox of your rented truck and spreading them out in the bed. “Look, it’s even got these idiot proof tabs so you can’t mess this up. I’ve got one copy for you and I both and one for my lawyer. So c’mon.”

When you looked up at him again, he didn’t say anything but he certainly looked like he had quite a few things to say.

“Well?” You demanded, irritated that he wasn’t coming down off the porch to sign the papers like you’d asked him to.

“You show up here after seven years without so much as a ‘Hey there, Jack, remember me? Your wife?’ Or a “Hi, honey, lookin’ good! How’s the family?’” He had the audacity to laugh, finally stepping closer to the edge of the porch.

“You expect me to tell you that you look good? Bless your heart. Sweetheart, we’ve been separated for seven years. I’ve had it with your bullshit.”

“They like that attitude wherever it is you’ve been?”

“Cut the crap, Jack. You knew where I was. Champ told me you accessed my records.” You spat, moving closer to the porch. “And don’t you dare tell me you’ve spent all this time missing me.”

“Oh I missed you alright, but I’ve been going to the range more and practicing so my aim’s gotten a lot better.” He drawled, leaning against the railing.

“Is that a threat, Jack? I’ve got a lawyer who charges me an arm and a leg. He charged me every time you sent these damn papers back without your signature on the dotted lines.” You lifted the papers as you spoke, but he scoffed at you.

“Well, I’m glad to see you got the message.” He smirked, going to say something else but you were both cut off by the dog howling again due to your hostile tones.

“Shut up, Coal!” You shouted, but Jack shouted a different name. “What happened to my dog, Jack?”

“He died. You weren’t here.” He grumbled, turning to go back into the ranch house. You stood there in shock for a second before realizing what he was doing.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I’m leaving!” He shouted, back turned to you, “You done it, so you should recognize the process. I need to finish shaving my damn beard.”

“Jack, can we please just keep this civilized? For God’s sake, we’re both adults and agents. Please just sign the papers so I can go back home.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. This was a mistake, you thought. He wasn’t going to sign the papers.

“What do you know from home?” Jack spit, finally turning around to face you, fire in his eyes. “Hell, I bet Champ doesn’t even know you’re here, does he? That old man took you under his wing and trained you himself and you have the audacity to avoid him like he’s some annoyance?”

“That’s my business, Jack, so you stay out of it.”

“Honey, he’s the only family you got.”

“Don’t you ‘honey’ me, honey!” If looks could kill, he’d have died about ten times by now with the murderous look you were giving him.

“Get your ass back in that truck, drive over and see him, and maybe we’ll talk after.” Jack demanded, pointing his finger at your vehicle. He was headed back inside before you could even think, and you started shouting at him as you followed him up the porch.

“Jack, you idiotic, stubborn, no good agent! The only reason you won’t sign these papers is because I want you to!” You yelled, hands on the doorknob of the windowed door he’d just slammed in your face and locked.

“Wrong!” He shouted, trying to pull the blinds on the door that he could never get figured out. “The only reason I ain’t signin’ is because you’ve turned into some hoity-toity, wine-drinking, Yankee bitch and I’d like nothing better right now than to piss you off!”

He finally maneuvered the blinds mostly over the door as you dashed to the back of the house, but he locked that too before you had a chance to get there in time. He could hear your frustrated shout from outside and he chuckled in disbelief before heading to his bathroom to get rid of the rest of his beard.

“Divorce, my ass.” He grumbled. Jack came out two minutes later, wiping his face with a towel to find you lounging on his bed. He froze.

“Hey genius,” you smirked, anger still evident in your eyes. “Next time you wanna lock somebody out, make sure they don’t know where the spare key is.” You waved the offending object in the air, and Whiskey made a mad dash for it but you closed your fist before he could snatch it.

“Knew I should’ve changed those damn locks. It’d be nice if my wife had told me where the spare key was!” He growled.

“I’m not your wife anymore, Jack.” You said softly, “I’m just the first girl that climbed in the back of your truck. But you’re right, I have changed. I don’t even know the girl you married anymore.”

“Then let me remind you.” Jack sneered before grabbing his cell phone and heading back into his bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, Jack popped his head out of the bathroom.

“You bring any clothes with stripes on ‘em?” He asked, and you looked at him in confusion.

Red and blue lights flashed through the windows suddenly and your eyes widened.

“You called the sheriff?!” You gasped, jumping off the bed you used to share with the man looking at you with a satisfied grin on his face. “You know that old bastard hates me!”

“For good reason!” Jack shouted, still in the bathroom.

You made to run for the back door, but it opened to reveal a man you knew.

“Well, hell’s bells!” The man grinned, “If it isn’t our favorite Agent Brandy!”

“Tequila?”

“Hot damn girl, did we miss you! The agency wasn’t the same without you!” Tequila laughed, picking you up and giving you the biggest hug you’d gotten in a long time.

“I can’t believe you’re the sheriff!” You pulled on his badge for a second and knocked his cowboy hat off kilter to mess with him.

“Yep, I get to frisk pretty things like you all day and get paid for it.” Tequila put his hands around your waist and you slapped his chest.

“Aaron, can you try and be at least a little more professional? We got us a crime suspect here.” Jack emerged from the bathroom and you were struck with the fact that you hadn’t known Tequila’s real name until that moment. You quickly snapped back into it, though.

“Now, Brandy, you can’t just go breaking into your ex’s house whenever you feel like it, no matter how much they might deserve it.” Tequila—Aaron, you had to remember that—said.

“I didn’t break in. I used a key. My key, if you must know.” You snorted. Clearly, “Aaron” didn’t know that y’all were still married.

“Well, it still ain’t your house, Brandy. I’m gonna have to escort you out.” Aaron made to take your wrist in his hand, but you pulled away and grabbed the divorce papers you still had with you. You waved them as you heard Jack tell Aaron to use the cuffs on you.

“If you can get that asshole to sign these papers, I’ll let you run me out of town.” You smirked and Aaron laughed at your antics.

“Now that’s none of your concern, Aaron, you hear me?” Jack started, but Aaron was already taking the papers from you to look over.

“Well, what do you know. A bill of divorcement?” He asked. You nodded, and Aaron turned to Jack. “Hell, Jack, I thought you took care of this.”

“I thought I did!” Jack protested.

“Obviously not! Well, if y’all are still married, it’s her house too. This here ain’t nothin’ but a domestic dispute.” Aaron handed the papers back to you, and you smiled at him.

“He didn’t hit you, did he? If he took a swing at you, I’ll take him in right now.” Aaron told you quietly, out of earshot of your husband. You shook your head, because no, that man had never harmed you in ways that were physical. He’d only wounded your heart.

“No, he never hit me.” You replied quietly. Aaron nodded.

“Well, seems y’all got some catching up to do, so I’m gonna leave y’all to it. There’s nobody for miles, so Jack here can make ya scream all he likes.” Aaron winked at Jack, and you shouted in indignation. “G’night, lovebirds!”

“Aaron, I saved your life at least four times back in your Statesman years! You owe me!” Jack shouted, rushing to follow the sheriff’s retreating figure. He wanted you gone from his house in handcuffs if that’s what it took to get you to leave him alone about those divorce papers that he didn’t want to sign.

“Why can’t you just sign the damn papers, Jack?” You yelled after him, and he fixed you with the nastiest stare you’d seen in a long time.

“Listen, Jack. There’s nothing I can do. Your wife’s done nothing wrong, so I can’t just haul her in for nothing. Y’hear me?” Aaron blocked the doorway with his large frame as he lifted his hands in mock surrender.

“I suppose shoplifting steaks at the grocery store’s okay.” Jack spat.

“I took ‘em back and you know it!” You screeched back.

“You remember that vandalism out at the stockyard? Totally her!”

“Like I could tip a cow by myself at sixteen.” You growled, and Jack groaned. He couldn’t hit you with anything from your Statesman years either because that was all “classified information” you didn’t have to answer to. But Jack got an idea.

“Hey Aaron, isn’t there some outstanding warrant for whoever dumped your old man’s tractor in the fish pond?” Jack smirked triumphantly, making eye contact with your horrified expression. And then the cuffs were on your wrists and you were making your merry way to the county jail in the back of his cruiser.

“Now you know I didn’t have a choice, sweetheart.” Aaron smiled ruefully once y’all reached the station. He’d ended up hauling you off in cuffs just like Jack wanted and you were seething.

“This all could have been avoided if he’d just signed those damn papers.” You grumbled. “Can I make a call?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. You’ll get a couple minutes once I book ya.”

You rolled your eyes, taking the photos Aaron needed to do for “legal purposes.”

“You know that’s gonna get wiped once I make my call, right?” Aaron had the audacity to laugh, knowing exactly who you were going to call.

“I know. Tell big daddy I miss him.” Aaron pointed towards the phone.

It rang for a few seconds before a secretary's voice filtered on, saying the usual crap the Statesman company was supposed to yodel on about.

“Hi, I’ve got a word for you, lady.” You spit out, “Lemon drops suck.” You heard the operator say something about holding on for a moment and then a familiar voice was asking who you were.

“Champ! It’s Brandy,” you shouted, “Listen, I need a favor.”

“Name it, darling. You know I’d do anything for you and that wonderful husband of yours.” He drawled on for a moment and you smacked the phone receiver into the box.

“I need you to pick me up.”

“Well, where are ya? I’ll send a car or whatever it is you need.”

“That’s the thing. I’m in town. But, I need you to come get me from the jail.” You said after a moment. A groan came through the receiver and you winced.

“Alright, darling, I’ll be right there. I’m assuming it’s the usual one, then?”

“Yeah.”

Fifteen minutes later, the man himself was strolling through the door.

“I’m here for my girl, Tequila.” Champ rolled his eyes at you once he saw you waving. He had you out and your record erased within five minutes, and then you were back in his familiar old truck that smelled like whiskey and gunpowder. He accepted a muttered thank you while you drove off towards the Statesman offices.

“So what put you in jail this time?” Champ finally asked.

“Jack and his big, fat mouth.” You grumbled. “It was just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

“Kinda like that wedding I officiated, huh, darling?” You refused to make eye contact.

“I would hardly call that a wedding.”

“The boy was nervous.” Champ chuckled.

“He was still drunk from the night before!”

“Can you blame him?”

“Yes, I can! We’re supposed to be professional agents and he goes and gets piss drunk the night before we’re supposed to get married. I went to the reception by myself with his puke on the side of my dress while he slept it off at the hotel. And you’re still siding with him!”

“I ain’t siding with nobody, so get rid of that idea. Y’all two are my best agents and I need you both.” Champ stated firmly. “The boy’s changed is all.”

“Can we just not talk about Jack? I know he’s like the son you never had, but you also called me your daughter and all that, so can you just ask me what’s new with me or something instead?”

“Sure. Shoot.” Champ looked disinterested, and you had the feeling that he’d kept up with you better than you’d kept up with him. Curse the archives for always spilling your secrets before you ever could.

“I met somebody. And he’s quite a catch.” You started, and Champ raised an eyebrow beneath his larger than life cowboy hat. “And I’m happy. Really.”

The rest of the drive was held in silence, neither of you feeling like talking much. He pulled into the Statesman gates and led you inside, scanning his ID card on an empty apartment in the back of the warehouses where agents could sleep during the longer missions.

“Sleep well, sweetheart. We can talk about all this in the morning.” He kissed your forehead and you hauled your bag inside. “I’ll take you to get your truck in the morning, don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.”

_________________________________________________________________

In the morning, you were on the phone with your lawyer, walking around the Statesman compound and attempting to avoid the various tour groups that were unaware of the real reason this distillery existed.

“How long does a contested divorce take?” You asked, exasperated that you had to do this now of all times because your no-good husband wouldn’t sign the divorce papers. “18 months? Mr. Collier, I don’t even have 18 days, really!”

The man told you that was how it had to be, you informed him that this arrangement wouldn’t work, and he was informing you of a different option when you heard someone wolf whistle at you, throwing out some jab.

“Ain’t seen the likes of you around this place much!” The man shouted from his horse.

“Mr. Collier, that’s just not going to work for me.” You groaned, trying to block out the man catcalling you from his horse. Clearly this was some junior agent. “Mr. Collier, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

“Listen here, bubba, why don’t you kiss my ass!” You shouted up at the guy, but screamed in happiness once you realized who it was. “Oh my god, Moonshine?!”

“Let’s go inside then, missy, because I don’t do that kind of thing out here in front of the guests.” Moonshine smirked at you, jumping down from his horse.

“I guess your mama raised you right, then.” You laughed, hugging him. You’d missed Moonshine, who’d been one of your first friends in the agency aside from Jack, of course. “I better back off of you before your little lady tries to come beat me up.”

Moonshine looked sheepish.

“There is a little lady, isn’t there?”

“I can hardly afford me and my unhealthy addiction to firearms and whiskey, let alone some high-maintenance babe.” Moonshine laughed.

“What about Cara what’s-her-name? From the class outside of ours? Y’all had real chemistry on some of the missions I supervised.”

“She transferred out to the Alaska branch, and uh, I wasn’t her type.” Moonshine scratched the back of his neck and you hummed, understanding the situation.

“That answers a few of my questions. Guess we all have our secrets, don’t we, Moonshine.” You grinned, your suspicions about him batting for the opposite team nearly confirmed.

“Yeah, we sure do.” Moonshine climbed back up on his horse, tipping his hat on the way. “I gotta get back to work now, missy, but are you gonna be in town for awhile? Me and a few of the guys are going down to our normal watering hole later tonight if you’re up for it.”

“I hope I won’t be here long. I have to go see Champ, but I think I’ll see you boys tonight.”

“Well, I better scram if you’re seeing the boss man.”

“Very funny. I’ll see you later, Moonshine.” You waved the man off and made your way inside, scanning your own ID card on the entry doors and taking the elevator up to Champ’s office.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t my favorite agent.” Champ drawled from his seat at the head of the conference table.

“Hey boss man, care to give me a ride to town so I can get my truck?” You asked, leaning up against the door jam and waving your keys. He laughed, standing up and grabbing his own keys from his desk.

“C’mon then, little lady. I did make you a promise. You can tell me all about why you’re here on the way over.”

_________________________________________________________________

Once you’d picked up your truck from the jail’s parking lot, you made your way to the bank. You hadn’t accounted for Jack taking as long as he was to sign the divorce papers, so you needed some cash for necessities.

Of course, the bank didn’t have an ATM. You cursed yourself for forgetting as you stepped inside. The bank guard’s eyes widened once he laid eyes on you, telling whoever it was in the teller’s booth that he was going to take a break outside. You winced once you remembered that this was the same man whose farm you and Jack and a few of your old friends had gone rolling pumpkins in year after year. He probably hated you.

You approached the teller, but didn’t recognize her. She clearly recognized you, though.

“Well, if it ain’t the queen of the New York Statesman office.” She grinned. You narrowed your eyes, attempting to figure out who she was when the lightbulb clicked.

“Jenny? Oh my god. I haven’t seen you since you and Tequila got hitched! You look amazing!”

“Thanks, sweetie! So do you. What can I do you for?”

“I need to make a withdrawal from my—“

“Joint account?” Jenny smiled like she knew something you didn’t, which knowing her, she probably did.

“My what?”

“Your joint account. With Jack? From what I hear, y’all are still married.”

“Why yes, yes we are.” You grinned, a plan already formulating in your mind.

_________________________________________________________________

It was after five when Jack got home, but you’d already got to work. You had on one of his favorite dresses that you’d found in a trunk somewhere, one of your homemade aprons, and a wide smile once he walked in the door.

“Hi, honey! Lookin’ good. How’s the family?” You grinned up at him, serving food onto two plates in the dining room.

“Cut the shit. Where’s my stuff?” Jack growled, chucking his hat on the couch along with his whip and lasso.

You smiled where he couldn’t see it, glad to see he’d noticed what you’d done to the place. There were new appliances in the kitchen, a new couch and loveseat, a flatscreen tv, a new rug, and Jack assumed you’d also done something to the bedroom. None of the things he’d had laying around since you left were where he could see it, and the sight agitated him.

“Now what kind of wife would I be if I didn’t pick up after my husband? Dinner’s ready in five.”

“The kind that don’t live here.” Jack groaned, hands raking over his face. “Now, I’m gonna ask you one more time—where is the house key?”

“I had the sweetest talk today with Tequila’s daddy.” You started as you ignored him.

“Nice to see you got your accent back.”

“Oh, I stumbled on a few things today.” You said, noticing Jack had gone to the kitchen, likely in search of a beer.

“Holy shit!” He shouted, and you stifled your laughter. “What happened to the stove?! And where are them little magnets I got from my travels, huh?” He opened the fridge and groaned.

“What the hell is this? Chick food?” He gestured to the fridge that you’d restocked with fresh fruits and vegetables, and new groceries that weren’t stale takeout containers.

“Light beer. Less calories, honey.” You smiled brightly, missing Jack’s murderous expression. He grabbed a can anyway and popped the top off.

“I tried to pick out a new bed today, but the mattress store only had old models. I’ll have to order something from New York.”

“Whatever floats your boat, honey.” Jack muttered, taking a deep swig of the beer you’d bought. He’d have to find his stash of whiskey and hope you hadn’t gotten rid of it.

“Oh, but darlin’, I thought you said we should think of it as our money.” You saw him freeze where he stood, and continued your crusade. “Just a guess, but I’m thinking the words ‘joint checking’ are flashing through your mind right now.”

“How much did you take?” He whirled around, effectively forcing you into the kitchen.

“All of it.” You replied simply, enjoying his facial expression.

“Son of a bitch!” He cursed, chucking the now empty beer can into the trash can and rubbing his face with his hands.

“You wanted a wife, you got a wife, honey,” you spat, “and what were you doing with all that cash? Why don’t you invest it? We work for a perfectly good company with shares for sale, don’t you know anything?”

“I know if you don’t get out of my house right now—”

“Sign the papers and I’ll give it all back.”

“Fine—fine!” He shouted, “gimme the pen.”

You rummaged in your packet for the pen and laid out the papers on the dinner table. You made to give him the pen, but thought better of it.

“Hold on. What are you doing with all that cash saved up? And since when did you tell Champ not to put you on anymore active missions? You aren’t doing anything illegal, are you Jack?”

“So what if I am? I don’t ask you about your boyfriend, you keep your nose out of my life.” He spat out, not making eye contact with you. You deflated.

“Who told you?” You asked quietly.

“Honey, just ‘cause I talk slow don’t mean I’m stupid.” He said in a much quieter tone. He almost sounded hurt.

“Look, Jack—” you trailed off.

“For god’s sake, nobody finds their soulmate at twelve years old.” He mumbled.

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jack almost smiled. Your eye caught something on the mantle and you looked up to see a horseshoe and a photo of your parent’s old farm.

“I can’t believe you kept that all these years,” you murmured, eyes trailing over the familiar old farm. It had burned down four years after that photo was taken, taking your parents’ lives with it. Jack looked at you before looking at the clock on the wall.

“Oh, hey sweetie, you know what? I just remembered I got myself a hot date.” Jack grinned maliciously, unbuttoning his collared shirt as he spoke. Your eyes moved from the picture to the skin being revealed and suddenly were at a loss for words. “You don’t mind if I have my lawyer take a look at these, do you?” He tossed the papers back on the table and left the room.

“What?!” You gasped.

“Hell, I’m just a dumb intelligence agent with no regards for the law. There’s words in there I don’t even know. You might be takin’ me to the cleaners for all I know.”

“The cleaners? You? You ain’t been there since our wedding, if you even washed your suit for that,” you scoffed. “Can’t you just sign the damn papers?”

“Nah,” he grinned from the doorway to his bedroom, “but thanks for stoppin’ bye. It’s been a real treat.” And then the door was slammed and you screamed into a newly-purchased throw pillow.

You’d realized after about ten minutes that Jack wasn’t coming back into the living room. In fact, his dramatic ass had jumped out the window and you heard his truck starting up outside.

Tequila had made an offer, though, and you planned to take up the social obligation. Besides, if Jack was as predictable as he’d always been, his “hot date” was probably at his mama’s bar where everyone in that little town went to unwind.

Your phone rang once you were outside the noisy bar near Jack’s truck, and you answered at once knowing it was your fiancé.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” You smiled into the phone and Rum’s happy voice spilled out.

“Are you sitting down?” Rum asked.

“Why? Bad news? Did the mission blow up or something?” You panicked. You knew putting this in Rum’s hands would only backfire if something happened.

“No, no! Nothing like that. I was just going to tell you that I read the mission reports and everything went exactly to plan just like you said it would. You might be up for another promotion, babe.” Rum reassured you.

“Oh my god, really? Oh, I needed that almost as much as I need to see you.”

“What is that noise?” Rum finally asked, and you assumed he could hear the loud music and shouts coming from inside the bar.

“The sound of my past.” You grimaced.

“Have fun. I love you.” Your fiancé finished, and you returned the sentiments before hanging up the phone and waltzing into the bar. You were immediately greeted by a screech and an older woman who was still spry was pulling you into a tight hug and yelling over the music.

“Batten down the hatches, boys! Trouble done just walked back into my life disguised as my favorite daughter-in-law!” Helen grinned at you. “Honey, gimme a hug, it’s been too long.”

You laughed while you hugged her and stepped back to show her your ring.

“Soon to be ex-daughter-in-law.” You stated proudly.

“Ooh, who’s the lucky guy?” She asked, inspecting the diamond on your finger.

“His name’s Blake and he works with me.” You winked, and she nodded in understanding. She knew about a little of the work you and her son did, but she mostly stayed out of it, claiming that the stress would bring her to an early grave.

“Well, he’s got my vote if he picked out a ring as pretty as that. It’s good to see you, baby girl.” Helen gave you a pat on the shoulder and told her bartender to give you whatever you wanted. You asked for a whiskey on the rocks and nearly laughed at the irony of the situation.

Once your drink was in hand, you scanned the room, looking for your husband. You spotted him in the corner with some young blonde thing and rolled your eyes. A quick march found you standing right behind Jack and you flipped the edge of his cowboy hat.

“Mind if I join you?” You asked sweetly, leaning up against the pool table beside him.

“Actually we do.” Jack said, raising an eyebrow. He was challenging you, but you ignored him in order to set your sights on his date.

“You must be Jack’s hot date.” You grinned at the girl and she put a hand out to shake yours.

“I’m Carly.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Jack’s snotty, Yankee-bitch wife whom he refuses to divorce even though I’m engaged to another man.” You shook her hand, and the girl gasped once she saw your ring.

“Hot dog, Jack, look at the size of that thing!” She gushed. You nearly rolled your eyes at how dumb she was acting just in an attempt to impress your husband.

“Honey? Why don’t you get us a couple of drinks, yeah?” Jack turned to Carly and handed her a few bills. The girl smiled, popped her gum, and proceeded to ask you what you were having. You rolled your eyes then. “Not ‘me and her’ us, ‘you and I’ us.”

The girl agreed and scurried off, and then you turned to Jack.

“Why do you make me be mean to you? Is that what you want? To be humiliated in front of all your friends?” You snapped, frustrated that he was taking this so lightly. He shook his head and downed the rest of his own glass of whiskey.

“C’mon, Brandy, they were your friends too.” You heard Jack mutter, nodding towards a few agents who’d just walked over with their drinks. You recognized a few guys who’d been in the class behind you along with Moonshine. He nodded at you and ordered a beer before heading over to say hello.

“Alright, Brandy, you sit down while I teach your husband here how to lose at pool.” Moonshine grinned, pulling a bar stool over to you.

“Now Moonshine, I’m not really a watch and see kinda girl, am I Jack?” His expression was priceless as he took up the challenge.

At least six drinks later, you were definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol and you landed somewhere near Moonshine as he lined up his shot.

“Come on, now, Moony, you got it. Don’t blow this one, okay baby?” You drunkenly giggled and Moonshine laughed at your inebriated state.

“You can take the girl out of the honky-tonk, but you can’t take the honky-tonk out of the girl.” He missed the shot, but you didn’t care anymore, more focused on the conversation Jack was not-so-quietly having with Cognac? Coors? You couldn’t remember his codename, but it didn’t matter. Jack was talking about you.

“So, Whiskey, are you gonna divorce this girl or what?” The agent asked. Jack shook his head.

“She’s waited seven years. A couple more days won’t kill her. Unfortunately.”

“Like it’s gonna make a difference.” You snorted, nearly falling into his arms but stabilizing yourself at the last second.

“You never know,” the agent started, “you might be interested to know that Whiskey here has been—”

“Hey, hey, Cognac, let her think what she wants. She made her mind up about me a long time ago.” Jack cut him off, making you wonder just what it was that he didn’t want you knowing about.

You quickly forgot that thought, though, when Moonshine started yelling and telling Cognac he owed him fifty dollars. Cognac groaned, forking over the cash.

You didn’t really know what happened next, but you got into a shouting match with one of the other agents and eventually asked Helen for another round of drinks, but she quickly cut you off. Then you were shouting again as Jack dragged you out of the bar by your arm, yelling at you, saying that you couldn’t just insult everyone in the bar because you’d made it out of Kentucky but they were happy where they were.

“What makes you think you can treat them like somethin’ you stepped in, huh?!” Jack demanded as he put you right up next to his truck.

“You asked for it!” You yelled in his face, trying to get your keys out of your pocket. Jack quickly grabbed them.

“You show up here, you steal my money, you rearrange my house, and then you insult our friends, actin’ like you’re better than them.” Jack spat. He was angry and you knew it, but you couldn’t seem to stop.

“I am better than them! And you stole my keys!” You whined, wanting to be anywhere but here with your husband who was telling you that you were wrong. He was right, but you wouldn’t admit it.

“That’s all that matters to you, huh?” He asked in disbelief.

You tried to say his name, but he cut you off.

“God, ever since you left, this has been a nightmare. The money, the fancy office, the city, you’re pathetic!” He raked a hand through his mustache and you got lost in the action right before spitting out a comeback.

“Oh, like you’re goin’ places!” You groaned, a splitting headache appearing out of nowhere. “I certainly am once I get my keys back.”

“No, you don’t. No. You want to kill yourself driving, you do it somewhere else. But not here, not on my watch.” Jack said, putting your keys into his own pocket.

“At least I’m doing something with my life. So what if you and I aren’t partners anymore, you can still go on missions. You don’t have to worry about me anymore!”

“Get in the truck, Y/N.” Jack opened the door and guided you inside, defeated. His date was waiting by the door and you noticed them having a quiet conversation before he handed her your keys and made his way back to the truck.

You fell asleep before Jack even got on the two lane highway that led to the Statesman offices where he knew you’d been staying. Champ didn’t say anything when Whiskey carried you inside your temporary apartment, snoring away, but he wished things would work out between the two of you. His hopes were dashed as soon as Whiskey asked for a pen to sign the papers you’d brought with you.

When you woke up, still hungover from the night before, the divorce papers were stuck on top of the pillow beside you. You wished you could say you were happy about it, but you couldn’t deny that a pit was in the bottom of your stomach.

Once you rolled out of bed and had some coffee, the papers were sealed into an envelope and you drove to the post office to mail it out. You’d talk to Jack afterwards and apologize for your behavior.

When you got to the familiar farmhouse, you found Jack’s dog Midnight lounging at the base of the porch. You scratched his ears, and he whined happily at the attention he was receiving. The dog got up and raced up to Jack when he came out of the house with a crate.

“What’s she doing here, huh, boy?” He asked the dog before turning to face you, “Thought you’d have high-tailed it out of here by now.”

“I put the money back in your account.” You said quietly, searching his face for any emotion whatsoever.

“Thanks. Saves me from bouncing a lot of checks.” He smiled at you, a genuine smile, and it caught you off guard. “I like what you did, though, to the house. Should help it sell quicker.”

“You’re moving?” You were surprised. This was the house you and Jack had gotten and fixed up together in the early stages of your marriage and it held a lot of good memories along with quite a few bad ones.

“Well, I’ve been spending a lot of my time a bit south of the distillery, so . . .” he shrugged.

“Oh.”

“Look, hon, I signed your papers.” Jack sighed, finally hauling the crate into the back of his truck.

“Jack, I never meant to hurt you, or anybody else for that matter. And I just came out here to say thank you.” You finally said.

“You might want to move your toes.” Jack nodded towards where your feet were in reference to his truck tires. “Wouldn’t wanna run ‘em over since you need them for field work.”

“You can’t just leave!”

“Sure I can.” He chuckled, hopping into the cab. “You want to come?”

“Where you goin’?”

“I want to show you something.” Jack said solemnly, and you wished you could go. Something made you stop, though.

“I can’t.” You finally answered, defeated.

“Can’t or won’t?” Jack asked you, already knowing the answer but asking anyway.

“Both.”

“The girl I knew used to be fearless.” Jack leaned against the steering wheel to get a good look at you. You looked so much like the woman he’d once known so intimately, and yet so different. A lot had scarred you both and he recognized that.

“The girl you knew didn’t have a life.” You smiled weakly, fighting back tears.

“Well, I guess you better get back to living it then. C’mon, Midnight.” Jack got his dog in the cab with him and drove off, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

_________________________________________________________________

You didn’t know what possessed you to stay in town now that the papers had been signed and mailed out, but you found yourself in the town square that evening for the weekly square dance night.

“Hello.” You murmured sheepishly once you’d spotted Tequila and his wife, Jenny, and Moonshine, and a few of the agents from last night at the bar. “I just wanted to apologize to y’all. Last night was so uncalled for, and I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

“Brandy, forget it.” Tequila told you, a smile gracing his face. “You know we don’t stay mad for long.” The group nodded, and you smiled in relief.

Jenny pulled you to the side and handed you a glass of sweet tea.

“You know, he went up there.” She said, sort of secretively.

“Who?” You were confused about what she was talking about. But then she looked at you oddly and you suddenly knew. “Jack? When?”

“About a year after you left. He doesn’t know I know, but Aaron “big mouth” Tequila over there can’t keep a secret to save his life nowadays.”

“Jack was in New York?” You asked, completely surprised. You’d never seen him. He’d certainly never come to see you and say hello. Jenny nodded.

“He told Tequila he’d never seen anything like it. He realized straight off that he’d need more than an apology to win you back. He needed to conquer the world first. He’s been tryin’ ever since.” Jenny told you, downing her own tea.

“That’s why he kept sending the papers back.” You murmured, and Jenny nodded at you again.

“It’s funny how things don’t work out.” She sighed.

“It’s funny how they do.” You smiled warmly at her, knowing she was happy with her life and how it was turning out.

“Hey, look who I found wandering around the edge of the party.” Moonshine cheered, shoving Jack in the center of the group you were with. He had the nerve to look a bit sheepish, knowing you were there, but you were the one who blushed. After that, it was a whirlwind of everyone catching up on the times and you found yourself smiling at Jack.

The band finally started playing a slow song, and Tequila got up to ask you to dance, leaving his wife to drag Jack into the square. The both of you danced for awhile before Tequila stole his wife back, which left you and Jack standing face to face. Jack held out a hand to you to offer a dance, but you hesitated.

“Maybe we could just talk?” You asked him quietly. He shook his head and walked off, a sigh escaping your lips once you realized you were alone.

The night wore on with you on the sidelines, drinking sweet tea, and finally you made your way down the street towards your truck. Something stopped you, though, and you made your way into the coon dog cemetery on the edge of town. Maybe Coal was in there. You didn’t realize Jack had been watching you and finally ended up following you, and maybe you wouldn’t have been so honest in your talk with your old dog if you’d known.

You knelt beside the dog’s grave, his collar and your old license plate stuck to the stone placed above him.

“Hey there, buddy. Sorry it took me so long. I would’ve come sooner if I’d known you were sick.” You sniffed, fingers running along the etching of his name in the stone. “Actually, that’s probably not true. I’ve been pretty selfish lately. Dogs don’t know anything about that, do they, though?”

“You were always a big old pillow after missions. Like when everything went pear-shaped after I got shot, you never left my side. And then I just left you. Oh gosh. I bet you sat there on that big old porch, wondering what you done wrong.” You sobbed, wiping the tears away.

“I told him it was my fault.” Jack’s voice broke you out of your concentration and you whipped around to see him kneeling behind you.

“Quit bein’ so nice.” You sniffed, a small smile breaking through your tears. Jack offered you a hand to help you up and you accepted it. He led you to a bench right near Coal’s grave and kept holding your hand.

“It’s the truth.” Jack stated.

“How come everything has to be so complicated,” you asked tearfully. Jack smiled softly at you.

“What?” He asked finally.

“Truth, life, this,” you gestured between the two of you and towards the hand he was still holding in his grip. Jack didn’t answer that, not that you expected him to.

“He was one hell of a good dog, wasn’t he? You looked like you were having fun out there tonight before I got there and ruined it.” Jack mumbled. You brushed a thumb over your intertwined hands softly.

“I’m happy in New York, Jack.” You laughed wetly, “But then I come down here and this fits too.”

“Since when does it have to be one or the other, darlin’? You can have roots and wings, you know.” Jack told you. You nodded.

“Maybe I could just fly south for the winter.” You joked miserably.

Jack finally pointed out towards the woods and nudged your shoulder, “Look.”

“What?” You asked.

“There, see ‘em?” You followed his pointing finger until you realized that he was pointing at fireflies illuminating sections of the woods with their blinking behinds.

“Only you,” you laughed fondly, looking up at him. You couldn’t deny it, Jack was still just as handsome as the day you married him even if the years had gone by.

“You know, I still go out there sometimes. To the meadow, I mean. I hear the crickets and I go and sit in the field and stare up at the stars like we used to. It’s like a religion.” Jack revealed, turning to look down at you to gauge your response.

“I had a dream about it the other night, our first kiss when we were twelve. Remember that?”

“You ever wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t gotten shot and died on that mission?” Jack asked bluntly. You were surprised and whispered his name.

“Just, let me get this out before I can’t.” Jack started, “I thought us working together on missions would be an adventure. I loved seeing you be this beautiful badass and I loved being the one who got to love you. And it took me awhile to realize that being tied down to me would be your only adventure.”

“I guess that thug knew what he was doing then, aiming at me. I was so ashamed, Jack, ‘cause I felt so relieved once I woke up and remembered everything. And all of a sudden, I just . . . Needed a different life. Y’know? I had to get away.” You were almost frantic in your story, the painful memories resurfacing of how you just ran away from your husband with no explanation. Gosh, the number you did on him.

“You done real well for yourself. I’m proud of you, sugar.” Jack told you sincerely, fingers brushing your hair away from your wet cheeks. “I’m just sorry I never danced with you at our weddin’. I’m sure this next one’s gonna go better for ya.”

You looked up and suddenly your lips were on his and it felt like you were breathing real air for the first time since you left his home and abandoned him. It felt good, his lips brushing yours in just the right ways, but you couldn’t do this.

“Jack, I can’t do this.” You whimpered through your tears. He nodded.

“I know. Go home, Brandy.”

And just like he’d appeared, Jack disappeared in the dark, leaving you alone with your conflicted emotions.

_________________________________________________________________

The next morning found Jack entering the Statesman offices as a man on a mission. But he found an unfamiliar man with flowers in hand, pacing in the lobby.

“Y’alright there?” He asked. The man whipped his head up and sighed.

“I’m here to surprise my fiancée. The secretary won’t let me in because I don’t have a Kentucky Statesman badge, only a New York one.”

Jack quickly realized the situation, knowing immediately that the man was there to see you without needing to be introduced. He also knew that you were probably in Champ’s office, talking smack about missions like you used to do.

“Well, I’m headed upstairs to see a friend of mine, but you’re welcome to join.” Jack motioned to the elevator, and your fiancé quickly nodded and followed him inside the cab. Jack rolled his eyes at the guy’s eagerness.

“So, fiancée huh? Which one of our lucky agents is it?” Jack drawled, knowing full well who this man meant.

“Agent Brandy.” The man answered, “and you are?”

“I’m Agent Whiskey. Who might you be?” Jack smirked.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Agent Rum.” Rum laughed sheepishly. He was quite a bit smaller than Jack and had to look upwards to make eye contact.

“Ah, so you’re the man Brandy was talking about.” Jack couldn’t help but meddle a little in his ex-wife’s affairs.

“You know Brandy?” Rum asked, surprised.

“Course I know her. I know all about her.” Jack grinned down at the man, “I know her name, her whole life story, everything. She was my partner.”

“She never mentioned you.” Rum stammered. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same girl?”

Jack described you, and Rum nodded, but that description would match a few agents and Rum wasn’t sure Jack really knew who you were. Joke’s on him.

Moonshine got in the elevator and froze once he saw Jack with your fiancé. He’d looked Rum up as soon as you’d mentioned him, and the look Jack had on his face was downright scary to someone who knew him. It was like a lion playing with its prey.

“Uh, uh, hey Whiskey.” Moonshine stuttered.

“Morning,” Jack smiled. “Brandy here?”

Moonshine nodded.

“Yeah, yeah she’s here. She’s with big daddy.”

“Wonderful. I’m just escorting her fiancé here up to meet him.” Jack nodded towards Rum who waved a hand. Jack couldn’t figure out how this man got to be an agent, all timid and shy next to Southern guys. He seemed like a schmuck.

“Oh, that’s great.” Moonshine nodded emphatically.

“I’m sorry, you are?” Rum asked, in reference to Moonshine.

“Name’s Moonshine. I’m Brandy’s, uh—” her turned to look at Jack to figure out what to say.

“Her other partner.” Jack finished. Rum smiled at the two.

“Wow! Two partners while she was here. That’s something.”

Jack rolled his eyes behind the man’s back.

“So what do you like about our Brandy?” Jack finally asked him, directing the both of them to exit the elevator. Champ’s office was just down the way, but Jack wasn’t ready to leave this man with you yet.

Rum spouted off a lot of things that Jack knew you weren’t like whenever y’all were married and he quickly realized that the woman you were with this new guy wasn’t anything like the woman he married. The woman he’d seen in the last few days. This was a woman who had completely changed herself to fit New York, and that just made Jack’s stomach churn.

Finally, he pulled Rum over to Champ’s door and he threw open the doors. You were sat inside, alone, staring at a few photos on the wall before you looked up and made eye contact with your ex-husband. You stood quickly, walking over to the two men standing before you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at Jack.

“Well, I came to deliver your fiancé.” Jack stared at you real hard.

“I, uh, think she was talking to me.” Rum cut in, handing you the bouquet of flowers he’d been holding.

“Jack . . .” You trailed off.

“Must be exhaustin’.” Jack started.

“What?” you asked softly. Rum echoed the question beside you, finally realizing that you and Jack were talking to each other in a way that wasn’t normal to him.

“Livin’ a lie.” Jack finished, hand shoving his hat further on his head. You shook.

“What’s he talking about?” Rum asked you, and you looked back at Jack, pleading for him to be kind.

“You and I are in love with two different people.” Jack said with a shake of his head as he left the room.

“Who is he really? He said he was your partner.” Rum asked you, staring after Jack’s retreating figure.

“He’s my husband.” You answered.

“Your what?” Rum was dumbfounded.

“I mean my ex-husband.” You gasped, correcting yourself.

“You married your partner?!” Rum was running his hands through his hair, trying to wrap his mind around the situation and realizing just how little he knew about you. Had you up and married another man while you were down here? Were you married before? You interrupted his thoughts with a quiet answer.

“No, I came down here to finalize my divorce.” You sighed.

“Hey darlin’,” Champ burst into the room, “just saw your precious hubby and took his resignation.” He froze once he saw who was with you. “Oh! You must be my baby girl’s new someone!”

You groaned internally.

Rum threw up his hands and made some new noise you’d never heard before then promptly left the room. You scurried after him, trying to get his attention.

“Blake! Wait!”

“I just—” Andrew started as he pressed the button on the outside of the elevator.

“Let me try and explain, you don’t understand!” You tried to wedge your way between him and the door, but he easily slid past you. You slammed your arm against the side of the sliding doors to keep them from closing. “This isn’t who I am anymore!”

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what else you’ve lied about, but I do know one thing. There’s a helicopter parked outside in the field, and I am on it.” Rum’s face was stony as the doors closed.

You stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, trying to grasp the situation. A sigh escaped your lips before you made your way back to Champ’s office to slump down in a chair.

Champ was sitting at his desk, Statesman glasses perched on his nose and a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He looked up right as you made eye contact and gave you his signature “I told you so” look. You groaned.

“I know you’re thinkin’ I spoiled things real good this time.” You grumbled, chucking your hat on the table.

“Now, sweetheart, don’t go accusin’ me of thinking. I ain’t done anything of the sort.” Champ snorted. “Anyway, I don’t think you spoiled what you think you did. You got a good head on your shoulders kid, and I love you.”

You talked for awhile, catching up on life and missions and things you hadn’t spoken of in years when a knock sounded on the open door of Champ’s office. Champ nodded whoever it was inside, but you didn’t even look up until Champ looked at you with a knowing smile.

“Hey, you two. Look who I found wandering around by the weapons labs.” Moonshine nudged someone forward and you finally looked up. Agent Rum, your fiancé, was in front of you with the sorriest look you’d ever seen on his face.

“I thought you’d be halfway to New York by now.” You said slowly, not sure why he was still here. Your little interlude an hour before sounded like a breakup if you’d ever heard one. You stood up and moved to stand beside Champ, knowing he’d back you up if needed.

“So did I.” Rum smiled sheepishly, nodding toward Champ.

“Oh, this is Agent Champagne, but we call him Champ. He’s basically been my daddy since I started here.” Champ reached up squeezed your hand in reassurance and you moved closer to Rum. “And this is Moonshine. He’s been my best friend for a long time, well, as long as I’ve been good to him. He’s always been a better man. This is where I started, where I grew up, and my home.”

“Well,” Rum started, “it’s nice to meet you both. I’m Agent Rum, Brandy’s fiancé. That is, if she’ll still have me.” You looked at him in surprise. “ Look, I don’t really care what just happened back there. So you have a past. I mean, who doesn’t? We’re all trying to escape something in this life. What I need to know is if there is a place for me in your future.”

“Good Lord, he’s saying all sorts of sweet things.” Moonshine muttered and you laughed at him.

“Well?” Rum asked. You nodded with a small smile.

“Crap, guess I need to plan my vacation days to go to New York then.” Champ grumbled at his desk.

“What vacation days, old man?” You sassed Champ. You turned back to Rum, “Babe, what if we had the wedding here? I have so much history here, I’d like to end it all here and start fresh with you.”

Rum smiled and agreed and Champ started hollering about how he couldn’t believe you were going to do this to him again, how he’d have to officiate yet another wedding, and how many times does his only daughter get married? Apparently the answer was twice.

_________________________________________________________________

A month went by before you knew it, full of missions and planning and setting up temporary groups while you’d be on your honeymoon. In between all you had to do in the Statesman offices, you were also wedding planning. Luckily, you had Champ and his wife to help with all that along with AppleJack and your assistant.

Mr. Collier, your lawyer, had been calling nearly every day, but you’d assured him that you had everything handled and that he could clear the divorce without you. You’d been calling Jack a lot too. You wanted to talk to him about what Champ meant when he said Jack had retired, and why no one seemed to want to talk about what he was doing. But he never answered his cell and your old home phone seemed to be disconnected.

It still didn’t feel real that you’d be getting married on Saturday afternoon as you stepped off your Statesman jet at the airfield in Kentucky on Thursday with Agent AppleJack and your assistant—now newly minted Agent Smirnoff.

“You guys remember that mark from a year ago on that mission I was on for about three months, right? The Spanish one?” AppleJack was telling you. You nodded, remembering who she was talking about. He’d been rugged and good looking, and you’d told her as much when you handed her the mission. “Well, he proposed to me, and I think I loved him despite his obvious attraction to black market trading.”

“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Smirnoff asked.

“Because I hesitated long enough to realize my head and my heart were saying two different things. And he was on the other side of the legal fence.” AppleJack scoffed.

You guided the two of them towards your waiting truck and chucked your bags in the bed of it. Theirs followed as they argued.

“Well, it’s a big decision.” You added in.

“It’s supposed to be the easiest one you ever make.” Smirnoff said. You’d always thought he was a romantic, and now you were sure of it.

“Hey, y’all, I want to stop somewhere before we head to the office. Okay?” You turned to look at the two of them, and they shrugged before agreeing. It wasn’t like y’all had much to do today anyway. Champ had already assured you that the cellar was decorated and pretty for you and Rum to tie the knot, and that he’d already arranged everything for your honeymoon too.

You drove the forty-five minutes it took to get to your parents’ old farmhouse where you used to live before it had burned down, taking both your parents with it when you were nineteen. You hadn’t been there since a few days after the fire when you’d set up headstones for your parents on the property, but you wanted to tell them what was going on.

The driveway was long, but you were surprised to see how well kept it was. Then the house came into view along with Jack’s pickup truck and a familiar black dog lounging on the steps. You slammed on the brakes and parked right off the driveway, jumping out of the vehicle.

“Oh my god.” You gasped, looking at the place. It looked nearly identical to the house that burnt down, but there was a new barn in the back of the house and fence posts as far as you could see down the drive that kept going. Your dad had never cleared that far into the woods, but it looked good. It looked like a really successful ranch had been started right where so much devastation had taken place.

“Brandy, do we know the people who live here?” AppleJack asked, finally catching up to your quick walk towards the house. “What is this place?”

A man walked out of the house and froze once he saw you, and you hardly heard both AppleJack and Smirnoff arguing about if he was single.

“Jack,” you breathed. He stepped down off the porch and came over to you, greeting you with a sad smile. “I tried to call you a couple of times.”

“Listen,” he started, completely ignoring your previous statement, “since you’re here, you and your friends should look around. Say hello to the horses in the barn or something. It’s nice out today.” He tipped his hat towards your two companions and called his dog, making his way back into the house before you could say anything else.

You shook your head, trying to clear your eyes of the tears that had somehow started filling them. As you looked around the ranch, you saw all the little things that Jack had done, as well as the big, that made this place feel so much like home. It was almost exactly the way it had been when you lived there so long ago, and you were reminded of the photo Jack had on your old mantel. You’d asked him why he kept it, but he hadn’t answered then. And the times when the guys you used to work with were trying to tell you that Jack was successful now, but Jack had cut them off. Now you knew why. He’d built this place for you.

_________________________________________________________________

When you got to the Kentucky office, Champ was waiting for you downstairs.

“Hey, little darling, there was a man here for you. He straight up asked about your whole name and everything. Did you have a guest coming for the wedding we didn’t know about who’d know your civilian name?” He asked. Your brow furrowed as you shook your head. “Alright, well we sent him on his way, anyhow. I’m sure it’s fine.”

You introduced him to your two companions and Champ grinned, happy to meet two people you trusted with your life. You asked him if Rum was here yet, to which Champ nodded and guided you all inside. “Got here about two hours before you, sweetheart.”

Once you were inside, it seemed like a whirlwind of things happened as you readied yourself to get married for a second time. The next 36 hours were hell, waiting for everything to be finalized so you could get hitched.

It was Saturday morning and Champ had stationed two low ranking agents to man the guests as they filtered into the cellar where you’d be holding the wedding. So far, only agents were to be in attendance and a few plus ones, but you’d wanted to keep it small. So when a balding man appeared and introduced himself as Mr. Collier, telling the two agents that he wasn’t on the list, they promptly told him that he couldn’t come inside as he wasn’t invited. The man insisted he had urgent business with a Ms. Daniels, but the agents weren’t having it and escorted him out of the cellar.

Meanwhile, at your old house, the one you had shared with Jack, your ex-husband was adding the last few crates and boxes of his and your things to his truck. He groaned once he saw his mama leaning up against her car in the driveway since he hadn’t seen her pull up.

“Hey, sweetheart, there’s a wedding goin’ on.” She said softly, helping him throw a gym bag into the backseat of his truck.

“Yeah, I heard mention of it a time or two.” Jack shrugged, “I sure hope this weather cooperates. It’s supposed to be a big storm.” He didn’t want to give into his mama and tell her how he really felt about all this.

The truth was, Jack was devastated. He’d spent so much time trying to get his wife back, and now she was marrying a man he knew she didn’t love as much as she loved him, and it hurt. It felt like something had died inside his chest, and he supposed something did. His heart.

“You know, Jack, you’re my only son and I love you, but sometimes you are too much like your daddy.” Helen sighed.

“She made her decision, Mama.” Jack set the last box in the bed of the truck and covered them up with tarps to keep ‘em dry.

“For somebody who’s been holdin’ onto somethin’ so hard, you’re pretty quick to let it go.” Helen eyed him.

“You know I can’t control her anymore than I can control the weather. I gotta go. I wanna get these inside before the rain ruins whatever I’ve got left.” Jack tipped his hat at his mama and climbed inside the cab. Helen shook her head in disappointment.

Champ stood in the corner of the apartment you’d been occupying in the Statesman office that weekend, watching you adjust your dress and cowboy boots. He smirked once he realized you’d be getting married, Southern style with the boots and a dress that he swore he’d seen in one of those fancy Southern Living magazines his wife was always reading. Or was it Southern Weddings? He didn’t know, but you looked beautiful. Even more so than the first time he’d officiated your wedding to Jack.

You kept fidgeting, causing Champ to speak up.

“It’s just nerves. You’re doing the right thing.” He attempted to reassure you.

“Am I?” You asked, unsure.

“When I married my wife, Lord, I was a goner for that woman. I couldn’t put one foot down in front of the other, despite being an agent with perfect balance, mind you. I remember standin’ there thinking, ‘Oh preacher, better hurry up before this woman changes her mind.’ And look where it got me. Sometimes she drives me so crazy that I could shoot her, but—”

“But you still love her.” You cut him off.

“God knows I do, and only she knows why.” Champ laughed, his eyes teary as he looked you over.

“Champ, I think I—”

“He can give you a life in this company, honey. You’ve always wanted this. And he adores you.” Champ said firmly, not letting you get back on the confusion train.

“He does, doesn’t he?” You sighed, “Well, even if he is a Yankee, at least he’s sober. Let’s go, Champ. I’m ready to get this over with.”

Champ led you down to the cellars, and then down the aisle. He didn’t get you two very far, though, when a man’s shouts were heard yelling “Ms. Daniels! Ms. Daniels!”

You whipped around, confused about why someone would be calling you by your married name. “Mr. Collier?” You asked in surprise. The two agents supposed to be manning the door had grabbed him by now, but you were quick to dismiss them.

Rum called your name, but you held up a hand to stop him from speaking. You didn’t know why Mr. Collier was here, but it had to be important if he was trying this hard to get in contact with you. The man took a moment to catch his breath.

“You are one hard woman to get in contact with.” Mr. Collier wheezed as he bent over to breathe.

“Mr. Collier, he signed the papers.” You said quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“He did. You didn’t.” You finally noticed the papers he was holding and sucked in a breath.

“What? You mean I’m still married?” You asked, unsure how you felt about this new information. You thought for sure you’d signed the papers when you’d sent them off the day after Jack had signed them. Apparently, you hadn’t. Mr. Collier pointed at the line above Jack’s name, and sure enough, it was blank.

“Well, not if you don’t want to be.” Mr. Collier replied gently as he handed over the papers.

“For goodness sake, Brandy, I thought you took care of this?” Rum groaned as he made his way to stand in the aisle beside you.

“It’s an honest mistake, Blake.” You shook your head in disbelief.

“Well, then, can we fix it? We’ve got agents who need to be on missions soon and we have a honeymoon to get to.” Rum snorted. Your brows furrowed as you watched this normally kind man getting frustrated over a mistake you hadn’t even realized you made.

“Does anybody have a non-deadly pen?” You asked, knowing no one would have one on them unless it had ten functions to kill someone and not one of them being the purpose of a real pen with ink that would actually stay on the paper. You’d made the mistake before of signing something with ink that removed itself within two hours and you didn’t want to make that mistake again.

No one around you had one, not even Champ, until a woman behind you cleared her throat. You turned around to face your mother in law, Jack’s mom.

“These things don’t just happen, y’know.” Helen said with a knowing smile as she held out a fountain pen. You took it and uncapped it, placing it on the paper but not moving to sign it.

“You can’t ride two horse with one ass, sweetheart.” Champ said from beside you. You looked up at him and with a watery smile, you told him you couldn’t sign the papers.

“Blake,” you started, taking his hands in yours, “You don’t want to marry me.”

“I don’t?” He asked, eyes almost looking dangerous.

“No, you don’t. Not really. You see, the truth is—” You hesitated before continuing. “I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart, and I never really got it back. And I don’t even know what else to say besides ‘I’m sorry.’ I can’t marry you, and you shouldn’t want to marry me.”

“So this is what it feels like.” Blake muttered, eyes definitely glittering with anger now. “You can’t just do this to me. That’s it? You’re just going to leave me for the man you haven’t even wanted to be married to for seven years? God, Brandy, what the hell!” He shouted.

You took a step back, attempting to make space and remove your hands from his, but he held your hands tightly. You gulped, knowing Blake wasn’t done.

“In my entire career, and I have a good one, I have never met someone so deceitful and manipulative! I should’ve known, considering our occupations, but this is so disgusting what you’ve done.” Blake spat.

“I’m just trying to be honest.” You whispered.

“You are such a little bitch.” Blake roughly dropped your hands and Champ immediately stepped in, crowding the shorter agent.

“Now, look here, Agent Rum. She said her piece and there’s no need for name-callin’, you hear me?” Champ growled.

“Oh go back to your office and get shit-faced.” Blake spat at Champ’s feet. You saw red.

“Nobody talks to my daddy like that.” You growled, throwing one of your best punches. Agent Rum was soon on the ground and you chucked your engagement ring at his head. It hit his cheek and bounced off somewhere, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Praise the Lord, my baby’s back.” Champ cheered, pulling you away from your ex-fiancé.

“Hey y’all!” You shouted as you stood up on an empty chair in the venue, “If you’re friends of the bride, stick around! I’m gonna go find me a groom!”

And then you were off, grabbing your keys from Moonshine and hopping in your truck, wedding dress getting stuck in the door. You didn’t care, though. You knew exactly where Jack would be and you planned to go get your man back.

You roared into the meadow, truck chassis bumping around on the uneven ground. The door was flung open and you were racing across the field, dress bunched in your hands. Rain had started falling, and Jack was sitting in the bed of his truck getting sopping wet. He had a bottle of whiskey in his hands, but he hadn’t quite noticed you yet.

“Hey, cowboy!” You shouted above the rain and he whipped around to face you, eyes wide beneath the brim of his hat. Rain dripped off the edges and you almost laughed at how bedraggled he looked, but refrained. “You owe me a dance.”

“Nice dress. Where’s your husband?” Jack finally said as he capped the whiskey bottle and set it down beside him in the truck bed.

“I’m lookin’ at him.” You said, and Jack froze. “Apparently, you and I are still hitched.”

“Is that right?” He asked slowly as he got off the tailgate. He made his way over to stand in front of you, rain still pouring over the both of you to the point where you could only really see him anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me you came to New York?” You asked desperately, needing to know if he still wanted you, if he still loved you.

“I needed to make somethin’ of myself.”

“About done?” You asked in disbelief. This man was already enough for you, how could he not see it?

“What is it about you Southern girls? You can’t make the right decisions ‘til you tried all the wrong ones?” Jack scoffed. He was sure this was some elaborate joke, that your fiancé would hop out of your pickup truck and laugh at him any minute now.

“At least I fight for what I want!”

“Oh, what do you want, honey? Hell, I don’t even think you know.” Jack shook his head.

“You’re the first boy I ever kissed, Jack, and I want you to be the last.” You said as you stepped closer to him, dress dragging in the grass and dirt. You didn’t even care, not if it meant you could get your husband back.

“Maybe you and I had our chance.” Jack muttered, hoping you couldn’t hear him, but you did.

“Fine! Have it your way, stubborn ass!” You yelled.

“Whatcha wanna be married to me for anyhow?” Jack asked, repeating what you’d asked him all those years ago when you were twelve. You grinned, catching up to his game.

“So I can kiss you anytime I want.”

And then you were in his arms and he was kissing you, his hat dumping water on the both of you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were already soaked. You’d gotten your man back, and you sighed into his mouth. You didn’t want to move again, the feeling of his kiss bringing life back into your lungs and giving you space to breathe for the first time in a long time. He just felt right. Hands wandered up his back and you knocked off his hat in an effort to get even closer to him. He groaned when fingers locked into his now soaked hair, tongue slipping into your mouth when you whined.

You only broke away when you heard someone yelling at the both of you, lights shining right onto your interlocking figures.

“What the hell are you two trying to do? Get yourselves killed?” Tequila yelled. You laughed, breaking away from Jack just long enough to shout back.

“What seems to be the trouble, officer?”

“I’m here to bring you in again, little lady!” Tequila called back, hands on his hips and looking downright hilarious.

“What did she do this time?” Jack shouted. He walked you both closer to Tequila and the man had the audacity to grin at the two of you.

“Well, the way I hear it, seems she run out on a perfectly good cake!”

You laughed and smooched Jack on the cheek before reaching down to grab his hat from the ground.

“Get in my truck, cowboy!” You grinned, “Seems we finally get our reception!”

You raced your husband to your truck, hopping in and laughing at the way you both shivered from the cool air you’d had blasting. Jack swore and turned on the heat as you got yourselves out of the meadow and started following the red and blue flashing lights of Tequila’s patrol car.

You reached a hand over to hold Jack’s and he lifted your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to the knuckles.

“I love you.” He murmured and you returned the sentiments, happy for the first time in a long time.

Tequila led you to the bar Helen owned, and you laughed once you realized where the guys had decided to hold your reception. It was only fitting that the place where you’d originally hosted your first reception was now the place of your second, and with the same man no less.

Tequila made his way indoors first and introduced you, yelling out a “Ladies and gentleman, Mr. and Mrs. Jack Daniels!”

You rushed inside, nearly tripping over your boots and dress, but Jack steadied you, dipping you for a deep kiss just inside the door.

Catcalls filled the air as Jack lifted you back up, a boyish grin gracing his lips.

“I do believe I owe this lady a dance,” Jack nodded at his Mama by the jukebox and she smiled at the two of you.

“You sure do!” Moonshine shouted.

“Hey Helen,” you turned to Jack’s mama, “make it a slow one.”

She saluted you, and then hit a button, playing Tennessee Whiskey. Jack snorted at the song choice as he held your waist in the middle of the space they’d cleared for a dance floor, but you didn’t mind. You’d always joked that the song was about him with his Statesman name, and he hated it. You loved him, though.

You had your husband back and you weren’t ever going to give him up again. You swayed to the song for a moment before leaning up to kiss him. Finally, you were home.

#jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x female reader #jack daniels #agent whiskey #statesman #sweet home alabama #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #jack ‘whiskey’ daniels #mandoclan #mandoclan writes

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vicekings · 3 years ago

Photo

June 13th, 1993: the Disappearance of John Edward Graves

Content Warnings: Alcohol Abuse, Child Abuse, Spousal Abuse, Violence, Attempted Strangulation, Murder.

Summary: On a stormy summer night, John Graves disappears.

Everyone in town knew that John Edward Graves was not a nice man.

To call John mean would be an understatement. Everyone in town knew John was a cruel and vindictive drunkard with a hair-trigger temper, along with the strength to back that temper up. They saw his mountainous form lumber into town and instinctively stepped out of his way. People kept their heads down and their voices low. They were especially quiet when they found the courage to whisper out the rumours of how he treated his poor quiet wife.

Everyone in town knew that John Graves was not a nice man, and no one knew it better than his poor quiet wife, Theodosia Walker.

She’d fallen into the marriage when she was young and dumb and convinced that, even if the rumours about his rowdiness were true, she could most certainly fix him. After all, Theodosia could fix most anything she’d set her mind to fixing. She’d tend to him in the same way she tended to her pretty little garden: with care and love and plenty of singing. She’d read once that singing to plants was supposed to help them grow. She’d sung to her plants ever since.

But singing to her husband, well, that had never really helped. As a result, Theodosia didn’t really sing much anymore.

The simple truth of things was that there weren’t nothin’ in this world that could ever really fix a man like John Edward Graves, because he was the kind of fella that wasn’t willing to be fixed.

———

When John Graves went missing after the worst thunderstorm of the season, the other barflies assumed he’d never made it home. He’d been at Donovan’s Pub into the early hours of the night, only leaving when the owner forced him out. Any offer of a taxi ride made to him was thoroughly refused. John had climbed into his beat up old piece of shit of a truck and took off into the night, never once looking behind him.

John’s truck was found on the side of the road the next morning. The sheriff had it towed on account of it obstructing traffic. Everyone assumed that John had gotten lost on his way home, what with how drunk he was when he left. He’d probably tried to take a short cut through the woods. He’d probably stumble his way out when he’d sobered up.

After the mandatory 48 hours of waiting, Mrs Theodosia Walker-Graves went down to the station to file a missing person report. The sheriff bought his dogs out to the site where the truck had been found. From there, they followed the scent until it hit the brook that ran through the woods. The scent trail went cold in the water. The dogs couldn’t pick it up again after that.

When the sheriff informed Mrs Theodosia that her husband had likely fallen into the brook in his drunken stupor, she tearfully accepted his condolences. They both knew well enough that the brook flowed down into the part of the woods where the bears made their dens. They’d be about as likely to find his body as they would a needle in a haystack.

An empty casket was buried in a lonely plot at the old church, with the headstone bearing the words John Edward Graves, father & husband, 1955 - 1993. As far as the town knew, the storm and his own stupidity had gotten him. In some way, it really did.

———

The truth of it was this:

That night, John’s truck had broken down on the road home, and he’d been forced to walk the rest of the way. He’d taken his shortcut through the woods, stumbled through the rushing brook, and made it safely to the other side. He’d come up to the house around 3 in the morning. He was drunk, angry, and soaking wet, and right when he stomped onto the front porch, the power went out.

Dahlia’s screaming started immediately after. The girl, aged only 4, had been terrified of the dark for as long as she’d understood what the dark was. Her little nightlight died with the power, plunging her room into darkness. The following thunder boom woke her up. Fear seized upon her in an instant.

She’d always screamed when the power went out, always cried and cried and cried until her mama came to calm her down. On that night, her daddy got there first. It was unfortunate for her that her daddy was who he was.

John Edward Graves was not a man you could show weakness around.

He had little Dolly by the collar of her nightshirt when Theodosia burst in, pulling her roaring husband off her wailing daughter. Even in the dark of the room, Theodosia could see the way the handprint burned red against her daughter’s pale cheek. She turned on John with all of the rage of a mama bear, and sharply demanded to know what the fuck he did to her girl.

What John said in that moment was lost to history. It was remembered only in the mind of Theodosia, who still felt fury burn through her like a hot knife through butter when she thought back on it years later. Little Dolly was too young to truly understand what was going on, and her siblings were quite accustomed to blocking their father’s voice out, but Theodosia held on to every word.

The ensuing fight travelled down the stairs and onto the porch. Most fights ended with John storming off to his truck to get drunk, leaving Theodosia crying silently out front. On that night, however, John was already drunk, and Theodosia was already crying, and the screaming only escalated.

Theodosia was almost certain she was going to die.

Somewhere between claps of thunder, John had gotten his hands around her throat. He’d shoved her hard against one of the porch’s oak posts. With each breath she tried to take, the pressure on her windpipe only increased. She struggled and kicked as hard as she could in a desperate attempt to break free. The lightning flashed, John’s grip tightened, and Theodosia was certain she was going to die.

In the next clap of thunder, Theodosia found herself falling to her knees. Air rushed into her wheezing lungs, knocking her back. She struggled to adjust to her sudden drop. How in the hell had she gotten free?

The answer to her unspoken question came in the form of her son in her peripheral vision. His daddy’s shotgun was held tight in his shaking hands, aimed squarely at his daddy’s chest. John was clutching at his side and howling at her boy like a wounded beast.

Every name in the book was thrown at the boy with a shotgun in his hands and fear in his eyes. Jack Douglas, JD, her little Dougey, had taken the gun from its mount above the fireplace and blasted his daddy off of his mama. That should have been it.

That should have been it, but John was still moving.

With one arm tight to his side, John lunged for JD. When his fist met JD’s face, Theodosia ran. Every instinct screamed for her to turn back and protect her boy. She ignored the urge, instead lunging for the wood chopping block. It was there that she found the hatchet.

It was old, it was heavy, and it was wickedly sharp. The very hatchet that she’d brought with her from her family’s farm when the newlyweds first moved into their home now brought an end to that marital bliss. As John wrestled JD for the shotgun, Theodosia came up behind him and buried the hatchet in the back of his skull.

The first strike brought John to his knees, but it did not kill him. The second, when Theodosia managed to wrench the hatchet from his skull and strike him with it again, also did not kill him. Whether or not the third killed him didn’t truly matter. It was far from the final blow.

Strikes rained down on John’s body, as fast and hard as the pouring rain. Thirteen years of anger and pain rushed from Theodosia. Thirteen years of putting up with the drunk piece of shit she once thought she could fix. Thirteen fucking years, washed away in a stream of blood and rain. It seemed poetic, in retrospect, that JD stopped her on the thirteenth strike.

“He’s dead, Mama.” JD whispered, coming to kneel next to her in the mud.

Slowly, gently, he pulled the hatchet from her hands and set it aside. Slowly, gently, he pulled her into a hug. Theodosia buried her face against JD’s shoulder and cried the last of her tears.

“We’ve gotta bury him.” JD murmured.

Theodosia pulled away, wiping her eyes on the back of her fist and nodding. “Go make sure your sisters are okay, baby. I’ll handle him.”

She could almost smile at that. How many times had she spoken that phrase in the last decade?

“Dory’s got Dolly, they’ll be fine. I ain’t letting you do this alone.” JD replied, taking her hand and squeezing it in his.

At 13 years old, JD had not yet grown into the strength he would someday come to know. It took a great deal of effort for him to drag the corpse of his father onto the wheelbarrow, and greater effort still to push it into the woods. His mother followed close behind him with two shovels in hand. When they found the best spot possible, she handed the second shovel to her boy and together they started digging.

Theodosia couldn’t tell you how long they were out there for. Though both were exhausted, neither was willing to take any sort of break. They dug with the same fervour of the first miners in the mountains, pushing and pushing and pushing until the earth threatened to swallow them whole.

When the grave was finally fully dug, they unceremoniously dumped the body into it. No prayers were said for John Edward. No real tears were shed. They simply started pushing the dirt back into the ground and buried the man who didn’t deserve any further amount of care with regards to his death. When the last mound was patted down, Theodosia dropped to her knees and pressed her palms against the earth.

“Dougey, baby, I need your help.” She murmured, though she didn’t need to.

JD crouched beside her, placing his hand at the small of her back and letting his energy flow to her. Theodosia’s gifts reached out, drawing seeds to the freshly dug dirt. The grass rose up beneath her fingers, filling back in to match the rest around it. When she pulled away, it was as though the ground had not been disturbed at all.

“It’s done.” JD whispered.

“It’s done.” Theodosia echoed.

By the time they walked home, the blood in the dirt had washed to the bottom of the gathering puddles. The only evidence of the gruesome scene from before was the bloody hatchet and abandoned shotgun, which they collected and brought into the house. The shotgun was returned to its mount above the fireplace, the hatchet was washed and brought back outside, and the exhaustion was finally allowed by the Walkers to set in.

Before they could return to bed, Theodosia cracked open the pantry and retrieved what was once John Graves’ good whiskey. She poured two small glasses, sliding on across the table and keeping one for herself.

“You sure, Mama?” JD asked hesitantly.

Theodosia nodded. “You’re gonna want it, darlin’. It’ll help you go back to sleep. Besides, it ain’t like your daddy can call it his anymore.”

She raised her glass, clinking it against his. The two didn’t toast to anything in particular. They drank it down quickly before setting the glasses aside and letting themselves breathe.

“I’m proud of you, baby.” Theodosia whispered, letting her eyes fall shut.

She felt JD’s hand come to rest over one of hers. “I couldn’t let him hurt you. Not anymore.”

Theodosia smiled, in spite of everything that had gone down on that night. When she opened her eyes, JD was smiling back at her.

“Let’s go make sure your sisters are okay.”

“Sure thing, Mama.”

#long post #my writing #jd walker #theodosia walker #dory walker #dolly walker #john graves #my ocs #my edits #link in title is to a google doc for alternate reading #pay mind to the content warnings

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kaylaxwrites · 4 years ago

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In the Snow

ao3 // masterlist

Pairing: Jack Thompson x Reader Words: 1.2k Summary: Your first snow day with Jack Thompson. Request: “jack thompson x reader please !! any plotline honestly, I just need more jack content :))” (@marvel-jackt-loki-buck) A/N: I need to come up with better titles. set post-Agent Carter season 2 in which Jack survived being shot.

Warnings: none. just straight fluff babey.

You slowly stretched awake, the warmth of the body behind you threatening to lull you back to sleep. You peeked one eye open to see if there was enough of the morning left to cuddle with your husband, but your gaze slid past the alarm clock on the bedside table to your bedroom window. Which was dusted with snow. You gasped awake, bolting upright.

Snow!

Jack grunted and rolled over, not a morning person in the slightest. “Whatever it is, Y/N,” he groaned, “it’s too early.”

You repeatedly pushed on his shoulder to get him awake. “But, Jack, it’s snowing!”

He rolled over to face you, squinting up at you against the bright morning light. “What are you, five?” But the soft smile on his face told you he was only teasing.

“It hardly ever snows where I’m from, so forgive me for being excited,” you smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss against his lips. Before you could move too far away, he pulled you in closer, threading the fingers of one hand through the hair at the nape of your neck. His other hand brushed your side until landing at your hip. Leaning over him with one arm on either side of his head, you allowed him to pull you closer, knowing what he had up his sleeve. “I know what you’re doing,” you said between kisses.

“Mhm?” he mumbled, barely pulling away from your lips.

“You’re trying…” Kiss. “To get me…” Kiss. “To lay back down so I won’t…” Kiss. “Go out and…” Kiss. “Play in the snow like some—mm…” Kiss. “little kid.”

“You think so little of me?” He pulled you even closer until you were flush against him and forced to lean against your elbows instead. His hand on your hip started to creep scandalously lower and lower. “Is it working?” he whispered against the column of your throat.

You granted him a few more kisses before sliding out of his reach as he attempted to roll the two of you over. “Nope! I’ll go get your snow pants!” you called over your shoulder as you skipped out of the room. Your last glance at Jack was him running his fingers through his hair and flopping back onto the pillows. You giggled as you disappeared around the corner.

You weren’t cruel enough to not make Jack some coffee, so you set a pot to brew as you got dressed. You were mostly finished getting ready when Jack finally stumbled sleepily out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He sat down heavily at the table with his cup of coffee and began to drink it infuriatingly slow. Once you were dressed, you sat opposite him and slowly pushed his coat across the surface of the table.

Every inch you pushed it forward, he pushed it back.

Pushed forward and pushed back. Forward and back. Forward. Back. A silent tug of war.

Jack raised an eyebrow at you. “I will go back to bed,” he warned as you pushed his coat across the table once more.

You narrowed your eyes at him but reluctantly pulled the coat back close to your chest. You crossed your arms over the fabric and rested your head on your forearms, staring innocently up at Jack. You knew he would be true to his word if you pushed too far so you would sit there silently. You could go outside on your own, but it wouldn’t be any fun by yourself. So you would sit. And wait.

Eventually, he finished his cup of coffee and finally shrugged his coat on. You tried not to bounce with excitement as he laced his boots. The instant the final knot was finished, you pulled him by the arm out the door and into the snow.

You first roped Jack into helping you build a snowman, topping it off with an old hat and scarf you found in your closet. You begged and pleaded until Jack brought out his camera and snapped a few photographs of you posed with your first-ever snowman, eager to send a few pictures home to your parents. You put some finishing touches on the snowman as Jack went back inside to return the camera.

You didn’t realize he had stepped back outside until a snowball hit the side of your head. You gasped dramatically and slowly turned to find Jack grinning at you from the front stoop. You ducked behind a tree as he knelt to form another snowball, taking cover just in time for the snowball to explode against the side of the tree. You formed and threw a few snowballs of your own, but most of them went disappointingly wide. Jack’s aim was far superior, forcing you to remain sheltered behind the tree.

After a few rounds, you finally found the courage to step out into the open. You threw a snowball across the yard and jumped gleefully when it nailed Jack right in the side. But Jack cried out, clutching his ribcage as he hunched over in pain and—how could you be so stupid? His gunshot wound—though mostly healed—was still sore and caused him pain when he moved or pressed on it too much and you just drilled him right in the center of it. “Jack, oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you cried as you ran across the snow-covered grass to reach him. “Are you okay? Did I cause it to tear open again?” But Jack wasn’t listening.

You squealed when he grabbed you by the waist and swung you around. “Gotcha,” he said in your ear. Before you could even process what was happening, snow was being shoved down the collar of your winter coat and you screamed.

“Jack Thompson, that’s so not fair!”

“They say all’s fair in love and war and this, love, is an all-out war.”

Still not letting you escape his grasp, he began tickling your sides until you threw your hands up in surrender. “I give up, I give up!” Thankfully, he stopped tickling you and let his hands move to rest on your hips. Yours settled on his shoulders and the two of you swayed happily under the drifting snow. You gazed up at the snow, unable to get enough of watching the snowflakes fall from the sky and Jack couldn’t get enough of watching your amazement. Your face heated when you caught him staring at you. “C-Can we make snow angels now?” you asked.

“Sweetheart, you’re shivering,” he answered, pressing a warm hand against your cold cheek. It wasn’t until then that you realized your teeth were chattering.

“Just one?” you pleaded.

“The snow will be here tomorrow. Let’s get you inside before you freeze to death.”

You were cuddled against Jack on the couch he pulled close to the fireplace, a mug of hot chocolate warming your fingers and your favorite radio show playing softly from the corner of the room. “You know,” you said after several peaceful moments of gentle quiet, “I think you only agreed to go out in the snow with me so you could get me to cuddle with you by the fire.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?”

“You could have just asked.”

#Jack Thompson x Reader #Jack Thompson x You #Jack Thompson x Y/N #Jack Thompson/Reader #Agent Carter imagine #reader insert #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #gn!reader #f!reader #can be read as #m!reader #but some of the word choices might not really fit #but no pronouns or anything are used #so #kayla rambles

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inkribbon796 · 3 years ago

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What a Beautiful Wedding Ch. 6: The Wings of the Antarctic Empire

Summary: Tommy is desperate to convince Phil and Techno they’re in some kind of trap and he’d like to be taken seriously just once.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

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Channel 6

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Tommy found himself at the foot of the long, tall black stone staircase. Philza was looking down at him.

When he set his foot on the first step, Techno drew his sword and stepped in front of Phil. “I don’t think so.”

“Phil!” Tommy yelled up. “Yer[1] both in some kinda[2] illusion. Wake up.”

About five guards appeared from almost nowhere and aimed their arrows at him, Tommy recognized the pink of Niki’s hair among them. Techno took two steps down from the altar.

“Take ‘em ta the holdin’ room,”[3] Phil ordered, spreading his wings and he held the baby close to him as he flew off.

“Let’s go,” Techno ordered as he walked down the steps, Tommy found himself at the dangerous end of Techno’s sword. “Come on.”

Tommy held his hands up and turned, which resulted in Techno pushing Tommy forward.

“Don’t fuckin’[4] shove me!” Tommy shouted, but Techno and Niki lead them to the palace.

Tommy sat down in some uncomfortable chair as Techno and Niki stared at him. Ghostbur looked at Niki nervously.

“H-Hey,” Ghostbur smiled at Niki.

“Stay back,” Niki told him, bow and arrow pointed down, but not notched or ready to fire yet.

“The two of you are waiting until the old man gets back,” Techno told him.

“Techno, come on, man, you have ta[5] know this is Dream’s doin’[6],” Tommy groaned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you’re not careful you will get yourself shot,” Techno warned.

The heavy doors of the room were pushed open and Phil walked in. The lack of snow or distance gave Tommy a good look at the man. Little things about Philza were different. His eye color for one. The Phil that Tommy had always known had blue eyes but now he had more of blue-green color. He was maybe an inch or two taller. Not any taller than the other people in the room but it was noticeable enough to Tommy. His blond hair had a slightly dustier tint to it.

Phil paused when he looked at Tommy. “Stand down.”

Niki took her arrow away from her bow, “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had a visitor like this,” Phil told them. “You two are from the future aren’tcha[7]?”

“Uh, yeah?” Tommy said. “We’re in an illusion. It’s Dream, he’s done somethin’[8].”

Philza just started staring at Ghostbur as a look of realization dawned on him. “I . . . Wilbur?”

“My name is Ghostbur,” Ghostbur corrected nervously, ducking behind Tommy a bit.

Niki seemed to recoil and Techno began slowly coming back to himself, clutching his head as he began grunting in pain and his knees crashed to the ground.

“Techno!” Phil rushed over.

“They’re too loud,” Techno grunted.

Tommy began stomping over, “What’s that green bastard doin’ ta yeh?”[9]

Phil used a wing to knock Tommy away before Techno was able to stab Tommy with a sword, his eyes a blood red and a frenzied look in his eyes.

“Tech, Tech, follow my voice, yeh[10] don’t need ta[5] fight here,” Phil told Techno as the warrior thrashed his head back and forth.

Niki inched closer and passed Phil a vial, he placed it under Techno’s nose and he began calming down.

“Thanks,” Phil said and inched closer. “Techno, yeh[10] need me ta[5] clear the room?”

“No, I,” Techno paused, swallowing. “I’ve got it.”

“What did that fucker do ta[5] you?” Tommy demanded. “It’s bad enough he’s got us trapped in here.”

“Dream’s not powerful enough for that,” Techno had a slight chuckle to his voice as he stood up.

“We still need ta[5] get out,” Tommy reminded him. “Tubbo an’[11] Ranboo are still trapped.”

Philza sighed, rather dramatically before he held his hand up and magic covered his hand before there was what felt like an earthquake and then a crash of some kind. Tommy, Shroud, and Ghostbur’s outfits changed into something that matched Phil and Techno’s. Tommy realized he was wearing a circlet, perched on his head and when he went to take it off to look at it he saw that it was studded with green and blue stones, and etched with perfect craftsmanship.

Tommy immediately rushed to the nearest window and saw at the foot of the palace, right outside the ground, an inn. And Tubbo stumbled out of it, looking around wildly. He was in an outfit that almost matched Tommy’s, but without the circlet and he was wearing thick gloves.

Ranboo followed after him, he was wearing a long purple cloak. But behind him, Michael was peeking his head out from behind Ranboo’s cloak.

Tommy immediately raced out of the palace, shoulding past guards and palace servants as he tried to get to Tubbo.

“Tubbo!” Tommy raced over but Tubbo glared at him, his false eye’s iris glowed with its radioactive symbol right before he punched Tommy in the gut.

“The fuck!” Tommy shouted angrily.

“I was safe!” Tubbo shouted in a fury. “Me an’[11] Ranboo an’[11] Michael were safe. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t do anythin’[12],” Tommy shouted back in anger.

“T-Tubbo,” Ranboo warned, and tried to hide Michael in his cloak.

Tubbo stopped and looked past Tommy to see, to his horror, that Techno was watching them as Michael peeked his head around Ranboo’s cape, holding his larger hand in his much smaller one.

Techno’s eyes narrowed and Tubbo moved, scooping Michael up and glaring at Techno.

“Stay back!” Tubbo ordered Techno with an angry snarl. “Get away!”

Techno looked between the three of them, Michael just staring at Techno with huge, wide dark eyes, the gears clearly starting to turn in his head.

The warrior took a step forward and Ranboo took a step forward. “Techno! Techno! Wait please, don’t hurt them.”

“Are you with them?” Techno demanded.

“I, uh,” Ranboo clearly had a look of panic on his face. “Yeah, but look I just want you to know—”

“I don’t care what you spend your time with but did it have to be with the government?” Techno spat at Ranboo.

“He’s my husband, of course I spend time with him,” Ranboo told him.

“Ehhh!” Techno sputtered. “When did you get married?!”

“Almost a year ago?” Ranboo asked.

“A year? Why am I just learning now?” Techno told him. “I’m like your mentor, I should have been the first person you told.”

“You don’t like Tubbo,” Ranboo reminded.

“Because he and Quackity tried to kill me with axes, why would I like the guy?” Techno snapped.

“Well, yeah, that makes sense,” Ranboo admitted.

“Take the kid, we’ll go inside to Phil,” Techno jabbed his thumb at the palace. “And don’t worry, not killin’[13] the kid. He’s Ranboo’s too after all, right?”

“Yeah,” Ranboo answered.

“Good,” Techno told him but Tubbo still glared at Techno suspiciously. He followed at the back of the group, always braced to dump Michael into Tommy’s arms and pull out the first weapon he could get his hands on.

He only marginally calmed down when he saw Phil and Techno started complaining to Phil about Ranboo, and then balked when he found out Philza was already aware of the boy.

The little meet-up was interrupted when Jack Manifold raced in, in uniform after getting pulled in from the bubble Tubbo and Ranboo had been trapped in.

“Emperor! Enemy soldiers were spotted at the gate!” Jack yelled, the trio of teens and Niki stared at Phil in surprise.

“Where from?” Phil called out.

“From the Errin Empire,” Jack reported. “They were dressed like they were in the royal guard. We were able to apprehend them.”

“Shit,” Phil spat. “I want three guards in front ‘a[14] the nursery. Ranboo, take Michael an’[11] go with them. Niki, make sure no one gets in.”

“O-Okay,” Ranboo stammered nervously, grabbing Michael, and standing in front of Tommy expectantly. It took Tommy a bit to realize he was quietly asking Tommy to take Shroud. Tommy nodded and passed him over, Shroud became very upset to leave Tommy’s arms.

“On it!” Niki pushed Ranboo after the soldiers the instant he had both young boys in his arms.

“Tommy, Tubbo, behind me,” Philza ordered.

“Hold up, why are you the Emperor, yer[1] an anarchist?” Tubbo asked.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Techno interrupted as Puffy, Jack, and a couple soldiers dragged Chase and Jackie in.

“That’s new,” Techno hummed.

“We spotted an enemy force, we think it’s Lord Phantom,” Puffy announced.

Jackie turned to look out the window, seeing a wall of darkness in the sky, coming for them. “Storm’s comin’[15] in,” Jackie commented.

“That’s the Entity,” Phil corrected.

“What? Dark?” Chase perked up, starting to try and twist himself out of the rope tying his wrists behind his back.

Puffy kicked him down, so that he was face-down on the ground and placed a foot on his wrists. “Not so fast, buddy.”

“Puffy, let him up,” Phil ordered, “cut ‘em[16] both from their bonds.”

“You sure?” Puffy asked, taking her foot off.

“Yes,” Phil ruffled out his wings. “Battle stations! Average, can you talk Ent down?”

“I think so?” Chase said, rubbing at his wrists as he wisely kept his distance from Phil. “I just need ta[5] reach him, I didn’t forget so I imagine he’s still good too.”

The storm reached them and Phil started to hear the screams.

“How’d they sneak up that quickly?!” Jack yelled.

“Because none ‘a[14] this is real,” Phil told him.

The door was thrown open and Phantom was standing there in royal purple. “Phil, Techno, long time no see. It’s just like old times.”

“So yer[1] awake, then,” Phil sighed.

“Where’s Dark?” Chase demanded.

Phantom motioned with his head back, “Dealing with the town.”

“Then move outta[17] the fookin’[4] way,” Chase snarled.

“Aww, he’s having fun out there,” Phantom smiled.

“Here I’d hoped he wouldn’t work with yeh[10] again, yeh[10] always have been a shite[18] friend,” Phil glared at him.

“Ehh, we were both standing on the cliff, and he wanted to blow off some steam,” Phantom shrugged. “You know empaths, they get a little needy when they’re emotional so I just let him go off.”

“Fook[19] off,” Chase spat at him. “Jackie!”

Jackie grabbed Chase and they blitzed past Phantom, who rolled his eyes.

“Don’t blame me when he starts getting snippy,” Phantom scoffed, bracing as he smiled at Phil and Techno. “Let’s tango, boys.”

As Phantom braced for a fight, Chase raced out into the storm.

“Dark!” Chase screamed over the whirlwind of snow. Chase was racing towards the darkest part of the storm. “Dark!”

The darkness seemed to evaporate and Dark had some soldier by the throat, when he looked at Chase he paused. “Chase?”

“There yeh[10] are,” Chase felt relief, walking over, a rumbling passing through the bubble as it began weakening from outside attacks. “We’re goin’ home. Yer okay. I’m takin’ yeh home an’ yeh can relax.”[20]

Dark blinked in disorientation, he felt drained. Phantom must have snagged some of his aura when he wasn’t looking, or the anomaly was taking more from him than he realized. “Yeah, I think that’s for the best.”

Chase was almost within arms reach and Dark realized his body needed a nap because it was getting harder to focus on things.

“Hey, yeh[10] look tired,” Chase smiled as Jackie noticed something shooting towards them, but because of the coloration of the smoke he thought it a part of Dark’s aura.

At least until it hit Chase.

Something stabbed Chase right through the heart and the marksman knew he should be dead. But he felt something in his very soul snap. Dark flinched, his eyes widening in horror.

Chase knew should be dead, the human heart was a fragile organ, but as he was tossed to the side, he felt weak and was losing blood but his heart was too stubborn to stop beating and blood was still coming from somewhere. As his soul cracked in two before snapping back together, good as new.

“Hey, Dames,” Marc spat as he grabbed Dark and pulled him closer. “Let’s try this again.”

“How dare you? What did you do?” Dark spat at Marc as he looked at Chase in horror. He was only slightly calmed when he saw Chase starting to try and pick himself up, glaring murderously at Marc. But the Actor burst into smoke and ripped a portal open, dragging Dark with him.

When the portal snapped closed, it destroyed the bubble with it. Barely a second’s warning as it shattered and violently dropped all its inhabitants onto the floor.

The bubble the Actor disappeared into snagged the Sanders bubble and seemed to violently tear it in half as it pulled it inside.

Phil screamed in agony as his bad wing returned and reminded the avian demon that he’d been grounded for years now.

“Phil!” Techno rushed over to him in concern.

Chase looked around, becoming furious when he couldn’t see Dark. “Fooker! That fooker! I’m gonna kill him.”[21]

“Average stop movin’[22]!” Jackie yelled and raced over. “Henrik! Chase needs attention, now!”

“Let me go!” Chase snapped at Jackie who was looking at him like Chase had flesh hanging off his bones. “I’m fine.”

“Yeh[10] were stabbed in the fookin’[4] heart! Stop movin’[22]!” Jackie yelled and that made people stare at Chase and Henrik who was at a brisk walk was now suddenly racing over as fast as he could. Marvin followed suit.

“Average! Lay down now!” Henrik yelled, forcing the marksman to a halt.

While the chaos of trying to get medical care and everyone just tried to figure out what was going on, Techno took a look around as Phil seemed to regain his strength and stood up.

“You okay?” Techno looked around as Ranboo was starting to get frantic.

“Where’s Tubbo?” Ranboo asked, an acute sense of panic growing within him. He scooped Michael and Shroud into his arms.

“He was right next ta[5] me, did that fucker grab him?” Tommy yelled as he looked around, his eyes locking onto Quackity who was just staring at Ranboo. Or more importantly, at Michael and Shroud, who were both crying. The screams only made Tommy even more agitated.

“What do you mean he’s just gone!” Ranboo yeled.

“Okay, give ‘em[16] here,” Philza swept in and just scooped the two toddlers into his arms, his aura soothing them and they stopped crying.

Techno took out his axe and walked closer to the remaining bubble that hadn’t been consumed by the Actor’s. His other hand summoned something that looked like a fishing pole with a small hand-sized grappling hook on the end of it and reeled it back before aiming it at the bubble and dragging it closer to him.

“Hey, let’s think about this,” Quackity urged.

But Techno slammed his axe into the bubble the instant he could and it cracked before shattering. Antfrost, George, Skeppy, and Bad all dropped to the ground but Dream rolled into a kneeling position and looked around. He almost stabbed Techno but the warrior easily used his weapons to deflect the blow.

“Hey man, chill out for five seconds, okay?” Techno chuckled.

Dream got up and looked around. He helped pull George up to his feet.

“Thanks, Techno,” Dream told him.

“That clear the books?” Techno smiled.

“Fuck no,” Dream chuckled. “You did that on your own, I didn’t ask you to do anything.”

“Ehh, it was worth a shot,” Techno shrugged, a smile still on his face.

Skeppy looked up from where he’d been laying on the ground next to Bad and when he looked up at Ponk he surged up.

“Give it,” Skeppy took the tome from Ponk, and checked it over. His eyes began to glow blue as parts of his skin began to crystallize. Magic fluttered around him. “Thank you, Ponk.”

“I was doing my best,” Ponk told him, emphatically throwing their arms up. “Took you long enough.”

“I was a bit busy,” Skeppy shot back.

Chase, once Henrik deemed him impossibly still alive and despite the blood he wasn’t dying, he looked up at the final bubble. Illinois gave Eric a kiss before he walked over to Chase.

“Actor’s up there?” Illinois glared at it.

“Yeah,” Chase said. “Fooker’s[23] a demon so snappin’[24] his neck’s so isn’t a crime.”

“Not a punishable one, and he’d only come back to life in a week,” Illinois agreed.

“Hey, the two of you are not going alone,” Silver said, in the middle of orchestrating ways to get people home. Dream ordering most of the Server group back home. Silver and Jackie quickly agreed to go with Chase and Illinois.

Philza was staring at Shroud before smiling at him. “I’ll take these two back home.”

“Deal,” Ranboo said without thinking, racing over to Chase. “Is Bomble okay in there?”

“We don’t know, but we’ll get him back home, the Sides seem to be in there as well,” Silver told him.

“No, I’m coming with,” Ranboo insisted. “I can open up a portal right into the bubble.”

“Count me in too,” Tommy rushed over.

“Absolutely not,” Silver told him.

“Let me rephrase that,” Tommy told Silver in his usual loud volume. “I am goin’[25] in there. With or without yer[26] fuckin’[4] permission.”

Silver sighed in frustration. “You two don’t take chances, and if you see Bomble, you two need to bail immediately.”

“Deal,” Ranboo spoke over Tommy and his eyes turned purple as he opened up a portal right over the group and took them right into the bubble.

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

Accessibility Translations:

1. You’re

2. kind of

3. Take them to the holding room

4. fucking

5. to

6. doing

7. aren’t you

8. something

9. What’s that green bastard doing to you?

10. you

11. and

12. anything

13. killing

14. of

15. coming

16. them

17. out of

18. shit

19. Fuck

20. We’re going home. You’re okay. I’m taking you home and you can relax.

21. Fucker! That fucker! I’m going to kill him.

22. moving

23. Fucker’s

24. snapping

25. going

26. your

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