#Ch.11 Reunion

[crimescrimson]

The Evil Within & Scenery [2/?]: Krimson City - The City of Chaos

#Crimson's Gifs: The Evil Within #TEW #The Evil Within #TEW1 #TEW 1 #The Evil Within 1 #The Evil Within Chapter 1 #The Evil Within Ch.1 An Emergency Call #Ch.1 An Emergency Call #The Evil Within Chapter 1: An Emergency Call #An Emergency Call #Sebastian Castellanos #The Evil Within Chapter 11: Reunion #The Evil Within Chapter 11 #The Evil Within Ch.11 Reunion #Ch.11 Reunion #Chapter 11 Reunion #The Consequence #The Evil Within: The Consequence #TEW: The Consequence #Juli Kidman

[brabblesblog]

Ch 11: I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou only makest me dwell in safety.

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Astarion and Ban finally strike that balance in their relationship. But however long will this newfound happiness last?

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Astarion looked over at her at dinner, a smile pasted on his face in a feeble attempt to hide his inner turmoil. These past two tendays, Ban had taken to coming over during the day then leaving for the night. It was an extraordinary thing; he could feel her slowly warming up to him again. Their days had been spent with the same scheming they’d always done, with some modifications to their approach. The Ascendant had been making attempts to increase her public involvement, including her in the negotiations, making sure that she was heard and that the patriars and businessmen who dealt with them knew to pay her respect - if not quite to the same degree they afforded him.

In between these meetings had been passionate trysts, which had also improved; gone was the coldness that had permeated their bedroom for so long. She was there, with him in mind as well as body, and Astarion had almost forgotten how that felt, save for in the depths of his dreams and memories. Their first few times in the wilds had been contaminated by his own less-than-altruistic intentions… and then there’d been those desperate, painful nights after the rite and after the Absolute’s defeat. The only times that had felt anywhere close to these two tendays were those evenings in between, beneath the cloak of the Shadow-Cursed lands, when their relationship had held so much promise.

As a result Astarion found a spring in his step; allowing himself to enjoy moments as they came. He felt less and less need to keep his walls up, his desire to cement his progress at winning Ban back making it easier and easier. For the first time in his life things had begun sliding into place.

He could reach for her, and she’d be there - in meetings, in the streets, in the halls of their home, just as happy to be with him as he was with her. These days had felt like a dream, and he’d often mulled over telling her that it almost made everything else he’d suffered these past two centuries worth it. There was still a way to go yet; her trust in him wasn’t anywhere near absolute, but he thought they were on the right path.

But then there had been the nights.

Tossing and turning, unable to fall into trance. Hours of staring up at the ceiling, begging for rest to finally take him. Nightmares - of Cazador, of Ban’s cold gaze, of waking up that day after the reunion to find her gone.

He’d taken to sleeping on the floor again, carefully hiding the blanket and pillows away at dawn so she wouldn’t see them when she came over; he messed up the sheets and laid on the bed to make it seem like he’d slept there. The floor was, in some ways, a comfortable and familiar presence - reminiscent of those nights inside his tent, those nights when they were actually happy.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” The question slipped out of his mouth before he could rein it in. He quickly took a sip of his wine, hiding most of his face with the goblet.

Ban turned to him, an amused glint in her eyes. “Can’t get enough? I’m not surprised,” she drawled, in a sardonic approximation of his voice.

He rolled his eyes at her over the rim of his goblet, then downed the rest of the wine.

“And if I can’t? If I want you by my side forever - would that be so wrong?”

“No,” she said immediately, still smiling. She thought he was merely playing, and he was glad of it. She needn’t know how miserable these nights had been for him.

“Still. Only for tonight,” she added, not wanting to get his hopes up.

If this hurt him, he hid it exceedingly well, smiling at her in apparent delight.

She tried to smile back, but Astarion noticed something off. Ban’s smiles were a little different than before, he was well aware. The trials of their relationship had all but ensured that. But there was something more to this particular smile.

It didn't reach her eyes.

“There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” He scanned her face, eyes darting over her features, and try as she might to hide away, he could tell he was right.

“You’re not happy. Not really.” It wasn’t a question. He felt the urge to snap, to ask her exactly what more he could be doing for her, but he tamped it down. The feeling, however, brought up the rather unpleasant sensation of his heart being held hostage to her whims yet again.

“What’s wrong?” His tone was colder than he would like. He tried again. “Ban. Please.”

She averted her gaze, fixing her eyes on his chin. “I thought I missed him. I missed what we had,” she finally said, “And more and more often now, I can see him. He’s you. He’s always been you.” There was a pregnant pause as she pondered what she was actually trying to say.

“But then if you’re him… then he’s not really who I thought he was, was he? He hurt me too, because you hurt me.”

Ban was just now realizing she’d put her Astarion on a pedestal, her earlier memories of him being idealized by comparisons to when he’d been at his worst. But he had always been imperfect, at times callous, even cruel. She’d ignored that in her desire to return him to who he’d been.

Her words felt like they were strangling the life from him; his chest tightened and his first instinct was to hurt her back. But it only crossed his mind for an instant, and he shook his head to clear it.

“So.” He thought over her words. “You’re only here because I’m the closest thing to what you thought I was. You’re settling.” The realization wasn’t new; he’d always known. But to finally have it confirmed when he thought so much progress had been made felt like he was being ripped to pieces.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not settling. I’m just mourning.”

He bristled at that, but mostly kept it out of his voice. “Mourning what? Because I thought we established that I’m not two separate people, Ban.” His tone shifted a little at the end as he couldn’t quite keep the exasperation out of his voice. He waved a hand in frustration. “This is me. You’re grieving something that does not exist - has never existed.”

“I’m just mourning that we didn’t end up the way I thought we would. That you’re not really who I thought you were, even at the start. I’ve always been blinded by your charm,” she admitted, “I bought every lie you threw my way, and with every layer I uncovered, there were more.”

She had been sitting on this for a while, unsure how to bring it up without infuriating him. But she needed to say it before committing herself further.

“I accept you. All of you. Your light, your dark. I see you - I see kindness and goodness, but I also see selfishness. Ruthlessness. I can’t help but be sad about it at times. Is that fair?”

She watched as his expression changed from indignation to one that he rarely showed unrestrained, even with her - anguish.

“It’s fair,” he concurred. He reached out to take her hand, squeezing it.

“Ban.” He weighed the words he was about to say, then steeled his nerves. “I’m not… good. Never was. But I do try, at least when it comes to you.”

Because she deserved it. Because if she left him again, there would honestly be nothing else to live for. But that didn't mean it didn’t hurt - that the days since his ascension hadn’t killed him as much as they had her.

“Can I show you something, love?” he asked. He didn’t trust his voice to carry the weight of what he wanted to convey. He could feel her pain, comprehend it, and all he wanted was for her to see his.

He tentatively opened his mind to hers; when she allowed him in, he slowly poured his feelings into her - the indignation, the terror, the ache - the shame.

He let her see the overwhelming feeling of power, of being free for the first time, so intense that it had almost eclipsed everything else. How it all soured, burned away by the pain in the memories of her withdrawing from him and finally leaving him that flashed over their shared connection. Finally, there was that gaping, yawning chasm of his heart, a loneliness that had only recently started to abate and that threatened to overwhelm him every time he was parted from her, opening whenever she departed like a festering wound.

She gasped a little at the flood of emotions, then quickly severed the bond. Ban took a nervous drink from her goblet. She’d been so consumed by her own heartache that she had missed his.

“Astarion, I-”

He cut her off, shaking his head. The hand on hers squeezed tightly.

“Don’t say anything. I don’t deserve it.” The Ascendant gave himself a moment to calm. Were he a more selfless person, this would be where he would offer her a chance to leave. As it was, he was completely silent, eyes downcast, staring at his half-eaten dinner.

But even if he didn’t say anything, Ban knew. All she had to do was ask, and he would give it. He would give her anything.

“I’ll stay over tonight,” she repeated, not knowing what more to say.

Ban yawned, fluffing her pillow before settling down. She was exhausted, the day having been full of the most mundane meetings they’d had in a while. Astarion followed suit, lying on his back beside her, a gap between them.

She watched as he stared up at the ceiling and exhaled, closing his eyes. He was positioned in such a way that it made her think he was about to go into trance, but the way his bare chest rose and fell told her he was anything but close to repose. She let her hand rise, hovering over his chest for the briefest of moments, then lowered it to make contact. Her palm gently pressed against the center of his chest; she could feel his rapid breathing and his racing heart.

He opened his eyes at her touch, the tension easing somewhat as he felt her hand on him.

“Apologies,” he said, swallowing. His voice came out rough. “I’m not used to having someone around.” A poor excuse, considering they’d been sleeping in a shared space ever since he’d confessed his feelings in the Shadow-Cursed lands. At the shake of her head and her disbelieving gaze, he exhaled. Sometimes he wished she wasn’t so perceptive.

“Just tell me. There’s no one here.” Ban scooted closer, pressing against his body, slipping the hand on his chest down to his waist. Her head rested on his shoulder.

“No more walls, Astarion. Not with me.” She had an idea of what the problem was, but she needed it to be his choice to open up.

He bit his lip, briefly considering brushing her off, a reaction borne of habit. He pushed the idea away. “I don’t… rest very well,” he admitted, “Not since you left.” Her hand over his stomach felt nice, but it didn’t completely ease the tightness he felt all over his body.

“And so you’ve come to dread falling into trance.”

He nodded at her words, eyes finally meeting hers.

“What do you usually do to relieve stress?” she asked, her fingers tracing over the planes of his abdomen, moving a little lower to trace a hipbone.

“Before we started talking again, I slept with others, as you know,” he began carefully, “I never finished with them. I couldn’t. I would send them away and try to take care of myself. Now that you come see me daily,” he smiled, aiming for seductive but ending up more sweet than anything, “It’s… easier to get my needs met, but I still occasionally do touch myself to just-”

He waved a hand awkwardly, gesturing at himself. To not think. To just be.

“I can help,” Ban offered, her hand stilling on his hip, awaiting permission. Before he could say anything, she continued. “Just this, nothing more. You can come, and then you can rest.” Let me help you.

Astarion considered this for a moment. He wanted nothing more, and yet his mind resisted, resisted the idea that it would be all for him. But he looked to her and saw her eagerness to touch him, to help, and his reluctance faded in the face of it.

Swallowing, he nodded.

Ban smiled, and let her hand drift lower, very gently touching him. She found him soft, delicately wrapping her fingers around his length.

He took a deep breath, eyes locking onto her, a mix of arousal and apprehension evident in his gaze.

“Relax,” she urged, “Close your eyes, and just focus on how this feels.”

With that, the Ascendant, the most powerful vampire in the realms, let his eyes fall shut and surrendered himself to his beloved.

The feeling was delicious. He could feel her hand caressing him from base to tip, his cock rapidly hardening under her touch. He felt a bead of moisture form on the tip; she quickly swiped it with her thumb to spread it, sending shivers through him.

“You’re perfect,” she whispered, kissing her way down his chest. Her lips captured his nipple, suckling, and the sensation made him buck. A low whine escaped his lips at the praise, his cock throbbing in her grasp, his arousal only growing.

Ban took it slow, her strokes soft and almost frustratingly unhurried. Astarion tried to roll his hips, seeking more friction, but she touched his hip with her other hand, a gentle admonishment that had him stilling immediately.

The feeling of her mouth suckling at his nipple and of her hand wrapped around his cock were all that filled his mind. There was no worry about what terrors the night would bring, no worry about what tomorrow may hold. No fear that he’d wake to find her gone again. His cock pulsed almost painfully in Ban’s grasp, wanting, needing more.

“Please,” he whispered, keeping his eyes shut. He no longer found shame in begging when it came to her, knowing she would take care of him and give him what he needed. In response to his plea, Ban’s hand sped up, twisting in the way she knew he liked with every pass. Astarion parted his lips, panting quietly.

His legs spread further apart, thighs twitching and toes beginning to curl. His breathing was a loud, needy thing; his hand rose to cup the back of Ban’s head, gently nudging her off of his nipple and towards the center of his chest.

“I’m close,” he said softly. His eyes opened, fixing her with a gaze so intense she could almost physically feel it.

“Listen, please. To my heart.” She hadn’t done it in so long, laid her head against his center and the memory of when she had last done it without prompting sent a wave of pain through him.

“It’s yours, Ban. It- I need you,” he added.

The last time she had laid on him like that unasked was the night before they’d confronted Cazador. She had held him close the entire time, and had fallen asleep to the slow thrum of his then-undead heart as they’d rested in their shared bed at the Elfsong.

“Whatever happens tomorrow,” she said, nuzzling into his chest. “I’ve got you.”

He asked her what she thought, what her ideas were regarding the rite. But she was cagey and rather noncommittal.

“All I ever want is your happiness, Astarion. Whatever shape or form it might take.” She was idly drawing circles on his chest with her index finger, her head rising and falling with his breaths.

“You said we shouldn’t condemn my poor brothers and sisters,” he countered. It irked him to hear her say it, but he’d brought it up in the spirit of honesty.

“Because that ought to be what I want to say.”

“Then what do you really want to say?”

“As long as you’re happy, I couldn’t care less.”

Words she’d ultimately regretted, true, but she’d meant them without reservations at the time.

She had always put him first. Above all - above the gods, above her own admittedly limited morality. Above herself.

Everything had fallen apart after that.

Astarion’s request brought a small smile to her lips. “I’d be more than happy to.” She settled her ear over his sternum, and the speed of his rapidly-beating heart took her by surprise.

The heart that beat under her ear now was the very same heart, but its rhythm was entirely different. It galloped now, as a living heart would. It didn’t faze her - in fact, it sent a small shiver of lust through her, realizing just how much he was enjoying this. Enjoying her. She could feel the vein in his cock pulsing with every heartbeat; she positioned her thumb to feel it better. She increased the pace, his cock hot and throbbing, silky skin pleasant in her hand.

Astarion had fallen mostly silent, small whimpers and gasps the only noises emanating from him. He just existed, just felt. His toes curled tighter, and he shook his head from side to side, biting his lip as he felt his orgasm approach.

“Ban-” It was all the warning he could give before he erupted, his cock throbbing with each spurt of hot, glistening come. His mouth opened in a wordless snarl of pleasure, his back arching. He spilled all over his abdomen and her hand, shuddering weakly, his eyes still shut.

Ban stroked him through his climax, then stilled, her hand remaining wrapped around him as he came down from his high. Her head, pressed against his chest the entire time by his hand, stayed over his heart, hearing it race ever faster as he orgasmed, then slowly settle as he recovered.

He opened his eyes to see her peeking up at his face, and he smiled, breathless. He’d had so many moments with her, but it was almost as if he was seeing her for the first time.

“I love you,” he murmured, and he meant it with every fiber of his being. He had refrained from saying it ever since they had begun trying to repair their relationship, knowing that those words had been cheapened when he’d first ascended.

He’d used them to manipulate her, and he had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t use them again until he truly meant it.

Ban smiled shyly, letting go of his softening cock. She shifted, pressing a gentle kiss over his chest. She didn’t answer him, unsure if she was ready for him to hear that yet. But in her mind she thought it back. I love you too.

She’d never stopped loving him. She’d whispered it to him when she’d last slept over. She thought it to herself whenever they parted for the day.

Instead of saying anything, she sat up and cupped his cheek. He leaned heavily into the touch, his eyes beginning to droop, as if he wanted nothing more than to close them and rest.

“Let me clean you up, and then we can sleep.”

Ban left the bed to grab a fresh towel and wet it in the bathroom, then came back to clean him off. By the time she’d finished he was already in trance, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face.

She curled up next to him, took one last look at his peaceful expression, and closed her own eyes.

The next thing Ban heard was a loud, panicked shout.

“Let me go! No!”

It was his voice. Ban opened her eyes, and realized Astarion was thrashing in the bed, attempting to protect himself from something.

She’d seen him have nightmares before, but this one seemed particularly bad. She reached out, trying to grasp his shoulders. “Astarion? It’s okay. You’re okay.” As she moved closer, however, his clawed hands struck out desperately, scratching her face hard enough to draw blood.

“I said let me go!”

The smell of her blood hit his nose, and his eyes flew open. He’d recognize that bouquet anywhere, and it had snapped him out of his nightmare.

It took him a moment. He blinked, staring at her bloodied face, even as the cuts began to heal. His eyes widened as the realization set in. He had hurt her yet again, even as he had been trying so hard to be better. He had failed.

“Ban, I… I had a nightmare… and I didn’t…”

His voice trailed off, panic settling in. His hands cupped her face, trembling fingers tracing over the now-sealed cuts.

Gods, please. Don’t leave me. Not again.

She didn’t hesitate, covering his hands with her own. “It’s alright, Astarion. I know.” As if reading his mind, she placed a kiss over his forehead and murmured “I’m not leaving you,” again and again, until she could feel the tension melt from his body.

A small gasp broke the silence and he hugged her tightly, holding her close to his body, terrified that if he let go she would disappear.

“Swear it,” he said, and there was a hint of the Ascendant’s aggression there. But Ban knew it to be borne out of fear, knew he needed reassurance more than anything.

“I swear.” She contemplated her words for a moment, and then finally said what she’d been keeping to herself for so long.

“I love you, Astarion. I swear I’m staying.”

He met her gaze, drinking in her promise, drinking in her love. That ravenous hole in his heart felt full, for once, and he released the breath he’d been holding. He finally started to calm, and his lips found hers, capturing them in a kiss that didn’t indicate a need for sex, but was rather a gesture of love.

The kiss ended and he pulled his face away with a shy smile. “Thank you,” he managed, arms still holding her close. That was all he intended to say, at first.

But his mind raced ahead of him, and his next words spilled out before he could really think about them.

“Then come home, Ban.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and he averted his gaze, eyes wide and almost tearful. He was awaiting her rejection, his body tensing in anticipation of the blow.

Instead she brought a hand to his chin, turning it so he had to face her.

“Alright,” she said, nodding. “I’ll move back.”

They held each other, and fell into the warm embrace of rest in each other’s arms. There were so many ways this could have fallen apart, and yet here they were - broken souls finding a small semblance of peace in each other. For once there were no games, no manipulation. The masks were gone, and it was just them.

For however long this peace lasted, they were content.

#astarion #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion fic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x mc #ascended astarion x f!tav #astarion bg3 #ascended astarion x tav #astarion ascended #ascendant astarion #vampire ascendant #astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph,

I am in the mood for some really long fics. Preferably not AU as I find those hard to get into. Although, like always, I am open to your all your suggestions.

Loves Seven.

Hi Lovely!!

Ahhh, I've a TONNE of long fics, and a lot of them AREN'T AUs! I'm gonna use your ask as an excuse to post a new list, and please check out the other pages linked below! I label if a fic is an AU or not, so just skip over those if you're not up for them! Enjoy!

NOVEL LENGTH FICS: 50 to 100K Pt 4

See also:

Novella Length Fics: 20 to 25K (Oct 2020)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K (Aug. 2019)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K Pt 2 (July 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 3 (Jul 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 3 [MFL’s] (Dec 2020)

Long Domestic Johnlock (50K+ w.) (March 2023)

Smut-Free Fics Over 50K (Aug 2019)

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017)

Long S3/Post-S3 Fics (20K+ w.) [Apr 2020]

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 4: 50K+ Words Pt. 1

Anxious / Worried Sherlock Pt 2 (Over 20K w.)

Long Pining Fics (50K+) [March 2023]

G,T, & M-Rated Johnlock for Newcomers Pt. 3 (20K+)

Genius is a Star Whose Light (is Soon to Sink in Endless Night) by LoloLolly (M, 51,812 w., 11 Ch. || Canon Compliant Through TFP/S4 Is Canon, Aftermath of Serbia, Alternating POV,  Established / New Relationship, Parentlock with Rosie, Explicit Torture, Mentions of Sherlock’s PTSD, Mentions of Human Trafficking, References to Child Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping, Captivity, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Case Fic, BAMF / Soldier John, Sherlock Whump, Mycroft and John Work Together, Marriage Proposal, Autistic Sherlock, Lestrade Finds Out, Polyglot Sherlock) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft. Part 2 of the Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) series

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #long fics #my fic recs #50 to 100K

[lazybutsmexy]

Bird hunting

Ghost x fem!reader x Soap

Chapter 11: Canary

Ch. 10 < Series Masterlist > Ch. 12

Warning: character death, graphic description of injuries, cursing.

Summary: A reunion and an apology.

Do not read this work if you're ander 18. This work contains mature and triggering themes.

Word count: 2300~

The sound of the running water has always been comforting to Canary. It never failed to lull her into a sense of relaxation. Granted, the low adrenaline and the blood loss were also aiding her weakened state. At any other point, she would’ve felt anxious, but there was nothing she could really do at this point. She had already tried to get up, and barely managed to make herself dizzier. Her body kept shivering due to the cold, and she guessed she was about to break into a fever anytime now. 

However, she knew now that Ghost was close, and Soap was likely with him. They must have found out where she was, and it would be only a matter of time until they realized she was in the forest. She knew they wouldn’t leave without her. No one fights alone. No one is left behind. She only needed to keep herself awake and press down on her wound until they found her.

She reminisced of a childhood with her grandparents, cooling off during the summer by jumping in the pond, and weekend trips to the river to go fishing. One time, her grandmother had taken her hiking in the mountains in search of blueberries, and they ran into a stream - just like this one. But as they looked towards the other shore, they saw a fox mom and two kits. The mom was drinking water from the stream and the kits were bouncing around, squeaking like fluffy, jumpy toys. 

There was a rustle of leaves coming from the opposite shore, and Canary snapped back into the present. She combed the shore with her eyes, hoping to see the familiar skull mask or a mohawk, but instead she saw a figure getting closer to the shore, a bit wobbly and heaving for air. 

When Alan finally made it into the clear, her blood froze in her veins. How was he even alive? She was almost certain she had stabbed him in the chest, but in her enraged and adrenaline-fueled frenzy, she may have missed his heart just so. She cursed herself for not further checking if he was truly dead before running from the cabin, though she had to concede that she was not in the same mental state as she usually was in the battlefield. It was not the time to try and analyze her actions, though. 

She silently watched him from behind the bushes, as he drawed his eyes carefully along the shore, until he stopped right at the place she had crossed. She followed his gaze and cursed, her heart drumming wildly against her ribcage - he found her footprints in the mud. 

Alan approached the trace slowly, his left arm hung limp by his side, covered in blood from the shoulder, and in his right hand he held the gun. He stopped and studied the mud, following with his gaze an imaginary trace to the other side of the stream. Canary held her breath as she saw his eyes light up and he found the continuation of the footprints on her side of the shore. 

Although she wasn’t wearing any camo, her running clothes were dark enough to be hidden in the shadows of the forest. If she stayed still, he might look past her. It was no more than wishful thinking though, as Alan raised his right arm, and shakily aimed in her general direction. His crazed, bloodshot eyes were wide open, and his face vaguely resembled one of those japanese demon masks that Oni had given her as a gift and now hung on her living room wall, only much paler from his own blood loss. 

She waited for him to shoot at any random direction - maybe even her head -, but instead he stepped into the stream. His steps were slow, almost robotic, and Canary had to remind herself to breathe as every step brought him closer to her. Suddenly, a distant call reached her ears:

“Canary!”

Soap’s voice traveled through the forest and into her ears, washing over her entire body like a cool shower on a hot summer day. Canary opened her mouth to call back, but shut it quickly and bit her lip - if she made the littlest noise, Alan would find her, and he was already here unlike Soap. She began brainstorming for a way to get their attention, her thoughts growing frenzy and more muddled the further Alan got into the water. As he was about to reach the middle of the current, he stopped, a demonic smirk spreading through his lips like poison ivy. 

“There you are,” he sneered, and fired the gun.  

~~~~~~~

“...So, why do they call you Canary?” Gaz inquired as the post-mission lull fell upon the team as they waited in a safehouse for extraction. 

Canary blinked and let a small, playful grin stretch her lips. “Well…”

~~~~~~

As the bullet whistled past her, narrowly missing her shoulder, she braced herself closer to the large tree beside her to use it as a shield. 

There was no point in hiding now, she thought with a grimace, they must’ve heard the gunshot. 

She gulped down what little saliva she could muster and thought of how to let them know she was still there, waiting for them. She remembered how her voice failed her when she tried to call for Ghost earlier, and decided that it wouldn’t be much different now. 

Instead, she wet her lips and took a deep breath, filling her lungs until it hurt to do so and her sight grew hazy from the pain, and let it out in a clear, high-pitched whistle.

~~~~~~

“Canary!” Soap called again, his eyes searching into the forage for any sign of movement. Both him and Ghost knew that, if Canary was being chased by the other man, she probably wouldn’t give away her position, but it would assure her that they were there, about to find her. He looked to his three, finding Ghost sweeping the greenery through the scope. Gaz was on his nine, while Price had chosen to search through the road just in case. 

Just as he opened his mouth to call for Canary again, they heard the gunshot. No words needed to be exchanged, as they rushed in its direction. Cold sweat ran down Soap’s back as the thin branches hit his face in his race towards the gunshot. 

They were so close, so close. It couldn’t, it wouldn’t end like this when they were this close to Canary. 

Abruptly, as bright as the first star in the evening skies, a clear whistle rang through the forest, and both Soap and Ghost knew exactly who it belonged to. Their hearts filled with euphoria as they cleared the distance to the stream, and they saw from the distance a man standing in the middle of the water, his gun pointed to the other side as he shot it once more. 

~~~~~~

The second bullet ricocheted on the tree trunk, and Alan resumed his march across the stream. But as he took another step, a searing pain exploded in the back of his leg, making it buckle into the freezing water. Looking at the back of his leg for the origin of the pain, he saw the hilt of a knife sticking out. And as he turned his face to see where it came from, a large shadow with the face of the grim reaper engulfed him

Alan barely had time to gasp in surprise when a gloved hand clutched his throat and dunk him in the icy water. He struggled to keep the air in his lungs as the shock from the cold took hold of his body, but the grip on his throat was so strong that no air would be let in or out anyway. 

In a desperate attempt to shrug off the massive and increasing weight on his windpipe, Alan raised his gun, but managed nothing as another knife was stabbed between his ribs. He realized in terror that the air was escaping him, and felt the icy water invade his lung from the open wound. 

As his mouth fell open in a gargled scream, the darkness invaded his sight from the corners, the face of the grim reaper being the last thing he would ever see. 

~~~~~~

Ghost retrieved his knife from the ribs of the man beneath him, and watched as life faded from his terrified eyes. He secretly wished he had had more time to make the bastard pay for what they did to Canary, but this was just as good. 

He looked up from the corpse and saw that Soap had finished crossing the stream and was now approaching Canary, and he jumped to his feet to follow him. 

Canary stared at Soap’s figure with half-lidded eyes, her breathing growing heavier by the second. The whistle she made earlier had taken all but a portion of the oxygen in her lungs, and she was having a hard time getting it back. Still, a relieved smile lightened up her features, and she raised a shaky hand to meet him.

 “J-Johnny,” she panted the moment her fingers met his, “s-sorry about t-the hoodie,” she wanted to say more but was interrupted by soft lips pressing against hers in an urgent, desperate kiss. 

Although it was short-lived, it didn’t fail to leave her dazed and wanting more, with warmth spreading to her cheeks as their eyes met. 

“Fuck, Tweetie, y’know there are plenty of those for you to steal whenever,” he couldn’t help but grin as his hands engulfed her cheeks, before his eyes roamed down her body to check her injuries, and his features fell into a frown. “Alright, bonnie, let me check these,” his hand inched closer to her bandages, and she whimpered in pain at the touch, her head falling back limply against the tree.

From a distance, they could hear Gaz calling into his radio, and the sloshing water as Ghost ran towards them. 

“I-... I lost a lot of blood,” she groaned, and her face paled again much to Soap’s desperation. He pulled away the bandages just as Ghost joined them, and kept himself from gasping at the state of her wound. Simon just made it to their side and Canary’s head lolled to the side to watch him, sending him a sleepy smile. 

“I knew you’d come,” she whispered as he got closer. His eyes crinkled in a smile as he held her cold hand, pressing a kiss on it through the fabric of the balaclava. 

“Of course I would,” he exhaled, trying not to make the knot in his throat choke him up, “I’ve waited two bloody months to see you again.” Canary smiled through her foggy eyes as a stray tear rolled down her cheek. 

Simon wiped it away with his thumb and looked at what Johnny was inspecting. His eyes fell on her wound and inwardly panicked - it was much worse than she’d ever let on. Judging by the state of the bandages and the tremor in her limbs, she were close to being in shock - how she had managed to get this far was beyond them. 

The radio crackled and they heard Price’s voice, “Evac is coming, stabilize her for the trip.” Simon’s eyes met Johnny’s and he instantly moved to retrieve clean bandages from his kit as Johnny searched for a stim shot. It would only keep her going for so long, perhaps just enough for her to be loaded onto the heli and into the hands of more capable field doctors. 

Canary felt the sharp sting of the stim shot in her leg, and was moved back and forth as her wound was cleaned and the bandages changed. Her tongue felt more numb than before, though, and dark spots began clouding her vision. She knew it would be only a matter of time until she finally fainted. 

“I-... I’m sorry,” she whimpered, barely loud enough for the other two to hear. She wasn’t quite sure why she wanted to apologize. Maybe for letting herself be taken like this, when she should’ve been stronger, or maybe for letting herself get this hurt. Perhaps for wanting to spend her medical leave off-base, or for going on that run.

Or maybe, it was for all that together, and more things she couldn’t quite remember at the moment.

She knew Johnny was saying something to her, but she couldn’t quite hear him. The ringing in her ears was too loud. The sounds around her felt like mud. 

Her eyes were heavy, just like her chest - it was getting hard to even breathe. A nap sounded nice. 

She made a sound where she felt the cold ground on her back - was it pain or relief? She wanted to sleep. 

A hand was slapping her cheek. Just a nap, a short one. 

The smell of her grandma’s cookies. The vintage sound of 80’s rock albums playing on her grandpa’s record player. Dancing in their living room. She should go and visit their graves before her next mission. She knew her parents didn’t, and would probably refuse to visit hers, too. 

The stuttering sound of a helicopter’s blades. 

Grandma and Grandpa would visit her grave. Simon and Johnny would, too. They would’ve all gotten along, if they had ever met. Grandpa was born in Manchester, like Simon. Grandma knew how to curse like a Scot because of her own parents. A big, noisy family dinner. 

It was pretty dark. Just a short nap. The ringing in her ears was constant now, but slowly fading away. 

“Canary, wake up!” Simon sounded scared. Why? She was fine. 

Just… Just a nap. 

“[Name]! Please!”

A/N: ... I-...

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[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 9

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

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

Rating: Mature - but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 12.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Family being family, brief mention of previous physical abuse/ptsd, playful and sexy flirting Summary: Your family arrives in Louisville and inevitable shenanigans ensue. Notes: Hardcore shout out to my godparents and their kids (my surrogate siblings that I love and adore) for being the inspiration for Sugar’s family. One day I’ll write about the time my godmother and I got day drunk and went traipsing through historical houses for shits and giggles. 

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

The morning is busy, despite the laziness of waking up in each other’s arms again, and includes a pit stop at Ginger’s lab to have temporary versions of your Curiouser and Curiouser tattoo applied for your family’s benefit and check in with the Statesman doctor. Standard procedure, apparently, for soulmates who have had their ink removed to accommodate their agent spouses. Your family will see the proof that you are soulmates, and Jack can wash away the evidence to go back to work after they leave. In jeans and t-shirts, you and Jack amble down to the Statesman airstrip with the Bronco and your little car to bring everyone back to his house for a few days. His three guest rooms edge out your one, so you had brought over a bag of clothes and personal items this morning to stash in his room. His place seemed enormous after leaving your little cabin, but it’s cozy in a very western cowboy kind of way. When the jet lands, the Silver Pony is right behind it. Jack’s beloved fighter will go back to the hangar, but your focus is entirely on the jet as your family disembarks. The last time you saw most of them was your cousin’s wedding, and that was months ago, so you’re itching to jump forward on the tarmac and hug your sister.

Jack stays back, not because he’s wary of meeting your family, but this is your reunion. You’re aware you can tell them things up to a certain point and he knows that you don’t want your family to know the true extent of your ordeal, but family is going to smother you. It’s their way. “Go on, sugar.” He urges you, grinning when they all shout in unison when they see you.

These are hugging people, every single one of them, and it takes better than ten minutes for the fussing and first round of hugs to die down, but you end up with your niece in your arms and grateful tears in your eyes by the end of it. Your mother, for all her lifetime of journalism, is at least keeping the questions to a minimum for now. Mostly just repetitions of “But you’re okay now?” whenever you remind her that you can’t talk about an ongoing investigation - the ‘easy out’ line that Jack had taught you.

It’s only when your personal hoard finally migrated towards the cars does Jack step forward. “Hey folks, I’m Jack.” He’s going to leave it up to you to introduce him if you want, and he’s not sure if you’ve said anything about him before.

“Ohhh, you’re Jack.” Your little sister smirks, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Kind of expected Tex to be here with you, honey. Not going to lie.” Your father, meddlesome king that he is, is occupied with caring for your nephew otherwise you’d probably smack his shoulder much harder than strictly necessary.

“No, Dad.” You focus on loading their suitcases into your trunk so you don’t murder him with your glare. “Actually, I’m really excited for all of you to meet Jack, but you have to promise not to freak out.” Your eyes glide to your right. “Mom? Promise.”

“I would never act inappropriately with your friends, sweetie,” she promises, fully ignoring the many times she has done so before today.

“Liar, but okay.” An affectionate roll of your eyes is well earned, but you stop loading bags for a second to do introductions properly. “Jack, this is my brother Matt, my sister Eliza, her husband Ed, their kids are Nate and Eleanor. And my parents, Jeff and Sherry.” Taking a deep breath, you can’t help the broad, nearly giddy smile that spreads across your face. “Guys…Jack is my soulmate.”

He can’t say that he was expecting the red carpet, but it’s almost funny when your dad’s eyes narrow instantly. “He’s older than you.” Are the first words out of the man’s mouth and honestly, he doesn’t blame him.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” You roll your eyes out of frustration that that is the first reaction from your family on something so important. “Yes, Jack is older than me. And you’re older than Mom. It happens all the time.” Granted their difference is a year not a decade, but it really doesn’t matter to you.

“Sorry.” Your dad shakes his head and shuffles forward, holding out his hand to Jack. “I was expecting her to announce that Tex was her soulmate and they had just kept it under wraps at the wedding to not steal the spotlight.” That stings, especially because he was supposed to go to that wedding, but he shakes the man’s hand firmly. “Sorry about that. But I assure you that your daughter is in good hands.”

“Actually, Tex only came with me as a stand-in. He’s a good friend.” You can see Jack flinch slightly and you don’t like it, feeling the way your heart clenches at any sign of discomfort from him. “Jack got caught up with work.” That clench becomes a swell, and your chest puffs up a little with pride. You can’t tell them what Jack really does for work, but his other title is just as impressive. “He’s the CEO of Statesman, so he stays busy.”

That seems to resonate with the family, making Jack the recipient of several reappraising looks. “So that’s why we get flown down on the corporate jet?” Your mom asks and Jack shakes his head.

“No ma’am. That’ll be Champ's decision. I might be CEO, but I answer to him.” He jokes before he takes your hand. “At Statesman, we take the welfare of our soulmates and their families very seriously. We like to think of ourselves as our own little family and that now includes you folks.”

“You’ll see how seriously they take the ‘family’ thing when you see where we all live,” you tell them honestly, shifting your niece carefully in the arm that wasn’t loading suitcases. “We have all the stuff for grilled cheeses and the carrot soup that the kids love back at Jack’s house.”

“Jack’s house?” Your mother cocks her head at your wording. “You aren’t living together already?” She knows how you feel about soulmates so it is surprising to her.

“No, but he has more guest rooms and he offered. This way we can all stay in one place together and no one has a hotel bill.”

“Purely practical. Got it.” Teases your sister, who is the only one who has heard the entire saga of back-and-forth with Jack.

“If you all want to get loaded up.” Jack offers. “We’ll get you back to the house and the makeshift family reunion can start in a jiffy.”

Getting everyone back to the house takes a little finagling but it works, and your brother rides with your parents and Jack in the Bronco to make sure they behave. The kids are fussy when you get to the house but your sister sets them up to nap with the monitor on once everyone’s bags are upstairs and - as is the custom with your family - everyone congregates in the kitchen without discussion. In fact, the biggest discussion right now is what to do with the kids while everyone is here. Touristy things like Churchill Downs and the Kentucky Derby Museum, the Louisville Zoo, and the amusement park Kentucky Kingdom are all on the list, according to your mother. “We’ll drive out to Dollywood sometime without the kids,” she tells you, glancing at your father with a grin. He’s a legendary Dolly Parton fan but the little ones would never survive the drive without totally melting down.

“If that’s something you want to do….” Jack hums. “We can always drop the kids into the Statesman day care. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. Or I can stay back and watch them.”

“You guys can always add a few days to your vacation,” you offer, already bustling around the kitchen to get everyone something to drink before you start making lunch. “The jet is already reserved to take everybody else home on Saturday morning, instead of going home you can hop a commercial flight to Tennessee and check out Dollywood. If dad likes it, we’ll make it the next family vacation?”

Jack listens to the conversation, trying to get a feel for your family and he doesn’t miss the way that they are looking at him, judging him. It’s been a long time since he’s had to worry about what people think of him.

The rolls you all fill get to be obvious after a while - your excitable mother and nosy father, generally troublemaking sister and her easy-going husband, punctuated by your brother who likes to poke and make trouble sometimes or play the peacemaker at others, depending on when the mood strikes him. At the moment he is being good, just watching your brand-new soulmate to see how he deals with your parents. Right now it's a roundabout while your father pretends he isn't dying to go to Dollywood under literally any circumstances and everyone else provides him with various ways to make it happen, until he finally grins at all of you and takes a sip of his sweet tea. "Your mom and I will go for a few days this weekend," he agrees, looking around at the group of his three kids with two of their soulmates and feeling a little like the king of the castle. "I'm sure we'll love it, and we can all go back again together." He raises an eyebrow at you. "You're still gonna be able to get away for family vacation this year, right kiddo?"

"As long as you don't schedule it for the week my restaurant opens, of course I will." It's not something they would ever do, but you can't help getting excited about the opening with it being so close.

Jack leans against the counter. “It’s gonna be a big affair and we’ll have the jet standing by again to bring everyone down.” He tells them, wanting them to know that it’s going to be taken care of. “You’re doing it that Saturday or Sunday, sugar?” He asks, looking back at you.

"It's Saturday." There's no reason to hide that you love the little pet name, and you practically beam at him. "Sunday will be special because it's the first day we're doing brunch." The Sunday brunch menu was Diana's brain child originally, when you made eggs benedict for the two of you one day in the kitchen. "Just three more weeks." Your brother hovers a little, still feeling guilty for losing track of you when you came to visit him, as if the Rollins brothers wouldn't have just grabbed him, too.

Jack nods. “Some of the best damn food to be had will be available at the Statesman tea room.” He sends you a small wink. “And the sweetest desserts.”

"We heard you fell for the coconut cake just like her granddad did." Your mother grins. "There's no way around it. That cake is the best thing in the world."

“The coconut cake is to die for.” Jack nods in complete agreement, already anticipating when you make that confection again. “But her crawfish salad was what threw in the towel for me.”

“I don’t think you’ve made that for us, sweetie.” Your father eyes you with a pout as you move around the kitchen.

“You don’t like shellfish,” you remind him with a laugh. “It’s the recipe I used to make shrimp salad tea sandwiches for Eliza’s bridal shower with a few little tweaks.”

“Best damn sandwich I’ve ever put in my mouth.” Jack boasts. “This tea room of hers is going to be a success.”

“I’m gonna have to put a padlock on the fridge to keep you from sneaking into the kitchen.” Teasing him has truly turned to being second nature, and it’s gone further than it had during that first tentative week of knowing each other. There’s so much affection there that it warms you through time after time, making you duck your head when you smile at him. “Put up a picture of you in back for my staff to warn them.”

“Wanted: Sandwich Thief.” Jack snorts, shooting you devilish grin, “considered armed and dangerous but can be bribed with a cupcake.”

"You'll fit right in, in this family." From the other side of the table, your brother-in-law laughs. "Food is their love language."

“Be honest, I think it just might be her cookin’.” He jokes, sending you a small wink. “Showed her a pizza place, she didn’t like it at all.” He chuckles, watching your face morph from shock to outrage.

"You wouldn't dare keep Tony's from me." Your jaw is practically on the ground, eyebrows pinched and a pout painting the rest of your features as you freeze in the middle of peeling a carrot. "Not after truffle pizza. I dreamed about that pizza."

His chuckle turns slightly mean, so sinister – though everyone can tell he’s joking. A sound similar to the evil antagonists in every spy movie they put out, and he’s watched them all for the irony. “Then my evil plan worked.”

"So mean, threatening to keep the good pizza away." There's no heat in the way you huff at him, and if you had looked over at the table in that moment you would have seen your brother and sister exchanging amused, knowing expressions.

“Keep it all for myself.” He adds, enjoying the pouty look you’re giving him. “Do you want me to help? Get out the bowls or something?” You’ve already inspected his kitchen and grumbled about needing to bring some of your stuff over if you’re cooking here, but he just assumed that was what every chef did.

"Can I trust you with the grilled cheese?" It's barely a real question, since the man has been feeding himself for decades, but you like the small moments of domesticity that you've been sharing this morning.

“I don’t burn ‘em, if that’s what you’re askin’.” Jack moves over towards you and his hand finds your waist as he moves to your other side. “How do you make your grilled cheese?” He has a feeling it’s a little more involved than two slices of bread, a slice of American cheese and some butter.

“No reason to get complicated today.” Everybody at the table is chatting away merrily about something that happened back home, and you take the second to lean into Jack’s touch a little. “When it’s me, I do apple and bacon and a Muenster cheese. But classic American is a great sandwich to do in bulk.” He’s warm and feels safe beside you, a feeling you’re learning to relish. “This isn’t too crazy for you, is it?” You whisper, worried that on day two of your precarious relationship, he might change his mind after remembering what dealing with another person’s family can be like.

“It’s….a lot.” Jack admits quietly, unused to the large family feeling that had descended on his house. But it’s not an unwelcome one. “But it’s okay, sugar. I grew up in boisterous bunkhouses on the ranch when I was old enough to be there. Which was as long as I could sit on a horse.”

“If it gets to be too much just say the word and I’ll ferry them out to whatever tourist spot they want to see. Or I’ll bring them back to my place. Whatever you need, okay? This is…it’s new.” You sigh gently, leaning into him a little more. “I don’t want to scare you off before we even get started.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Jack uses your willingness to lean against him to curl around you. “I’m tired of runnin’ from you, sugar. I’m too damn old to be actin’ like a young buck anymore. You’re my soulmate.”

“Can’t say I’m ever gonna get tired of hearing you say it.” You hum softly, turning your head to press your lips to his cheek.

The warmth that spreads through his whole body at the simple gesture would have made him run for the hills a week ago. Now he just makes a small sound of appreciation and squeezes your hip again before he slides over to start making sandwiches for everyone.

“So this is new.” When Jack moves to one side, your brother appears between you with an unreadable expression that only hints at curiosity. “When she showed up at my place Friday night she was definitely not glowing like this.” In fact, you had been miserable and in tears, so the change has him about ready to offer to be Jack’s best man someday.

“That’s my fault.” Jack isn’t going to shy away from his mistakes, not when they have affected you so deeply. He owns who he is to the marrow of his bones. “I couldn’t get my head out of my ass long enough to realize I was scared.”

“I know she’s a pain in the ass,” Matt smirks at you and you glower in response. “But she’s not that bad once you get used to her.”

Jack chuckles when you turn around and throw a piece of carrot at your brother and stick your tongue out at him. “Mature.” He teases as he lays out the bread for the other half of the lunch.

“Middle child.” Matt tells Jack, as though that explains every ounce of your behavior. “Anyway…whatever this is…she looks happy. And she’s got her sense of humor back. So keep doing what you’re doing.”

It says something that just acknowledging the fact that you are soulmates makes you happy. Jack nods, and levels a genuine look at your brother. “Your sister's health and happiness are my top priorities.” He promises seriously.

"Glad to hear it." He may give you both shit, but Matt takes his role as older brother to two younger sisters very seriously. If your little sister hadn't met her soulmate-now-husband in high school, there would have been a lot more intimidating of boyfriends. "Like I said, she's a pain in the ass. But she's our pain in the ass."

Jack chuckles quietly, noticing how you look like you want to die, melt into the hardwoods to never be seen again. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He nods towards your brother and the unspoken agreement is arranged. The one that speaks to if Jack hurts you - again - he will sit and take the ass whooping he deserves.

"Jack, honey." Your mother looks over as your brother moves away and smiles. "Will you tell us a little about yourself?" It's an innocent effort to get the ball rolling, but she's trying to do it gently. Any little tidbits to get to know her daughter's soulmate better.

Nodding, Jack decides that it’s best that he puts his hands to use while he answers that loaded question. “Well, ma’am, I was born and raised on a ranch. Decided it wasn’t the life I wanted anymore when I – lost my first soulmate. I went into the military and then when I was done with that, I joined Statesman.”

"Military?" That makes your mother tilt her head in interest. "What branch? My father was a Navy man."

“Air Force.” Jack gives a small shrug. “I have a love of planes, but didn’t get to fly ‘em when I was in because of not being an officer.”

“It’s never too late to get your pilot’s license,” your sister volunteers, her cheery optimism on display as always. If you and Jack are finally giving things a try - which it seems you are - then she wants him to be happy, too.

"I fly now." Jack assures her, giving a peacock proud grin. "That plane that was being pulled into the hangar after you landed is mine. Brought back from New York."

“You were in New York?” Your mother asks, clearly asking why without saying it.

“Jack came to bring me home.” You turn around at the counter, one hand pausing in stirring the soup on the stove. “He’s been taking care of me since everything happened.”

"And he flew a…fighter plane there…" The obvious questions are there, bubbling under her tone as if there is a piece to the puzzle that your mother can't see but wants to find out. It makes Jack grateful for the fake tattoos that are on your bodies in case someone wants to see.

"Quickest way to get there." Jack says breezily, like it was standard operating procedure to fly it. "I'm sure you understand the need to get to your soulmate when something happens."

“You almost got arrested for reckless driving the day Dad broke his leg,” you remind your mother with a raised eyebrow. “And he was already at the hospital. I’m just glad Jack had a way to get to me that wasn’t an eleven hour car ride.”

Your mom nods her head in agreement, but he can see that she knows that there is more to the story than what you’re telling. “I don’t know if I woulda survived an eleven hour trip.” He tells her.

“Hell, I might not have.” The mumble under your breath is only loud enough for Jack, but you offer your family an apologetic expression. “We can’t talk about it,” you remind them. “But I promise you, Jack is taking care of me until I’m allowed to go back to work.”

“It’s not going to affect your opening?” Your dad asks. “I don’t know what happened, but if they aren’t letting you go back to work– that’s just a precaution right?”

“Purely precaution. Champ wants me fully rested and in the best possible shape for the opening, so we’re being overly careful.” Deciding you can leave the soup for a few minutes, you go over to the table to pour a glass of tea for yourself and squeeze your dad’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’m okay, and my team is amazing. The opening is going to be perfect.”

Jack finishes assembling all the sandwiches, sticking to a mixture of cheeses and smearing some of the garlic butter that he had made from your cabin on the outside of the bread. The griddle in the middle of the stove is already waiting, but he waits for you to tell him when to put them on to toast so they can be ready when the soup is.

It’s when Jack is passing by your father at the table with a stack of plates in his arms that your father hrrmphs, and you turn around at the stove to frown. “What?” You ask, knowing that sound all too well.

“He has it.” Your father huffs, pointing at Jack’s arm.

“Yeah, Dad. We’re soulmates. I told you that.”

“Sure,” your father crosses his arms. “But he also said he had a first soulmate, and second soulmates only exist in fairy tales.”

"I thought so too." Jack admits easily. "It's– that's one of the reasons why I was–" Jack stops and turns to look towards you. "I denied it. I didn't want it because I didn't think it was possible. But it is, and we are soulmates - whether or not I wanted it or thought it was possible."

“How do you feel about it now?” Your mother asks, obviously actually asking how he feels about you, and eyeing you seriously when you try to stop her from finishing her sentence.

“I would die for your daughter.” Jack tells your mother honestly. “Her health, her happiness, are the most important things in the world to me.”

“I think we can stop the interrogations on that note, don’t you?” The question may be for your mother, but it’s Jack that you put your arms around and murmur “I love you” in his ear. It’s enough that he’s not fighting it anymore. Enough that he’s willing to face the fear inherent in loving deeply for a second time. You don’t want this entire visit to be an interview.

“It’s okay.” Jack assures you, just as quietly. He had expected this type of interrogation, especially because of his actions and you fleeing to New York in the face of your last argument.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” You whisper back, leaving a brushed kiss on his cheek before stepping away to grab the stick blender and purée the soup. “Everybody having grilled cheese?” The bright question for the group is meant to change the subject and distract. Everyone, especially you.

Your brother-in-law snickers, obviously onto your meaning and he nods. “I want one of course, but I’m gonna go check on the kids.” He stands up and sends Jack a nod of encouragement. “Be right back.”

Thankfully the air clears while you and Jack finish cooking lunch, and by the time everything is on the table the kids are up from their nap and wanting to talk about the horsies that Mommy and Daddy promised they could go see – meaning you will absolutely be taking a trip to Churchill Downs tomorrow come hell or high water.

“Don’t understand how you can make carrot soup taste good.” Jack groans as he spoons up another bite and rolls his eyes at the taste.

“She’s magic.” Your sister points her spoon at you in between mouthfuls. “I swear I gained so much weight while she was in culinary school. Everything she makes is amazing.”

Jack sends you a proud wink, nodding. “I can just imagine.” He tears off a bite of his sandwich to dunk it into the soup to meld the flavors together.

Normally ready to dive face first into a bowl of your carrot soup, your nephew is completely demolishing his half of the grilled cheese that your sister put in front of him, practically cackling about how much he likes it. “It tastes like garlic bread!” He gasps excitedly, as though the rest of you aren’t eating the very same thing.

Jack chuckles and nods. “I always like garlic bread best, how about you, buddy?” He asks your nephew with interest.

"Daddy says I can't ever be a vampire." The little boy declares, chest puffed up proudly as he rips off another bite of his sandwich.

That is definitely the comment made to a person that loves garlic. “That’s good.” Jack raises his brows seriously. “I’ve heard that being a vampire is no fun. No beach days.”

This seems to make the little boy pause, and think about the consequences of vampirism incredibly seriously. "That's good," he says, imitating Jack's tone the way only a child can. "I like the beach. Being a vampire does not sound fun."

All of the adults laugh and nod in agreement as the sounds of eating give way to amusement. Jack winks at the younger man. "You'd rather be a cowboy." He tells the boy seriously. "We eat garlic bread all the time."

"Cowboys ride horses." At nearly four years old, Nate's love of horses is already so well established that it has rubbed off on his baby sister - who squeals and giggles and babbles with delight whenever there is anything on the tv at home that features the large animals. "Horses are super cool."

"Horses are cool." Jack shoots a glance at your sister and brother-in-law. "There are horses here." He offers, the southern edge of the property behind the distillery is lined up with the neighbor's horse farm. The horses love to come hang out by the fence line and scarf down scraps the visitors bring them. "I'm sure that if you are really good and listen to your parents, they might let you visit the horses, feed them some apples?"

Nate's little eyes go round as saucers, immediately turning to his parents with desperate pleading painted across every inch of his face. "I'll be the best boy!" He promises, clasping his hands over his heart in the most dramatic fashion possible. "I promise, I promise!"

Jack knows that he might have put your sister and her husband on the spot, but it could also be something that the kids enjoy. The tours end around five but the horses are going to be waiting around because a lot of the staff also enjoy feeding them. The neighbor didn't mind. Hell, his feed costs dropped after people started feeding the horses.

"There are horses on the property?" Your sister asks, looking to Jack with curiosity. "Like as a gimmick or something?"

“Nah.” Jack shakes his head. “At the property line. Neighboring property is a horse farm.” He explains. “The horses love to come to the fence line and beg the tourists for the fruit.”

"And the owner is okay with that?" She glances back at her son and over at your parents, collecting reactions when Jack nods.

"Why don't we take a distillery tour this afternoon?" You suggest, thinking this might be the perfect middle ground for a family afternoon activity. "We can enjoy some samples in the saloon after and then go bring the horses some snacks?"

"That sounds good to me." Jack agrees. "I can make sure you get the extra special tour." He chuckles. "More samples and no other tour groups with us."

"Perks of knowing the CEO." Your father chuckles, raising his tea in salute. "Sounds like a plan, kids."

This is going to work. The nerves that had bounced around in his belly start to settle and Jack leans back, smirking at you as you murmur to your sister quietly. Obviously talking about things that only sisters do - or when a group of friends get together. He doesn't mind this at all.

Under the table, your hand finds Jack's thigh and squeezes gently, the quiet signal of support and happiness speaking loud and clear in the moment. You're going to make this trip a good one.

******

It’s a few hours before the tour happens. The younger kids are easily entertained at the pond in the small park nearby after the adults get everything unpacked in their guest rooms, and ultimately the large group is ready to explore the sprawling Statesman campus. Jack smirks as they start all talking at once as you field questions.

“Okay, you guys have to chill.” You’re laughing despite the admonishment, poking your sister in the arm playfully and waggling another finger at your curious father. “I asked Diana to do this tour for you herself and she’s the best, but she’s also my very closest friend down here, so you have to be nice.”

“Smart business.” Your mother teases, winking at you. “Always make friends with the boss’s wife.”

“It wasn’t sneaky or anything, she’s just really cool.” If anything, you get special treatment for being Jack’s soulmate - like your entire restaurant, for example.

“Then I think I will like this woman.” She decides, wanting to learn about your life here. Especially because your soulmate is now here. She hasn’t missed the way that Jack hovers over you and she approves of it.

“Who are we likin’, sweet darlin?” Diana has the uncanny ability to seemingly appear out of nowhere, but this time it’s completely reasonable as she strolls out the front doors of Statesman’s main offices with Champ in tow to throw her arms around you. She’d been to see you while you were healing in Ginger’s lab and Jack has filled her in on the details of the mission that he could manage to speak about.

“You, love!” You return her embrace eagerly, glad to see smiles on the faces of people you love again. “Thank you so much for doing this, Di.”

“No problem at all!” She waves away your thanks and tuts. “Your family is our family.” She promises before she turns towards the group and puts on her friendliest smile to introduce herself to your family.

“You may regret that,” your father jokes, knowing that all of his children like to bust him about being a handful.

"When you deal with the egos I do, anyone is easy to handle." Diana jokes, throwing a wink back at her husband as she ushers him forward. "This is my husband, Champ." She introduces him. "Technically Jack and your daughter's boss."

“Technically both, but only one of ‘em listens.” Champ chuckles, shaking your father’s hand and accepting a hug from your mother. “Jack’s stubborner than a mule in March muck.”

"Now Champ, I wouldn't be your best employee if I just marched to your tune and you know it." Jack shoots back, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and grinning at the older man.

Narrowing in on the way Jack says employee instead of agent, Champ shakes his head and chuckles before looking back at your siblings. "Don't ever hire your best friend, y'all. They'll drive you up a mountain, and worst of all they'll be so good for business that you can't fire 'em."

Everyone chuckles and Jack slides his arm around you. It's been a few hours and he wants to make sure you aren't too tired. He knows that even though Ginger's technically healed you better than new, he still sees you broken and unconscious when he closes his eyes. "You doin' okay, sugar?" He murmurs in your ear.

"I'm okay." You're a little tired, but all things considered it's a miracle that you feel as good as you do. Grateful just to be on your feet, you lean into Jack's side and smile encouragingly.

"Good." He hums softly. "If you feel tired, you slip away and I will make sure that your family is all tipsy by the time we walk back into the house."

"If I'm tired I'll find some coffee." You promise him quietly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'm not leaving you alone with this group."

He appreciates that you aren't ready to throw him to the wolves, but as the two of you walk behind them, he lets you lean against him as you stroll. Enjoying the way that you are trusting him.

Diana knows every brick and every blade of grass on this campus, and she’ll tell their stories without reservation. You stay snuggled into Jack’s side as Diana regales your family with stories as the whole group of you slowly make your way through the maze of buildings.

"I bet they are all eager to see your restaurant and the tasting rooms." Jack jokes as he leans into you.

“They’re eager to eat and drink,” you joke back, wishing you felt normal enough to be in that kitchen working with your staff. “Not that I can blame them. A cup of coffee sounds heavenly right now.”

"I don't know how you could be tired." He chuckles quietly. "You managed to sleep most of the day and all night long."

“If you’re gonna tease me about it, I won’t cuddle you tonight.” Wrinkling your nose and forehead at him as determinedly as possible just makes you look silly, but it’s not exactly a serious threat in the first place. Waking up with Jack has been amazing, and you’d hate to give up that privilege.

“Hmmmmm, that sounds like a threat.” Jack hums, smirking at you. “Does that mean I need to tie you to the bed?” The words come out playfully before he realizes you might not appreciate that considering you had been tied to a damn chair and tortured. His face falls and he tightens his hold on you. “Shit– I’m sorry, sugar.”

“It’s okay.” You turn into him completely, hanging on to him tightly as your family follows Diana down the path and you and Jack hang back together for a moment. “It’s okay…you meant…you were teasing. And I love that you tease. But maybe…” It makes you shiver a little, the memories like flashes of a movie in your mind. “Maybe no bondage stuff. For at least a little while.”

“Doesn’t have to ever be a thing if you don’t want, sugar.” He promises you. “I know that it can be tough to get over it. I just didn’t think.” He rubs his hand up and down your back soothingly.

“I used to like it.” But now the specter of what happened hangs over something that used to be pleasurable, and you wonder how many other things might have been accidentally ruined by the Rollins brothers. “I honestly don’t know about it now, though. We’ll have to wait and see, I guess.”

“Therapy.” Jack murmurs quietly, pressing his lips to your forehead. And he knows that if it’s something you never want to do again, he would be okay with that. Your comfort was more important than a kink.

“We should see when the doctor is available.” You tilt your head back to silently ask for a kiss, appreciating the comfort of having him close. He hasn’t left your side except to be in the next room since he brought you back to Kentucky and you’re so grateful.

It’s an easy press of his lips to yours. Keeping it gentle and soft. Still, he keeps his arms around you and breathes you in. “Anytime you want sugar.” He promises. “You want to wait until they have gone home?”

“You still planning on holding out on me like a responsible adult who wants to have open channels of communication before we’re intimate?” The eyebrow you raise at him, even while you’re murmuring quietly, is fully teasing. He’s right to want to make sure you’re talking through things before you start sleeping together. Even if you are already sleeping together in the literal sense.

“Believe me, sugar.” Jack groans quietly, kissing your ear. “I’d rather have had your tight little walls around me instead of my fist in the shower this morning.”

“As-soon-as-possible.” Mumbled together like one long word, your forehead drops to Jack’s shoulder to avoid groaning out loud. “We’re starting therapy as soon as possible.”

He chuckles, the only response he can have in a situation like this. “Of course, sugar. Whenever you want.”

“Oh god.” Your sister’s voice breaks the spell, jostling you and Jack out of your cozy moment. “You’re really in the gross lovey-dovey beginnings stages still, aren’t you?” Like you and Jack teasing each other, she doesn’t mean a word. She’s grinning the whole time and practically giggling behind her dramatic pout. “Come on, Diana says it’s time for tasting and you know nothing is going to keep Dad and Matt away from all that whiskey for long.”

Jack snorts and taps your lip when you start pouting. “We can kiss later, sugar. Right now, let’s go get drunk with your family.”

“Gross.” Eliza snorts, pinching your arm before turning back to trot up the block to promptly kiss her husband and take the baby back from him. The picture of domestic bliss teasing you about having feelings is laughable and both of you know it. “Fiiiiine,” you sigh dramatically to Jack and take his hand instead. “But I’m gonna hold you to that. Save that kiss for later.”

“I have a lot of kisses stored up.” Jack waggles his brows. “Depends on where you want them.”

“Everywhere.” Fingers threading together, you tighten your hand in his. “Absolutely everywhere. Please and thank you.”

“Think my tongue would be a good replacement for my fingers?” He teases. “With your parents in the house?” He gives you a shocked look but his smirk is smug.

“I will make literally anything you want for breakfast tomorrow.” Whatever he wants, because you know that what you want is him.

Jack chuckles and arches a brow at you playfully. “Anything?”

“Anything.” At first you were just playfully bargaining, but now you’re intrigued.

Jack senses that you see it as a challenge and he grins. “Okay, how about aebleskiver?” He asks.

Starting to walk along the path, you raise one very impressed eyebrow at Jack and hum in thought. “Do you have an aebleskiver pan somewhere in that mansion of a house?”

“Maybe?” That Jack doesn’t know but he’s collected a lot of shit from missions over the years.

“If you do, then you’re on.” Loving the fact that he’s willing to be playful, you press a kiss to his cheek and follow your family inside the building at the end of the walkway to the distillery’s tasting rooms.

The taste testing is a supreme success. With Champ there, the normal bottles that are available are quickly shoved aside for some of the more precious liquors Statesman offers. “Show off.” Jack huffs under his breath as Champ produces a bottle of ‘61 double barreled blend.

“Just wantin’ to make sure these fine folks have a good time.” Champ leans back against the bar to survey the room as you and your family enjoy the tasting. He isn’t blind to the fact that you’ve barely had a sip from your early glasses so that you could take the baby from your sister, or that your nephew’s apparent love for popcorn is currently being satiated by his own wife and one of the bartenders who provides snacks in this particular room. Diana is taking delight in sharing a basket of the salty snack with her new little friend. “She seems to be doin’ okay,” he murmurs, not nodding to you because he knows Jack hasn’t taken his eyes off you.

“Stronger than half our agents.” Jack muses, not for the first time. “Damnest thing I’ve ever seen, Champ.”

“Think I should get her to swap jobs?” Champ chuckles softly, not meaning a word of it. He had read the complete report that Jack typed up while sitting beside your pod, as well as Rye’s report and Ginger’s updates on your health. Admittedly he was pretty impressed, but he would never expect Jack to be okay with making you even a junior agent.

“Only if you want to put me in an early grave.” Jack huffs, fully aware of how hypocritical it sounds but he couldn’t take you putting yourself in danger. Hell, he doesn’t want you near a mandoline if there’s the possibility of you getting hurt, though you would fight him on that. “I just hope it’s not a front and she cracks.” Jack admits.

“You’ll keep an eye on her.” He knows Jack well enough to know that he won’t rest for a second if he thinks you might not actually be okay. “Since y’all are getting along so much better now.”

Jack cuts his eyes over to Champ. “Plannin’ on sayin’ ‘told you so’?” He huffs, fully aware of the smirk hidden under Champ’s bushy mustache.

“Do I need to?” He will, of course, at some point when it’s amusing to all present. Today he’s just glad to see you up and laughing with that smile you beam at Jack every now and then.

"No." He rolls his eyes and grumbles under his breath even as he shuffles slightly. He knows now that Champ had been right but damned if he just wants to concede right now.

“I’ll save it for my best man's speech at the wedding.” Champ chuckles, looping his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans.

Jack blows out another huff, wanting to comment that maybe you wouldn’t want to get married but Champ knows that isn’t true. You are the type to want a marriage and whatever else comes with a soulmate.

“Cat got your tongue, Jack?” The chuckle turns to a puckish giggle and Champ claps his best friend on the shoulder. “I’m just happy for ya, is all. You know that.”

“I know.” Above all else, he knows that Champ is in his corner.

“You gonna come back to work soon?” Now that you’re safe and mark-free, Jack is technically free to do that. Champ just wonders if his friend is up to letting you out of his sight.

“At least not until after her grand opening.” Jack frowns as he watches you laugh with your brother and sister, taking another sip of the whiskey you are tasting and debating the different notes they are tasting with them. “You know how it is when you are out in the field. I don’t want to put that on her with her opening so soon.”

“God forbid you get wrapped up in something and miss it.” Champ nods solemnly, knowing it would devastate you if that happened. He’s had enough conversations with his wife to understand how much you care about Jack. He clears his throat though, quietly, wondering how Jack will react to a bit of news. “That kid Kingsman sent us - Yvain? He’s headin’ back to London. Adjustment just didn’t happen, so they’re sendin’ somebody new over.”

Jack frowns, brows knitting together. “They sending the kid back?” He asks, wondering how you would take it now if Tex shows back up. His jaw still aches sometimes but damned if he would ever let him know it. It had been well deserved.

"Yep." The older man doesn't shift, just watches Jack carefully as they talk, with the casual air of someone discussing a shopping list. "With the new Kingsman agent. We're gonna send Bobby over. He's chompin' at the bit to flex his muscles and he's done well overseas." While he isn't thrilled to be sending his only child to a different continent for work, Champ knows that Bobby's future means more than his own comfort does. His boy is bright and clever and deserves the chance to grow.

Jack’s frown deepens slightly, born of his own mistakes and insecurities, but that can’t be helped. The only one who is to blame for Tex having intimate knowledge of you is him. It’s not at all arrogant to believe that if Jack hadn’t played fast and loose with your emotions that you wouldn’t have given the boy a second look. “They’re sendin’ two back?” That surprises him, knowing they are light in manpower. “But Bobby’ll do fine. He’s a good agent. Real good.”

"We're sendin' Yvain and Bobby back, they're sendin' Tex and this gal Isolde." The code names of the Kingsman agents give his lazy Southern tongue a little trouble, but he likes the girl well enough. "Had a call with her this morning. I think she'll fit right in."

“Haven’t seen many that will fit in.” Jack grumbles, still slightly peeved by Galahad shooting him in the fuckin’ head.

"Think you might be glad of this one," Champ shuffles slightly to face Jack. "Seein' as she's the kid's soulmate and all."

A riot of emotions rides over his face as he absorbs the news that Tequila has found his soulmate. Relief being the primary one, hoping that with that discovery, his little crush on Jack's soulmate would settle down. "How did they find that out?" He asks, trying to seem like he is completely casual and not having a mini celebration inside.

"Photos." There's a twist on Champ's lips as he sees Jack's shoulders tense then deliberately relax like he's forcing himself not to have a reaction. "That scar left from his broken arm, back during the rodeo days? He saw it in some old photos of her." Obviously when Tequila had reached agent status the mark had been eliminated from his skin and therefore from hers, as well. In the years since, the boy had nearly forgotten it ever existed. "Accordin' to Eggsy, they're a hell of a team."

“Well that could mean anything.” Jack grumbles. Wondering what this soulmate of his looks like and if he’s good for the kid. Despite his own issues with Tequila honing in on you, he still cared about him.

"We'll find out this weekend." Chuckling over the fact that Jack's protective instincts never waver, Champ shrugs his shoulders and claps him on the shoulder again. "Bobby's goin' away party is Saturday. He'd hate for his Uncle Jack to miss it. Ya hear?"

“Of course.” Jack nods immediately, smirking slightly. “Kid will be disappointed we didn’t get a chance to work together.”

"No way of knowin' what will happen in the future." Better men than them have tried to control it and failed, so Champ is even going to try for a prediction. "For now, though, this is a good choice for him. Let him learn from somebody besides his old man and his uncle. Get a new perspective."

“It’ll be a good thing for the kid.” He chuckles. “Let him get laid without a report goin’ to his old man about it.”

"God help me," Champ huffs, wiping one hand down his face. "I'm hopin' he takes after his mama in that and not you or me."

Jack grins, knowing the boy the is already a lady’s man, even if Champ hasn’t realized it yet. “Hope you don’t take it too hard when you realize he was raised by all of us.”

"Just hopin' he has his mother's brains about it all." Knowing damn well that Bobby Rogers is the same sort of man that he and Jack are, Champ ends up chuckling. "You and I? We talk a big game but we fall head over heels. That woman of mine has such a clear head that I swear she's never even heard of fog."

“She’s smarter than all of us put together, Champ.” Jack jokes. “That ain’t exactly fair.”

"And look at who her best friend is." He's seen other friends come and go from his wife's life over the years. People she could and couldn't be absolutely honest with, people she could or couldn't relate to easily. The only other friend she's ever made so quickly and completely was Ginger. Watching you and Diana laugh and chat together with your family is such a soothing balm over his soul. Champ would give anything to make his wife happy. It was worth it to bring you here for that alone. "She said it's like finally gettin' the little sister she always wanted."

“Oh god.” Jack huffs, rolling his eyes. “That means they are going to gang up on you and in turn that means you gang up on me.”

"Already have." The older man laughs again, shaking his head fondly. While Jack was off being a miserable lump over the last few weeks, Champ had been seeing more and more of you around the house as you and Diana grew closer. "I'm lettin' them hire an event planner to start doin' parties and weddings. Technically it's all part of Diana's domain, but your gal will be doin' the catering out of her restaurant."

Jack muses over the idea for several minutes, remembering how you had talked about just that idea right from the beginning. "Hopefully she doesn't overextend herself and by extension - Diana." He does think you would be fantastic at it though.

"I told 'em they had to hire somebody to do the actual planning." Champ nods, having had the same worry. "Di can work magic on anything, but doin' all the tours and weddings would be too much even for my Wonder Woman. And I know your gal wanted to do these from the beginning, but she was the first one to mention hiring a planner. So it'll work out." He chuckles though, glancing at Jack. "Only question is if it's gonna be you or Tequila that gets married first."

"Shit Champ." Jack huffs, propping his hands on his hips as he contemplates that idea. "Do you know how long it's been since my first weddin'?" He asks, remembering the small, ranch wedding he had with Abigail. He had been so goddamn happy and eager to put a ring on her finger. Still a wet behind the ears virgin who wanted nothing but his soulmate. This time - and he's already admitting there will be a 'this time' - he has no idea how he will feel. He's older, more experienced and still completely out of his depths.

"Yes I do." He knows exactly how long, but he also knows that Jack needed that distance. "And when y'all do decide to make a go of it, we'll all be glad to celebrate with you."

"We are takin' things slow." Jack admits quietly. "I want to go to therapy with her. Because of what happened to her and because of my own shit I dumped on her."

If Champ is surprised, he doesn't let himself show it. He nods, rocking a little on his heels, and leans back against the bar counter behind them. "I'll make sure Doc makes space for you," he promises, lowering his voice a little more to match Jack.

"Thanks." Jack keeps his eyes on you, alert for any signs of fatigue or discomfort. Maybe a little overzealous but it has been less than 36 hours since he had held your limp body in the back of that SUV. "I appreciate that. I know I'm fucked up, have been for a long time but I don't want to hurt her anymore."

"Jack Daniels is a changed man." He can't resist teasing just a little. After all, they are friends. "From emotionless ladies man to considerate and caring partner. Can't say I ain't impressed."

"I've always been considerate." Jack puffs up, offended by that comment. "Considerate enough to let women run while the gettin' was good."

"I said 'considerate and caring partner'," Champ reminds him. "Been a long time since you had a woman who you thought of as an equal, that's all I'm saying. Never meant to imply you had no manners."

"What if I'm not good at it?" Jack's eyes tear away from you for a moment, meeting Champ's watery blue eyes before he looks away in embarrassment again. "Bein' a partner? What if I'm too goddamn bad at it and make her more miserable than she was before?"

"You're not gonna be perfect every single day." He says quietly, shifting so he's imperceptibly closer to his friend and refocusing his attention fully on Jack. "If you try to be perfect you're gonna end up a ticking time bomb of stress and urgency. Do the best you can. Support her. Be there for her. Let yourself love her in the best way you can, and when you fuck something up you make sure you goddamn apologize. And when you don't know what to do? You talk to her. Talk to the doc with her. Can't fix a problem if you don't admit somethin' is broken."

Jack has to admit that Champ gives damn good advice. He knows that even as happy as him and Diana have been over the years, there have been nights where Champ was banished to his couch in his office or Diana wasn’t talkin’ to him. So it’s obviously advice he’s used himself over the years. “I never want her to look that broken ever again.” He doesn’t mean just physically. That was horrible, but nothing could match the horror at seeing the utter defeat in your eyes. The light extinguished, the joy vanquished and luckily it had returned. He never wants to be the cause of it fading again.

"Then you're gonna have to learn to talk without just runnin' your mouth." It makes Champ chuckle a little, and he shrugs one shoulder as he looks back to you with your family - sitting now, watching the baby yawn in the double stroller. "And if you get it figured out, you let me know? I still can't quite get the hang of it, but I'm tryin'."

Jack chuckles and shakes his head, reaching out and slapping his friend’s shoulder. “Be sure to file an after action report as soon as I have mission success.”

Champ's reply is stifled when you turn your head, smiling back at Jack and stifling your own yawn. The man beside him seems to respond instantly and Champ is of no mind to keep him from you. Especially not today.

Jack doesn’t even excuse himself, just pushes off the bar and starts walking over towards you. “I need to get you back.” He murmurs before he looks over at Diana. “Our wonderful tour guide will take you folks out to see the horses, but I’m going to take this one back to the house.”

"Of course." Your mother reacts before anyone else can, watching Jack with you for a moment before looking back to Diana. "Maybe you could recommend someplace for a big group to go for dinner in Louisville? It would be nice to see some of the city while we're here."

"Of course!" Diana cuts in so you don't protest. No one is going to let you cook or play host tonight. Not if you're not up to it. "I'd be glad to give you some recommendations. Let's take the kids to the property line and we can chat?" She puts one hand softly on your shoulder and smiles. "You get some rest, honey."

The caretaking instincts have kicked in, in everyone around you, and you know that you don't have a prayer of winning when they're all dead set on looking after you. "Okay." You nod after a moment. "But I'm just a little tired, that's all. I'm fine."

Jack smiles triumphantly at Diana and your mom before he winds his arm around you. "Come on, sugar. We'll go have us a nap so you can spend some more time with your folks when they get back." He suggests, fingers stroking your skin right at your hip, easing under your shirt automatically so he can feel your warmth.

He gives you enough time to exchange a few hugs before bundling you out the door, and you tuck your hand in his back pocket as you head back toward the neighborhood. "You don't have to lay down with me, Jack, it's okay," you murmur, allowing yourself the chance to lay your head on his shoulder. "Unless my folks have exhausted you. Which I would totally understand."

Jack snorts, aware that he could continue to do whatever for hours but the opportunity to hold you isn’t one he’s willing to give up. “I’m not going to let you nap without me.” He pouts at you playfully.

"Afraid I'll leave your sheets smelling like me?" You tease, raising your head to smirk at him. As slow as you've agreed to move, there doesn't seem to be any shortage of attraction between you. Thank goodness for that.

He chuckles and holds you just a little tighter. “More like I don’t want you to be lonely in that big bed all by yourself.”

"Mmm." If you tried to claim that you wouldn't be, it would be an awful lie. "We shouldn't sleep too long, though. If they're going to go out to eat, we should think about dinner, too."

The chuckle that escapes his lips is filthy but he nods. “Baby, I’ll be perfectly happy making a sandwich for you.”

"You're not gonna let me lift a finger, are you?" Sure you smirk at the suggestiveness in his laugh, but you just pat his ass with the hand that is tucked into his back pocket.

“Are you going to complain?” He asks, lifting his brow at you. “You don’t want me spoiling you right now and taking care of you?”

"I'm not complaining at all." You shake your head, searching his face to make sure he's just teasing and not upset at all. You had seen him talking to Champ but couldn't hear what they were talking about. "I just...I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me. I can always curl up on the couch or grab myself something to eat if you have other things to do."

“I have nowhere else that is more important than being right here.” The worry that you’re feeling smothered hits him and he looks back at you seriously. “Unless you need some time to yourself? You need me get lost for awhile, sugar?”

"No." As if to prove it, you squeeze him tighter to your side. "I just didn't know if Champ was talking to you about work or something." Looking up at him, it's easy to tell that you're both worried in different ways. "I want to spend time with you, Jack. But if you have work to do, I don't want to keep you from me. I'm a big girl with plenty of patience."

"I'm not plannin' on going back out into the field until after your big openin'." Jack admits with a small shrug of his shoulders. "I want to make sure we have time for a few good sessions with the doc before anything."

“Really?” Despite how well you’ve been doing this last day and a half or so, you really did expect Jack to run for the field as soon as he was able. It’s been his whole life - why would you ever think he would do otherwise? “Well,” you offer him a shy smile. “I can’t say I’m upset about that.”

"Listen, sugar." Jack stops in the middle of the gravel path that leads towards the employee housing and takes a hold of your shoulders gently. "I know that I've acted like a horse's ass, but I–" he sighs and tries again. "I want to be here for things that are important to you, and I want to make sure that you are good before I step back into the field." He rubs your shoulders gently. "I love you, sugar."

“I love you, too.” Since the shock of hearing him say it for the very first time yesterday, this time it warms you through and seeps into your bones with comfort as you put your arms around him. “And I’m grateful that you want to be home with me while we’re working up to the opening. Just like I’m grateful that you’re spending time with my family and having us at your place.” He watches you intently, you’ve found, and you keep your arms around him. “I guess I just want to make sure that you’re taking care of yourself as well as you’re taking care of me.”

"I'm getting used to...to caring about someone like this again." Jack admits quietly. "It’s different than caring about the people I work with or friends. But I don't mind it."

“There’s no rush.” No matter what, you’re always going to want to give him the respect and support he deserves, which means letting him come to this at his own pace. “If you want to coexist and spend all that free time together? Baby, I’m in. But I’m not going to be offended if you’re the kind of person who needs alone time to recharge.” Placing a kiss on the tip of his nose, you smile softly and lean into his arms. “We’re still learning about each other, but I love what I’m learning.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to disappear.” The words slip out of his mouth unbidden, and he wishes he could take them back. It’s a fear, a real one. That if he takes his eyes off you for a second you will be in danger or worse again.

Frowning, you pull back again and search his face. “What do you mean?”

“I–” Jack reaches up and runs his hand over your hair and down your back. “She asked me to go to the store that day.” He admits quietly. “When she realized she forgot the candles. But I was fuckin’ with the grill. We were havin’ the boys come up from the bunk house for a barbecue and cake and beer.” He shakes his head, reminding himself that he wasn’t to blame. If it hadn’t been that day, Rollins would have found another day to ruin his life. “I let her out of my sight and she died. I pushed you away and let you out of my sight and Rollins got his claws into you. Tried to take you from me too.” He leans forward and presses his head against yours again. “Only thing I can think of right now is that as long as I have you near me, you’re safe.”

“Oh honey…” Instantly tightening your arms around him, you press a reassuring kiss to Jack’s lips and hold onto him for a long moment. “I’m sorry. You keep your eagle eye on me for as long as you need to feel better, okay? I’m not going anywhere with you for at least the next few days. And if next week you want to come and make yourself useful at the restaurant while we get ready to open, you’re more than welcome. Just—” Your hand gently cups his cheek and brushes over the stubble on his jaw. “You saved me, Jack. You did. And Rollins is gone forever. You did that for me and for her.”

“Tiny little pieces.” Jack reminds himself quietly. “He’ll never hurt you again, sugar.”

“Why don’t you take me home so we can have that nap?” It makes sense why he doesn’t even let you sleep without him curled around you, knowing now that he’s working through fears of his own. You would never criticize him for not. Not in a million years. “We can make some sandwiches for dinner when we wake up, and see what everybody is feeling up to when my family gets back tonight?”

“I can light a fire in the outdoor fireplace.” Because his house is larger, his back yard is larger too. He had let Diana create a relaxing atmosphere out there with Adirondack chairs and stringed lights around the stone fireplace.

“Sounds perfect.” You start to walk again, arms around each other with your pace at a stroll. “Fair warning, though. My mom’s already figured out what part of your yard would make the perfect place for me to plant a garden.”

Jack laughs and the tension he hadn’t realized he had been holding in his shoulders about why he is hovering. Or the tension about how you would react to it. “Raised beds or no?”

You nod, laughing with him as you turn the corner into your neighborhood. “Raised beds for some of it, to create contrast. I swear, that woman is where I get my planning genes from. I bet if you asked her tonight she’ll have the whole thing mapped in her head.”

“Well, when you want to get planting, you let me know.” Jack muses. He doesn’t use the back yard for much and if you wanted to grow things, it would be yours to use.

“I’m not gonna take over your yard, honey.” If you lived together it would be one thing. It would at least be a conversation to have. But it’s very nice of him to be so open and welcoming. “I’m just saying it would be a chat that would make my mom happy.”

He snorts. “I hardly ever go back there.” He tells you. “If you wanted to put a pool in there, I wouldn’t care. Though I might use it then.”

As you turn the corner off the main street to head toward his house, you shrug slightly. Is not a big deal, and it shouldn’t matter. But here you are being shy about it. “It’s still your house,” you remind him. “If it were like months or even years from now and we were living together, that would be different. But this is your personal space.”

“Maybe it won’t be my personal space soon.” Jack muses. “Your little cabin is smaller than mine and we do have two agents coming in.” He says it casually, like it’s not a big deal. “It wouldn’t be much different from the last two days.”

“Did you j—” Stopping dead in the middle of the sidewalk in front of his large house, you’re practically gaping at him for how casually he just tossed out the option like he was saying you should have BLTs for dinner while your heart pounds a mile a minute. “You want us to live together?”

Jack stops and turns back towards you, slightly uneasy. “You don’t have to. I know it’s a step. A big one. But don’t feel like I’m pushing.”

“No, I do!” You blurt out, flustering at how quickly you jump on the invitation once you realize it’s sincere. It feels like your chest could burst from the happy way your heart swells and you reach forward to grab his hand again. “You’re not pushing. You’re offering. I’m just…” You exhale softly, looking embarrassed. “I’m still getting used to the idea that you want me — that you love me — the same way I love you.”

“I understand.” Jack does, and he’s grateful that you are as compassionate as you are. Otherwise he would have been out on his ass. “I spent plenty of time loudly telling you that I didn’t. I don’t expect you to – I guess understand – right away.”

“How about we make this something that we talk to the doc about?” You step closer to him to put your arm through his and start to lead him up the walk to his own front door. “In the meantime, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wanted to accept without thinking.” It’s silly to admit, but having him be so open and eager is like a balm for your soul. “So what would you think about having an extended slumber party for a while? Even after my parents are gone. Like a trial run?”

“I was planning on that anyway.” Jack admits with a grin. “The only way you are sleeping alone is if you lock the door or when I go back to the field.” He doesn’t mention that he has dreamed about how you looked on that floor several times.

“Hmmm.” The shrewd hum through your lips is just a cover so you don’t giggle in delight, and you walk up to the front door with him arm in arm. “You’re gonna have to have my thumb print added to your front door scanner.”

“Done, sugar.” Jack grins. “You did say you wanted to cook in my kitchen.”

“Got any other surprises for me while we’re at it?” He pushes inside and you follow him, letting that buoying feeling of joy float through you.

Jack bites his lip and considers not mentioning it, but he doesn’t think that would go over well. “What Champ and I were talking about…Tex is coming back. Apparently his banishment is over.”

"Oh?" It smacks your system with a hit of anxiety, knowing that the whole situation was over you and how poorly all three of you handled it. "Soon...or? Have you talked to him since he left?" Just because he hadn't reached out to you – or answered any of your texts – doesn't mean he hasn't spoken to anyone else.

“He’ll be here this weekend.” Jack tells you. “I haven’t talked to him, but I don’t know if he’s forgiven me yet. He–” Jack wipes his hands on his jeans. “He apparently found his soulmate over there. She’s an agent too. She’s coming back with ‘im.”

“Well…that’s great, isn’t it?” The door shuts behind you and you keep moving automatically, up toward the master bedroom. Though you don’t really feel like napping anymore. “Hopefully that should…it should make things easier for all of us. To be able to put what happened behind us.”

“I don’t– I’m not jealous of what happened.” Jack grunts at his own lie. “I mean, I am, but it’s because of myself. I don’t judge you for being with the boy. I practically set that up, bein’ a dumbass.”

“If you judged me for a relationship I had when I was single, we would be having a whole other conversation.” At the top of the stairs he turns left and you stick to his side without hesitation. “But like I said, that’s in the past. And whoever his soulmate is, I hope he’s head over heels and exceedingly happy.” You flash him a smile that clearly says: like I am.

“I know.” Jack grins back at you. “Just want you to know I’m not going to act like a bull during mating season. I won’t try to keep you from being friendly or anything.”

“That’s a very vivid image you paint there, babe.” You can’t help but laugh, and flop down on Jack’s enormous bed with a sigh. “Because I do want to be friends with him, and I know you two are close too. I don’t want to be the reason that that ended.”

“Nah, it’ll take more than a puny punch to the jaw for me to stop saving the fool’s ass in the field and keeping him out of trouble when we’re at home.” Jack jokes with a wink as he peels off his blazer and starts to unbutton his shirt. “You gonna get comfortable, sugar or are you gonna watch?”

“I’m not gonna deny that I like the view.” Despite raising one playful eyebrow at him, you shift on the bed to pull off your boots, socks, and jeans first.

“Mmmhm.” You yawn again and he chuckles. Your reaction to the chamber was being sleepy. It wasn’t a bad thing but it does take a few days to get back to normal, according to Ginger.

“It’s a good view.” Your bra joins the small pile of your clothes in the bedside table so you can sleep in your panties and t-shirt. “You gonna nap with me, handsome? Or just snuggle?”

“Probably just snuggle.” He admits, not that he has any problem with that. He could hold you and be perfectly rested.

“Okay.” The two of you climb under the blankets together and you sigh contentedly when he opens his arms for you to get comfortable in the circle of their security. “Snuggles are good.”

“Yes they are sugar.” Jack kisses the crown of your head and sighs, breathing you in and reminding himself that you are here. That he needs to relax and not believe that every time he looks away something bad is going to happen. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

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

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My Masterlist!

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

[cuoredimuschio]

line of apsides (how long from here to perihelion)

steddie | rated: t | AU, childhood friends, reunions, seconds chances | 30.4k (WIP) | ch 11

“It’s really changed, huh? Barely fucking recognized the place when I was driving in.” The firelight matures—from ruddy to rusty—on the curve of Eddie’s smile as he laughs, a sangria sunset cast on each crooked tooth. No more gap. He plucks a pebble from the sand, rolls it between his thumb and forefinger. “Thought I accidentally took a left turn through some kind of black hole and ended up in a different dimension.” He’s exaggerating, but he’s not. As the miles ticked up, one by one, on his rental car, Steve had tightened his grip around the rawboned steering wheel, waiting for the memories to come rushing at his head, loosed by some small anchor from his childhood that he’d completely forgotten: a now-weathered sign, an offbeat building, a peculiar tree. Anything, he feared, could break the chains and blow the floodgates wide open when he least expected it. But nothing ever did. Nothing was left. Not a trace. Eddie was here, though, more than Steve ever was. He was here as the changes began to take hold, as the spindly fingers of development carded through the streets, clawing up the brick and smoothing down crisp black asphalt, snatching up the mom-and-pop shops and leaving brand names in their place. He would’ve seen the hotels and the resorts, from the day they broke ground to the day they opened their revolving doors. He would’ve watched the endless D-Day, new faces invading the beach and planting their logoed flags in the sand, staking their claim but never staying long enough to make a difference, to leave a real mark, to forge a connection. It easily could’ve slipped past Steve, narrow as his attention always was, but there’s no such thing as unconscious acclimation when it’s your life and everything you’ve ever known being whittled away, piece by piece. But maybe that’s not what he means. A lot more things can change in nine years. Everything can change in nine years. Hell, everything can change in the span of a second. Steve knows that as well as anyone.

read the rest of the chapter on ao3!

#steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #my writing

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 12: Reunion

It's been years, but the Mandalorian would know you anywhere. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-11 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Mention of DV, mention of attempted SA. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+

Length: 5k

9 ABY - Present Day

Din managed to stay away from you for three months.

He let his work swallow him up, taking every puck offered to him. No price was too low, any job that would keep him from realizing how empty his ship was without you in it was worth doing. He kept thinking it would get easier. He hadn’t been with you all that long, after all. You’d barely been friends, not really. But you were always there, some biting comment or teasing smile or kind touch suddenly acutely absent. 

Time, he thought, would fix it. Time and hunting every bounty he could get his hands on. 

It didn’t work. 

So it was only three months before he found himself back on Dantooine, going back to the coordinates you’d given him, landing outside your family’s home before being greeted by the kind but confused face of the woman who lived there. 

She invited him in, gave him her name - Aidla - offered him a drink and food but he turned her down. 

“So,” she said, pleasantries out of the way. “Can I ask what brings you by?” 

“I was… in the area,” he said, trying find a way to ask what he wanted to ask. “I thought I would see how Liska was doing. Is she here?” 

Aidla smiled sadly, a knowing look in her eye. He was reminded of you for what had to be the 20th time that day. 

“I’m sorry but no, she’s not,” she leaned forward, putting her hand on his arm. “She’s married now, living on the other side of the planet.” 

Din froze. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears. Married. You couldn’t be married. He’d seen you just months ago - he’d touched you, felt you come apart in his arms just months ago. You’d never mentioned anyone, you couldn’t be married… 

“It was arranged,” she gave his arm a gentle pat before she sat back in her seat. “It will help her blend in. But he’s a good man, they have a home in the country. It’s a simple, quiet life but…” 

He nodded slowly. Part of him wanted to find you. He could, if he tried. It wouldn’t even take him long, he could be at your door in a day - maybe just hours if he got lucky. 

But that would be selfish. The night before the fight in Bisneth, you’d told Keci you wanted something simple, quiet. You wanted peace. What was he going to offer you? A life of hunting bail jumpers through the galaxy? A place where you’d be shot and hurt and need to resort to the skills you resented so deeply? All because he missed touching you, missed watching how your brilliant mind worked? No. He wasn’t going to take this from you. 

“She cared for you, I think,” Aidla said after a moment. She looked down at the cup of tea in her hands. “I’d never met her before you brought her here but… there’s a lot of her mother in her. I think she cared for you very deeply.” 

Din was silent, digging his fingers into his gloved palm. 

“I can tell her you came by,” she said eventually.

“Don’t,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to disrupt her life here. I just wanted to know… how she was.” 

He started visiting Aidla and her husband, Tam, every few months. Each time he was hoping you might be there, visiting, while also hoping he wouldn’t see you so he wouldn’t have to explain himself. You were never there. But she told him that you were doing well. Tam saw you every few months when he met with your husband for trading. He usually came home with a letter, which Aidla shared with Din. You wrote about walking the countryside, asked for recipes your mother used to make you as a girl, criticized recent moves by the New Republic. He could almost see your face, hear your voice as he read your words. None of it seemed to ease the ache and longing inside him. 

More than two years after he’d left you on Dantooine, he landed at Aidla’s but found the place abandoned. It was clear no one had been there in more than two months, their fields overgrown and thick layers of dust clinging to the tea set Aidla always took down when she offered him the tea that he always politely refused. 

He went see their neighbors and asked after them, but it was only bad news. Aidla and Tam had both died - a speeder accident in Dantoo Town. 

Din trudged back to the Razor Crest and sat there, staring straight ahead, until the sun set and he realized he’d just been looking into nothing. He’d grown to like Aidla and Tam, Aidla in particular. She was the last, tenuous link he had to you. Now you were really, truly gone. He seriously considered, one last time, tracking you. But he pictured you, happy in your peaceful and quiet life, and got ready to leave Dantooine for the last time.

Before he left, he went inside their home and found your letters, bringing them aboard his ship. Once he’d jumped to the next destination, he pulled off his gloves and removed his helmet, holding the pages you’d once held, reading words you’d written without a mask between you. 

It seemed you haunted him even more after that. He’d catch a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye in crowded markets, hear some reflection of you when someone near him said something equally infuriating and insightful. It was as though his loose connection with you had kept you at bay and without it, the lack of you was going to drown him. 

When he took the bounty for the child, the only reason he’d stayed in a room filled with Imps is that he thought, for a moment, the bounty would be you. If he had a reason to track you, that would be different. He’d have to find you then, protect you or at least warn you. Instead, it was the kid. 

He knew you’d have never left the child with Imperials. It made him sick that he had, even for a bit. If you’d been there, you’d have taken off with him immediately. Maker, by now, you’d have probably figured out some language to speak with him, established a clear line of communications and a deep understanding with the little guy. 

So when he and the child were lying low on Garqi, he wasn’t surprised when a Naboo blaster caught his eye as he passed a weapons resale stand. He stopped for a moment, looking at it. He remembered you pressing one just like it into his chest the day he’d left you behind. 

“How much?” He asked the man working the stand. 

“Haven’t had a chance to price it yet,” he said, hardly glancing at the weapon. “Just bought it off a girl this morning but I got a deal on it. I’ll let it go for 750.” 

“This morning?” Din asked, pulling out the credits without bothering to barter. He handed them over and the man handed him the weapon. 

“Aye,” he nodded once. “She was impatient, that one. Seemed ready to be on her way.” 

“Do you know where I could find her?” He asked. The man behind the counter frowned at him. “I just have an interest in pieces from Naboo. I’d want to buy more, if she has it.” 

“She didn’t look like she was from around here,” he shrugged after a moment, going back to cleaning a blaster. “Looked like she’d gotten into it with some folks she shouldn’t have, too, she was banged up. The cheapest beds are only a few clicks east, across from the brothel. She’d likely be there.” 

The Child cooed at Din’s hip. He gave the man a stiff nod and started off, sweeping the crowds, looking for you everywhere he passed. 

It was unlikely that it was you, he told himself. You were on Dantooine. You were married. You weren’t on your own, trying to navigate this Maker-foresaken galaxy with no one. It wouldn’t be you. So he wasn’t prepared when he caught sight of you, lugging a box outside a building and putting it with the trash. Your hair was shorter and you were thinner but it was you. 

He walked toward you like he was hypnotized. You didn’t look anywhere but the ground as you went back inside, you didn’t see him coming. When he made it in the door, the building was dim, barely clothed women strolling through the room. He frowned. What were you doing here? 

“A Mandalorian,” a woman said, slinking up and draping herself over Din’s chest. “Not often we get one of your kind.” 

“I’m looking for someone,” he said, looking down at her. “The woman who was just outside, where is she?” 

“Kelda?” She asked. Din had never heard the name, but nodded. The woman frowned. “I don’t have her working the floor, I’m sure there’s something I can interest you in…” 

“I’d like to speak with her,” he replied. She glanced around before leaning into his ear. 

“Look, I can take you to the back but I don’t want her on the floor until her face is healed,” she said. “It bothers the clients.” 

“I’ll pay,” he said, pulling out some credits. With that, she smiled, taking him by the hand and leading him through the bar. The Child shifted in the bag and Din tucked him down, covering his head with the flap. No need for him to see all this quite yet. 

The back was more brightly lit and even from behind, he recognized you. 

“Kelda,” the woman said. “Someone requested you.” 

“What?” He could hear the frown in your voice. It was such a familiar sound, even three years later. You turned to face him and froze, staring at him, your eyes wide. 

You looked different now, especially up close. Your hair was in a single braid that hung barely past your shoulders, the toned muscle from the training you’d done for years gone. Your face was almost gaunt and the remains of bruises were still there, yellowing, and there was a still healing cut on your cheek. He forced his hands to stay at his sides and not reach for you. 

“Didn’t know you knew a Mandalorian,” the woman said, looking at you with suspicion. Your eyes narrowed. 

“I don’t,” you replied, turning back to your work. “Never seen the man before in my life.” 

“Well, he paid for your time,” she shrugged. “Take care of him and then you can go.” 

You sighed but kept your back to him. The woman left and your fingers drummed the countertop in front of you. 

“So, what?” You asked, still facing the wall. You picked up something on the table and started cleaning it. “You have a thing for the help now? There’s a whole room of girls actually on the menu, you know, go bother one of them.” 

Din ignored your hostilities but kept his distance. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked 

“You’re in my sector,” you snapped. “We’re just a stone’s throw from Dantooine. What are you doing here?” 

“Why aren’t you on Dantooine?” He asked, moving closer. He couldn’t help it, you were right there. 

You flung the thing you were cleaning onto the counter, forcefully, and spun to face him. 

“I don’t know, Din,” you looked up at him, your eyes finding his immediately. A skill you hadn’t lost. The flesh around your eyes was discolored, healing. “What do you think? Take your best guess.” 

“Someone hurt you,” he said. He balled his hands into tight fists to keep from trying to touch you. 

“Good on you,” you pushed off the counter behind you, grabbing the piece you were cleaning - some bar tool, he guessed - and took it to a shelf to put it away. “Are we done here? Get your money’s worth?” 

“Can we go somewhere?” He asked, keeping his voice gentle. He still couldn’t believe that you were standing there, in front of him. Fully formed, not hints of you he imagined in every corner of the universe. “I’d like to talk with you.” 

“I’d rather not,” you replied. 

“Please,” he said. There was pleading and desperation in his voice. He didn’t care about hiding it. 

“Why do you care?” You asked, exasperated and tired. His head tilted, examining you. Did you really think he didn’t care? 

“I just do,” he said eventually. “Please. Let’s talk.” 

You crossed your arms, looking him up and down, before you sighed. 

“Fine,” you said. “There’s a cafe, four doors down from here. Tea’s decent. I’ll meet you there in an hour.” 

“Thank you,” he said, watching you. Your sharpened edges seemed softer as you looked back at him. It was like you were fighting to still hate him. 

He turned and left, making sure the kid was still tucked away in his bag, before heading to the cafe. 

There was a secluded booth in the corner and he took it, hoping it would be quiet enough that you felt free to talk. The child was getting fidgety, so he took him out of the bag and ordered him a bone broth from the waitress who was happily fawning over his long ears and large eyes. 

When the waitress got called away - after bringing two refills of bone broth - Din tucked the kid into the booth beside him, wanting to avoid drawing attention, and watched the door. You arrived sooner than he’d expected, giving the waitress a soft smile and a nod before finding his table. It was hard to stay seated. He wanted to stand up, touch you, pull you against him. Instead, you sat across from him, crossing your arms as you sat back in the booth, examining him. 

“So,” you said eventually, eyebrows raised. “I’m here. What do you want?” 

*** 

It’s not like you’d picked Garqi to be safe. You hadn’t actually picked Garqi at all, not really. It was the only place you could reach with the handful of credits you’d been able to access on your way out of your house, your husband unconscious and bleeding on the floor. You didn’t have time to pack, you just grabbed the data pad with the last of your life from Naboo - the pictures, the songs, the only things that remained of your family - your knife and the credits you could get to before stealing the speeder and running. 

No, Garqi hadn’t been a strategy. But it was so remote, you thought the chances of running into anyone you knew here was slim. You hadn’t expected to see the Mandalorian show up at the bar where you’d managed to beg your way into a job. The pay was barely enough to keep you afloat, a cheap bed at the inn across the way and a meal every other day so you could try to salt enough credits away to get a ticket to a midrim world. You needed distance between yourself and Dantooine, the sooner the better. After selling the blaster, you had almost enough to buy the credentials you’d need to get off world. But now, Din was here. 

Din, the man who’d all but haunted you for years. Every flash of metal, every modulated voice made you think of him. So did holochess boards and whiskey and the sound of blaster fire and the feeling you got when you climbed a tree to get closer to the sky. He was fucking everywhere all the damned time. Except now he was really here, looking at you from across a table. His eyes were ranging over you, you could feel them as they ran up your waist, arms, neck, face. You tried to resist the urge to hide your still healing face - bacta was definitely a luxury you couldn’t afford - and just let him look like you weren’t ashamed of it. 

“Well?” You raised your eyebrows, making your damaged skin pull uncomfortably. 

Before he had a chance to respond, a small, green hand appeared at the edge of the table. You frowned as a tiny, green creature with overwhelmingly large eyes and ears pulled itself onto the table. Din sighed. 

“Who’s this?” You asked, leaning forward, face and voice softening. The creature reached for you before toddling forward, its clawed hand outstretched. 

“Kid,” Din sighed, picking him up at the waist and pulling him into his lap. “We’re trying to have a conversation.” 

The creature cooed, looking up at Din. You cocked your head, looking at him. You’d never seen anything quite like it. When his dark eyes met yours, there was a twinge of curiosity in you. But it was… odd. The feeling wasn’t your own. It was coming from the tiny thing in the Mandalorian’s lap. 

“Oh, let him play,” Shura, the waitress, said, bringing you a cup of tea. “He’s not hurting anyone by being on the table top. Does he need more bone broth?” 

“Sure,” Din said, sighing as he set the creature on the table. It smiled at him before looking back at you, a spark of happiness reaching you this time. Shura cooed at him before leaving the table again. 

“Hi there,” you smiled at the creature, even though it still hurt your cheeks. He toddled for you, curious again, his hand out stretched. He touched your face, smiling as he explored your skin. You leaned forward and he grabbed your hair, giving it a firm tug. Satisfaction, this time. 

“OK kid,” the Mandalorian said, reaching across the table and picking him up, pulling him back into his chest. “We don’t want to hurt her.” 

“I don’t mind,” you said quickly. The creature looked back to you, cocking its little head, ears wiggling. 

“What… is it?” You asked, reaching a finger across the table. The creature reached out and took it, all three of its tiny fingers wrapping around the tip of yours. There was the foreign, outside feeling of satisfaction again when it made contact. 

“He’s a… quarry that went wrong,” Din said. “Kind of like you.” 

You laughed darkly for a moment. A quarry that went wrong. One way to describe it, you supposed. 

“I was a step down from a quarry, though,” you said. The child released your finger and looked back up at Din, the odd sensation of his feelings leaving with his gaze. How strange. You looked up at the Mandalorian. “I was just cargo that never happened, right?” 

Shura set the bone broth down in front of the creature who looked overjoyed, reaching his tiny hands forward and gripping the small cup with both hands. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked after Shura was out of earshot. 

“You already figured that one out,” you replied, taking a sip of your tea. “Regular genius that you are.” 

“You know what I’m asking, Doll.” 

You winced in spite of yourself. You hadn’t heard his name for you in so long. 

“You got new armor,” you said instead of answering. “Quite the upgrade.” 

“Answer the question.” 

“I don’t owe you a damn thing, Mando,” you said, chin defiantly titled up. 

“No,” he replied. “But I doubt you want me hunting down everyone you’ve spoken to in the last month until I find whoever hurt you so I can kill them.” 

You glared at him, taking another sip of tea before setting it down in front of you and crossing your arms across your body, as though they would protect you from him in some way. 

“And if they’re already dead?” You asked. 

“Are they?” You opened your mouth to reply but he cut you off. “You’re a good liar, Doll, but not with me. Are they still alive.” 

He was right. He saw right through you. He saw through you when you pressed the blaster to his chest, when you said you hated him, when you said it was fine that you were a warm body. The asshole always saw right through you. 

“They’re alive,” you replied. “But I handled it. He’s in worse shape than me.” 

“I doubt it.” 

“Really?” You replied. “Because I took one of his eyes, Din, and there are some things even bacta can’t fix.” 

“Anything to eat today, Kelda?” Shura came up, smiling at you. 

“No,” you smiled tightly back. “Just the tea, thanks.” 

“You know, if you want…” she began, but you cut her off. 

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “But thanks.” 

She looked at the Mandalorian, gave him and awkward smile and the kid a scratch on the end of his ear and left again. 

“Why didn’t you kill him?” He asked after a moment. You sighed. 

“Seems like I’ve killed enough for one lifetime,” you said, staring down at the table. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it again. Not this time.” 

He was silent for a moment. 

“Where was your husband?” He asked quietly. 

You were about to answer, an automatic reply, when you realized it. 

“How did you know I’m married?” You asked, fingers digging into your arms, worried you might try to punch him if you weren’t holding onto something. You’d never have been able to beat him on strength but you were well trained. There was a time where you thought you could have held your own against the Mandalorian. That was no longer the case. “Have you been tracking me? Stalking me?” 

“No.” 

The baby on his lap cooed, holding up his empty cup and waving it at him. Din took it and set it on the table, out of the child’s reach. The creature pouted, a feeling of disappointment coming from him when his oversized eyes found yours. You looked back up at the Mandalorian. 

“Then how,” you had to speak through gritted teeth. 

“I checked up on you once or twice,” he said. You could feel that his eyes weren’t meeting yours. “When I was in the region, I stopped to see Aidla and Tam. She told me you were married.” 

“That’s a lie,” you snapped. “She would have told me…” 

“I asked her not to,” he replied. “I didn’t want to disrupt your life. You were married, you had peace and quiet. It’s what you wanted.” 

“So why did you come back?” You demanded. “You didn’t want to disrupt my life, why come see me at all?” 

“I tried not to,” he said quietly. 

“Why?” 

He was silent again for a moment. 

“Where was your husband?” 

You stared him down from across the table, waiting for him to put it together. You knew he would. He stiffened. 

“How long.” It was a growl and not really a question. 

“He waited a while,” you shrugged. “Made it so I had no other options.” 

“How. Long.” 

You sighed. 

“It lasted about six months,” you replied. “It was never great but it was fine, for a while, even though I wasn’t… well, I wasn’t good at giving him what he wanted. But he ran out of patience with me after Aidla and Tam died about nine months back. They were the only contacts I had, we lived in the middle of nowhere so I had no friends. I couldn’t access the speeder. My parents died before you even left me on Dantooine, not that I would have risked asking them for help…” 

You sighed, looking at the wall next to you. You couldn’t believe you were doing this again, telling this damned man everything you hated about yourself. 

“Anyway,” you sighed. “I can take a lot and I did a decent enough job holding him off considering I hadn’t kept my skills up in years. But a few weeks ago, he was drunk, got upset that I’d refused my ‘wifely duties’ for a bit too long, tried to take what he wanted. So, I took his eye. And his ear.” 

“You left him alive.” He was seething. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. You met his eyes, almost pleading with him to understand. “I just… I couldn’t do it. It’s not that I ever loved him but… I needed to not be the thing that killed him. Even if he deserved it.” 

“Is he still on Dantooine?” Din’s hand was on the table, fist clenched tight. The kid looked concerned. You titled your head, seeing if he’d meet your eyes so you could confirm it. He did, the worry tinged by confusion. 

“Don’t be afraid little guy,” you said, smiling softly at him. “Everything’s alright.” 

The Mandalorian looked down at him and back to you. 

“Sorry,” you said, looking up at Din. “He’s not looking at you so you probably can’t feel it but he’s a little freaked out…” 

“What do you mean ‘can’t feel it?’” 

“Oh,” you frowned, looking back to the creature who was looking up at the Mandalorian. “Do you not feel it?” 

“Feel what?” 

“When he looks me in the eye, I can feel some of what he does,” you said. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d have realized that by now, I figured it was just part of… whatever species he is.” 

Din was quiet for a moment before he picked the baby up, turned him around and lifted him in front of his face, so their eyes would be level. The Child cooed happily. 

“Any luck?” You asked after a moment. He just shook his head. You shrugged. “Probably can’t make it through your thick helmet.” 

The Mandalorian grunted and put the kid on the bench beside him, pulling a metal ball out of the bag at his side and handing it to him. He took it happily. Din turned his attention back to you. 

“Where’s your husband now.” 

“Why?” You asked. “He’s not hurting me anymore, that’s all that matters.” 

“No,” he replied. “Tell me where he is, Doll, or…” 

“Or what?” You asked. “You’ll forget I ever happened? I was cargo, Mando. You did your job, it’s done. It’s been done for years.” 

“I will hunt him,” he said, his voice hard. “If you tell me, it will be easier but I don’t need you to. I can track him without you and I will make him pay.” 

“I don’t want you to,” you said, jaw tense. “I don’t want your help, I don’t want to owe you a damn thing. I want you to leave me alone.” 

“What are your plans from here?” He asked. “Do you plan on working at that… place forever?” 

“Only until I save up enough credits to catch a transport out of here,” you shrugged. “Figured if I can make it to midrim, I can find work as a translator or something. I just need identification for whoever I’m going to be next and the ticket off this planet and then I’m set. It should only take me a few more months, I can lay low the long.” 

“And if he comes looking for you?” He asked. “You sold your blaster.” 

You frowned, eyebrows knitting together. 

“How did you know that?” 

He pulled the weapon out from a pouch on his leg setting it on the table between you. You picked it up, holding it with reverence. 

“Bought it off a weapons trader earlier,” he said. “It’s how I found you, said he bought it off a girl this morning, one who was in trouble. I thought it might have been you. It was a long shot but I had to check…” 

“What’d you pay for it?” You asked, turning it over in your hands. You’d only sold it hours before but you’d resigned yourself to never seeing it again. It seemed miraculous that you had it now. 

“Just 750 credits,” Din replied. You laughed dryly. 

“You got a deal,” you said, setting it down in the middle of the table. “Thought that guy had half a brain, figured he’d get it without me pointing it out. The royal seal at the base of the handle increases its value. You could turn it around and sell it for 2,000 on Coruscant. But his loss is your gain.” 

“Keep it,” he said. “Absolutely not,” you shook your head firmly. 

“Doll…” 

“I mean it,” you replied. “I’m not going to owe you. I can’t owe you.” 

“And I’m not going to leave you here, defenseless, when someone nearly beat you to death,” he snapped. 

“Mando,” you sighed but he leaned across the table, fists clenched. 

“If you won’t take the blaster, I’ll give you two choices,” he said. 

“Fine. What are they?” 

“Choice one, you come with me and I take you wherever you want to go,” he replied. You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off. “I could use some help protecting the kid and picking up odd jobs. I’ll let you work your way through so you don’t owe me. Choice two, you stay here and I hunt your husband so I can kill him.” 

“That is not fair,” you fought to keep from yelling at him. “You can’t back me into a corner like that!” 

“You forced my hand,” he shrugged. “If you won’t keep yourself safe, you haven’t left me another option.” 

“Is this fun for you?” You snapped. “Do you enjoy this?” 

“Enjoy seeing you hurting?” He replied, his voice oddly calm. “No.” 

He watched you, unflinching from across the table. You wondered, for a moment, if you could run. You weren’t especially strong at the moment and you didn’t have much in the way of credits. You could maybe get to the other side of the planet, but with no real identification, it would take a while before you found work again and you’d be stuck. And Din was Din. He’d find you before you made it off world. 

“Fine,” you hissed. “I’ll come with you.” 

“Good,” he said. 

“Tomorrow,” you said. “I have some things to finish up here.” 

“Fine,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, space port.” 

“Still in the Razor Crest?” He just gave you a stiff nod. “I’ll find you.” 

“If you don’t, I’ll find you.” 

You believed him.

A/N: Some info about where we're coming into the Mandoverse now that the fic and the show timelines will collide!

This is now 3 years after the first 11 chapters of this fic, set post Season 1 of the Mandalorian (the fight against Gideon has happened.) From here out, this will drastically diverge from canon (while hopefully maintaining characterization from the show for non-OC.)

#fanfic #enemies to friends to lovers #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #slow burn #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader

[mofffun]

«Rita of Gokkan» Ch.23

eng translation by me

ch: [tag] [2-3] [4-6] [7-9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22]

timeline: ep5

Rita relives a memory as they watches the kings march into battle

t/n:

p6: dictionary definition for 今のまま is "the way things are now".

While Karras is referring to Rita failing the standard, I wonder what was the international relations in her time like? Is she also speaking of her generation about making the kings put down their difference and work with each other? Or are the kingdoms just vaguely bound by the prophecy?

p11: 私にもできたよ lit. Even [someone like me] did it.

I always talk about how Rita actually values the team a lot, they wants to be part of the team. At this point in time (ep5), they still didn't know why Karras decided they were ready. But step by step, they become the king Karras wanted, the king Karras taught. The kingdoms uniting is no longer a slogan, it became the Ohsama Sentai, something that Rita themself was a part of and not because of some treaty based on a prophecy from 2000 years ago. But the Ohsama Sentai that protects before conquer. I had a lot of feelings when this issue is released along ep47 with Rita taking the commander role. Now more so with ep49's reunion.

ch23:

script: p1 p2 ハ　ハ　ハ　ハ！！ 俺の穴から地獄に案内してやらァ！ 「ゴ　ゴ　ゴ」 p3 「コッ」 p4 １６年前 キン はぁ　はぁ ガッ ゴォ p5 ぐるん スカッ べしっ ギャ う　ううっ… どうした　リタ そんなんじゃバグナラクには勝てない p6 まだ１５年以上先の話でしょ… そう　１５年しかない… １５年じゃ足りない 今のままバグナラクが蘇ったら 人類は滅びる p7 ２０００年前の王たちがそうしたように それぞれの国が一つになって協力する必要がある それぞれの国の王の立場や環境がどうあろうと 司法によって国をつなぐ その仕事は絶対中立のゴッカンにしかできないことなの p8 「ジャラ」 ゴッカンの使命…… 五王国同盟は 世界を脅かす敵が到来した時に備え 国境を超え　利害を排除し　国同士一丸となって 敵を打ち倒すために制定するものである p9 「スッ」 戦え　拒否権はない お前たちもだ 「ガタガタ」 「ピン」 …俺様が捻り潰す！ 「バッ」 p10 王鎧武装 ザッ p11 —カーラス 私にもできたよ—

#kingohger #rita of gokkan #rita kaniska #karras de haan

[butterflydm]

wot reread: a memory of light (ch 11-16)

spoilers through the final book, a memory of light

Yeah, I am falling solidly on the side of hoping that the show makes one of the Green Ajah Sisters in Salidar the general/captain for Egwene's forces. It would just feel so much better than it being Bryne. Thoughts brought to you by this scene between Egwene & Adelorna.

2. Remember how I've said that I would try to restrain my Mat plotline-related thoughts until we actually had a Mat PoV? Okay, I didn't quite manage that but we've finally arrived to one!

Our first Mat PoV in AMoL begins with Mat just outside Ebou Dar, which is... an odd choice.

What opening in Ebou Dar means is that Mat’s big ‘moment of decision’ when he abandons his friends, the Band of the Red Hand, Olver, and the Last Battle itself to go chasing after his slaver bride... happens off-screen. I wonder if Sanderson tried to write it, couldn’t make it believable, so decided to make it past-tense so that he could just pretend there was a way for it to make sense and not actually have to deal with justifying it ‘on page’. Because Mat is a deserter from the Last Battle at this point. And it happened off the page. He was still planning to go back to Caemlyn at the end of ToM, so what on earth happened? The actual moment of Mat making the choice that will define his behavior for the entire rest of this book (and thus the ending of his character as a whole) happened off-screen.

Stop having important emotional moments happen off-screen! This is the worst one yet!

It’s so weird, because this was not really a problem in the first two books that Sanderson co-wrote but, in AMoL, so many important character moments are being left on the cutting room floor (or were never written at all, I guess; can’t know for sure either way for most of them). Like, this happened a time or two in ToM (Elayne and Gawyn not getting a proper reunion) but nowhere near as much as has been happening in AMoL.

2. ...also, how did Mat get to Ebou Dar? Grady was already in Merrilor (went there with Perrin at the end of ToM) and that's where he was making Gateways from; and so Mat would have needed to come to Merrilor to collect Pips, because he left his horse with Perrin's people (they walked through the Gateway to the Tower of Ghenjei). I can’t imagine that Jur Grady would be willing to send Mat down into Ebou Dar when they are on the eve of the Last Battle and everyone knows that the Seanchan are in charge of Ebou Dar and Grady explicitly disapproves of slavery and the Seanchan. Jur Grady is not going to help one of the Lord Dragon’s generals defect to the Seanchan (and, whether or not Mat chooses to see it that way... defecting to the Seanchan is what he's done, given that the Seanchan are still Rand's enemy at this point). And Moiraine has been trapped in amber since before Egwene rediscovered Traveling, so Moiraine couldn’t have done it for him.

Plus, the timelines were pretty tight, and Moiraine and Thom arrive at Merrilor AFTER the assault on Caemlyn happened so... how did Mat miss that, when we know that he was planning to return to Caemlyn before doing anything else? And we know that he doesn’t return to Caemlyn to take care of business BEFORE the attack on the city and THEN leave for Ebou Dar, because Olver and Talmanes are impatiently waiting for his return in the epilogue of ToM, which is when the attack happens.

So Mat has, apparently, developed teleportation skills? Ebou Dar is not physically close to the Tower of Ghenjei or to Merrilor. Did Sanderson originally write Mat as being at Merrilor with Moiraine but then abruptly changed his mind midway through the writing process (perhaps moving Mat’s post-reunion scenes with Rand over to Perrin as a result?), maybe because he realized that Mat & Fortuona still needed to, ah, consummate their marriage, and then he never got around to the logistics of how a non-channeler managed to travel the distance of several weeks overnight? Narratively, emotionally, and geographically, it makes no sense that Mat is in Ebou Dar. Mat can’t Travel.

Has anyone ever asked Sanderson about this? I did a quick search online but haven’t found anyone else questioning how weird this is. The closest I've come to finding anything like that was finding a pre-release post where people were speculating on an early released teaser version of chapter 11 and pretty much everyone in that thread did assume that Mat was in Ebou Dar after going to Merrilor with Moiraine first, because... yeah, that's what makes sense. It's really baffling that it didn't happen.

Unless I missed a throwaway sentence somewhere, there is just straight-up no explanation anywhere in this chapter about how Mat got to Ebou Dar so quickly.

3. I am having vivid memories of how jarring reading CoT!Mat was after having spent time with WH!Mat, going from someone who freed slaves to someone who enabled slavers. When I was wondering if AMoL!Mat would get the CoT!Mat treatment, I still expected there to be some kind of transition scene. This is wild.

I mean... maybe the narrative is going to... explain all this somehow? Maybe we’ll get a flashback? But right now, I am full of questions marks before I even get to the actual content of the chapter.

Anyway, we are pretty clearly now doing Mat from CoT & KoD, so I will adjust my Mat expectations accordingly: Mat will likely have dampened empathy, not be as intelligent as he normally is, and coddle Fortuona like she’s a hangry toddler constantly on the verge of a tantrum (well, he's not really wrong about her in that regard, tbh; she's basically that kid from that Twilight Zone episode where everyone walks around on eggshells around an extremely powerful and temperamental child because he can destroy them with a thought).

4. Hmm. The weird thing. Okay, one of the MANY weird things is that in TGS and ToM, it felt like Sanderson was working really hard to reconcile what Mat needed to do in the plot with the characterization that we’d been left with from CoT & KoD plus Mat’s original characterization pre-CoT. He didn’t always hit it on the head but mostly, while Mat could be frustrating at times, it was usually in ways that were inherited from Jordan. This chapter is just... out of nowhere. Who is this guy? What the hell happened?

I’m almost more confused than I am offended because almost everything in this section felt like it just... appeared from the ether with no logic behind it. I don’t even know how to react to the content of the chapter because it was just... completely nonsensical.

Like, Mat goes back to Ebou Dar, which he has decided feels like... home? Because of all fond memories he has of being sexually assaulted and how much he misses the duels that he put a lot of effort into avoiding when he was actually there last time? Okay. Apparently, that’s a thing for this version of Mat.

But once he’s there, he doesn’t actually go to find ~his wife~ until he finds out that she has people who potentially want to kill her. So he rushes to Ebou Dar (abandoning his friends, his semi-adopted child, and the fate of the world) but then proceeds to bum around in a tavern for a few hours, so he wasn’t really in that much of a hurry to see Fortuona until her life was potentially being threatened, so... eh? Was this supposed to convince me that he loves her?

I mean, he doesn’t want her to die, but if that counts as love, then I guess he was also desperately in love with Renna the sul’dam, since he was so upset over HER death back in KoD. Canonically, Mat (like all the Two Rivers' boys) has issues with women getting killed, so literally any threat to any woman’s life seems like it would motivate him here. I’m just... this whole section is so bizarre. Sanderson just... didn’t bother to explain why Mat didn’t go back to Caemlyn or how he got here. 

5. You know, for all this time, my memory has said “oh Mat ran back to Ebou Dar to save Tuon’s life from assassins” (and I’ve been trying to work out when that happened and who could have possibly sent along that rumor, given where Mat was located at the end of ToM) and I was annoyed that Sanderson had decided to have Mat prioritize his slaver wife over the end of the world, but was ready to roll my eyes at it, call him Perrin 2.0, and then move on.

But Mat doesn’t even suspect assassins might be after Fortuona until he realizes that someone in this Ebou Dari tavern suspects that HE might be an assassin (even though “other Seanchan are sending assassins after Tuon” was literally a thing in KoD too -- lots of people hate your wife, Mat. Get used to it). So Mat deserted from the Last Battle for... no reason at all? Talmanes almost died because of Mat’s failures and Mat didn’t even have a reason to walk away from him and the Band and Olver?

6. When we left off in ToM, Mat was planning to go back to Caemlyn. Instead, he’s managed to teleport to Ebou Dar (with his horse) and completely change his motivations and none of it happened on the page. He doesn’t give a single thought to Rand or Elayne or Talmanes or Olver during this entire section. He thinks about his eye without ever thinking about how it got injured (because if he thinks about Moiraine, then Sanderson might have to explain how Mat separated from Moiraine & Thom).

Instead, the narration just acts like it makes sense for Mat to be in Ebou Dar even though it completely contradicts his last PoV chapter. We also get zero sense here of how long it's been since Mat's final scene in ToM -- he notes that his eye is missing, but he doesn't seem to be in pain. That seems unlikely, given both the initial physical trauma involved in the injury and also that Mat did nothing to care for the injury after it happened.

I’m just... no wonder my brain made shit up to make this make sense! This makes no sense! What on earth happened between the writing of TGS/ToM and the writing of AMoL to make Mat’s plotline change so abruptly? This is so bizarre! Why was so much more effort and page time put into showing us Galad's choices than have been put into Mat's? Why did we waste time on Slayer in the prologue but didn't bother explaining why Mat completely flipped his life upside down for no apparent reason?

7. I mean, on the plus side, that makes it extremely easy for fic writers (or the show adaptators) to rewrite or retcon, because Sanderson did not even bother to give Mat a reason to do any of this. Talmanes thinks so fondly of Mat during the prologue and Mat abandoned him! He abandoned the Band of the Red Hand right before the Last Battle! And the decision to do it wasn’t even on the page! Holy shit, what the fuck! the entire conceit of Mat’s character is “protests the idea of doing the right thing but then does the right thing anyway” and now he’s a deserter right before the end of the world.

and the worst part is that this fraction of his plotline ends up completely outweighing everything else he’s ever done when it comes to his ~fandom reputation~. He’s the unreliable one (despite always keeping his word and being incredibly reliable in earlier books); he’s the Bad Friend (despite clearly being a much closer friend to Rand than Perrin was in earlier books); he’s the one without a moral code who is willing to throw away hundreds of commoners/slaves for the sake of a single ~noble~ life (*cough* Perrin in Malden *cough*).

It is just so so ridiculous that after books and books of Mat accepting and knowing that he needs to be with Rand for the Last Battle and actively driving towards that goal (including in all of TGS & ToM!), that he fucked off at the last minute to hang out in slaver-town for shits and giggles?

8. I'm sorry, I can't let this go: he was planning to return to Caemlyn at the end of ToM!

Literally, here is the quote: “You find [Rand], Moiraine, but I’ve got things to do in Caemlyn. Don’t mean to argue and all, but that’s the fact of it. You should come there too. Elayne’s more likely than anyone else to be able to help you with Rand.”

Not long after that, this appears in Mat's internal narration: "[Mat] decided to make himself scarce, leaving [Moiraine and Thom] alone. He went to scout the area where their gateway was supposed to appear. It had better. They had no supplies, and Mat did not fancy flagging down a ship and riding the long way back to Caemlyn."

Clearly, the original plan was to have Mat return to Caemlyn* or at least to attempt to do so. And then the plan abruptly changed behind the scenes and we’re left with... this weird mess of a scene here in Ebou Dar that just feels utterly detached from reality.

(* as it is, it does seem likely that Mat will never even learn that he could have prevented Caemlyn from being attacked, might never even find out that Caemlyn was attacked at all. Which means that, in order to 'become' Seanchan, Mat has acquired one of the most annoying traits that Jordan gave to the Seanchan (especially Fortuona) -- a complete lack of narrative accountability for their choices and behaviors, and other people and the narrative itself not holding them to account for failures and choices that anyone else would be held to account for. Narratively, Mat should face the consequences of his decision not to read Verin's letter and to abandon the field before the Last Battle but... Fortuona is always coddled and sheltered from getting the natural narrative consequences for being an asshole, and now, perhaps, so is Mat)

9. Question - which is a messier and worse choice for the writer to make: Jordan abruptly turning down the dial on how much Mat cared about slavery in-between WH and CoT (presumably so that it would be believable that he would court & kiss an unrepentant slaver), or Sanderson abruptly having Mat desert right before the Last Battle, abandoning the Band of the Red Hand and Olver in the process?

I mean, they’re both awful, so I don’t know if I can pick, personally. Also, why is it always Mat who has the best parts of himself carved away while the narrative tries to pretend that nothing has changed?

This is now the fourth time that Mat has been harshly pulled away from his natural narrative progression, btw. The first two changes happen due to events in the story and so I find them... somewhat forgivable... but the last two involve ripping out actual parts of Mat’s characterization between books, and I’m much less forgiving of that.

In LoC, Mat stops being Rand’s general when Rand tells him to go to Salidar to help Elayne get to Caemlyn. Understandable story beat. No issue with this one except that it made me miss Mat & Rand’s interactions.

In ACoS, Mat is unable to go with Elayne to Caemlyn, instead being trapped in Ebou Dar. While I find the actual ‘getting trapped’ in Ebou Dar to be understandable plot nonsense, I do not find the contrivances to keep Rand from knowing that Mat has been left behind to be believable (but, of course, if Rand were allowed to know that Mat was in Ebou Dar, he would have saved Mat before ‘prophecy’ could have had its way with him). The creaky Hand of the Author is very apparent in this storyline.

In WH, Mat frees slaves, and pretty much everything in that book sets up Tuon’s circus journey to be a transformative experience for her (I went over this in detail in one of my last reread posts about WH, because it honestly blew my mind how many threads that WH laid out that CoT completely failed to follow up on)... but then in-between WH & CoT, Mat’s empathy is swapped so that instead of sympathizing with the former slaves (the Aes Sedai) as he did in WH, he instead sympathizes with the former and current slavers (the sul’dam and Tuon). We are not given any reason on the page for why Mat's sympathies have been swapped around.

In the last chapter of ToM, Mat plans to return to Caemlyn; in AMoL, he is abruptly in Ebou Dar, hundreds of miles to the south, a deserter from the Last Battle and a defector to the Seanchan. We do not see the moment when he decided to abandon Team Light and the Band.

Of course, every single one of these narrative swerves was in the service of pushing Mat into the arms of the Seanchan -- first physically, and then mentally. It’s telling how much force had to be applied to Mat to lock him into the role of being Fortuona’s Prince of Ravens. Left to his own natural narrative devices, Mat appears to have flowed back towards the Last Battle and towards Rand. On four different occasions, he has to be forcibly yanked towards his ‘destined’ role.

10. This PoV leaves me with two big questions:

Why is Mat in Ebou Dar?

How is Mat in Ebou Dar?

No, seriously, check out the map:

Make it make sense how Mat rode from the Tower of Ghenjei, all the way down to Ebou Dar, in the same amount of time that it took Moiraine and Thom to Travel to meet with Rand in Merrilor (which is instantaneous). Now, if this were Rand or Elayne or Aviendha or... you know, any other strong channeler who knew how to Travel... no big deal! Pop down to Ebou Dar and then back by lunchtime. But Mat is on a horse.

11. Most importantly, why wasn’t Mat changing his mind about the entire course of his life actually on the page? How on earth could us learning about Androl's twenty different past careers be more important than us actually getting Mat's change of heart on the page?

This chapter is like a weird fever dream about Mat, where distances don’t matter and characterizations change at the drop of a hat.

This would all make so much more sense if Mat actually did go to Merrilor and volunteered to go speak to Fortuona on behalf of the Westlands -- then someone sending him here by Gateway would make a lot of sense and it wouldn't matter that Mat traveled hundreds of miles in an instant because, well, Traveling will do that. As it is... the why and the how of Mat going to Ebou Dar are both left as complete mysteries.

12. It kinda feels like Sanderson skipped forward in Mat's storyline specifically so that he wouldn't have to explain how ToM!Mat changed into AMoL!Mat, two characterizations of Mat who appear to have very different motivations and loyalties. ToM's Mat had a very complicated relationship in the text with Fortuona -- he felt an obligation to protect her Because Wife, but also was very clearly trying to shear off "Tuon" from "the Seanchan" in his brain, and he was wildly (almost on overdrive) attracted to other women; yet he was also incredibly dedicated to his friends and to the Last Battle. ToM!Mat was a very complicated character, with a lot of contradictory thoughts and impulses to dig into and analyze. This Mat feels much less emotionally complex, at least so far, and we don't get any of the shadings of his torn loyalties between Prophecy Wife and everything else that he cares about -- he's just been cut off from his past life entirely, with very little signs of remorse or regret or grief over it. That's a huge change from where he was at the end of ToM!

The best comparison I can think of is if Sanderson had decided to leave Rand's epiphany off the page at the end of TGS -- if the last we saw of Rand in TGS was him leaving after almost killing his dad, and then the next we saw of him was in the ToM "Apples" chapter where he's making grass grow around him, completely skipping over the scene on Dragonmount (and never even referencing it; just acting like it makes sense that Rand is zen!Rand now and not ruthless!Rand anymore). That's what feels like happened with Mat -- he experienced a near-reversal of his established characterization and motivations off-screen between the books.

13. Though that's kinda the issue with Mat's "corruption arc" in general (if you want to call it that; it doesn't really have enough substance to it to deserve the name imo) -- we never actually see him change on-screen; he just conveniently changes his feelings about slavery between WH & CoT so that he'll be willing to kiss Fortuona even though she remains an unrepentant slaver; and then he conveniently changes his motivations between ToM & AMoL so that his next destination is Ebou Dar instead of Caemlyn/Merrilor. The moment of decision doesn't happen on the page. I have enjoyed and watched many corruption arcs but... it's gotta actually happen on the page, not in between books.

Um. Yeah. Will the next Mat PoV section be just as confusing as this one? Or will we get an explanation of some kind? I guess I will... find out?

14. Side note: the Tuatha'an have utterly screwed themselves over as a people for the foreseeable future. Literally walked themselves into the lion's mouth. Any teenager shows the spark? Damane. Grow up a little too pretty? Da'covale. But I guess they may consider feeding their children into the machinery of the empire to be a ~worthwhile price~ for them to pay in order to not personally engage in violence, even though said empire definitely does engage in massive amounts of violence (and will do so even under any kind of peace treaty that might be signed because: slavery is violence). This is not a Sanderson thing, though, because Jordan is the one who decided that the Tuatha'an culture of pacifism was aligned with slavery and invasion, back in Knife of Dreams, when he had the Tuatha'an flock to Altara.

15. Any other thoughts on this section before I move on to the next PoV? Ah, I guess I should actually engage with the content of the chapter, lol. I'll do my best.

It is kinda funny, in a ??? way, how Mat goes "yeah, wasn't Tylin Good Times?", "Oh, I hope that I get lots of women... just like her", "haha, oh no, Tuon is Just Like Her", "Um, maybe only one more of them is okay after all". It's bizarre and illogical and completely detached from reality but somewhat funny, in a "please stop talking yourself into a toxic situation" kind of way.

The main problem is that Mat doesn't have any given narrative reason to be here, talking himself into wanting to spend time with the slavers & with the empress slaver. If Mat had an external reason to be here -- or even an internal one that had been articulated in some way in the text -- then this entire PoV would have some kind of grounding in narrative reality. As it is, just like with refusing to get his eye injury treated, it feels like Mat is punishing himself for no reason (and punishing readers, or at least me, along with him).

16. "The Ebou Dari won't riot at something as unimportant as being conquered."

...

...

...

????????????????????

God, the whitewashing of the Seanchan invasion is such a bizarre thing to witness. Your city being invaded and terrorized is no big deal, apparently! The Wise Women (who were their healers & local herbalists) completely vanishing from the city... no big deal! Not important, y'all!

It's been maybe four months* (maximum) since Ebou Dar was invaded, but I guess everyone is over that now? Setalle Anan was making a big deal out of nothing when she decided she wanted to leave the city, I guess.

(* Mat was healing from his injuries taken by the invasion for roughly a month; then I believe that the circus was on the road for... like a month?; and then it would have taken a month or so for Fortuona to be escorted back to Ebou Dar; plus whatever Mat's travel time was to get back to Ebou Dar -- apparently we're supposed to believe that it's been at least six months, per Elayne's pregnancy symptoms but... where is that extra time coming from? Was Mat trapped in the circus plot for three whole months? (which would mean that Rand was chilling in a mansion in Tear doing nothing but having sex with Min and talking to Loial about his book for those same three months, which is recklessly negligent of him, if I'm supposed to believe it) I find that really hard to believe)

17. Hmm. If we take into account that Sanderson was trying to keep in mind that "what Mat thinks and says doesn't always reflect how he genuinely feels" (something Sanderson mentions knowing was a key part of Mat's characterization in his retrospective) then I expect we're supposed to take all his weird mental blather about how ~great!~ Ebou Dar was and how ~fun times!~ his rapist Tylin was with more than a few grains of salt.

But I really am thrown by how it makes no sense for Mat to be here in this context. Mat not being able to channel is a pretty significant part of his characterization, and it's also a limiting factor that means that he cannot travel hundreds of miles in a single day without significant help from someone who (a) can channel fairly strongly, (b) knows the Traveling weave, and (c) is inclined to help Mat get to where he's going.

So, let's do a little reworking before we move on. What if Mat had actually followed the path that was set out for him at the end of ToM?

His plan was to go to Caemlyn, but he was waiting for Grady's gateway in order to leave the Tower of Ghenjei area at all, which means that he would go with Moiraine and Thom to Merrilor (because that's where Grady is). Once at Merrilor, upon requesting to be sent to Caemlyn, he would learn that Caemlyn was attacked, that Talmanes nearly died (and that Olver is missing? idk, the text has said nothing about Olver's location as of this point in the story). But then he goes to the big meeting and learns how precarious things are with the Seanchan. So, Mat is on the horns of a dilemma, where he has two obligations (his failure in Caemlyn vs his failure with Fortuona) and no way he can fulfill both obligations at the same time. He has to choose.

He chooses to go to Ebou Dar, which is tactically the better choice. This does take him out of the running for leading the armies at this time (so Elayne would still be doing that) but Mat is the only person who can meet with Fortuona as something other than an enemy. He is gateway'd in to just outside the city and then we pick up with this chapter here. Most of this chapter could even stay roughly the same -- Mat trying to get the feel of the city before he goes in to talk with Fortuona, and then him finding out she potentially has assassins after her jumpstarting him into high gear.

If that were the case, then Mat's brain-breaking justifications for why Ebou Dar is just ~the greatest~ and Tylin was just ~the best~ and so Tuon will just be an extension of the ~awesome times~ that Mat had in Ebou Dar with Tylin and how the Seanchan's culture of slavery definitely isn't any more extreme than any of the other cultures he knows!... all of that [footage not found] stuff that Mat is claiming is true would come across much better as Mat frantically trying to make himself feel less panicked over his worries about Fortuona enslaving him as da'covale, a fear that has been haunting him for books. Especially if Mat presents himself as very confident about his ability to win Fortuona over, and then we see in his internal narration that he has no clue how she feels about him and wonders if his task is even possible.

This would also solve two other weird situations -- it would have given Mat and Min a chance to meet (while Mat is in his right mind and not dagger-addled) which would also have given Min something to do while Rand was spending all time with Elayne and Aviendha instead of Min just being a silent lurking presence in this section of the book; and it would explain why Rand still hasn't gone to visit the Seanchan.

Because that was Rand's plan after the big meeting but it's been at least two or three days in Rand's timeline and we still haven't done it (per Perrin's narration, Mat is already in Ebou Dar after the meeting that he and Elayne have with the generals, which is immediately after the pavilion meeting; makes zero sense but that's what the narrative tells us happened). But if Mat was sent on purpose to try to win Fortuona over to a reasonable truce, then it would make sense for Rand to give him some space and time to do that. Instead, Rand just... hangs out and does nothing for a couple of days while everyone else fights?

And the thing is... it would not significantly increase the page time to do things this way. That's the most baffling part. Give Mat & Min maybe one scene to show that they're bonding. Give those Perrin & Rand scenes that felt out of place to Mat & Rand. And the rest of the Mat-related stuff can be somewhat in the background, with chapter 11 still being his first PoV chapter if you like. It would add maybe five pages to the early parts of the book, which could easily be found by cutting down some of the Androl & Pevara scenes.

So clearly this was an active choice by Sanderson & Team Jordan but... why? Was it just too difficult for them to believe that Mat would condemn himself to marriage with Fortuona if we actually saw the moment when he decided to go to her? Was it to add to the feeling that Mat's story is unfinished by withholding the conclusions of Mat's character arcs from him? Was it a case of 'writing to the epilogue', even if that meant ignoring what had previously been established at the end of ToM?

I'm assuming that they assumed that the chaos of the Last Battle would mean that no one would ever question the logistics of this and that does seem mostly true -- I certainly didn't catch it on my first read of this book (pretty sure I was too busy hating that Mat was in Ebou Dar at all to question how Mat was in Ebou Dar).

18. Speaking of Rand! Let's find out what he has been doing the last couple of days instead of going to try to make a peace treaty with the Seanchan.

Moiraine is also wondering why Rand is just standing around, doing nothing. Hey, you know what's really weird, Moiraine? That you and Rand aren't talking about whatever happened that made Mat change his mind from going to Caemlyn to instead decide to go to Ebou Dar (and how he got there so quickly). Mat saved you from the 'finn! Mat was the whole reason that you got out! And then he just straight-up deserted from the Last Battle. This isn't worth a conversation or two with Rand? It's so bizarre that absolutely no one is talking to Moiraine (or Thom?) about Mat, especially Perrin, who knows that Mat specifically went off to save Moiraine (with Thom and with another guy who Perrin certainly doesn't care about, or care to notice also didn't return).

It also feels bizarre that Perrin was content to just go "oh, I guess Mat decided to sit out the Last Battle, la-di-da" when he got that Ebou Dar vision in his head, because there's absolutely no hint or indication that he even considered asking Moiraine or Thom what made Mat decide to desert the armies right before the Last Battle. At least Rand has no clue that Mat went off on a secret mission to save Moiraine, so he doesn't have any idea that he should ask Moiraine or Thom anything. Perrin does know but just doesn't feel like sharing any of that information with anyone, either because he likes Knowing Secrets or because he is a useless person.

Also, Rand is now in Shienar, hanging out with Lan's section of the army, so Perrin is, uh, doing a great job of sticking by his side, lol, all the way over in Caemlyn as he is.

19. Haha, Rand thinks here that he'd forgotten how annoying Moiraine could be. That does kinda feel like it touches on an (unintentional, maybe) theme of making saints out of the dead -- we had sainted dead Fortuona in Aviendha's future vision (a "woman of honor"), we have Mat making a saint out of dead Tylin (good ol' Fun Times Tylin), and we have Rand realizing that he'd forgotten all the parts of Moiraine that actually kinda rubbed him the wrong way, because he made a saint out of her once she was 'dead'. Again, I don't know if that's an intentional theme, but I do find it interesting.

20. The distance between Lan and Moiraine here is sad but understandable. Moiraine did the best she could to burn that relationship down before she went into the doorway (and right after, by giving away his bond to someone else, someone who took advantage of the bond and abused him). Lan still respects her -- he tells Rand that it's wise to listen to her -- but it'll be a long long time before he can bring himself to trust her emotionally again, if he ever manages it.

21. One little thing that Rand did was have his smiths make crowns for Lan and Nynaeve, based on old drawings of the Malkieri royalty. Aww. So that's another extremely sentimental gift that Rand has handed out, drawing on his personal knowledge of the person(s) in question.

22. *gasp* Rand went back to Dumai's Wells to search out the little fat man angreal. Ah! Emotions! So he uses that angreal here, as he fights on behalf of Lan's section of the army to take out the enemy's channelers. I'm also glad that he's not literally standing around doing nothing, lol.

And we do see in this chapter that all of Rand's emotions from pre-epiphany -- his anger and frustration and his dislike of Taim -- are all still there; he just has better control now (like he said to Perrin). After having such little access to Rand in ToM and being iced out, it really is a relief to be inside his head again and to see that there's a lot more going on than what Min was able to glean from the bond.

23. Birgitte is leading a squad of Aiel, for... reasons. But the focus of this chapter is more on Birgitte's agonizing sense of loss over her fading memories and her fear that it means she is no longer bound to the Wheel as a Hero of the Horn. Birgitte is definitely more likable when she's focusing on her own shit rather than trying to micromanage Elayne's life. They pass a group of Trollocs who are "several days" dead, so time is definitely passing on the battlefield.

24. Rand is in the dream, wearing Two Rivers clothes and sturdy boots. Sturdy boots, you say? This feels like an interesting companion to Mat's thoughts on boots -- how nobles have too many, for every type of occasion, but all you really need are three pairs of boots, with sturdy working boots being your 'best' pair.

25. This is a dreamshard, and Rand learned the crafting of it from Lews Therin's memories. It's a place that mingles memory with fantasy, and this specific one, Rand thinks of as his 'valley of peace'. AMoL tries to shatter my "Rand as potential Dreamer" vibes by telling us that LTT wasn't a Dreamer and I say, "too late, I've already integrated that into my Rand worldview" (tbh I think that Jordan considered the idea of making LTT a dreamer (in TDR) and decided against it (in TSR) because he already had both Egwene & Perrin involved in all that and he didn't want Rand to be able to Do Everything).

26. There's a cavern in his dreamshard that Rand didn't put there. He wonders if it was put there by Moridin and tries to avoid it, but he finds himself encountering it again and again, so he enters. And there, in a pool of water, is Lanfear/Mierin/Cyndane. Okay, glad we're going back to this, but let's see where it takes us.

27. "Yes, her face was different, but faces were no longer of much matter to him. She was still the same person." Okay, yes, more of this. Rand reflecting on how the face is not the thing that matters! Very interesting results of him embracing the memories from Lews Therin. Rand remembers how Lanfear was the only one who'd sought out and chosen her new name when she became Forsaken. And he remembers their relationship from Lews Therin's youth, mingled with the way that he'd felt about her when he'd encountered "Lady Selene". Lanfear tries to convince him that she needs him to save her from the Dark One, but when he doesn't fall for it, the pool she was pretending to be drowning in vanishes.

28. There's a moment when Rand wonders if she might genuinely be willing to turn back to the Light, but she falters, tells him that she cannot make that choice. I feel somewhat "eh" about Rand telling her that LTT never loved her and never understood what love was before he met "her" (aka Ilyena). Lews Therin genuinely loving Mierin first wouldn't make his love for Ilyena lesser. I mean, I can go either way on it, but... there are different types of love (also, it's implied here that LTT & M were in a relationship for literal centuries which is definitely way longer than it was in my head lol). Anyway, Rand thinks here that he lets her go "as Lews Therin was never able to", because even after he stopped caring for her, he "held on to hatred and scorn". And Lanfear also sees here that "the core" of Rand is Rand and not Lews Therin, including his love for Elayne, Aviendha, & Min.

29. Hey, hey Perrin. Any thoughts about how Mat ran away from the Last Battle? Any considerations about asking Moiraine or Thom or Grady about Mat bouncing and defecting to his slaver wife?

No? No thoughts about any of that. Well, thanks for nothing, Perrin!

It does feel so ridiculous that literally everyone is engaged in the Last Battle right now except for Mat, who took a (two month? instantaneous? who knows!) detour to drink with slavers. Especially since they all believe that Mat is supposed to blow the Horn of Valere! How is hunting him down and yanking him to the battle to put his mouth on that horn not priority #1? We are not given any reason in the text why Perrin is so chill with Mat running away to "do something with the Seanchan" in Ebou Dar. Perrin knows that Mat is supposed to blow the Horn but... no big deal, I guess. For Perrin, Mat taking a vacation is more important than saving the world (*).

This complete lack of "we gotta get Mat to Merrilor" urgency is another reason why everything would make so much more sense if Mat had been deliberately sent from Merrilor to talk to Fortuona. Mat is genuinely important to the Last Battle -- as far as everyone in charge is concerned, he's irreplaceable, because of the Horn of Valere! But absolutely no one seems invested in actually locating him and bringing him to Merrilor. Even Elayne treats it more as a "oh what an annoyance" when she brings it up.

I assume that the reason Sanderson is doing his best not to bring it to the readers' attention is so that no one notices what a massive plot hole we have going on here but, man, it's so weird how little the characters care about not being able to use one of the key artifacts of the Last Battle.

30. I gotta say, Egwene using a sa’angreal and feeling like she vibes with it the way some fighters vibe with their swords feels like it makes a lot more sense than Elayne waving an actual sword around in her last PoV (I’m still not even sure where she got the sword).

31. We find out in Elayne’s next PoV that Rand is dropping by for visits sometimes. Any of those visits happen to include having dinners with Tam, Rand’s father and the grandfather of your future children, Elayne? If they do, we don’t find out about it. It’s so weird that Elayne is apparently interacting with Tam regularly but just as a captain in Perrin’s section of the army. So bizarre! Also, it sounds like quite a bit of time has passed and Rand still hasn’t gone down to visit the Seanchan like he said he was planning on doing after the big meeting. That choice would make so much more sense if Mat had been sent there deliberately to negotiate with Fortuona! As it is, there doesn’t seem to be any reason why Rand would wait around on making contact with them again. We know that they’re worried that the Seanchan will attack their back lines while they’re fighting the Shadowspawn, so why isn’t Rand trying to deal with that!

We get a timestamp for how long Elayne has been working on the battle: a week.

32. Talmanes is working directly under Elayne. I wonder if he’s ever tempted to tell her about the letter. Hundreds of thousands dead, because Mat is scared of Aes Sedai strings.

And it sounds like forces are needing to retreat on the majority of the fronts.

33. Can someone smack Perrin for me? Tam gives Elayne a compliment (which I will give a mild ‘aww’ to, even if the narrative refuses to allow them to actually talk about the fact that he’s the grandfather to the kids she’s carrying) and Perrin immediately puts her down and essentially says that her only actual talent is shutting up and listening to the good advice of men. What an asshole! Someone is still sore that Elayne tried to give him a job that he didn’t want, I guess.

(I say that as if Perrin has ever shown any respect to any woman outside of Faile and sometimes Moiraine; he spent, like, four solid books ignoring the multitude of smart women trying to give him advice during the Slog period because he was so laser-focused on Sacrificing Anything For Faile -- “listens well to those who know their tactics” is certainly not something that Perrin could ever be accused of. He’s too busy poisoning water supplies and selling women into slavery)

34. Perrin feels the tug of Rand calling him, ta’veren to ta’veren. Does not describe it in any kind of poetic way, as Mat sometimes would. So he gives the command to Tam. ...he could have just as easily done that from the position that Elayne had given him -- handled it until he felt himself being yanked to Rand.

35. ...Bornhald tells Perrin that Fain killed his parents, not the Trollocs. Why would you pick at an old scab in the middle of the Last Battle? What awful timing! Tell him afterwards! Put it in a letter if you think you might die! Seriously, is Bornhald trying to throw Perrin off his game and make him vulnerable? Also, I’m pretty sure that Perrin isn’t even the one who deals with Fain in the end, so that makes this exchange feel extra pointless. Would 100% trade it for a scene where Elayne and Tam actually acknowledge their relationship to each other.

(why is Bornhald getting closure by revealing this lie considered more narratively important than seeing the moment when Mat decided to desert from the Last Battle??? Mat is a main character! Bornhald is a tertiary character! It is more important to show Mat’s character beats than Bornhald’s. I should not have to say this!)

36. Apparently Aviendha and Rand have been getting some personal time near where Rand is making his plans to go into Shayol Ghul. Not that we actually get told that, mind you, we just find out when Perrin arrives that she’s one of the advisers who has been here at his camp the whole time. Anyway, Perrin gets to reunite with Rand again, because of course he does. A special two-page goodbye for Perrin Aybara! Rand and Perrin get to share an ‘embrace’. Uh-huh. Hey, Perrin, your Author’s Pet is showing.

37. Rand tells Perrin to “watch out for Mat”, because he’s worried that he’ll do something “highly dangerous”. This would all make so much more sense if Mat had been deliberately sent to Ebou Dar! It is just so wildly frustrating how Mat has been vanished from all these Last Battle plotlines.

Why doesn’t Perrin tell Rand right now that Mat is in Ebou Dar, dealing with the Seanchan, the way that he told Elayne? Rand tells him that he thinks Mat may do something dangerous but that he’s not sure what it is and Perrin is just like “aw shucks that’s above my paygrade, boss” despite having so much more knowledge in this situation than Rand has. How is it possible that Rand is still on an information diet from his allies during the Last Battle? Perrin knows that Mat ran off to Ebou Dar and doesn’t bother to tell Rand! Even after Rand has directly said that he’s worrying about Mat!

38. I am going to hope very hard that show!Perrin never becomes the person that book!Perrin becomes. Show!Perrin is a darling and I love him. Book!Perrin is an asshole.

39. Chapter fourteen is entirely Perrin (& Gaul) in TAR & Androl in the Black Tower. Things of note:

Perrin turns off the dreamspike that was covering the Black Tower

Lanfear has to settle for chasing & attempting to get through to Perrin, now that Rand has thoroughly rejected her

Gaul does a really good job in TAR because he has a solid sense of self. Yay, Gaul! Perrin really underestimates him here

big fight at the Black Tower after the dreamspike is disabled

40. So, the thing with Mat in AMoL is... because his arrival in Ebou Dar defies simple geographical logistics, it’s difficult for me to take anything he does here seriously, because there’s not really any way that he could be here, doing these things.

First, he has to go all the way to Whitebridge, all alone, where I will charitably assume that Perrin decided to abandon Pips when he moved the rest of his camp to Merrilor. That’s at least a week (it took ten days when they were traveling by boat in EotW. I will, again, be charitable and assume Mat was able to flag down a boat even as the Last Battle is starting). Luckily, Pips is still alive, despite being abandoned. Yay! Mat has decided to aim Pips south instead of towards Caemlyn, because he wants to defect to the Seanchan because... he wants to eat Seanchan weevils instead of Andoran weevils while he waits for the Dark One to destroy the world, I guess. We never actually got a reason. It’s still gonna take him at least a month, and probably more like two months, to get down to Ebou Dar. And he’ll need to be dodging Seanchan patrols all the way south (he is actively trying to avoid notice), which is gonna add time to his trip.

It is not possible for this timeline to make sense. Events in Merrilor are moving much more quickly than that, even if you try to use time dilation as an excuse.

So, yeah, it’s hard for me to engage with “Mat is climbing up the palace walls in Ebou Dar” when, logically, he should still be around Whitebridge collecting Pips at this point in the narrative.

But I will do my best.

41. Mat thinks about how he knew every escape route from the palace... and also, haha, oh how he jested with Fun Times Tylin about how she needed to fix them so that he... couldn’t escape her any more? Yikes, bro. Also, that is 100% not a conversation that ever actually happened with Tylin. Mat wasn’t chatting with her about his potential escape routes. He was attempting to use them and getting dragged back and locked in and starved until he submitted.

Thinking about Tylin does make Mat feel for a moment that his scarf ���felt like a ribbon that felt like a chain” (Ah. Alluding to how Tylin tied him up to rape him; notably, the time with the pink ribbons was the time that she raped him after Tuon had offered to buy him), though he immediately turns his thoughts to something else, so he doesn’t want to focus on the thought.

So I do think we aren’t supposed to take Fun Times Tylin seriously (she’s a dead saint and not a living abuser anymore) -- I think we’re supposed to realize that Mat is frantically lying to himself but, again, the problem is that there’s nothing to ground Mat here in Ebou Dar. We aren’t being given a reason. Mat is displaced in time and space, and we are displaced along with him. When is this moment happening in relation to what’s happening in Merrilor? It was a week ago for Perrin that he said that Mat was “in Ebou Dar, doing something with the Seanchan” but only a few hours has passed for Mat since he arrived in Ebou Dar. I’m pretty sure we’re not actually going to spend a whole week alone with Mat here in Ebou Dar, either.

Maybe this time weirdness is on purpose -- maybe Mat is meant to be essentially unstuck in time, unmoored from reality. Maybe that’s supposed to be another sign of how close the Dark One is but... it just doesn’t feel like there’s any consistency. Weeks apparently pass in a single night as Mat rides to Merrilor but then time slows down to a crawl where a week passes in Merrilor but it’s only been a few hours for Mat? That makes no sense. If there was a time dilation that strong going on already, people would have noticed it by now, because Mayene is the staging ground for the Yellow Ajah hospital and that’s roughly as far away as Ebou Dar is from Shayol Ghul. 

I have so many unanswered questions.

Where did Pips come from? We don’t know. Why did Mat decide to go to Ebou Dar instead of Caemlyn? We don’t know. How long has it been since his eye was ripped out? We don’t know. Why wouldn’t Perrin say something more substantial to Rand when Rand reveals that he’s worrying over Mat?

Again, we just don't know.

Though I guess there’s some (frustrating) narrative symmetry in no one ever being willing to tell Rand anything useful ever. You know, Light forbid the savior of the world get any actionable information without needing to dig it out himself or bully people into telling him. Even at the Last Battle, no one tells Rand anything.

42. Still, we have established that Tylin’s ribbons remind Mat of chains. I’ll remember that. Ribbons = chains = forcing himself to submit to a relationship because he doesn’t think he has the option to say ‘no’? I do believe that a ribbon is going to come up again. Mat reminding himself that Tuon and Tylin are the same kind of person? We’ll see when we get there.

And he also directly compared Tuon to Tylin in his previous chapter as well. Tuon is the new Tylin (he hopes that she will be his last Tylin, in the previous chapter -- something that can definitely be read in two very different ways). So, for Mat, Tuon=Tylin and a ribbon=a chain.

(wow, this would be so tragic and painful if... Mat actually had a reason to be forcing himself through all this. The narrative symmetry is THERE but the connecting tissue has been ripped away. Why wasn’t Mat at Merrilor to learn about Caemlyn and the Seanchan danger? We just don’t know. But “Mat doesn’t have a good reason to be forcing himself to do this” was also the mood in all of CoT & KoD, lol)

43. Mat thinking about his dad’s advice -- “always know which way you’re going to ride” -- feels especially weird here because Mat has never given the readers a reason for why he ‘turned his horse around’ and went to Ebou Dar instead of Caemlyn. The context for the advice appears to be “because sometimes the other side in the horse-trading negotiation will try to steal your horses and you need to hurry out of there” which is... interesting. That Mat is thinking about the right way to handle people who can’t be trusted and volatile situations. Underneath the surface, maybe he’s aware that Fortuona is always ready to cheat the other side. Another way to put the advice Mat thinks about here is “always know your exit strategy”. Do you already know your exit strategy and you just aren’t sharing it with the readers, Mat?

44. Here, Mat thinks about Rand but hastily suppresses the color swirls and, once again, we do not get any kind of insight into the moment between books that made Mat decide to turn deserter, except for a weird sort of cowardice that Mat has never had before -- Mat has talked a big game (out loud and in his head) about leaving but then never actually does it, because he’s always there when he’s needed. The moment when Mat fails to "go into the fire” for his friends seems like a significant enough deviation from the norm that it needed to be on the page.

Also, interesting to note that Mat still doesn’t plan to actually live a married life with Fortuona here? He thinks that he can save her life and then go off gambling and drinking in the city on his own, which is an incredibly optimistic case of wishful thinking. 

45. Only a page or so later, Mat again has to suppress thoughts of Rand and Perrin. See, the problem is the time. Because it takes so long to get to Ebou Dar, even if you take the “there literally isn’t time in the narrative for Mat to have gotten there” out of the equation, you also go back to “and there was all the time in the world for him to change his mind”. He’s now had to suppress thoughts of Rand (& Perrin) twice in less than a handful of minutes, and I’m supposed to believe that he just spent weeks doing that while riding down to Ebou Dar? And, once again, he also doesn’t think here about how he abandoned Olver & the Band of the Red Hand. It really is baffling that Sanderson & Team Jordan decided to go with “Mat is genuinely a deserter and a defector” rather than “Mat leverages his marriage as negotiation” when we literally just had Mat learning, in the Tower of Ghenjei, that he had the ability to use prophecy and the technical letter of the prophetic law to his own advantage. When Mat was planning, in the final chapter of ToM, to return to Caemlyn because he has obligations there. How did that turn into “Mat teleports to Ebou Dar with his horse, because he really is a coward at heart”?

Is the idea supposed to be that Mat got a color swirl that confirmed that the Last Battle had truly started, and it made him freak out and rabbit down south instead of going back to protect Olver and work with the Band, figuring that if there was any place to avoid the Last Battle, it was among the people who were Rand’s enemies and who definitely wouldn’t be among those fighting the Dark One? If so, then that moment needed to be on the page.

That really is what this all boils down to -- leaving essential character moments off the page, thus making the Last Battle itself feel much more hollow and pointless than it should, because we are not being emotionally connected to the people involved in the Battle. When you do that, they end up just being figures to move around a game board rather than characters that we’re invested in.

Things we left off the page (so far):

The moment Mat turns coward and decides to run from TLB

Mat’s separation from Moiraine & Thom

How Moiraine & Thom got to Merrilor

How Mat got to Ebou Dar

How Mat got his horse back

Rand realizing that Elayne is pregnant

Egwene & Gawyn’s wedding

Rand & Tam’s dinner at Merrilor

The conversation between Aviendha, Elayne & Min before Aviendha goes to Rand

Tam and Elayne’s first conversation with Tam knowing that Elayne is pregnant with Rand’s kids

how everyone knows now that Rand has three girlfriends

Any of those things would have been a better use of our limited page time than the Androl PoVs that we’ve gotten. And I say this as someone who does not dislike or hate Androl.

46. Hmm, this scene with Selucia seems to re-affirm the subtext that we just established -- the only way out of his relationship with Tuon, she says, is death. “Your neck in a cord” (also the title of the chapter, which would have been chosen by Harriet, who we know was aware that what Tylin was doing to Mat was rape). No more choice here than he had with Tylin. The metaphor expands. Mat always has something around his neck, leashing him. The scarf he uses to cover his scar is a hanging cord is a pink ribbon is a chain of ownership... death or slavery as the only options; to be hanged again or to be owned. But instead of being sold by Tylin to Tuon, he was sold to Tuon by the Pattern (or by the Aelfinn). The actual vibe with which the Fortuona relationship is being approached is... not actually something I’m having a problem with at the moment (at least not from Mat’s side), but the big issue is how abruptly Mat has cut himself off from his other obligations (broken record but: Mat’s behavior would make so much more sense if he’d come here deliberately to make a truce with the Seanchan, because he’s trying to make up for his failure with Caemlyn).

Also, we get a repetition of Tuon=Tylin here -- Mat has a flashback to the pink ribbons tied to the headboard when he catches a glimpse of the bedroom that is now Fortuona’s official suite. It’s also clearly framed as a bad memory (like a PTSD flashback) which contrast very strongly with how he’s trying to pretend that he and Fun Times Tylin were just engaging in a game all those times that she trapped and raped him. The pink ribbons really do feel like they’ve been established as a connecting thread between Tylin & Tuon at this point, in the subtext.

It almost makes me feel silly that I went to so much effort to point out all the Tylin & Tuon parallels in an earlier post, because at this point the book is basically straight-up saying “Yeah, Tuon is just Tylin with a new coat of paint”. The ribbon is a chain! Brace yourself for your trading partner to betray you! Make sure to prepare an exit strategy! Your only choices with the Seanchan are being a slave or dying!

47. Oh, we’re getting one of Rand’s visitations to Elayne’s. Considering how much compare-and-contrasting Sanderson did in ToM between Elayne and Fortuona, placing this scene right before Mat reunites with Fortuona is an interesting choice.

 Eh, nevermind. He visited Elayne earlier (off the page) and this is a visit to his dad instead. lol. I mean, I guess it’s an okay scene, but I’d rather have had the dinner between Rand & Tam earlier in the book, or have Rand and Tam actually acknowledge here that Tam is going to be having grandkids and that he’s literally now directly underneath Elayne’s command and one of her seconds now that he’s taken over Perrin’s command.

Another missed emotional moment: Rand talking to HIS father about his own regret over potentially dying and not being a father to his own kids. I feel like that would have been way more touching than this sword business. That being said, this is another moment of Rand giving a sentimental gift that speaks to his relationship with the people involved. So we now have:

Elayne: the Seed to create angreal

Lan & Nynaeve: replicas of the old Malkieri crowns

Tam: a sword to replace the one that Rand took back in EotW

And instead of talking about the future kids/grandkids or anything about Elayne, Rand and Tam duel. Honestly that just feels like a waste of page time to me. It’s not a bad scene but... eh, there are other things that it feels like Tam and Rand needed to talk about more. They had an entire scene without Rand or Tam ever mentioning the whole “So, Elayne is pregnant with your children” thing; despite literally the entire army knowing about it. What a strange choice!

48. Anyway, back to Mat, where he watches Fortuona do some fighting stances and tries his best to talk himself into being in love with her Because Wife. I guess it’s up to subjective judgement on whether or not you find his reasoning convincing. Was this specific moment maybe the reason that Sanderson vanished away Mat’s obligations and affections to the Westlands (that were all still so present in ToM)? Because it would be harder to do the “force yourself into love” tango if Mat appeared to realize that he had literally any other option available to him?

The reasons that Mat gives here for potentially loving her:

she’s hot enough that he’s willing to have sex with her

he married her so he might as well do his best to love her

trying to get her to marry him back was a challenge and he enjoys beating challenges

Literally nothing about her personality, lol. I mean, her personality is pretty rancid, so I understand why Mat would have had a hard time finding anything positive but, lol. What a list!

We’re told that Mat has been pondering this ‘for weeks’ and yet this is all he’s able to come up with: we’re already married and she’s attractive enough and if I’m able to get her to like me then I’ll Win The Game. Weeks of this question “scratching like an itch” at the back of his mind and this is all he’s been able to scrape up. lol and yikes. #AreTheStraightsOkay? (no, they are not)

Also, Mat setting up the situation with Fortuona as a game and he “plays to win” brings me back to how he’s been trying to play off Tylin raping him as the two of them playing a game as well. So that’s another fairly ugly Tylin-Tuon parallel.

49. He saves Fortuona’s life (oddly, not from Seanchan assassins, but from a Gray Man, which makes zero sense -- the Shadow should be cheering Fortuona on, not trying to kill her. She’s currently helping them out a lot). This is a genuine point of confusion for me, because Mat’s last chapter literally set up Fortuona as being targeted by assassins from fellow Seanchan and that... makes a lot of sense. Why can’t Mat just save her from a normal assassin? But I guess the readers need to be hit over the head with “SEE, she’s An Official Good Guy Now! You can tell because the Bad Guys are trying to kill her”. As opposed to, you know, actually writing her as capable of being a good person at any point in the series. (is she supposed to be capable of being a good person? or is it supposed to be clear that this is not something she has any ability or interest in?)

Though he does save her life, the Gray Man gets away and I’m currently assuming that’s to give Mat a reason to stick around even as Fortuona makes him more uncomfortable -- because he believes that he is obligated to protect her Because Wife.

50. This chapter does make me think about how ‘good writing’ is somewhat subjective, though, because Fortuona is a character that I’ve seen people say they like more for the ‘good writing’ than actually liking her as a person but... out of all of her scenes, I only really feel like three are particularly ‘well written’ in terms of her as a character (her introduction scene on the ship; the conversation with Mat in the damane kennels in WH, and her confrontation with Rand in TGS) and other than that, she tends to feel like a very flat and non-dynamic character to me, which makes her boring in addition to being annoying. That doesn’t mean that the people who feel that she’s well-written are wrong (as I mentioned above, I do think there’s an element of subjectivity at play); but I do find it an interesting point of disagreement.

51. Anyway, I am less interested in the play-by-play details of the ‘marriage’ between Mat and Fortuona and more interested in looking at two specific questions: 1) how much is Mat willfully deluding himself about Tuon? and 2) Does Fortuona show any interest in Mat as an actual person or does she only show interest in him as an objectified tool that she can use for her benefit? So I am going to see if Fortuona shows any interest in the parts of Mat that are not useful to her or the Empire -- does she care about his favorite color? (lol no) Does she ask after Olver? (lol no) Does she care that he was recently brutally injured? (this one is... subjective? she basically tells him that she likes him better now that he’s visibly wounded, but it’s up to the reader whether or not that goes beyond her thinking that him being “less pretty” makes him a more effective enforcer for her) Etc.

Before we even get to this chapter, Mat already has one willful delusion racked up from ToM: He believes that Tuon will ‘surprise’ the rest of the Seanchan Empire with the choices that she makes. We have demonstrably seen in her scenes so far that this is not true; and Mat was given zero reason in his scenes together with Tuon in WH-KoD to believe it would be true. This is something that Mat made up out of whole cloth because he wanted to believe it.

He added another delusion earlier in this chapter: Mat was operating under the illusion that if he went to Tuon to save her life, she would allow him to leave again, and he could go back out into the city to do his own thing rather than occupy the position of ‘Prince of Ravens’ under her ownership command.

52. He does learn one useful thing here, and maybe this is the reason why Sanderson cut off Mat’s other relationships -- Mat learns that Fortuona trusts him not to kill her (which does remind me of her wistful fantasy back in ToM about “unwavering loyalty” from the Prince of Ravens). If Mat had been sent here to negotiate with Fortuona, instead of being a deserter and a defector, then him learning this info about her would place him in a one-up position over her and give him an essential bit of knowledge-power as he entered negotiations.

But one key aspect of how the Mat & Fortuona relationship has developed in the series is that Mat is never allowed to have any kind of advantage over Tuon that isn’t immediately neutralized by the narrative. Jordan went to extreme lengths in CoT to ensure that Fortuona was always the one in the position of power (despite her having been kidnapped and removed from her power base) in the form of giving her inexplicable allies (Setalle Anan going from anti-slavery to buddying up with slavers in-between WH & CoT) who fought against Mat on her behalf. At the time, I attributed that to his decision to punt off any character growth for Tuon to the outriggers, but what it means is that that’s the precedent that was set for the Mat & Tuon relationship as a whole -- no matter how much it requires you to mangle and twist narrative logic, Mat is never allowed to have an advantage over Fortuona. He has to remain the underdog, even when that makes no sense in how the events of the story are playing out.

But that’s also part of what ruins it as a good enemies-to-lovers romance imo. Because there’s never allowed to be any give-and-take of the power balance between Mat and Fortuona. Instead, the relationship is all ‘give’ on Mat’s side and all ‘take’ on Fortuona’s.

53. Mat chooses to believe that Fortuona’s trust here is a sign that she potentially cares about him, choosing to ignore the fact that everyone else she ‘trusts’ is a slave she owns. Willful delusion number three.

And willful delusion number two gets immediately burst here -- when Mat implies that he’s only here to warn her and not to ‘return’ to her, she makes it clear that that’s not an option, not in her mind, anyway. And Sanderson & Team Jordan put Mat into a position where he really doesn’t have much choice about that, by tearing away his connections to the Westlands in-between books.

54. We do get another ~lovely~ reminder that Fortuona is a person who is incapable of admitting that she has ever been wrong about anything in her life when she pretends that she always believed that Trollocs were real and definitely didn’t mock Mat for telling her the truth about them. Living with people like that is genuinely hellish so, yeah. Mat has that to look forward to (again, it blows my mind how fans get on Elayne & the Wondergirls’ cases for their ‘ingratitude’ towards Mat, but Fortuona doesn’t get that same flack for behaving much worse).

lol, Fortuona telling him that she has ~decided~ not to be jealous about him spending time near another woman (she has magically intuited that he was rescuing a woman from a troublesome situation recently? since she had absolutely zero clues to put that together, I’m just going to assume that she thinks that’s how he spends all his free time, given what happened in WH and that she was kidnapped by him while he was rescuing other women).

Given how she acted around Joline, Fortuona ‘not being jealous’ every time he spends time with another woman is going to be another thing that will make Mat’s life with her extremely hellish. Of course, I’m sure she’ll manage the situation by trying to make sure that the only women Mat ever spends time with are her slaves, since she knows from WH that Mat finds the idea of having sex with slaves to be distasteful (though I doubt she has any clue why, even now -- her own objection was “damane are animals and I don’t want a pervert for a husband” and had nothing to do with consent). But I do wonder if Fortuona pointedly telling Mat that she’s ~decided~ not to be jealous about him rescuing another woman will have an impact on how he interacts with other women once he’s actually allowed to be around non-slaves again.

55. “He could not have lost her already.” Willful delusion number four? When have you ever ‘had’ her, Mat? But, yeah, Mat is doing his best to flirt with Fortuona and she’s giving absolutely nothing back. There’s something kind of sad/funny about Mat thinking that her being ‘cold’ is something that is “different now that she’s Empress” when that’s how she acted in all of CoT & KoD whenever she wasn’t throwing tantrums. It’s how she acted in WH too. This is not a new thing.

Mat really has made up a whole-ass completely different woman in his head and Fortuona is already failing to live up to her. I feel like I remember Mat being disappointed by Actual Fortuona at least one more time in the book, and I’m curious to see if it happens more often than that. But, yeah, Mat made up a girl in his head and now he has to compare that dreamed-up version of Tuon to the reality of Fortuona.

Qualities of Fictional Tuon:

Not Like The Other Seanchan

Not Cold

Not Possessive

Qualities of Actual Fortuona:

Pretty much the archtypical Seanchan High Blood

Formal even in private

Literally owns people, and has been possessive of Mat in the past (she was incredibly jealous over Joline, which was kinda hilarious because Aludra was the one that Mat had a genuine romantic history with and Tuon never clocked it)

56. Note that when Mat objects to being called “Highness” and being put in charge of training Seanchan forces (which does make him officially a defector, if he wasn’t before -- I guess before he was ‘only’ a deserter and now he’s a defector), Fortuona just straight-up ignores him and talks to Karede instead.

*whispers to Mat* it’s because she doesn’t respect you as a person *flutters away*

Instead of addressing Mat’s issues with how she’s treating him, she starts undressing and uses sex as a way to reward him for saving her life, to encourage him to continue to protect her, I would assume. And probably because she does want to have sex with him, and likely has wanted to have sex with him since she was first introduced to him in his role as Tylin’s (sex) Toy -- ex. Mat thought that she didn’t get anything out of him kissing her back in KoD but in her own PoV, she was shaken by his skills at kissing. And also because she needs her heir, as she mentions a little later in the conversation. But she is also explicitly using sex as a reward for good behavior (”Tonight, you have saved my life. That will earn you special privilege”).

57. Mat tries to figure out if she’ll ever care for him the way he would want a romantic partner to care for him, and she basically says “sorry, bub, that’s a ‘no’; I’m in it for the omens and the baby-making” and he has a ‘sinking feeling’ at her response but tries to convince himself that what she’s willing to offer him is enough or that he’ll be able to win her over eventually.

Notably, Fortuona only tells him that she will treat him as more than a toy when he flat-out tells her that he’ll leave if she can’t give him that much, which will probably not be a fun pattern for either of them to keep playing out in the future.

I also note here, again, how much importance Fortuona places on appearances -- Mat had already been experienced in battle before, but the lack of the eye makes him visibly affected by battle. And that really feels like it goes back to how Fortuona is actually much worse at reading people than she believes she is -- she’s great at reading the obvious surface cues, but if she’s dealing with anyone who is deeper than the surface, she’s at a complete loss. So now the first thing about Mat that she found admirable* is on the surface, where she can point it out to the other Blood if needed.

(* it’s not until she sees Mat being respected by the soldiers of the Band of the Red Hand in KoD that she sees him as more than a “buffoon”, to use her own word -- she wasn’t capable of seeing under Mat’s surface on her own)

And so they have sex in front of her guards, which is... hmm. We know that Mat wanted to have their first kiss in private, back in KoD, and Tuon insisted on making it a big public affair in front of everyone and probably especially Joline. So is he screwing her in public because he assumes that’s how she wants it?

58. But, yeah, literally all of that still could have happened if Mat had gone to Merrilor. The only difference, as far as I can see, is that we got cheated out of Mat reuniting with the rest of the Emond’s Field Five (and especially Rand), with everything implied along with that. At least half of Mat’s emotional complexity gets sheared away when you shear away his Westlands emotional connections. Off the page. In-between books. So all we have now is his tense and toxic situation with Tuon, and nothing healthier. So maybe it was done as a way of boxing Mat into his ‘destiny’ and not allowing him any glimpse of sunlight. (I’m reminded of how he compared traveling with Tuon to being trapped in a tunnel, without any sight of the outside world, and then I get depressed again, lol).

59. Aww, this Loial PoV is sweet. “Loial, son of Arent son of Halan, had secretly always wanted to be hasty.” I mean, then it becomes a battle, because the Ogier are engaging with the Trollocs in Andor, but the beginning is very sweet!

I’m guessing this objectification of enemies as “weeds” to be rooted out is probably the mindset of the Seanchan Ogier 'Gardeners' all the time.

Galad is also continuing to get a taste of disliking the extremity of the group that he’s joined/is leading -- when some of the other Whitecloaks call the Ogier ‘Darkfriends’ for their willingness to fight and their fierce determination, he points out that they are fighting Shadowspawn.

60. Rand says now that it’s “time to go” to “Mat, in Ebou Dar”. God, this would make so much more sense if Mat had been sent there deliberately. As it is, this is the first time we’ve gotten any sense that Rand was ‘waiting on Mat’ (also... um, not sure if Sanderson realized this, but the implication here is that Rand just watched Mat having sex with Tuon -- guess that counts as payback for all the times that Mat accidentally watched Rand having sex with Min).

Ah-ha! Thom told Rand about the situation with Mat!!!! This is HUGE INFORMATION! Thom coming in clutch with actually sharing information with Rand in a way that no one else has ever been willing to do. But this is fascinating because there’s so much information that Thom could have given Rand here: he knows that Mat married Tuon ‘accidentally’; he knows that she’s capable of channeling (confirmed in that conversation at the end of ToM) though I’m not sure if he knows that all sul’dam can channel, he witnessed the vast majority of the ‘relationship’ that developed between Mat and Tuon.

And Thom is the one person we know who has been willing to freely share information with Rand because he believes that more information is actually a good thing for a ruler to have (he was essentially Rand’s spymaster in Tear, before Moiraine bribed him to leave). Oh, but that is a WEALTH of information that Rand potentially has now. Thom is back and now someone is finally giving Rand actionable information. Rand potentially got both stories from Thom -- the heroic story that Thom told to Elayne and the ‘Mat married a slaver’ story that he told to Perrin, plus the information that he could have gleaned from that final conversation with Mat in ToM.

Of course, we don’t actually get to see the conversation between Thom and Rand to know exactly what he was told but! Rand going into this situation potentially knowing that Mat’s marriage to Fortuona was an accident on Mat’s part that Moiraine sees as a ta’veren move by the Pattern actually helps explain several things about his choices in that upcoming scene, I think, and why he doesn’t seem to have any concern or fear about what Mat marrying a slaver might mean about Mat as a person. He’s trusting the Wheel and the Pattern, and his own belief in Mat's nature (whether or not Mat still deserves it).

After so many books of Rand needing to claw and bully his way into getting even a tiny scrap of information, it’s such a relief that he has Thom back in his life, if only for this little while, to be a person who freely shares info with Rand.

61. Perrin managed to successfully trick Rand into thinking that he’s ‘grown up’ when honestly I feel like Perrin is the least mature out of the three ta’veren. But it’s cute how Rand aligns himself with Mat here, as the two who are only ‘pretending’ to be grown up.

I do think this conversation with Moiraine and Rand is sweet. <3 We also add another sentimental gift to the list: the silver Tar Valon coin for Moiraine.

Haha, at Moiraine getting to learn here that she’s one-up on Cadsuane -- Cadsaune fell for Rand’s “I have four hundred years of memories” play, but Moiraine pushes back on it.

Anyway, if I managed to miss the line that explained How Mat Got To Ebou Dar So Quickly, please point it out to me, because wtf.

(some late book spoilers below)

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

(*) ...it's almost like they already know that they don't really need Mat for the Horn. A bit of the Author whispering in everyone's ears to tell them that Mat isn't needed yet, so no need to worry about his absence. Reminds me of how all the characters took a vow of silence about Mat getting left behind in Ebou Dar back during the Jordan run so that Rand wouldn't find out.

Why does this keep happening to Mat specifically?

P.S. I know there’s some time dilation at play, especially as we go deeper into the Last Battle, but if Mat really had spent weeks riding down to Ebou Dar (while only a night passed in Merrilor), then the Seanchan would have launched a second strike on the White Tower by now (with Traveling).

Plus, Perrin clearly says that Mat is already in Ebou Dar a few hours after that big meeting in the tent, which means if we're dealing with that massive of a time dilation, then by the time Rand (eventually) goes to Ebou Dar to meet with Fortuona, it should be several months later, if "hours" in Merrilor was "weeks" for Mat as he rode down to Ebou Dar. And from what I recall, Mat does not spend several months lounging around in Ebou Dar before Rand shows up. iirc, Rand shows up soon after Mat's arrival in Ebou Dar.

And Mat still would have needed to go to Merrilor to get Pips in the first place, which really throws this entire scenario into incoherent nonsense, because Mat did not bring his horse to the Tower of Ghenjei. They walked through the gateway, no horses with them. The text in ToM is very clear on that point*. So where did Pips come from in this chapter?

(* "The small group stood on the Traveling ground outside Perrin's camp."

"[Mat] took a breath and stepped through the gateway. Quiet Noal followed, smelling of determination. That one was a lot tougher than he looked. Thom nodded to Perrin, mustaches wagging, then hopped through. He was spry, though he still bore the stiff leg from fighting the Fade two years ago.

Light guide you, Perrin prayed, raising a hand to the three as they trudged along the river's bank."

No horses. No Pips. Where did Pips come from in AMoL? How did Mat reunite with him, when the only way to do so would be to go with Grady to Perrin's camp... which is now in Merrilor?)

Pips being in Mat's opening chapter really does feel like another glaring indicator that Mat's plotline originally took him to Merrilor before he went to Ebou Dar, and it's baffling that it got changed into Mat being a deserter -- was this perhaps an example of Jordan leaving behind contradictory notes for Mat's storyline and Team Jordan deciding to go with both sets of notes even though they didn't gel with each other? Sanderson does mention in his retrospective that some of the notes that were left behind just straight-up contradicted each other (likely because Jordan hadn't made his mind up on which direction to take that section of the story).

Maybe Sanderson is just really bad at first chapters with Mat? Mat in his first PoV chapter in The Gathering Storm was also pretty rancid but then got much better as the book continued on.

Anyway, in future Mat-related chapters, I'll do my best not to focus on the brain-breaking and impossible logistics given to us by this plotline, though I will probably point out moments that I think would be more effective if Mat's storyline had followed what was set out in the final chapter of ToM.

#wot reread #wot #wheel of time #the wheel of time #rand al'thor #mat cauthon #wot book spoilers #wot spoilers #wot amol spoilers #wot a memory of light spoilers #i get pretty heated about mat here #along the lines of how i reacted to much of cot & kod #seanchan content warning #this one is pretty long

[terapsina]

SEND ME A SHIP (+ number) AND I WILL TELL YOU... Carol/Maria 2, 15 (Captain Marvel/The Marvels) and because I am me! Hizzie 10, 11, 20

Carol and Maria

2. ...why I do or don't ship them.

I ship them. I ship them quite a LOT. And that's because from the MOMENT we started seeing those flashbacks, it felt like I was watching a love story.

And then they had their reunion and Maria looked like the breath had been knocked right out of her chest. And Carol with this hangdog expression? And the piles of photographs that Maria had kept to remember Carol?

I'm sorry, but this isn't just friendship.

Add in amnesia during which most of the memories that were trying to break through revolved around Maria and her daughter? A kid that Carol was clearly around so much that even after YEARS of being missing she still seemed to think Carol hung the moon? I mean, COME ON, I can be expected to be only so strong here.

And The Marvels did NOT help. If anything Carol was pining after all that she had lost even MORE.

It's like a tragic fairy tale.

15. ...how I wish their story would go/would have gone.

Well first of all I wouldn't have killed Maria. Because it's stupid and I hate it.

Second of all I wouldn't have had Carol ghosting the woman she was clearly in love with and their daughter for 20 years.

Because it's stupid and I hate it.

Or if I did do that, then The Marvels would have involved a very chaotic Time Travel fix it.

Ideally she'd have remained in contact and gotten back together with Maria in the intervening years (FYI here's a fic I found where Carol does go back and it's adorable (or here's an old fic I wrote that contains a smidge of how I would have wanted Carol to have kept in touch)) and though I do think I want to have kept Monica getting dusted by the Snap (because I do enjoy SOME angst), Maria would have been snapped too.

And then Carol would have gotten the both of them BACK.

But that was ideally.

Now, my hopes rest on Carol finding a way to get back the stranded Monica (or to join her). Because if they're making this Alternate Universe Maria be kind of a mirror of Carol... then let's go all the way here and have this Maria be mourning her Carol the same way our Carol is mourning her Maria.

They can be each other's second chance.

---

Hope and Lizzie

10. ...rate the level of stupid they reach in their pining.

Can we reach levels above 10 out of 10? Because... duuude. When you have Lizzie constantly casting herself to play one half of a romcom couple and yet convinced that she's the matchmaker, or third wheel? And Hope being Lizzie's Totally Personal Hero? And Lizzie constantly pulling a Prince Charming on Hope? And Hope obsessing over Lizzie while lacking humanity all at the same time saying with her whole chest how she cares nothing about Lizzie?

AND BOTH OF THEM SOMEHOW COMPLETELY IGNORING THE BIG FLASHING LIGHT OF THE SIRE BOND AND WHAT THAT MEANS?

*voice full of saccharine condescension*: 'oh, honey'.

11. ...how quickly I started shipping them when I got into the fandom.

If memory serves me right... I started shipping them pretty early on. Wayyyyy early on, like before 1x12 even.

But where it became serious was the episode with the dress.

Like, the fact that she just went 'this family heirloom dress needs to be worn by the prettiest girl I know'? Goddammit, Lizzie.

And then of course there's the way you just have to admire the sheer gall of pulling a Klaroline parallel unintentionally?

But most of all... it might have been the way Lizzie spent the episode protectively glaring at the jealous boys. And the way she rushed over to hug Hope when she was about to have her breakdown in the middle of the dance floor.

Also. That face. Specifically.

20. ...how and when they should get/should have gotten together.

Ideally, at the end of the season 5 that never was.

I consider s4 to be the season where Lizzie realized and accepted that she's in love with Hope. Burt also accepted the idea that it was never going to happen and chose to try to move on.

S5 should have been the season where Lizzie is trying to do that while Hope is coming to accept that there's feelings there from her side too and that the idea that she might have realized that too late hurts.

Culminating in a big fight where they finally drop all the cards on the table and address all the things they'd been skirting over.

#danbeau #hizzie #carol danvers #maria rambeau #lizzie saltzman #hope mikaelson #captain marvel #the marvels #ask game #answers #isagrimorie #terapsina rambles #terapsina's captain marvel rambles #terapsina's legacies rambles #otp: this is the love lost; this is the love found again #otp: we're in this 'til the bitter end

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

!!MASTERLIST!!

Started- 01/07/23

Last Updated- 03/01/24

............................................................................................................

Ch-1 ~New waves bring new beginnings

Ch-2 ~Turning back the pages~

Ch-3 ~The journey back home~

Ch-4~ Welcome Back~

Ch-5~New times, same old rivalry~

Ch-6~Party Tricks~

Ch-7~Rising tides~

Ch-8~Birthdays and bondings~

Ch-9~No one calls you honey, when you're sitting on a throne~

Ch-10~New idols~

Ch-11~Supposed Saints~

Ch-12~Events and Associations~

Ch-13~The monster behind the mask~

Ch-14~Unexpected alliance~

Ch-15~True motives~

Ch-16~Fresh wounds~

Ch-17~The journey forth~

Ch-18~The Slaughter~

Ch-19 ~Memories buried away~

Ch-20 ~Call of the waves~

Ch-21 ~Unfathomable statements~

Ch-22 ~Unspoken agreement~

Ch-23 ~Estranged soul~

Ch-24 ~Unexpected manoeuvre~

Ch-25 ~The Mad Captain~

Ch-26 ~Monsters of the darkness~

Ch-27 ~Wreckages and casualties~

Ch-28 ~Boy under the guise~

Ch-29 ~Near abandoned town~

Ch-30 ~Excruciating journey~

Ch-31 ~Denial of the cause~

Ch-32 ~Old faces~

Ch-33 ~Half-witted sibling~

Ch-34 ~Family reunion~

Ch-35 ~Big decisions~

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lanstov x reader

[hbyrde36]

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Chapter 15 (FINAL)

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8

Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11 Ch 12 Ch 13 Ch 14 ao3 link

*Steve*

The steady beeping of a heart monitor was the first sign Steve had that he was still alive. He came around painfully slow, the sharp smell of disinfectant removing any lingering doubt about where he was.

Someone gasped. “He is waking up!”

That sounded like his sister—It sounded like Eleven! 

Steve desperately tried to open his eyes, strained to lift his head but it was as if every part of him was made of lead. 

“I told you he would.” A much deeper voice said, soothing and calm.

Eddie. 

Oh god, Eddie. 

The two people he loved most in the world were right there and he couldn't even manage to open his fucking eyes. He wanted to cry, only managing a strangled whimper.

What had happened? How were they even here? Was it safe? The hospital was too public, someone would see!

The last thing he remembered were slimy tendrils winding around his limbs, vines holding him down—choking. Vecna looming over him. 

Steve’s heart raced, the sound of the monitor broadcasting his panic to the room as its once even rhythm grew faster and more erratic.

The palm in his, which he hadn’t felt until just then, squeezed, and he felt the soft press of lips to the back of his hand.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Eddie’s breath ghosted over his skin as he spoke. “Everything is alright—It’s over.”

It was enough.

Enough to let him relax, to allow himself to slip back into a restful state. Lighter now,  sleep rather than true unconsciousness. He had so many questions, and he wasn’t totally without worry but if Eddie said it was alright—he believed him. 

Some time later, minutes or hours, he woke again—the heavy feeling in his body almost gone and he was finally able to blink his eyes open. 

Bright fluorescent lights and white ceiling tiles filled his vision at first, and then a familiar face with big brown eyes and a halo of unruly dark curls came into view as Eddie stepped close, hovering over him. 

His boyfriend grinned, bright and beautiful. Steve smiled back, couldn’t not, the tubes delivering oxygen through his nose tickling his upper lip. He reached up to pull it off his face and tried to sit up. Eddie's hands were on him in a flash, lifting and helping to settle him into a sitting position, at the same time El appeared at his side, sliding a spare pillow behind his back.

“El,” He sobbed her name, reaching for her over the side rails of his bed, pulling her into a half hug as best he could manage.  

She pulled back too soon and began looking him over, concern pinching her small features.“How are you feeling?” 

“Fine,” he rasped, throat dry. Again Eddie was right there, ready with a cup of water, bringing the straw up to his lips. “Thank you,” he said, sounding much clearer after a few greedy gulps of the cool liquid.

Steve looked around, noticing for the first time that the three of them were not alone. Wayne sat a few feet away in the corner of the room, giving them space for their reunion but watching on fondly. 

Suddenly Eddie’s hands were back, warm where they touched his cheek, this time gently placing the tubes back over his face. Steve frowned up at him. 

“You were in that place for a full day, we have no idea what kind of shit you breathed in—when he allowed you to breathe. Humor me, okay?” He was still putting on a happy face but Steve didn’t miss the way Eddie’s voice shook.

He nodded meekly, sliding their hands back together, and grabbed onto El with the other—thankful his IV line was long enough to reach.

“What happened?” He asked.

Eddie bit his lip. “Are you sure you want to hear this now?” He sounded nervous.

“Go on,” Wayne prodded, finally rising from his seat to join the vigil at Steve’s bedside. “Tell him all about how you two idiots decided to go on suicide missions.”

Steve snapped his gaze back to Eddie, eyes bouncing between him and El as his blood turned to ice in his veins. “What does he mean suicide missions?”

Eddie sighed deeply, sharing a heavy look with El, both of them still clinging to Steve’s hands. “I think we’d better start at the beginning.”

Hesitantly, they explained to him how they’d woken in the morning to find him gone from the cabin, and after searching the surrounding woods, slowly began to put the pieces together. Eleven told him how she’d searched and searched and come up with nothing, how Eddie dove head first into recovering his memories, desperately hoping it would lead to anything that might be useful. 

Though it clearly seemed to pain him, Eddie told him every detail of what he’d learned—that Henry might be his father, about his fickle powers—how he’d seen that something was coming but made no move to stop it—that in the end he’d run, leaving Eleven behind to fight the monster all on her own.

Finally, they both admitted to him how they’d snuck out of their beds, each thinking it was their responsibility alone to fix things, not wanting to risk anyone else, only to literally bump into each other in the Upside Down. Somehow, Steve wasn’t surprised. 

Inwardly, he sighed. At least they’d been together.

Outwardly, he fumed. “What were you thinking?!”

“I had to!” Eddie insisted sharply. He tried to pull his hand out of Steve's grip and turn away, but Steve held strong, refusing to let him hide. “I—can’t you see this is my fault? All of it?”

“You were a kid, Eddie.”

Eddie scoffed. “You mean the spawn of evil?”

“Even if he was your father, you are the furthest thing from evil there is. None of this is on you, baby.”

Steve froze, realizing what he’d said, and belatedly, the way they’d been acting with each other in the short time he’d been awake. He’d never gotten the chance to talk to Eleven before he was tricked away into the night. 

“El, I–”

“She knows.” Eddie interrupted, ducking his head shyly.

A wide smile spread across the young girl's face. “Eddie said that some people will not like it, and it might have to be a secret to anyone who is not our friend, but I am so happy for you!”

Steve smiled too. “That means a lot, El—and that’s true. Some people just can’t accept what’s different.”

She shook her head “I do not understand why your love should be any different from anyone else’s.”

Steve’s face grew hot, shoulders tense as his mind zeroed in on her use of the L word. “Oh, uh, well, we haven't said–” He stuttered, chancing a quick glance at Eddie, finding his eyes gone soft, shining, and full of such sincere affection— and Steve knew he must look exactly the same. 

Maybe they hadn't said the words yet, but there was no point in denying that the feeling was there—though they’d known each other such a short time. They’d get to the words eventually.

Wayne wound up finishing the rest of the story. He spoke of himself and the others figuring out what Eddie and El had done—how they rallied and gone into the Upside Down to help. He glossed over most of the details of the fight, which Steve was grateful for, but assured him that Henry was dead and everyone else was alive. The only thing that really mattered. 

Hopper had gotten pretty banged up. He’d make a full recovery, but was being treated in another room on the same floor—and though Wayne didn’t say it, Steve could see that the man’s own movements were stiff, and knew it meant he'd fought tooth and nail for them too. 

He’d also caught sight of the ligature marks around El and Eddie’s necks, and couldn't help wondering what other bumps and bruises Eddie was hiding under his clothes.

“Thank you, Wayne. For everything—but most of all for keeping these two safe.” Steve said when the man was done, inclining his head. “I do have a few questions.”

Wayne nodded. “I reckon it’s more than a few, but go ahead.”

“What about Brenner, and the lab—whatever’s left of the program anyway. Isn't it dangerous for us all to be out in public like this? What do we do now?”

There was a swift knock on the doorframe that seemed to come in direct reply to his question, as well as a familiar face walking hesitantly into the room wielding a clipboard and a thick envelope. 

“I think I might be able to help answer that.” Doctor Owens said, stopping short at the end of Steve’s bed.

Steve stared at him in disbelief. “Doc?” He said nervously, a little unsure if he should be relieved to see the man or bracing for a fight. 

Eddie squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, he’s been helping us. You were right, he’s one of the good ones.”

“Trying to be, anyway,” Owens deflected, tilting his head. “I still have a lot to make up for, and not just to the people in this room.” 

“What about the fire? How did you..?”

“The lab was mostly deserted at the time. Brenner had all hands out in the community looking for the two of you when he realized Eleven was gone. It’ll be blamed on a chemical spill, but we know now that the fire was due in part to Henry’s reopening of the gate in the basement.”

Owens paused, looking at them all in turn.

“First, I want to assure you that you’re all safe. I’ve flipped, as the saying goes, on Brenner, given him up to the government and told them everything they need to make sure he’ll pay for what he’s done. I’m sad to say the program was state sanctioned, but they don’t look kindly on their scientists going rogue, leaving deaths unreported, hiding valuable assets. It’s not what he should be prosecuted for, but at least it’s something—assuming he’s left alive long enough for a trial.”

“That takes care of Brenner, but what about the others, there must be files, film?” Eddie asked.

“All of which was officially lost in the fire. Records will show that the subjects known as Five and Eleven died in the blaze. Speaking of records—”

Owens pulled a folder from his clipboard, holding it out to Eddie. “I have something for you, if you still want to know the truth.” 

Eddie took the file with shaking hands, flipping it open straight away. His eyes were guarded at first, hesitant as they flicked over the pages, but the corners of his mouth slowly lifted as he read on.

“Where are they now?” Eddie asked abruptly.

Owens gave him a sympathetic look, mouth set into a thin line as he shook his head.

Eddie’s shoulders slumped. “They’re dead, aren't they?”

“I’m sorry, truly. They both overdosed a few years ago.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asked.

“Henry—it was a lie. He wasn’t my…” Eddie shook his head, a wry smile crossing his face. “I was given up for adoption as a baby. He wasn’t my father, it was a trick.”

Steve reached for him, running a hand over his side. His heart ached, Eddie had to be feeling so torn. 

“They were troubled teen parents,” Owens explained further, “tricked into giving you to Brenner, who was fascinated by the idea of experimenting on an average newborn, thinking they were doing right by their baby and giving him the chance at a better life.”

Eddie swallowed hard, passing the folder back. “You can do what you want with that, shred it I guess. I’ve got Wayne, and so many others now. I'm—it’s alright.”

The Doc nodded as if he understood, giving Eddie one more long look, smiling sadly. “We need to talk about El. She’s going to need a new identity—a name, family connections.”

Eleven gasped, “Does Steve get a new name too?”

Steve, who’d been busy worrying about Eddie, perked up at that, excited at the prospect of no longer being a Harrington, and maybe being able to call Eleven his sister for real. He looked at Owens expectantly.

“We’re using your disappearance and subsequent return as part of the cover story I'm afraid, and after speaking with Mr. Munson,” He gestured at Wayne with his clipboard. “I thought all of you might like to stay, in Hawkins that is. It would be hard to pass yourself off as someone else with such a recognizable face, Steve. Don’t you think?”

Steve whipped his head back around to look at El and Eddie, and found the other boy gaping at him right back, a matching look of shock on his face. 

“We get to stay?” Eddie’s voice wobbled as he posed the question. It was aimed at Owens but he never took his eyes off Steve.

“I don’t see any reason why not. As far as the public knows, a John Doe—Steve—you were staying at the lab and being treated for amnesia. You got lost running to evacuate the building in the fire, and Eddie here found you injured and wandering in the woods. He and his uncle recognized you, and brought you to the hospital where you were treated for smoke inhalation. It explains why Mr. Carver saw you at Eddie’s trailer the other night, as I understand it he’s been raising a fuss about that, and leaves you free to keep your own identity and re-enter society.”

“Well, if I'm staying… me, can I adopt Eleven? I’m over eighteen. I mean, I couldn't be her parent, but I'm already her brother in all the ways that count. Can’t we make that true?”

“That would, unfortunately, necessitate your parents' involvement, since she’d have to take their name.”

“Oh.”

“I did have another solution in mind.” Owens took a step towards Wayne, offering him a thick brown envelope. “If you’re interested in becoming an Uncle again, that is.”

Wayne undid the clasp, pulling out the first bit of paper he put his hands on. It was a birth certificate. He huffed a joyful laugh, turning it around to show the rest of them. 

The page read: Jane Eleanor Munson.

And bore the same names for mother and father that’d been used for Eddie’s forgery, making them full blooded siblings in the eyes of the law.

“Jane Eleanor—El—Munson, I like it.” Eddie beamed. 

“What d’ya say Ellie, you wanna live with me and Eddie for good?” Wayne asked.

El looked from Wayne to Steve and back again, her bottom lip trembling. “But, what about Steve?”

“Well I can't adopt him, honey, he’s over 18,” Wayne said, then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “and I think Eddie would kill me If I made Steve family before he could do it himself.”

“Wayne,” Eddie groaned. 

El giggled. 

“I’d love for you to both come live with us.” Wayne met Steve’s eyes, and he knew the man meant it. “But what about your folks?”

“They didn’t come back when I was missing, I don't see them wanting to be part of my life now that I'm back.”

“The hospital staff has called and left several messages for them,” Owens cut in. “Last I heard, they hadn’t called back.”

It probably should have been upsetting to hear, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to care. They certainly never had. 

“That’s that then. I think we’re gonna need a bigger trailer, kids.” Wayne said.

“Keep looking through that envelope.” Owens advised, chuckling. “It’s not much, only a three bedroom, but It was the best I could do.” 

Wayne rifled through the rest of the paperwork, and sure enough tucked in with El’s documents was the deed to a house on Cherry street, and if Steve wasn’t mistaken it was right next to Max and Robin’s houses. 

-

As bad as things had been before, not just during his time at the lab, but as far back as he could remember—his all but meaningless existence as the forgotten son of Richard and Lorraine Harrington—in the aftermath of Henry’s defeat and the gain of their new-found freedom things were better than Steve could ever have dreamt.

Life was good.

It wasn’t perfect, of course.

It took time to adjust to their new normal, to stop living in survival mode and just be. 

The new house was a bit of a fixer-upper, with ancient wiring and a water heater that only worked half the time—and it took months for the gossip about Steve’s sudden return, the whispers and rumors about why he was suddenly living with the Munson’s—not to mention their other new addition, to die down. 

But none of that mattered when they were happy. 

For the first time in her life, El got to be a kid. They enrolled her in school, enlisting Nancy, Chrissy, and Robin to tutor her in the subjects she struggled with—which was most of them—but that was okay. She loved it. And though Steve worried, because he knew how cruel kids could be, with Max, Dustin, and the other boys as her guard dogs, he was sure Eleven would be just fine. 

Eddie, for his part, tried to go back to school, but he’d barely been scraping by with a passing grade before Steve had come along, and with all the days of school missed because of his refusal to leave Steve’s side for at least two weeks after his release from the hospital, he’d lost any chance of graduating.

There was no sign of his powers after the battle with Henry. When Steve asked him about it, Eddie told him how in a fit of despair and hopelessness he’d caused a powerful psychic blast that had finally put Henry down long enough for them to set him alight, finishing him for good. They kept waiting for it to return, but even months later Eddie hadn’t had so much as a weird dream. If his visions did come back, they’d deal with it, but he was perfectly fine living his life without random and confusing glimpses into the past, present, and future. 

Going back to Hawkins high hadn’t been a viable option for Steve. He was told he’d have to repeat his junior year, as well as go through a senior year, and was advised that getting a GED was his best foot forward given the circumstances. Uncle Wayne had raised hell down at the school, finding it unbelievable that they wouldn’t give him a break, but Principal Higgins was unrelenting. 

Steve didn’t mind, he and Eddie could do it on their own. They could study and take the test together. It felt right to take that step into the next part of their lives as a team.  

They got jobs. 

When they weren’t busy preparing for the big test, Steve was working at Family Video. Robin managed to get him the job with her after promising her boss Keith that he’d be a magnet for curious babes wanting to see the returned heartthrob in person. And Eddie found a place as an apprentice at an auto body shop, quickly discovering that he had a knack for engines. He loved working with his hands—and Steve secretly loved how he’d come home smeared with grease, filthy and smelling of motor oil.   

They made love for the first time while camping out by Skull Rock. A special place that held so much meaning for them now. Somewhere they often went to be alone, to escape the house when El was home and Max was over and Wayne was bustling around and their need for each other was too much to hide soft and silent behind thin walls. 

They’d logged countless hours thoroughly exploring each other’s bodies with hands and mouths. Months of learning the taste of each other, the feel, what touch worked best to bring each of them to the brink. But the first time Steve pushed his way inside, the first time their bodies were joined as close as two people could be, it was with the stars and Skull Rock as their witness.

Steve took care in opening Eddie up, not wanting his first time to be anything other than exquisite pleasure. He worked his fingers inside the tight heat of Eddie’s body, his movements slow and sweet and gentle—teasing, until Eddie’s legs were shaking and he was begging Steve to just fuck him already—needing the closeness—needing Steve. And Steve gave himself happily—thoroughly. He showed Eddie how much he loved him with every thrust, gazing into his eyes until they both lost themselves to the ecstasy of their release. 

The first time they said the words was under the same stars, the same night’s sky when they were spent and sated, sweat still drying on their skin as they curled around each other inside their shared sleeping bag, on the edge of drifting off. 

“I love you.” Steve breathed the words into the skin of Eddie’s shoulder, punctuating them with a tender kiss. 

Eddie nuzzled his face further into Steve’s neck, grazing teeth over his pulse point before whispering back, “I love you too.”

-

It had been a nerve-wracking six weeks to the day since they’d taken the high school equivalency test. 

Eddie was convinced he had failed, not that he needed the slip of paper to continue training as a mechanic, the guys at the shop had already promised him a full time job when he was done, but it was the principle of the thing. 

Steve was… cautiously optimistic about his chances. After everything, he finally knew what he wanted to do with his life. He wanted to help people, kids like El who’d had no one looking out for her best interests, but in order to become a social worker he needed to go to college, and in order to get into college he needed this GED.

It had become a daily ritual, checking the mail together before dinner, waiting for their fate to arrive in matching envelopes. 

El joined them today, and they let her have the honor of opening the rusty mailbox. She flipped the lid down, and there they were, mixed among the sales flyers and a past due electric bill, two large white mailers bearing their names and the words, do not bend, stamped on the front 

They traded packets, carefully tearing into them for each other at the same time.

Eddie let out a powerful whoop, loud and ecstatic.

“I knew it! Sweetheart, you did it! I knew you could do it. I'm so proud of you.”

Steve broke out in a deep blush, turning Eddie’s own results around to show him as well. “So did you, baby.” 

“No shit!” Eddie gasped. 

Steve reached for him, at the same time Eddie reached back, and if they hadn’t been out on the street would have pulled him into a kiss and not let him go until they were both too out of breath to continue. For now he settled for gripping his boyfriend's arm and smiling down at his sister. Her joy for them evident in the way she jumped up and down clapping her hands at the good news. He couldn’t wait to tell Wayne.

It would never stop amazing Steve how he could have stumbled upon something so wonderful and beautiful in the middle of the worst time in his life. Nothing had been the same since the night he found Eleven wandering in the rain, and even knowing what he’d gone through, the pain he’d endured, he knew he’d do it all again if it meant he’d end up right here with his new family, the love of his life, and his sister, finally safe, by his side. 

Thanks forever to @penny00dreadful for being the best friend, cheerleader, and beta in the whole fucking world💜

Taglist: @newtstabber @goodolefashionedloverboi @adaed5 @buckleybarnes @soaringornithopter @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @bestwifehaver @5ammi90 @sofadofax @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @hardboiledleggs @epiclazershark @herebedragons404 @estrellami-1 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @the-s-is-silent @brbsoulnomming @goinsteddie @steddie-there @yeahhhh-suga @thestarslittleking

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey hey steph! good morning or afternoon, wherever you are . just seeing if you have any fic lists that center mainly around sherlock’s time away/sherl in serbia?

Hey Nonny!

Ah, I have made a community post here before called Aftermath of Serbia / Serbia Fics (Dec 2022) that have several fics on it that you may enjoy, as well as some fics on my blog tag here that has some other fics not on the above Community post. AND I also have some similar lists linked below!

I went through my bookmarks and my MFL lists, and did a keyword search and organized them below, so I hope this satisfies the need!

And these aren't meant to be confused with Post-S2 fics! These are fics that deal SPECIFICALLY with Sherlock's time away and the trauma it caused! If you have a fic that fits that bill, please add it! This is a list that's been long-time coming, since I've been asked a lot for them :)

SERBIA / AFTERMATH OF HIATUS FICS

See also:

John Finds Out About Hiatus

John Joins Sherlock During Hiatus

Sherlock Returns from Hiatus Injured

Sherlock’s PTSD 

The Death of Doubt by Gingerhermit (E, 6,584 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate Canon, BAMF John, POV Sherlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Drama, Meddling Mycroft) – Mycroft asks for John’s help in rescuing Sherlock from his Serbian captors.

Both Sides Now by Silvergirl (M, 14,724 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TEH / Reunion Fix-It, Bed Sharing, First Kiss / Time, Undercover John, Couple for a Case, Assassin Mary, Big Brother Mycroft, Norfolk Coast, Angry John, First Kiss, Worried Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Alternating POV, Infidelity, Meddling Mycroft, Emotional Love Making, Matchmaker Mycroft) – Sherlock, undercover on the Norfolk coast, texts that he needs help; John is still seething after Sherlock’s gambit in the train car, and he refuses. When Sherlock goes missing, Mycroft sends John in to pose as Sherlock’s bit on the side.

Your Perfect Offering by CaitlinFairchild (E, 44,609 w., 6 Ch. ||  Hurt / Comfort, First Time, Romance, Angst With Happy Ending, Rape Recovery, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Past Rape/Non-con, Psychological Trauma) – “Sherlock,” John continues, careful and quiet. “I’ve seen your back. I know you were hurt. I don’t want to pry, I don’t want to cause you discomfort but...I’m starting to think something else happened there. In Serbia. ”Sherlock rolls away and sits up on the edge of the bed, his back to John. “A great many things happened in Serbia,” he says, flat and remote. “None of them were pleasant.”

Winter’s Storm by LoloLolly (M, 51,812 w., 11 Ch. || Canon Compliant Through TFP/S4 Is Canon, Alternating POV,  Established / New Relationship, Parentlock with Rosie, Explicit Torture, Mentions of Sherlock’s PTSD, Mentions of Human Trafficking, References to Child Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping, Captivity, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Case Fic, BAMF / Soldier John, Sherlock Whump, Mycroft and John Work Together, Marriage Proposal, Autistic Sherlock, Lestrade Finds Out, Polyglot Sherlock, Aftermath of Serbia) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft. Part 2 of the Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) series

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns. 

MARKED FOR LATER

And one day you'll see the scars by thepurplewombat (T, 1,550 w., 1 Ch. || Post TEH, Aftermath of Torture, Angry John, Scars, Sherlock Whump) – songofages and I had a conversation about Sherlock's back in TEH, because really, how much must it have hurt to let John slam him into the floor like that after everything he'd gone through, and this happened. It turned out more angsty than I'd intended, and more Mrs Hudson-focussed, but I don't think you can ever have too much angst, or too much Mrs Hudson, for that matter.

English as a Foreign Language by standbygo (G, 1,739 w., 2 Ch. || Post-TRF, PTSD Sherlock, Reunion) – Sherlock is not quite right after Mycroft pulls him out of Serbia.

He Is Different, This One by ASilvergirl (G, 2,691 w., 1 Ch. || TEH Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Serbia, Neuroatypical/Autistic Sherlock, Snarky Sherlock, Big Brother Mycroft, Pining Sherlock) – How would the Serbian "interrogation" go if his captors knew that Sherlock was neuroatypical and had synaesthesia? This is an alternate version of the scene from "The Empty Hearse."

Wounded by Gregorovitch (T, 3,309 w., 1 Ch. || TEH Fic, Aftermath of Violence, Awkward Conversations, Sherlock’s Scars, Angst with Happy Ending) – John accidentally gets to see all of Sherlock's wounds after the Fall. Time for both of them to have a serious talk.

By the Rivers of Babylon by verdant_fire (T, 3,359 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post HLV Canon Divergence, Love Declarations, Exile, Pining Sherlock, Longing, Angst, POV Sherlock, Reunions, First Kiss) – Sherlock goes back to Serbia, and endures exile, boredom/torture, and a certain chemical defect, for the sake of one person and three improbable words.

Maybe I'am amazed by honeybee_motorcyles (T, 3,448+ w., 3/7 Ch. || WIP || Post TRF,  Implied Rape/Non Con, Sherlock’s Not Okay, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied Sexual Content, HIV/AIDS, POV John) – In which what happened to Sherlock in Serbia had a consequence that lasted a lifetime, (literally).

Places in the Mind by Calais_Reno (T, 4,411 w., 1 Ch. || Post HLV, POV First Person Sherlock, BAMF John, Hurt Sherlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Memory Loss, Pining, Heavy Angst, Regret, Hurt/Comfort, Rescue, Protective John, Love Confessions, Drugs) – John rescues Sherlock in Serbia after he is wounded. This takes place after the Tarmac scene. Part 7 of Just Johnlock

The Great Escape by Castiel_For_King (M, 22,299 w., 8 Ch. || PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is Not Okay, Unstable Sherlock, Aftermath of Torture, Flashbacks, Protective John, Dissociation, Suicide Attempt, Big Brother Mycroft, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss) – Sherlock's mind has ruptured...and he didn't even notice until it was spilling it's contents like a broken jello mold. The lines between what he thought was real and what he wished was real start to unravel and Sherlock finds himself trapped in the clutches of his own broken mind, with no way to escape. Luckily, he has his conductor of light to lead him out of the darkness.

Learn My Scars by meet_me_in_samarra (M, 38,075 w., 31 Ch. || Post-TRF, TEH Divergence,  Aftermath of Serbia, Sherlock Whump, Caring John, Sherlock-centric, Big Brother Mycroft, POV First Person Sherlock, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Injuries / Scars) – After being thrown down and strangled, Sherlock leaves John in the restaurant, angry and deeply hurt. When John follows Sherlock to 221b, he learns that Sherlock's scars have not been acquired by “gallivanting around” for two years.

An Aftertaste Of Memory by Raithwithwings57 (M, 39,009+ w., 20/? Ch. || Post TRF, Rosie is in this Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Amnesia (Sherlock), Torture, Scars, PTSD, Divorced John, Divorced Lestrade, Misunderstandings) – Sherlock Holmes was believed by most to have died by jumping to his death. A few people, Mycroft Holmes included believed he died in somewhere in Serbia, tortured to death, though his body was never found. Sherlock Holmes himself doesn't believe either of the above, obviously. After being extensively tortured in Serbia, he suffered a traumatic brain injury that left him with amnesia, and deafness. But the doctors say that the deafness is psychological in nature. It doesn't matter much to him. All he knows is that his name is William, and that he was once (and it seems he always will be) in love with a man by the name of John Watson. John has suffered much in the last eight years. Losing his best friend to suicide, marrying and then later being divorced by his wife, battling for joint custody of his child, and generally trying to forge ahead and figure out what the seemingly bleak future holds in store for him. But what he could never expect is Sherlock's sudden return. Nor the man's conviction that once upon a time they were madly in love.

Not the King's Men by StoneWingedAngel (T, 56,183 w., 25 Ch. || Aftermath of Torture, Swearing) – John finds Sherlock three years after he thought he'd buried him, scared and injured; broken to such an extent he can barely recognise those trying to help him. Battling against too many unanswered questions and his own feelings, John sets out to put him back together, but never stops to consider Sherlock's return may be part of a greater punishment in store for the both of them.

Flesh and Blood and Bone and Heart by SilentAuror (E, 59,990 w., 3 Ch. || Post S3/TAB Fix It, Romance, Terrorism, Bombs, Suspense, Kissing, Indfidelity, Murder, POV John) – As John takes Sherlock back to Baker Street rather than seeing him off to his mission in Serbia, Sherlock decides to reveal how very human he is, after all, and the fall-out will have enormous consequences for them both...

I want to go home. Series by IwillbeReichenbach (E, 82,514+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || TEH / Post-Serbia, Canon Compliant, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Sherlock-centric, Torture, Violence, BAMF Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Canon Compliant, Mycroft To The Rescue, Dark, Pain/Hurt, Injury, Waterboarding, Electricity Misuse, Rape Aftermath/Recovery, Humiliation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Broken Sherlock) – A version of the events that occur in Serbia and shortly thereafter. Sherlock is in for a rough time. I have tried my best to keep it canon compliant. 

Shatter Me by Loveismyrevolution (E, 171,074+ w., 21/26 Ch. || WiP || Sherlock Dances, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst with Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Introspection, Mutual Pining, UST, Idiots in Love, Big Brother Mycroft, Implied Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions) – This is a story about two men trying to find their way back into the comfort of their companionship. No easy task in the aftermath of the events of Reichenbach, a wedding and a shot through the heart. They are facing a very rocky road ahead with a lot of introspection, misunderstandings, angst and pining. They each try to cope in their own particular way. Eventually, they'll find a way to communicate and learn about the true nature of their feelings.

Scheherezade by sgam76 (G, 197,576 w., 45 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF/Pre-TSo3, PTSD Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Humour, Protective John, Papa Lestrade, Big Brother Mycroft, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Aftermath of Serbia, Past Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Drunk Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Suicidal Thoughts / Attempt) – Sherlock is home, he and John are returning to cases, and all's right with the world--right? But a series of minor mishaps and injuries makes two things very clear to his friends and family: first, Sherlock's time away wasn't the grand adventure everyone has assumed it was; and second, that time has left Sherlock with a legacy that's bleeding into his life today. Sherlock is Not Okay, and it's not going away. Part 1 of the Scheherezade 'verse series 

Define Vulnerabilty by TheGracefulBlueCat (T, 240,606 w. 97 Ch. || Canon Compliant, Aftermath of Torture, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Sherlock's Violin, Doctor John, John is a Good Friend, Flashbacks, Case Fic, Sedation, Sherlock is a Mess / Not Okay, Nightmares, Big Brother Mycroft, Asperger's Sherlock, Fainting, Sherlock's Mind Palace, Triggers, Panic Attacks, Hurt Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Blood and Gore, Drugs / Drug Use, Helpless / Vulnerable Sherlock, Protective John, Painful Repressed Memories, PTSD Sherlock, Medical Procedures, Drugged Lestrade, Lestrade Whump, Drugged Sherlock, Recovery, Crying Sherlock, Dissociation, Forehead Touching) – Shortly after Sherlock's return John realises something is very wrong with his friend. He, Greg and Mycroft try to help Sherlock as he falls deeper and deeper into the abyss called PTSD. But Sherlock is not ready to allow anyone in, but then the events of the current case cause him to hit bottom hard. Part 8 of the Lessons in Friendship series, Part 1 of the Hiatus series

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #aftermath of serbia fics #hiatus fics #serbia fics #sherlock's ptsd

[thecrowperson]

Kaidou manga panels I like: (pt 201)

Dark Reunion Denier: feat. Kuusuke and Kusuo

From: vol 11 ch 107

#saiki k #tdlosk #shun kaidou #kaidou shun #kuusuke saiki #saiki kuusuke #kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo #used saiki's first name for the featured characters since it felt weird when it was just him and kuusuke

[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - Epilogue

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

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

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+   Word Count: 7k   Warnings: Family reunion, pregnancy, references to deceased spouse/child, cemetery visit, character death, vague afterlife references. Summary: Jack’s birthday on the ranch is celebrated with a new surprise.  Notes: This story has been so near and dear to my heart, and my absolute love of one sweet cowboy has made it even more precious. A few people have asked and there is always a possibility of coming back to revisit our soulmate pairs, so we’ll just have to see if these two have any more stories to tell in the future. Until then - stay tuned for a preview of the next soulmate story - The Viper’s Bride - later today!

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

"Grammy! Grampa!" The shout goes up through the house – two little voices in unison as the front door of the ranch house swings open and two sets of stampeding feet come thundering toward the front hall at top speed. Even though you and Jack are moving a bit slower these days, it's nice to see family, especially for an occasion like this one. The fact that all the two of you have to do is show up is something of a fringe benefit. The other half of your entourage is right behind you, as Jackson won't let you or his father carry your bags into the house from the truck. He's greeted with an equal screech of "UNCLE JACK!" and your two grandkids veer slightly off course immediately to launch themselves at their uncle.

“Already replaced.” Jack pouts, rolling his eyes playfully as the kids clamber all over the youngest. “Jane still loves us. Jane? Honey? Where are you?”

"We're not as fun to climb on as Uncle Jack is," you chuckle under your breath as your younger child stands tall for his two nephews to climb all over like a tree in the yard.

"Dad?" The voice from the kitchen is loud enough to be heard over the din without shouting. "Mom? I'll be right out; I'm just putting the finishing touches on the cake!"

Jack chuckles when your face falls, obviously hoping to get here before she had made dessert. “You know it’s coconut cake.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to your leathery cheek. The years have been kind to you, still as gorgeous as the day he had tucked tail and ran from you.

"Of course it is. My baby knows what she's about." That sense of pride in your children is as bright as it was for their first smile, first laugh, first step, first word – first anything. Jackson might be the one running the restaurant with you now, but his older sister is something of a miracle in the kitchen in her own right.

"You made it!" When Jane appears from around the corner a second later, her apron is covered in all the evidence of an enormous project gone very right and there's coconut flakes still under her fingernails, but she's smiling as wide as can be and holding out her arms to hug both of her parents at once. "Happy birthday, Daddy."

“Thank you, honey.” Jack doesn’t deny his birthday anymore, doesn’t insist that it’s not to be celebrated. The parties that have been held have been a joyous reminder of the life he has now, a bittersweet remembrance of what could have been, but the ache has lessened over the years with the annual visits to Daniels Ranch. “Kacey still workin’ or is he around?” He asks.

"I barely got him inside twenty minutes ago, so he should be out of the shower soon." Jane squeezes you both tight and smiles, happy despite being tired. That's motherhood in a nutshell. "His family should be on their way right about now. They didn’t want to overwhelm you by taking over the house right when you arrived but they promised not to be late for dinner."

“Hope he’s ready to drink some whiskey and lose money to me after the kids get to bed.” Jack chuckles, having brought a few bottles from the distillery.

"Kayce's on a budget this year." Your daughter rolls her eyes fondly and laughs. "I don't need him losing the house during the poker party after I just redid the kids' bathroom."

Jack snorts and grins at his eldest child. The long-standing joke about betting the house always amuses him. Jane had found she was soulmates with Aiden’s grandson when they were just nine and ten years old. So every summer they had come back, making sure the young soulmates had a solid foundation and the boy liked ranching better than farming. He now ran Daniels Ranch and the board had been dissolved just a few years ago.

"What can we help with, sweetheart?" Despite Jack teasing you that it's perfectly okay to slow down and even consider retiring now that you've officially passed into senior citizen status, you just can't help yourself. No matter where you are or what you're doing, you have to dig your hands in.

“Nothing.” Jane is just like you, a consummate entertainer. Loving to provide good food and good times for those she loves.

"I don't know how you do it." You shake your head and give Jane another hug just as you hear footfalls on the stairs in the next room. "When you and your brother were that little I was throwing potlucks and pool parties. You've got your great-grandma in you. She could do absolutely anything with perfect style."

“Mom, come on.” She snorts rolling her eyes. “The only reason you did that was because dad put his foot down about you not running yourself ragged.”

"Then somebody ought to tell that husband of yours—" The exaggerated words come with a smile, knowing Kayce can hear you from the stairs. "That he ought to be helping out, too!"

“Sorry.” Kayce rubs a hand through his still damp hair and grins sheepishly. “Had a problem with the calves out in pasture twelve. They keep escaping and turning up in the creek.”

"Don't trouble yourself, honey. We just got in." It's not that you have favourites by any means – but if you could have chosen a son-in-law by hand, you certainly couldn't have chosen anyone kinder or more loving for your only daughter than Kayce. "The boys are already climbing on their uncle, and Janie didn't leave a thing for me to help with. So I have nothing to do but give out hugs, I suppose."

“Well, I can accept one of those.” Kayce holds his arms out and wraps them around you for a hug. “Thank you for coming. It’s so hard to get away. And I know this is tradition.”

"We wouldn't have missed it for the world." Turning around to find where Jack's gone, you smirk when you see that he's snuck into the kitchen to admire his birthday cake and swipe a finger through the frosting bowl.

“Daddy!” Jane huffs, turning around to see where you are looking. “What?” Jack cries, pretending he hadn’t just stolen some frosting. “I had to test it! You know that’s my role.”

"He's worse than the kids," you laugh, shaking your head at him before looking back at Jane and Kayce. "At least let me help set the table? Don't make your Mama feel useless."

Jane narrows her eyes at you for a moment before she sighs, relenting. She knows how it can be to want to help and be told it’s not necessary. All while watching someone run around. “The birthday china.” She gestures towards the large cabinet along the wall.

“The birthday china.” Grateful to not be relegated to the position of old lady who sits in a chair just yet, you hustle into the kitchen while you listen to Jack play with your grandsons out in the other room. What the family calls ‘birthday china’ is actually the beautiful china dinnerware that Jack and Abigail had received as a wedding gift that had been relegated to the house’s cupboards and left behind when Jack left for Louisville so many decades ago. Now it is used consistently, every time there is an adult birthday to celebrate on the ranch.

Jack walks back into the dining room to watch you fuss over the place settings with a fond smile. Wrapping his arm around his daughter and squeezing her against him. He might not be as strong as he had been when she was a little girl, but he is thankful that Ginger has managed to keep all of you spry. “Thank you, honey.” He murmurs softly. “This is just what we needed.”

“You can come up as often as you want, Dad. You know that.” Jane settles against her father comfortably, always having been a bit of a Daddy’s girl and enjoying the comfortable presence of having him close by. “You are retired now. Even if Mom refuses to.”

“I know.” He shakes his head. “Still can’t get her out of that kitchen. It’s her baby now that you two are grown.”

"It was her baby even before we were born," she laughs softly. "That restaurant is my older sibling, and also somehow my brother's baby." The Rabbit-Hole, she always says, is just another member of the family.

“It’s woven into the fabric of our lives and most of your memories.” Jack admits, praying that his children are happy with their lives. He had given them the opportunities to do whatever they wanted and yet each of them had chosen a path that was damn near a family legacy.

"And some day when Jackson finally finds his soulmate, it'll be part of their kids' lives, too." It's more or less an open secret in the family, what Statesman is all about. And because they are so aware of the inner workings, Jackson always likes to say that his soulmate must be one of the agents. Who knows whether or not it's true, but it certainly does speak to his mischievous heart.

“That boy is just as stubborn as I was.” He chuckles, shaking his head as he looks over at where he’s rough housing with the boys.

"If we thought he'd be happy without knowing them, that would be one thing," Jane shrugs with sympathy in her eyes. "But I know he wants to find them. It'll happen eventually." After all, she knows how lucky she is. If Kayce hadn't broken his arm when he was ten, they might not have known they were soulmates until they were much older.

“He would be. He’s a romantic at heart.” Jackson doesn’t say much about it, but Jack knows the boy’s worried. He doubts the kid doesn’t have a soulmate, he’s just sure they’re playing hard to find.

“It’ll happen.” Jane hums confidently, always seeming like she knows something the rest of the family doesn’t. Her Mona Lisa smile always keeps everyone guessing. “Why don’t you get settled, Daddy? Aiden and Sheila should be here soon and we can all tuck in to this big birthday dinner.” She grins at him. “I’m gonna tell Kayce to get the grill going.”

“Shit.” Jack pouts at his daughter. “I’m gunna drink a beer and advise the boy on how to cook those steaks perfectly.” He teases with a wink. He tries not to interfere, but he’ll give his son-in-law a hard time on principle alone.

“Shocking that you would do such a thing,” Jane teases, waving her father off to follow the sound of roughhousing so she can say hello to her little brother. Though adulthood has kept them apart for a few years now, they still talk mostly every day and remain as thick as thieves.

Stopping by the fridge, Jack grabs two beers, knowing Kayce will want one as well. Grilling is horrible thirsty work and it seems only right to do it with a beer in your hand. Stepping outside, he watches as the younger man lights the grill. “Reports from the ranch have been really good.” He offers, striding over to hold out the beer. “Seems like everything’s going alright?” It’s a statement and a question. Giving Kayce an opening to talk about anything that’s on his mind.

“Can’t complain.” The younger man takes the bottle that’s offered to him gratefully and nods, looking out over the back yard of the much-larger ranch house since he finished the last set of renovations. “We just hired on two more permanent sets of hands.” He looks to his father-in-law curiously. “You remember the Pruitt family? They say they’ve been in the valley as long as the Daniels have, but that could just be big talk.”

“Pruitt...Pruitt…” Jack hums as he thinks back, looking over the yards towards the barns and bunkhouses. “Think I remember them. Seems like they were always kinda down on their luck?”

"Long as I've known them, yeah." Methodical in his work, Kayce goes about setting up the grill while the two men talk. He'd always thought of Jack Daniels as an unofficial uncle right up until the day he realized he was in love with Janie, and it had saved him a whole heap of fears that seemingly all of his friends had gone through with their own fathers-in-law. "Anyway, the two boys are just out of high school. They've been helping us during the season for years and gettin' pretty good with the work, so we were glad to take them on full time."

“I trust you made a good decision then.” Kayce has always had a good head on his shoulders and thought about the future. “You’ve done a damn fine job runnin’ this place.”

"We need everything to be running smoothly." The sheepish grin that Kayce flashes his father-in-law is broad. "Three kids is going to be a lot of energy running around this place and until they're old enough to be helping hands themselves, Janie wants to make sure I have the hands I need."

“Three—” Jack stops, a grin immediately blooming across his face and he reaches out to slap Kayce on the back. “Pretty soon you’re gunna have your own baseball team out here.” He chuckles, proud about another grandchild. “Anyone else know yet?”

"Not yet." Puffing up proudly, Kayce leans back on the porch railing and lets his smile take over. "Jane wants to tell everyone at once, but I figured...it's your birthday. Getting to be the first to know is like an extra gift."

“It damn sure is.” Jack beams, nodding in agreement. “‘Though I’ll let her think you didn’t say a word.” He promises, looking off towards the Daniels plot. Where Abigail and Timmy are resting. “Been thinking about things for a while.” Jack admits after a moment of silence between them. “I want to make sure that the trust for the ranch is in yours and Jane’s hands. Completely take it over.”

He wants to say that it isn't necessary. That he doesn't mind working for his wife's father. Because he doesn't – not really. It's a big company and a big responsibility to have the running of the whole thing. But Kayce also knows he can manage it now. After a whole childhood of watching his father run the family farm and being privy to all the ins and outs of Daniels Ranch, he and Jane can handle a big family and an even bigger business. They have the right know how and support system for that. "I'm honored that you trust us with the legacy," is what is says instead, looking to Jack with a nod. "This place is a hell of a responsibility and you know we take that seriously."

“I know you do, which is why you and Jane are the right fit for this place.” Jack huffs. “Something about working for yourself that makes it extra satisfying too. You – you have the spirit of a Daniels.”

"It helps that you were there every summer while I was growing up." Though the visits were never too long they always happened, and the two families had been close for practically Kayce's entire life. Getting visits from his grandparents' good friends had just been a thing that happened and it never seemed odd to him – and then he broke his arm in peewee football and all hell broke loose in their families as people started celebrating the fact that he'd have a scar from the surgery to fix it.

“It took a long time to be able to come back here. Your granddaddy’s sister used to love this place.” Of course Kayce knows the family history and respects it. “Figure that same blood runs through your veins as well. It calls to this place, and I’ve never had a doubt in my mind you were the perfect match for my little girl.”

"That little girl is a mischievous woman now." Moving while he talks means Kayce is pulling steaks from the cooler and counting things out to make sure he has enough of all the right cuts for the adults before he starts pulling out burger patties for the kids. "She's dead set on playing matchmaker for her brother. I keep telling her it'll happen when it's meant to."

“She just wants to see him happy.” Jack can’t blame her. She’s so settled in and focused on her life and the joy that she obtains from it, it’s not hard to want that for her little brother. “Plus, she likes to meddle. Too much like her mama.” He chuckles, turning and admiring you through the glass.

"Nothing wrong with that." After all, Jane's similarities to her mother were obvious just as easily as looking at her. "And I think...with being expecting again and all...she's enjoying the domesticity of the thing. First trimester's been a hell of a lot easier this time than with the boys, which has her thinking it might be a girl."

“A little girl.” Jack smiles and chuckles. “Oh I can’t wait to spoil her then.” He enjoyed having a little girl, and he knows Kayce will too.

“We won’t know for sure for a few weeks.” It doesn’t matter though; he knows he’ll love any child that he and Jane welcome into their family. “If it is, she’ll have two very protective brothers looking out for her.”

“Yes she will.” As rough as the boys could be, they were equally protective of each other. He has no doubt that would extend to another sibling. “She’ll hate it when she’s older.”

“She might,” Kayce admits with a laugh. “But her mama and I sure won’t.”

Jack can’t deny that, humming happily as he watches the meat sizzle on the grill. Life is damn good, especially for a man who never envisioned having this at one point in his life.

"You boys plotting the crime of the century out here?" When you stick your head outside to see how things are moving along, it's obvious that Jack and Kayce are just enjoying the afternoon together in peace, something that you're pleased to see every single time. "Kayce, your parents just got here, honey. Grandparents are on the way, they said."

“Yes ma’am, thank you.” Kayce nods towards you and then closes the lid on the grill. “We might as well go say hi. It’ll be a while.”

"Known the boy since he was in diapers, and he still calls me ma'am." You shake your head as Kayce walks past you into the house and hold your hand out to Jack. "Everything going well?"

“Everything’s coming up roses, sugar.” Jack hums, moving over to take your hand and pull you into his arms for a kiss. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

"Only twice." Decades later, you still melt a little every time Jack holds you tight. But it's still always so easy to tease him. "You're slipping a little, honey."

“Damn, I’ll have to tell you again.” He presses his lips to yours gently. “I love you, sugar. I wouldn’t have this life without you. I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you.”

"Happy birthday, Jack." Every year it got a little easier, until the bittersweet memories turned nostalgic and the day was no longer one to dread. Now it's a day for smiles and cake, for presents and playing with the kids – and then grandkids. It's a day that he's happy to wake up on instead of dreading. "I love you. So much."

“I love you too, sugar.” Jack promises, smiling at you. “And you’re gonna love our present today. It’s something for both of us.”

"Oh yeah?" You laugh a little, nudging your nose against his. "Did they replace the sleeper sofa with a great big, fluffy mattress for us?"

Jack snorts, shrugging. “I don’t know, that sleeper sofa is comfortable. And I’m not letting our daughter try to take it again.”

"I'm going to remind you that you said it was comfortable when you back hurts in the morning." It's just a little tease, but you can't help it. Enough years and decades with Jack and the joy in being together still hasn't faded from your relationship.

“I don’t think I’ll be complaining this time.” Jack predicts with a grin. “Only complaint you’ll get out of me is if she can’t have coffee in the house anymore.”

It takes a second, but your head tilts curiously just in time for the shit eating grin to spread across Jack's face. "No?" You're beaming right along with him in no time. "Number three? Really?"

“Just told me.” Jack nods. “He’s about to puff up out of his chest he’s a proud as a peacock.” He chuckles, knowing he had been just a proud when you were pregnant with Jane and Jackson.

"Are we the last or the first to find out?" Jane and Kayce have always been so proud of their family each time it's grown, you can't imagine that they wouldn't make a very big deal about letting people know. Kayce must have been busting at the seams to tell someone.

“The first.” Jack admits. “Kayce told me it’s because it’s my birthday.”

That earns him an amused giggle from you, and you shake your head fondly. "Granddaddy's privilege, that's what that is. Come on, love. Your daughter wants to know what else you want to do this week but hang around the house with the boys."

“Do you want to go with me to visit them?” Jack always asks. Even now. Never wanting you to feel uncomfortable, so it’s always a question. You’ve always come with him, but he won’t be upset if you wanted to stay and visit with Jane and the kids this time.

"Of course I do." He always asks, and your answer is always the same. "I've got to keep her updated on all the things you leave out of your stories." The gentle smile on your lips tips upward, and you lean forward to press your forward against his. "I know she's up there with Timmy and Grandma Jane and my parents looking down on us, but I still only get to talk to her once a year. It's tradition."

“It is tradition.” Jack smiles softly. “I want to be buried here.” He admits. “With you, if you want it. Surrounded by my soulmates.”

"I guess I always assumed you would be." In fact, no other alternative had ever really occurred to you. Not in all the years that have gone by. "It's your whole family up there. I always figured we would join them eventually."

“I didn’t know if you’d want that.” Jack won’t disrespect your own wishes. You have a say in this too.

Your fingers lace through his as easily as they did the very first time, and you let that soft smile warm through you. "I want to be with you. In this life and for whatever happens next."

“Whatever happens next.” The commotion inside causes him to turn towards the door and he grins. “Looks like Aiden and Sheila are here. Want to go say howdy?”

"We better, before Jane comes to get us." There's time to steal a quick kiss, but you're still smiling excitedly. "If she's waiting to tell everybody all at once, she'll be itching to give the news as soon as she can."

“Remember to act surprised.” Jack smacks your ass playfully as he guides you towards the door. “And I still want some birthday sex later on.”

He manages to get a little chirp of surprise out of you, and you just laugh. "Of course, cowboy."

“Damn straight.” Re-entering the house to join the chaos, hugs and back slaps are exchanged. Aiden’s claims that Jack’s getting old are countered by good natured ribbing about how only one of them is a great-grandparent. A testimony to how far Jack had come in his journey to healing from the loss of Abigail and Timmy.

You help Jane pass drinks around, still an entertainer at heart, and pretty soon even the kids have settled a little. "So, of course we know that everybody is here for Dad's birthday dinner," she beams at her assembled family, smile burning even brighter when you go to sit next to Jack and Kayce takes your place by her side. "But we just wanted to say thank you for coming and...give everyone a little bit of news."

Jack manages to school his expression to look just as expectant as everyone else around the table. “What’s goin’ on honey.”

The boys look positively bored, but Jane smiles at her young sons and beams out at the rest of her family. "Well..." She blows out a breath and squeezes her soulmate's hand. "In about seven and a half months...Jamie and Carter are going to be big brothers."

The squeals of happiness and gawfs of surprise are loud, making it a rush to jump up and hug Jane and shake Kayce’s hand or slap him on the back. The comedy of the scene is your two young grandsons clamoring to get to their mother as soon as possible, with five-year-old Jamie placing both hands on Jane's belly and informing his three-year-old little brother in his wisest tone possible that the baby can hear everything as long as you talk right at Mommy's belly button.

"At least he's chosen that as the speaker and not something else," you joke, going to put your arms around Jane and give her a tight hug. "Congratulations, Janie. You must be completely over the moon, huh?"

“Excited and wondering what the heck we were thinking.” Language is censored for the boys, considering Jamie had informed the youngest that ‘son of a bitch’ was the pain when you hurt your hand.

“You were thinking how much you love the baby phase,” you stifle a laugh so the boys don’t overhear. “They’re adorable before they learn ‘no’.”

“That word is going to be banned.” She rolls her eyes and laughs, still beaming as her hand caresses her stomach.

“I’m going to take you out for a little pampering while I’m here,” you promise her, remembering how much work two little ones was. She’ll be in it deep with three. “Shopping, eating out, even a pedicure while you can still see your toes. Mom and daughter day. What do you say?”

“That sounds wonderful.” Jane would never suggest that you leave Kentucky, the restaurant still your baby, but sometimes a girl just needs her mom. Especially when she’s pregnant.

“A whole day. Your Dad and brother can hang back with the boys or help Kayce out on the ranch.” Laying a kiss in her hair, you end up sniffling back a few proud tears. “You’re an amazing mama, Janie. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, mom.” Jane hugs you again. “I will take that as the highest of compliments coming from you. You set the bar very high.”

“We come from a long line of good moms. We got lucky that way.” Pressing a kiss to her hair, you step back before you can get too emotional, and wipe an errant drop of water from your cheek. “Gettin’ sentimental in my old age,” you joke. Everyone is well aware that you’ve always been sentimental.

“I want you and dad to come out when the baby’s due.” Jane automatically requests, just like you have been present for the others. She knows it’s a given, but you also don’t push and want her to call the shots.

“If you want us there, consider it done.” You hadn’t missed the births of your first two grandchildren and you certainly wouldn’t miss the third.

“I do.” Jane grins. “I think this might be the last one, from us anyway.”

“And three is a wonderful number. You’ll always be busy and you’ll have a house full of love for a very long time to come.” The way she just radiates happiness doesn’t make the wheels turning in her mind, though. You’re her mother. You taught those wheels which direction to move in. “But go easy on your brother, okay honey? He’s doing amazingly at the restaurant and he’s happy there.”

“I won’t say a word.” She promises. “I’m just worried about him.”

“I know, honey.” Spending half your lifetime always worried about your children because you love them means you have complete sympathy for that. “But he’ll find who he wants to be with. Soulmate or otherwise.”

“You’re right. I know.” Jane looks over at where Jackson is talking to Kayce’s grandparents and smiles. “As long as he’s happy.”

******

It’s that evening when you park the truck on the hill on the east side of the property, absorbing the last of the August sunshine as you both step out of the cab to visit Abigail and Timmy. It’s almost like going to see an old friend after so many years of this, and you still take Jack’s hand in yours to give it a supportive squeeze before stepping up to the matching headstones.

There is now a bench off to the side, allowing for a lengthier visit, or for Jack to sit down if his back is sore. “Hey, sweetheart.” Jack smiles as he sees how neatly Kayce has kept the family plot. He and Jane had taken over the flower gardens planted around the two headstones since Aiden wasn’t able to come out as often as he had when he was a younger man. “Told you that we’d be back.”

He says it every time, as though Abigail was there raising an eyebrow in surprise to see him, and you always chuckle a little. “Brought you a daisy,” you murmur as you put the flower down - your own tradition that has never faltered. “And some news.”

“Of course you’re gunna tell on me.” Jack teases, although he’s very aware of what news she’s bringing. “Timmy, you’re bein’ good for your momma, aren’t ya?” He asks, his heart aching like a tiny little arrow pierced it at the thought of his first baby boy.

Sometimes over the years, you could have sworn that a breeze came at just the right time to be an answer, or that you felt a flash of cold even in the August heat. Sometimes you could have bet your life on hearing a faraway voice. But it’s always a comfort to be here for your visit. “Of course he is,” you nod, squeezing Jack’s hand.

“I know.” Jack murmurs softly. “Wish I coulda seen what kind of man he woulda become.”

“He’d be thick as thieves with his brother and sister, and a mountain for his nephews to climb on, just like Jackson.” Of course Timmy would be older by now – outgrown the nickname and become Tim or Timothy – but you can’t help picturing him the same age as your own two kids.

“Yes he would have.” Jack chuckles and closes his eyes, imagining it as he holds your hand.

"Not a whole lot has changed this year, Abby." You've taken to speaking to Abigail so conversationally that sometimes you slip a little and call her Abby like an old friend. "But Janie just let the family know that she's expecting again. It'll be all any of us talk about for the next seven months."

“We’re getting older too.” Jack admits, feeling his age today for some reason. He’s lived twice the years without his first wife and son than he had with Abby. “Slower. You’d laugh at my groans getting up.”

"He sounds like a creaky mattress," you tease, imagining that you can hear the sound of a laugh in the wind.

“It’s what happens when you put my body through the rigors of being an agent for so long.” Jack rolls his eyes but he’s grinning at you. “Still think both of you would be given me hell if you knew one another.”

"I have no doubt." Lifting your connected hands, you press a kiss to Jack's cracked knuckles. There’s more time spent, laughter shared and small snippets of life from the Statesman grounds. Nearly an hour passes before you say your goodbyes and Jack leads you back to the truck.

"Gets harder to get into this thing every year," you laugh, letting your frustration at having to hoist yourself into the tall truck roll off your shoulders instead of getting upset about it. Approaching old age is a privilege that you don't take lightly.

“We might have to get one of those trucks with the fold down steps.” Jack snorts, smirking at you.

“Or convince our daughter to have one vehicle on the ranch that is less than five feet off the damn ground,” you huff good-naturedly. “I might never have been an agent, but I’ve still done a number on my knees.”

“All that runnin’ around in the kitchen.” Jack pats your knee fondly and looks at you before he starts the truck up. “I love you, sugar.”

“I love you, too, honey.” It’s not as easy as it used to be to lean over and give him a kiss, but you still manage it. “Let’s go back home and see the kids.”

“Yes ma’am.” He smiles softly and puts the truck in gear after he starts it. “Been thinking about maybe sneaking you off to the old foreman’s cabin.” Jack hums playfully. “Since it’s empty now.”

“Oh yeah?” The suggestion makes you chuckle, so glad that the attraction between you has never waned. “We could do that.”

“Yeah.” He might not be able to set a pace that completely wrecks you or pushes your – no longer needed – IUD out of place, be he can still make you shake in pleasure.

You hum, watching him as he drives back down the hill toward the main house. "I guess I know what we're doing tomorrow then."

“Still not too old to chase you around the bedroom.” Jack teases, winking at you playfully. His dark hair is nearly white and his craggy wrinkles are much deeper than they had been when you met, but he’s still the same cowboy.

Kissing the back of his hand again, you sit back in your seat and chuckle softly. "I sure as hell hope not. Though I don't know how fast I'm up to running these days anyway."

“It’s been a good day.” The setting sun off to the west is always a view he has loved, going back to when he was just a little thing running around this land. “The perfect birthday.”

"You say that every year." With varying degrees of sarcasm at certain times, of course. But today he seems as sincere as ever. And he's right – at least this time. It really has been a fairly perfect day.

“I mean it to.” He insists. “I’m a blessed man, sugar.”

"You're just excited to have a new grandbaby," you tease, giving his hand a squeeze. Of course you believe him - that he loves his life and feels blessed by it - but you also know for damn sure that a good part of his giddiness comes from that good news. As it should. Being a grandparent agrees with Jack.

“Of course I’m excited to have a new grandbaby.” Jack huffs. “I never expected to have a baby for the longest time, let along three grandbabies. Especially not with another soulmate. I’m damn blessed by you.”

That softens you and you lean against Jack's shoulder as he drives. "I love you, too, honey."

The silence between you is soft, welcomed like a warm blanket. So much time together had been spent that he can almost hear your thoughts. “When we find out what they are having, I want to see what kind of specialty dessert you’re gonna make for the restaurant.” Every one of the kids and grandkids have their own dessert that’s featured during their birthday month.

"Janie said she's been craving onions." Both of you chuckle as he pulls the truck into the driveway of the main house. "So I don't know if it will be a dessert this time. Maybe a tart or an onion tarte tatin."

“Interesting.” Jack chuckles. “If it’s a little girl, she’s gonna be a spitfire.”

"Because would be so unusual for a Daniels." The expression on your face is nothing short of amused. All of you are well aware that spitfire is a description that could apply to anyone in your family.

“Absolutely.” He agrees. “We’re just so…boring.” His eyes slide over to watch your reaction. “No passion.”

"None." You shake your head as solemnly as you can manage, barely keeping your face schooled into something serious. "We are a complete blank canvas. No emotions or opinions whatsoever."

“That’s us.” His chuckles can’t be contained now, rolling out freely as both of you describe everything the Daniels family is not.

"Come on, my love." Unbuckling your seatbelt and stretching, you lean over the center console again to kiss him. "I want to cuddle up with my passionless husband and watch a movie with our kids before bed."

“Sounds like the perfect ending to the best day.” Jack hums, counting his blessings for how lucky he is.

******

In the years since Jack had died, it hadn't made any sense to stay in Louisville. Working the line – or even front of house – at the restaurant was too physical to be sustainable for you and the place was running brilliantly in Jackson's capable hands. It turned out that his soulmate really was a Statesman agent, and you had watched your son take on much the same life that you had lived happily, with his husband.

Retirement had given you options, of course, but you hadn't wanted to be apart from Jack, so you had readily become a full-time grandma on the ranch in Montana. Every day saw another trip to the cemetery on the hill and spending time with your growing grandchildren. Six years went by almost in the blink of an eye, except for the ache of missing your soulmate. That never seemed to dissipate no matter how many wonderful memories you held on to. It lived in your heart each day to be swallowed down like a bittersweet pill, until the day that you had laid down for an afternoon nap and closed your eyes for the very last time.

“Hello sugar.” Jack’s smile is brilliant, young. The lines old age had given him are smooth, the dark spots on his skin clear, his stooped posture straight as he stands in front of you, looking just as hale and hearty as the day he had met you. Holding out his hand, he helps you up from the bed and pulls you into his arms. “I have missed you. So much, but I’ve been watchin’ over you.”

“Jack.” When you can practically jump up out of the bed and into his arms, there is no question of what’s happened. The moment holds only the barest pain, knowing what you’re leaving behind, but the joy you feel at being reunited with Jack completely outweighs it. “Honey, I missed you.”

“I was with you every step of the way.” Jack promises, right before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss that has been sorely missed in the past six years. Watching you and ghosting a kiss over your skin isn’t the same as you knowing it’s him.

“What happens now?” If you had ever worried that you would feel fear in this moment, that worry is soothed instantly by the fact that it’s Jack here to show you what comes next. Or maybe this is all it is, and kissing him really is your own private heaven like you always said.

“Well…sugar, there’s someone that wants to meet you.” Jack murmurs, pulling away and looking behind him with an equally brilliant smile.

“Finally.” A sweet, soft voice has a hint of a happy giggle in it. Abigail steps forward, looking beautiful and healthy although she is not rounded with child. She had appeared to Jack as she had been before the pregnancy. “I have so much to thank you for.”

“Abigail!” There is no question of who this is – you had seen so many pictures of her in your life that you recognize her as an old friend as the two of you fall into a deep embrace. “I didn’t think— maybe I should have— I’m so glad to finally meet you.” Though you can feel sobs shake you a little, there is no sadness. It’s more of a powerful wave of relief that washes over you in this moment.

“I wanted to come. I needed to make sure you know how much I appreciate you.” There’s no jealousy, no bitterness that you spent more time with Jack than she had. There is nothing but joy and elation at finally greeting the woman who has shown her so much kindness and respect. Abigail pulls back and smiles at you while Jack watches the exchange.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit, feeling a little overwhelmed by the moment. Without fear, you’re left to simply adjust to whatever this next step is. “I’m just glad it’s the two of you here.”

Nodding, she steps back and allows Jack to take your hand. “Sugar, we will always be here.” He promises, and points with his other hand to the side. “And we can always watch over the kids and grandkids.”

You nod, taking Jack’s hand firmly in yours before reaching for Abigail with your other. Though you had never expected her to come, it’s an enormous comfort that she’s here. “I’m ready.”

Jack grins at you and winks. “Ready to go down another rabbit hole with me, sugar?” He asks, overjoyed that he gets to spend eternity with both you and Abigail. His soulmates.

“As long as I get to be with you, we can go anywhere you like.” It’s what you hoped for, when you thought of this moment, and the fact that it’s come true means you’re ready for anything.

“Then let’s get this train a movin’.” Jack squeezes your hand. “Heaven awaits.”

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

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My Masterlist!

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

[no-psi-nan]

Chapter 11!

#read-saiki #read-saiki-11