#rating things said about my adventure cat

[monster-energies]

always a woman

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

pairing: severus snape/reader

summary:   severus snape had always fallen for every little trait of yours, you have always made his life feel like the warmest hug there is. you do everything to make him happy but now he feels its the right time to make you happy only in the best way possible.

warnings: the lightest of angsts, if you squint but other than that, all round fluff

rating: general audiences

ʚ♡ɞ please click here if you would like to be apart of my taglist

ʚ♡ɞ taglist: @insomniacaesthetic @eternal-silvertongued-prince @sevsssnape  @mirarenwick @diamondbitch116 @mamawolfsmith16 @nickangel13 @a-queen-and-her-throne @deepperplexity @amazingzou @yan-senna @yellowbadgermole @sevssillyincantations @alisongurl13 @inflation-of-mind @ilomessiah​ @maitre-de-marionnettes @impulse-anchor @multifandomgeeks @lady0fmischief

word count:   3048

this oneshot can be found on archive of our own

author’s note:

title's namesake: the song always a woman by billy joel

guys. she is back EVERYONE CLAP.

well i say i return but then i disappear due to writers block and creative burnout for almost a year 😐🧍🏼♀️ i would type out my authors note disappearing reasons, but i genuinely think i would be here all day BWHAHAHAH,,,,anyways this was a suggestion/request i saw on tumblr by  @wtfhasmy-lifecometo :  a severus snape x reader where the plot of the story is based off of the song “she’s always a woman” by billy joel… and have it all be fluff… and basically it would be severus’s pov and it would be him describing how much his wife means to him despite her “flaws” . and i've taken a bit of a twist with it but i feel it vibes with it. im going with vibes, slay. anyways i won't keep you for long so enjoy reading or whatever

no but genuinely though,  thank you very much for reading !! it means a lot to me that you support my fanfics, whether you're an old or new reader of mine you are apart of the most girlboss place there is. reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. have an amazing day 💖

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“severus we can worry about your scarf later, we don’t want it to rain now do we.” you called from downstairs.

severus had been fumbling around with said scarf for quite some time. he had been  rather nervous and he couldn’t entirely figure out why. then he looked over to the one thing that he had bought and had merely regretted seconds after purchasing.

it was so expensive he contemplated why he bought the final choice in the shop, but he knew.

his life was worth living from that point onwards.

once he adjusted his scarf one last time, he took it, placing it in his pocket before heading downstairs to see your face.

you had beamed and was quick to take a hold of his hand. as you opened the door, the mid-autumn breeze hit you both and a smirk hit severus’ face. autumn was always his favourite time, he loved the leaves changing colour and his ability to wrap himself in more coats and scarves. he always was equipped for the autumn and winter season.

you had both been in for a long day, however it would be a day that you both planned for ages.

neither of you were one for having long days outside, and even then you would need to recharge before you planned on stepping foot outside again. it was severus who brought the concept up, which had been very out of character for him to say the least.

what was there outside that required an entire 24 hours was beyond you. but this was your lover, and you couldn’t help but love the moments in which he found himself impulsive.

you and severus started at the local bookshop, taking in every aesthetic of the bookshelves around you. the shop had recently introduced some new animal friends, cats, pygmy puffs, and many others graced their way to the shop to keep fellow attenders company. you loved stroking and tending to every animal there as they accompanied you to your bookshop adventures.

severus hadn’t been too fond of the animals, however if they made you happy then he was happy. after going to the bookshop, severus made a visit to a small café nearby to pick up some of your favourite sweet things, you had grown suspicious once he had asked you to wait outside, as you always went in with him to pick up these delicacies. but you had shrugged it off, just severus being severus.

“ready to go my dear?” you asked. and he nodded.

you  both made your way to a field, walks wit severs snape were always the best activity to do with him, a lot of your dates prior to today were always consisted of a slow journey that had no purpose, only for you both to smell the fresh air and be in one anothers presence, especially after long days where you find yourselves far apart. night walks seemed to be severus’ favourite thing, but of course you didn’t protest to that.

once you both found a perfect spot, you set up everything and indulged in your little day out you both were very much enjoying. you laid your head on severus’ lap as you eyes gazed at the beautiful view ahead of you.

you had taken out your wand, aiming it to the grass that bestowed upon you both.

“expecto patronum.” you chanted with your wand and your glowing rabbit patronus hopped around you both, surrounding you and severus in a beautiful blue wire binding you both together.

“your patronus will always be my favourite y/n.” severus said. you couldn’t help but giggle.

“i suppose i can let my one free for a moment.” he said.

he took his wand out from his inside pocket, and had it pointed to the ground.

“expect patronum.” he chanted quietly.

but much to both of your shock, nothing appeared. puzzled, severus tried again but to no avail. mumbling the spell over and over again, he smacked his wand several times on his thighs, had he really grown out of his wand?

“god forsaken piece of wood!” he muttered to himself.

you couldn’t help but giggle at his multiple attempts, tapping the wand on his lap in hopes that the magic would possibly work, your smile soon turned to small laughs, but severus happened to catch onto your little laughs.

“this isn’t funny, silly girl.” severus said, ruffling the ends of your hair before you let out more laughs. enough to make his heart melt.

“i know.” you suggested, you dug through your pockets and found a flower crown inside and put it on severus.

severus now had been bewildered by this action, turning his head slowly only for his brow to be raised, which you clearly couldn’t take seriously, and had only made you laugh some more.

“and…how is this supposed to help me?” he asked.

“trust me! it will work, try it.” you said.

severus couldn’t help but roll his eyes slightly, in actuality he did enjoy the feeling.

when he tried the patronus spell once more, he saw it had taken the form of your patronus. a rabbit hopping in and around the fields.

he would always have this hint of shock that he shared a patronus with someone, it was a feeling he could never get used to. you couldn’t help but beam at his reaction.

“severus, your patronus…”

you were just as stunned as he was, neither of you had thought this would happen. your chemistry with one another had been stronger and stronger, from the moment you and severus had set eyes on one another, you had known it was nothing but destiny that had pulled you together.

severus turned to you and instantly grabbed a hold of your hands, by instinct. there was something in him that realised the moment was just right.

in fact it was more than ‘just right,’ it was perfect.

he was really going to do this now…

“y/n…i never thought i’d ask you such a question, but i fear i can’t contain my feelings any longer.” severus said.

“y/n m/n l/n…”

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

when severus had asked you to move into his home, not a single ounce of hesitance disappeared inside of him. he hated his home, he hated that he inhabited this place.

but he had no other choice but to at least maintain what little legacy he had (if he were to call it that.)

when you had settled in, you actually didn’t seem to mind spinner’s end and it had some sort of potential to it. severus constantly asked you how things were in the house, even the most mundane things he had constantly told you that it wasn’t the best but it was the best he could offer to you.

he feared that his best wasn’t entirely good enough for you, but you always did your best to reassure him that everything in his home was fine.

one day he had left for his job and you decided to do the things that snape had always promised to do in this house. you had planned it for a while, but had to find the perfect timing  and severus being away at hogwarts for the day seemed to fall perfectly in your plans.

you were in for a very long day ahead.

severus had always found the items in his home having a particular place in each room, he didn’t want anything to be changed or it wouldn’t have felt right to him. you had been very careful about that, you put everything into boxes so that they could be taken out later, and got round to deep cleaning the house from top to bottom.

severus had neglected the deep cleaning process, always at the back of his mind however, he never done so.

how could severus live like this? was all you could think about. considering how much neglect he had received from his father, that would have been one of the many factors.

once the deep cleaning was complete, you went to organize all of his books, they had a comforting feeling in your grasp. you took a note of how severus organized his shelves and followed it down to the point.

you had wanted to make this place at least worth coming home to for him. you had seen how miserable severus had lived his life and it hurt you to see that.

as the day went on you had been putting in the finishing touches of the house. you had rearranged the furniture slightly and as you had placed severus’ knick-knacks all over the house, it made you hope that he appreciated all you had done.

suddenly you heard the keys jangle outside and you bustled to the front door, quick to open it.

“sev! you’re back.” you squeaked slightly, shoving your entire body in his arm and peppering kisses all over his lips.

severus had been shocked at the sudden affection, he had never felt that he deserved such a thing.

“i’ve got something to show you.” you said excitedly.

you took his hand and there was where you showed him the house. a mixture of emotions wavered in, as you showed him all of the little details of the newly arranged home, severus couldn’t decipher the feelings he had in the moment.

you had shown him the ground floor of the house, the kitchen and the tiny hallway and then the living room.

his chair had remained the same, by the fire place. the bookshelves looked…new. for a fact he had known that the books on those shelves were nowhere near new.

you had been talking about the newly arranged desk, picking up some of his favourite quills here and there.

but severus said nothing.

that deadpan (with the added shock) expression remained, as you looked up to your lover you could tell he was going to explode at any second.

you frowned as you put down the quills, “i’m sorry…” you mumbled, walking past him and going upstairs. closing the door on the bedroom you shared, you cried quietly to yourself as you slumped on the floor.

then the door slowly opened again, through your glossy tears you saw severus.

he then did something you almost never saw him do before, he pulled you into his arms. it had been awkward at first but you warmed up to his touch, new tears dripping down your face.

“i’m so sorry…i should have asked you, it won’t…it won’t happen again.” you mumbled.

“why are you apologizing?” severus asked.

“because, i ruined your house. i thought it would be nice to give you something nice to come home to. but you don’t like it.” you sniffled.

you did all of that for him?

“why would you think i wouldn’t like it?” severus asked again.

“because you like everything to be the same. you don’t like changes, i did too much.” you said.

if anything, severus had liked the changes you made in his home. it felt like he had stepped into a completely different place and he grew to like it.

“darling…i do love it. you’ve done the one thing i wished i could do to this home, you have no need to be upset.” severus reassured.

that made you hug him even tighter, he could only smile only to himself. you both got up and continued your tour of the newly decorated home, rambling about the tiny items that meant a lot to the pair of you.

you even had dinner freshly made, and so you both sat on the floor by the fireplace, with plates of lasagne at hand. of course you made it and severus did in fact love your lasagne. you listened to  severus talk about his day, it warmed your heart that he was able to open up to you. that he felt accepted enough by you to talk not only of the past but the present also.

you had both finished your foods and now you had been in one another’s arms, staring intently at the fires crackling in between the woody piles. from time to time, you had exchanged small kisses but they were the ones that always made the moment even more special.

“how long do you think you’ll stay with me y/n?” severus asked.

“well…for as long as we want, unless you wish to have me around. i don’t want you to be bored of me” you answered.

“how could you say that? y/n i couldn’t get bored of you. not in the slightest.” severus replied, with zero hesitation.

it shocked him how easily the words seemed to flow out of his mouth, it would take him months, hell even years to say that to someone but with you it seemed to be so easy.

and it was.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

settling in at spinners end was like any other place for you. you seemed to enjoy the dark aesthetic of the small town, how it seemed to be secluded from everywhere else in england and everyone seemed to be in their own little bubble but yet everyone knew everyone.

you had lived there for a year at that point, you had wanted to go outside. you knew a forest that wasn’t far away from the home, it had been heavily raining over the last few days. you seemed to enjoy the aftermath of the heavy rain.

“severus!” you called.

you slid into his office, his head shot up.

“ah you are clearly dressed. get your coat, we are going outside.” you said as you then disappeared.

severus seemed to enjoy when you took control of the day, he enjoyed how different every day was. with no hesitation he grabbed his coat and his scarf and joined you downstairs at the front door.

you took hold of his hand and lead him outside, you held a basket on the other hand as you then handed severus the other side of your wired earphones.

“y/n you know i will never get used to your modern traditions.” severus said.

“oh come on sevvy, you can listen to music at the palm of your hands! just this once, pretty please.” you pleaded.

severus grabbed the earphone and put it in as he then found himself listening to some classic rock song.

“it’s my favourite song.” you said.

the song in question was from a classic rock band. he was not entirely well versed in music, nor did he have an interest in it. but it was that moment something switched in him, the rhythm of the song seemed to catch onto him.

you squeezed his hand a little tighter as the music played.

“you’re enjoying it!” you squeaked slightly as you noticed severus humming along to the song.

severus only smirked and pulled you closer as you paced closer to what looked like a forest. you were the one person that would convince him to have music in his life. severus never understood the concept of it and why people enjoy it so much, but whenever music was played around you his whole life seemed to change.

there was always a song he would associate with you, which made him appreciate you more and more by the second.

“i found the perfect spot.” you said once you arrived.

you both entered deeper into the forest until nothing but the top of the trees was all you could see once you looked up.

severus looked around the spot you mentioned, serenity was you could feel. you were at peace with him.

with every second severus was with you, the more entranced he was. oh how your hair swiftly followed the breezes of the spring time winds, and when the sun slowly followed after you had looked nothing but a piece of art to him.

you were always his work of art.

“oh severus look!” you called and got up instantaneously.

severus sat up slightly, only to have his eyes on you. his gaze not leaving you, he was loved undeniably.

you sat right next to him and there you had picked up a small rabbit.

“oh severus! look at its ears, its adorable.” you squeaked, stroking the rabbit that had sooner or later, gained your trust.

severus looked to the furry animal, stroking it slowly.

you tried to let the rabbit go.

but it later came back.

you let it go back to its home, but not even five minutes later it would come back to you and severus. even making its way to severus’ lap and sleeping.

“i think it likes you.” you giggled.

it was quite adorable you thought. severus becoming a father of a rabbit within five minutes of your date together.

you enjoyed severus softening slightly at the sight of animals, seeing him tend to a stray rabbit was something you didn’t see everyday, but perhaps this would mean something for the both of you later in the line of your lives.

you scoot to severus, resting your head on his upper arm, then slowly wrapping his arm around you, you both took in the scenery, soft breaths escaped your lips as parts of the sunlight hit the forest bestowed upon you.

you felt like you spend an entire life time with him if you could.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

“y/n…i never thought i’d ask you such a question, but i fear i can’t contain my feelings any longer.” severus said.

“y/n m/n l/n…”

“will you marry me?”

you couldn’t decipher the question and then it dawned on yo.

severus wanted to marry you. someone out there was willing to marry you.

tears flooded your eyes and dropped from your face, as you couldn’t see severus through your hazy vision of your sobs.

“yes…of course i’ll marry you.” you replied.

choked sobs escaped severus, putting the ring on you and embracing you into his arms and spinning you slowly.

“we’re going to get married.” you said barely louder than your normal voice.

“we really are.”

severus didn’t want to let you go in the slightest.

and it was in that moment that you were undeniably in love with severus snape.

#harry potter #alan rickman #severus snape #professor snape #pro snape #pro severus snape #snapedom #snape community #snape love #severus snape love #snape content #snape centric #severus snape one shot #severus snape oneshots #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape x reader #severus snape x female reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #professor snape x you #professor snape x reader #severus x you #severus x reader #snape x reader #snape x you #monster-energies fics

[strawwritesfic]

Rajesh Koothrappali x Female!Reader: Swallow

Summary: There’s a chance you won’t end up with as many cats as Sarah expects after all.

Rating/Tags: T (drinking; drinking in excess; designated driver; texting; meet-cute; bars; set when Raj couldn’t talk to girls; set before Penny and Bernadette getting married to their canonical spouses; Penny & Bernadette; Penny & Bernadette & Raj; reader & original characters; mild language)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: Yeah, I used to watch this show with my parents. I stopped way before them, but I got requests for some of the characters, so...Anyway, please keep in mind any references to Raj being foreign and all were my attempts to reflect the show itself, not actually my own personal views. Same with the dismissive references to nerd culture.

Swallow

“Ready? On the count of three. One…two…three!”

With a chorus of clinking and several shudders, three shot glasses hit the hard tabletop. The sound had barely faded when one of the surrounding girls started giggling. Five stops into this barhopping experience and someone was sure to snap sooner or later. Sure enough, the next words spoken were, “Shut up!” 

The giggling stopped.

“Wow, guys,” you said, as you gathered up the empty cups. “Much more of this and I’ll be peeling you all off the floor.”

“Shut up,” Sarah snapped again, which only caused Cassie to break out in another fit of giggles.

You lifted a single eyebrow, and she quieted quickly enough. Then again, that might have had more to do with the death glare that Sarah shoot her. Angry Sarah, silly Cassie…you were starting to get a bad feeling about this entire venture.

“Seriously. I think you’ve had enough. All of you,” you added at Jess’s blank fidgeting right across from you. 

The entire adventure was for her benefit, but she looked the least enthusiastic of the bunch. Letting her drink herself into oblivion sounded kind on paper, sure. Forcing her to get up for work the following morning with a raging headache? Not so much. You took her silence for agreement; unfortunately, your attempt to take pity on poor Jess went absolutely nowhere.

Cassie shook her head frantically. “Whaaaaat? You mean we have to go home? But that’s not fair, [Name]! That’s just not fair!”

“Calm down, Cass.” Sarah patted the distraught woman clumsily on the back. “[Name] can’t make us go anywhere.”

“She can’t?”

“I can’t?” you asked.

Sarah downed another shot, then threw you a wide grin that you liked the look of not at all. “Just because you’re the designated driver–”

“Because I have to be.”

“Shut up. You’re the last person to have a breakup before Jess, so it’s your turn. That’s how it works.”

“And when’s it gonna be your turn?”

“When I break up with Dan. Which I won’t. So shut up.”

“This is a load of malarkey," you muttered

“Maybe we should ask Jess,” Cassie suggested, turning to the blonde still staring morosely at the table. “You ready to go home, Jess?”

“I thought Jake was my Dan,” was Jess's mumbled reply.

“Not enough booze!” Cassie cried with barely concealed delight. She reached for another tiny glass. “Sorreeee, [Name].”

“What do you mean, not enough booze? She's practically crying already,” you said, as Jess’s eyes filled with tears. ”

“She has to drink until she forgets Jake or until the bars close,” said Sarah.

“Are you kidding me? You three are already drunk off your asses!”

“Them’s the rules,” Sarah’s smirk swiftly transformed into her typical drunken scowl. “Until you get yourself paired off with some guy, you’re the driver on these things. Consider it an incentive to not wind up the crazy cat lady of the group.”

“I only have one cat,” you pointed out.

“Oh! Oh! Didn’t you say you were thinking about adopting another?” Cassie asked.

You shot her a death glare of your own this time, though its effect was not as great as Sarah’s.

“Oopsie.”

Sarah was too far gone to find any amusement in this revelation. She rolled her eyes and slid her empty cup toward your growing collection. “You don’t want to sit here watching us drink, fine. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go get us another round?”

“Oooor you could work the room,” Cassie said as she handed her glass over to you as well. “There’s loooots of boys here, and I’m sure you could find at least one smart enough to tempt even yoooou, [Name]!”

“Oh, you’re sure are you?” Sarah said.

“I’m sure!”

“Yeah, well you were sure at the last bar, too. And the one before that. And the one before that.”

“So?”

“So your optimism is grating. Shut up.”

“I think you should shut up!”

“I don’t think so. Why don’t you…”

Sarah’s voice faded into the background as you moved away from your friends. By the time you got back, Cassie and Sarah were likely to be at each other’s throats with Jess in tears over it. 

Barhopping always sounded a lot more fun when you were the one drinking away a breakup. Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe it was time for you to find someone else. You weren’t still hung up on your ex anymore–far from it, the jackass–but sometimes another cat seemed more appealing then another guy. You had yet to meet anyone that really made you want to work at a relationship. A few dates here and there. Nothing serious.

The bartender didn’t seem all that thrilled at you returning his dirty cups, though you were grateful that he didn’t send you away. The last thing you wanted was to be drawn into a fight that would be completely forgotten in the morning. 

Turning on your stool, you made to face the indie band playing at the back of the bar. They weren’t very good, but they beat the tar out of whatever was going down back at your friends’ table. You figured you could give the lot of them twenty more minutes, and then they’d all be so annoyed with each other that they would agree to go home. Until then, crummy music and snatched bits of nearby conversation would have to do for entertainment.

“Come on, Raj. Go out and buy some girl a drink,” a shrill voice punctured the otherwise dull buzzing surrounding the bar. 

You glanced in the direction it came from without thinking to see a tiny blonde woman–even tinier than Jess–gesturing at the wide selection before her and her two companions. The nearest to you was another blonde, taller than the other and with an air of practiced charm, who did not speak up until she had finished whatever was in her bottle:

“Yeah, you don’t gotta marry her or whatever. Just practice talking to a few. Otherwise you might as well have stayed back with the guys playing Call of War.”

The man they were speaking to simply looked pained. He clutched a beer so tightly in his hand that you were surprised it hadn’t shattered. Why he was even there, you didn’t know. He didn’t seem to be having a good time, and it was pretty obvious that he wasn’t the designated driver. He wasn’t even dressed to be at a bar–then again, neither were you.

“Come on, Raj,” said the tinier one again. “You can talk to us, can’t you?”

Raj shook his head.

“Not enough booze,” she said in a stage whisper.

The taller of the two women rolled her eyes heavenward, then mussed her hair up with her free hand before making to disappear into the crowd. “I’ve got an audition tomorrow. We wait much longer to do this, and there’ll be no one left here worth meeting. Let’s go.”

“Right. Our racks’ll probably do a better job than a pet scientist anyhow.” The other took a step to follow her friend. She didn’t get very far before she stopped and turned back to Raj. “If you drink enough that you can use that tongue of yours, feel free to join us.” 

A nervous nod on his part, then she was off at a trot. The two girls passed by you closely enough that you distinctly heard her mutter:

 “As if that’ll ever happen.”

Now it was you, this Raj fellow, and a few other mostly silent patrons at the bar. As bad as the band was, it was still live music, and most people seemed more interested in that than sitting around waiting for someone to buy them a drink. Not that you needed a drink, since you had three stops to make on your way home, and not that Raj needed another one before he finished the one he already had. You sighed and tried to concentrate on the music, though you were pretty sure it was giving you a headache. How much longer until Jess passed out?

A few minutes passed before you looked over at Raj again. He was still there, still looking downcast. Every so often he would sway to the music. You felt for him, poor guy. This didn’t look like his scene at all, and it must have sucked being ditched by his girlfriends like that. Perhaps you were two peas in a pod for the time being. 

It might have taken you another five minutes, but finally you worked up the nerve to go over to him. His eyes darted to you and away not once, not twice, but three times as you walked toward him in the semi-darkness. Raj was kind of cute, in a dorky sort of way. Not the kind of guy you normally met at these sorts of venues. Perhaps not the kind of guy who wanted to meet you at these sorts of venues, since he looked outright terrified by the time you stopped in front of him.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly.

He took a gulp of beer.

“I’m [Name].”

Raj smiled. Your heart banged uncomfortably in your chest. Obviously this guy didn’t want to talk to you. Why not bail? But somehow the way the small woman had dismissed him earlier made you want to try harder.

“And you are?” you prompted him.

He opened his mouth. 

You leaned forward eagerly to catch whatever came out, and…

He closed it again. Raj closed his mouth and swallowed and smiled and bobbed his head, and then went on to stare past you, as though you were nothing more than yet another license plate on the wall. 

You were so disappointed that you couldn’t find it in yourself to move away for nearly thirty more seconds. Well, you thought as you walked off, at least you tried. Maybe now everyone would be ready to leave so that you could escape the site of your most recent embarrassment as quickly as possible. Your first time talking to a guy in months, and it had to turn out like that. Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe you were doomed to be the crazy cat lady.

“Don’t forget we have to pick up our pet scientist before we leave.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Would you quit worrying? He’s not even drunk. He can find his way home just fine. He’s not our child, Bernadette.”

You looked up at the familiar voices. The two women from before stood just a little bit in front of you, looking bored and a bit more pink around the edges.

Before you could stop it, your mouth was saying, “Um. Hey.”

They looked over at you in perfect unison. 

“Hi,” said Bernadette hesitantly. “Can we help you?”

Probably not. Almost certainly not. Why you were bothering, you didn’t know, but you took a step closer and nodded your head in the direction of the bar. “About your friend back there.”

The taller one frowned. “Who? Raj? What about him?”

“Does he speak English?”

They stared at you so hard that you wished you had never spoken to either of them. Then they burst into laughter. Having no idea what you had said that was so funny, you could only watch on, bewildered. What? He looked foreign. No big deal. Him not speaking English would explain a lot–and perhaps bolster your. confidence a little. 

No such luck. Bernadette recovered first: “Of course Raj can speak English,” she said, as though this were obvious.

“Oh, I just thought–he wouldn’t talk to me...”

“Oh, sweetie,” the larger woman said, leaning forward and patting your shoulder so hard that you nearly toppled over. “He can speak English. He just can’t speak to women.”

“What?”

But they were already moving past you. “Pity he can’t find enough alcohol here to get him to talk. That one was actually cute,” Bernadette said, just before they walked out of earshot. 

Cute? You looked back over at the bar. Raj remained there, still intent on swaying to the music.

“Hey, [Name]! You gonna help or what?” Sarah shouted at you.

Startled, you twisted around to see her and Jess struggling to keep Cassie on her feet. 

“Move your ass! We gotta get her home before she starts vomiting. It’s your car, remember?”

You remembered. Raj forgotten, you hurried over to take the brunt of Cassie’s weight. What with Jess and Sarah being so inebriated, they could only hinder the group’s slow and unsteady progress toward the door. What followed was another chunk of time dedicated to getting Cassie in the car and buckled in while the other two made jokes at her expense. 

You had finally got everyone settled in and were about to open the car door to get inside yourself when you spotted the same trio from before leaving the building. Raj looked more upset than ever, but what did that matter to you? He didn’t speak to girls.

Wait. Speak?

“[Name]!” Sarah shouted after you as you raced away from the car and toward Raj and his two friends.

“H-Hey! Wait up!” you called. 

They did, though you suspected this was because you looked like a madwoman, running up with your arms flailing above your head.

“Oh. It’s you,” said Bernadette. “Did you need something, or…”

“Raj!” you said, slightly out of breath after all the physical labor. 

The look on his face made it obvious that you knowing his name was not something he’d expected. He didn’t talk this time either, but he didn’t have to. 

You dove into your purse, resurfaced with a pen and paper, and quickly scrawled your name and number across the scrap. “Here.”

Looking confused, he took your bit of paper.

“Text me?”

Before you could get a straight answer, you scuttled off. You had to get Cassie home, after all. 

Bernadette’s said one last thing in her high voice before your car door shut behind you: “You better text that one, Raj! Before all that beer leaves your system!”

“What was all that about?” Sarah wanted to know.

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” you said as your vehicle left the bar parking lot. “Let’s be quiet for now. Wouldn’t want to wake up Cass and Jess.”

She made a scoffing noise, but did as you directed. The drive home was relatively quiet and uneventful–save, just as you came back from laying Cassie out on her couch, your phone buzzing in the cup holder. You allowed yourself a peek and grinned.

“Rajesh Koothrappali. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

#fan fic #straw writes #reader insert #second person pov #one shot #challenge fic #request #raj koothrappali #rajesh koothrappali #big bang theory #bbt #raj koothrappali x reader #raj koothrappali x you #raj koothrappali x y/n #rajesh koothrappali x reader #rajesh koothrappali x you #rajesh koothrappali x y/n #big bang theory x you #big bang theory x reader #big bang theory x y/n #bbt x reader #bbt x you #bbt x y/n #big bang theory reader insert #bbt reader insert

[wardenparker]

You, Me & Mexico

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

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16.9k Warnings: Mentions of deceased spouse and child (of course, it’s Jack), previous relationship, cursing, food mentions, alcohol consumption, aggressive use of a baseball bat, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Dad!Jack, unplanned pregnancy (after the fact). Summary: Moving to New York with your teenage daughter would have been a big enough change all on its own. But when your new next-door neighbor rings your doorbell, your whole world is about to get flipped upside down.  Notes: This silly little ‘What If?’ is inspired by our dear devotion to the Yeehonk Cowboy of Our Hearts, but also by the fact that I just got the results of my DNA kit back. Enjoy! 🤠🧡

Nothing ever stops moving from being stressful. Not the adventure, the chance to get away from that one annoying coworker in your office, not even being excited for the beautiful brownstone in the West Village that your grandmother left to you in her will. There's always things to worry about no matter how carefully you plan. What if something happens to your furniture on that moving truck? What if something important gets lost? Or left behind? What if the cat freaks out in his carrier because your fourteen-year-old has been playing the same song on repeat for the last two hours and the poor little ball of fluff just can't take it anymore? Thankfully, there doesn't seem to be any kind of horrific crisis with this move. At least not yet.

It's a sunny, cool morning in New York City and every passerby on the street seems happy to ignore your existence, leaving you to direct the movers as they bring the last of your things inside the biggest home you've ever owned. Mallory is already up in her room shoving furniture around to find the best configuration in her new room, and no doubt Astro is meowing his approval or disapproval with every change.

Getting settled will take a little time. New York City is nothing like anyplace you have lived before. But with a teenager who desperately wants to be a musician one day and the chance to actually own your own home? Asking your company for a transfer to the Manhattan office had been a no-brainer. "Maybe you'll meet somebody." Your mother had said, when you had told her you were moving. "There's so many men in New York City!" But you had insisted that the only man you needed in your and Mallory's life was your tomcat, and left it at that. There's just no use in pretending that you haven't compared every man in the last fourteen years to the man who gave you your daughter.

******

Groaning, Jack opens his eyes to the sounds of people working outside. Not unusual for a city that is constantly busy, but this is right outside his windows. Right. New people are moving in next door. The sweet old lady that had been his neighbor in passing for the last six years had died. Apparently leaving her house to her granddaughter. Sighing, the Statesman agent rolls out of bed and shuffles towards his bathroom. His body aches and he feels every day of his forty-one years after the beating he had taken on his last mission. For the first time since he had become an agent, Jack Daniels was looking forward to sitting at the office.

******

"Last load." One of the movers tells you, carefully pulling his hand-truck loaded with boxes marked Master Bedroom up the ramp they laid over your front steps when everyone arrived this morning.

“Thank you so much.” At this point there's nothing left for you to do but haul yourself inside, and you take a moment to lean against your front steps and really take it all in. The three-floor brownstone is sandwiched in the middle of a fully populated street and your grandmother's little window boxes are crammed full of cooking herbs and pansies that give the house a welcoming feel. You'll definitely keep those, you think, looking up and down the length of the building. But maybe not the faded floral curtains just inside.

******

The inside of his brownstone had been updated when it was chosen as his residence in New York. Modernized and filled with Statesman technology, but the thing he loves most is the walk-in shower. The hot water on demand beats down on the blooming bruises that ache and the stiff joints. He’s getting old, a realization he hates when he’s lived for the job for twenty years, since he lost the reason for living for someone else. The only other bright spot when he got down in his feels was the month-long interlude to his grief that is something he looks back on with fondness of an old love.

******

It's more than a half an hour later when the movers are vacating your new home, and you can hear Mallory happily crowing inside about having her own bathroom. For a teenager, finally having her own bathroom separate from her mother is the absolute epitome of privacy, and it makes you smile to hear her happy about something relatively simple. She had had to leave her few friends behind to start fresh in the big city, but you're not worried about her making new ones. She had her father's charm, for better or for worse, and people are drawn to her just like you were drawn to him fifteen years ago. With a contented sigh, you pull out your phone to take a few pictures of the front of the house now that it's officially home. You promised your mom that you would send them, after all. At some point today you'll have to search out the nearest grocery store, but not this very moment.

Getting dressed, Jack wonders about the new neighbor. He had been nosy, looking out the windows and saw evidence of a kid, at least a teenager. He chuckles to himself, wondering if the newest residence had been told about the raccoon that frequents the back gardens between the houses and loves to raid the trash cans. As he buttons up his dress shirt, he decides that after work, he’ll be neighborly and introduce himself.

 Three Weeks Later:

"Mal, take the groceries in through the kitchen door, sweetie, not the front door." Once a week grocery trips to the market have been a whole different experience than your old chain grocery store used to be, but now you've got a bunch of bags of fresh things that are brand new favourites to fill your kitchen with. The trick is to remember that you technically have two front doors here, and the old servants' entrance to the 120-year-old brownstone leads directly into the kitchen, so you don't have to climb your front steps to go into the parlour-level front door and then down the stairs inside to get to the kitchen.

No neighbors have emerged to introduce themselves in the time since you moved in, but you figure that's just New Yorkers keeping to themselves and you don't worry about it. Mallory's school year has begun and even with the change of location, work is just work. New York isn't feeling all too different from anywhere else so far, except for the neighbors being less nosy. And honestly? That's just fine with you. Tonight you're making Mal's favourite dinner to celebrate finally unpacking the last box, and that required a big grocery trip. You're not inclined to skimp, though, because you really would do anything for your little girl. Even if she's a lot less "little" then she used to be.

******

Living in the city had taken some time to get used to. He was comfortable here now, enjoying the way that he had convenience to everything, but he missed the sense of community he had in Kentucky. While they were spread out, people waved and talked and asked about the family when they saw one another. Here, he didn’t see his neighbors, still not having gotten a look at the new ones that had moved in three weeks ago. That’s partly his fault, getting caught up at work had made it easy to continuously put off going over and introducing himself. So he’s making up for it.

The large white box in his hand holds a selection of – in his opinion – the finest bakery selections in the city. Which is saying something. Jack pops up the steps of the neighboring brownstone, his knees protesting creakily, and rings the bell.

It's surprisingly easy to hear the doorbell from downstairs in the kitchen, although you don't know anyone who would be ringing it. Maybe this is your first taste of door-to-door proselytizing that you never got living in small towns. "I'll be right back," you tell Mallory before hustling up to the front door. When you peak through the peephole in the door there's a man standing on your front step but his back is turned, so you just figure what the hell and pull open the door. "Hi. Can I help you?"

Jack turns around, the charming, easy smile on his face freezing when he comes face to face with you. You’re older, he can tell, but the time has been good to you. Dumbfounded for a moment, he gasps out your name, wondering suddenly if he’s gotten shot in the damn head again and is dreaming.

“Jack?” Swearing you could faint right there on the spot; you swallow down the panic crawling up your throat and try to quell the shock on your face. Of course it’s him. You see those eyes and that smile every single time you look at your daughter. “H—how…I mean…what—what are you doing here?” He has a box in those large hands that you used to know so well, and there are more crow’s feet around those questioning eyes, making you wonder if he came here intentionally. If that goddamn kit you did with Mallory might have sent him to your doorstep somehow. God, how did he get even more handsome? That’s not fair…

“Me? I – you live here?” Jack asks, trying to overcome his surprise at seeing you again. He can’t help but think you are still gorgeous.

“Just moved in.” Still in your work clothes and not yet dressed for comfort, you step outside and pull the front door mostly shut behind you. You can still hear inside if you need to, but this way Astro can’t make a break for it. “How did you find me?” After all, you had searched for years and never managed to find a single trace of him. Not that you knew much in the first place.

The truth is, he didn’t find you. He purposely never went looking for you, not wanting to see the life that he wasn’t a part of. He had been so messed up from Allita’s death, losing his unborn son, that he had vowed to never find that kind of love again. So when he had found himself missing you, he had sworn that he would never go looking. And he hadn’t. “I— uh, well—” Jack flashes you a small smile, as if it was just the most unusual thing. “I’m your neighbor.” He admits, turning to point to the townhouse right to your left. “Lived here for years. Did you— were you related to Mrs. Jones?”

There was a hopefulness alongside the worry in your heart that you hadn’t felt until just now – as it twists in your chest and extinguishes completely. He hadn’t found you at all — this was all an accident. “She was my grandmother.” You tell him honestly, winding your arms around yourself like a shield. “She left me the house when she died.” It was a generous gift, of course, and caused a small amount of family drama, but your grandmother’s will was specific: the West Village brownstone that she had lived in for almost her entire adult life was to go to you and Mallory. “You…uh…you knew her?”

“Not well.” Jack admits, shamefaced. “Work keeps me busy, but I would help her when she needed something moved or when the damn raccoon got trapped in her cans.” He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, bowled over by the fact that he didn’t know his sweet, older neighbor was your grandmother. Remembering the box, he offers it to you. “Here, this was supposed to be a welcome to the neighborhood gift.” He tells you. “Meant to come introduce myself when you moved in, but – life.” He shrugs as if it’s not a big deal, his stomach clenching at your mere presence. Especially since he remembered there being a teen’s stuff among the moving boxes. He wants to ask about your husband, but he’s afraid he will hate the man on principle alone.

“Raccoon in the trash cans. Got it.” You nod vaguely, not even sure if you want to accept the otherwise very neighborly gift of whatever is in that box marked with a bakery’s logo. Your head is spinning and your throat is dry and you can swear you hear Mallory downstairs calling for you. “That’s—” But can you even bring yourself to explain? “I gotta go,” you mumble instead. The box has somehow made it into your hands, and you feel like a retreating wild animal fleeing the scene. “Thanks for stopping by, I guess.”

“Bye.” Jack stares after you for a moment, bewildered by how quickly you had turned and fled. The immediate happiness of seeing you again turns to confusion and then sours in his stomach. Wondering if you were upset with a past lover being so close to your family. Jack sighs and shoves his hands in pockets, turning around and walking down the steps. Maybe it was going to be better to just be those neighbors that didn’t speak.

The panic attack that comes as soon as you shut the door is not small, and it’s not something you can hide from your daughter when she comes running up the stairs at the sound of her mother crying. “Mom?” She bends down, taking both of your shoulders in her hands and checking you over the same way you used to do with her when she was small. “Who was it? What happened?”

“I—it—” You hiccup back more tears, trying to calm yourself down. “It’s fine, Mal. I’m fine. I just had a tough day at work.”

“That’s bullshit.” Proclaims your headstrong teenager, who has hopped up and grabbed her baseball bat from the umbrella stand by the front door. “You were in an amazing mood five minutes ago.” She’s faster than you, obviously, and pulls the door open to find whoever it was that upset her mother. The only person she sees is the next-door neighbor opening his front door and she fumes. “Hey Asshole!” She screams out, raising the bat.

“Mallory, stop!” You’re too late by a mere hair – unable to pull her back inside before Jack has made eye contact with his daughter.

Jack freezes, his entire body locking up and he couldn’t move if he wanted to. If he had been in danger, he’d be dead. Not that there isn’t significant danger from the teenager, an enraged expression on her face as she charges towards him with a baseball bat. Jesus…she…she looks like him. Jack staggers back slightly at the dark eyes, furious with the same calculating expression he’s seen in his own mirror. But what gets him – the ears. Her ears are curled back on the edges.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Jack yelps, looking past her to where you are wide eyed with terror. “You had my kid?!”

It’s Mallory’s turn to freeze now – raised bat dropping to her side like cement as she looks at the man on his front step and then back at you. “Mom?” Her voice is small – almost scared – and you swear the last time she sounded so helpless, she was six years old.

“Everybody in the house.” You direct, in a voice that will not compromise. Waiting until Mallory has passed you and gone inside to look Jack square in the eyes. “I had my kid. You were nowhere to be found.”

Jack grinds his teeth, angry – furious that you had a fucking child and he didn’t know about it. “So that’s how it is?” He demands, the wounds that he had managed to start to close that month with you torn open, a bleeding mess on his heart. He has a child he never met – never knew existed – until she called him an asshole. “It wasn’t like you left a number for me to get up with you either.”

“At least you knew my last name.” You counter, clenching your jaw as he steps up to your front door for the second time. “I knew your first name, a dubious last name, and Kentucky. And it turns out that that not enough for a birth certificate.” All you can do in this moment is shake your head, the weight of fifteen years of missing him far outweighing any residual anger. It was a month, and you were only twenty-one. You had never considered that what you felt for him was real love, or that your life would be so completely changed. “Just…come inside and meet your daughter. Or don’t, if you don’t want to. But can we – please, I’m honestly asking – can we save being mad at each other for when she’s not around? She shouldn’t have to hear whatever you think of me.”

He stares at you for a moment and sighs, remembering that he ‘hadn’t’ given you his last name. Or – he had, but you had been convinced it was fake. And it wasn’t like Jack Daniels was a name people would honestly take seriously if inquiring about it. “I’m not mad.” Jack huffs and shakes his head. “Okay, I’m mad, but I’m more upset than anything.”

“You can be upset with me when she goes up to do her homework.” It’s the best you can offer, knowing that Mallory deserves honesty and truth as much as either you or Jack does. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got to throw at me. But…none of it is Mallory’s fault. She’s innocent.”

“Her name is Mallory?” He’s quiet, still trying to process all of this. He’s also a little hurt there’s you think he’s going to punish a child for something she had nothing to do with.

“Mallory Paige.” When you step back inside, the teenager in question is sitting on the bottom of the stairs that lead to the second floor with her cat in her arms and the bat nowhere to be found. “And her best friend there is Astro.”

Mallory is practically beside herself when you close the door, looking between you and Jack with so many questions that she doesn’t know where to start. Well – yes she does. Her mouth is just so dry that she can barely get the words out. “Is…is he…really my dad?”

“Yes, honey.” You sigh softly and nod your head, both hands shoving into your pants pockets nervously. “This is Jack.”

Jack stares at her for a long moment. So many things, different traits from you, from him, have made such a beautiful young woman. He wants to touch her, to make sure she’s real, but he’s a stranger to her. “Jack Daniels.” He tells her quietly. “You have my ears.” The twitch of his mustache is a small smile, pleased and nervous.

“And eyes. And smile.” Mallory nods, her voice as quiet as his is. “I mean…I think. At least…that’s what mom says…” She hasn’t really seen much of a smile from the man in the three minutes she’s known him, so she can’t tell.

“Yeah?” That does make Jack grin, rocking back on his heels and looking between you and Mallory. “I still say you look like your momma. Thank the good Lord. Least you don’t have my nose.”

“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” The offer is an olive branch to Jack, since you were already planning on cooking and it’s that time of day. “Maybe we can all talk while I’m cooking?”

“Only if you are okay with it.” Jack looks back over at you again, aware that you are not happy with him and his reaction to the news. He wasn’t exactly proud of it, but he also knows you don’t know the full truth of why he was single when the two of you met.

You’re not entirely sure if you are okay, but being heartsick isn’t an excuse to deprive them of knowing each other now that they have a chance. You try for a smile instead, finding it’s waterier than you’re proud of, and you pick up the bakery box from the side table where you had managed to leave it before nearly collapsing in the entry way just a few minutes ago. “Mal got an A on her first Spanish quiz of the year and we finally finished unpacking. We’re celebrating with chicken parmesan.”

“Nice.” Jack nods in approval and looks over at Mallory. “You like chicken parm? It’s one of my favorites.” He doesn’t know what to do, or what to say so he nods towards the bakery box. “That place has the best cookies and Danishes around. I brought you quite a few of them.”

“Mom makes the best.” Mallory takes the box from your hands as the three of you troop down the stairs to the kitchen. “Chicken parm, I mean. Not cookies. Mom’s cookies are like rocks.”

“Hey!” You groan, huffing a little at being ratted out so early in this conversation. “They’re not always rocks.”

“Nah.” Mallory laughs and grins at the man who is apparently her father. Now that she’s had it pointed out, she can see her ears on him, and even her crooked smile. “Sometimes we just eat the dough so you can’t ruin them.”

“I have been known to eat cookie dough myself.” Jack chuckles. “I buy those Tollhouse logs and it’s me and a spoon when I’m feeling the sweet tooth.” He bites his lip. “When’s your birthday, kiddo?”

“March 30.” Mallory sets the bakery box down on the counter when she reaches the kitchen and goes to the refrigerator to retrieve the bottle of iced tea there along with three glasses. “I, uh…I know about Mexico,” she admits quietly, looking over at you. “Mom told me some stuff.”

“She asked me a few years ago why she didn’t have a dad.” It hadn’t been the first time she had asked, but it was the first time you felt that she was old enough to hear some of the truth. “So I told her about how we dated for a little while and then I couldn’t find you to tell you that I was pregnant.” You really and truly cannot busy yourself enough right now, and you are pulling out pans and groceries like a fiend. Anything to not look at him. “I tried for a long time.” And nearly gave a lot of different men named Jack Daniels heart attacks in the process – it had been shocking enough to find out that real men even had that name that it had given you hope, but you never found your Jack.

Dated for a little while. A very innocent term for the month-long torrid affair the two of you had. A month of exploring the locale and each other, you practically living in his cabana when you felt like a third wheel with your friends. “Sorry about that.” He winces and regrets his decision to never look you up. “It can be hard to find me, unless you know the right people.” The intelligence agency he worked for made sure of it.

“Great-gran’s probably laughing.” Mallory predicts, holding out a tall glass of peach iced tea to him. “She loved weird coincidences and Shakespearean stuff.”

“Hmmm.” He doesn’t know much about coincidences, but he has to meddling friend who seems to know everything. “She was a nice lady.”

“So, Jack.” As much as she wants to just dive in, Mallory has never called anyone ‘dad’ and never thought she would. “What do you do? Please tell me it’s cool. Mom’s job is so boring.”

Jack chuckles and shakes his head, knowing that he can’t divulge too much right now. “I work for Statesman. The whiskey company.” He gives her a small shrug. “Acting CEO.”

“You run a booze company?” The teen is clearly delighted, leaning over the kitchen counter where you’ve buried your face in your cooking. “Does that mean I can drink whiskey, Mom? Since it’s like…my birthright or whatever?”

You snort, shaking your head at her. “I’ll buy you the fanciest bottle they make in six and a half years, kiddo. It can be your first legal bottle.”

Jack snorts and doesn’t say a word when Mallory pouts. He’s not going to go against what you say. He’s not crazy.

“You can have one sip if there is ever an open bottle in the house.” Caving when all she does is pout isn’t a good habit, but you don’t like to make things forbidden to her. That makes them mysterious and desirable, and she’s more likely to go behind your back to get it or end up overdoing it. “But that’s it. And we’re not buying a bottle just so you can try it.”

“Yesssss.” Mallory does a small celebration dance before trying to collect herself and look well behaved. “I just want to know,” she explains, eyes gliding back to Jack in embarrassment. “I don’t…know that much about you…”

“Ask me anything you want.” Some things couldn’t be mentioned of course, but as soon as Jack leaves your house tonight, he will be on the phone to Champ. “I’ll answer as honestly as I can.” He wants to offer to help, he’s pretty handy in a kitchen, but you seem to be trying to avoid looking at him. Busying yourself with everything and he doesn’t want to make things even more difficult.

“Do you have another family?” Mallory’s face is screwed up into an expression of determination, meant to mask the fact that what she’s asking is actually her biggest fear. The one that cruel kids taunted and tormented her with mercilessly and has made her glad to leave previous towns she had once loved or considered home. “Is that why you left Mom?”

“Mal!” There is no amount of squeezing your eyes shut or deep breathing that can undo the fact that your daughter just asked that question, and you set down the block of parmesan you were grating carefully. “Just because he said you can ask questions doesn’t mean you can be rude.”

“It’s okay.” Jack assures you, giving Mallory a bittersweet smile. “I don’t have another family.” He admits softly, licking his lips before he decides to explain. “When I met your mom, I had lost my wife and unborn son two years earlier.”

“Oh…” You can feel your shoulders round, stomach flopping and face drawn in sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Jack.” You didn’t know. How could you? The two of you had done nothing but live in moments of passion and pleasure the entire time you were together. The insulated bubble of your fantasy affair had had no room for reality.

“You didn’t know.” He jerks his shoulder up, one careless shrug although his entire stance is anything but careless. “It wasn’t something I was…able to talk about.” He admits. Hell, it was hard to talk about it now, but that was after a lot of therapy. He looks back over at Mallory. “So no, there’s no secret family.”

“So then why did you leave?” She asks, her voice quiet and tinged with embarrassment. “Why didn’t you want to see Mom anymore?” The whole ships passing in the night explanation seemed like a bullshit adult excuse to her, but she had never thought that she would have an opportunity to actually ask him.

Jack sighs, leaning against the counter and looking at the daughter he should have known about. “Because I was afraid.” It shocks him when the truth comes out if his mouth. “I— when my wife died – it nearly killed me.” He looks down at his boot, scuffing it on the tile floor. “Your mom, I knew that she was special, but I was terrified that I would lose her somehow.” He chokes out a harsh laugh. “Hard to lose someone when you don’t have them, right?”

“I guess.” It’s hard for her to grasp, but she nods slowly before looking down at Astro between her feet and frowns. “I’m gonna feed the cat.” She announces without segue. “Don’t say anything important until I get back.” She’s gone in a flash, with Astro yowling at her heels as he chases her up to the main floor where his bowls and food are. The air in the room seems to get sucked out after her, though, and your shoulders sag at the counter while you try to figure out what the hell to even say.

“I’m sorry.” Jack props his elbows on the counter and leans over it, closing his eyes with a huge sigh of regret. “I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to attack you.” He mumbles. “I just honestly never thought I would have a kid after… and then I find out…” He breaks off the comment with a choked sound.

“I’m sorry. I tried for so long and then it seemed like you just didn’t want to be found which is so stupid and I just—” With both of you speaking at once it’s sort of a jumble of apologies, but you shake your head fiercely and wipe your hands on the nearest kitchen towel. “All she’s ever wanted is to know you. You don’t have to be any more involved than you want to be and I’m not going to ask you for money or anything, but…” You shrug your shoulders and lean across the counter so that you’re shoulder to shoulder. “It would be nice if you wanted to come around sometimes. Get to know her a little?”

“I—” Jack turns towards you, his eyes swimming with emotion. “We have a daughter.” He breathes out in awe.

“My birth control wasn’t quite as strong as we thought,” you joke, even though the water in his eyes is bringing tears to your own that make your throat stick and your shoulders feel heavy.

“Darlin’ if I had known….” His eyes close and he sighs, hanging his head. “I didn’t want to find out what you were doing.” He admits softly. “I didn’t want to see you married to some asshole with two point five perfect kids and a dog, so I never looked.”

“Just one perfect kid.” That feeling of being drawn closer to him is so familiar that you could swear it was just yesterday that you were lying in his arms on the beach in Puerto Vallarta. “And the cat. But he can be a jerk if he doesn’t get his breakfast on time.”

“Was it…hard?” He can’t imagine having to raise a child on his own. “Doing it alone? Did you have family to help you?”

“It wasn’t easy.” This close to him, it’s hard not to want to reach out and touch him. You haven’t allowed yourself to, not wanting to know if that magnetism that had existed fifteen years ago is still there. “But my family helped where they could. We lived with my parents for a long time before heading out on our own when Mal was about eight. At that point I could afford to support us on my own.” You sigh softly, watching your hand inch closer to him of its own accord. “Sometimes I wonder if anything I do is remotely right at all, but she’s turning out amazing all on her own.”

“She was going to take on a full-grown man with a baseball bat.” He chuckles before he cocks his head. “What was that about?”

“I—” If it’s possible, you deflate a little further. “She heard me crying after I shut the door,” you admit, staring down at your hands. “And she’s never taken it lightly when I get upset. I guess…” The thought would make you laugh if you weren’t nearly in tears again, and the sound you make is more like a hiccup. “I guess she’s a hell of a lot more protective than I thought. Just be glad she didn’t swing. The kid has a hell of an arm on her.”

Jack snorts and feels pride swelling in his chest at the notion that his daughter would ferociously protect her mother from anyone. “She wouldn’t have hurt me.” He promises, edging closer to you and unable to deny that he wants to touch you, pull you in and inhale you. To see if that scent that was always underlying any perfume – your scent – was still the same.

“She would have tried.” When he shifts closer, the tips of your fingers brush his arm, and you inhale sharply. Apparently, that spark hasn’t faded over time. At least not for you. And you’re not sure if that’s what you were hoping for or dreading. After all, the idea that he might still want you fifteen years later is…well, it’s wishful thinking.

“Good.” The air has shift. Thickened. If it weren’t for the fact that this is not a mission and you are not a target, he would think that someone is about to attack. Maybe they are. “Fuck.” He whispers, looking into your eyes. “I should have stayed.” He murmurs. “I shoulda told Champ to send someone else.”

“Champ?” You feel like you can barely move, fingertips touching his skin and breath mingling between you like no time has passed at all.

“My boss.” Jack straightens up, bringing you with him. “Darlin’, tell me I’m crazy.” He begs softly. “Tell me to step away, or I’m gonna kiss you.”

“I’ve never been known for my good sense when it comes to you.” The two of you are so wrapped up in your own little world as you round the edge of the counter to be closer to him, that you don’t even hear the soft creak of the stairs as Mallory stops in her tracks to give you privacy. “I just…I don’t…” Don’t isn’t very convincing when you’re practically gliding into his arms, and you force yourself to stop – closing your eyes briefly and breathing slowly before you open your eyes again to find his gaze still locked on you. “Don’t do it unless you mean it,” you ask, barely hearing your own voice. “Letting go of you once was hard enough.”

Jack sighs, heavy and deep for the pit of his soul. “I’ve always thought of you.” He confesses softly. “You – being out there, kept me sane sometimes. Thinking about that month, wondering what you had become.” He leans in and nudges his nose against yours. “You seeing anyone, darlin’?”

“No.” You haven’t for years, essentially giving up on dating when no one could ever come close to making you feel the way that Jack did. The way he still does, apparently, with your arms sliding easily around his waist. “No one ever…I-I couldn’t stop comparing them to you…which felt pretty silly until about ten seconds ago.”

“That’s good.” There’s a cockiness to his smirk as he leans in again. “Because you were always the bar no one could reach.”

If being able to touch him again took your breath away, then it’s surely a natural progression that kissing him for the first time in fifteen years makes your heart stop. That part of you that never stopped being in love with him is soaring right now as you curl your fingers into his shirt and hold his softer form flush against you. You’re both older, softer, changed in both large and small ways – but Jack tastes exactly the same as he did so many years ago. He still overwhelms and fills your senses in exactly the same way, and the reassurance that you haven’t been glorifying his memory for fifteen years is enough to have you eagerly seeking to deepen the kiss.

Kissing you was always natural. From the first time on that little dance floor, crowded and sweaty, to right now. He’s been no saint since the two of you parted ways, but there have only been two women that fit into his arms like they were made for him. Now one of them is right here. Jack groans and eagerly slides his tongue into your mouth as you open for him.

You moan softly, pouring the sound into his mouth as the two of you relearn the contours of each other’s mouths and grip the curves of each other’s bodies, lost in the moment in the middle of your kitchen. Years ago, a kiss like this would have had your back up against a wall or tree or door and your dress pulled up to your waist so Jack could push inside you as slowly or as frantically as he pleased – but it builds more slowly tonight. Reminding yourselves of exactly how good things can be.

Maybe its age that’s slowing him down, or maybe it’s that he doesn’t want this to end, but Jack doesn’t rush. Which is a good thing when he sees movement out of the corner of his vision and he pulls away hastily, remembering you do have a teenage daughter in the house.

“I…um…” With your entire face on fire and your body lit up with that desperate, aching need for pleasure for the first time in years, you’re relieved to only see Astro when you turn your head. But a creak on the stairs makes you nearly laugh; you bury your face in your hands for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Mal? You can come out of hiding.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt.” Mallory is chewing on her bottom lip when she emerges, hands stuffed into her pockets and looking sheepish. “It sounded like you guys were talking about something important…” For her entire life she’s dreamed about her dad reappearing and her parents getting back together – wanting that idyllic life of domestic harmony like other kids had and so her mom could be happy. And it sounds like she might actually get it. Or at least she’s a huge step closer than she was even an hour ago.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Jack has the decency to flush at his daughter having to deal with him kissing her mom the first time he meets her. “I didn’t mean to rush that.”

“Does…” Mallory looks between you with poorly disguised hope in her eyes, settling the question on Jack when she recognizes the look on your face as uncertainty. “Does this mean you’re getting back together?”

“I—” Jack looks back at you and then to Mallory again. “That is up to your mom.” He hums softly. “It’s been a long time since she’s had to put up with me.” Flashing a grin at the joke to dispel the tension. You might not want something with him. “She might not want ‘ole Jack.”

“Yes, she does,” Mallory insists quickly. “She—”

“Mal.” You have a feeling that if you don’t stop her, a whole lot of teenage observations will come spilling out of her mouth and you’re not sure how ready you are for any of those truths to be spoken. “Your dad and I have a lot to talk about. How about for now we just set the table and I’ll finish making dinner?” A glance at Jack gets you a nod, and you squeeze his hand gently in your own before letting go. There is a lot to talk about, but having him back beside you has always been your ultimate fantasy.

Instead of haunting you, he helps Mallory. Letting her order him around as the two of them get the table ready to eat. It’s homey and comforting, something he’s not imagined for himself in forever. Learning that his daughter has his observation skills is amusing, along with your artistic side. The flowers that had been on the entry way table magically appearing on the table in a recreated centerpiece. “So, what other questions do you have for me?” He asks her, knowing she wants to know more. He’s already soaking up information about the first fourteen years that’s he’s missed.

“I looked you up when I was feeding Astro.” She admits, holding up her cell phone as she connects her Spotify to the Bluetooth speakers she got for her last birthday to play some music during dinner. “All I could find was your company bio. Born and raised in Kentucky, worked for the company for twenty years, blah blah blah, all that kind of stuff.” Mallory tilts her head at him as she turns on a Florence and the Machine playlist – her favourite that you also love – and shrugs. “What do you do for fun?”

Jack hums, knowing that his main ‘hobby’ is work. “Rope work.” He decides that’s safe enough. “Plus a little sport shooting. I am handy with a whip, a lasso and six shooters.”

Mallory’s nose wrinkles slightly, confusion evident on her face, and she squints at him like she’s inspecting him for a lie. “Didn’t cowboys die out like a hundred years ago?”

Jack chuckles and shakes his head. “Naw, they’re still out there. Just have to know where to look.”

“It was always kind of your dad’s thing.” And despite the distractingly neat button-down shirt and typically tight jeans he’s wearing, you had noticed that he still wears cowboy boots regardless of living in New York City. “He was the only one walking the beach in boots instead of sandals.”

Jack grins at the way Mallory wrinkles her nose and reaches out to tweak it. “Soft soles.” He huffs. “Sand burned my feet.”

You soundly resist the joke about how that was the only soft part of him back then, and instead hand Jack a bowl brimming with spaghetti in garlicky tomato sauce to put on the table while you bring over the platter of chicken. “How long have you been in New York?”

“Six years.” Jack brings over the bowl and sets it down. “Champ wanted me running the New York office. Knowing I liked to play the stock games.”

“Everybody dig in.” Seeing him sitting at your dinner table like he’s always meant to be there is disorienting in the best kind of way. Like you’ve imagined him and wished him into being there for so long that it finally worked. The whole thing will be enough to make you break right down and cry tonight, but for now you’re going to savor it, and hold on to that fresh feeling of his lips against yours for as long as you can.

It’s quiet for a moment while everyone fills up their plates. Jack keeps looking between you and Mallory, wondering what it would have been like if he had kept in touch, if he had known about her. “We should do something.” He decides. “Some kind of family outing?”

“Can we?” The suggestion energizes your daughter, making her sit up straight in her seat enthusiastically as she digs into her dinner. “There’s a bunch of touristy stuff we want to do since we just got here. Yankees game, Broadway, the Met, Times Square, all the super touristy stuff.”

“Whatever you want to do.” Jack nods. “As long as your mother is okay with me playing your guide.”

“I think there’s something you should do first, though.” Mallory tells him honestly. “You and Mom should go out. Even if it’s not like…a date date. You should spend time together.”

He stares at his daughter for a moment before he chuckles and shakes his head before he looks at you. “I think she’s trying to orchestrate something, but she’s probably right.”

“I shouldn’t have let her watch Parent Trap so many times,” you huff, raising an eyebrow at Mallory as she gives you her best innocent face. “It wouldn’t kill us to have dinner.” There are certainly plenty of things to discuss that aren’t for your fourteen-year-old’s ears, especially after that kiss. “It doesn’t—don’t feel like it has to be a date. We should just take some time to catch up.” The last thing you want him to feel is pressured, no matter how much you were ready to drag him upstairs not too long ago.

“No.” Jack braces his elbows on the edge of the table, that kiss making him confident that you are still feeling the same way you did all those years ago. “I owe you fifteen years of Mother’s Day celebrations. And I want to see if we are still compatible.”

Mallory looks positively triumphant with her mouth full of pasta, and you look at Jack for a long moment before nodding. “Okay.” It’s not exactly hard to agree to, since that kiss screamed compatibility. “Mal’s old enough to stay home alone, so…yeah. I’d like that. Just – let me know when and where.”

“You could always go out tonight!” Mallory chirps. “After dinner. It’s early and this is New York.” Jack bites his lip to keep from laughing at the face of unbridled enthusiasm.

“Your dad might have other plans, honey.” After all, who knows what kind of life he’s leading these days. He had asked you if you were seeing anyone, but you hadn’t had the presence of mind to ask the same.

“I don’t.” Jack supplies quickly. “But your mom may not want to do anything tonight.” He offers, giving you an out of you want it. “It’s been a shocking day.”

“What the hell.” You laugh, shrugging at the absurdity of the entire day on whole. An extremely eventful Thursday if there ever was one. “Why not? The house will be nice and quiet while Mal does her homework.”

He hadn’t expected you to say yes, but he flashes you a grin and nods. “Well, okay darlin’. How’s a stroll through Central Park sound?” He asks. “They have a lot of musicians out in the evenings.”

“Sounds good.” Nothing formal, nothing fussy, and nothing that will be too upsetting to Mal if it doesn’t go well. That seems okay to you.

******

Jack insists on cleaning up the dishes, shooing you away to go get ready and claiming that Mallory can help him if he needs guidance on where to put things. “You know,” he keeps his eyes on the pan he is scrubbing. “You momma may not want to pursue anything with me.” He tells her. “But that don’t mean that you and I aren’t going to get to know one another.” He just doesn’t want her to push for the two of you because she wants to keep him in her life. That was guaranteed the moment he learned about her. Living next door just makes it even easier.

“She misses you.” Mallory dries the glasses and flatware carefully to put away, watching her father as he works. “I know that having me isn’t a guarantee that you’ll get married and live happily ever after. I get that.” She shrugs a little, leaning on the counter and looking up at him. “But she never asks for anything for herself, and I know she wouldn’t ask you for anything either. So…whatever happens is whatever happens. I just don’t want her to regret shit anymore.”

“Damn.” Jack shoots her a grin and looks back down at his pan. “Seems like you inherited my spirit.” He tells her. “Brash, fearsome and reason to fight when it’s something you believe in or want to protect.”

“Mom says we’re a lot alike.” She puts the clean glasses in the cupboard and offers him a small, devious grin. “At least, that’s what she said when I frustrate her by talking my way out of trouble.”

His laugh is full, from the belly and he practically crows at how pleased with herself she looks. “I could always get her madder than a hen having her eggs stolen and then soothe her ruffled feathers.”

“I don’t—” Mallory chews her lip, plopping down on the stool on the other side of the counter to look at him. There are only a few old Polaroids in a shoebox in her mom’s room that she had ever seen him in, and he looks pretty much the same. Just older and all the things that go with age. “I don’t think she ever stopped loving you,” she murmurs, eyes shifting away to look at her own hands the same way you do when you’re nervous or upset. “I mean she’s never said it or anything, but I don’t know why else she would’ve avoided dating like she did.”

Oh. Jack’s shoulders slump and he looks at the daughter the two of you created from a vacation fling. “I—I promise I won’t hurt her.” He vows softly, knowing that she cares about your happiness.

“Okay.” Mallory nods, having said all she has to say for the moment until she remembers one more thing while putting the flatware back in its drawer. “Did you…” she looks back at him apprehensively. “Ever love her?”

“I did.” He murmurs softly. “It’s why I couldn’t be with her. At least why I thought I couldn’t.” His grief over his wife had twisted him and warped his thoughts on love for awhile. “There have been two women I’ve loved, and your mother is one of them.”

******

It took you a solid twenty minutes of staring in your bedroom mirror panicking over not having anything nice enough to wear out on a maybe-but-maybe-not date with the man who fathered your child. You manage to calm yourself down enough to transfer your energy to a pep talk – reminding yourself that you’re just going for a walk and the whole point of this is just to casually spend time together so just put on some damn jeans and a clean blouse and fucking breathe. Is this the first night you’ve refreshed your makeup after work instead of wiping it off in exhaustion? Yes. But you’ll be damned if you don’t go on this totally casually absolutely not-a-big-deal walk and not look nice for the man you – begrudgingly admit to yourself – have been in love with for fifteen years. You just can’t let yourself get your hopes up. Even as good as that kiss was.

Heading back downstairs, you check yourself in the hallway mirror one more time and stop to give Astro a snuggle when you grab your favourite cardigan off the coat hook by the front door. “Knock knock.” Deciding to announce yourself when you get to the bottom of the stairs in case Mallory and Jack are talking about something one of them might consider personal, you pause in the kitchen doorway before turning the corner. “How’s clean up coming?”

Jack is wiping his hands on the dish rag as he turns around. “Done.” He manages before he purses his lips together and lets out a low whistle. “Darlin’, maybe I need to go freshen up to be worthy of walking you around.” He praises as he sets down the towel and takes a step towards you.

“It’s just jeans and a clean shirt, Jack.” Still, that doesn’t stop the warmth from rising in your cheeks, pleased at the praise without letting yourself visibly preen. Not in front of Mal.

He grins, rocking closer and catching a subtle whiff of perfume. “Everything looks good on you, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes at him like you don’t distinctly remember that he used to end that phrase with things like ’especially me’ or ’even nothing’, or look smug about it after painting your skin with his cum. “I remember.”

“You kids have fun, now.” Mallory grins, echoing what you always say to her when you would drop her off at a friend’s house. “Doors will stay locked, no tv until my homework is done, lights out by 11:30, I know the drill.” She practically shoves the two of you toward the kitchen door looking as pleased with herself as humanly possible. “You two stay out as looooong as you want.”

“Why do I have a feeling your daughter wants you on this date more than you want to be on it?” Jack asks as the two of you find yourselves on the stoop.

“That’s not true.” Outside, out of view of your daughter, you feel like you can breathe a little more easily. If only because the baggage you carry is full of things that you try never to shoulder her with. “I’m just…I’ve had a lot of dreams that start with you walking back into our lives and I don’t want to pressure you into anything. That’s all.” Taking a deep breath, you nudge him slightly as you head for the few stairs that will bring you to the sidewalk. “I know she has her hopes up. But you’ve had a lot dropped on you today even before our teenage daughter decided to play matchmaker.” Holding your hand out to him as though it’s proof that you want to be there, you offer him a smile. “For me? I just can’t believe you’re actually here.”

Jack takes your hand, feeling the weight of your fingers resting against his and the warmth of your skin. “I regretted it.” He admits quietly. “Not getting your information, or leaving you a way to get ahold of me if you wanted.” He shakes his head. “I know I didn’t tell you about my wife, I couldn’t.”

“I feel like I should have worked harder to find you, but I tried everything I could think of.” The two of you start down the street together, easily finding that stride together like it hasn’t been more than a decade since you walked hand in hand. “Things would have been so different.”

Jack grunts, fully aware that without a Top Secret clearance, you wouldn’t have been able to find him. “Darlin’, there’s a reason why you weren’t able to find me.” He ventures, squeezing your hand. He knows Champ might be sore at him, but you are the mother of his child. His family legacy. You would find out when he dies, and family who are together get to know.

“What do you mean?” There aren’t many people out right now, or at least a lot fewer than you would have expected for the time of night, and you and Jack stride slowly down the block together even with confusion written on your face.

“Statesman isn’t just a whiskey company, darlin’.” Jack explains. “Beyond the bourbon, we’re an independent intelligence agency.” He looks over to see you frowning even harder in confusion. “I’m a spy, sweetheart.”

Stopping dead in your tracks, it takes every ounce of restraint you have not to just wrench your hand out of his and do something rash like scream. “Jack, if you don’t want to be in our lives, just say so,” you tell him, carefully removing your fingers from their place threaded through his. It feels like you’ve swallowed concrete, the sinking disappointment in your belly pulling you away from him a little more every second. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying.” Jack huffs, reaching for you but dropping his hand when you jerk out if his reach. “I’m – hand to God, I am an intelligence officer. Was one when we met.”

“Spies don’t work for distilleries; they work for the government and you are the least likely military man I’ve ever met in my life.” The boiling frustration pouring off of you pushes tears to the surface as you wrap your arms around yourself and shake your head emphatically. “How in the hell am I supposed to believe you, Jack?” It’s like a comic book, too far beyond belief to even entertain. “Is Jack even your name? Or was I right that Jack Daniels was an alias the whole time?” It’s a silly name and you’ve always thought so. Thought he was hiding something. But you went and fell in love with him anyway like a fool.

His lips push into a frown, and he shakes his head. “Come on.” He turns around and starts walking back the same direction you just traveled from. “I’ll prove it since you can’t take my word for it.” He tells himself as he walks with large, determined strides that anyone would have that reaction. Although he had hoped you would ask questions rather than just disbelieve him.

“I guess I’m following you.” Muttering to yourself as you watch him start to walk away, you’re torn between the absolute heartbreak of finally thinking that he truly wants nothing to do with you and being concerned that he might not be well. The percentage possibility that he’s telling the truth is so slim that you immediately push it from your mind. Despite clearly not believing him, you hustle behind the man you were supposed to be taking a nice stroll with until he’s climbing the stairs to his own brownstone right next to yours.

From the outside, Jack’s brownstone looks normal. He opens the outer door and moves over to the wall next to the door. Turning around and making sure you are paying attention before he leans down to peer into the small round orb that looks like a digital thermostat on the wall. Initiating the retinal scan.

“The hell…?” Sheer curiosity has you stepping closer, looking at the panel that he’s staring into but looks like something out of a James Bond movie.

The interior door to the house clicks open and Jack shoves it open so you can walk in. “It’s in my library.” He tells you, leading the way through the wax rubbed paneled hallway and through the original pocket doors into the cozy room.

His house is built exactly the same way as yours, the whole block having been built at the same time well over a hundred years ago, but his library is much grander. Yours is low key at the moment, and is mostly a place for you to read or Mallory to play her guitar. “What is?” You ask, not seeing anything suspicious or out of place in the comfortable space.

When he had moved into the brownstone, he had told the techs that he wanted all the Statesman upgrades to blend into the natural feel of the house. Beyond the retinal scanner, they had done a damn good job. Jack walks over to a bookshelf and presses a button that is hidden in the ornate carving.

A whole panel of the wall starts to move, sinking inward slightly before shifting and sliding to the left so that part of his bookcase gives way to a… “Do you seriously have a wall of weapons?” There are guns of various calibers hanging alongside what looks to be a lasso and a whip like he mentioned earlier. Jesus Christ, you had always just thought he was really into growing up on a ranch…

Jack picks up what looks like just a whip handle, short and practically useless to the common person. “Back up.” He warns you, pressing the well-worn button on the handle as the electrified whip extends and flickers to life, deadly and beautiful.

“The hell?” Stepping back wasn’t quite enough, and you stumble backward a large step more before you steady yourself on a nearby chair. “Is that…electric?” You ask, eyes wide with awe and somehow more confusion.

Jack keeps his eyes on his weapon, knowing it can slice anything in half and he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you. The vase, however, he never really liked it. He swings the whip over his head and flicks his wrist, sending the electrified cord out to wrap around the neck of the vase and flowers, neatly slicing them off and letting them topple to the floor. Straightening up when he’s done, he presses the button again and the whip retracts. “It is.” He finally answers, turning back to you.

“Jesus!” Instinctively jumping backward to be even further away from the weapon, you can feel all the blood drain from your face and your jaw drops open in shock. “What—how did—I don’t—” A coherent thought doesn’t seem to be able to form for an exhaustive amount of time and you stand there, dumbfounded, for longer than you’re proud of. “You’re—you’re serious, aren’t you?”

Jack sets the whip down and nods, aware that there is probably a good chance that you will flee. Perhaps keep him away from Mallory. “I wasn’t lying to you, darlin’. I’ve never lied to you. Maybe kept things to myself – like why I was in Mexico – but I never lied.”

“Wh—why were you in Mexico?” It’s overwhelming, and confusing, but your gut is somehow sure that he’s telling you the truth – which might only be adding to the feeling of confusion, you can’t tell yet. “You just said you were on vacation…?”

“I was in a sense.” Jack nods, relaxing slightly now that you are asking questions. The reluctant belief in your eyes making him shuffle slightly closer to you. “I had just finished my first mission. Those bruises you saw weren’t from a bar fight in Jamaica – well, not just a bar fight.” He admits. “I was in Mexico to recuperate and lay low. And celebrate mission success.”

“So you—” Shaking your head only seems to rattle your thoughts more, and you look between him and the secret wall panel of weapons (is that really just a thought you just had?) apprehensively. “You’re like…James Bond with a Stetson?” The phrase is so ridiculous that it almost makes you laugh, but all that comes out is a breathy huff. “Just…going around the world on secret spy missions and sleeping with random women and pretending to sell whiskey?”

“No, I do sell whiskey.” Jack flashes you a grin and lifts his hand to rub through his hatless hair. “Have you seen our stock? As the senior agent, I’m not seducing as much as I might have when I was younger. And I go out on missions only when the young bucks can’t get it done alone.”

You have far, far too many questions all swimming around in your head right now, but the way he’s looking at you is so earnest that you swallow – hard – and look back over at him. “So, what…I couldn’t find you because Jack Daniels is your code name or something?”

“No.” Jack shakes his head and grins at you. “Jack Daniels really is my name.” He tells you. “It’s more that Ginger keeps records of me classified.” He chuckles. “My code name is Whiskey.”

“Of course it is.” With both of your hands waving in the air, you flop backward into the chair you were just leaning on. “I—this is…it’s kind of insane,” you admit, trying to wrap your head around the completely far-fetched idea.

“I’ll admit that.” Jack places the whip back into the panel and slides it closed. “But that’s why you couldn’t find me.” He murmurs softly. “If you decide you don’t want to have anything to do with it, that’s fine.” He would be heartbroken, but that’s not a new sensation.

“If all this were true—” The hurt look on his face makes you pause, and you pinch the bridge of your nose tightly between two fingers. “Let’s say this is all true,” you rephrase. “Wouldn’t you get in a ton of trouble for telling me?”

“Maybe.” Jack can still see that you don’t want to believe him. “Let’s find out.” He opens up a drawer in his desk and tosses you a pair of reading glasses, keeping one for himself. “Put those on, darlin’.”

Sure. A pair of glasses will tell him if he’s in trouble with his super spy bosses. Makes sense. You’re just about willing to admit that your weary heart can’t take a bunch of elaborate lies, but that insistent nagging in your gut tells you to put the damn glasses on and just find out. The image in them is almost instant, as he puts his own pair on and taps the tip of the frames like he’s pushing an On button or something.

“Jack! Burnin’ that midnight oil there?” An older man, broad like Jack but with perhaps ten or fifteen years on him and possessed of a thicker accent, appears in front of your eyes with a cigar in his mouth and a surprised smile on his face that quickly drops into concern. “Jack…” He clears his throat purposefully. “Now, I don’t mind there bein’ a beautiful woman in my office, but I prefer it when they’re by my own invitation.”

“Sorry Champ.” Jack motions towards you and introduces you. “There’s been a development here in New York.”

“Oh?” Champ raises a brow and sets down the cigar, then turns to reach for a bottle of Statesman Reserve. “What seems to be the problem? Nothings coming from the White House.”

Jack shakes his head. “No. This is more of a personal thing.” He explains. “Aww hell, there’s no good way to explain this, Champ. This lady is the mother of my fourteen-year-old daughter that I just learned about.”

Champ pauses, the bottle in his hand poised to pour, and he carefully sets it back down on the desk in front of him. “Ma’am,” he nods to you before looking back at Jack with a sigh. “When I told you to take a little R&R after the Jamaica job, this ain’t really what I meant, son.”

“I know.” Jack barely manages to keep from rolling his eyes, but he does huff. “However, now that I am aware of this, we need to initiate ‘Family Protocol’ for them.” He reminds his boss.

“Ginger’s already got everything set up, she’s just waiting on my go ahead.” Champ admits, leaning forward at his desk. “Ma’am, I understand this must come as a bit of a shock to you, but rest assured you’re in good hands, alright? Ol’ Jack’s the best in the business and we’ll take good care of you.”

“Uh…” The best you can do is nod, bewildered, and reach for Jack’s hand to cling to. As insane as this is, he’s still your port in the storm. “I—okay.”

“Wait…” Jack’s nostrils flair. “How does Ginger already have everything set up?” He demands, fully aware that those kinds of things take time.

“About a week ago, your DNA got pinged in our system—”

“The ancestry kits.” You interrupt, now wide eyed over something completely different. “A couple of weeks ago Mal and I each did one of those ancestry kits where you spit in a tube and the company analyzes your DNA…she hated not being able to fill out those school projects they have the kids do about family history and I—I thought—it could help us find out about where your family came from.”

“And you didn’t think it would be a good idea to let me know?” Jack asks, incredulous that Champ and Ginger would keep this from him.

“I was havin’ Ginger put together a file for you.” Champ admits, picking up the bottle again to pour himself a drink. “Same as we have done for any other agent.” It had happened a few times over the years, but never like this. The existence of those dang DNA tests was turning out to be interesting for the intelligence community. “But that file can be sealed now, since y’all found each other.” His eyes trace between you and Jack for a moment as he takes a sip of his drink. “Why don’t you bring your lady friend and your daughter down to Kentucky on the jet this weekend and we’ll get them squared away. Some of the New York techs can update their home security while you’re here.”

He’s still slightly upset, knowing that Champ knew first-hand about Jack’s past and how it shaped him. Although he can’t be too upset about him withholding information until it was deemed safe. It was the nature of the game he played. Turning to you, he wants to know what you think. “Darlin’?” He asks softly. “It’s your decision.”

“What are ’Family Protocols’?” It was the phrase that Jack had used, but you have no idea what it means and frankly it sounds more threatening than protective to your ears. “And why do we need to update our security? We’re not in danger…are we?”

“No.” Jack shakes his head. “No more than the average person. It’s why Statesman keeps our identities locked down so tight. Even the president doesn’t know who we are.” He doesn’t want to scare you, but he wants you to know the truth. “However, we take our families very seriously, so you are protected as if you were. Kind of like being the First Family, without the Secret Service taking you shopping.”

“This is…” You can’t help but shake your head, brows knitted together as you try to absorb the inherent truth of the situation. Jack didn’t make himself invisible to you for fifteen years – he was that way to everyone. He had kept his life to himself years ago to protect you. To keep you safe from his big, wild world of spies and secrets. “This is a lot,” you murmur finally, squeezing his hand tightly. “But it would be…it would be stupid not to do it, right? Like if someone did figure out Mallory was your daughter and something did happen, then she could be protected?”

“Listen, even if you want nothing to do with this, Mallory will be protected.” He promises fervently. He won’t let his second child down like he did his first. He knows rationally that he couldn’t have prevented the events that took them from him, but he can’t help but wonder if being an agent at the time wouldn’t have helped. “I promise you, Statesman won’t let anything happen to her. Even if you aren’t aware we are around.”

“At the risk of being…sentimental in front of your boss?” Nodding in the older man’s direction, you never talk or your eyes off Jack. “I spent fifteen years with you on my mind every single day, Jack Daniels. I’m not bowing out just because things get weird.” The conversation about what the two of you are to each other still needs to happen, but it’s suddenly feeling even more important than it did when you were only talking about your daughter’s happiness and not her safety.

“This sounds like a mighty fine time for me to say Goodnight.” Champ interjects with a clearing of his throat. “Jack, you tell Ginger when you’re coming, and I’ll have the ranch house made up.” He looks towards you with a polite nod. “Ma’am.” He taps his glasses and his image disappears.

“So…” Flustered and still a little overwhelmed, you take your glasses off and carefully hand them back to Jack. “Your boss seems…nice? Polite, at least.”

“He’s a good man.” Jack admits. “He’s the one that recruited me to Statesman.”

“Our walk got derailed.” You blow out a breath, knowing that that is your fault. “But I think…I think this is more important.”

“I understand that it’s a lot, sweetheart.” Jack acknowledges, moving over to you and rubbing your shoulders soothingly. “We can take the walk now, or we can have a drink and talk.”

“I think it’s only fair that I try that whiskey you sell.” Reaching up for him, your thumb smoothes over his stubbled cheek like you’re trying to reassure him and not yourself. “Central Park will be there the next time we want to take a walk. We should talk about things. I mean…you just found out you have a daughter and I just found you, so…there’s a lot to unpack.”

“Yes it is.” Making his way over to the bar cart gives him something to do. Keeps him from grabbing you and kissing you again. Talking needs to happen. “You really have thought about me since then?” He asks, picking up a bottle of Reserve.

The urge to chuckle is one you can stifle, and you walk across the room to the sofa beside his elaborate bar. “Of course I have.” You tell him honestly. “You—you changed my life, Jack. Even if you hadn’t given me Mallory, you still would have changed everything for me.”

“Cursing me for leaving you alone isn’t the same as wanting me there.” He smirks as he pours you both a double and brings the glasses and the bottle over to the couch.

“There was more wanting than cursing.” The glass he hands you is heavy, the liquor inside a rich and syrupy deep brown. “Although I probably would have said some pretty unkind things to you during the actual labor so maybe it’s better that you missed that part.”

Jack chuckles and sits down beside you. “Every woman has the right to curse the person who did that to her as much as she wants.” He reasons before he holds his glass out to you. “To being neighbors.”

“Neighbors.” The glasses make a pretty clinking sound and the warm, smoky sweet burn of your first sip of Statesman makes you hum pleasantly. “I have all kinds of photo albums and home videos. You can took a look whenever you want.”

“I will.” Jack wants that more than anything. “I want to see whatever you’ve got. I’ve always wanted kids…before.” He admits quietly. “Wanted five or six of them.”

“I always thought I’d have two or three.” Though obviously neither of you had ever anticipated having them together. “Mal used to ask me for a little sister for Christmas every year…” You shrug a little, staring into your glass. “You don’t have to tell me what happened to your wife, but I—if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears.”

“No.” Jack sighs softly. “You deserve to hear about it. Despite what you think, I was in the military.” He tells you. “My wife, she was eight months pregnant with our baby boy and she went to the convenience store to get me another pack of cigarettes. I was about to go out into the field for the weekend and wanted to make sure I had enough.” Bitter guilt rises in the back of his throat thinking about how he was packing for a fucking field op while his wife and child lay dying. “She— two fucking meth head out freaks came in to rob the place.” His voice wavers and he coughs. “She was caught up in the crossfire.”

“Oh, Jack…” You set your glass down on the nearest table and reach for him instead. “I’m so sorry.” Losing him to the wild and unknown world was hard enough. You can’t even imagine the heartbreak of knowing there was no chance you could ever have him back again. “And I…I didn’t mean to offend you. I just meant – the only military men I’ve known were uptight. Sticklers. And you were…you were so free when I knew you. But I guess…I guess we actually have a lot to learn about each other.”

“I was kind of a rule breaker in the military.” He admits with a grin. “It was join Statesman or going to the brig.”

“That sounds more like the man I knew.” It makes you smile, despite the ache on his behalf for the loss of his wife and first child. Losing Mallory would completely destroy you.

“I— when we met, I was sure that no one would ever touch my heart again.” He takes another sip of his whiskey. “And when you did, you scared the shit out of me.”

“If it’s any consolation, you surprised me, too.” Picking up your glass again seems to be the best way to keep yourself from holding onto him like a lifeline so you cradle it in both hands and look down into the amber liquid so you don’t have to see if he reacts badly to what you’re about to say. “I didn’t exactly think that I was going to meet the only man I’d ever love at 21.”

“Did you try to move on, darlin’?” He asks quietly. “Surely there someone that had captured your interest?”

“I tried.” You nod but hesitate to look up at him, afraid of being overly emotional while you talk. “But nothing really came of any of it. Finding a man my own age was out because none of them wanted to be fathers so young, and after I while I realized that none…none of them compared to you anyway. And Mal doesn’t deserve to have some half-assed excuse for a stepfather just because I miss sharing a bed with someone. I love her too much to bring anyone into her life that isn’t worthy of her.”

“That’s good.” Jack can’t fault you for your view. “I haven’t found anyone either. One-night stands are as close to a connection as I’ve made in the past fifteen years.”

“Well.” When you shrug again it is accompanied by a lopsided smile. “You had your secret life to protect. Can’t fault you for being picky about who you share it with.”

“It wasn’t because of that.” He murmurs softly. “It was because of someone else.”

“You…met someone else?” It shouldn’t surprise you. And it shouldn’t hurt as badly as it does. But you can feel every single one of those long-seen hopes breaking in half as you take a long drink of that whiskey he’s now known for.

Jack looks at you for a moment before he snorts and shakes his head. “Sweetheart…” he shuffles closer. “I was talking about you.”

“You—?” Shock paints your face yet again, and your head shoots up to find him looking down at you so softly that you could just break right down and cry. It makes your voice soft and your shoulders round, and your eyebrows raise up in bewildered surprise. “You really loved me that much?”

His hand comes up to stroke your cheek, wanting nothing more than to lean in and kiss away your surprise, but he doesn’t. Instead he looks into your eyes and nods seriously. “Darlin’ I left my heart with you in Mexico. You— you made me realize I could love again, and you swiped it right up and took it with you when we went our own way.”

“I took a little bit more of you with me than just that,” you remind him, shifting slightly so you can thread your fingers through his other hand. “But you…I guess you never knew that you carried my heart all these years, like I didn’t know I carried yours.” It’s sobering, an irony of the glass you have in your hand, and you move that much closer to him on the couch. “We were so caught up in having the best temporary moments together that we didn’t consider letting it be more.”

“I don’t know if I woulda been good for you until I got my head on straight.” Jacks admits, knowing he had to work through some issues to admit his feelings for you back then.

“Seems an awful lot like a second chance.” You’re almost afraid to say it, but the echo of that kiss in your kitchen and the shy graze of his calloused fingertips on your cheek give you so much hope that you’re bursting with it.

“It seems like.” He hums, enjoying the way your eyes flutter slightly. “It would be a shame to waste it, wouldn’t it?” He asks, his thumb rubbing over your bottom lip before he leans in and kisses you again.

It would be a damn shame to waste it, you could not agree more. You’re so eager not to waste it that you barely get your glass onto the nearest table, abandoning it entirely to run your fingers through Jack’s thick hair and pull him closer.

There is a groan that rumbles from his mouth, into yours. Passionate and lusty while his own hand fumbles to deposit the nearly empty glass so he can wrap his hand around your back and tug you back towards him. It's what he's wanted for so long. Needed for so long and it's finally here.

You’re not sure which one of you loses balance first, but the result of desperately clinging to each other and refusing to let go lies in Jack toppling backward and taking you with him. It is by no means the first time you have ended up sprawled out across his chest in a fit of passion, but it has been long enough since the last time that it makes both of you smile into the kiss. You might have laughed if you weren’t so hungry to swallow every other sound he feeds you.

Jack grunts, grinning against your lips and he takes advantage by sliding his hand down to cup your ass. Rocking you on the steadily hardening bulge in the front of his jeans.

Whimpering in response, you plant your knees easily on either side of his trim hips to steady yourself and let all your sounds of approval drip into his mouth. It’s been years since you so much as kissed someone, let alone was in such a compromising position with anyone, but you soak it up with glee – because it’s him.

Suddenly it’s fifteen years ago. Both of you greedy and unable to get enough of each other. Keeping his lips on yours while he’s kicking at his boots, trying to toe them off so he can move on to removing other clothing. Unless you want him too, he’s not stopping.

Needy moans and sighs fill the room, elevating the sound of pants and labored breathing to a favourite symphony. His boots and your shoes hit the floor gracelessly, letting your balance shift once more to focus on unbuttoning his shirt even though your hands are clumsy and eager.

“Jesus.” Once the two of you come up for air, it’s a race to see who can get more buttons undone, or ripped. Jack doesn’t give a shit. The sacrifice of a shirt is a small price to pay for being able to touch you. Reaching between you when you get it opened, he flicks the button of your jeans open and drags down your zipper.

“Should’ve— fuck— worn a dress,” you grumble, hating the few seconds that you have to lift off of him to actually pull your clothing off. Your favourite shirt and most flattering jeans hit the floor with an unceremonious thunk, and you wish like hell that you had thought to put on cuter underwear for a split second before getting self-conscious. This isn’t the same body he knew – you’ve changed since pregnancy and childbirth, filled out with age. There is always a chance, however slim, that he might not be attracted to you as much as he used to be.

“Fucking hell.” Jack moans as he grabs onto your hips, larger and softer than they were before. Matured. He loves it. “Still fucking gorgeous.” He thought you were a knockout fifteen years ago, but you are even more beautiful now. Maybe it��s because you’re the mother of his child, or still hold his heart, but you are everything he wants in a woman.

That answers that, you think with a grin, as Jack practically pulls you back into his lap. “Jeans,” you mumble against his lips, your fingers already working to pull his belt buckle open. The man has never owned a single pair of jeans that wasn’t a damn second skin – not then and not now – and you love it.

Jack growls when you start to push and tug his jeans down. "Fuck, I'll do it, take off your fucking shirt." He begs, gently pushing you off of him so he can leap up off the couch and start to peel the jeans down his thighs.

You have never minded taking orders when they’re that eager, and twenty seconds later you’re standing completely naked next to the couch as he finishes kicking off his jeans and pulling off the undershirt that he was wearing under his plaid. He’s softer now, a slight belly where there used to be flat abs, and his thighs thicker with that little bit of inevitable padding that has kept strong muscles safe over the years. The body of a god right up to the cowboy pornstache and it makes you grin wickedly. “Lie back, baby,” you insist, moving to get back on the sofa and straddle his waist again.

He fucking loved, loved, when you rode him. Always teasing that he was your broncin' buck and you were trying to break him in. Laying down and reaching for you, noticing your breasts have changed and loving that fact. Giving him the daughter that is next door changed your body and when he gets the chance, he's going to kiss and praise each change individually. "Jesus, I don't remember the last time I've been this hard." He groans, cock twitching against his stomach.

“Probably the last time I was this wet.” Rolling your hips forward in his lap drags your dripping cunt along the underside of his cock and makes you both moan. “Fuck, Jack.” Actually having him beneath you again and not just imagining him with your fingers between your thighs is a head rush of the highest order, making you wish you could still swivel your hips like you used to, to just slide him right inside you.

"Yeah?" Jack grunts, tensing his stomach muscles and making his cock lift a few inches off his belly. "You like the feel of that cock against your pussy, sweetheart?" He moans himself when you grind down against him a little harder. "You— you should feel it inside you again, just to be sure you like it."

Steadying yourself with one hand on the back of the sofa, your other wraps around his thick length eagerly, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance when you lift your hips. It’s all a series of relatively small movements, but sinking down on him – slowly, because shit you forgot how thick he is – is that perfect, sinful version of heaven you’ve been missing for years and years. The way your pussy has to stretch to accommodate him makes you cry out in pleasure, head dropping back while all your focus jumps to the twitching cock inside you.

Hissing between his clenched teeth, Jack tries to stay still. To not buck up and bury himself deep as your tight walls slide over him. He's already about to bust and he will curse himself blue if he disappoints you like that. Needing to make sure that you cum at least twice before he lets go himself. Especially since he hadn't eaten that pretty little cunt like he should have. After, he'll do that after. Right now, his hands are clawing at your hips and his feet are pushing against the end of the sofa so hard the damn thing creaks in protest.

There is no wasted time here, no pause to absorb or adjust, just the greedy rhythm of rise and fall as you set a slow pace riding him. He looks exquisite underneath you – like some kind of pornographic Renaissance painting – and you let yourself fall forward to press another earnest, sloppy kiss to his lips.

Jack pants against your lips, eyes fixed on you as you bounce on his cock. His hands helping you rise and sink down on him. Encouraging you to ride him at your pace but also encouraging you when your pace falters.

“M-missed you so fucking much.” It falls from your lips without thinking, the roar of your pounding blood too much to blot out the rambling of your heart. “Always l-loved you.”

"God, I love you." He breathes out, feeling like he's drowning at how harshly he's breathing and still cannot get air. He loves it. Winding his arms around you like steel bands and dragging you down to his chest while he starts to thrust up into you.

Fingertips grasping his chest for purchase mean your nails scrape over his nipples, making him gasp and you grin. He always liked just a touch of pain with his pleasure, the roughness being a gorgeous byproduct of how needy you both always were for each other.

“Fuck!” Jack bucks his hips up, dragging you down to bite on your bottom lip and grind up into you. Sex with you was always unrestrained and it seems like nothing has changed. Sure the parts are aged, but the two of you seem to work like a well-oiled machine together. The memories come back in a flood with every touch – what he liked best and the things you had discovered together. Your skin burns under his attention, his tongue tracing searing circles on your neck and chest and large hands imprinting themselves on your sides as he clutches you against him.

Groaning against your skin, he reacquaints himself with your taste. There’s nothing like it, intoxicating and completely you. “Good girl.” He pants. “You’re just as sweet as the first time I had you.”

You keen at the praise, never having been shy about loving it from him, and grind yourself down on his cock with a gasp. The extra friction of coarse hair at the base of his shaft on your sensitive clit makes you buck and whine, as your thighs starting to shake and the tightening coil in your belly heralds an orgasm like you haven’t felt in years.

“That’s it. That’s it.” Jack growls, watching you fall apart in awe. You’ve always been breathtaking when you cum, but this time is punching him in the gut. Making him lunge up and capture your lips with his own, swallowing your cries for himself.

Shaking in his arms isn’t a new sensation for you, but it’s like you’re feeling it for the first time all over again. Sobbing his own name into that kiss is like a prayer, and you feel for a moment like you’re floating on the most wonderful cloud in the world as he fucks you slowly through the aftershocks.

Jack hums, slowly lowering himself back down to the couch and sighing, stroking your back gently as you pant on his chest. “Like riding the best bike.”

“Not done yet,” you hum, regaining the rise and fall rhythm after the moment you need to catch your breath.

Jack chuckles and slides his hand down to grip your ass. “What if I told you I came?” He asks playfully.

“No you didn’t.” Your chuckle is throaty and deep. “You’re still hard, and you didn’t do the thing with your eyebrows.” The thing happens every time, or at least it used to, and the way his forehead would knit together in intense concentration only for his eyebrows to raise up fully in relaxation afterward became one of your favorite little quirks of his.

He chuckles again, shaking his head as he wonders how you know him so well. "Guilty." He strokes your back and hums. "I just don't want you too sore, darlin'."

“If you really don’t want to fill me up, I guess I understand.” Rolling your hips in a figure right in his lap draws a sharp gasp from him and you grin. “But I’ll be glad to be sore from taking you.”

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna kill me.” He groans and grins at you. “Make me cum.” He orders, slapping your hip playfully.

“You’d love to go out with your cock wet.” Nipping at his bottom lip, you only pull away so you can sit up in his lap. It gives him the best view of your tits as you ramp up your pace, bouncing on his cock with renewed vigor.

“Only if it’s your juices on my cock.” He huffs, reaching up and cupping one of your tits. “Fuck baby.” He watches you with wonder. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

It’s a race now, fingertips finding your clit and rubbing fierce circles over the swollen nub to see if you can find a second peak along with him. “Come on, baby.” There’s no better feeling than this one, right here, and you keep your eyes steady on him despite how badly they want to flutter shut. “Cum in me. F—fuck! Fill me up, Jack.”

His hips are bucking up off the sofa, his arms the only thing keeping you anchored and not flying off his cock. Whining at how good you feel around him. When he cums, blood rushes into his ears and his shout is loud and pleasure filled.

You collapse easily into his chest, panting for breath in the wake of that rushed second orgasm that just barely followed his. The combination of your own cum with his paints your pussy just as assuredly as sweat has beaded on his chest, but you lean up to kiss the space between his eyebrows with a grin. That ecstatic expression on his face when his eyebrows raise will never get old.

Humming, he purses his lips at you until you kiss him. Relaxing into the sofa now that both of you are satisfied. “Still batting a thousand.” He jokes, remembering the small teasing way you had set up a scoring system on sex.

Huffing playfully, you can’t help but grin at him. “Does it help or hurt your average that you actually fucked me so hard that you bypassed my birth control?”

“I think that counts as a grand slam.” He jokes, sliding his hands up and down your back slowly as the two of you relax. “Technically speaking, I did exactly what the act is supposed to do.”

“Technically.” You can’t really disagree with that, so you just snuggle happily into his arms and giggle slightly to yourself. “Way better than a walk.”

“Yes it was.” He agrees with a smirk, leaning up to kiss the top of your head. “Although, we do still need to talk.” It’s a hell of an ice breaker though, considering his cock is still inside you.

“I guess.” The exaggerated roll of your eyes is only to make him smile, and you draw yourself away from him reluctantly. “Give me just a minute to use the bathroom and then we can pretend to be rational adults?”

“It should be in the same location as yours.” He agrees, sitting up as you stand. “No weird tech watching you in there.” He promises with a wink. “Just old-fashioned leering on my part.”

“You’re allowed.” You promise him, striding off to his downstairs bathroom to clean yourself up and steal a moment of composure. However this conversation goes, it’s sure to be emotional.

While you're gone, Jack tugs on his boxer briefs and pours the two of you another round of whiskey. He hadn't expected the sex, even though it was great. He had truly meant for the two of you talk. He picks up your clothes and folds them neatly to set on a chair for you to dress or not, and turns on the gas fireplace. He misses the wood burning fireplace in Kentucky but can't fault the convenience of this.

When you return just a few minutes later, a self-consciousness has set in that has stolen the sway from your hips and made you grateful that Jack had stacked your clothes because it makes it a hell of a lot faster to pull them on. Not that that reunion wasn’t amazing – but you were supposed to be talking.

As disappointed as he is that you are dressing, he understands it. After you button the last button, he saunters over to you and hands you the whiskey glass. “So, what do you want, darlin’?” He asks softly. “Perfect world.”

“Perfect world?” You sip the amber liquid with a sigh – Statesman is actually incredibly tasty – and let your eyes shut for just a moment on the fantasy. The one you’ve had thousands of times over the years. “You.” You murmur, buying yourself a moment with another small sip. “Us. Our family together.”

“Okay.” He’s a little relieved that you are making it so easy for him. “I want to make sure that we make the right choices, and our daughter is priority.” He doesn’t want to fuck up or make some kind of mistake with her. “Let me know what kind of role you want me to have.”

“I want you to be as involved as you want to be.” It seems like a pithy answer, but it’s honest. You don’t have any idea how demanding his life is, or what his completely insane job might necessitate. “In a perfect world – the fantasy one – we would decide we can’t live without each other and we’d get married, and you’d be there for everything. But your life is…it’s more complicated than that. And I don’t know what is realistic to ask of you.”

Jack nods, understanding what you are saying. “I think that marriage would be the goal for us.” He says honestly. “But I do want you to see if you can handle the life I live. Date me and see if I match the memory in your pretty head.”

“I might not match what you remember, either.” Or, your worst fear, he may decide he doesn’t want to be a father after all. Actually make the conscious decision to leave you and Mallory. “Dating seems like the smart plan.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Changed some, maybe less partying and semipublic sex, but I doubt you are much different that the girl I fell in love with.”

“Definitely less public sex.” There’s no debating that, and you practically snort into your drink as you shake your head. “My life is Mallory now. I go to the office, and I have Mal. That’s it.”

He nods, knowing that his own life is just work. “When I’m not on assignment, I’m normally just in the office every day.”

“But when you are…” Your eyes tick up to his. “You’re in danger.”

“Sometimes.” He admits but shoots you a grin. “But I’m real good at my job, darlin’.”

“So what happens when you go on a mission?” It’s the thing you can’t really wrap your head around, for obvious reasons. “I’m assuming it’s not all…shoot ups and seductions like in the movies?” At least you hope not.

Jack snorts and shakes his head. “A lot of times it’s boring intel gathering.” He explains. “And to be honest, the seduction gets old after a while. Some of these women look like little girls!” He huffs. “I’m getting old, starting to leave that to Tequila. He’s still a young buck.”

“Tequila?” The code name makes you laugh, snorting softly at how silly it sounds to your untrained ear. “Are you all named after liquor?”

“Champ is short for Champagne.” He tells you with a grin. “But don’t let him hear you callin’ him that.”

“He didn’t strike me as a champagne guy, but that was just a first impression.” Sitting back down on the couch, you draw your legs up beside you and wrap both hands around your glass with a tentative expression on your face. “So…you wouldn’t be getting shot at or sleeping with other women every time?”

“If we are together, I won’t be sleeping with anyone but you.” Jack assures you. “I’m too old to play games. Never was a man who liked a cheat.”

“Okay.” You reach for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I…I wouldn’t have stopped you from doing your job. But it would have made me uncomfortable.”

He understands, if the roles were reversed, he would feel the same. “So we date, and we make sure that we are giving our daughter a healthy relationship to look up to.” Jack chuckles. “It’s a damn good thing you live next door.”

“We’re honest with each other and we communicate.” Never in your life have you sat and methodically plotted out your relationship like this, but maybe that was okay. Maybe doing something different was key. After all, none of those other relationships had stuck, had they? There must have been a reason. “All she’s ever wanted is to have her dad in her life. She’s going to be thrilled.”

“Darlin’, you’ve—” Jack chokes up slightly and slides closer to you. Setting his glass down so he can cup your cheek. His eyes are slightly watery but he doesn’t give a damn. “You’ve given me the best gift I could have ever imagine.” He chokes out softly. “You’re back in my life and you’ve given me a daughter, a family.”

“I hope you’re ready for baseball games and Taylor Swift concerts.” Smiling against his hand is the easiest feeling in the world, lighting you up from the inside out. “And Disney and horror movies in equal measure.”

“I’m ready for it all.” Jack grins. “Statesman has season tickets to the Yankees.”

"If you weren't already her dad, that would make you her favourite person." Setting your glass down again, you can allow yourself the luxury of sinking into his arms and inhaling the comforting smell of his cologne and whatever makes up him – along with the smell of sex that always seems to accompany you. Especially back then. "I love you, Jack." You murmur, roping your arms around him. "Always have."

“I love you too, darlin’.” Jack presses his lips to your forehead and sighs softly. “I love you so much, and I promises you – now that I’ve got you back in my arms again – I’m never lettin’ you go.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat​ @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri    

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #dad jack #dad!jack

[subdee]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @hxhhasmysoul, thanks munen for always thinking of me even though I haven't written anything for like... a year.

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

27

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

153,197

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Hunter x Hunter and Final Fantasy VII (original 1997 game) are the main ones, and then there are a few others that are either old or that time I wrote historical RPF for yuletide.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

(All five are T-rated  Hunter x Hunter fics.)

1)Freecs Adventure Travel Co.- I think this is because it’s tagged ‘slowburn’ and recced on a list with other slowburn fics…  I have this drafted out to the end, it has one more chapter left (and it’s not really a slowburn, aha).  A post canon Killugon reunion fic + Alluka. 

2) Paper Ties – This is a short oneshot about Killua/Alluka/Kalluto originally written for a secret santa exchange.  The writing’s just okay, but a lot of people have this bookmarked and I think it’s probably because they like my explanation for why Kalluto knows nen at the start of HxH, but Killua doesn’t.

3) On a Cold and Snowy Night- A Killugon There Was Only One Bed oneshot originally written for a valentine’s day exchange.  I think people just really like this trope. 

4) There's a Light That Never Goes Out  - It’s another post canon Killugon reunion fic, this time without Alluka (or she’s mentioned, but offscreen).  Listen, HxH fans love reunion fics! 

5) Dungeon x Hunter – a finished multichapter AU where Killua, Gon, Leorio and Kurapika are college friends who play Dungeons and Dragons together.  Inspired by something a friend said forever ago about how Kurapika is like the ultimate DnD rules lawyer min-maxing all his stats. 

...Actually except for On a Cold and Snowy Night, what these all have in common is that they’re among the first things I wrote after I rejoined the fandom.  So I think there’s just a network effect here where people are finding them via bookmarks. 

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always reply right away, I spend the day after I post anything refreshing my inbox basically. 

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Either my FFVI Barret backstory fic Corel Days or the one I wrote for FFVII Halloween with prompt: Annihilation.  Those both had the Major Character Death tag on them and like… no one clicks on them.  Haha.  They’re sad because of the character death but also sad because they’re about climate change and fans just aren’t generally here for that level of downer.      

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics end either happily or ambiguously besides those two, but I’d call Dungeon x Hunter my most “nothing bad happened” story where there’s not really much conflict, and when there is conflict it’s resolved quickly. 

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Never, and I don’t really get spam comments either… maybe once or twice I’ve gotten requests to write a particular pairing but like 99% of the comments I get are really lovely positive ones from other writers. 

9. Do you write smut?

 I haven’t because I’m lazy and smut is hard to write….There’s a fade to black sex scene in my Frederick the Great Space AU and actually, an implied sex scene in my forever ago Libertines AU where Carl Barat turns into a cat, but that’s the closest I’ve ever come.  Most of what I write is rated T. 

10. Do you write crossovers?

I have written crossovers!   It was a long time ago, and they were mostly short what-ifs, like, what if Arthur Dent met Light Yagami?   I think it’s more fun to imagine the crossovers in your head than to actually write them, they don’t usually have plots but it’s fun to imagine how the characters would interact.    

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so?  I’m not really that popular. 

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Actually yes, I think?   Someone translated a Death Note fic a long time ago.  It’s not on Ao3 though. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, actually!  My Libertines AU where Carl Barat turns into a cat was co-written by the lovely 0_clay_0 who was my favorite writer in the fandom at the time.   So that was pretty great.  She lives in Germany and I went to visit her once, any of you guys out there wondering what the appeal of writing RPF is, it’s that you can meet amazing people who live all around the world if you’re both really passionate about the same thing. 

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Probably Killugon, but I’m getting nostalgic for the Pete/Carl fic as I write this post, haha.  I think the writing in that fandom (Libertiens RPF) was the best of any fandom I’ve ever been in, by a long shot…  Ranma/Akane (Ranma ½) also has a strong nostalgic pull for me. 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

I’m gonna finish Freecs Adventure Travel Co, I swear!!!!!   That’s my only posted (to AO3) WIP… most of what I post are oneshots because I know my own limits. 

16. What are your writing strengths?

Varying my sentence lengths.   Also filling in backstory and gaps in the canon, and writing 'densely' so there's multiple ideas per paragraph.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Anything that requires effort: plotting, dialog, action scenes, sex scenes… Most of what I write doesn’t require me to think that hard about what I’m doing.   

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If it was in-character I would do it.  There’s a certain kind of reader that would enjoy the challenge of having to look up the translation, some people like it when you make them make an effort.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It was Naruto... now THAT is a WIP I’m never going to finish LOL.  

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I’ve said this before, but it’s my Pariging Coffee Shop AU.   I like how Ging’s character came out, he’s not really the same Ging from canon but it works.  And it’s kinda funny?  I’m always writing close to canon but I like reading AUs more, so I'm happy I finally wrote one that's fun for me to re-read.

I'm supposed to tag 20 people for this... here goes! @fury-brand @rosemochi @cateringisalie @nautilusopus @voidcat-senket @recents @ladycrescentvenus @mysterypond @dimensionten @clood @cafeaulater @storybookprincess @dodici12 @cocoa-bop @rabbitprint @kiwizoom @autumnxsunflower @ishouldgetatumbler @fireolin @minimoonstar

#tag game #thanks for the tag <3 #my fic

[flimflam707]

Detective Satan and assistant MC [Obey me Fic+Art]

A/N: Hello @tulipsaisle ! I'm your secret Santa! I decided to write a fic about an adventure with Satan and the mc :) I hope you enjoy it and - MERRY CHRISTMAS HOHOHO

Thanks @lemeowade for organising this event <3

(Btw I didn't get to proofread it, 'cause it's exam period for me now haha, I used this event to justify procrastinating lmao)

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 1275

Masterlist

“Aha! More footsteps! Let’s follow them.” Satan cried out. You had been following the same trail of footsteps for 20 minutes already. You crossed the street, walked past majolish and that one store where Levi gets his manga. “Are you sure that it stayed within the city?” you asked, “If it left the city then there is no way we’ll find it again.” Satan wagged his finger. “Tsk, no no. Rule number one of sleuthing. Never give up once you have a trail. We will find this cat, even if it’s the last thing I’ll do!”

(1 hour earlier)

You and Satan left the catcafé after a well deserved break. A couple of weeks ago the place opened and the two of you had already become regulars, the cats even looked up when hearing your names. Quite adorable. “Did you see how Nifty rubbed her hear against me?” Satan asked, still on a high from the affection he got from the feline. “I did.” You responded. “It was so adorable! And the bell around her neck clanged so happily when you started playing with him.” Satan smiled more at that comment. The cats really seemed to like him and it was the biggest piece of joy in his life. You decided to head back to the house of Lamentation, because you still needed to study for a human charming test. Memorising spells sucks. You thought. You were looking around, trying to find anything and everything to use as an excuse not to go home when you suddenly saw Asmo running across the street. “GET BACK HERE YOU THIEF!” He yelled. “What is this all about?” You commented. Satan looked up, seemingly indifferent about the situation. “Hm? Don’t know, don’t care.” He said as he walked past his screeching brother. Asmo continued as he continued running into an ally. “GIVE ME MY NECKLACE BACK CAT! YOU FIEND!” …. Satan’s head whipped around and he came to a halt. “Cat?” He whispered. “Did he just say… Cat?” He enunciated every word. “I guess.” You said. “Let’s see what’s happening” He quickly responded. He grabbed your hand and rushed into the ally, following his brother. Wow, he switched his attitude quickly after hearing the word cat. You thought. However, you were very grateful to Asmo’s screeching. Now you could procrastinate more, yes! 

The two of you entered the ally and saw Asmo yelling to a furry creature sitting atop the wall that closes the ally. “I said! Give it back!” He cried. The cat didn’t seem to pay him much mind. He wagged his tail while holding on to a shiny gold necklace. “What is going on?” Satan questioned. Asmo turned around: “O perfect!” He said, tears welling up in his eyes. “I just returned from buying that gorgeous necklace. I was going to wear it to school tomorrow, ‘cause it matched a shirt I have perfectly. However,” He turned again, now facing the cat. “This little THIEF, stole it from me!” The cat wagged his tail again, content to be out of reach. “I have been chasing it all through town!” The cat purred, enjoying the show. However, it soon became bored. It turned around and hopped down to the other side of the wall. “NOOO” Asmo cried once more. How can someone yell that much? You questioned. “Now I’ll never find it again.” He dejectedly looked down. “No need to fear dear younger brother of mine.” Satan said in a voice that can only be described as the voice of a protagonist. “It is clear to me now. This is a case for a detective and his assistant.” He put on a detective hat and was holding a magnifying glass. Where did those come from? “We will find that necklace for you!” He grabbed your hand. “Detective Satan and his assistant are on the care!” You interjected. “Can’t we both be detectives? Why do I have to be an assistant.” “Because every detective needs an assistant, everyone knows that. And I’m not gonna be one, so..” He shrugged his shoulders and Asmo asked. “So, will you two return my necklace?” Satan put his nose up into the air; “Of course dear younger brother, no need to fear. You just return home and well find that cat and return your jewellery.” “Yay!” Asmo commented. “Then I’ll leave it to you! Bye bye you two.” His good spirits seemed to have returned. Asmo strolled out of the ally, leaving Satan and you by yourselves. Wait no. I mean detective Satan and his assistant! “So, where do we start?” You asked. “Find clues.” He responded. “So, lets follow the trail this cat left behind until we find him and solve the case of the lost necklace!”

(Back to the present)

“Satan, we have been running around for over forty-five minutes, we questioned a bunch of people and cats and we’ve lost our trail. Maybe it’s time to call it quits and go home.” Your watch indicated that it was almost time for dinner. Luckily it wasn’t your day to cook, but still, you had had it with the detective stuff. “No!” He interjected. “We still haven’t found the cat, nor the necklace! We can’t return now. Asmo will lose all hope.” Right, that’s the reason. Not ‘cause you wanna continue playing Sherlock Holmes. “Fine. However, if we don’t find any more clues in the next fifteen minutes then I’m going home.” You said, giving an ultimatum. “Deal.” he quickly responded. You let out a sigh. The cat had disappeared from your sight a while ago, the chance that you’ll find it again was quite slim. However, the blond haired demon next to you refused to give up. It was quite admirable. You continued your search, questioning more passerbys and cats. You wondered if Satan really had learned the language of cats or if he was just messing around in the name of ‘questioning their kind’. Several minutes passed with no luck in finding clues. You looked at your watch once more: “It’s been fifteen minutes, Satan. Let’s return, I don’t think we’re gonna find it again.” You said to him, “Let’s give this one to the cats.” Satan looked down dejectedly. You were right. “It seems the great detective Satan has failed.” He sighed. You grabbed his hand and started walking towards the house of Lamentation. You passed the bookshop, the grocery store, the cat café where you were sitting an hour and a half ago and majolish where the crime first took place. Your eyes swept over the small ally next to the store. A flash shooting across it. Huh? You thought. What was that? Satan was still walking next to you. At first he was unaware of your discovery, he was still gloomy about his failure as a detective. However, then he felt you slowing your steps and your gaze was focused on a dark ally. “What is i-” He started, but he was interrupted when you swiftly pulled him into the ally. “There it is! The culprit!” You yelled. “What?!” He questioned perplexed. You let go of his hand, stealthily snuck upon the cat (without being noticed) and grabbed the necklace that he was holding in his mouth! “Got it! I got it, Satan!” You celebrated. You had been victorious! Satan grabbed your shoulders, a smile on his face. “Good job! Detective Satan and his assistant do it again!” Your brows furrowed. You shook your head, removed the detective hat from his head and put it on yourself. “Wrong.” You paused, looking at him dramatically. “It was detective MC and assistant Satan who cracked the case.”

#SSEvent #fanart #fanfic #obey me #obey me Satan #detective satan

[albertonykus]

Doraemon Movie Review: Nobita's Sky Utopia (2023)

What is Doraemon? The title character of the Doraemon manga and anime is a blue robotic cat from the 22nd Century who keeps an array of high-tech gadgets in a portable pocket dimension on his belly, and has traveled from the future to improve the fortunes of a hapless schoolboy named Nobita. Although relatively obscure in the English-speaking world, Doraemon is a Mickey-Mouse-level cultural icon in East Asia (and some other regions, too). The Doraemon franchise was a big part of my childhood, and there are still elements of it that I enjoy now.

Doraemon has released theatrical films almost annually since 1980, most of which involve Nobita and his friends (kind Shizuka, brash Gian, and crafty Suneo) getting swept into adventures thanks to Doraemon's gadgets. Despite being of potentially broad appeal to fans of science fiction and animated films, there are very few English reviews of the Doraemon movies, so I've embarked on a project to write about all the films, for as long as I continue watching them, at least.

For links to all of my Doraemon movie reviews, see here.

Movie premise: Nobita thinks life would be much better if he lived in a utopia, and asks Doraemon to help him find one.

My spoiler-free take: Although it could perhaps benefit from minor adjustments to the pacing and writing, this is an emotionally charged movie that is a solid addition to the Doraemon cinematic lineup.

POTENTIAL SPOILERS AFTER THIS POINT

Review: There are quite a few things I enjoyed about this film. The story is well crafted for most part, making effective use of foreshadowing. It's certainly one of the most emotionally driven Doraemon movies, with several heartfelt moments among the characters, especially between Nobita and Doraemon and between Doraemon and the "perfect" robot cat Sonya. Speaking of which, Doraemon being the main protagonist to forge a connection with one of the movie characters is a rare occurrence! Additionally, Sonya himself probably qualifies as one of the more memorable and developed movie-exclusive characters in the franchise.

If I were to criticize anything about this movie, one would be that it's very exposition heavy. I have to wonder whether some of the scenes dedicated to explaining background information and character backstories through dialogue could have been trimmed down just a bit, especially given that there were other elements of the story that could have used the extra runtime. For example, Shizuka, Gian, and Suneo don't get a whole lot of focus this time around.

I do appreciate though that the movie actually highlights one of Shizuka's flaws other than "she plays violin badly"—she can be stubborn, which is true... even if the way it is shown here makes her come across as studious more than anything. The scene where the protagonists come around to embracing their shortcomings is also a well done character moment.

That being said, there are ways in which the central theme of the story (essentially "it's okay not to be perfect") could have been handled with more nuance. After all, Gian and Suneo's misbehavior is regularly shown to cause real harm to others throughout the franchise. I know, there are limits to how deeply one can explore a moral conundrum in a children's film, but I don't believe this would have been too challenging to achieve. Perhaps more emphasis could have been placed on learning to control one's flaws and redirecting them into exacting positive change, contrasting with the villain's plan to forcibly erase all individuality. Glimmers of this are already present in the aforementioned scene, but I think it could have been made more explicit still, which isn't helped by the fact that the main villain only appears in person briefly and barely interacts with the heroes.

On the whole, however, these weaknesses didn't detract much from my viewing experience, and I'd consider this a worthwhile entry in the Doraemon film series.

Star rating: ★★★★☆

#Doraemon #Anime #Nobita's Sky Utopia #ドラえもん

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday - Aristeia (working title)

Tagged by @dirty-bosmer thank you thank you

tagging: @thana-topsy, @expended-sleeper, @tallmatcha @gilgamish @nientedenada

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T (blood and violence) Category: gen Genre(s): Adventure, Homer retelling Main characters: Borgakh the Steel Heart, the orcs of Mor Khazgur

Summary: When the chief of Mor Khazgur goes missing, male orcs from across the Reach show up to vie for the stronghold, causing chaos and disruption in their corner of Skyrim. The wives of Mor Khazgur must figure out how to deal with them while they wait for their chief's return.

I blame @thana-topsy for the Pavo Attius/Gat gro-Shargakh brainworms. Everyone go read Finding Mara and join me in the worm bin.

This is a pretty extended snippet, because the chapter's almost dooooooone~!

3rd First Seed, 4E 195 Borgakh did not need familiar landmarks to tell her they were getting close to the stronghold. She could smell it.

The daylight was waning as the mountains of the western Reach swallowed up the sun, casting long blue shadows over the land. Olur had spotted a clean spring for Borgakh to wash up, and there had been an untouched patch of wild winter radishes growing in the clay. They had picked all that they could fit in their packs and on Karagh’s saddlebags - all in all, a much more productive expedition than either of them had had for many months.

They crested the final hillock; Mor Khazgur dominated the shallow valley below. When she had been younger, Borgakh had often imagined the longhouse was a lazy cat asleep on a bright green rug, curled up against the rocks of the Druadach Mountains. When the stronghold’s goats were pastured in the glade, they played the role of mice scurrying about under the cat’s nose.

Now, there was no bright green rug, or herd of goats browsing the first buds of spring; the ground in front Mor Khazgur was a frozen mud pit.

Tents with various clan symbols painted on their roofs and sides crowded around the stronghold stockade with not even a semblance of order. The orc men who had arrived first had set up their lodgings without care for the foot paths, winter forage, or even well-tended herb beds outside of the walls. Later arrivals followed suit, until every bit of grass and brush had been ground into the dirt.

Then the thawing rains came and the winter snow had melted, and turned the broken mess into a mire.

Borgakh could hear shouting from the central bonfire of the camp, the one thing the orc men seemed to be able to work together to maintain. The stumps of the trees used to feed it stuck up from the ground where thick copses used to be.

“We should go around the side to the gate,” she said.

Olur continued to lead Kharagh down the slope to the main entrance of Mor Khazgur. “We meet our fates head-on, like Malacath commands, Borgakh. I for one won’t slink in like a thief to my own stronghold.”

Borgakh sighed, her stomach starting to knot. Coming home to Mor Khazgur used to be a source of comfort, a safe refuge from the harsh environment of the Reach.

Father used to be here.

Now every time she approached she had to run a gauntlet. Kharagh snorted at the mud, picking his feet up high with each step.

I don’t like it either, old friend, she thought and reached out to pat his neck. We’ll be through it soon.

Olur pulled up sharply, peering down into the crowd below. Borgakh followed his gaze, and saw what had caught his attention.

An orc leading a spotted mule and a human man were at the gate to Mor Khazgur.. They were surrounded by angry orc men. Borgakh could see some reaching for weapons.

“Pit, that’s Pavo and Gat-” Olur said before breaking into a ground covering jog, throwing Karagh’s lead at Borgakh. Borgakh swore and followed him, pulling a protesting Karagh behind her and loosening her knife in its sheath as she did so.

The mud was slippery and it was difficult going; Olur quickly outpaced her, breaking a trail through both the muck and the crowd. As he reached the knot at the gate, the shouting crescendoed and one of the orcs struck the human across the face, knocking him into the logs of the palisade.

The orc leading the mule was on the one who had struck the blow in an instant, his larger mass bearing the other to the ground with a thud that Borgakh felt through her boots. Olur had reached the man, and hauled him to his feet just in time as the orc men formed a circle around the grappling pair, stomping their feet and yelling encouragement and insults.

The orc that had assaulted the man was one of the newer arrivals; Borgakh did not know his name. It would probably not matter in a few minutes, not with the way Gat was driving his fist into his face.

Despite the blows he was taking from Gat, the other orc managed to get his axe free from his belt and swung it at Gat’s head. Gat intercepted the blow, and with a practiced twist jerked it out of the other orc’s hand and flung it away. Several of the onlookers were forced to jump out of the way as the axe flew by at eye-level.

Borgakh pushed her way to Olur and Pavo. Pavo’s brow was split and bleeding. The mule let out an anxious bray as the crowd grew wilder, adding to the din.

“We just came to trade-” Pavo was saying, swaying on his feet despite bracing himself on Olur’s arm.

“Can you get him inside?” Olur asked, transferring Pavo’s grip from his arm to Borgakh’s shoulder.

Borgakh, who had just grabbed the mule’s lead to prevent it from bolting, looked at him in annoyance. “How many hands do you think I-”

“Stop this at once!”

The authoritative voice cut through the noise and chaos, and in a few moments silence had descended on the crowd.

Gat landed another blow before standing, and turned to the stronghold.

Sharamph, Wise Woman of the stronghold, stood on one of the scaffolds that lined the inside of the stronghold defenses. She surveyed the assembled mass of orc men with a sneer.

“The wives of Mor Khazgur are still in seclusion. Fighting over the Chieftainship before it has ended is an affront to them and the Code!”

“I apologize for the disturbance, Wise-Woman,” said Gat, ignoring the other orc who was just now staggering to his feet. “I have no desire to fight for the leadership of Mor Khazgur, merely to extract the Blood-Price from the one who insulted my blood-kin.”

“And are you satisfied?” Sharamph asked.

Gat now looked over at the orc he had bested. Blood was oozing from his nose, and smeared around his mouth. Borgakh guessed he would wear the bruises of his defeat for a fortnight at least.

Gat looked over to where Pavo was leaning against Borgakh, holding a hand to his head. “Yes, I am satisfied.”

“If they aren’t competing for the right to be chief, then send them away! They have no business here.” Ansug gro-Yufethz, one of the first to arrive and declare his intention to fight for the right to be Chieftain of Mor Khazgur, stepped forward, and addressed Sharamph. “If you allow unrelated orc men in your stronghold during seclusion, then what meaning does that word have?”

“He is not an orc, and he has come to trade,” said Sharamph, indicating Pavo. “We need supplies after the winter, and the miners of Kolskeggr have always trusted our smithy for their tools. If you deny him entry you are only weakening the stronghold you wish to lead.”

Ansug narrowed his eyes and glared at Pavo, but after a moment relented. Borgakh was relieved - he was the largest and most influential among the candidates for Chief, and if he agreed, the others were likely to do so as well.

“Very well. The Imperial can enter for trade. But the orc must stay outside!”

Sharamph nodded once and disappeared behind the pointed timbers of the stronghold wall.

“Gat, I don’t like this-” Pavo said as Gat returned to his side.

“I’ll be fine,” Gat said, quickly removing a pack and a bedroll from the mule’s back. “I’ve slept in rougher places than this, you know that. I’ve got rations and our tent, and there’s no elves slinging firebolts at us. What more could I want?”

“But-”

“Olur, I think Juniper lost a few nails from her near-hind shoe in the mud.” Gat interrupted Pavo. “Will you be able to take a look while Pavo trades with Shuftharz?”

“Of course. Take him inside, Borgakh.”

The heavy gate swung open as Borgakh clicked to Karagh and Juniper. Pavo was standing on his own now, and Gat put a hand on his arm and bent down to whisper something in his ear. Pavo nodded and Gat gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder before hefting his pack and bedroll and disappearing into the crowd.

As she passed through the threshold of the gate, Borgakh felt tension she had not realized she was carrying leaving her neck and shoulders.

“Ghamorz, get the packs from the mule and bring them inside,” Sharamph said to the orc that closed the gate behind them.

“Do you really think Gat will be alright out there?” Pavo was already turning around and was staring at the closed gate. He opened his mouth to say something more, but was interrupted by Sharamph gripping his chin and turning his head in order to cast an experienced eye on the cut over his brow.

“This will need cleaning,” she said. “Come with me.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I should really see to Juniper first-”

“Borgakh will see to your animal. Your goods will be safe in the longhouse, but your blood is still flowing; much more and Gat will be compelled to extract more from that idiot to make up the difference.”

#mor khazgur #fic: aristeia #borgakh the steel heart #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim #tesblr #wip wednesday #kb writes #orc posting hours #it's not easy being green #orc #hot orc summer

[fictionalstoryteller]

How the Main Characters of LMK Would Babysit Your Kid

Fandom: Lego Monkie Kid

Characters: MK, Mei, Sandy, Tang, & Pigsy

TW: none at all! Just wholesome fluff here ^^

Hello there new people! Yes yes, welcome to my first post on Tumblr. These are just some personal head cannons of mine, so if you have any critiques or questions please ask me about them in the comments. I also plan to do this for the side characters and antagonists of the show, so be on the lookout for that! Now let’s get this show on the road 🚗💨

MK:

With all due respect, why would you let him babysit your kid?! He’s the main protagonist! Something bad is bound to happen, no matter how good of a job he does

Ok but in all seriousness he’s probably going to take his job super seriously. So seriously, in fact, that he’ll swear off any crazy adventures for the day I doubt that’ll stop the antagonists from messing with him though

Knowing MK he’ll get slightly freaked out by the notion of letting you down

When you finally drop your kid off MK has already set aside some crayons and paper on the counter

They both do some doodling, order some noodles, and talk about how cool Monkey king is

If it’s a good day for it then MK might even take the kid to visit Monkey King! He’s got good connections man 

Mk gets distracted super easily so he definitely lost the kid at LEAST once

Overall I’d rate him a 6.8/10. He has an energetic and lovable personality, and he will definitely will give it his all. That being said he can’t focus to save his life. And he’s the main protagonist. So there’s a 50/50 chance that he’ll end up taking the kid on some wacky adventure of his on accident 

Mei:

Yes this is definitely a good idea. The hyper green skittle themed teen with parent issues will totally make a good babysitter! What? No of course I’m not being sarcastic! Whatever gave you that idea? 🤭

Mei probably volunteered for the job because she likes your kid, after all she definitely isn’t in need of any money 

You’ll have to drop your kid off at Pigsy’s Noodles since Mei wouldn’t want the kid to break anything at her parents place

She doesn’t really have a plan for the day, so they start off the babysitting session playing Monkey Mech, the arcade machine game in front of Pigsy’s noodles

Mei definitely offered to take the kid on a ride on her motorcycle. But don’t worry! I’m sure she had an extra helmet! Heh…

Ok let’s be honest, Mei gave your kid a crap ton of sugar. Like your kid is gonna need to brush their teeth at least three times before going to bed-

Luckily your kid ends up running all of the sugar out of their system before you pick them up thanks to Mei’s liveliness

No way your kids going to be bored. After all, Mei is super energetic and basically radiates cool older sister energy! But there are some negatives, especially because she does less then… responsible things at times. (Like letting a kid ride a motorcycle) she means well! She just doesn’t want to be as boring as her parents were. I’d give her a solid 6/10

Sandy:

Sandy couldn’t be happier that you chose HIM of all people to babysit your precious little angel. 

This overgrown Smurf already bought a ton of stuff for your kid to use while at his place, even though they’re only going to be there for a couple of hours

You’ll have to drop your kid off at Sandy’s houseboat for babysitting time

If your kid is allergic to cats then your out of luck, because he has 28 cats besides Mo. (and yes… this is canon…) BUT if your kid loves cats they’ll practically be in heaven. Especially since they’re all technically therapy cats, so they’re bound to be nice! Heh- Right?

This man has the best type of snacks for your kid, a mixture of salty and savory stuff! And if you want him to he can also pull out some tea for the kid. No one’s going home hungry today. No one.

If Sandy ever got distracted Mo would be there to make sure your kid wouldn’t do anything dangerous

Since Sandy’s house radiates calm energy there’s a good chance that they end up falling asleep on his couch at some point

Sandy is a literal icon. He has so many activities for them to do, like painting, yoga, and crafts. (And don’t pretend like he wouldn’t play all game they asked him to play) He also has delicious food that’s healthy, and he has cats! But for some kids that’s just not their cup of tea, hence why I’m not giving him a perfect score. After all, kids can be absolute menaces when cooped up in one place for a long period of time. Therefore I’m giving papa Smurf here an 9.5/10!

Tang:

Just to be clear Tang ain’t doing this for free. He’s either asking for some moola, sacred texts, or ramen. Tsk tsk, Tang is so greedy 😔 

Tang has so much experience dealing with MK, so he totally knows what type of stories your kid would love. Most of them are probably going to be about past legends and what-not

If he’s in a generous mood he might take your kid to see a museum! If your kid isn’t into that sort of stuff then he’ll consider some other fun activities. This could be exploring the town, visiting a library, things like that

Tang would totally take your kid out for some Pigsy’s Noodles when they got hungry, and he might even teach them a few tactics that’ll help them get some free food… (Pigsy would be LIVID)

If your kid is a bookworm Tang might share a few of his favorite books. And if he likes the kid enough he might even let them borrow the books until the next babysitting session

Tang is a simple man with simple needs, unlike most kids. He’s a bookworm who has a cool kid complex, clearly the most normal out of everyone in the gang. Because of this, your kid will be completely out of harms way! But that doesn’t change the fact that he might appear a bit boring… at least in the beginning of the babysitting session. But I have no doubt that as time goes on your kid will grow to appreciate his swindling ways and his logical thought processes! After all, MK practically idolizes him, and he’s practically just a kid in a teenagers body. That being said it’ll definitely cost you some pocket change to hire him. Anyways, Tang is getting a 7.5/10 from me!

Pigsy:

Pigsy probably has the most experience with kids out of anyone in the gang since he basically raised MK

I imagine Pigsy wouldn’t want to take a day off to babysit, and so he’d probably get MK to help work in the kitchen so he can focus on your kid without getting too distracted. And if MK is busy he’ll just ask someone else in the gang! Though, he probably won’t be happy about it-

After you drop your kid off at Pigsy’s restaurant he’ll have two options for them to choose from: Help out in the kitchen or hang out at a table

If your kid wants to help in the back he’ll teach them all the basics of noodle making! But if your kid is a slow learner he’ll probably just give ‘em some dough to play with while he works.

If your kid just wants to hang out at a table, Pigsy will bring them some of MK’s crayons and let them do some drawing. Don’t worry, he’ll occasionally peek out of the kitchen to check on them

Pigsy is kind but stern, so your kid should be prepared to get yelled at lectured at least once 😅 (I’m kidding ofc, I don’t think he’d really yell unless he was in a panic or REALLY upset. Something tells me he has a soft spot for kids)

Whoever is helping him work would also get to hang out with your kid during their breaks, so it’s like 2 babysitters for the cost of 1!

I love Pigsy, and I’m sure other people do as well! He has experience and is fairly responsible, he definitely wouldn’t let your kid get away with doing something bad. He can be tense at times, so if your kid is sensitive he might not be the best babysitter for them. But I’d like to point out HE DEFINITELY HAS A SOFT SPOT FOR KIDS which means he might be nicer than normal. Because of this I’m rating his babysitting services an 8/10!

#Lmk #lego monkie kid #kids #babysitting #reader insert #headcanon #lmk headcanon #mk lmk #tang lmk #pigsy lmk #mei lmk #sandy lmk

[fairydares]

fuck it, new fic. let's do this.

(there's a 'keep reading' line so don't worry, this isn't too long.)

Title: Chasing Tails (AO3 Link) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Rating: E (Explicit) because I'm almost positive there will be eventual smut. I'll be clearer about this as I actually decide what I'm going to write lol. Overarching Warning for Graphic Depictions of Violence.

Categories: 2nd gen fic; adventure, humor, romance, fluff, and angst in approximately that order. i guess.

Pairings: Nalu, Gruvia, Gajevy, Jerza, Miraxus+Fried (don't know what that ship's called sorry), Chendy, Sting/Yukino, Baccana-- next gen has pairings, too, but I don't want to reveal those yet.

Tags/TW's: The first chapter contains UFC/MMA-esque violence as well as some implied street violence. There may be more TW's I need to add later, but I honestly haven't written the whole story or decided everything, so that's all I can give you for now. I'll do my best to tag appropriately as I go.

Summary: It’s been almost 12 years since 17-year-old Layla O'Neil was found living alone on the streets and put in foster care, and she likes to think she’s done a pretty good job of forgetting the past. She doesn’t remember her birth family, the name “Nashi [*1] Dragneel,” or where she heard the absurd stories she told the police who found her. Stories about Wizard Guilds, flying cats, and–most cringey of all–her self-proclaimed status as a “Fire Dragon Slayer.”

But the past becomes pretty impossible to ignore when it confronts her in the form of some middle-aged, pink-haired stalker who won’t stop calling her the ridiculous name she’d nearly forgotten, and trying to convince her to come back to “Fairy Tale.”

Oh, and claiming to be her dad.

Like Layla doesn’t have enough problems! The last thing she needs is some delusional freak following around. Especially one who’s starting to make her want to take his hand…

Yep, this is a Second Gen (and therefore post-canon) fic. The idea took root and just would not let go. I’ll warn you ahead of time that the premise is somewhat dark. That said, I’m the kind of writer who likes (and tries to write) stories with sad beginnings, hopeful middles, and triumphant ends. I don't want to give too much away, but you shouldn't expect major character deaths or anything like that, though their may be some forms of lightly implied abuse.

Feel free to reblog, make your own additions with commentary, whatever. I'm quite lax with stuff like that. Hope this was comprehensive enough, and that you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Dragon-Slaying Aliens

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

“That’s correct…a world that exists independently from the one we know. And, unfortunately, a world that’s begun losing its Magic…unlike here, in Edolas, Magic is a finite resource. Without limits on its use, it will one day disappear forever.” -from Episode 78, “Edolas”, (English dub, ~00:09), Carla’s line [*1]

------------------------------------------------------------------------------To say this mission had gone sideways was a big-ass understatement, and even Natsu had to admit it. 

It had started well enough. A relatively small mission. Not even S-Class! Puny wannabe Dark Guilds like the one Shirotsume needed dealt with–what was it called? Bony Jewel or something? Anyways, they were a dime a dozen, these days. Hell, Natsu was pretty sure he and Happy took out, like, a billion of them in the past seven years by pure accident. So how the hell was he supposed to know that this time, he’d get blasted to another world–one even Team Natsu hadn’t wound up in? 

And he was positive they’d never been here. He may have had a bad memory (something he’d begrudgingly been forced to actively acknowledge as he grew into a man) but he was sure he’d have remembered somewhere that made him feel this bad. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t use his Magic. If it had just been that, this might have been fun. Hell, a lot of the worlds Team Natsu had visited–even Edolas–had been fun.

This one sucked. 

If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought he’d been transported to the future–one where FACE had been activated and all the Magic had been dissipated. Because it had felt, truly, like all the Magic was being sucked out of him. When he’d woken up on the forest floor, he’d felt as if he was dying. His lungs had burned with each breath (and not in the good way). His limbs had felt like lead when he tried to rise. 

He’d quickly realized that couldn’t be the case, though. Even if the Dragons hadn’t destroyed FACE, if all the Magic had been sucked from Earthland he’d have Magical Deficiency Syndrome. He’d either be down or in forced into his END form. 

He’d wandered around the small forest he’d woken up in alone, trying to focus through the stink and noise he was only capable of perceiving through what felt like about a hundred layers of thick blanket, and calling for his best friend as long as he could. It hadn’t been long before he gave up and left; Happy had never shouted back (something he considered fortunate, at this point; hopefully Happy was back in Earthland) his stomach was trying to eat itself, it was dark–and, worst of all–he still couldn’t use his Magic. At all.

Actually, scratch that: the absolute worst part was when a glance at his (as usual) bare shoulder showed him that his guild mark had vanished. It was just gone. So was his scarf, and so was his Mini Communication Lacrima. Obviously, his guild mark and scarf were bigger deals personally, but the Mini Comm was a bigger loss in immediate, practical terms. After That Day, seven years ago, Laxus–now Fairy Tail’s Master–had started putting Navigation Enchantments on everyone’s Comms so that anyone who went missing could be traced. There was a 3D map of Earthland and Edolas visually tracking everyone’s movements in the Master’s Office. It could even find them in Edolas. 

Now, Natsu’s was nowhere to be found. No one would be able to find him, wherever he was, and any hopes of contacting them were obviously dead in the water, too. 

He was gonna have to find his own way back, somehow. He only prayed his scarf was somehow back in Earthland, and that Happy had grabbed it for him. 

As he hobbled down the weird, too-neat walkway he’d found, he had to believe that whatever was preventing him from using his Magic was what kept him from sensing anything beyond the general–the stink, the sound, the pain, the hunger. Normally, with his better-than-normal resilience and enhanced strength, his pain would have mostly taken care of itself by now. Usually, making himself move helped. Now, it seemed to be making things worse. 

After finding the pathway, he’d kept shouting for his little buddy a whole bunch of times, but all he’d gotten were several loud verbal confrontations and one physical one. He’d expected to beat the massive brute towering next to the smaller woman beside him–and he had. But it hadn’t been as easy as he’d expected. His movements had been slower than normal. His limbs had felt like lead. His strength had been lesser. Every time he tried to call up his Magic, a wave of dizziness and lethargy had overcome him. It was like he’d feel the rushing up inside of him only to sputter to coldness at the last second; he hadn’t seen so much as a spark since he’d woken up. 

In the end, it was only experience and determination which had allowed him to level the much larger man, and hard-earned wisdom which had seen him running from the screeching woman and the gun-wielding, uniform-wearing soldiers her screeching had drawn. Yet the punch he’d taken to the nose had made it bleed and the kick to the thigh had made him limp. 

It wasn’t just that his Dragon senses had vanished, making him woozy, making it difficult to stand and excruciating to move. His strength was gone as well. Not even sealstone would have weakened him this much.

He’d wandered, now, for what felt like several hours. The number of Magical Vehicles around were astounding–astounding, and nauseating; just looking at them made Natsu want to vomit. The one good part of having an empty stomach was that he had nothing to give up. He meandered in a stupor, through unbelievably thick crowds, dodging Magic Vehicles and their honking, and glaring down anyone who yelled at him for not understanding something, occasionally barking back to scare them off.

He’d never been so disoriented, and the worst part was that deep down, he knew that there was no one to blame but himself. 

Lucy and Happy had asked him, point-blank, if the Quest he’d chosen had anything to do with his search for their long-lost daughter and kitten. 

It had. Of course it had. 

However, Natsu had denied it. Because if he hadn’t, he and Happy wouldn’t have been able to leave right then. Lucy would have forced him to bring someone else along; she was busy taking care of their son, Luke; the Perve-sicle was already out on his own mission/search for Juvia, and Erza was away, which meant he’d have had to ask someone outside Team Natsu. 

No thanks, he’d decided, covering up the fine print on the mission request with his fingers before holding it up to Lucy’s nose. 

Now, as he snarled at yet another person yelling at him for being in the way, Natsu was starting to consider the possibility that he just maybe should’ve been more upfront, and even that he should–perhaps–have waited for the stripper to get back before taking on Bony Jewel or whatever alone.

But how the hell was he supposed to have known it would end up like this?! It had been going fine–in fact, it had been going great! A couple opponents had offered a real challenge before their Master had shown up. Natsu had been laying down brick in that fight, too. Yet when the guy had been on his last legs, he’d whipped some creepy, sparkly rainbow skull from nowhere (now that he thought about it…that might have been what the Guild was named for!) and shot one last attack. One so big, Natsu had been unable to dodge–though, of course, he’d made to both block and finish the fight with an enormously powerful Fire Dragon Wing Attack. 

Based on his current predicament–he had to assume it hadn’t worked. Even though the skull had shattered in the heat of his flames at the last second, the blast had still hit him. His one consolation was that he was pretty sure his little buddy had heeded his final warning to get back. So he was almost definitely still back in Earthland.  

It had taken Natsu several pathetic attempts to stand. Getting here felt like a blur. Now, he had no idea what he was doing. What he should do. Their money had been in Happy’s knapsack, and without his precious nose, finding food was basically impossible anway. 

Man…Lucy’s gonna kill me, he grumbled internally, grunting at another group who shouted at him for bumping into him. 

Okay, yeah, maybe he should’ve been honest. Maybe he should’ve waited. But how could he do that when the lead was so good? When there was even the smallest chance he might finally find Nashi [*]? 

At the thought, his footsteps halted temporarily. He ducked his head, bangs shadowing his eyes. He balled his fists at his sides. The thought of the missing daughter he’d never stopped searching for never got easier to bear. 

It was the worst thing that could happen to a parent, to lose their child. Something he wouldn’t have wished on Fairy Tail’s most vicious, evil enemy. He and Lucy understood that too intimately. Still, he didn’t let himself get bogged down, not when it might hold him back, not when it might keep him from finding her. Seven years, she’d been gone. Her, Wendy–so many of their nakama and allies. Time had neither hindered nor halted his search for any of his missing comrades, but especially his little girl. She’d be twelve, now. He’d gotten better with birthdays and anniversaries when he married Lucy. He’d woken up and started crying on April 14th this year, the same as his wife. 

Still, even on that day, he’d spoken of her. When he was with Luke, Lucy, and Happy, he talked about it. He talked about how he’d find her and Harley–Happy and Carla’s kitten–how they’d be a family again. He spoke of the future to give it power, just like Igneel had taught him. Just like he’d taught his own kids. Wherever Nashi was, he was sure she must be doing the same; speaking of how she’d find them again, the same as he strove to find her. 

But he couldn’t continue his search (covert or not) until he got home. So getting home was definitely at the top of the to-do list. Right after eating. 

He kept walking.

Wherever he’d wound up was seedy, dark, yet strewn with lights that made paths across his newly-sucky eyes when he looked at them directly. Gross and smelly, too. The people he’d just bumped into started shouting back at him, something about bumping into someone’s girlfriend, and he huffed irritably. Normally, he’d never back down from a challenge like this, but believe it or not, he was too lost, confused, hungry, and tired to deal with another fight–not when the injuries he’d sustained from the previous one were still hurting this much. 

It was humiliating. He’d always been the type of person who refused to back down from a fight, no matter how outmatched he was. These days, a lot of fights were honestly pretty boring for him. Erza would always be scary, and Gray was admittedly pretty strong (if not badass enough to stand up to him, or so he would always insist). He could proudly admit to having achieved (at least) Gildarts-level strength without the clumsiness to make him dangerous. 

Now, he was balking out of fights with people who weren’t even using Magic. 

There was something viscerally terrifying about how much his injuries were troubling him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t limp without worsening whatever injury that asshole had doled out on his knee. His nose felt bigger than his head. 

He stumbled on, brooding. 

The guy whose girlfriend he’d bumped into got louder, closer. Obviously, the freak wasn’t gonna let it go. Cursing, he started hobbling more quickly, turning the next corner. To his relief and curiosity, bright lights, loud voices, and a huge crowd–littered with food stands he might be able to beg food from–appeared. He made his way into the thick of it, ignoring the shouts behind him, and ducked and wove between people. It took him several seconds to realize he was still trying to find food by his nose, which barely even freaking worked. Frustrated, he turned his attention to the source of the light, which seemed to focus down on whatever sat in the middle of the crowd. 

Curiosity shoving past the numbness and hunger, Natsu pushed his way towards it. 

“Ow!” 

“Hey!” 

“Watch it, freak!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Natsu grumbled. “Watch your damn selves!”

He still felt like shit, but the crowd was oddly invigorating. As he crashed through the thickest (front) lines of the crowd, more lights came on while the darkness behind him fell deeper. Natsu winced, blinking. It took him a few moments to register what he’d stumbled upon: a roundish sort of stage, elevated a few feet off the ground and bordered by some kind of chain-link cage thing. Two corners were open to be entered, but fended off  by some big dudes in black suits, holding back the crowd. 

“WELCOME, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” boomed a voice that came from everywhere and nowhere at once, making Natsu flinch again and the crowd start chattering loudly. 

Match? Natsu wondered despite his disorientation and exhaustion, thinking of the Grand Magic Games. He shoved aside every stranger who tried to take his place at the front of the audience, looking around with wide, curious eyes, shoving his gnawing stomach to the backburner.

“FIGHT FANS! ARE YOU REAAAADDDDYYYYY??!!! ” 

Fight? Natsu thought, perking up, conveniently forgetting his injuries in a burst of excitement. Several people started chattering at the crack of the loud voice that was everywhere and nowhere, making Natsu look around even more fervently. 

“BECAUSE THIS LONG-WAITED MATCH-UP IS… ABOUT…TO…BEGINNNN!!!”

The cheering got louder, the shoving got more aggressive, and Natsu got more aggressive right along with it. He’d be damned if he was going to miss a good fight. Besides. He needed to see what the Magic here was like. He was being smart. So ha! How about that, Lucy?!

“INTRODUCING: OUR FIRST FIGHTER!” the voice shouted while Natsu continued to elbow and shove, anticipation rising. Music rang out, a dude’s loud, snarly voice backed up by a bunch of deep bangs and booms which had Natsu trying to decide if what he was listening to was awesome or fucking awful–nope, definitely fucking awful. For the first time, he was glad he couldn’t hear properly since he got here. 

A light flashed at one corner, drawing his eye. “UNLIKE HIS OPPONENT, THIS FIGHTER IS WELL-ESTABLISHED IN THE SEMI-UNDERGROUND OCTAGON! HAD HIS PERFORMANCES BEEN FORMALLY JUDGED WHILE THE UNDERGROUND WAS STILL ACTIVE, HE WOULD LIKELY HAVE LONG-BEEN PERMANENTLY DISQUALIFIED! YET, IN SPITE OF A CONTROVERSIAL CAREER, HE HAS REMAINED A STAPLE OF THE SEMI-OCTAGON FIGHTING WORLD FOR TWO YEARS!”

“Er, feels kinda harsh?” Natsu muttered to himself, sweating slightly. Though he didn’t really get what “controversial career” meant. 

“WHILE THIS IS NOT FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE, DUE TO HIS HISTORY, MANY WILL NO DOUBT VIEW HIM AS REIGNING CHAMP AND DEFENDER! INNNNTTRRROOODUUUCCCINNNG… ‘MAD BULL’ MATTHEW BRON!” 

A door Natsu hadn’t even seen was slammed open as if it had been kicked, and an enormous man–even bigger than the one that had managed to tag Natsu just a little bit ago, a man built like that potato head guy from Lamia Scale, and actually bearing a similar-shaped bald head–appeared, yanking off headphones and chucking them over his massive shoulder one of the lackeys who’d followed him out. The much shorter guy jumped, barely catching them and fumbling a lot once he had. “Mad Cow” or whatever grinned maniacally as he stormed for the ring, dark eyes wild.

The response from the crowd was mixed but mostly positive, Natsu quickly noticed as he glanced around. His eyes skated quickly over the group next to him (which was booing, unlike most of the crowd) then returned his focus to the stage-circle thing. He could see well enough, he was glad to note, even if his vision was nowhere near as sharp as it was back on Earthland. Big Guy took his place at the corner of the ring and immediately started pacing, lifting tree-like arms and roaring as he did so. Meanwhile his lackey scurried for the bit of protected corner behind him, trying to shout for his attention and getting nowhere as he continued to pace. 

Natsu quickly decided he didn’t like the looks of this guy, intro aside. He was the type of asshole Natsu lived to knock down a peg, and despite his injuries and exhaustion, Natsu found himself appraising the big bastard, hands twitching. Sure, he wasn’t in the best shape, but since when had he been one to turn down the chance to kick some ass? It was more a reflex than anything. For about the billionth time since he’d landed here, he tried conjuring up some fire only to curse internally as all he got for his efforts was a wave of dizziness and a wash of helplessness. 

“NOW FOR OUR CONTENDER,” the voice boomed. “SHE’D ONLY BARELY ENTERED THE UNDERGROUND BEFORE IT BECAME THE SEMI-UNDER, BUT WAS ALREADY MAKING WAVES! THIS FIGHTER HAS SPARKED INTENSE DEBATE ABOUT WHETHER WOMEN SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO FIGHT MEN–IN ANY OCTAGON!” More mixed din. Natsu frowned in confusion. Was it for the other fighters’ safety or something? Because someone should ban Erza from contributing to the guild hall violence. Oh, yes. That was a great idea. He’d have to bring the idea up to Gray when he got home. 

“BUT IT’S DIFFICULT TO ARGUE WITH HER HANDY VICTORIES!” the voice boomed. “THANKS TO HER NEARLY-UNBROKEN STREAK OF INSANE WINS, SHE HAS BEEN NICKNAMED THE THE ‘PHOENIX’, ‘UNDERDOG’, ‘TENMEN’...AND HER PREFERRED NICKNAME…” 

A new song started, and this one was undeniably cool, in Natsu’s opinion. Something hard, fast, and catchy, punctuated by an angry-sounding woman singing something about “not giving a damn” about something or other. The door at the opposite end of the ring swung open. A girl came swaggering out, and Natsu froze.

“THE DRAGONESS, LAYLAAAAA O'NEEEILLLLL!!!!”  

It wasn’t his daughter. It couldn’t be. Her name wasn’t Layla. Her name was Nashi. His Nashi would be twelve, and this girl was in her late teens–maybe even her early twenties. The fact that her fighting nickname was “The Dragoness” was a nasty coincidence, but that’s all it was. This couldn’t be Earthland’s Nashi.

But it was this world’s Nashi. Of that, there was no doubt. And Natsu couldn’t make himself take his eyes off her, couldn’t even make himself blink as he stared, ignoring the cheering and booing all around him. 

A couple strands of unruly pink hair at her bangs had broken free of their tight braids, as adorable and predictably unpredictable as his little girl’s. They clung to her forehead, bouncing as she strutted towards the monster still pacing, practically frothing at the mouth, and Natsu vaguely registered the sound of several peoples’ alarmed murmuring. If he hadn’t been so distracted, he’d have understood; she was about half the guy’s size and about -50% as insane-looking.

Not scared, though. 

And…she looked like Lucy. She looked so much like Lucy that it hurt. He could still remember times when he’d call his little girl’s name, she’d turn around, and he’d gasp–because it really was like an adorable, wild little pink-haired Lucy turning to look up at him, her whole face lighting up like he was the greatest thing in Earthland. The memory choked him up, a feeling he’d gotten used to over the past seven years. He swallowed hard.

But that wasn’t Lucy’s smile. Natsu felt like he had seen that smile somewhere but he wasn’t particularly interested in thinking about it all that deeply, because what mattered was that it was her smile, his little girl’s, big and toothy and unmistakable–a little lopsided, the corners of her lips characteristically curling. 

It hit his chest like a shot from Zeref, making him briefly clutch at his waistcoat’s dirtied fabric. 

Natsu knew, firsthand, just how similar other worlds’ versions of his loved ones could be to his. Hell, Edolas Lucy had chopped off her hair to make it a little easier to distinguish herself from Earthland Lucy. 

That didn’t make it hurt any less to suddenly see another world’s Nashi– Layla, this one was called. That was Nashi’s middle name. It made sense, when you thought about it. Names were one thing that seemed to sometimes differ slightly between worlds, as he’d learned on the 100-Year-Quest [*3]. Her canines were sorta sharp, maybe, but they weren’t Dragon Slayer sharp, like his and daughter’s. Besides. Edo Nashi and Fireball’s canines were a tiny bit sharper than normal, too. 

It couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be. Looking at her still felt like being punched in the chest by Erza. Yet he couldn’t stop watching as the music, cheers, and boos faded, she stripped off her sweats (to much catcalling and whistling) to reveal a black sports bra/shorts getup sort of like “Mad Bull’s” shorts, revealing a body packed with much more muscle than any of Fairy Tail’s women would’ve allowed themselves to accumulate. She looked pretty badass, he decided. 

The voice that was everywhere and nowhere boomed on:

“NOT ONLY A CHANCE AT THE UPCOMING TITLE ON THE LINE, BUT–POTENTIALLY–THE FUTURE OF MIXED SEMI-UNDERS. TWO CHALLENGERS, SQUARING OFF FOR A CHANCE AT THE SEMI-FINALS. THIS IS A GIGANTIC CULTURAL MOMENT IN THE HISTORY OF THIS SPORT… ‘MAD BULL’ MATTHEW BRON VS. THE ‘DRAGONESS’ LAYLA O'NEIL!” 

“‘Dragoness’ is fucking right!” Mad Cow or whatever roared while he hugged one arm across his chest, grinning ferally at his much smaller opponent. “Here hoping some man will look at you, fugly?!” 

Several people in the audience laughed. Even the announcer chuckled. Meanwhile, Natsu’s blood boiled. On some level, he knew he needed to separate himself from this. From this fight, from this “Nashi.” Especially when he was this powerless to do anything about any of it. But it was impossible to listen to someone say that to another version of his daughter and not have every protective instinct in his body flare, especially when the spectators apparently thought it was fucking hilarious.

However, her grin didn’t even flicker. “Like you’re one to talk!” she cackled. “You look like Popeye fucked Bigfoot!”

Natsu didn’t flinch at the language like many people in the audience seemed to. In fact, he found the disapproving murmurs confusing. The other guy hadn’t exactly been polite, but he hadn’t gotten the same reaction. Still, a solid number of people were laughing their asses off, including the group next to him which had booed Mad Cow. 

He also had no clue what the hell she’d just said even meant, but the way Mad Cow’s smile dropped off his face, a handful of people started howling with laughter, and the commentator’s chuckles cut off abruptly was enough to make Natsu grin. 

Some random guy in some sort of black, collared uniform entered the arena, signaling to the loud, annoying commentator. Unlike her opponent, no one had followed This Nashi into the arena; she was all alone. So she ran back to her own bit of protected yet empty corner and threw her clothes and a water bottle over the chainlink fence, then ran back towards the middle of the arena. There, she  hopped up and down, shaking out her arms. Stretched them above her head. 

“OUCH!” The commentator finally seemed to recover, though he sounded somewhat vexed. “WELL, ONE THING’S FOR SURE, THE CHALLENGER CAN TALK GAME…WHETHER SHE CAN LIVE UP TO IT IS ANOTHER QUESTION.” 

“God, I fucking hate when Hansis commentates,” the guy next to Natsu muttered, his friends snorting in agreement. Then he glanced at Natsu–only to double take. “Oi, are you related to the Dragoness or something?!” he asked, eyes on his hair. 

“Uhhh…” Natsu chuckled nervously, feeling himself start to sweat. He may have been what Erza would (and frequently did ) call an “impulsive idiot”, but he had no clue how to explain that he was the father of her other self. “Something like that.”

“Whoa, seriously?!” The guy’s friend leaned around him to look at Natsu with wide, shining eyes, then continued, “I won’t ask anymore, ‘cause obviously you’re trying to protect your identities or something, but that’s so cool! We’re huge fans!” 

“Hmm…” Natsu said, scanning their apparel–t-shirts and hats emblazoned with her face and silhouette–and what looked like homemade signs of her name, written in fiery letters. “I can see that…what is this, exactly?” He asked this while looking around at the lights, spectators, an unfamiliar kind of money being exchanged and counted between several people.

Natsu tilted his head, blinking. “No?” he said. 

“The semi-underground tournament?” the only girl in the group said, eyes almost as wide as her friend’s. When Natsu only continued to look confused, she said, “What, do you live under a rock?! You’ve at least heard of MMA, right? Mixed Martial Arts?” 

He perked up at this. “Like a fight?! Hell, yeah! How do I get in on this?!” He grinned, cracking his knuckles, his earlier scuffles and empty stomach completely forgotten. 

“YOU DON’T!” the entire group shouted, eyes bugging. 

The dude who’d first started talking to him huffed, sweating slightly. “The ‘semi-underground’ octagon used to just be called ‘the underground fights,’” he explained loudly, Natsu still having to lean in to catch what he said with his new, bad ears over the increasingly excited din. “It was illegal, but, like, illegal in the ‘everyone knows but won’t squeal’ way, you know?” 

Natsu nodded, fully getting this. After all, how many times had soldiers arrested him only for Queen Hisui to let him off with a finger-wag. Of course, his luck on that front had run out seven years ago…

“The feds finally cracked down on it,” the guy continued, “but didn’t prosecute any of the fighters. Now, it’s called the ‘Semi-Underground’...it’s got no weight-classes (which is why the Dragoness can fight big dudes like Mad Bull). All genders are free to compete and fight each other. It’s a bit more for entertainment than pure fighting prowess– that was different, before,” the guy added with a wistful tone. “But still! You can’t just go waltzing into the octagon, you know? Back in the basement where this used to happen, you could’ve gotten away with that, but now you’ve gotta work for it, you know? Seriously, do you live under a rock or something?” 

Irritated, Natsu opened his mouth, but his response was cut off when a loud voice–not as loud as the announcer, but still–redrew all their attention to the ring. “Alright, fighters,” the black-collar guy said into a microphone which was smaller and not as loud as the commentator’s, quieting the audience. “We’ve been over the rules. Protect yourself at all times. Follow my instructions. We’re going to have a clean fight, you hear me?” He glared at Mad Bull, but This Nashi was the only one who dipped her chin in recognition. Natsu’s eyes narrowed along with hers when her opponent refused to acknowledge the guy’s words. “Now, touch gloves at this time, and come out ready to do this!” 

Both fighters instantly danced away from each other. Black collar guy scowled. Both the commentator and the audience made sounds like “ OOOOOOOH!” 

“NO TOUCH!” came the commentator’s gleeful voice, “I REPEAT, NEITHER FIGHTER TOUCHED GLOVES, AND SO FAR, NEITHER ARE REALLY MOVING FOR EACH OTHER–” 

“SAY YOU’RE PRAYERS, BITCH!” Mad Cow roared. “YOU’RE DEAD MEAT!” 

“BRING IT!” This Nashi roared back, and Mad Cow lunged, swinging in immediately with a big, dramatic overhand hook that would have knocked her out immediately if she hadn’t skated out of its way. It took about three similar exchanges for Natsu to sag in disappointment. 

“Oi!” he shouted, utterly let down, “Where the hell’s the magic?!” 

“Geez!” the guy next to him laughed. “The fight’s only just started: give them a minute to warm up! Then we’ll get to see the cool stuff.”

“What, they’re not allowed to use it at first or something?” Natsu asked, still staring as This Nashi fended off huge, devastating blows raining down from above and leapt back from the powerful kicks, eyes narrowed and expression tight. 

“...Er, what?” the guy asked. 

“Magic–duh!” Natsu huffed, flickering wide eyes between the guy and This Nashi, who was now darting backwards around the round-ish ring, still fending Mad Cow off, weaving and ducking with a speed few could hope to match. “You know?! Fire, Ice, Celestial Magic…?

The guy stared at him for a second along with his companions, all of whom were also sweating. It was then that Natsu knew: 

Something more was going on here. Something he didn’t understand. This place…wherever he was, it was like Edolas. Not now, but back when he, Lucy, and the others had gone there. Magic didn’t just not exist, here; was some kind of… taboo on it.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. Trying to keep his voice as quiet as he could over the crowd, he continued, “I didn’t mean to say something that would get you in trouble...” 

The group’s only response was to sidle away from him surreptitiously, glancing at him and sharing looks with wide eyes. Natsu was thrown for a loop once more. Ooo- kay, talk about overly-suspicious. Were there guards listening in on their conversation or something? As discreetly as possible, with his hand still at the back of his head, he looked around, eyes narrowed. 

Yet…he saw nothing to warrant their suspicion. An unruly crowd…and an astonishing lack of guards. At the Grand Magic Games, there’d always been a ton of guards. Way more than he wanted to be there, honestly. Did this have something to do with the whole “underground” thing? 

He looked at the group again, then realized something important: it was him they were looking at nervously. Nervously, and like…he was crazy or something. 

It had taken time, but the years had made Natsu wiser–cooler–about situations like this. Even as his stomach sank with the realization that getting home was going to be a much harder task than he’d initially realized, he acknowledged that he’d need to be careful about mentioning Magic here. Dropping his hand, he forced a small smile at them then turned his attention back to the arena, where Mad Cow continued to chase This Nashi around the edge of the arena. Meanwhile, his mind continued to reel, loud to himself and no one else. 

“–IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE SHE’S CAUGHT IN A CLINCH, HERE, AND THEN OUR NIGHT WILL BE OVER!” the commentator was blaring. It was sort of surprising, how easily he’d been able to tune out when Natsu’s ears were registering so little. “I HATE TO SAY IT–” (Based on the glee in his tone, Natsu doubted that.) “–BUT HOWEVER MUCH OF AN EXTRAORDINARY FIGHTER SHE IS, SHE’S STILL A FEMALE FIGHTER. HER OPPONENT HAS WELL OVER A HUNDRED POUNDS ON HER [*4]. AND, AGAIN, I HATE TO SAY THIS–BUT THERE ARE JUST PHYSICAL BARRIERS NO CHICK FIGHTER WILL EVER BE ABLE TO OVERCOME! RIGHT NOW, THIS IS A DOG FIGHT, AND NOT ONE SHE CAN KEEP SCRAPPING IN! SHE’S NOT GOING TO COME OUT AS THE ‘UNDERDOG,’ THIS TIME–”

“Man, she’s getting her ass beat!” someone from the group broke the awkward silence as This Nashi was swept aside by a blow that caught the guard at her ear. 

“Maybe she’ll make a comeback!” another guy said, tremulous but hopeful, as a log-like shin crashed into her stomach. 

“She definitely will!” the guy who’d first spoken to Natsu said, though there was a distant note of doubt in his voice as she barely reeled from an arrow-fast straight right. 

Despite the awkwardness of their last interaction, Natsu couldn’t help appreciating these people, who were so devoted to this world’s Nashi. He decided to end their night more positively. “Is that what you think?” he asked in a somewhat bored tone, eyes on the girl still gliding backwards, dancing away from the hits and kicks or else blocking them. He felt, rather than saw, the group’s eyes jumping to him, some of them quickly leaping away only to dart back. 

“What do you mean?” the first guy ventured when he said nothing else, edging a little closer once more.

Natsu crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyes thinning as Big Boy brought down a hailstorm of fists on This Nashi’s head. His eyes tracked the way a particularly big hit caught her forearm–but only barely, seeing as she’d slid out of the enormous range even as she blocked. Just like he’d thought…

His stomach churned uncomfortably. It was eerie and cruel, how much her movements and the memories aligned–

“OUCH! That hurt, Daddy!” After the exclamation, Nashi began grumbling, vigorously rubbing her forearm where his fist had just him. 

“Woops!” Natsu chuckled sheepishly, “My bad!” 

Despite the fact that she was still rubbing the arm he’d tapped with a light hit, the little girl who barely came up above his knees scowled. 

It was midday, now. In their front lawn; his and Happy’s house, now much larger with the rooms he’d added for Lucy and their kids. 

“But–” He grew serious. “–you think your enemies will take it easy on you, Nashi? You think they’ll give you a break because you say ‘ouch’?” 

She dropped her arms to her sides and scowled–pouted, really. She was so cute, he couldn’t have kept his lips from quirking into a grin if he tried. Strutting forward, he planted a hand on top of her head, rubbing the unruly locks. He only grinned wider when she turned her scowl/pout up to him. “Sorry, kiddo, but they won’t!” 

Lucy would have lost her mind, if she saw the interaction. Natsu could just hear her now: “NATSU, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?! SHE’S FIVE! BE CAREFUL, WOULD YOU? BLAH BLAH BLURGH BLAH– !” 

He never really got Lucy, when she acted like that. Nashi was a Dragon Slayer, like him. She could take much more than a normal human, but would never learn that she could if he didn’t show her! Not to mention that Igneel had been way tougher on him, when he was five. Besides, he didn’t want his kid to be some weakling! What father did want that? 

Not any good ones, that was for sure. Especially not when their kids had Nashi’s determination and drive. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he apologized again, still rubbing her head affectionately. “But you’ve got to understand…if I hurt you, it’s because I know your enemies will hurt you the same way…I don’t want it to surprise you. I want you to be able to fight back, still. You do still want to be a big-time Dragon Slayer, don’t you?” 

She stared up at him dubiously, but the smile caught on quick. She’d never been able to resist smiling back at him. 

“...Yeah,” she admitted finally, feigning reluctance. 

He lifted his hand off her head, cupping it around his ear and leaning down towards her. “What was that?!” he shouted. “I couldn’t hear you…what was it you want?!” 

“I–pfft–I WANT–” Her small smile turned to a grin–the big, corner-curled grin only his daughter ever could or would achieve. The one that always melted his heart. 

“I WANNA BE A DRAGON SLAYER!” she managed to roar through her grin. “NO–I MEAN, I WANNA BE THE STRONGEST DRAGON SLAYER EVER!” 

“HELL YEAH, YOU DO!” he roared back, the pride managing to make his chest burst even as he squared up again, preparing for more training. An adrenaline only teaching one’s prodigy could spark electrocuted his system. “IF THAT’S REALLY TRUE, THEN COME ON, NASHI! YOU’VE GOT MORE IN YOU! I KNOW YOU DO!” 

“OH YEAH? WELL I DO! I GOT WAY MORE IN ME!” She dropped into the stance he’d taught her, grinning for everything she was worth. The sun illuminated her smile. 

He somehow managed to grin even more widely. “Right, then listen up!” he commanded. “When Dragon Slayers fight, they got one big advantage: they can take a whole bunch of hits–then still get up. So that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.” 

“...Huh?!” The little girl’s eyes bulged out of her head. “You’re sayin’ I’m gonna let myself get hit?!” 

“Well, not too hard,” he elaborated. “And not too much…you’re just gonna play defense for a while, see?” He moved for her, throwing a fist much more slowly than he normally would have. Automatically, she wove away, eyes wide on his face. His right fist was followed by his left, then a kick–all too sluggish to be real. She easily moved around and blocked all of them. “This way,” he continued, throwing another kick. “You can learn the guy you’re fighting, how step, how they breathe…” 

“How they step…how they breathe…” she repeated to herself in a murmur, eyes flickering all over his body as he continued to pantomime a real fight. Natsu couldn’t help but grin. Nashi was a distractible kid, but when it came to fighting, she was always on the ball.

Natsu didn’t mind one bit when Lucy blamed him for that. 

“...how they fight,” he finished. 

“...how they fight!” she whispered. 

He started speeding up his movements. Let her orient before he lit up his fists. She mirrored him, flames igniting her much smaller fists. Their dance became even faster “That’s it, Nashi!” he praised as she leapt back from a kick, only letting it clip her shoulder. “Get into the flow of it! Read my movements! Remember, breathe, and–” 

“She’s reading him,” he murmured, voice softer than he’d meant it to be. “Fending him off and waiting for the right moment; his hits are only clipping her.” His hunger was catching up with him again, as was his pain. He ached. He wanted to sleep. And…

…It hurt. It hurt too much. Knowing it wasn’t his Nashi…that just made it hurt more. Each hit, each block, each flash of those brown eyes…they felt like shards of glass piercing his heart.

I can’t stay here, he realized. 

“What was that?” the girl in the group asked, venturing closer to him. 

His heart was heavy, sinking as he watched the girl. Embarrassment washed over him as he realized that had been a stupid thing to say in the first place. This wasn’t his Nashi. She wasn’t using what he’d taught her because he hadn’t been the one to train her. Hell, she probably wasn’t even gauging her opponents’ movements; she was probably fighting for her life, here. 

She would lose. 

“Nothin’,” he replied thickly, dropping his arms even as he watched the girl roll away from a rather impressive and extremely long-ranged crescent kick, not even the man’s big toe catching her at all. “I was wrong…enjoy the rest of the fight, guys.” He used the ensuing beat of silence to stare–for just one more second–at the girl. This world’s version of his girl. 

Without thinking, he went to heft up his backpack, only to sigh in quiet defeat–the exhale almost visible even in the warm air–as he remembered it wasn’t there; he was just a weakling in this world. That’s why his back (and whole body) felt so heavy. 

“Oh, you’re leaving?” the first guy who’d spoken to him said as he turned away, pushing back through the crowd. His tone was an odd mixture of relieved and disappointed. Natsu said nothing, merely waving. 

Overhead, the booming voice–which he’d tuned out during the competition–continued to sound off. “–AN ADMITTEDLY UNBELIEVABLE DODGE, BY ,” it said, clearly shocked, as Natsu pushed past a woman who was obviously excited to be moving closer to the arena. “BUT THE NEXT FLURRY OF BLOWS LANDS, ALTHOUGH IT APPEARS SHE’S BLOCKED MOST OF THEM–” 

“YOU’RE DONE, BITCH!” roared Mad Cow, so loud that he managed to drown out the commentator–who went silent, anyway. This made Natsu pause, his brows knitting with fury. 

It doesn’t matter, he reminded himself. She’s not your daughter. He refused to look back, forced himself to take another step, then another. She’s just some fighter from another world who’s, apparently, out of her league. She’s not–

A loud slam, like a body falling on a mat. “SHE’S DOWN! I REPEAT, ’S DOWN!” 

Natsu smirked. “See, dumbass?” he murmured to himself. 

“IT’S ALL OVER, FOLKS! SHE’S–” 

All of a sudden, a fleshy CRACK rang through the air, followed by an enormous chorus of gasps and cries of surprise from the crowd. A deafening silence ensued. 

“... HOLY– UNBELIEVABLE!” the commentator managed. “A KICK FROM THE GROUND–AND O’NEIL'S BACK ON HER FEET! THEY’VE GAINED GROUND FROM EACH OTHER, AND MAD BULL–MAD BULL IS NOW TRYING TO RECOVER!”  

Despite himself, Natsu slowed even as he urged himself to keep walking. Even as he continued to force himself not to turn back. Looking back is only a distraction. It’s not Nashi. That is not Nashi. It’s not–

“Man, I really hate guys like you, you know that?” 

The seething voice was what made him stop, closing his eyes. There was just…something about it. A growl. A fire. Something that punched right back into his memories:

“Remember, breathe, and keep your eyes on my chest! That way, you can see my whole body at the corners of your eyes!” A combo, one which he pumped more speed and power to than before–throwing her off on purpose. 

“Oof!” she grunted as she landed on her butt. 

“There, when you fall– that’s when you make your comeback! Now that you’ve watched your opponent, and tricked him into thinking you’re down– now is when you get back up and blow them away! That’s how a Dragon Slayer fights! That’s how a Fairy Tail Wizard fights!” She stared up at him with huge eyes, shining with admiration, and flushed cheeks. 

He grinned. 

“So?! Get up! Always get back up, Nashi! I’m not asking the impossible of you–you can do this! I know you can!” 

“I–I will!” she scrambled to her feet, fists blazing with gold heat as she lunged for him. “I’ll always get back up! No matter what, I’ll–” 

His chest seized. He clenched his jaw, knowing he needed to make himself keep walking, but unable to do it. Even as people churned around him, trying to push past him, he found himself shoving them off, refusing to move from exactly where he was. One foot planted in front of the other. Half-hovering. Eyes still closed. 

Whatever just happened had quieted the crowd, an anticipatory sort of silence that made him clench his fists, eyes still closed. 

And then, Natsu’s world flipped upside down: 

“You didn’t even bother to study my previous fights, did you?” Her growl carried across the hushed crowd. “Tch, typical…if you had, you’d know: You’d know I always get back up!” 

His eyes flew open. 

He whirled back around and watched, wide-eyed and world rocking, as the pink haired girl rose. Rolled her shoulders against her ears, one at a time. The grin was gone, a heavy, intimidating scowl having taken its place as she recovered, getting her feet back underneath herself, her stance back in place. Her nose was wrinkled in fury. Her eyes burned. 

Natsu’s lips parted on a gasp as he stared. 

Mad Cow scoffed, hunched and rubbing his chin with a hand like a mitt. Natsu guessed that This Nashi must’ve caught him there–probably with a kick, given the size difference. That must have been what made the crowd react with shock. They were recovering now, though, getting louder.

“And why the fuck would I bother to do that?!” Mad Cow shouted, dropping his hand. “I don’t need to! Every guy you’ve faced could’ve beaten you easily if they’d quit acting like even more of a little bitch than you! You shouldn’t fucking be here anyway…fucking birds, knowing dudes will take it easy on you so you can take advantage of it and collect the reward…well I’M NOT ONE OF THEM!” He roared the last part. The bitter fury in his voice was a kind Natsu was familiar with. 

“Studying what you can find of your opponent’s fighting style–that’s basic! And you wanna sit here and bitch about how I don’t deserve to be here, you lumpy-headed fuck?! ” 

“The FUCK you just call me?!” McCow snarled back. 

“YOU HEARD ME, SHITWIT!” 

“THAT’S IT!” the man shouted. “I’ve had it! I was gonna take it easy on you, but–” 

“THAT’S MY LINE!” 

It seemed that was both their limit. 

They flew at each other. But now, everything was different, and Natsu doubted that anyone without a trained eye and fighting experience like him could recognize it. 

Apparently, the commentator was one such person: “THIS IS–THIS IS INCREDIBLE!” the voice boomed, full of disbelief, as the girl caught the fist rocketing towards her face with a hard elbow, making Mad Cow let out a roar of pain. She kicked away an arm flying towards her head, and launched a sidekick at his now-uncovered stomach–one that landed hard. She built on the damage, bearing down on him as he stumbled backwards, tripping over his own heels. A right roundhouse followed by a left to his head. Despite the fact he was obviously disorientated, he caught the first one– blocked it and tried, unsuccessfully to catch her foot–but not the second, which cracked into his ear and made him stagger, her chasing him and hammering him with surprisingly powerful blows. Each one of her hits accumulated speed and strength.

The commentator picked up again, saying something or other about “striking machines”, but Natsu didn’t hear. His eyes were wide, now, and glued to the girl cracking her shin into her opponent’s nose, teeth bared. The expression on her face…the fire in her eyes…the speed of her hits…her fighting style…it was like he’d begun watching the fight currently happening through one eye and a stream of memories through the other, his breath going still in his lungs–

“–No matter what, I’ll always get back up!” screamed the little girl, running forward and hammering him with fiery strikes, kicks, and even elbows. They’d only just started elbow work. Natsu staggered back with each good combo she landed. He put in the effort to make it look convincing, pride swelling within his chest. 

“That’s it! Build on it! Faster…harder! C’mon!”  

This Nashi slipped underneath and into one of Mad Cow’s big overhand hooks, the corrected trajectory of his fist barely skidding over her shoulder as her right fist tore up, slamming into his chin. Even as his eyes rolled and he staggered backwards, her expression was so mutinous it was almost funny. 

But as good as the uppercut was, it turned out to be a set-up: 

“LOOK AT THIS COMBO…CROSS, HOOK–WHOA! AN ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING LEG KICK! CLASSIC MUAY THAI-INSPIRED COMBO FROM TURNING–” 

“FUCKING BITCH–!” Mad Cow roared, but his opponent cut him off with a voice like thunder. 

“I’M THE BADDEST BITCH YOU’VE EVER MET!” 

“I’LL ALWAYS GET BACK UP! I WILL! I’M GONNA BE A GREAT DRAGON SLAYER, JUST LIKE YOU! NO–I’LL EVEN BEAT YOU, ONE DAY!” Nashi took a deep breath, and Natsu grinned, allowing the pause in the fight, because he knew what was coming. The catchphrase both like his and not. Inspired by him, but all her own. 

Her fists blazed brighter than ever. The sun illuminated her grin.“JUST WATCH ME, DADDY! DON’T EVEN BLINK! BECAUSE I’VE–” 

“–GOT A FIRE IN ME THAT YOU’LL NEVER PUT OUT!”

Mad Cow’s eyes were wild with fear as he desperately swung for another, big lead cross–one which spelled his downfall. The Dragoness leapt off her left leg–her back leg. Her right shin cracked into his already dipping head. 

He fell forward and bounced off the mat, limp as a ragdoll, while the audience screamed all around him. 

Even as the giant fell still, she made for his prone form, fist raised, but didn’t fight at all when the black-collared man appeared seemingly from nowhere, grabbed her around the waist, and practically threw her away. Instead, This Nashi– The Nashi skipped backwards, smirking, and raised a wrapped fist. 

And that was the realization which thundered through Natsu, now gaping up at the victorious, pink-haired fighter stalking towards the edge of the cage: not This Nashi. The Nashi. 

After seven, grief-filled years, Natsu Dragneel was absolutely sure he had just found his daughter.

*1. Yes, there will be quotes from the original series (the anime dub, sub, or the manga depending on whichever version I like best) at the beginning of each chapter. HOWEVER. The quotes are not spoilers and are often only tangentially related to my plotline. The one for this chapter, for instance, is specifically about Edolas, but is not actually true of the world where Natsu has landed.

*2. Yes, I know the canon Edolas Nalu child is “Nasha.” I decided on “Nashi”, instead, for reasons which will be explained later.

*3. Sorry in advance, but I pretty much kept what little I remembered/liked from 100YQ and ditched everything I didn’t. Same with the original story, but way more with 100YQ. Idk what it is but even though I’ve read the whole thing, 100YQ has this unique quality where a lot of what happens slips straight out of my mind as soon as I’ve read it. In one eye, out the other. So you’ll just have to roll with me, sorry.

*4. Real-life inspiration for Layla (/Nashi) comes mostly from Ronda Rousey, whose biography I read and happen to have on hand, along with Kaoklai Kaennorsing (especially his fighting style). Those are the two main ones. If you’ve read My Fight, Your Fight, you’ll understand how Layla (/Nashi’s) personality is inspired by her–especially as you go on. I highly recommend looking up the Thai kickboxer/Muay Thai fighter Kaoklai Kaennorsing. He has been called the Giant-Slayer because he did, in fact, defeat opponents who had over 100 pounds on him. Watching his fights is just an incredible experience. Other inspirations include Rose Namajunas, Connor McGregor, and some others. There are also several fictional inspirations including and outside Fairy Tail which I won’t bore you with (some of them I’m sure fellow anime fans will be able to guess lol).

#nalu #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nashi dragneel #nasha dragneel #gruvia #gajevy #jerza #fan fiction #fanfiction #2nd gen #post-canon #if this is wonky i'll fix it tomorrow. too tired now. #nalu fic

[asjjohnson]

Part 6 of my poll adventure fic. Links: the beginning, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5.

It's mid-day Wednesday (at least for my time), which means a new part of my poll adventure fic, because I've been here for over a year and still don't know how to use this site effectively. :D (Oh wait, here, I made a poll about tumblr timing.)

---

Valerie walked toward Vlad through the rubble, hugging a hissing and clawing Maddie against her armor. "Found him," she said proudly, smiling up at Vlad. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Actually, there is. There's a malevolent ghost loose in Amity Park, posing a serious risk to my health, as well as to the city. I need him contained and brought to me."

Oh, cheese sticks with marinara dipping sauce! He had meant to do the responsible thing here—not ask a fourteen-year-old child who couldn't even hold a cat properly to risk her life in his stead.

...He really had become too accustomed to avoiding anything unpleasant.

"Sure thing, Mayor Masters!"

Maddie squirmed out of Valerie's hold with an angry yowl and ran off.

Well, he could still work with Valerie. ...If he truly wanted to. He was unlikely to succeed on his own, anyhow, if this older version of Daniel actually was as powerful as he'd heard.

But did he truly want to be a part of this endeavor? He was already dreading it, with only the thought.

He recalled what the older Daniel had said—that he let his emotions hold too much sway, and that in turn caused his plans to fail.

Which had been exactly the case when he'd felt some level of compassion for that ghost.

Thinking purely objectively, Vlad could still use the ghost if he could get him back under his control. And if Vlad were to have some part in the ghost's capture—in saving Amity Park—it would boost his ratings. He did need to keep his position as mayor of Amity Park for his contingency plans.

"Valerie, dear. Why don't we work together? I'm sure it's just misplaced guilt, but I can't help but feel somehow responsible for this situation. Ridiculous, I know. However, working with you on his capture would ease my poor conscience."

"Oh... uh, you've never suggested this before," Valerie said uncertainly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, as though she was trying to think of some way that poor old 'Mayor Masters' could work with her. "But if that's what you want."

'Cheerleader' isn't, ah, a literal cheerleader. (Don't make me dress him up in a skirt.) It just means... like, advertising and cheering her on. More of a cheer-leader (...which is probably an even more literal meaning actually).

---

"Alert me when there's an update" list:

@charlietheepic7, @chrysanthemum9484, @mymadmedleyw, @dp-marvel94, @aikoiya, @whydouwantmyname, @cinturon-cadena, @freakofyournature, @satanicrutialspecialist, @danphantom80

(if you want on the list, specifically ask to be alerted for updates in a tag or comment. Ask again if I forget! If I can't tag you, I'll send a Message.)

#danny phantom #vlad plasmius #valerie gray #poll fic #poll adventure #asj post #asj writing #Don't worry Maddie's fine. She(?) is just startled from the collapse and doesn't like strangers much. #We know Valerie's not a dog person but who said she was a cat person either? #Vlad will probably run into Danny in the next part. #(...you guys voting for Vlad to ask two young children to help him catch a very dangerous ghost.) #actually I probably should've thought to add an 'everyone he can' option. In Reign Storm against Pariah Dark he'd talked to several people #Hmm... if this works out good enough to later post on AO3 I'll need to remember to add that option. #(I'm afraid the plot is deteriorating though.) #(And I can't figure out how to End a path. This could go on forever. ...Especially if you guys keep shifting the plot.) #It's kind of fun though. You guys sometimes come up with such weird ideas. #...I'm not sure how long s post can be before I should add a Keep Reading/Read More break.

[spartanguard]

most wanted (11/11) [CSSNS21]

Summary: Killian Jones has been tracking Emma Swan, notorious cat burglar, across the realm as she’s wanted for murder. The sooner he finds her, the faster he gets back to his daughter. But meeting an enchanting lass in a small village—along with Miss Swan’s feline familiar (perhaps too familiar)—definitely affects his plans; this case might not be as open-and-shut as he’d like.

A/N: Ahhh we're finally here! The last chapter! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this adventure and for all your lovely comments!! Hope you enjoy this final part! Forever thanks to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl​​​​​ and to @cssns​​​​​ for putting on the event each year, even if I am so far behind here.

rated T | 5.8k words | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | AO3

“And then I’m all yours,” Emma purred, putting her arms around Neal’s neck even though her wrists were still cuffed. “I love you, baby.”

“Aww, I love you too,” Neal replied, though it was clear his heart wasn’t fully in it—he just loved that he was getting his way. 

Emma, though—for all that Killian had learned to read her, her skills in deceit were expert and he’d obviously been wrong about her before, even when he had all his faculties (which he didn’t have at the moment, pain still blurring his vision). 

So he wasn’t sure who she was lying to: Neal…or him. 

And the way she was pressing her body against Neal suggested the latter. 

But he couldn’t do anything about it kneeling in the dust. However, when he shifted to stand, a couple of Neal’s thugs were immediately on him, grabbing his biceps and forcing him to stay down. 

That drew Neal’s attention, even though Emma’s lips had been suspiciously close to his. “So, got any ideas on what to do with him?”

Emma shrugged. “Whatever you want; I don’t care.” She was looking straight at him with a look bordering on contempt. It hurt more than he cared to admit. 

Neal stepped back from Emma and guided her shackled wrists over his head—though he held them a moment and pressed a kiss to the back of a hand, to which Emma gave a girlish giggle. It was easy to see how he’d charmed her in the first place, even if it was somewhat performative. (Killian would know; he’d done that move a million times—including to her.) 

“We'll have you out of those things soon,” Neal told her, nodding at the cuffs. “But hold onto this in the meantime.” And handed her the gun, which she didn’t hesitate to take, quickly moving her finger to the trigger. Either Neal was an idiot, or Killian had been well and truly duped. 

Neal turned his attention back to Killian, pulling out a pocketknife from his trousers before kneeling in front of him. “Who knew I’d get the satisfaction of killing the man who ruined my family twice?” he taunted, making a show of flipping the switchblade open. “I should have known I was off; the other guy went down too easily—had no idea what I was talking about. Figured he just forgot. But you—you look like you’d put up more of a fight. Like you took her as some sort of trophy, I bet; is that it? You just love to tear families apart?”

“No,” Killian snapped back. “I told you—I loved her.”

Neal ignored him. “That guy was pretty, but you’re prettier…I can see why my mom was taken in. It’d be a shame if something happened to that face.” He struck out with the blade at Killian’s cheek, slicing a thin but deep line that made Killian hiss in pain; he could feel warm blood running down his face almost immediately. 

“But you probably need your neck more, huh?” Neal went on, pressing the knife against Killian’s jugular. It wasn’t the first time Killian had been in that position, but it had been a while, and the determination in Neal’s eyes made him think he was most likely to actually do it. 

“Let me guess—you thought you were gonna take Emma, too? Some knight in shining armor deal?”

“Why would I want someone I was trying to arrest?” he said, feigning disinterest. 

“Same reason you took the wife of a man you’d later arrest,” Neal countered, putting more pressure on the blade; Killian tried to move his neck away, but only had so much room to move. “Do you get off on the power or something? And then just toss them aside when you’re done?”

“Is that what your father told you?”

“He said you charmed her away from us, and then let her die when you got bored with her.”

“He lied,” Killian insisted, hoping an emotional plea might get Neal to stand down. “We fell in love, and we ran off together. Your father was too much of a coward to tell you the truth. And she didn’t just die—he killed her. He tore out her heart and crushed it in front of me. I did vow revenge for that, and I achieved it when I arrested him. But believe me, I was just as heartbroken at losing her as you.”

An array of emotions played across Neal’s face at what was apparently a revelation. It was to be expected, really, and the look that finally settled in place was a familiar one—one he’d worn so often as a scared, lonely boy.

“She abandoned me?” he said in a small voice, and for a moment, the scared young boy that he must have been once showed through.

“Not a single day went past where your mother didn't regret leaving you. But you have to understand just how unhappy she was.”

“No!” Neal shouted back, looking away. “You’re still lying! None of this is true! She loved us and you took her!” To emphasize his denial, he pressed even harder with the knife, and Killian could feel the sharp edge start to cut into his skin.

“A person’s not an object, mate; and I’m a bounty hunter, not a kidnapper. Trust me, I have no need to engage in any such deception to get a woman in my bed. Perhaps your father should have taken better care of his partners; perhaps you should, too.”

“Or what—you’ll steal her away, too?” Neal scoffed. “Didn’t you hear, though? She still loves me.”

Killian didn’t have a retort for that. That was beside the point right now, though. He would get over Emma’s double crossing; it might take some time, but he would. But he couldn’t let whatever heartache he was feeling prevent him from fighting to get back to Alice. 

However—the blade was still cutting into his neck, blood likely staining his collar by now, and any move he could make to free him from his captors’ hold would only increase his chance at mortal injury. 

“Not anymore, asshole.” 

Emma’s voice drew the attention of both him and Neal, and before either could truly acknowledge her presence, she took the butt end of the pistol and, with the full force of both hands, smacked it down on Neal’s temple. 

He swayed for a moment, dropping his knife, and then collapsed on the ground, unconscious. 

Killian stared agape, too stunned to even appreciate the fact that Neal’s cronies had loosened their grip on him, likely equally surprised by the turn of events. 

“Sorry,” Emma said, staring right at him. “I just couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

Killian blinked a moment. “Sorry for what? I’m not the one who’ll be waking with a splitting headache,” he replied, nodding at Neal and trying (and failing) to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Oh, Killian—no,” she insisted—though what she meant, he wasn’t sure. She stepped over Neal’s comatose body and dropped to her knees in front of him. “I meant—all of it,” she explained. “I was just doing whatever I could to make sure he didn’t hurt you. Though I guess I didn’t do the best job,” she lamented, then grabbed her skirt and tried to dab the blood off his face. 

But that didn’t concern him at the moment, so he stilled her hands with his. “So—you were playing him? About all of that?”

She almost looked angry. “Of course I was! You really think I’d go running back to that dick? Especially after everything that’s happened between us—-after this morning?” she added quietly. 

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain?”

“No,” she conceded, and blotted up some of the blood on his neck. “Gods, these are gonna leave scars.”

“It’s alright, love,” he assured her. “I’m fine—and I’m so glad you were lying.”

She grinned at him, but it quickly switched to a look of alarm as another voice interrupted. “And I’m glad he was telling the truth—at least, I presume so.”

Killian’s midsection was still incredibly sore, particularly on one side near his ribs, but he managed to sit and turn around to face the newcomer—and smiled. “Nemo.”

The older man wore an equally warm expression as he approached, which was also when Killian realized no one else was with them—Neal’s goons had ran off, clearly showing the (lack of) loyalty their boss inspired. 

“Are you alright, my friend?” Nemo asked when he reached them, gingerly placing a hand of comfort on Killian’s shoulder. 

“I’ve had worse days,” he replied, attempting to keep things light, even if the ache was settling in more as adrenaline faded. 

Nemo patted his shoulder in a paternal move that seemed to say “we’ll talk later” before looking over at Emma. “And this must be the elusive Miss Swan?”

Emma looked somewhat panicked at being identified. “Aye, that she is,” Killian confirmed, reaching over to grab her hand and give a comforting squeeze. “Emma, this is Nemo, my boss.”

“I didn’t kill anyone, I swear,” she quickly blurted out, only to be met with a chuckle from Nemo. 

“So I heard,” he answered. “And you can pin this fellow on other crimes?”

“Oh yeah,” Emma confirmed. “If you’re still looking for whoever robbed the bank in Franklintown last year, that’s him right there. Well, and me,” she confessed, “but I don’t care; I’ll tell you everything, even if it’s self-incriminating. I just didn’t do that.”

“In that case, I just might know a sympathetic judge who’ll be receptive to your story,” Nemo replied with a wink. 

“You heard that, too?” Killian asked, impressed.

“Aye, almost all of it. I saw what happened outside the office, and followed as quickly as I could. This isn’t the most solid building; there were plenty of spots to spy from.”

“Yeah, Neal’s never been great at picking the best hideouts,” Emma added.

“Nor very original, I gather; we make at least one bust a month here. We knew where you were headed right away.”

Before either of them could ask who “we” was, an officer Killian had worked with on occasion—Billy, he thought was his name—popped his head in the open door. “We’ve got these guys, boss; want help with that one?” he asked, nodding at Neal.

“Yes, please,” Nemo replied, both polite and commanding in a way only he could manage. “I don’t think Jones here is going to be much help. We’d best get you to a surgeon,” he added in a quieter voice.

“Gods, I’m really so sorry, Killian,” Emma said again, trying in vain to staunch the sluggish flow of blood from the cut on his cheek.

“It’s done, love; we’ll both live to fight another day. But could you help me up?”

She nodded and smiled, though tears were brimming at her eyes. It was awkward, with the way her hands were still tied, but she managed to support his left arm enough that he could rise without jostling his painful right side too much. That also gave room for Billy and another officer (Jack, maybe?) to come in for Neal, who roused slightly, but only enough to get his feet under him.

Emma let him continue to lean on her and helped him shuffle outside, where the door was slamming on one prisoner wagon, but another waited, empty; Nemo stood beside the open back end. 

“I guess that’s my ride,” she tried to joke, but its presence was anything but a laughing matter. This was it. 

“Thank you for believing me,” she continued, turning to face him, “and for everything you’ve done. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to repay you—”

“You don’t have to, love,” he interjected, reaching up to wipe a tear that was starting to track down her cheek. “‘Twas my pleasure—all of it. And thank you for trusting me.”

Emma sniffed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, so—”

“You will.”

“I hope so,” she agreed, more optimistic than he’d yet heard from her. “Send my love to Alice and Belle.”

“I’ll do that.”

“And…gods,” she stammered. Her head fell, but then she stepped closer, closing what little space had remained between them and placing her hands on his chest before looking back up. “I'm not a tearful goodbye kiss person. But maybe just this once.”

Then she rose up on her toes and placed a deep kiss against his lips, one which he didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, despite his injuries. It was bittersweet—filled with the tenderness and sweetness of a new relationship but aching with an air of finality. 

He held her as tight against him as he dared, even when they eventually broke apart for air. If this was the last moment they’d have for an unknown amount of time, they were going to savor it. 

At least—until she shifted and hit his sore spot, making him suck in a breath in pain. 

“Dammit—sorry,” she cursed, and stepped back a bit. 

“With any luck, that will be all healed up next time you see me,” he promised her (through strained breaths). 

He could see a quip on the edge of her tongue, but she bit it back. “Will you write?” she settled on. 

“Absolutely.”

“Although—I don’t know where I’ll end up.”

“Nemo will.”

“Okay.” She glanced over her shoulder at the man in question. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep him waiting any more. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Emma. See you soon.”

She gave him another sad smile, a quick peck on the cheek, and then walked away from him, toward her fate.

Nemo, ever the gentleman, helped her get up into the back of the wagon, closed (and locked) the door, and hit the side of the wagon to let the officers know they were free to drive away. 

The wagons started slow, but then began their amble down the dusty alley to the jail a few blocks away. He watched as long as he could, until they turned the corner back to the high street. 

He still needed to wrap up his paperwork back at the office, get examined by the local surgeon (and likely get some stitches), and find out if his preferred inn had a bed available; he didn’t have the energy for half the things on that list, let alone the ride back to Meryton. 

He also needed to collect the bounty on Emma, which was going to feel like a hollow prize now, considering he’d much rather have her. 

But the biggest thing on his mind as he watched the wagon slip out of sight was wondering how much he would regret not telling her he loved her. 

Alas. It would have to wait. At least he was a patient man. 

He limped over to Roger and mounted him, then headed off to take care of business. And to distract himself from the growing heartache in his chest. 

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Eleven months later

Killian checked his pocketwatch for the umpteenth time and impatiently shifted his weight from side to side. He was on time—he always was—but would his mark be?

To say he’d thrown himself into work to fill the void Emma had left in his life wouldn’t exactly be accurate, but it wasn’t wholly untrue, either. Once he got home after the events in Longbourn, he spent a few months laying low and recuperating from what ended up being a couple cracked ribs, in addition to the lacerations. It was some much-needed down time with Alice that he hadn’t had in far too long, and they began to plot their big vacation.

They hadn’t gone just yet, though, as work had come calling again, not to mention his own restlessness. To be fair, he only took short assignments that never took him too far from home, but they were more frequent than they had been in the past, though generally simpler (and safer).

That was probably Nemo’s doing as much as anything; the man’s paternal instincts ran deep and he’d fretted about Killian nearly as much as Belle and Alice had, though obviously from afar. 

But this—this was his biggest task yet, and he didn’t dare mess it up. Not that he often did, of course, but he was extra careful about being taken by surprise nowadays.

The street was fairly empty, thankfully, so no one paid much notice to him and Roger, waiting by the hitching post and staring at the building across the street. It was one of the quieter corners of town, on the far edge of Longbourn, but he knew his intel was good. He just felt like he’d already been waiting enough, though yet another check of his watch told him that only another minute had passed. 

The door of the building he was watching swung open and he stood at attention—but the young man who walked out wasn’t who he was after; not even close. 

What was the holdup? He went digging in his bag for the telegram Nemo had sent with the details, wanting to check again that he had the correct hour—that he hadn’t misread—even though he probably had the note memorized by now. 

Of course, it said the present time, just like he knew it did. He sighed and shoved it back in the hidden pocket within the saddle bag, next to some other letters. 

He turned back towards the street, leaned against Roger, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He was being irrational. He was too mature to act like this; everything would happen when it was supposed to. 

Which was apparently now. 

“Killian?”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and tilted his head forward. In the back of his mind, he hoped it was a move that looked casual and confident, even though his heart rate suddenly ticked up. 

Because Emma stood just across the dirt lane from him, at the bottom of the steps coming from the kingdom’s womens’ prison. 

The first thing he noticed was her shocked expression—perhaps not the reaction he’d hoped for, but not entirely unexpected. Otherwise, she looked—well, a bit tired, a bit wan, and her cream dress hung a bit loose on her frame. She’d also cut her hair to about chin length, and it was back to its natural blonde. 

But she’d always look beautiful to him, and he couldn’t help but grin.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, taking a tentative step toward him. “Are…are you on a case?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he replied casually (though in tone only; he was actually restraining himself). “I thought you might prefer a ride, versus whatever other transportation plans you may have had upon release.”

She checked both ways before crossing the empty street, but still stopped several feet away from him. “How did you know I was getting out today? I didn’t even know until a few days ago; there’s no way you could have gotten my letter that fast.”

True to his word, he’d kept up communication with her as much as he was able; her replies were infrequent but cherished, and currently stashed in his saddle bag. “Nemo wired me,” he explained. 

“That was kind of him,” she replied politely, though she seemed unsure at what that meant. Hopefully she realized that Nemo was the one who kept Killian in the loop and even made it possible for him to contact her while locked up; prisoner locations weren’t generally public knowledge and she certainly didn’t have his home address. 

(Nemo had also gently teased Killian any time they met in person about his crush, which Killian took as a stamp of approval.)

“Well, you helped bring down a wanted killer. It was the least he could do.”

Emma blushed and looked down, but it was true: her testimony not only sent Neal away on the aforementioned murder charges, but also a string of other unsolved robberies that she was able to pin on him, and a few other accomplices. 

She began to wring her hand around her wrist, which was when he noticed: the magic-blocking cuff was still there. “Oh, love—let me get that,” he said, then held out his hand to her, hoping she’d take it. 

She did, albeit hesitantly, and he had to make a point to ignore the spark at contact. He gently guided her hand onto his hook and slipped the cuff off; the skin beneath was even paler than she was and slightly calloused, but she sighed in relief as soon as it was off. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry that it took so long to come off. It’s a clever, albeit cruel, trick of the thing that only the person who puts it on can remove it.”

“And they definitely wouldn’t have let you take it off before I was taken in.”

“Alas, no.”

A slightly awkward silence settled over them as she rolled her newly freed wrist; he tried not to wince at the audible pop it made.

“Oh, I have something that might make that feel better,” he said, and turned back to the saddle bag, digging through for a well-hidden bundle. “This is yours.” He presented the small, but important, package to her. 

She untied the string holding it together, and then her eyes went wide when the fabric fell open “What…hold on, is this…?” 

“Half of your bounty,” he confirmed. 

“No, Killian—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted. “Half is more than enough for me, but I can hardly leave you penniless and fresh out of jail.”

“I’d get by,” she said defiantly. 

“I know. I have no doubt you would thrive. But I wanted to help ensure it.”

She worried her bottom lip. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I like the hair,” he went on, hoping to somewhat change the subject from the past to at least the present. “It’s nice to see your natural coloring.”

“Thanks,” she replied, still shyly, and tucked a bit behind her ear. “The brown was looking weird as it grew out, so one of the girls in there just cut it off for me. I’m still getting used to it being so short, though.”

“It frames your face nicely,” he couldn’t help but add. 

She smiled up at him through her lashes, but her face suddenly fell and she practically jumped into his space.

“Oh gods—your cheek,” she lamented, reaching up to brush the new scar that crossed his face. “I didn’t realize that cut was so deep; I’m so—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he told her. “It wasn’t your fault. And it’s all healed now. Frankly, I think it makes me look rather dashing,” he only half joked, with a terrible wink. 

She giggled and rolled her eyes, but continued to cup his face. “I missed you,” she admitted. 

He knew she was taking a risk with that confession—showing her hand, baring part of her heart to him. And he appreciated it more than he knew how to express. 

He hoped the fact that he had made the effort to be here expressed how he felt, but in case she hadn’t picked up on that, “I missed you too, love. Quite a lot.”

They were very close—close enough that he could easily pull her into his embrace, find her lips with his, but he didn’t want to push her too far too fast. 

She seemed to be thinking about it too, though, if the way her eyes darted back up to his from the vicinity of his mouth was anything to go by. But then her stomach growled exceptionally loud, breaking the moment. 

“Come on,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you could use a real meal.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I know a good diner not far from here. It’s not Granny’s, but it’s better than average.”

“Sounds amazing. Do you have to head out after that?”

It was obvious what she was doing: testing the waters to see if he was really there for her or not.

“Depends. Where do you want to go?”

“Well, I was given the address to a halfway house in town, so I had planned on heading there,” she started, and he hoped his face didn’t fall as quickly as his heart descended into his stomach.

“I can take you there, if you wish,” he offered. 

“See…my plan, though, was to write and let you know where I was, then see what kind of response I got from you before making any other decisions. So you kind of made me skip that step,” she said with a teasing smirk. 

“Are you complaining?”

“No, of course not. You saved me the postage.” Her winks were a lot better than his—but more, it was fun to banter with her again. 

“And what kind of response were you hoping for?”

“Something like this,” she shrugged. “Westley coming for Buttercup and stealing her away. Unless…you didn’t…”

“I did,” he confirmed, then swallowed, suddenly nervous again. “It’s just…been a while,” he said, scratching behind his ear. “And I wanted to make sure that’s what you wanted, too. I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, then stepped closer to him again and put her hands on his shoulders. “And that’s what I love about you.”

Killian blinked for a moment; he hadn’t expected that. But then he realized she was watching his reaction, and a grin quickly and involuntarily spread across his face. “I love you, too, Emma. I’ve regretted not telling you since the day we parted.”

“Jail cannot stop true love; all it can do is delay it for a while,” she paraphrased. (He may have read their new favorite book with Alice several times over the past year.)

He could probably have come up with a responding quip, but there’d be time for that later; right now, he just really, desperately needed to kiss her—and did so, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pressing his lips against hers firmly. 

It somehow felt both new and familiar at the same time, which was probably appropriate—even if he knew Emma and his feelings for her, they actually had a chance now to give things a shot; to take a step forward together. 

Eventually, they broke apart to take a breath, but stayed close—as they walked to the diner, while they ate, and as they mounted Roger and headed out; he intentionally took a route out of town that avoided the warehouse where they’d last been together. 

“So where are we going?” she asked as they started to leave Longbourn.

He simply answered, “Home.”  

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

That night, they stopped in Meryton to rest. He made a point to find a nicer inn than the first time they had been there—but they did continue their train of thought from that night, so perhaps not a lot of rest was had. At least no one seemed to judge their late exit the following morning, or the shy, but knowing grins they continued to exchange through breakfast.

The day’s ride saw them enjoying the late summer sun as well as each other’s presence, Emma almost constantly leaning back against him with a relaxed smile on her face. 

At some point, though, she noticed the difference in the amount of time they’d spent on the road versus their last trip, and most likely the difference in surroundings. “Where are we really going?” she asked as they stopped for dinner by another of the many roadside firepits he was familiar with. 

“I told you—home.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, but any further concerns fell silent in lieu of kissing (among other things). (This particular fire pit was imbued with a cloaking spell that made it invisible if it was occupied; they definitely took advantage of that fact.)

And after another long day of riding, they approached some familiar surroundings late in the afternoon the following day. When Emma realized where they were, she turned around and grinned at him. 

Much like when they left last year, the residents of Storybrooke gaped at them as they rode into town. Killian could only imagine what tall tales the rumor mill had spun after their unceremonious departure—and wondered how much of it Granny and Ruby set to rights. 

And he was sure they’d find out shortly; they’d hardly even reached the hitching post outside the inn before Emma was halfway off the horse. It was midafternoon, so thankfully they’d arrived in between meal rushes and had a chance at a proper reunion.

She at least waited for him to tie up Roger before running through the saloon doors ahead of him, and sudden screams and squeals of laughter and joy greeted him once he followed her inside.

Emma and Ruby were wrapped in a tight embrace next to the bar, which looked just the same as it had the last time he was here, though maybe bearing a few more scuffs. And Granny was on her way out of the kitchen to join the group hug, so Killian continued to hang back, not wanting to intrude—and knowing full well that the both of them were likely to fawn and dote on him in a matter of minutes.

He also had a question for them: did—?

“Papa! You’re here!!”

The question couldn’t even finish in his mind before Alice was tackling him about the midsection. He huffed a bit—his ribs were fully healed but still had their tender spots—but didn’t hesitate to return the hug. 

“So are you, starfish; I was worried I may have beaten you here.” She’d been growing like a weed the last year and was nearly up to his shoulder now. 

“Never! I did all the navigation—all by myself!”

“Is that so?”

“Well…Aunt Belle helped a little.”

“I see.”

“Only a little though,” the woman in question added, coming from the direction of the stairs to the boarding rooms. 

“Alice? Belle?” Emma had stepped away from Ruby and was looking at the other reunion. “What are you…?”

“We’re here to see you!” Alice exclaimed, and promptly threw herself at Emma, then started to talk her ear off about…oh, everything. 

Granny quickly prepared a feast in a way only she could, and they all sat down to catch up with one another; it turned out Ruby was now engaged and she was quick to announce that Granny had taken a paramour as well—a fact which made the older woman scold her salacious granddaughter…while blushing. 

Alice was exceptionally taken with Emma’s natural hair color, especially because “It looks just like mine!” A fact she emphasized with a knowing look in Killian’s direction. Though she’d obviously never lacked for parental figures, the fact that her hair color was so dramatically different from his and Belle’s dark hues he knew occasionally bothered her. So he was pointedly ignoring her implication that she should have someone around she resembled in that department, even if it was far more likely to happen then she realized. 

And after several days spent in town, actually on vacation this time, they settled into something resembling a life. There was a cottage for sale just a short walk outside of Storybrooke—right on the water, like the one Alice grew up in—and Emma immediately purchased it with her share of the reward money and insisted they stay any time they wanted. Which ended up being all the time. 

Storybrooke wasn’t the most convenient town as far as staying connected with Killian’s office in Longbourn, but there was a village just to the south that was on the telegraph network, so it wasn’t uncommon for he and whichever lady in his life felt like it to take Roger for a bit of a ride to check messages. 

Killian also continued to take fewer jobs, so he could spend more time with Alice—who flourished in their new town, attending the local school and making friends. More even than adventure, that was all he wanted for her, so he ended up turning over much of his part of the reward to Belle so she could go on a solo trip. (She tried to refuse, but he wouldn’t hear it; and the postcards she sent back were incredibly gorgeous.)

Emma became Killian’s partner in crime, so to speak—or rather, the opposite of it. Her feline side proved invaluable at times in conducting reconnaissance, and she just had a knack for finding people, to the point that she received the occasional solo assignment; Killian had been correct in his assessment of Nemo’s positive view towards her. (And then he teased Killian for not proposing yet. He did get there, though—in the middlemist meadow, on a date that closely resembled their first.)

Roughly a year after they returned to Storybrooke, they were attending Ruby’s wedding to Dorothy—Emma was the maid of honor, and Alice was the flower girl. It was a raucous party like the town hadn’t seen in ages, but exhilarating, and the best part was the shared looks of pure joy on the newlyweds’ faces. 

“Guess that’ll be us next, huh?” Emma asked as they sat on a bench along the wall of Granny’s, catching their breaths after dancing. 

“I would assume so,” he replied, taking her left hand in his right and observing the way his mother’s ring sat perfectly upon her finger. “Unless you’re having second thoughts; then I might have to see what Granny’s up to.”

“Don’t even joke—you know she’d take you up on it.” (Doubtful, with the way the old wolf currently was resting her head on her beau’s shoulder.) “You’re stuck with me, Captain.”

“Damn,” he said dryly, clearly not complaining. 

They took advantage of the quiet moment to share a cuddle of their own, and he took in his surroundings: Alice was playing with her friends, Belle was dancing with the fellow she’d been seeing, and the woman he loved—despite their strange and almost impossible start—was in his arms. 

Though it didn’t follow any path he’d ever expected, he seemed to be living out his own sort of fairy tale adventure, and even if it was unconventional, it was perfect in its own way. 

Emma let out a happy sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. “What?” he had to ask. 

“I'm just... happy,” she explained. “It still surprises me sometimes.” 

“Aye, love. Me, too.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “And that’ll be us soon enough,” he added, nodding at the newlyweds, “and we can spend all our days living out our happy ending.”

Emma hummed and smiled. “I can’t wait. But I’m not sure about that term—happy ending. It’s not really an ending, is it?”

“I suppose not,” he had to agree. “What should we call it then?”

“How about…a happy beginning?”

“As you wish.”

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks for reading! tags: @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @winterbythesea  @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture  @wingedlioness @word-bug  @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa-default @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @deckerstarblanche​

#cs ff #cssns 2021 #cssns21 #wish kj ff #most wanted #my ff

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Red and White

Chapter 4

Rated: M

Warning: none(?), once again doing my best with Spanish

A/N: reader background bit here is based on Tomb Raider: Revelations, thought it be fitting. Badass!Reader who is a helpless romantic/horny rights

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

When Steven revealed Marc, the dark and messy bits. About Egyptian Gods and Avatars to those Gods, boy it was really a lot. Even you who have seen some freaky things. So since he was open with you, you were open with him; you told him about your days as an adventurer. An archaeological adventurer. The way his face lit up like a kid in a candy store had your heart fluttering but you had to control yourself. Steven told you Marc was a mercenary once, thus he would understand this…You have killed before.

You weren't a natural born killer, you were born to be archeologists like your parents!

To seek out lost civilizations and learn dead languages; the adventuring came later on during your teenage years. In Cambodia, a family friend had you accompany him into a temple the field team dug into. You both didn't get quite along, but he was your mentor and you respected him. It wasn't until your adult years you saw (or believe you saw) his motives for working with your parents.

You were a real life fucking Tomb Buster, minus the sidekick and machete.

Your first kill was in Egypt after the family friend was possessed by Set. A couple of hired guns, mummies, and the old bastard himself. You shout him into a casket before sealing it with an amulet 

The conversation felt awkward, for yourself, confessing about a different part of your life.

"Sounds unbelievable… But… I wanted you to know my baggage before we get serious." Because you have enemies, though few, you do not want your lover (this was before Marc and yourself became also romantically involved). 

Two types of reactions: fanboy and serious. Easy to guess who is who.

The conversation went on, a lot of questions between you both. Khonshu was brought up and if you ever were an avatar to a God. Made sense that a God assisted you in sealing away Set in his tomb; Marc couldn't believe you had no help nor became an avatar.

"All I could do was use the amulet of Horus and then hope that worked." Spoken with a shrug.

Considering what mess was left of the 'Gathering Place of the Gods', most Gods willingly or by force were buried in stone. Harrow wrecking the place released some of them. Maybe Set was released? Or they did do to Set what they did to Ammit: stone was placed somewhere else?

What a mess business with the Gods are!

Steven and Marc finally understood why, outside of the mess on News about the massive disappearances of people by Thanos, you didn't freak out about Khonshu.

You fought Set! Fucking Set!

Crazy…

Jake couldn't believe it nor did Khonshu.

So they went looking first for the avatar (formerly and not willing) of Set.

Then the temple. Buried and nearly impossible to get into by human means. Khonshu could sense the sleeping God below the sands.

The meeting with the new avatar of Horus confirmed the amulet is his and how he blessed it to aid an archeologist. He said it was the previous (an old man) avatar he went to visit an old colleague. You, you spoke about all that had happened. The amulet he guided you to and slipped his power into it and you to hold it (you were not aware of that).

The curiosity about you sparked. Soon a spark of white became a roaring red flame with Jake in the middle of it. There is so much about you he wants to know.

Another night he is slipping through the window, you are up but barely. Seems you aren't much of an nightowl. The desk's light is on and books are open, you are trying to write down notes on your tablet. There you are passed out snoring lightly. Jake slips into the flat like an outside cat who stayed out too long past his curfew, he is careful as he gets undressed. His routine is done methodically, eyes never leaving your form on the desk.

When he does to shower off the night, using Marc's body wash this time, he finds you settling into bed. Yawning a few times then smiling at him half awake.

"Are you going to threaten me again?" He moves to lay beside you, turning to face you when you curl up into a ball trying to get warm under the cold blankets. Back towards him like before…

Jake says nothing as he lays close to you as he did before, breath hot on your neck. Hands touching your warm body, you groan as he is cold.

"W-who are you?" Humbling as you decide to curl up facing him. Exhausted from today's– Well– Day, you wanted to cuddle with either lover. Steven didn't show up after he said he was coming home. Marc didn't pick up.

Normally you would have hunted them down, but… Something told you (rather a missing duffle bag from the floorboards) this other person is in control.

His hard are cold with gloss reminding you of black ice, you lean away when he moves to kiss you.

"Dejemos el misterio para más adelante." Let's leave it a mystery for later. Moving closer until this is above taking your hands pinning them beside your head.

You stare at him, those dark brown eyes with a strange silver lining around the irises, his lips forming a lopsided smile.

When his lips meet yours it is different. Same lips but different in the way they take yours, as if he is trying to consume you. To take your last breath away.

#reader insert #fanfiction #jake lockely x you #jake lockely x reader #jake lockley #steven grant x you #steven with a v #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector x you #marc spector #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight

[mirkwoodshewolf]

I am the Celestial of Death Chap. 1; Return to the Shire

*Author’s note*

Ask and you shall receive as promised, here we begin the sequel to my The Celestial and the Company series (so to any new readers out there, read that series first then click back here to read the continuing adventures).  So not really any warnings here because we’re getting into Bilbo’s 111th birthday celebration so things will start off happy and peaceful and then the drama shall ensue.

Now think I’ll stop typing this author’s note and let you all start reading. Enjoy the long awaited sequel of The Celestial and the Company everybody!

NEXT CHAPTER

Prequel series read here

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@queen-paladin​

@queensdivas​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@byersboys​

____________________________________________________________

A new millennia of Middle Earth, well a year after a new millennia but still nonetheless it is a new thousand year reign and today called for a special occasion.  My last visit to the Shire was just 3 years ago ago but even for as short of a time it is, it felt like an eternity.

I was resting in the back of a cart sleeping in the form of a cat listening to the song of an old friend.  Yep, Gandalf the Grey to be exact.  I had been sent word of Gandalf’s trip to the Shire for a very special occasion, for today was Bilbo Baggins’ 111th birthday, the oldest Hobbit to ever live.

As Gandalf continued to sing his own little tune under his breath, urging the single horse carriage onward that’s when a voice spoke up.

“You’re late!” my ear twitched and I looked up and there stood another one of my favorite Hobbits, Frodo Baggins, the adopted nephew of Bilbo.  Gandalf stopped the horse and slowly turned to Frodo to lecture him.

“A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins. Nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.” I watched as the two of them softly glared at each other before a wide smile spread across both their faces and they began laughing.

“It’s wonderful to see you Gandalf!” Frodo exclaimed as he jumped onto the cart to embrace the old wizard.  Gandalf laughed joyously as he hugged the dark haired hobbit back.

“You didn’t think we’d miss your uncle Bilbo’s birthday hmm?”

“We?” Frodo questioned.  That’s when I let out a loud meow and shapeshifted back to my normal form and said.

“I see you always give Gandalf all the love and never leave any for me dear Frodo.”

“Hela!” he turned around and embraced me.  I laughed and kissed the hobbit’s head before ruffling his hair.

“Look at you Frodo, growing up so fast. Pretty soon you’ll be as tall as an elf at the rate you’re growing.”

“You know that can’t happen.” He chastised himself.

“Can’t happen?! Poppycock Frodo Baggins, didn’t Bilbo ever tell you about his great, great, great, great uncle Bullroarer Took was so large, he could ride a horse such as this one?” I said pointing to the horse in front of our carriage.

“He may have mentioned it once or twice when telling me of the family history.”

“Then don’t doubt that for a second.” I said as I booped his nose and Gandalf urged the horse onward once more.  “Speaking of you Bagginses, how is old Bilbo doing these days?” I asked.

“Yes. We hear it’s going to be a party of special magnificence.” Gandalf said as I adjusted Frodo on my lap as I sat next to Gandalf now.

“You both know Bilbo. He’s got the whole place in an uproar.” Gandalf and I softly chuckled.  I nodded in agreement while Gandalf held his pipe between his teeth.

“Well that should please him.” Gandalf replied.

“Half the Shire’s been invited, and the rest of them are turning up anyway.” Frodo said to us which made us all laugh.  As we rode on, our conversations continued to grow. Frodo asking me where all I have been since I last visited the Shire, whom all I’ve met and the places I’ve been. I told him I would do my story time about my own adventures at Bilbo’s party for I indeed had a story to tell.

Soon the familiar green rolling hills and hobbit holes came into view as we rode over the pathway.  I also began to notice a distant look in Frodo’s eyes, and his mind appeared to be running like a volcano about to combust.

“Something on your mind Frodo?” I asked him.

“Well, to tell you the truth. Bilbo’s been a bit odd lately.” Gandalf and I looked at him, about to speak up when Frodo said, “I mean, more than usual. He’s taking to locking himself in his study. He spends hours and hours poring over old maps when he thinks I’m not looking. He’s up to something.” I hummed softly.

For my few visits to the Shire, I did notice a slight change to Bilbo’s character, he’s been a bit secretive up to the point of paranoia. Not to mention that ever since the incident with the goblins in the Misty Mountains 60 years ago, he’s seem to grow fond of fiddling with his pockets.

Frodo and I turned to Gandalf who was acting suspicious himself. Smoking his pipe and clearing his throat acting like he was trying to hide something from us.

“Alright then keep your secrets.” Frodo said with a slight grin.

“What?” Gandalf said taking his pipe out of his mouth.

“But I know you had something to do with it.”

“Good gracious me.” Gandalf muttered again.

“Before you came along, we Baggins were very well thought of.” Frodo then began to explain.

“Oh indeed you were.” I said.

“Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected.”

“If you’re referring to the incident with the Dragon, I was barely involved.” More like not involved, you left our journey at the gates of Mirkwood.  “All I did was give your uncle a little nudge out of the door.”

“Whatever you did, you both have been officially labeled disturbers of the peace.” My jaw dropped.

“Including me?”

“Afraid so Hela.” I playfully glared at Gandalf and said.

“And this is what I get for traveling with wizards. Come join the adventure he says, you’ll have a bigger calling he says.”

“Oh hush young Celestial! But I was right about the Quest. It did open up new friends to you.” I smiled fondly thinking back to the Dwarvish company and the memories I had with Fili and Kili.  I even stroked my braids that I kept of theirs, not once have I allowed those braids to come undone since their death at Ravenhill.

“True. But now I’ll have to redeem myself to the eyes of the Hobbit elders. The only Celestials to cause that level of trouble were Kingo and Sprite. They’ll never hear the end of it if they know an entire race has labeled me as such a title.”

Riding further into the Shire, I soon began to hear the sound of children exclaiming Gandalf’s name as well as my own.  The children began to gather together chasing after the cart telling Gandalf to unveil his famous fireworks and for me to do a little Celestial magic myself.

“Fireworks Gandalf, Magic flowers Hela.” Were their repeated sayings.  I turned to Gandalf who just looked ahead not even hearing their wishes.  The children soon stopped running and just stood there sadly.

Soon the booming and crackling of fireworks creating wavy lines, and with a flick of my wrist and the glow of Cersei’s gem, the flowers surrounding one particular hobbit home began to dance and come alive.  The children all cheered happily as Gandalf and I both smiled and gave each other a high five.

“Gandalf, Hela. I’m glad you’re both back.” Frodo said as he stood up from my lap.

“So are we Frodo.” I told him as I gave his cheek a kiss and he hopped off the cart and waved goodbye to us and we waved back to him.

“So are we.” Gandalf muttered with a smile.  After about ten minutes we finally came to the very Hobbit Hole we were searching for, Bad-End, the home of Bilbo Baggins himself.  Gandalf eased the horse to a halt and he got off first before extending his hand out to me.

“Thank you Mithrandir.” I said in a posh tone as I got off the cart as well.  We walked up to the gate and saw that there was a sign nailed up to it that read:

NO ADMITTANCE

Except on Party business

Gandalf opened the gate and allowed me to walk in first then he followed behind me.  I hopped up the steps, excitement in each step as I gave a knock at the door.

“No thank you!” Bilbo’s voice snapped. “We don’t want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!”

“And what about very old friends?” Gandalf said.  The green door opened and there stood my first and dearest Hobbit friend, Bilbo Baggins.

“Gandalf? Hela?”

“Bilbo.” I greeted warmly with a smile as I held my arms out.

“My dear Hela! Gandalf!” Gandalf and I knelt down to his height as he embraced us both at the same time.

“Good to see you. One hundred and eleven years old who would believe it?” Gandalf said.  The three of us separated from each other and I said as I cupped Bilbo’s cheek gingerly in my hand.

“There must be some Celestial youth in you my dear hobbit.”

“She’s right. You haven’t aged a day.” Bilbo looked at the both of us with such love and affection, I even noticed some tears in his eyes.  We all softly laughed before Bilbo invited us in with a warm smile and a pep in his step.

“Come on come in! Welcome, welcome.” I was the first to duck under the door followed by Gandalf.  He closed the door as soon as Gandalf came in.  He then came up to Gandalf and offered to take his hat and staff before offering us a drink. “Tea, or perhaps something a little stronger? I’ve got a few bottles of the Old Winyard left. 1296, very good year. Almost as old as I am.” Bilbo placed Gandalf’s things against a coat rack before scattering off further into his home. “It was laid down by my father. What’s say we open one ehh?”

“Just tea, thank you.” Gandalf said before hitting his head once again on the chandelier candle.

“Think I’ll just have some milk if you’ve got any Bilbo.” I called out to him.

“Of course Hela.” I then heard a thud and a groan from Gandalf and I said to him.

“Still hitting yourself along the ceiling? I remember when we came here with the Company you kept hitting your head at every first turn of the house.”

“Still always need to get used to the height hobbit holes are.” Gandalf said.  As we walked along, remembering every room Bilbo had in this home of his, we soon came into his study as Bilbo went on a ramble of food and drink and being unprepared for our sudden visit.

It was then I came across a familiar portion of a map.  I set aside the other maps and picked up the framed map to see it was the Map of Erebor.  The very map Gandalf gave to Thorin.  My lip slightly quivered as I stroked the delicate paper gingerly.

“They’ve missed you a great deal according to Balin when last I came here with him.” Gandalf told me.

“I wish I could’ve visited them more than I did. I missed them just as much. How are they all? Last I heard of Balin he, Ori and Oin tried to reclaim Moria.”

“And they did. They did just that.” Gandalf told me.

“Good, that’s good. And I assume Balin took the seat as Lord of Moria?” he nodded.  “Good, that’s good. A dwarvish kingdom like that deserves to be back under the ruling of the Dwarves. Especially after Thror couldn’t do that for them so long ago.”

“I could make you some eggs if you’d like Hela and—Gandalf?” I looked behind me to see that Gandalf was gone.  Wait where—

“Just tea thank you.” Gandalf said as he suddenly peeked out from the kitchen.

“Oh, right. And Hela what about you? Sponge cake?”

“Sure if you don’t mind. Always does go good with milk.” I said. “Now Gandalf you sure you don’t mind seeing Bilbo and I eat before you?”

“Not at all Hela my dear girl. You and Bilbo go ahead and eat.” I then sat myself when an angry knock came at the door.  Bilbo immediately jumped back and hid himself.

“Bilbo!” a woman’s voice exclaimed out.  “Bilbo Baggins!”

“I’m not at home!” Bilbo hissed quietly at us.  He crept up towards the window as he told us, “It’s the Sackville-Bagginses.”

“I know you’re in there!” the woman, Mrs. Sackville-Bagginses snapped.

“They’re after the house. They’ve never forgiven me for living this long. I’ve got to get away from these confounded relatives hanging on the bell all day not giving me a moments peace!” Bilbo rambled on quietly as he came back over to us and stood by the small kitchen window.  “I want to see mountains again, mountains Gandalf and Hela. And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book. Oh, tea and milk and the sponge cake.” He began prepping the tea as Gandalf said.

“So you mean to go through with your plan then?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all in hand. All the arrangements are made.” Bilbo said to Gandalf as he picked his kettle up with both hands.  Gandalf picked up the lid from his cup for Bilbo to pour, he thanked the wizard and he said.

“Frodo suspects something.”

“Course he does. He’s a Baggins! Not some blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle.”

“You will tell him, won’t you?” Gandalf asked.

“Yes, yes.” Bilbo said impatiently as he poured my milk into a different cup before handing it to me.

“You know he is very fond of you Bilbo. Has been ever since you’ve agreed to take him under your Guardianship.” I said to him.

“I know.” Bilbo answered me in a soft whisper.  “He’d probably come with me if I asked him. I think, in his heart, Frodo’s still in love with the Shire. The woods, the fields. Little rivers.” Bilbo’s voice trailing off as he walked back over to the kitchen window where the sponge cake was.

There was such a distance of his voice yet it also held some sorrow in it.

“I’m old, Gandalf and Hela. I know I don’t look it, but I’m beginning to feel it in my heart.” Once again I caught sight of his index and thumb shoved deep into his pocket fiddling with something, something that was radiating something—fell. “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday, a very long holiday. And I don’t expect I shall return. In fact I mean not to.” He continued as he finally sat down.

I reached out and took Bilbo’s old, wrinkled hand in mine. He snapped out of his daze to look at me.  I gave him a warm, soft look with my eyes as I transferred a healing touch to Bilbo’s weary head and heart.  A trick I learned from brother Cain.  He gave me a soft reassuring smile as his other hand came on top of mine giving it a pat.

“Now Hela, you said you wanted sponge cake with your milk?”

“I can get it this time Bilbo, you just stay seated and continue your meal.” I stood up as Bilbo said.

“Now you know I don’t mind getting up for my guests.”

“I know, but you also know how I don’t mind serving myself. I maybe a guest but I’m not useless nor crippled so no need to treat me as such.” I responded as I grabbed the sponge cake and sat back down before grabbing a knife and fork to cut the cake apart for Bilbo and myself.  The three of us enjoying our meal and drink as we caught up with one another for the rest of the afternoon.

As the sun began to set, a half hour before Bilbo’s birthday party would begin, the two men were out on Bilbo’s porch smoking their pipes while I volunteered to do the dishes and clean the place up a bit.  I dried off the last dish and stacked it to the side to dry before heading outside to join the two of them.

“Dishes are all done Bilbo. And not a single one was thrown about this time nor knife blunt.” I teased him as he remembered back when the Company of Thorin Oakenshield came over.

“Bless you Hela you are an angel.” He thanked me.

“Not quite but I get what you mean.” I lovingly patted his head just as Gandalf made a boat with his pipe smoke and blew it through the smoke ring I knew Bilbo had made.  As it sailed through the ring before disappearing Bilbo said to us.

“My old friends, this will be a night to remember.”

#lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfic #lord of the rings fandom #lord of the rings imagines #lord of the rings imagine #lotr fandom #lotr imagine #lotr #lotr fanfiction #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #aragorn #aragorn imagine #aragorn imagines #aragorn x reader #aragorn x oc #haldir #haldir x reader #haldir imagine #haldir imagines #haldir x oc #haldir of lorien #legolas greenleaf #merry brandybuck #pippin took #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #gimli son of gloin #gimli x reader

[wishbrightdreams]

Get To Know Me!

1. IF YOUR ENTIRE LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT TITLE WOULD BEST FIT?

* Dazed and confused lol. 🤣 (not smoking btw just the title describes my life haha)

2. WOULD YOU RATHER BE A FANTASTIC DANCER OR BE GREAT AT MATH?

* Definitely math. I’ve always struggled understanding math in school and it caused me a lot of frustration. I don’t need to be a math wizard, just being able to understand it is all I need!

3. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE COMEDY MOVIE?

* I love slapstick and potty humor. I don’t have a particular favourite comedy movie as I tend to lean towards animated movies instead of live action. But I guess if I had to choose I would choose The Minions, I love those guys!

4. ARE YOU MORE OF A CAT PERSON OR A DOG PERSON?

* definitely a dog person. My mom is super allergic to cats and my dad is allergic as well. (They are also allergic to dogs, but we managed to get a hypoallergenic dog which has helped with their allergies)

5. WHAT CELEBRITY WOULD YOU RATE AS A PERFECT 10?

* Tom Holland of course! Not just looks wise either, I’m in love with his personality. 😍 I love goofy, funny and nerdy hot guys like Tom Holland. If only he was a musician too. 🤤

6. WHAT’S THE CLOSEST THING TO REAL MAGIC?

* Manifestation! Technically that’s not magic, but whatever. I believe that we are all born with some type of psychic ability, we’re just not all awakened to it.

7. WHAT IS THE BEST AND WORST PURCHASES YOU’VE EVER MADE?

* Hmm, I’m not sure about this one. I often go by reviews because I have a tough time making up my mind about which thing I want to buy. I try to analyze each thing I buy to make sure I’m buying a good product haha.

8. IF IT WERE POSSIBLE TO COLONIZE MARS IN OUR LIFETIME, WOULD YOU GO? WHY OR WHY NOT?

* Heck no! Space is scary haha. Plus Earth needs help healing so I’d rather spend my time helping people here and devote my time to bettering the planet we currently live on. Now that being said, if I lived in a reality like in the movie Interstellar I would go because it’s our only option to survive haha.

9. WHAT IS YOUR DREAM VACATION ON YOUR BUCKET LIST?

* Japan for sure! It’s been my dream to travel to Japan since I was a pre-teen. And not just because of anime haha. I’d also love to visit Europe and the United Kingdom where my ancestors are from.

10. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL AS A STUDENT?

* I took singing vocal class in high school which I really enjoyed, but I had to drop it in my second half of high school due to my mental health which sucked. I also really enjoyed communications class!

11. IF YOU COULD LIVE IN A BOOK, TV SHOW, OR MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

* This is a tough decision to make. I can’t decide on which one. I’d like to travel to different stories and experience life in them first before making a permanent decision.

12. HOW MANY SIBLINGS DO YOU HAVE?

* I have three half siblings, they are all about a decade older than me. I have two half brothers and one half sister. I don’t see them that often, only at Christmas time.

13. WHAT’S THE CRAZIEST THING YOU’VE EVER DONE?

* I’m not a very adventurous person, so I would have to say just meeting my spirit guides during a meditation and having my spiritual awakening?

14. IF YOU COULD MASTER ONE SKILL YOU DON’T HAVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

* Housekeeping and adulting stuff haha. As well as manifesting if you count that as a skill!

15. WHAT WORDS OF WISDOM WOULD YOU PASS ON TO YOUR CHILDHOOD SELF?

* Don’t be so hard on yourself, learn to love and accept your uniqueness and don’t worry about what others think of you. It’s also okay to feel emotions, don’t be ashamed of feeling sad or angry!

16. HOW WOULD YOU SURVIVE A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE?

* I wouldn’t haha. I wouldn’t be able to survive in such a place. I don’t think I would want to anyway. I tend to get very affected by apocalyptic stories so I’m trying to distance myself from them more these days.

17. IF YOU COULD ABOLISH ONE PIECE OF MODERN TECHNOLOGY, WHAT WOULD IT BE AND WHY?

* Nuclear weapons! We don’t need them and they’re dangerous. Peace and love man!

18. WHAT IS YOUR GUILTY PLEASURE?

* Hmm… not sure I have a guilty pleasure. The thing that comes to my mind is comfort food that isn’t good for me, does that count?

19. WHAT WAS YOUR NICKNAME YOUR GRANDPARENTS USED TO CALL YOU?

* I don’t think they had nicknames for me, but my dad always calls me pumpkin.

20. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CLIMBED A TREE JUST FOR FUN?

* I don’t think I ever climbed a tree haha. I wasn’t an outdoorsy kid (by choice).

That’s all for now! I will post more later.

#get to know me #questions #answered #intro post #introductory post #pinned intro #introduction #introducing myself #hello tumblr #who am i #come say hi #spiritual awakening #spirituality #new age

[strawwritesfic]

Takeshi Yamamoto x Female!Reader: But Uh-Oh Those Summer Nights [Ch. 9]

Summary: “Summer lovin’ had me a blast / summer lovin’ happened so fast.”

Challenge: “10 Summer Events” by someone on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (Sexual humor; sexual dialogue; summer vacation; comedy; fluff; eccentric grandparents; Grease references; Takeshi & Hayato & Tsuna; Takeshi & Hayato & Tsuna & Reader; Reborn & Tsuna; Reborn & Reader; Original Character & Reader)

Pairings: Takeshi Yamamoto/Reader

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Master List

Chapter 9: Looking at the Stars

The sound of something small and hard hitting your window woke you at 2:00 that morning. You ignored it at first. Probably just a tree branch in the wind, you figured, as you flipped over and snuggled Chinatsu (the cat plushie Yamamoto had won for you) a little harder into your chest. 

Then, it happened again. 

Chinatsu hit the floor as you sat straight up and peer around the dark guest room. Everything appeared to be in order. Nothing moved. No shadows leaped from behind the pieces of furniture.

And then the sound at the window came again. 

This time, you shrunk back. Should you call for your grandmother? Should you cut out the middle man and call the police? 

Another tiny crash filled the room once more. Swallowing, you rolled off the bed and tiptoed toward the window. You crouched a few steps away from the bed before scurrying over to the window and peaking your head up just above the ledge. 

And what did you see but a whole lot of...not much. The light of the moon hitting the glass obscured whatever was out there. You huffed as you fumbled with the latch. Just why you were opening your window in the dead of night was beyond you. Some creep would probably force his way inside as soon as he had the option.

The window slid open with barely any sound. Nothing outside made any noise either. You frowned, stuck your head out, and looked around. No one clung to the nearby tree, or hung from the roof, or made any move whatsoever to tackle you out of the way. 

Then what had made all that noise?

“[Name]!”

“Takeshi?” 

You threw yourself further out the window trying to spot the boy on the ground. Of course, you forgot about gravity. It took you several seconds of flailing to regain your balance enough to get back inside your room.

“Careful!” His voice carried a laugh up to your room. 

Again, you stuck your neck outside, though this time much more carefully to hiss, “What are you doing here?”

 “I came to see you!”

“At two in the morning?

“I thought we could do something together.”

“At two in the morning?”

“Yeah. You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

That gave you some pause. A quick look at the clock on the bedside table confirmed it: You had less than eight short hours of time left in Japan.

“What did you have in mind?” you asked.

“Come down,” though you could not see him, you could still hear his smile, “and I’ll show you.”

“All right. I’ll meet you at the front door.”

“No, no! You have to sneak out!”

“What? Why? My grandma won’t care, you know!”

“I know. But it’s more fun this way! Come on!”

All of a sudden, the ground looked even father away than before. Your eyes had adjusted enough that you could make out various dark shapes against it. One tall, moving shadow was probably your boyfriend...if your boyfriend was made for ants. You were on the second floor, and there was nothing to climb down on. What did he expect you to do, –

“Jump!” he called.

“Are you crazy?” Perhaps Hayato had been right about Takeshi’s intelligence after all. “I’m not jumping out a second-story window!”

“’ll catch you!”

You could no longer keep the edge of hysteria out of your voice. “Why can’t I just use the stairs?”

“Because we’re having an adventure,” he said, as though this were the most natural thing in the world. 

“Do I have to?” 

“Yep!”

“Fine. But if I end up with a broken leg, I am so breaking up with you.”

“Sounds like a deal.” Good grief. You could hear him smiling still. At least you did see the Takeshi shadow move closer to your grandmother’s house before it opened its arms. “I’m ready.”

You took another deep breath as you stepped out onto the thin window ledge. Below you, the darkness seemed to spin. Well, you had two options: Make the leap and squeeze in a little more time with the first boy you’d ever loved, or turn around, go back to bed, and leave him disappointed. Gulping, you squeezed your eyes shut as tightly as you could.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

Without answering, without opening your eyes, you inched forward two more tiny steps, then threw yourself in the direction of the yard. Your fall was short, but your heart pounded hard the entire way down until you fell with a quiet thump into Takeshi’s waiting arms. He buckled slightly before he stood up again. When your eyes popped opened, you found his smile a mere inch or two above you.

“You okay?” he wanted to know.

“I am now.”

“That was impressive,” he said as he righted you and placed your feet firmly on the ground.

“Yeah, well.” You sounded breathless. “Thanks for catching me.”

“Always! Now, are you ready to go?”

“Lead the way.”

“All right.” His grin broadened. “Let’s make a break for it.”

His excitement was catching. You found yourself nodding along and smiling in return as he spoke. Your eyes darted toward the dark windows of your grandmother’s house. It was unlikely she would be upset at a nighttime jaunt with Takeshi, but he was right–you were having an adventure, and pretending you couldn’t be caught made things a lot more fun.

Takeshi caught your eye and pressed his finger to his lips. You tried not to giggle as you mimicked him. As soon as he made sure you were paying attention, he darted toward a nearby bush. Back and forth he sprinted across the lawn with you in hot pursuit. Only at the gate did he stop to pat your head. This made you giggle outright before you followed him at a brisk trot down the street.

“We made it!” you cried triumphantly.

“We did. Let’s go!”

“Right!”

“Make sure he wears a condom!” your grandmother shouted after you. 

You shook your head, but laughed. Behind you, the light in her window shut off as you followed Takeshi away.

******

“This way, come on!” he urged you some five or ten minutes later. 

“I’m coming. Where are we going?”

“Hold on. We’re almost there.”

You pushed past another set of branches. Then you saw a large, round clearing sitting in the middle of the young forest. Takeshi stood in the very center as he watched the shifting leaves you came through.

“Here?” you asked.

“Here.”

“What’s here?”

He gestured toward the sky as you neared, but did not give you much time to look at it. As he sat down, he tugged gently on your wrist so that you lowered yourself next to him. You looked up and gasped. Above you hung an inky black expanse studded with twinkling stars. The fluffy branches that ringed your clearly hid the moon, but still you could see a bit of pearly halo drifting past the natural fence.

“It’s really beautiful, Takeshi.”

“Yeah. I wanted you to see it at least once. Before…well, you know.”

“Yeah.” You shut your eyes, leaned your head against his shoulder, and snuggled closer to his neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything. This has been the best summer ever. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Takeshi’s shoulder shifted. You opened your eyes and sat up. He was looking at you, his face very close to your own. Your breathing slowed as he lifted his hand to cup your chin. The look on his face was so unusually serious that you weren’t sure what to think. Was he okay? Did you need to take him home? 

Before either question on your tongue, his lips were on your own. The kiss was was short and sweet. As quickly as it began, it ended, and Takeshi returned his usual, grinning self before he declared:

“It’s been my favorite summer ever, too.”

#fan fic #straw writes #reader insert #second person pov #challenge fic #khr #katekyo hitman reborn #takashi yamamoto #yamamoto takeshi #yamamoto takeshi x reader #yamamoto takeshi x you #yamamoto takeshi x y/n #reborn #khr x reader #khr x you #khr x y/n #katekyo hitman reborn x reader #katekyo hitman reborn x you #katekyo hitman reborn x y/n #takeshi yamamoto x reader #takeshi yamamoto x you #takeshi yamamoto x y/n #khr reader insert #reborn reader insert

[albertonykus]

Doraemon Movie Review: Nobita and the Legend of the Sun King (2000)

What is Doraemon? The title character of the Doraemon manga and anime is a blue robotic cat from the 22nd Century who keeps an array of high-tech gadgets in a portable pocket dimension on his belly, and has traveled from the future to improve the fortunes of a hapless schoolboy named Nobita. Although relatively obscure in the English-speaking world, Doraemon is a Mickey-Mouse-level cultural icon in East Asia (and some other regions, too). The Doraemon franchise was a big part of my childhood, and there are still elements of it that I enjoy now.

Doraemon has released theatrical films almost annually since 1980, most of which involve Nobita and his friends (kind Shizuka, brash Gian, and crafty Suneo) getting swept into adventures thanks to Doraemon's gadgets. Despite being of potentially broad appeal to fans of science fiction and animated films, there are very few English reviews of the Doraemon movies, so I'm embarking on a project to write about all the films that have come out so far. Good luck to me…

Movie premise: Nobita switches lives with a prince from a Maya-esque civilization, who somehow looks just like him.

My spoiler-free take: A well-structured film with perhaps the best-written development for a movie-exclusive Doraemon character.

POTENTIAL SPOILERS AFTER THIS POINT

Review: This might have been the first Doraemon movie I ever watched. I remembered it as a good one, and I’d generally still agree with that assessment. That’s not to say that one can’t find holes in the narrative (why does Doraemon try attacking the villains’ moving statues even after he’s already realized they’re illusions?), but I found it a well-crafted and enjoyable story overall.

Furthermore, Prince Tio may very well have the most compelling arc of any movie-exclusive character in a Doraemon film. This movie also ends up being a great showcase for Nobita, with his role as a foil for Tio bringing out Nobita’s best qualities as a person. That being said, Tio getting together with his handmaiden, Kuku, at the end does feel a bit forced given that she barely gets to witness his character development firsthand during the events of the story (and what she thought she saw as growth on Tio’s part occurred while Nobita was posing as the prince).

All things considered, I’ve settled for a three-star rating here, but this is right on the cusp of being a four-star Doraemon movie in my book. Besides, where else would one get to see Doraemon as a quetzal?

Star rating: ★★★☆☆

#Doraemon #Anime #Nobita and the Legend of the Sun King #ドラえもん