#Agent whiskey fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

absurdthirst · 8 months

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Unwillingly Bonded {Alpha!Agent Whiskey x Omega!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7k

Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamics, heats, compulsion to breed, Alpha Whiskey asks permission, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, marking, mating/bonding, abandonment, oral sex (female receiving) knotting, angst, pregnancy, labor, child birth, Jack is a jerk, PTS, trauma, medical trauma, labor complications, hospitals, medically induced comas, second chances.

Comments: On a mission, Agent Whiskey comes across an omega in heat, you. Working you through your need, he bonds with you by marking you as his. Only Jack doesn't want another omega, even as much as it hurts you.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

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|| MasterList || Agent Whiskey MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Jack checks his watch, not hearing any warnings from Ginger so he knows it’s fine to go into the house. It’s your average suburban house, nothing special, but the hard drive that contains most of the world’s nuclear codes on it is in there and Jack needs to get it so it can be destroyed. He works quietly and to get inside and that’s when it hits him. “Fuck.” He growls, both in frustration and arousal. That smell. Something he hasn’t smelled in years. An omega in heat and not just any omega…his omega. Instinct overcomes him as all thoughts of the hard drive are pushed aside as he stalks through the house, cock hard and aching and he slams the door to the bedroom open. Finding you spread out, sweat glistening on your skin as your fingers work in and out of your needy, aching cunt. You’re in heat and you look glorious.

“Alpha, please.” You beg, recognizing who Jack is to you and he can’t stop himself, driven by an ancient need, he surges forward onto the bed, shrugging off his jacket as his lips meet yours.

This stranger appeals to you, his scent an instant comfort and a temptation. Left to ride out your incredibly painful heat alone, you had been sentenced to being unfulfilled, until his mouth watering scent had wafted to you. An alpha, your alpha. The pheromones make your omega keen for him, even as your body spasms under your own touch. He would be better, soothe you better. “I need you, alpha.” You mewl as he strips down, the clank of his belt making you whine as the musky scent of his aroused cock fills your nostrils.

Once Jack is naked, he is kneeling between your thighs, fingers sliding through your folds after knocking your digits away. “Don’t worry, omega. I’ve got you. Gonna take care of you.” He promises and wraps his slicked up fingers around his cock, positioning it at your entrance before he starts to slowly push inside of you with a soft groan.

“Alpha!” You don’t even know the man’s name that is pushing inside you but he is feeling perfect as he stretches out your needy cunt.

He isn’t soft or gentle, setting a harsh pace immediately to give you what you need. Jaw clenched as all thoughts except the way you feel around him leave his mind. The urge to bite you is already gnawing inside of him, but he focuses on making you feel good, his hand grabbing your thigh to lift it higher on his hip so he can push deeper inside of you.

“Oh fuck.” You choke out when he manages to feel like he's grinding even deeper inside you than he had originally. Better than anything your fingers could have done, his cock hits deep inside of you and makes you whimper every time he pushes deep and kisses your womb.

Jack can’t speak, the only thing coming from his mouth is growls as he furiously fucks you into the mattressl. He needs you to cum so his fingers find your clit, rubbing harsh circles and making him hiss when you clench down around him. “Omega.” He growls in warning, wanting you to cum for him.

You whine, deep in the back of your throat as you wrap your leg around the back of his thighs. It’s everything you needed and you can’t help but thank the gods that he showed up. The fire in your belly is eased every time he thrusts into you. Arching your back, you present your scent gland to him as you start to cum. Crying out in pleasure as your body shakes under his and stars flash white in your eyes.

“Fuckkkk.” Jack hisses, thrusting into you like a jackhammer and he leans down, unable to stop himself as his teeth sink into your neck. Marking you as his for all to see, his omega, his mate. He can’t stop himself as he claims you as his and his knot swells, catching inside of you until he cums, painting your walls with his hot seed.

The wordless cry of pain and pleasure is loud, your body fusing with his as you feel his teeth sink into your gland. The turmoil and anxiety that comes with being an unbonded omega instantly quelling as your heart stops a beat and starts to synchronize to his. Mated together and bonded so that your happiness, your future, was intertwined with his.

Jack rides out his orgasm and he withdraws his teeth, licking over the mark he’s left on your skin. “I’m Jack.” He introduces himself and you smile sleepily, telling him your name. Jack shifts to lay on his back, still locked inside of you as he lets you lay on his chest, his eyes closing. He can feel your satisfaction and it sends him into a deep sleep, his arms wrapped around you to keep you safe in your slumber.

When you wake up, you notice immediately that he is no longer inside you. Disoriented, you sit up and look around blearily, finding him getting dressed again. “Alpha?” You croak, frowning. “Where are you going?” You shuffle to the end of the bed and start to get up so you can dress as well. Your heat is still in swing, but if you need to leave, you can control yourself until you get where he wants you to be.

“I gotta go, sweetheart. Gotta head back to my work. I got a report to type up and shit to do. It was a pleasure makin’ your acquaintance, but this cowboy has places to be.” He says, putting his hat on his head.

“You aren’t leaving me.” You shake your head and hurry to put your clothes on. “You marked me, mated me.” You remind him, his teeth marks are embedded in your scent gland for everyone to see. “I’ll be ready in just a minute. I’ll pack my things.”

Jack huffs and shakes his head, pissed that he marked you. His body is aching for you even now and he can feel your anger at him as you shuffle to get ready and grab a bag. “I didn’t - I don’t want a mate.” He murmurs to himself, deciding to search around for the hard drive he came in here to find. “What?” You ask, turning towards him and he shakes his head, “nothin’. Just get your shit.”

You hurry up and finish packing, shoving your things into a bag. You hated being here and had hoped to be able to leave, finding that opportunity with the alpha who had marked you. “It’s in the safe behind the dresser.” You tell him. “The hard drive you’re here for.”

“What? What do you know about that?” He demands, looking up and frowning.

You shrug. “They wanted to keep whatever was in that hard drive safe. Figuring an omega in heat would distract whoever was looking for it.”

He’s shocked but can’t deny the idea is ingenious. He nods and walks over to the dresser, “you know the code, omega?” He asks, his voice a little demanding and you nod, giving him the code.

“It’s my birthday.” You confess, “my brother…he’s the one you’re looking for. He - he wants infamy and I- I wish he would stop being the bad guy. He kidnapped me, brought me here two days ago.” You confess and Jack nods, working on pushing the dresser aside so he can open the safe, taking out the hard drive.

You bite your lip and watch Jack, the cowboy alpha who has claimed you. He’s handsome. His thick mustache is perfectly groomed and his Stetson fits the jeans, button up and sports jacket. Right down to the double six shooters he wears and the cowboy boots on his feet. He’s got to be some kind of police, not sure who, but he’s here because your brother is a bad man. You don’t have any love for him, he had been willing to let any alpha abuse you to keep his secrets.

He takes out one of his weapons, not trusting you just yet despite being bonded to you. He is waiting for an ambush now that he has the hard drive and he grabs your hand, pulling you along through the house. He’s cautious of any traps, people that are gonna jump out at him but he guesses that would’ve happened while he had his cock inside of you. “Come, omega.” He says, guiding you out of the house and to the car he has waiting to take him to the airfield.

You are relieved that you are leaving, clinging to him as he speaks to someone through an invisible speaker somewhere on him. “Alpha.” You hear a helicopter approaching and your eyes widen when you see it burst on the horizon. “Is that for us?”

“Yes it is, darlin’. You afraid of flyin’?” He asks you and you shake your head. “Good.” He nods and he guides you over to the car, helping you in. It’s a short drive across the small town to the airfield and he helps you out after he exits the car. The wind from the helicopter is strong and he keeps you close as he guides you to the bird, wanting you to be safe and away from this damn town.

You watch the houses grow smaller and turn towards your alpha, cuddling into his side. You feel comforted by his presence, his scent. Your nose pressed against his scent gland and you sigh, enjoying the waft of satisfaction you are getting from him. Wondering if it’s from his happiness on the mission he was on or from you, you can only guess.

Jack feels you relax against him and he allows himself to comfort you but he takes his phone out to message Ginger to prepare his home for you. The helicopter ride doesn’t take long and soon he’s landing at the airfield for Statesman and he has the car waiting. He helps you off of the helicopter and to the awaiting car. “Come, omega. Let’s go home.” He says and helps you into the car, putting your bag in the trunk before he gets in and starts the engine.

His seed is still inside you and the idea of a home, a real home with your alpha, makes your omega preen. You eagerly look out the window, wondering what kind of home he has and the prospect of building a real nest for your heats appeals. Your family hasn’t been the best and you are glad that he marked you. “Where is our home?” You ask curiously.

“I have a farmhouse. My ma and pa had it built before I was born and it’s been mine ever since my ma passed away.” He reveals, having lived in the home on and off for the past ten years. It’s his childhood home and he hopes you’re happy there. The drive isn’t long and he’s soon pulling up outside the ranch house, “home sweet home.”

It’s a beautiful little thing, although it has an air of being abandoned. As if your alpha hadn’t spent much time here. That doesn’t matter, you will make it a soft landing for him, a haven from the cruel world. “Alpha, it’s beautiful.” You tell him breathlessly, charmed by the place. “Do we- would you mind if I changed things? Made it comfortable for you?”

Jack won’t argue with you, he will let you do what you want. “I want it to be comfortable for you.” Jack says and he opens the door for you after parking his bronco and he helps you inside with your bag. “I want you to make this your home.” He says after he turns on the lights and you frown, turning to look at him.

“You mean our home?” You ask and he shakes his head, “I will be going to my apartment in the city. This is your home.””

“Alpha.” You look around in confusion. “You…you bonded with me. My place is where you are.” You know that it is possible to spend time apart, but any longer than a day is incredibly painful for a bonded alpha and omega. “Let me come with you to your apartment. I will make sure you are happy.”

“I - I can’t.” Jack shakes his head, shifting to sit down on the sofa and he takes his hat off to set it down on the coffee table. “I can’t stay with you, omega.” He says and you sit down next to him, “why not?” Your lower lip trembles and he feels your hurt.

“I- I was mated. I was twenty and she was my high school sweetheart. We were so in love and so young. We were bonded and we got married, she got pregnant. Then one night she went to a gas station and went inside to get a chocolate bar, one of her cravings, and she was shot by two drug addicts who wanted money and she got caught in the fray, she was killed when she was seven months pregnant. I- I can’t lose another omega. I never wanted to be mated again but then you- it was like I couldn’t control myself. I can’t be with you. I cannot go through that again.”

Your heart breaks, hating that he is unwilling to fulfill his duty to you. He had bonded with you and had no intention of keeping you with him. Curling away from him, you wrap your arms around yourself and cry, his rejection of you piercing through you like a knife. “Please.” You beg, closing your eyes to try to keep from reaching for him, or seeing the disgust in his eyes. “You are my alpha.”

He can feel your anger and sadness but it doesn’t sway him. The memory of his highschool sweetheart laying on the slab with her baby bump and his unborn son flashes in his mind and he won’t go through that again. He shakes his head again, “I’m sorry. I can’t stay with you. You’ll be safe here. I- I’ll come back to help you with your heats.”

You turn your back to him, unwilling to let him see you hurting even though he can smell it on you. “Don’t bother, alpha.” You manage to grit out. “I am sure that there are other places you would rather be.”

Jack doesn’t push, knowing you are going to hate him but hating him is better than you being dead. “Okay. If you need anything, I- you can call me on this phone.” He hands you the phone he has in his pocket. He can get another one from Ginger but the line is secure so you won’t be jeopardized by his enemies listening in. You choke on a sob and he doesn’t say anything, just stands up and makes his way to the door. “I’m sorry, omega. I didn’t - I never expected to be in this position. I didn’t even know you could - I barely survived losing my last mate. I cannot do it again. I’ll speak to you soon.” He half promises and steps out of the door and makes his way to his bronco.

Your heart shatters, every step he takes away from you burning you like a flame being held to your scent gland. Knowing that he has no intention of being with you makes you collapse onto the floor, sobbing. Distress pours off of you in waves and you wonder why he had marked you if he had no intention of keeping you. It would have been better to just fuck you and leave you there because now your happiness and your health is tied to a man who has no need for you.

Jack can feel your devastation through your bond but he tries to ignore it, the way his body is pushing him to go back and comfort you. He nearly died after he lost his last mate, he can’t go through that again. That was worse than what he’s feeling now. He swallows harshly, gripping the steering wheel as he makes his way to the compound to his apartment there so he can get away from you. This is for the best, it has to be.

You don’t know how long you lay on the floor of the house where Jack had abandoned you. Unable to do anything but mourn the rejection of your alpha, you don’t sleep or drink or eat as you wallow in the pain and misery. Unable to do anything but deal with the pain of his emotional and physical distance, you wonder if it would be better to just break the bond with him.

****

It’s been weeks since Jack left you crying on his living room floor. The ache has become his constant companion but he ignores it, immersing himself in missions and trying to forget about his mate. He arrives back at the compound, exhausted from his last mission to Thailand when Ginger rushes up to him. “What’s wrong?” He asks, a frown on his face when Ginger shakes her head.

“She needs you Jack. She’s in heat. She - she wants to - she doesn’t want to live anymore…she told me she can’t handle it.” Jack inhales sharply and shakes his head, running towards the parking garage.

He speeds down the road, rain battering his windshield and lightning flashes in the clouds above. He’s desperate to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. He’s speeding when his engine starts to sputter. “No. No. Don’t fuckin’ - you fuckin’ piece of shit.” He growls, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. He can’t waste another second so he gets out, running down the dusty drive to his ranch and he is soaked to the bone as he yells your name, “omega! Omega!” He shouts, stumbling onto the porch.

Inside the house, buried in your nest, you writhe in pain. Whimpering and crying as you imagine Jack’s voice, your Alpha’s voice ringing in your head. Calling for you. The faint remnants of his scent around the house are all you have left and you had gathered everything you could to make it feel like he was around you, but it was no use. The pain is much more intense now during your heat than when you had been unbonded, you don’t know if you can stand this. You had told him not to bother coming back, but your fingers shake as you reach for the prescription that the doctor had given you. Needing the sweet relief that it would bring and maybe peace.

Jack runs through the house, drenched through and he’s stripping his jacket and shirt off, and he is hard already, his body aching for you when he smells the desperation coming off of you. “Omega. Omega. I'm sorry. Let me help you. Let me help you.” He pleads, his instincts driving him to help you and he’s desperate to help you. “Please. Tell me I can help you, omega.”

“Alpha!” You drop the bottle, surprised that he is here and you can’t help but think that he’s changed his mind, that that pain of being apart was too great for him like it had been for you. “Please alpha, I need you.” You beg, desperate for his touch and the soothing scent of his pheromones surrounding you. “Jack, please.”

He can’t deny you, even if he tries. He has to satisfy you. It’s in his DNA. He shoves his jeans down, kicking off his boots and he reaches for your thighs, pushing them apart so he can surge forward to bury his tongue in your cunt, his nose pressed against your clit.

“Ohhhh Alpha!” you scream in pleasure, the overwhelming flood of endorphins taking over and quenching the fire that has been crawling under your skin since Jack had left. He is a vital part of your physical and emotional health. Your fingers tear into his hair, curling around the strands and tugging as you roll your hips down into his face, grinding down on him. Desperate for more. “Please alpha, oh god, thank you, thank you for coming.”

His hands grab your thighs, pushing them back so he can push his tongue deeper inside of you. “Fuck baby. Taste so good.” He groans, pulling back for a moment until he’s surging forward again to wrap his lips around your clit to suck hard, wanting you to cum like this first.

You moan and writhe in your nest, feeling your body respond to his touch to the waves of determined pheromones that are pouring off of him. The pride that he feels every time your walls gush around his tongue and your orgasm slams through you without warning with the next suck of his mouth. Screaming his name, your body shakes and jerks from the force of your pleasure, your omega preening under the attention from her alpha after so long without him.

The way you cum has his cock leaking with need for you, aching to put his knot inside of you. He groans your name and kisses up your body, taking your nipple into his mouth while he reaches down to grip his cock with his hand. Pumping himself a couple of times before he positions himself at your entrance, “omega.” He murmurs, kissing your scent gland as he pushes inside of you.

You groan, your limbs winding around him and you practically purr at the stretch of him. Thick and heavy inside you, he scratches an itch that you couldn’t manage yourself with any toy or your fingers. Your alpha, deep inside you, was exactly what you needed. “Alpha, please.” You beg prettily. “I need you to knot me. Pump me full of your cum.”

He can’t deny you any longer. Starting to move inside of you, he hisses your name and moves slow but deep, wanting to give you the relief he knows you need. His mind is clouded with your scent and the way your cunt feels wrapped around his cock. “Fuck, omega. Missed this.” He confesses, admitting to you and himself that he had thought about you during his self imposed solitude.

You can’t even chide him right now, not when he is giving you what you’ve wanted. What you need. It just means that he’s realized he was wrong and he will stay with you now. Or bring you with him. While the house and the grounds are lonely, you need to be with your alpha. “So good. I needed you. My alpha, fuck Jack, you feel so good.”

Jack groans when you moan his title and his name, your walls flutter around him and he moves a little faster inside of you, giving you what you need. “Fuck baby girl, oh my omega. So good. Feel so good.” He grunts into your jaw as his hips move inside of you. He’s missed this feeling and he knows he shouldn’t have stayed away from you.

The steady push of his cock inside you makes you keen, rocking your hips up to meet his thrusts. “It’s so good, alpha. Missed you. Needed you so badly. My nest needs to smell like you.”

He hums, “gonna make sure you’re satisfied. Gonna make cum over and over, sugar.” He promises as he moves within you, his hand gripping your thigh to push it further back against your stomach, wanting to be even deeper inside of you. “Need you to cum again, baby girl.” He murmurs, pressing his nose against your scent gland.

You whine, loving the attention and the promise of satisfaction. You need it. Your omega content as he fucks you steadily. Your fingers dig into his back, holding him close and you close your eyes to let him just take care of you. Despite him leaving, you trust him to care for you. “Want to be good for you, alpha.” You moan softly.

He groans, loving how you submit to him despite him abandoning you. His fingers slide between your bodies so he can rub your clit, desperate to make you cum and be satisfied after hearing of your despair from Ginger. He’s acting on animal instinct, wanting to feel you cum and moan his name, his title. “Cum for me, omega.” He orders, his voice rough.

You are completely helpless to do anything but cum for him. Shuddering when the first bolts of pleasure rock through you, your cunt clenches down on him like a vice, legs wrapped around him as you soak him in a torrent of your juices.

Jack feels like he’s complete when you cum around him. He knows he should be here for you but the memories of his late wife and unborn child stop him from opening up to you. He grits his teeth, pushing deep. It’s been too long since he came so he’s moving faster until he’s groaning out “omega” and painting your walls with his hot seed.

You whimper in pleasure, the heat of his cum flooding your womb and making you moan his name quietly. Your body starts to relax for the first time in months, the pain that has been so prevalent subsiding. “I’m so glad you’ve changed your mind, alpha.” You murmur quietly, caressing his back as he rides out his high.

Jack’s knot is caught inside of you as he works himself through his orgasm and he exhales shakily, closing his eyes. He knows he should’ve been here for you and he doesn’t want you to do anything stupid because he was selfish and decided to not be what you need. Your life depends on him being what you need and it kills him on a cellular level to feel your agony. “I’m sorry, ‘mega.” He murmurs, shifting to his side so he can curl around you.

You are exhausted, the pain has been draining and you snuggle back into his arms. “‘S okay.” You mumble sleepily, eyes starting to flutter closed. “Love you.” Even though you don’t know him, your very nature makes you love him, he’s your mate. The other half of your being and you feel complete now that his scent is surrounding you and comforting you.

****

“Fuck. Feel so good, omega. So fuckin’ tight, sugar.” Jack hisses as he rocks into you, moaning at the way you grip his cock inside of you, his hips hitting your ass as he fucks you from behind. It’s been two days since you left your nest for anything other than food and to shower quickly. Even then, Jack made sure his soapy hand was between your thighs to keep you satisfied. Sweat beads on his brow as he fucks you, his fingers digging into your hips.

You moan, bowing your back as he hits that wonderful little spot deep inside you and makes your thighs shake. The past two days have been pure bliss, falling asleep with his knot inside you and waking up to his tongue on your clit. The perfect alpha in every sense, he has made this heat the best you have ever experienced and the down times between sex have been filled with conversation. You’ve learned what he does, he’s an agent for a place called Statesman, intelligence work. Which you had kind of figured out after your meeting. “Jack, baby, alpha, I’m gonna cum.” You’ve learned he loves knowing he’s taking care of you, and you call him ‘alpha’.

“That’s it, darlin’. Cum for ole Jack. Cum for your alpha.” He orders, pushing deep inside of you and his hand slides down your stomach to press against your clit, wanting to hear your sweet cries as you clamp down on his cock and soak him. “Cum. For. Me.” He says through gritted teeth as he pushes deep inside of you.

You cry out loudly, collapsing down face-first into your nest and moaning as he continues to rock into you. Pushing you through your pleasure with every thrust of his hips. You feel the knot start to swell and your eyes close blissfully. “Fill me, alpha.” You beg, pushing your hips back. “I want your knot, please alpha, only you can make it feel so good.”

He grits his teeth, unable to deny you anything as he pushes deep, his knot catching and he groans your name as he cums, his seed spilling inside of you as he leans down to press his nose to your scent gland. You smell like him, covered in his scent and that makes him vibrate with pleasure and satisfaction.

You hum, smiling against the sheets in your nest as you feel him throb inside you. Jack shuffles, guiding you to lay down with his knot embedded inside you and keeping you plugged full of his cum. “I think that was the last push.” You tell him breathlessly, closing your eyes and relaxing into his arms.

Jack feels you fall asleep against his chest and he caresses your arm and down to your side, wishing he could stay like this forever but his traitorous heart lurches when his mind flashes with the image of his dead omega full of his unborn son. It makes him clench his eyes shut like he’s trying to get rid of the image. He sighs and shakes his head, curling around you. He will be gone by the time you wake up, the note on the nightstand telling you to call him next time you’re in heat.

****

“Do not tell him that I am in heat.” You hiss through the phone to Ginger, the pain blooming through your system although you try to block it. “I just need suppressants,” you tell her. “This heat is different. I’m sick and throwing up. I’m tired all the time and the pain just seems to linger.” You had vowed to never let Jack Daniels in your nest again after waking to find your alpha had abandoned you for a second time. You had cried and raged before deciding that you were done letting him control you. “It will help with the pain.”

“I- I don’t think you need a - I think you need a doctor.” Ginger says, summoning the facility doctor to go to Jack’s house to meet you and check you out. You don’t argue and Ginger doesn’t alert Jack, knowing you’d be mad about it. “The doctor is gonna be there in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Ginger.” You tuck your phone into your shoulder and start tearing apart your nest to rebuild it for the third time. You’ve been unhappy with it and have done this at least twice a day for the past week. Unsure of why you feel so particular when you’ve never really noticed it before. “Please don’t tell Jack, I’m obviously not his concern.”

Jack’s phone dings and he wonders what the calendar event is when today is nothing special until he sees it’s the scheduled first day of your heat. He knows you must be in pain by now, he can feel the never ending tinge of pain in his body with every step he takes away from you and he decides to go see you, to perform his duty. The dust kicked up from his bronco, he enters the house with a call of your position, wanting to hear you moan for him.

You stare at the results the doctor had printed out for you. You hear Jack call your designation and you shove the paper out of sight and leap up to slam the bedroom door and lock it. Despite the pain, you don’t want him near you. Not right now. Not when your heat wasn’t really a heat. “What are you doing here, Jack?” You call out through the door, trying to ignore the way your omega leaps in happiness at his presence.

Jack tries to open the bedroom door and finds it locked. “Sugar, why are you lockin’ me out?” He asks, frowning and confused as he tries the door again. “Why won’t you let me help you?” He asks, his voice taking on that alpha quality that has you shivering as you struggle to not respond.

“So you can leave me again?” You close your eyes, trying to resist the urge to open the door and slide into his arms. “I would rather work through my heat by myself.” You lie.

“I- you can’t deny what you need. I don’t want you to be hurtin’.” He murmurs and you scoff, “right. That’s why you keep leaving me.” Jack sighs, resting his forehead on the door after taking off his hat, “you know why.”

“I know that you bonded with me and have left me in pain nearly every day since then.” You reply. “Just go Jack. I’m not requiring your services. Go back to your apartment and pretend I don’t exist.”

“I - I want to help.” He tries to sound convincing, knowing that you hate him. You must hate him and he doesn’t blame you. He never should’ve claimed you. He deserves your hatred. “Just go.” You choke and he sighs, knocking his fist on the doorframe. “You know where to find me when it gets too much.” He says, placing his hat back on his head and he heads out of the house, back to his solitude.

You hate when he leaves but you know it’s for the best. He can’t discover that you are pregnant, that would really make him run for the hills. You are doing what is best for you and for him, even though it hurts.

****

The agony is something that Jack is used to now. The constant ache as he flies away on yet another mission. His heart burning for you but he stays away, unwilling to go through the grief from

the loss of another omega. He sighs and rubs his jaw as he comes in to land in Kentucky, the thought of wondering what you’re doing comes to him again. When he lands, he finds Ginger waiting for him and that makes him frown. “What’s happened?” He asks and she sighs.

“Jack. She - she’s in labor.” She announces and Jack shakes his head.

“Labor? But she- she isn’t pregnant.” He chokes and Ginger nods, “she is. You haven’t spoken to her for months. She’s in labor, Jack. Don’t miss this opportunity to make things right.” Ginger says, having been your friend during your pregnancy, helping you and letting you vent when the anger towards Jack got to be too much for you.

You close your eyes, breathing heavily through another contraction and you let out a moan of pain. The doctor that had told you that you were pregnant is on the way, willing to deliver the baby at your home. You’ve decorated it to your tastes and prepared for your baby as best you can. Ginger had delivered a credit card that Jack had set up for you, so you didn’t have to worry about paying for anything, although the pain of not having your alpha with you still persisted. You were dealing with it and you supposed you should thank Jack. Because of that, you were dealing with labor a lot better than you could have been.

Jack is speeding down the driveway, barely stopping his bronco before he’s jumping out and making his way inside to find you screaming in pain, the midwife by your side. “Omega. Why didn’t you tell me?” He demands, setting his hat down and shrugging off his jacket. He’s terrified but there’s nothing he can do now, he needs to be here for you.

“Ginger.” You hiss, panting after the contraction has passed. “You-“ you shake your head, “you didn’t want me, so you wouldn’t want the baby either.” You reason, even though Ginger had assured you many times that Jack would have stepped up to take care of you and the baby if he had known you were pregnant.

Jack should want the earth to swallow him whole and he does when his eyes drift down to your belly. So round and full of his child, one he didn’t even know you were having. “I- I wish you had told me. I would’ve been here.” He’s half telling the truth. Not sure if he would’ve been here but he likes to think even he can work past it to be there for you.

You snort and would have replied but another pain rips through you, making you grip the bedding of your nest tightly and scream again. Sweat pours down your cheeks and you feel like the baby is trying to come too fast, but you know that you are progressing nicely.

Jack steps closer, reaching for your hand. “Omega. Let me help you”. He says, knowing he can comfort you like no one else can. He wants to. He wants to make you feel safe and protected while you go through this pain. “Did Ging not give you any pain meds?” He asks, knowing Ginger has stuff in her supplies.

“She- it’s not time yet.” You pant, leaning back and closing your eyes and trying to rest between the contractions. His fingers squeeze yours and you should pull away, but it does comfort you. Your eyes open and you look into the handsome face of your alpha. “You don’t have to stay.” You tell him. “I’ve decided to do this alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He growls at you, not allowing an argument. He may be many things but Jack won’t walk away from you in a time of need like this. He brings your hand up to kiss the back of it and murmurs your name. “You can do this, baby girl. I know you can. Focus. Breathe. You’re so fuckin’ strong. Can survive without your alpha. You can do this.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

You can survive without your alpha. It’s been a bitch to learn, but you’ve done it. Closing your eyes, you try to not let your omega take control, to preen under his touch and praise. You know it’s only temporary. Once the baby is born safely, Jack will disappear again. He doesn’t want you as his mate. You are nothing but a burden to him. The idea of breaking the bond once again flutters through your mind until the next contraction hits.

He holds your hand as you grit your teeth while the midwife comes over to check you. “You’re ready to go mama. You ready to start pushing?” She asks and you shake your head, “fuck, this hurts.” You choke, feeling another contraction coming.

“You can do this, baby. Just breathe. You can do this.” Jack promises, knowing he has to be strong for you at this moment.

You close your eyes so you don’t have to see him, but the calming pheromones he’s pumping out and the strong grip of his hand helps you. Biting your lip, you quickly change it to clenching your teeth together to suppress the scream as you start to push.

Jack lets you squeeze the shit out of his hand and he watches as you push, sweat beading on your brow but you are being so strong. Time seems to stand still as you push until Jack hears the cries of the baby and his heart lurches. “Congratulations, it’s a girl. Would daddy like to cut the cord?” The midwife asks and Jack nods, dumbstruck as he walks over after letting go of your hand to cut the cord.

The midwife hands him his daughter and she is squawking, annoyed at being pushed into the world, and Jack smiles, “hey darlin’ girl.” He murmurs, carrying her over to her mama.

Your heart stutters when you see your alpha with your daughter, softening your resolve and your omega purrs happily. Your tears are both from relief and angst that you know he will walk away again. Not only hurting you, but her as well. The midwife continues to work on you as you take her from Jack and cradle her in your arms. “You are gorgeous.” You coo to her smooshed little face, softly stroking her fluid covered cheek. “Look at you, Princess, you don’t have anything to cry about. Mama’s gonna take care of you.”

Jack starts to panic, imagining something happening to you or the baby. The fear crawls up his throat until he chokes, terrified to see you hurt or worse. You cradle the baby and he shakes his head, stepping back. “I- I’m sorry, omega. I can’t - fuck.” He tries to inhale but he can’t seem to breathe. The panic tightening his chest and he grips his shirt. “I- sorry.” He gasps and turns on his heel, running out of his home and onto the porch, desperately trying to breathe but he can’t.

You let out a sob of disbelief, unable to believe that he had run so quickly, but that seems to be Jack’s style. “Damn you, Jack Daniels.” You huff, tears starting to slide down your cheeks and you decide that you are done. “Do not let him back inside.” You instruct the midwife. “I don’t want him here.”

Jack can barely see as he drives back to the compound. His fingers gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline and he has tears running down his cheeks as he tries to drive away from his omega and his newborn daughter. He’s toxic and he knows he’d hurt them eventually so he might as well get it over with.

When he arrives back at the compound, Ginger is there to meet him with a slap to the face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She hisses, “that’s it, Jack. You need to go to the therapist. No more excuses or trying to act like you’re fine. You just abandoned the best thing to ever happen to you and it’s gonna destroy you. You need help.”

Jack can’t even argue. He nods, slumping as he struggles to breathe again. Ginger pulls him into her arms, knowing he’s struggling with everything

It hurts more than you ever thought to know that he didn’t even try to come back inside. That your daughter - his daughter - was so unimportant that he didn’t want to see her again. It makes you realize that you had done the right thing, not telling him about your pregnancy. Still you hesitate to break your bond, despite it hurting you. Instead, you focus on your daughter and the first days pass quickly, getting used to being a mother and learning to breastfeed your daughter.

Jack rubs his hands on his jeans, standing up from the sofa. His therapy session is over, one of many that he’s been attending to work through his issues and he’s stepping out of the room when he gets the call. “Ging.” He answers and she says words he doesn’t ever want to hear.

It’s all a fuzzy noise but he hears her say “collapsed” and “hospital” and he’s rushing to the hospital without a second thought. He gives you name and is running into your room, finding you unconscious on the bed, the baby in the bassinet beside you.

The doctor follows him in and explains that you collapsed. A hemorrhage from the birth and you had called 911 before you collapsed so they brought the baby with you as it didn’t appear anyone was at home with you. Jack nearly collapses himself from guilt and the doctor says you are touch and go for now, they need to see if the clots have traveled to your brain so they are taking you for a scan.

The baby begins to cry and Jack walks over to cradle her, tears in his eyes as the guilt swallows him whole. “Hey sweetheart. It’s daddy. I- I should’ve been there. I’m so sorry.” He chokes, leaning down to kiss her forehead before he looks over at you.

The baby squawks and tears up again, unhappy that her mother isn’t holding her, but you don’t stir. You can’t. You are locked in a dream where Jack leaves you, over and over again, making your heart ache and your body shudder in pain. A dream where your daughter doesn’t exist because he never would mate you after that first time.

The doctor tells Jack that they have put you in a coma to keep your brain protected in case of any blood clots and Jack spends what seems like days in the hospital room. The baby can’t stay in there forever since you have breast milk at home so he has to go home and let her sleep, feed her, and Ginger has to help him learn how to take care of his daughter.

It’s been a week since you went into hospital and Jack doesn’t think he can imagine his life without his child. He’s fallen in love with her, wanting to be her father and protect her from the horrors of the world. He rocks her as he sits down on the plastic chair, diaper bag at his feet as he sits beside you. “Hey, baby girl. Me and Ella are here.” He says, looking down at the sleeping baby in his arms.

Your eyes flutter and you groan quietly. You feel like you are being pulled out of a deep sleep. You can hear Jack talking, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. The baby is cooing and you remember her face, holding her. Grunting you try to reach for her but your limbs feel like they are weighed down.

Jack cradles the baby and notices you’ve woken up. “Omega.” He murmurs softly, not wanting to startle you and he steps closer, “omega, it’s me.” He says and leans down to smile at you, not wanting to startle you. “It’s okay, baby girl. It’s okay.” He promises, leaning in to reassure you.

“J- Jack?” You try to open your eyes but they are so heavy, taking you several moments before you can finally peel them open. “Wh- where’s the baby?” You ask groggily, not seeing her at first and then panicking. “The baby- where’s my baby?”

Jack leans over, Ella still in his arms, and he shows her to you. “It’s okay, baby. She’s here. She’s here.” He assures you, tilting his arms to show you the baby as the nurses come in, wanting to check on you since your alarms went off with your waking up.

“Wha-what happened?” You are confused and agitated with the nurses poking you when all you want is to hold your baby. Relieved when they move so you aren’t looking around them to see Ella, you reach for her the moment you can. “Give her to me.” You beg Jack, desperate to hold her again. “Why am I here?”

The nurses help you sit up and get you situated, checking your vitals but all you want is for Ella to be in your arms. Jack doesn’t argue, reaching out to slide the baby gently into your arms and you immediately pull her close. Jack watches you, tearing stinging in his eyes. “She has been fed and changed. I- I found the breast milk in the freezer.” He explains, wanting to reassure you.

“Why are you here?” You don’t mean to sound harsh, but Jack has done nothing but abandon you. You don’t want him here. It’s hard to ignore the calming pheromones he’s sending out but you cuddle your daughter close and lean over her, as if you could protect her from the alpha in the room. Your blood pressure spikes and you look up at Jack for an explanation.

Jack shakes his head, "I know you hate me but...at least let me be there for our little girl. I have taken care of her in the time you've been unconscious and I love her. I want to be her father. Please, if anything, let me be a father to her. That's all I ask, baby girl."

“What? So you can leave her too? Alpha?” You sneer his designation and shake your head. “You’re only here because I wasn’t able to take care of her. Now you will just leave again and I’d rather you do it when she won’t be hurt by it.” You tell him. “You left her when she was less than five minutes old.”

Jack swallows, knowing he deserves your anger. “I- I know you hate me but I’ve been working on myself in therapy. I have tried to - to work through my issues and I’m doing better. I know now how wrong I’ve been. I should’ve been there. This entire time. I love you. I love her. I know I don’t deserve a second chance but darlin’, walkin’ away will kill me but I’ll do it for you.” He vows, his breathing picking up.

You hadn’t expected a fight, but his easy acquiesce to your demands just proves that you had been right. He would just leave again. As much as your omega is begging you to climb out of your bed and follow him, you can’t. This is about what’s best for you and your baby. Not what your omega wants.

It’s so hard to walk out but he has to. He can’t stay there and agitate you when you need to rest. It kills him to leave but he does and eventually, he ends up in the house, preparing it for your return. Buying groceries and doing the laundry, he cleans and makes sure it’s ready for your return.

You have to stay in the hospital another twelve hours, but eventually they release you. There wasn’t a clot and your bleeding had returned to normal, so there’s no reason for you to stay. When you are discharged, you call Ginger to take you and the baby home, telling her that you’ve sent Jack away. That you are going to break your bond when you get home. You want to be free of an alpha who never really wanted you to begin with.

When you arrive home, Jack is waiting with dinner cooked and everything ready for you to relax. He knows you are going to be tired despite being in the coma and he desperately wants you to be okay and healthy even if you hate him. When the door opens, he waits for you and swallows harshly, knowing you’re gonna want him to leave.

Frowning, you freeze when you see Jack inside, wondering what he is doing here. You smell food and you are surprised that he has cooked. Or bought food, you didn’t know Jack could cook, but there are a lot of things that you don’t know about him. Instead of saying anything, you try to ignore the soothing scent of his alpha and go about getting the baby settled back in because she needs to eat again and then go to bed.

Jack sighs when you don’t say anything to him but he doesn’t react. Instead, he lays the table for your dinner and gets you some water. He hears you putting Ella in her crib and he swallows harshly, waiting for you to come out as he leans against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed as he waits for you.

You walk back into the living room and despite not seeing him, you still feel him here. Coming into the kitchen, you see him waiting there. “You are still here?” You ask, feigning surprise. “Can’t say as I expected that. Did you need something from me?”

“No. No. I don’t need anything. I just - I want to be there for you and this is my house. I’m not leavin’. I’ll stay in the spare room but I ain’t leavin’ my family. I want a second chance and I- seein’ you in that hospital bed…seein’ you and looking after Ella…it made me realize what is so important. It’s you and Ella. My family. I quit Statesmen.” He announces, knowing you won’t accept him but he’s not walking away again.

Your mouth drops open in shock and you shake your head. “You quit your job? You live for your job.” You protest and huff. It makes you frown and you wonder how long it would take for him to grow bored and want to go back. “Jack, you shouldn’t have done that.”

He shakes his head, “I quit because it’s not my life anymore. You are. You and Ella. Omega, I don’t want to be away from you. I have spoken to my therapist and I’ve been workin’ through my shit. I’m not perfect. I ain’t ever gonna be, but I want to be with you.”

They are words that you have desperately wanted to hear for so long. Your heart aches and you want to believe him, but you shake your head. “Until when, Jack?” You have been purposefully calling him by his name instead of alpha. “I'm sorry, I just can’t trust you.” You admit sadly. “I can’t make you go, but I don’t want you in my nest.”

“I understand that, sugar. I don’t want to push this but I’m not leavin’. I’ll be here, helping with Ella and helping you after you just got out of the hospital. I’m gonna look after you both. What I should’ve been doing this entire time.” He sighs, feeling guilty and he reminds himself of his techniques from his therapist.

“You should have been doing that.” You won’t let him get off easy. “I was going to break our bond tonight.” You announce. “Give you the freedom you have wanted for nearly a year.”

Jack is surprised to hear that even though he shouldn’t be. It’s painful to remove the bond, and it can lead to death. “You- you were gonna - oh baby girl. I- fuck.” He blinks a few times, shocked to hear that and he feels a little sick. He shakes his head, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shrug, trying to blink back tears. “You never wanted me. Not really. And I’ve been selfish by keeping the bond in place.” You might be a little emotional, but you’ve given it a lot of thought.

“No. No. I’ve been the selfish one. Running away from my responsibility, from what should’ve been my salvation. I’ve led a lonely life until you came along and I shouldn’t have run away, I - there’s a reason I bonded with you. We are meant to be, even if you don’t see that right now. Give me a second chance to prove to you that I can be your alpha, be a good father.”

You smile sadly, aware that your omega is leaping at the chance to reconcile. You shake your head. “I don’t know if that’s going to happen.” You admit. “I give you one week before you are leaving. A week would be longer than you’ve ever stayed before.”

Jack sighs, knowing he has to prove it to you and he’s prepared to do that. “Give me one week, just one week. And if I’m gone, you can break the bond and - fuck - find someone to shoot my ass. But if I’m here for more than a week…I want you to give me a second chance. To allow me to prove to you that I’m fully in this.” He pleads softly, dark eyes wide under the rim of his hat.

“One week.” It won’t make a difference to Ella if Jack stayed for a week, if he left she would still be too young to imprint on him. “If you are here after a week, I will see about giving you another chance.” It’s all you can offer him right now. “I don’t know if you understand how much you hurt me, Jack.” You murmur quietly. “Especially leaving after Ella was born.”

“I know, baby girl. I know.” He nods, knowing he can’t take back that agony, the hurt he caused, but he can try to make up for it now. He gestures to the table, “sit and eat. Please. I don’t want us to forget you’ve just been in the hospital.”

You are grateful that he made you something to eat, so you don’t argue. Pulling the chair out and sitting down, you look at the meal and smile. “Thank you. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” You admit quietly. “I don’t know if my supply of breast milk has dried up. The nurses said they pumped me, but they never said if the supply was dwindling.”

Jack bites his lip, “I - the nurses did say it might have dried up so I got some formula. You still have a good supply in the freezer and I- shit - I should’ve been here when you collapsed. I should’ve been taking care of you.”

You bite your lip, aware that he’s right, but it’s not like you can go back in time. Instead you just nod and start to eat. Your appetite comes back quickly and you start eating hungrily and surprise yourself with how much you enjoyed the fact that this alpha made you food. “Thank you.” You offer quietly when you put down your fork.

Jack knows he doesn't deserve a second chance but he's prepared to work for it. He knows that he can't walk away from his omega and his daughter. "I'll go check on Ella. Eat your meal, baby girl." He says and leaves you in peace. He has a week to prove to you that he's all in and he's going to do this.

You listen to him through the baby monitor, softly cooing to the still sleeping baby. It makes your heart clench and you close your eyes, reminding yourself that he’s got a habit of saying what he needs to in the moment. You sigh softly, wondering what you are going to do, so determined to break the bond when you left the hospital.

The next week passes by with Jack helping you with Ella and around the house. He wants you to know he’s being serious. He’s quit Statesmen and he’s here for you and Ella. He sighs as he makes up Ella’s bottle and he’s exhausted. Sleeping in the guest bedroom, he’s struggling to rest when his mind rolls over the things he regrets while waiting for you to at least give him a chance.

You shuffle into the kitchen, sleepy eyed and just woken up to make a bottle. Not expecting Jack to already be up. You hum and move over towards him. “Is that for Ella, alpha?” You ask quietly, voice laden with sleep and calling him by his designation almost by accident. This week has shown you what a considerate and helpful alpha he is capable of being. Slowly, your wariness has eased and while you still feel the ache of separation, it’s not the searing pain it had been when you were apart.

Jack preens at your response to his helping and his efforts, happy that you seem to be warming up to him. He checks the bottle on his wrist and Ella is still crying through the monitor. “I’ll get her.” Jack says, making his way into the nursery to cradle his daughter, cooing to her while he places the bottle at her lips. She latches it on and starts to gulp down the milk. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He murmurs

The sounds of her father talking to her filter through the monitor and you can’t help but smile. He is making an effort and it has done wonders for you. The issues with your health are all but resolved and you feel better than you had when you had been carrying her. As you listen to them, you start the coffee and breakfast, aware that both of you need to eat.

Jack changes Ella after she finishes her bottle and he carries her into the kitchen to see you cooking and he frowns, “I was gonna make you some pancakes, baby girl.” He says, stepping closer to you. “You still need your rest.”

“I can make breakfast.” You promise him. “I think I might have slept more than you did last night.” You’ve noticed that the tired look on his face has gotten worse and you nudge a cup of coffee towards him. “Do I need to take her?”

Jack shakes his head, “I’ll do it. You want some eggs and bacon? I’ve got her.” He smiles down at Ella who snuggles into his chest and he leans down to kiss her forehead. “I’ve got my little Angel.” Jack coos, rocking her and he can feel you watching him.

“You like being a father.” You realize, smiling slightly when you do. “That’s - that’s good.” You bite your lip, trying to ignore how sexy he is with the baby in his arms and your omega begs for you to slide closer and touch him. Your body isn’t recovered enough for physical affection, but that need is growing.

“I never - it’s not something I ever thought I’d get the chance to do. I never wanted to because of…you know. But this little one, she’s stolen my heart and I can’t imagine not wantin’ to be her daddy.” He confesses, “I want to be there for her…and for you, omega.”

You shiver and can’t quite suppress the small whine. Enjoying the way that it feels when he calls you ‘omega’ in such a possessive tone. “You’ve been here for a week.” You venture, glancing up from the eggs to look into his soft brown eyes. “And you’re still here.”

Jack nods, not wanting to expand on that. Ultimately, it’s your choice if he gets a second chance. He bites his lip, “and…and do you want me to leave?” He asks, unsure of where you are going with this. If you’re trying to let him down gently.

“Do you want to leave?” You want the truth, but you know it, deep down in your soul.

“I don’t, omega.” Jack promises you. “I want to stay here with you and our little Angel.”

It’s the answer you want and you know that he’s not lying, he wants to stay. “I- I’m not recovered yet.” You venture softly. “So I understand if you don’t want to be in my nest.” He hadn’t come into your room unless Ella needed something and then it’s only been once since you’ve been home. “But you could if you wanted to.”

Jack is taken back, certain that you were going to kick him out and when you don’t, he’s relieved. His heart thumping and he comes closer to you, leaning down to drop a kiss onto your forehead. “I want that. I want to be there for you, omega. I want to be yours.” He promises, leaning back to look at you with sincerity in his eyes.

“Okay.” You nod, your heart swelling and the ache that has been so present, starts to slowly go away. You know it won’t be fully gone until he touches you, but it’s barely noticeable. “I want to be yours, alpha.” You admit shyly.

He wants to scream with relief. The last week has been difficult for him, feeling the ache you’ve been feeling being separated from you. Accepting the bond has led to him having a dull ache and he wants to hold you. “Good.” He says after he clears his throat, cradling Ella still. “I’ll come back to your nest.”

“When she- “ you pause and then decide to continue your suggestion. “When Ella goes down for her nap, do you want to curl up with me? Sleep? I know you are tired.” You look over at him and bite your lip. “We can have our own nap.”

Jack nods, shifting to sit down at the kitchen table, watching you eat and he’s happy that you are eating again. After you eat, he slides Ella into your arms so he can clear up and soon enough, it’s time for Ella’s nap. He gives her her bottle and changes her before he lays her down. Grabbing the monitor, he follows you into your bedroom - his bedroom - and stays back as he waits for you to make the first move.

Your nest has been cleaned since giving birth, all the bedding changed out and it doesn’t smell like Jack anymore. Something that you had missed, even though you tried to deny it. “It is comfortable but I can make it bigger if you need some space away from me.” You offer, not wanting him to feel like he has to be pressed up against you. Your bed is large, but the nest of blankets and pillows makes the space feel crowded.

Jack shakes his head, “no baby. Let’s take a nap. I want to feel you, I want to smell you.” He says and you nod, shifting to lay down on the bed. He lays down beside you, curling around you and he nuzzles his nose into your neck.

You whine happily, feeling your body relax for the first time in months. Since the last time that he had been in your nest. You reach for his hands and cover them with your own. “Please be here when I wake up, alpha.” You murmur sleepily.

“Always.” He vows softly. Jack holds you as you fall asleep, wanting to comfort you and keep you safe. He closes his eyes and breathes you in, happy to be in your nest after he doesn’t deserve this because of the way he treated you.

It’s probably the best sleep you’ve had in a long time, in fact, you know it is. You sleep hard, aware that your alpha is tucked around you and his own pheromones have changed from slightly distressed to pure happiness and calm. Weaving through your own senses and making your omega purr happily as you soak up the scent of him. Both of you sleep, as long as you can until Ella cries break through the fog of sleep and you open your eyes.

Jack kisses your hair, “I’ve got her. Go back to sleep.” He rasps, shifting away from you to fetch Ella. He has stepped up and he plans to keep doing so, he just hopes that you allow him to keep being there for you and your daughter.

****

“Jack!” You cry, stomach aching and Jack knows what this is. He’s been anticipating it and you haven’t discussed what you want to do.

“Omega.” He murmurs, keeping his distance from you even though he desperately wants to touch you. “I need - you gotta tell me what you want.” He orders, needing to hear you say what you want.

You whimper and you know what you want. What you need. “Alpha.” You beg softly. “I need you. Please.” You are completely recovered from Ella’s birth and it will be the first time that he has touched you since then.

Jack hesitates but you whine his name and he crumbles. He nods, shifting closer to your best. Ella is napping and he knows he will have to balance caring for you and for Ella during your heat. He wastes no time stripping down, shifting to kneel on the bed he’s been sharing with you. “Tell me what you want.” He demands, wanting to please you.

“You.” You squirm in anticipation, needing the rough, yet tender approach to fulfilling your needs that Jack gives you. “Just you, I want- I need - your knot stretching me out.”

He can’t deny you anything. He nods and shifts closer, pushing your legs wide and he caresses your thighs, positioning himself between them and he leans down to capture your lips with his, wanting this to be soft and sweet. His heart pounds in his chest and his fingers find your clit, rubbing soft circles.

Your eyes flutter closed and you moan into his mouth. Your body is already responding to his scent and the nimbleness of his fingers as they work your clit. “Alpha.” You whine softly and your hips push up into his hand.

Jack groans at how wet you are, loving how you need him like this. He never imagined he’d have this again and it makes him throb. His fingers slide lower to push inside of you, scissoring to open you up for him and his thumb presses against your clit while he kisses along your throat.

You moan softly, your omega preening under the attention. Cunt clenching down around him. You curl your fingers around the bedding of your nest and hold on tight. “Alpha, so good.”

His tongue lathes over your scent gland, inhaling you deeply, and he loves how you feel and sound. “God, I fuckin’ love you, baby.” He murmurs, knowing it’s true. He does love you and he nearly lost it all because he’s an idiot who refused to seek help for his trauma. It nearly cost him everything. His fingers continue working inside of you, wanting you to cum like this.

Your eyes close, absorbing the feeling of his admission. Enjoying the sound of it and feeling the emotions linger in the air through his scent. Feeling how much he loves you, the need in his touch. He needs you as much as you need him. Turning your head, you blindly kiss along his cheek as he continues to push your body towards the first orgasm of your heat. “I love you, alpha.”

Your confession makes his heart clench and he loves it, he wants to hear you say it again and again. “Fuck, baby. Yes. I love you. You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He asks, pushing his fingers a little deeper inside of you. “You gonna cum, omega?” He murmurs, turning his head to kiss your lips.

“Yes, yes, I’m gonna cum.” You gasp out, your body shaking in pleasure and the next curl of his fingers deep inside you makes your orgasm slam through you. Crying out his name, your cunt gushes around his fingers and the pleasure fires through every nerve ending in your body as waves of pheromones waft out of your pores, signaling your satisfaction.

Jack works you through it, loving the way your scent is saturated with lust and love. Its intoxicating and he groans your name, withdrawing his fingers to push them into his mouth. “So fucking perfect.” He groans and leans in to press his lips to yours. “I love you.” He murmurs, shifting to grip his cock in his fingers.

Reaching down, you bat his fingers away and replace them with your own. Enjoying the way that he groans into your mouth when you squeeze him and start to slowly stroke his cock as he lines up to your wet cunt. "Please make me yours, alpha." You beg quietly. "I need you to make me yours."

He knows you are giving yourself to him now, all of you, voluntarily, and he loves that. He can't believe he gets to have you like this. He nudges his nose against yours before he starts to slowly push inside of you. "Fuck omega, my omega." He murmurs, eyes closed as he savors the wet heat surrounding his cock.

The fear, the pain of the past year seems to just melt away as he slides inside you. "Alpha." You moan, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him closer so that he is fully seated inside you. The burn, the stretch is exactly what you wanted and you love it.

"Fuckkkk darlin'" He groans, low and raspy as he pulls back to look down at you. So fucking beautiful and all his. He can't believe you are his, that you want him. He could die happy right here. He kisses your chin, giving you a moment to adjust to him and he kisses your jaw.

"I want to stay right here forever." You whimper, smiling as you enjoy the weight of him on top of you. "I love your cock inside me, alpha." You admit, tightening your thighs around him.

"It's your cock, baby girl." He promises, starting to rock his hips and move inside of you. "I love you darlin'" He murmurs, reaching down to grip your thigh so he can push deeper inside of you. His pace is slow but he can feel you getting needier so he starts to rock a little faster until he's got a deep, quick pace.

Your heat doesn’t seem to be burning through you this time, unable to be satiated. It has to be because your alpha is here, taking care of you. His lips press against your scent gland where his mark is still displayed. “Fuck. Baby. So good.” You moan, rolling your hips up to meet his thrusts.

He caresses every inch of your skin that he can reach, ducking his head down to take your nipple into his mouth and he sucks on it as his cock moves inside of you.

Instead of being furious and deep, every roll of his hips takes its sweet time. Like he has all the time in the world. Making love to you rather than just fulfilling your needs during a heat. You moan his name softly, the sound filling your nest and you cling to him as he takes your body and makes it sing for him.

The normally frantic breeding that occurs during a heat is slowed down so he can show you how he feels. He rocks into you, lowering his hips so he can angle his pelvis to rub against your clit with every roll of his hips. “I - fuck - you feel so good, omega. Need my baby to cum again for me.” Jack pleads, kissing along your neck.

You whine and nod as he continues his slow and steady decimation of your cunt. Filling you thoroughly over and over again while he groans your name and then your designation. "Alpha." you whimper, feeling the coil in your belly pull tighter and start to fray. "Gonna cum."

“Good girl. That’s it. Cum for me. Soak my cock like a good omega. My girl, my beautiful girl.” He groans, feeling you clamp down on his cock and you throw your head back as you cum, making him surge forward to sink his teeth into your gland again, wanting to claim you again.

Your cry is loud, ringing out when he sinks his teeth into your gland. “Jack! Fuck, alpha, I’m yours, I’m yours.” You chant, riding out your high and shuddering in pleasure.

Jack withdraws his teeth, licking over the wound, and he rocks his hips harder and faster, the urge to claim you in every way overwhelming him as he fucks into you. “Love you baby girl. Fuck. I’m gonna-” His knot swells and he thrusts a half dozen times before he’s pushing deep inside of you until he’s painting your walls with his hot cum.

There is something primal about feeling his seed flood your womb again, his knot keeping it inside you. Your cunt clenches around him and makes it feel even better, prompting another orgasm as he pumps you full. Stroking his face, you moan again and again. "Alpha, oh my alpha, I love you."

Jack shifts onto his back, bringing you with him to lay on his chest and he caresses your spine. “I love you too, darlin’” He murmurs, closing his eyes and he feels like he’s home. “I don’t ever wanna lose you.” He confesses, “I ain’t gonna walk away again. I’m here forever.” He promises you.

You close your eyes and sigh happily, snuggling deeper into his arms and breathing him in. “I love you too, Jack. Alpha.” You murmur softly. “I’m glad you want to stay. I need you. Always.”

Jack kisses your hair, knowing that nothing is going to drag him away from you. He loves you more than life itself and he won’t leave again. He’s going to continue seeing his therapist and he wants to be a better man for his family, a better alpha for his omega. You once asked him if he regrets bonding with you and he said no, he means that. He could never regret finding happiness again, even if it took him a while to figure it out.

#pedro pascal #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey fanfic #alpha agent whiskey #omega reader #a/b/o au #omegaverse

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lis-likes-fics · 1 year

Text

Sweet as Sugar

Pairings: Agent Whiskey x Reader Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pining, cunnilingus, blowjob, slight dirty talk, slight praise kink, cowboy rule, swearing (this is basic smut, I think), Whiskey’s a little confused but he’s got the spirit... A/N: I have a writer’s block toward the end of writing this, so what should have only take about a week took, like, a month. Hopefully, I’m back to writing again but I will make no promises bc it’s too gloomy outside for any good serotonin boost to write with. Thank you and enjoy this peace offering bc Pedro Pascal had found a way into my brain!

The mall was bustling with people, men and women coming and going, passing through to look at all the booths and tables showing off all the different organizations to one another as the convention continued on through the day. It was not just any convention, either. Secret services from all over the world, interconnected and soon-to-be, gathered that day to listen and learn and hopefully form closer partnerships to other companies. The entire building was rented out for this function.

Agents continued to pass by the big booth decorated with rhinestones and flowers, which advocated an elegant simplicity to represent the business they ran. Displayed on either side of the booth were two dresses: one a simple, yet fashionable wedding dress with intricate detailing sewed into every stitch, the other, a woman’s business suit with a flower pin carved from what looked like sapphires. Along the table were pieces of jewelry—watches, bracelets, rings, necklaces, just samples of what the company had to offer—and pamphlets of what exactly it was the business they were running.

And displayed proudly on the sign over their booth was a symbol, a renaissance style ‘Q’ that twisted and curved in classic cursive.

You sighed as you ran your hands along the sleeves of your blazer, your fingers grazing the cufflink on your wrist that matched the symbol of your agency. You had been standing behind your booth with one of three of your coworkers for about an hour now, waning the daylight in shifts between handling the booth and exploring the convention for food or company that was not the women running your station.

You looked over your watch as you awaited the return of your colleagues so you could switch off again, so you could leave the confines of advertising your business. Your outfit—a delicate gold satin button down that loosely tucked into your perfectly tailored white dress pants, which flowed along your legs and matched with white blazer to create your formal attire suit—was a perfect representation of your agency: distinguished and efficient. Your partner, though she wore silver and blue, stood beside you to match.

You smiled and shifted the clubmaster frames sitting at the edge of your nose as Pearl and Jasper returned, both women sending you nods and smiles as they took your places behind the booth for your switch. “We found the Kings just that way,” Jasper said, pointing in the direction they’d just come from before shifting the cloud of coiled black hair away from her face and securing it in a poofy ponytail. She then slipped her hands back into the pockets of her dark red suit, glancing back at Pearl as she spoke.

“They’ve got a nice booth. We might have some competition,” she quipped, smirking as smoothed her fingers over the thin chain of her necklace.

Opal, your own partner, laughed and shook her head. “Don’t we always have competition with the Kings?” she retorted, playful as she turned to walk with you. You agreed with her joke and headed in the direction Jasper had pointed in.

On the way, a pair of eyes spotted you and you offered a large grin. One of the agencies you partner with were the Amadoda Amafulege, the Flagsmen. They were a company set in Africa who you counted on for certain resources: information, jewels or gemstones, fabrics. They were reliable friends.

You and Opal approached them with wide grins, pointing them in the direction of your own booths to greet Jasper and Pearl. The interaction was short but warm hearted, and you were off again before you could be sidetracked by some other business you happen to work with. You both continued on walking, greeting physical bodies and holographic forms with waves and nods.

The large sign of the Kingsman symbol sat atop a booth as two well-dressed gentlemen with glasses stood behind their booth. One of them spotted the both of you, recognizing the likewise fashion choices as you came closer. Opal grinned, a mix of amusement and adoration in her tone at the company which both allied and competed with your own. “The famed Kingsman.”

The younger one smiled, offering a nod to you both. “Hello,” he greeted. When you finally stood in front of their booth, he reached out and handed each of you a pamphlet. You glanced over it, disinterested in absorbing information you already know. Both agents held their hands out for you. “Agent Galahad. This is Agent Merlin.”

The older man, Merlin, gave a courteous nod, “Pleasure to meet you.”

You nodded, shaking his hand confidently. “Back at you,” you responded. “We didn’t know if you’d be coming.”

Merlin gave a nod, smiling with a slight chuckle at your words. The Kingsman had not shown up to the last convention, business had gotten in the way and they were greatly missed. “We pulled some strings.”

You looked over their table at a few gadgets, some disguised as ties or watches, and then looked over at the two suits they chose to display similarly to your own booth. “Good to have the famous Galahad and Merlin,” you said, “and with a good booth.”

Your tone offered your impressed attitude toward their well-decorated station. Some of the booths here had not offered a lot of effort, simply their symbols on a sign and some pamphlets and gadgets on their tables. Plain. Boring.

“Some of these are severely lacking,” Opal said, practically reading your mind. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the black curls out of her face so she could see as she offered her smile. “You’d think a secret service could put together a decent booth.”

Galahad extended a hand with his suggestion, "You should stop by the Statesman. You'd probably be impressed."

"We'll keep it in mind," you agreed, picking up one of the fancy watches on display. You examined it, the Kingsman symbol hiding under the glass, the gold lining on the band, the knobs and secret accesses embedded inside.

Merlin smiled, "In the meantime, we shall take a stop by yours."

Opal nodded, "Down by the Krispy Kreme. Can't miss it."

Your thumb pressed against the button on the side meant to wind the hour hand. It obeyed, pushing down and revealing a hologram of the Kingsman symbol once more.

"Very nice toy," you commented, pushing the button again to make the symbol retreat.

Merlin hummed, "You haven't found the kill button yet."

You shook your head, still examining the watch. "No, I have. You've got the poison dart here–" you tapped the near-invisible button on the side, "and the tranq dart here," you tapped the button next to it.

They raised their brows at you, impressed. "You've got them too close together, you should separate them a little more," you suggested. "Wouldn't want someone trying to knock an important target out and end up killing them instead."

The agents glanced at each other under Opal's watching gaze and your diverted one as you set the watch back down. Galahad nodded, "Right."

"Opal," you said as you turned to your partner. She hummed and you held your hand out.

"Oh, yes," she mumbled, lifting the lapel of her jacket to reach into a pocket. She handed it to you for you to present to both Kingsman. The box was lengthwise, a thin, golden thing housing a watch made by your agency.

"This is for Galahad—Harry—sent by our boss. She was hoping for us to run into you today. You'll give it?" You said, handing it over to the two.

"Of course," Merlin said, peeking inside of the box with a nod.

The two of you left again to go look at some other booths, or to find food. They sent you off with the directions to the Statesman, waving and wishing you farewell.

As you walked next to Opal, you recounted the booths you'd seen and the ones you hadn't on the way. You motioned toward the restaurant in the distance, smiling at the waft of good food as you got closer to it. You would all have to stop and eat there later today.

Your thoughts came to a halt when you heard someone's voice speaking to you, an unfamiliar voice that had you turning your head at the two figures approaching you.

"Hey there, sugar."

The voice had a Southern twang, smiling and confident as the owner slowed to stand in front of you. "Here we go," Opal mumbled beside you with an amused grin.

He was a handsome man, charming in the right ways. The black hat on his head accompanied his accent and his outfit, a suit that screamed professional cowboy. The mustache above his lip was kept and clean, and he wore it well, along with the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

He looked at you with his dark eyes, his tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip as he smirked. "How lucky am I to see a beauty like you in a place like this?"

There was a woman next to him with short dark brown hair mostly shielded by her own western hat, her skin shades lighter as her own glasses sat at the bridge of her nose. She held her hand out, "Hi, I'm Ginger Ale. This is Whiskey."

"Nice to meet you," you greeted her warmly, taking in the sight of her with a look that could only be described as an evaluation.

You turned to Whiskey, raising an amused brow as you held your hand to shake his. He grabbed it gingerly, bending at the waist to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"How do you do?" he winked, holding onto your hand a little longer before letting you go.

Opal chuckled, "He's cute."

He smiled at her, satisfied with her assessment as he grinned at her like some excited pup.

You tilted your head, nodding slowly. "Yeah… In a flirty toddler kind of way." His demeanor did not shift, your words were no dagger to his ego. "Just want to pinch his cheeks and pat his head," you chuckled, half-reaching like you would actually do it.

You might, his skin looked soft and you want to see his hair underneath his hat.

He winked again, licking his bottom lip, "You can do whatever you want, sugar," he quipped.

You chuckled. Cute.

"You think so?" you asked, tilting your head as you pitched your voice a few octaves to sound as sweet as the nickname he kept calling you.

He shifted so he was standing beside you, careful with his arm in case you didn't want to be touched. Thoughtful. He walked a little with you, leaving Opal and Ginger to stand next to one another and watch him guide you a few feet away.

"I know so," he chuckled. "What's your name?" He said "your" in that way only cowboys can say it: that slurred 'u' that made the 'r' slightly bleed into the last word.

You licked your bottom lip, offering a teasing gaze as you looked at him through your lashes. "Why don't you guess it?" You turned to him, setting your hands on his chest and playing with his tie.

He seemed charmed, entranced by your little gestures and looks. "Probably something pretty like that necklace," he smirked, motioning to your chest as his fingers brushed the golden locket around your neck, resting just between your breasts.

You took it in your hands, stroking the sides. "You like my necklace?"

"It's beautiful," he agreed, staring back at you with a gaze that matched the lovestruck puppy vibe he'd given you earlier. "Just like you," he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles once more.

"You wanna take a look inside?"

"I'd be delighted," he breathed, leaning forward just a little as his face huddled closer to you. You offered a tiny giggle as you undid the clasp, slowly opening the locket as you built the suspense of what could possibly be presented inside.

A bright light flashed quickly into Whiskey's eyes, there one second and gone before a full one could pass. Whiskey's hands rushed to his face as he made a slight groan, and he stumbled backward. You reached forward, pressing a hand to his chest, and watched him fall to the ground.

He made little sounds of discomfort, laying on his back as he brought his hands away and blinked rapidly. He stared in no clear direction, looking around blankly for…something.

Opal chuckled from her spot, Ginger stared with a mix of amusement and concern, and you just looked down at him with a smile as he tried to see.

You approached him, bending at the hips and looking down at him with a smile. You brushed some hair out of your face.

"This is my partner, Opal," you gestured toward her, though you knew he could not see. Your necklace had a device within it that temporarily blinded those on the unfortunate end of it—temporarily.

You pressed a hand to your chest, "My name is Diamond," you reached out and picked up his hat, which had fallen off his head. "Agents of the Queensmaiden."

You brushed the fabric of the hat, setting it over his face before straightening your back. You looked at Ginger Ale as you rejoined Opal's side. "Nice to meet you, Ginger."

She smiled and dipped her hat at you once, waving. "You, too. Feel free to stop by the Statesman."

You nodded, looping your arm with your partner's, paying the blind agent no mind as he struggled to his feet. "We were just headed there!" you smiled, amazed at the turn of events as you pointed it out. "We'll stop by later…when he can see again."

You turned with Opal, looking over your shoulder and grinning gently. "Bye, Whiskey," you giggled before taking your leave.

Whiskey reached out hastily, grabbing a hold of Ginger, just to make sure she was still there. The way she could have rolled her eyes and shook her head as a dopey smile spread over his lips. He motioned in the direction he thought you walked out in, sighing dreamily.

"I need her."

This time, Ginger did roll her eyes and shake her head. She took his outstretched hand and started pulling him back to the booth. "Come on, lover boy."

You did visit the Statesman’s booth—where you met Scotch and Tequila—but did so while Whiskey was away. You wanted to tease him, make him anticipate your arrival for you not to appear and leave him wanting more.

As the night waned, the booths were taken down to make room for the afterparty that had already begun. You were standing at one of the tall, narrow tables with Opal and Tequila, enjoying the music playing in the background as people mingled through the night.

As you laughed at a sarcastic comment made by Tequila, you heard the familiarly smooth voice of his colleague fill the space between you and couldn’t fight your smile.

“I see you’ve met my associate,” he announced himself, sidling up next to you as he leaned on the table. The look on his face held no defeat or upset, he was just as smiling as before as he took in the sight of you, once again entranced.

You chuckled, looking him up and down as you watched each other. “Oh,” you smiled, “so you can see again…”

He laughed heartily at that, amusement seeping into the sound and painting your stomach with butterflies, a light, airy feeling that bounced off the bones of your ribcage. He clasped his hands together, motioning with his head toward your chest, where your golden locket still lay idly by.

“Very nifty gadget, that necklace of yours,” Whiskey smiled, his eyes never leaving yours for long.

You picked it up, tracing your thumb along it like you had done before in a slight tease. “I’d like to think so. I designed it,” you confessed, setting it back down and looking at him, your head tilted up as you straightened your spine with pride. He tilted his head to the side, his grin deepening at your clear genius.

Tequila and Opal shared a look as they took in the interaction, chuckling lightly. “I’ll go ahead and step away now,” he said, doing just that and glancing back at your partner standing by his side.

She nodded her agreement, holding her hand out to the offered crook of his arm. “And I’ll join you.” She walked away with him, shaking her head and smiling as she left to go hang out with her own new plaything—of sorts.

Whiskey’s eyes looked you up and down as he thought over something for a moment before he simply spoke again. “Can I buy you a drink, sweetness?” he offered, holding his own arm out for you as Tequila had done.

You considered him, raising a brow. “I’m still sweet, huh?”

He flashed his teeth with his next grin, dipping his head down in a nod as a gesture with his hat. “Like sugar,” he hummed.

You sighed. “Okay.” Your arm looped through his own, and he smiled triumphantly as he gently tucked you into his side. You gave him a similar gaze to the one you’d given him before he ended up walking around blindly for an hour: your head tilted down as you looked up at him through your lashes, your smile soft, and your eyes teasing—the perfect demonstration of the less eloquently put “fuck me eyes”. “Lead the way, Whiskey.”

He walked you to the bar that had opened earlier on for the convention. The liquor was all top shelf stuff—they wouldn’t dare give low-quality alcohol to these highly respectable representatives of these agencies. He made sure you were sitting comfortably on your stool before he took his seat next to you—a true gentleman.

A bartender came down to the pair of you and smiled, waiting for your orders. “Scotch, neat,” you nodded, adding a “thank you” on the end as you looked away, anywhere but Whiskey while your eyes examined the many options behind the bartender.

“Actually,” Whiskey held his finger up, “I want you to try something.” You looked at him, narrowing your eyes teasingly at what he could be doing now. He turned to the bartender, pulling his hat off and setting it to the side to reveal the neatly kept hair underneath it. “Kentucky Statesman, whiskey,” he nodded.

They nodded back before stepping away to grab the bottle. You looked at him with a smirk as he gazed back at you, self-satisfied before you’d even tried the liquor he’d suggested. The bartender returned with the bottle of the amber liquid, showing off the label to ensure it was the correct one. When Whiskey nodded, they grabbed two glasses from under the bar and set it on the table, pouring the appropriate amount into each one.

You picked up the glass as it was given to you, swishing it around and examining it. You picked up the bottle in your other hand and looked at the label as you brought the lip of the glass to your nose to smell the heady scent of liquor. “Whiskey from Whiskey, huh?” you quipped, still only sampling the scent.

He laughed, sitting back with his glass in his hand, refusing to take a sip until you had. “Give it a taste.”

You smiled suspiciously, bringing the glass to your lips and sniffing it once more before finally tasting it. A sigh escaped you as whiskey lingered on your tongue before burning delightfully down your throat. It was magnificent, like liquid gold.

"Oh my god," you whispered under your breath, closing your eyes and shaking your head.

He smiled proudly, "Good, right?"

You looked at him, composing yourself once more as you straightened your back and too-slowly set your glass back down. You let out a long, calculated breath and just nodded too hard. "It's…It's good, yeah."

He finally drank from his own glass, hiding his chuckle as he beamed. "Go on," he said as he set his glass back down. "Have some more. On the house."

You looked at him, raising a brow. "I thought you were buying me a drink," you pointed out, taking another generous gulp.

He leaned back, motioning widely to the large selection of fine liquor. "Be my guest, get whatever you want."

You inhaled the intoxicating scent of the drink already in hand, your eyelids fluttering for a split second before you just shook your head. "I suppose I'll settle for this," you told him, sipping your drink and setting it down again.

Whiskey grabbed the bottle and refilled your glass. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes playfully and smirking. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He shook his head, "Of course not. Just tryna show you the plus side of a Statesman." He set the bottle down and winked at you.

You scoffed, anything but annoyed. "What, think I'll find you?" you swirled your drink around. "We'll hook up over some good liquor?"

His laugh was nearly explosive as he shook his head, seemingly amused in the deepest degree. "Oh, no," he said. "I intend to do more than simply 'hookin' up' with you."

You hummed your response, examining him for far too long and looking away before his dark gaze could override your self-restraint. You crossed your legs, turning your body to face away from him again.

"So," he breathed, "tell me about the Queensmaiden."

You took in a long breath and blew it out to think, reaching out and grabbing his hat discarded on the table. Feeling the fabric under your fingers, you tilted your head. "What do you want to know?"

He shrugged, "Where did it come from?"

"Well," you began, "It was formed some time after Kingsman, 1952, by a man named Bobby Gold." They way you said it, with reverence and sass, Whiskey's lips twitched in a smile. "He's like… in his late eighties now, looking good." You shook your head to get back on track. "He founded the Queensmaiden to be an all-women agency, picked a protégé to take his place and run it after he stepped down."

You turned to him with a boastful smirk, "She's the first Diamond—was the first Diamond, she retired. I knew her, worked with her when I first joined. I got her name, promoted from Quartz."

He nodded, deeply invested in the way you spoke as you played with his hat, made of sturdy, soft fabric. "Fascinatin'," he smiled.

You nodded. "Gold ran a really popular jewelry business of the same name, had a younger sister who ran a tailor shop for women's clothing with her husband. He founded it, she later partnered as co-founder. Now we're a boutique found in most countries…all over the world." You shrugged your shoulder so nonchalantly, like your boast wasn't a real boast. "It's very efficient, dare I say, more efficient than the Kingsman itself."

He snorted, "Don't tell them that."

You leaned forward, too close within his space, "They probably already know." You sidled up closer to him, a clear flirt as you smiled. You raised his hat to him and set it atop your own head.

Whiskey's eyes darkened as he watched you down his nose. "You know…" he said slowly, "there's this rule where I come from… Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."

You licked your bottom lip as your eyes flicked up and down his face. "Oh, I'm well aware." His hand reached out and grazed your arm, daring to bring you closer before you pulled away from him again with a sweet smile. "What about Statesman?"

It took a beat for him to recover before he was shaking his head. "Not as glamorous," he sighed thickly. "Agency in the south full of cowboys and rascals."

You traced the rim of your glass with your finger, picking it up again and bringing it to your lips. "Well, I love me a nice cowboy," you said as you looked at him over your cup.

"Lucky for me, huh?"

"We'll see." You took a sip from your glass.

Suddenly, the music which had been in the background shifted into something else. Country music blared through the speakers and caught the attention of everyone in the area. Some excitedly stood to go join the small group ready who may have recognized the music, but one look at the jukebox provided by one of the agencies here proved that it was, indeed, a southerner who'd started the music.

Tequila stood there with his hat on his head as he smiled, one hand held out and grasping Opal's hand as he spun her into his chest. He glanced up at Whiskey and nodded once before hopping off to the large space cleared to dance.

He was the one to determine what dance was being done as he twirled Opal around into a half amateur-half professional swing dance. People joined in with their partners and allowed themselves to be swept away into more amateur dancing—a dance Whiskey suddenly seemed confident to prove himself in.

"C'mon, I've never missed a swing," he smiled excitedly.

He took your hand and pulled you to the floor before you could protest. He swung you, making you stumble into his chest as you breathed quickly. "I've never swing danced before," you confessed.

He looked you dead in the eye, his own sparkling with excitement and hints of giddiness. "Just follow me," he breathed, his kissable lips forming the words in a way that made it impossible to deny him this.

You sighed, "You better know what you're doing."

He smirked, this one more sly than the last. "Trust me, sugar," he leaned in. "I know what I'm doin'."

You tilted your head, standing up a little more and placing your hands in his. Once you were situated, you smiled and let out a breath of courage. "Well," you whispered, "show me how a real cowboy does it."

Whiskey beamed before he pulled you into the music, quick steps and swinging arm making it impossible to keep up. He twirled you out, he twirled you back in, he switched you to one side and swung you to the other. He spun you under his arm and into his chest. Just when you thought he might slow down, he dipped and held you in his arms with heavy breaths.

He caught the hat as it fell from your head, lingering there and staring at your lips. You stared into the depths of his gaze, catching your breath as they mingled between you in soft puffs of air. He slowly straightened his spine, standing you up and setting the hat atop your head once more, admiring its place there.

You smiled, leaning forward oh-so slowly. His eyes fluttered until they were closed. He looked so calm, so gentle and pretty. You pulled his hat from your head and put it back on him, lingering there a moment before pulling out of his arms and missing his warmth.

He felt you leave and refused to watch you leave him behind. When he opened his eyes again, you were gone. When he turned his head to a mystified Tequila, Opal was gone.

A breath poured from his lips as he couldn't help but smile. He smiled at your charm, at the way you left him starstruck, at the way he'd slipped his number in your pocket in the hopes you called him, finding him again and leaving him with a little more closure as he looked down at his boots and shook his head.

"Fuck me," he cursed, chuckling to himself.

That was the last he saw of you for months, the last you saw of him for months.

You hated how much you thought about him—his puppy-like flirtations, his darkened gaze, his fascination, and the way he moved you like a tornado on the dance floor. You stared at the crumpled up piece of paper with his number scrawled on it all the time, considering, thinking, wanting to call.

But you never did. Never once did you pick up the phone and dial his number. Never once did you talk about him to your colleagues or your partners—not even with Opal, who was totally smitten with her own cowboy.

You missed him, but you were determined not to.

But that didn't mean a crossing of paths would hinder a good reunion.

You smiled at the receptionist at the front desk, who granted you a smile of his own with the tilt of his head. Walking up to the desk, you adjusted the purse on your arm and spoke. “Hello, I’m here for an appointment with Mr. Sullivan. I’m his three o’clock.”

He hummed, “I wasn’t aware Mr. Sullivan was taking appointments today. Name?” he asked, turning to his computer.

“Davis. We made an appointment together over the phone,” you stated in a sickly sweet voice. “Oh, I hope I marked the right day.”

He looked at you and just smiled, shaking his head. “No worries. I don’t see you in the database, but I’ll just give him a quick call to confirm. Alright?”

You nodded, thanking him kindly as you wiped your hands down your light suit. He picked up the phone and dialed the number to his boss’ office, giving you another large grin. When the phone was picked up, he began to explain the situation, and his reaction was full of wide eyes and stutters. “Yes, sir,” he answered, setting the phone back down.

He looked back at you regretfully. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Sullivan will not be taking any appointments today. You are welcome to reschedule, if you’d like.”

“Of course,” you nodded.

“Great.” He reached down under the desk to grab some papers before wincing. “I’ll have to go make some copies. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Not a problem.”

He disappeared behind a door behind the desk and you sighed, turning anyway to go up to the elevator on your right. As you were walking, you noticed a group of men walking down the hall, dressed in black with shades over their eyes. Security guards. You straightened your spine and merely kept walking. You were just at the elevator when you heard shots firing behind you. You groaned loudly and ducked for cover. Their gunfire was loud and thunderous, making couch stuffing and wood splinters fly through the air as you hid behind a desk behind a sofa in the cushy lobby.

You cursed under your breath as you dug through your purse. “No, no, no,” you mumbled as you selected which weapon you would use. You dug out a little silver disc and smiled. “Yes,” you declared as you pulled a little pin out of the side.

You threw it behind you where the guards were still shooting, and ducked down, waiting for a blow that never came as the gunshots continued. “Talc!” you yelled, shaking your head at the newbie in the weapons department and one of her faulty weapons making its way into your arsenal.

You huffed as you looked behind you before you suddenly heard a body drop. You looked over and your eyes widened in shock and surprise. Hiding behind a couch a little farther away from your own was a person who definitely was not on their side. He locked eyes with you, and your expressions became mirrors of the other.

“Diamond?” “Whiskey?”

The simultaneous ringing of your names only escalated the confusion as you stared at one another. “What are you doing here?” he questioned in as low a whisper he could manage to ensure you still heard him, holding a sleek, golden gun tight in his grip as he paid no mind to the small cavalry currently shooting at you.

“I’m on a fucking mission. What are you doing here?” you countered.

He shrugged, “On a fuckin’ mission.”

Shit. “Shit,” you huffed. You thought for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. “What’s your objective?”

Whiskey pressed his gun to his temple, tilting it up as a gesture of his assassination attempt. You let out a breath of relief, pulling a drive with the Queensmaiden symbol on the side from out of your bra and showing it off to him. He sighed as well.

“Cover me?” you asked.

He smiled and nodded, sending you a flirty wink. “You got it, sugar.”

You grinned and counted down for him before ducking out of your cover and rushing to the elevator closest to you. Whiskey stood, grasping his gun as he shot. You pressed the elevator door button and glanced over your shoulder, gripping your gun tight as you waited impatiently for the elevator to open.

When you heard the ding, you had half a second to celebrate as a loud shot came too close to you. You looked down at the elevator button, flashing and sparking as it sat destroyed in the wall.

You pried the door open and shouted Whiskey's name over your shoulder as he retreated back. You got inside, jamming the button closed without missing a beat or waiting for him to get through.

The doors were already closing when he finally slipped through, a bullet missing him by an inch. In the safety of the elevator, you let out a breath and calmed.

There was silence, besides the breaths blowing through the space of the elevator. Whiskey looked at you as you raised your hand, looking at the clock face of your watch.

"You never called," he accused, looking at you with a raised brow and a look on his face that wasn't mad, but not entirely giddy with joy.

You shrugged, still not looking at him. "Been busy."

He chuckled, "With what?"

You missed his voice, that smooth Southern lilt that could lull you to gentle sleep or drive you insane with desire. With the adrenaline pumping through your veins, it was the latter.

"My job," you laughed, pressing a button on your watch as a hologram arose from it, circling the Queensmaiden symbol.

You turned to him, granting him a smile. You were more happy to see him than you should have been. "Did you miss me, lover boy?" you winked. "Tequila says you did."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You've been talking with Tequila?"

You smirked, nodding. "Of course," you told him, swiping the hologram aside to pull up some files off of some computer. "He's with Opal. They hooked up after the convention."

He sighed longingly, leaning on one leg as he set his gun back in his holster. "And to think," he breathed. "That coulda been us."

You snorted, "Don't get ahead of yourself, cowboy."

You tapped away from the files you'd been scrolling through, pulling up some surveillance footage. There was a hall through the camera, one full of guards with more numbers than the ones downstairs.

"Aww," you muttered. "We have a whole welcome party waiting for us." You turned him with a grin, swiping away the hologram and returning your hand to your side.

He reached behind his back as he smiled. "How sweet."

Whipping his jacket to the side, he grabbed some sort of fancy handle, intricately detailed with gold and silver. You nodded, impressed as you looked at its design.

"Nice," you commented. You opened your jacket, sliding it off your arms and reaching behind you to grab a hold of a handle of your own. It was blue, a shining color that sparkled as Whiskey's eyes scanned over it.

The elevator dinged and you stood beside Whiskey with a smile. The sea of guards on the other side watched you with stern faces, ready for the inevitable fight as they stared down two people who didn't stand a chance.

"Well, howdy, fellas," Whiskey greeted, tipping his hat.

You tilted your head and smiled, "How do you do?" You pressed a small button on one end and the handle began to unfold, expanding into a dagger on one end of a strong rope and a heavy hammer-like weapon on the other.

At the sight of the weapon, the fight began. With drawn guns and angry glares, the guards were quick with their guns as they cornered you in the elevator.

The handle in Whiskey's hand extended into a lasso—a silver whip that he swung out into the small army. It wrapped around the gun of the man in the front of the group, holding on tight as he pulled it taut and sent him falling forward.

You took your rope dart and began swinging it, smacking a bullet out of the way as it hurdled toward you. You threw it and Whiskey watched, amazed, as it wrapped around some man's neck and the dagger embedded itself into his chest. You pulled it, and he spun around to the floor.

The other guards were distracted long enough for the both of you to retreat from the elevator and into the fight.

Ropes flew through the air, daggers pierced bodies, and electricity had them writhing in pain before dropping to the floor. Whiskey's rope wrapped around someone's neck as he pulled him in, punching him hard in the face and sending him to the floor.

He heard a pained yell behind him and turned to see some man falling to the floor with a blue knife in his back. You stepped forward, setting your foot on his back and pulling the dart out.

"That's cool," he said, admiring your weapon of choice.

You smiled, pulling a gun and shooting someone coming toward Whiskey from behind. "Thank you. It's made of sapphires."

"Oo," he smiled. "Duck." You did so, dipping down as he raised his own gun and shot another man aiming his gun at you.

He looked down at you, knelt on one knee in front of him, tightly gripping your rope tight. "What an interestin' position we've found ourselves in."

You scoffed, standing up too close to him. "Keep it in your pants, hotshot."

You turned on your heel, returning to the fight as the few guards who were left brandished their guns. The last of them were easy to take out, and you did. As you swung your rope at the last man standing you noticed a different rope do the same.

You turned your head to Whiskey as he smiled at you. "Looks like we made a connection."

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up." You grabbed your gun and raised it to the man, shooting him instantly and collecting your rope as he dropped to the floor.

You walked over to the body, bending down and wiping the blood from your blade before stepping over him and toward the grand office door down the hall. Whiskey was more than happy to follow you.

You take a card you'd snatched from one of the bodies and swipe it along the reader, the door sliding open to allow you inside. As soon as you crossed the threshold, you heard the sound of a gun click.

You both looked up at Mr. Sullivan pointing his gun at you, dressed in an expensive suit with hands that trembled only slightly with fear for his life. You sighed, looking back at him. "Well, you caught us," you said as you stood beside Whiskey. "Props."

"Question is…" Whiskey added, "who're you gonna shoot?"

Sullivan tilted his head. There was no amusement in his face, but he gave you a look that said "really?". He motioned between the two of you and raised a brow. "You've got some rope. I've got a gun. I can shoot both of you."

Whiskey nodded, agreeing with his logic. "Well, you caught us fair and square," he sighed dramatically. Then he smirked, "Pull the trigger."

Sullivan didn't like how calm you both were. He was holding a gun to your face, and you were telling him to pull the trigger. Why the fuck would you tell him to pull the trigger if he had the upper hand? Were you suicidal?

"There's just one little thing," you spoke, shifting on your side. "You brought a gun to a knife fight."

Sullivan missed the way you passed your rope dart to Whiskey, who took it with too much excitement and, with a few mighty swings, threw it at the unsuspecting boss. The rope wrapped around his neck, and he dropped his gun to grab it and force it away to no avail. The dagger came back around after its loops, and he had no time to process as it lodged in his chest.

Whiskey smirked before he pulled roughly on the rope, spinning the man round, unwinding him like a yo-yo. The dagger yanked from his chest and Whiskey caught it as it flung back. Mr. Sullivan dropped to the floor, choking on his own blood as it spilled from his wound.

You walked past him dismissively, stepping up to his desk and grabbing your drive. Sticking it in the computer, you began typing away as Whiskey admired your weapon.

"I needa get me one of these," he muttered.

"I've got plenty. I'll send you one," you suggested.

He looked up at you, his eyes glittering, "Really?"

"Why not?" You shrugged your shoulders. Leaned over the desk, you watched the loading bar slowly climb toward completion before you were able to withdraw the drive and stuff it in your pocket.

You grabbed a butterscotch from the bowl on his desk, helping yourself as you walked back over to Whiskey. You smiled at him and tilted your head. You hold your hand out to him, making a grabby motion.

"Can I have it back?" you asked.

He tilted his head up, smiling down at you with narrowed eyes. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" you questioned.

"Can I get something in return?"

You sighed and thought for a moment, continuing to smile at him as you returned your hand to your hip. "What do you want?"

He shrugged, pretending to think. "How about a pretty please?" he smirked, his eyes dark and inviting, his voice quiet and deep.

"You want me to say please?" you asked, standing too close as your eyes flickered to his lips for half a second.

Again, he shrugged, but his smile became more wicked. "A kiss on the cheek might suffice."

You chuckled deeply, standing on your toes as you leaned forward. You got closer, closer, and closer still until your breaths mingled. You shifted to his cheek, turning your head just enough so your lips nearly brushed his ear as you whispered to him. "You're going to have to try harder than that."

You took the rope from his grip and backed away from him, watching him watch you with lidded eyes. You backed toward a private elevator in the office, pressing a button on the wall as the doors opened. You looked toward the door you came in and smiled. "You've got company."

You stepped back into the elevator and the doors closed, shielding you from him as you waved.

Whiskey stood in the office, looking toward the door that was currently being beaten against by his visitors. Smiling and shaking his head, he laughed heartily. "Clever."

You stepped out onto the roof, taking the drive from your pocket and tossing it to the ground. You pulled your gun and shot at it once, destroying it entirely as you made your way to the jet waiting for you. You boarded it, climbing into the pilot's seat as you started it up and left.

As you flew away from the building, you glanced back at it and smiled when you saw a figure climbing up the side of the building to the roof. He looked over his shoulder at you, and you could make out the distinct sight of him waving his arm at you. Not to grab your attention, but to say hello.

You saluted him before departing for a second time.

Your next encounter with him was not so far in the future. In fact, it was later on that night.

You walked into the large house you were staying in after a long day out. Between your mission, your flights, and everything in between, you were about ready to pour yourself a drink and go to sleep early.

The house was owned by the Queensmaiden, a mission house for meetings or get-togethers or just a place for agents to crash after long days on missions. Since your trip today was done alone, your partner back at home serving as your tech that day, you were in this big empty home alone. You didn't mind much, it was a lot of space, you could turn on the stereo as loud as you want, there was plenty of expensive booze. You were all set for the night.

As you walked through the loud house, which was filled with the classic voice of Frank Sinatra, you made your way to the open bar. As you poured yourself a drink, you glanced at the label with a smile. Statesman whiskey.

"So you did like it."

You didn't turn around, but you smiled at the smooth tone of your cowboy behind you. You grabbed a second glass and poured him his own. You set the bottle down, picked up both cups, and walked over to him with a smile.

"It's alright."

You stopped in front of him, making a bad habit of standing too close. Passing the glass over, you looked up at him through your lashes. He wasn't wearing his hat, giving you a view of his tousled hair. Likewise, he was stripped down to a white button down with the sleeves rolled up, his shirt still tucked in his pants fastened with his belt. His tie was gone, and the top buttons of the shirt were undone. He saluted his glass to you, and you gladly clinked them together in a quiet cheer before taking a sip, your eyes never parting from his.

"You know," he sighed. "This disappearing act of yours is starting to get a little old, Diamond."

You shrugged a shoulder, "I can spice it up if you want."

He simply shook his head, "I think I'd rather pick a different act. It would put us in much different positions."

"Oh?" You smiled, reluctantly turning on your heel and stepping away from him. "What positions did you have in mind?"

You lounged on the couch, kicking off your shoes. You looked back at him with one hand on your glass and the other under your chin as you rested your head on the back of the couch.

He sighed once again, his whole body moving with him as he looked at you in that way that reminded you of a lovesick pup. He set his hands on his hips, leaning on the side as he contemplated.

"You never called."

His words from earlier pricked your heart in a special kind of way this time. You sighed and just shook your head, "No, I didn't."

The song playing through the speakers in the house faded out to welcome another. Sinatra's "I'm a Fool to Want You" was sharp in your mind.

You set your glass down and looked up at Whiskey again. You reached your hand out to him, wiggling your fingers in the hope that he'll hold your hand.

He did, and you smiled.

"I did miss you," you confessed.

That offered him some solace. "Honest?"

"Honest." He sighed, stepping closer. You sat up, settling on your knees as he still towered over you. He looked at you for a long time before suddenly smiling. He bent down, wrapping his arms around your body and surprising you as he hoisted you up, spinning you over the couch and setting you on your feet. You held onto him, laughing as he pulled you close to his chest. He slid his hand into your own, entwining your fingers as his other hand rested on the small of your back.

"Dance with me?" he asked.

You tilted your head, "Do I have a choice?"

He laughed and just shook his head. "No."

You laughed. He took a side step, swaying you in time with the gentle rock of the music. It was slow and steady, filled with too much emotion than should have been allowed for a couple who had only met once a few months prior. You rested your head on his chest, your eyes closed as you blew out a long breath.

His voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke, low and quiet. "How lucky am I to see a beauty like you in a place like this?" he smiled.

You chuckled, recalling those words from when you first met. "Am I still allowed to do whatever I want?" you asked, looking up at him.

He spun you out, twirling you before spinning you back in, your back pressing against his chest. He leaned down to your ear. "Never revoked the privilege."

You twisted your neck to see him, smiling at his face so close to yours. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his own as you considered it. For a moment, you considered it.

You swerved to hover your lips near his ear, "Catch me."

You stepped away from him, walking backwards as your eyes stayed glued to his. You watched him with the same dark, teasing eyes as you had used before. The naughty look on your face, the proximity at which you once stood, the tingling of your lips never grazing his but teasing him with the possibility of such a sacred union…the thought of never sealing that fate with you and leaving once again for another wild goose chase where he never knew if he would see you again due to the dangers of the lives you both lived. They were possibilities that made his heart ache in ways it shouldn't have.

He just shook his head, deciding then and there that he wouldn't let you have another swift get away, wouldn't let you slip through his fingers with nothing to remember you by but the ghost breaths against the shell of his ear where you exhaled your secrets. "Not this time."

He took a few long strides toward you, taking you in his arms and crashing his lips down upon yours. You gasped into his mouth, melting instantly into him as your legs turned to jelly. He held you close to him, supporting your neck with one large hand as he consumed you in a passionate embrace.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down and swaying gently as you finally kissed the cowboy you'd been craving for months. He bent down, wrapping his arms under you and lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. He held you up with strong arms, walking you back until he was pushing you up against a wall.

When he pulled from the kiss, heavy, hot breaths were exchanged between the two of you. His hands roamed your body, drinking you in desperately. His mouth pressed against your neck, his tongue darting out to lick along your thumping pulse. You moaned, feeling the heat between your legs igniting with a fire.

His name fell from your lips as he nibbled on your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pulled on his messy strands.

He rolled his hips into yours, pulling a shaky breath out of you. Your leg tightened around him, bringing him closer as you mirrored his own movement from before, drawing out your pleasure with grinding hips and breathless sighs. He groaned as one of his hands gripped your waist to stop you.

Whiskey unwrapped your legs from him as he set you back down on your feet. When he sank to his knees, it was with a maddening amount of eye contact that he didn’t dare break. His hands smoothed along your sides, rounding to the front to undo the clasp of your slacks. He moved torturously slow as he pulled the slacks down your legs, revealing more and more skin to him as he went along. Your eyes fluttered when you felt his lips on your thigh.

You stepped out of the pant legs when they finally pooled around your ankle. Whiskey leaned forward to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste the skin before taking it between his teeth in a gentle nibble. You stifled a moan at the feeling, watching his dark eyes drink you in.

When he finally fingered the waistband of your panties, he pulled them down in one swift tug to reveal yourself to him. He licked his lips and you bit down on your own. “Look at that,” he praised. “So pretty.” He looked up at you with a cocky smirk, holding the back of your leg up and setting it atop his shoulder.

He leaned forward and your lips parted so delicately when his tongue darted out to lick you. Your breath hitched, halting in your throat as his hot tongue delved between your folds. Like a fire, the warmth spread through your body as you melted into him. Your hips jerked, seeking his mouth.

His lips wrapped around your pussy, tasting you with an intoxicated moan. When he sucked on your clit, your breath trembled and a whimper managed to weave its way through your vocal chords. His talented tongue glided through your folds before retreating as he pulled back from you to look at your pretty face.

You looked down, whining lightly at him as he stared at you with eyes that glittered with praise. His hand trickled up your side before dipping between your thighs and into your warmth. “You taste sweet as sugar, sugar.”

You had to fight through your eye roll as you enjoyed the sweet stretch of his thick fingers inside of you. “You have very skilled hands,” you nearly stuttered. Your eyes fluttered as he curled the length of his fingers.

“Why, thank you, sweetheart,” he dipped his head as though he was still wearing his hat. He pushed his fingers in deeper, adding a third as he coaxed you toward a sweeter release. He was a lot gentler than you expected, treating you like a fragile lover. It warmed your heart, so used to the less patient lovers of one-night stands long since.

The sharp dig of dull nails into the flesh of your thigh contrasted with the prior feathery fingertips on your sides. You were breathless and needy, aching for him all over. With those same fingers still buried deep inside of you, he leaned forward and sucked on your throbbing clit.

The shocks of pleasure creeping up on you sparked along your skin—your fingertips, the very ends of prickly flesh. Your fingers gripped and tangled in his hair. Your hips stuttered forward, searching for his mouth in a desperate attempt to push yourself over the edge.

But he was doing it first, crooking his fingers in the perfect way here and digging the tip of his tongue into that sensitive bundle of nerves there as your pitch climbed higher and higher with the anticipation of a climbing buildup. The rubber band inside your belly snapped and your mouth dropped. What were supposed to be rises of whiny moans were just a symphony of shuddering breaths, arrhythmic and impassioned.

He was right there to ease you through the shocks, encouraging you with his tongue back down to the tingles that covered the expanse of exposed skin.

When he pulled away, his lips were still occupied with your body, pressing hungry kisses to your thighs and lower belly with a fervor that made you tug harder on his curling locks of hair.

He looked up at you with kiss-swollen lips, smiling like an idiot in love—no, not love. This was just lust. That's all. That was it. It didn't matter if that spark in your chest only pumped through your veins when he looked at you like that.

You smiled at him, breathless. "Take me to bed."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

He tightened his grip around your waist before he stood, tossing you over his shoulder and holding you with one arm. You yelped, dissolving into giggles as he carried you through the house and through the winding halls toward the bedroom.

On the way, you smiled as you passed by his hat sitting on a table along the walls. Reaching you, you had just barely grabbed it with your fingertips as you held it to your head.

He pushed the door open to reveal the room: a king-sized bed with golden sheets, a mini chandelier reflecting diamonds all over the expensive room, paintings and frames and shelves probably hiding more tools and gadgets than there are choices of liquor behind the bar in the main room.

He kicked the door closed behind him, admiring the room with a hum and a nod of his head before plopping you down onto the bed. You fell with a bounce, chuckling again as you held onto his hat. He smiled, watching you put it on your head and look at him with eyes that expressed far too much to be an innocent one-night stand.

Part of Whiskey hoped it was more than an innocent one-night stand.

So did you.

But if it was, he would rock your world. He stared down at you with darkened eyes, undoing his shirt and tossing it somewhere in the room. The rest of his clothes followed after until he was in nothing but his boxers. Then he did the same to you, except he didn't stop until you were bare before him, left in nothing but your expensive necklace and earrings to admire the way you still looked like the perfect reflection of the woman of his dreams. He left the hat. You looked perfect in it.

"Not fair," you complained with a grin. "I'm stripped bare, and you're still dressed."

You leaned up on your elbows, sitting up until you were situated on your knees as you leaned forward. You smiled up at him, hooking your finger in the band of his boxers to pull him forward. "Your turn."

He set his hand on your cheeks and nearly melted at the way you leaned into his warm palm, your eyes fluttering shut as a gentle breath blew through you. He shifted his hand so he pinched your chin, lifting your face to see better. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, sweetness."

"Oh, yeah?" you chuckled. "Prove it to me."

He leaned forward, bending down to your face and connecting your lips again. He licked into your mouth, tasting the remnants of whiskey on your tongue. You moaned, melting against him. You pulled away, your hand still hooked around his waistband. You tugged them down, ridding him of the meaningless article of clothing to reveal him to you.

Fuck, he was beautiful. Flushed tipped, thick, and throbbing. As you reached out and stroked your fist over his cock, he twitched in your hand and groaned. You bit your lip, leaning forward and giggling when his hat on your head bumped into his stomach.

He chuckled at you, tilting it up so he could see your face and you could move. You smiled at him before going back to his leaking slit. You leaned forward and licked him, flattening your tongue along his head to taste him. You moaned again, leaning forward to take a longer lick along the length of him. He breathed a curse under his breath, watching you lick him up as you worked your tongue along him.

His hand came to rest on the back of your neck, easing you forward without actually moving you. Your lips wrapped around him, slick and warm as you took him in your mouth. His head tilted back before he looked down again to see you, not wanting to miss a second of it.

"Fuck," he breathed, hips twitching. You smiled around him, working him deeper in your throat with the intent of taking the whole of him. "Fuck, you're amazing. How did I get so lucky?"

You whimpered, laving your tongue along the underside of his cock where the vein was throbbing. "You like that?" he asked. "You like when I tell you how fuckin' perfect you are?"

You nodded as best you could, wrapping a hand on the back of his thigh to pull him in some more. "You're so goddamn perfect," he promised. "Makin' me feel special like this. D'you feel special?"

You just moaned your response, suckling around him and pulling a rough moan from him. After a moment, he pulled you away, setting his hands on either side of your neck as he caught his breath. He looked down at you, smiling and pulling you forward to kiss you again. The way he kissed you this time was so much different than before, so much softer, slower, with more meaning behind it than there ever should have been. Fuck, you were drunk on it, craving his lips more and more with an impossible desperation, even while he was still kissing you.

He eased forward, moving you until you were laying on your back. His lips slipped on and off of yours, down to your neck as he buried his face there and suckled on the skin.

He settled himself between your legs, grinding down on you as you moaned into each other's mouths. You grasped his bicep, squeezing it tight as you stopped him. "Wait," you breathed.

He stopped immediately, looking down at you with a face etched in concern. "What? What's wrong?"

You smiled, "Wear the hat, ride the cowboy." Your hands flattened on his chest and you pushed him back with a huff, flipping him around so he lay on his back as you straddled him.

He smiled at you, setting his hands on your hips. "You scared me for a second there," he said, his thumbs stroking circles along your skin.

You hovered over him with shaky thighs. "Scared you weren't gonna get your cock wet tonight?" you chuckled.

He just shook his head, "Scared I hurt you."

Your breaths filled the rooms as your body slowed to a stop, staring at him. Your heart leapt and you allowed yourself, just for a moment, to succumb to its calling to him.

"You could never hurt me, Whiskey," you promised.

You only allowed him a moment to let it sink in before you were grabbing his cock in your warm palm, stroking him a couple times before guiding him to your soaked pussy. Sinking down on him, both your eyes shut as your breaths puffed into the air.

"Fuck," you moaned. You braced yourself on his shoulders, helping them guide you as you slowly rolled your hips atop his. His hands gripped your waist, blunt nails digging into skin and creating little crescent dents.

The sensations were amazing. His cock stroked along your velvet walls and sparked a desperate pleasure within you that had you forgetting about the little tingles of pain at adjusting to his length. You brought him deeper, your bodies connected indefinitely as you began your slow movements.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the blossom of pleasure deep within you. You leaned back, placing a hand on the hat to keep it there as you rolled your hips, faster and faster, chasing the euphoria you craved.

"Look at you," he groaned. "Fuckin' ridin' me like a true cowgirl."

"Lucky for you, huh?" you smirked, breaking off into a whimper as the blunt head of his cock brushed against a sweet spot inside you.

He nodded, "Lucky for me."

You rode him, and you rode him hard, ignoring the ache in your hips and your legs from the continuous motion, ignoring the breathlessness shocking your throat at all the air you were taking in, ignoring the pounding in your chest at the way he stared at you: lips kiss-swollen, eyes sparkling, hands gripping. It was so much, too much, you craved this man more than you'd ever craved anything before in your life.

"Whiskey," you moaned, stifled moans tearing from your throat as his name spilled from your lips. "Fuck, Whiskey, you feel so good."

He hummed. "Take what you need from me, sugar. Take what you want." You leaned forward, holding yourself up with your hands on his shoulders. You were desperate, fucking yourself on him like it was your last time. When his thumb brushed your clit, a guttural moan ripped at your throat and your hips jerked. "That's it, sweetness. That's it."

He was just as breathless as you, guiding your hips with one hand and circling your clit with the other. "Shit," you sighed. "More. Fuck, Whiskey, I'm almost there."

"C'mon, sugar," he urged you. "Cum for me, Diamond."

You didn't care to hold back, you couldn't. You came with a shout, dropping forward onto him and burying your face in his neck. You moaned into his neck, pitchy and breathless as you came apart on top of him. Your hand tangled in his hair, he held tightly to your hips.

Your cunt clenched around him, squeezing and spasming and bringing him to the edge as his release tumbled after yours. One of his hands flew to your hair, holding you there as his fingers carded through.

Your hips canted a couple more times, milking the last ounces of pleasure you could get before you fell against his chest. He held you as you both slowly floated down from your highs, falling into the other's embrace as you came to.

The stillness that followed was like something out of a dream. The air was heavy with the smell of sex, but light with the breaths blowing from the both of you. Every inch of your body tingled, your fingertips felt like pop rocks, your skin prickled with a mix of warm and cold. Whiskey's heartbeat resounded through you, grounding you as you traced your fingers over his chest.

You could feel his hand stroking through your hair, rubbing gently into the back of your neck and making you feel like putty. You could stay like this forever, resting atop him and feeling the life he breathed into you from his chest.

"Jack."

You took in a small breath, leaning up and shifting yourself so he slipped out of you. You sighed a little before looking up at him with a lovesick grin. "Hmm?"

He looked at you, smiling right back as he chuckled lightly. "My real name is Jack."

You smiled and shook your head, burying your face in his chest as you chuckled. "Jack Daniels?" you joked, recalling the name brand Whiskey.

The way he chuckled made you look up at him. "Yes, actually."

You looked at him, smiling so wide your face hurt. "Seriously? Your name is Jack Daniels?"

He nodded, "Yep."

You shook your head, laying your head back on his chest and reaching clumsily over to grab his hat, which had fallen off your head. You set it over your face, shielding you from the light shining from the chandelier.

You sighed slowly, tracing patterns into his skin. You whispered your own name to him, glancing up at him and then back out to the little lion figurine on the small stand against the wall on the other side of the room. It was bronze, standing proudly with one paw perched up and his mouth dropped in a mighty roar.

Whiskey smiled, stroking his hand down your back and then back up to your hair. "You've got a beautiful name, sugar."

You smiled slowly. "Sweet as sugar?"

He nodded, "Sweeter."

You leaned up, your face inches apart. "You're gonna get a cavity if you have any more of me," you kissed his lips, long and slow and wanting more.

"The sacrifices we make…" he replied, chuckling deep in his chest as he kissed you again.

Pedro Pascal taglist: ... Tag yourself here...

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #kingsmen golden circle #kingsmen #whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x reader smut #agent whiskey fanfic #agent whiskey fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #kingsmen fanfic #kingsmen fanfiction #smut #reader insert #female reader

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thatredheadwriter · 2 years

Text

Movie Day

jack daniels x reader

Here’s some more smut. This is the third fic I’ve finished in two days and I feel so powerful! Please enjoy dom!Agent Whiskey with edging AND overstim. This one’s just over 1.2k words.

This is an NSFW oneshot for female reader with Jack Daniels (aka Agent Whiskey) of Kingsman 2: The Golden Circle. This work contains smut and mature language and should not be read by those under 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

Content Includes (but is not limited to):

dom!Jack

sub!reader

Pet names (kitten, sweetheart, darling)

Fingering (f receiving)

Teasing

threats of ambiguous punishment

Edging

Oral (f receiving)

Overstim

Reader protests at overstimulation once, but does not safeword. I want to make it clear that this is an established couple with safewords in place.

Sub drop

After care bath

Please read at your own discretion and remember to consume your fanfiction responsibly.

“Ja-ack!” you whined, squirming in your seat.

The cowboy pinned to the couch halfway underneath you just chuckled darkly in your ear, “Hush, kitten. I can’t hear the movie.”

As if he’s even watching the stupid action-comedy the two of you had finally agreed upon just an hour earlier. Despite the way his chocolate brown eyes stayed glued to the TV, you knew he was focused on his hand inside your shorts–the one that’s been teasing you for almost exactly nineteen and a half minutes. His thick ring and middle fingers curled in and out of your sex as his thumb rubbed lazy circles around your clit.

When his fingers scraped that spot inside you there was no way to hold back the whimper that bubbled up, and Jack froze in retaliation. “I told you to be quiet,” he growled lowly, mustache tickling your ear, “I wouldn’t want to have to stop the movie just to punish this pretty pussy.”

You turn so suddenly to look at him that you nearly headbut him. The desperate look in your eyes has him softening instantly, the hand not buried in your cunt came up to stroke your cheek.

“If you can make it to the end of the movie, I promise you’ll enjoy the reward. Think you can do that, kitten?”

Your head is so cloudy you could only manage a pitiful nod, and Jack placed a kiss to your forehead before redirecting both of you to look back at the screen.

It was torture. Absolute hell.

Before you left Statesman to retire with Jack, you’d been through agent training, even though you were just a lab tech. You knew what it was like to be electrocuted, waterboarded, and shot. But right now, you’d relive every simulated extreme duress situation at once if it meant you could cum. The desperation was overwhelming.

It wasn’t just the physical need to cum, though. It was the man underneath you, the one whose hand expertly brought you right to the edge before easing back seven times–never once stopping. Jack was warm underneath you, strong and full of life. His broad shoulders cradled you perfectly as you became lost to the pleasure, chest rising and falling underneath you keeping you grounded in the moment, along with the faint scent of his cologne and the bourbon that always followed him.

You needed Jack. You needed him to make you cum.

Jack was surprised when you didn’t immediately react when the sunset on-screen faded to black, credits flashing across the screen. You didn’t respond until his hand stopped moving, for the first time in over an hour. Immediately your hips started grinding down, seeking the familiar friction he’d been so giving with, a pitiful whine slipping past your lips as you turned to look up at him.

“You did it, kitten,” he purred, pulling his soaked hand from your shorts. You watched in fascination as he sucked each of his fingers clean before pulling you into a kiss that made your head spin.

“Please-” you start to beg, but Jack cuts you off with another kiss.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You’re not sure how you end up back in bed, but you don’t care. Not when Jack has made camp between your thighs, eating like it’s his last meal. It’s a rare treat that Jack pleasures you like this without restraining you in some way first, and your hands are tangled in the sheets as you try to keep from doing anything that might get him to stop.

“Come on, kitten,” he raises his head just a few inches to speak just as he slips two of his thick fingers inside, sending you arching of the bed. “I can feel you. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

And you do. You’ve never been able to say no to that sweet honeyed voice, thick with a southern drawl that permeated every pore of your body.

It’s like floating, every nerve of your body in perfect sync as pleasure washes over you in wave after wave. But you’re slammed back down to earth as Jack’s nose bumps your clit at the same time he slides another finger into you.

“Too much!” you whine, and try to pull yourself up the bed to get away. But his arm around your thigh hold tight, not letting up even as your legs tense around his head.

“Give me one more, darling. I know you’ve got it,” he growls, fingers fucking into you even harder.

Any other time you’d be self conscious about the noises you’re making, or the wet sound of Jack’s fingers plunging into your pussy. But your brain melted away long ago, and Jack wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Kitten, you sound just as sweet as you taste,” he groans, “Come on now, soak me sweet heart.”

Jack finally releases your leg and fumbles wildly for your hand, yanking it out of the sheets and pulling it onto his head. Your fingers instantly tangle into his hair and tug hard as a sob rips through you and the world falls away around you.

The next thing your body knows is the tender press of Jack’s lips up the skin between your breast, the tickle of his mustache encouraging your heavy eyes open.

“There’s my girl,” he grins, relief evident in his voice. You just hum in response. “That was a big one, huh?”

He settles in next to you as you nod, curling into his side.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he urges, turning your body to face him. “I need you to come back to me.”

“I jus’ wanna sleep,” you mumble, brow furrowing in frustration as Jack moves you again.

“I know, but I need to clean you up first, darlin’. Gonna let me take you to the bath?”

Jack doesn’t wait for your response, instead leaving the bed for the ensuite where you hear water running and the smell of rose and bergamot follows shortly after. Minutes later you’re guided into the bathroom and sinking into a hot bath.

Your sweet cowboy never leaves your side the entire time. Jack didn’t care that his t-shirt got soaked as he washed you, whispering little praises in your ear and pressing kisses to the glistening skin of your shoulder.

“I love you,” you smile tiredly as Jack wraps you in a big fluffy white towel.

“I love you too, kitten,” he murmurs into the top of your head. “You had me worried there for a minute. I thought I’d pushed you too far.”

“Never, Jack. It was perfect, thank you. I’m just sorry I didn’t take care of you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sweetheart, there are very few things in this world that make me truly happy, but seeing you lose yourself like that…” he trails off, clicking his tongue, “That’s just something else.”

“Come on, cowboy,” you tug him towards the bedroom and manage to strip him of his shirt. “I still can’t feel my legs and I have no clue what that movie was about.”

Jack barks a laugh and lets you pull him into bed. Movie days are officially a favorite, for both of you.

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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 2 years

Text

AGENT WHISKEY MASTERLIST

ONESHOTS

Jealous Hearts 18+

Whiskey's jealousy puts your mission in jeopardy.

As Long As You Need Me

Comfort with Whiskey after a tough mission.

WORKS FROM CHALLENGES/COLLECTIONS

Winter Wonderland (from 12 Days Of Christmas Songs series)

An undercover mission that requires staying in a quaint little cabin, pretending to be married to your partner that you're secretly in love with. What could go wrong?

Ocean Blue, Eyes Of Green 18+ (from Seven Nights Of Sin - Series Two)

There's no doubt in his mind that your his just as much as he is yours. He just likes to prove it every chance he gets.

Violence, Be My Therapy 18+ (from Enemies To Lovers Week)

The therapy doesn't work. What works is hating you and hunting you down - fist swiping across the swell of your cheek and your foot nearly caving in his ribs before you slip away into the night and the vicious cycle starts again.

#agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey fanfic #kingsman fanfiction #kingsman imagine

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dyns33 · 2 years

Text

Flufftober 20 - Kingsman

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniel x reader

Halloween parties were more or less normal parties for the Kingsman agents. After all, this holiday was not really important for English people, and even less for secret agents who took their job very seriously. It had changed a bit since Eggsy had arrived, some agents accompanied him for a few drinks at the pub, but nothing more.

Halloween parties were very different for the Stateman agents.

Because this holiday was very important to Americans, who liked to do things big.

When they invited their new European friends, it was at first a kind of joke. They didn't think they would accept. But Eggsy insisted that they go, saying that it would be good for the agreement and the collaboration between the two agencies.

And of course, this would be an opportunity to relax.

Merlin and Harry weren't really convinced, but Y/N agreed that it could be fun. It would also be a way to study the workings of the Stateman, just in case. This was the argument that convinced everyone.

They all arrive in their work suits, and all eyes turn to them. Everyone else was in disguise, the room filled with vampires, ghosts, and other supposedly scary creatures, staring at them as if they were the monsters.

"...You didn't tell us we had to pick disguises, Eggsy." Merlin muttered, leaning towards the young agent.

"Well, it's Halloween, man. That's kind of the idea."

"But you're not disguised either."

"It's for kids. I came to drink, and if asked, I'll say that you forbade me to put on a ridiculous disguise. Or that I'm one of the Men in Black. I just have to find sunglasses."

After that, he went for the bar, leaving them alone. Sighing, Merlin went to join Champagne, to try to have a little interesting conversation, while Harry found a corner away from the crowd, in order to observe and check that his young friend wasn't doing anything stupid.

Y/N stood alone by the door, unsure of what to do.

As she decided to join Eggsy at the bar, a hand placed on her shoulder and a glass appeared in front of her eyes. A glass of whisky.

"Hello Jack." she said without looking at him, taking the glass he was offering to her.

"Sweetheart, you look gorgeous as always. A vision. But maybe a little too much 'work place' for tonight, right ?"

"I point out that you are dressed exactly as usual too."

"Wrong !" he was indignant, showing her his outfit. "I'm a sheriff. I have nice boots, an old gun and a nice star that proves my authority. Besides, I should arrest you for not wearing a disguise at a Halloween party."

"There." Y/N replied, taking his hat and putting it on her head. "I'm a cowgirl who decided to put on a fancy costume for a night out. Happy ?"

He didn't answer, staring at her with a funny look, before nodding and drinking his drink. An agent then called him and he excused himself to join some of his colleagues.

Not wishing to be alone, but not finding Eggsy, who must have been drunk somewhere, nor Harry, who must be trying to prevent Eggsy from causing a catastrophe, Y/N went to stand next to Merlin.

In addition to Champagne, Ginger and Tequila had joined the conversation, talking about politics, the cultural differences between their countries, and everything but work. Everything was going perfectly well, until the three American agents looked at her to ask her opinion on a subject, and they froze at the same time.

"Is... Is this Whiskey's hat ?" Ginger asked with wide eyes.

"Yes."

"Holy mother of God." Tequila hissed as if something horrible had just happened. "We talked about it, but I didn't think it would ever happen."

"Talked about what ?"

"Nothing, nothing at all."

When the two agencies were teaming up to solve a problem, Y/N and Whiskey were often working together. There had been some teasing about it, some even rumours, but in truth nothing had ever happened between them.

They got along well, they flirted a little for fun, and maybe Y/N wouldn't have been against more, but it wasn't very professional, besides being potentially dangerous.

She didn't think Jack was interested in that way anyway, between his complicated past and his need to flirt with absolutely everyone.

And now his colleagues were looking at her strangely, or rather looking at the hat she was wearing, as if it meant something very important.

After all, all Stateman agents had cowboy hats. Except maybe Ginger. Even with their disguises, they all wore it, even Champagne the Frankenstein or Tequila the ghost.

A sheet with two eye holes and a cowboy hat. He could also have chosen Cousin Itt.

"He gave you his hat, finally." sighed Ginger. "I mean, that's nice."

"Actually, I took it from him."

"Oh, dear, you don't take a Stateman's hat without their permission, or you lose your fingers, and I see you still have yours. So he gave it to you."

After saying that, the director of the Stateman gave her a wink, accompanied by a small smile.

Merlin hadn't said anything, just looking at her with his nervous gaze, shaking his head to let her know that she might have to get back to agent Whisky soon.

Y/N found him on the balcony, finishing his drink and watching Harry, who was trying to stop Eggsy from undressing to dive into the hotel pool.

"You English, pretending to be super classy, but after two beers, showing true face."

"A friendly face that inspires confidence ?"

"Yeah. Are you having fun, sweetheart ?"

"It depends. Some look at my head like I just accepted a marriage proposal."

"Your head ? Oh, right." he said, turning around and rediscovering his hat. "I didn't think you were going to keep wearing it. Don't mind the others, they're stupid."

"Does it mean anything special when a Stateman gives someone his hat ?"

"Not at all."

"Yet you made a weird face too when I put it on." she remarked, staring at him straight in the eye.

"You surprised me. It looks good on you. And... Yeah, okay, I like you wearing my hat, it's out. My hat on you, it's... It's nice. "

Not knowing what to say, Y/N said nothing. If she reacted badly, it could harm their future collaboration, and their relationship.

Their friendship, of course. Nothing more.

"I... I can take it back, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"No !" she said too quickly, without thinking, putting her hand on the hat. "I mean… That's my disguise tonight. I'm Agent Whiskey. I'll be ridiculous without it."

"I thought you were a cowgirl ?"

"I said that, but because I'm on an undercover mission, sweetheart."

Her attempt to mimic his accent and his small smile made him laugh. But he didn't seem to forget what she had just done, pointing his finger at her head.

"You can keep it, if you want."

"Damn, don't tell me it's really like a wedding ring."

"No. Why are you... Hey ! Leave ! Private conversation !"

Turning around, Y/N saw several agents of the Stateman, and Merlin, who had approached to listen. They ran around laughing and telling them they had to stop being stupid. Tequila added that he had won the bet.

"The bet ?"

"Ignore them, sweetheart, I told you, they're stupid."

"Yes."

"Hmm."

"Yes, I want to keep the hat."

"Oh. Nice. Very nice." he repeated, waddling nervously, before taking her hand to kiss it and ask her if she wanted to dance.

Maybe future Halloween parties still wouldn't be special for the Kingsman.

But they would be for Y/N and Jack.

#kingsmen golden circle #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey fanfic #flufftober 2022

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geliditramonti · 2 years

Text

Fallin' (part two)

Pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) xf!Reader

Summary: You miraculously survived the fall from the roof and wake up in the Statesman’s medical room.

Warnings: none, fluff

[Part 1]

Your eyes barely open, two very thin cracks looking around as you try to figure out where you are. The head hurts like hell and in this confusion you think there's some voices coming from nearby, maybe from an adjacent room. What the...you can't figure out what they're saying and neither if they're talking to you or not. You don't even know if they're real or a figment of your imagination. Maybe you're dead.

This neon light is really disturbing and your eyes are burning. You try to move a little the fingers of your right hand that feels so numb, on these white sheets that cover you up to half a torso. This slight humming in your ears it's drilling into the brain, but it seems to be decrease more and more as you try to remember what happened and why you're here. The monitor that controls your heart rate is beeping at every beat as you look around, it takes you a few minutes to recognize the Statesman's medical room. Your tired look falls on the bed next to yours on a large oxygen tank, on a desk on which there's a computer on and then is captured by the only note of color in the room: a bouquet of flowers, now a little wilted, placed in a glass vase resting on the bedside table next to you. They look like wildflowers...it's a shame you couldn't smell them as soon as they were picked up, they probably used to smell very good. Seeing them makes a strange sensation grow inside of you, something you can't explain. Something you can feel right down your throat. What happened?

"Agent Brandy?"

You don't recognize this voice.

"Oh my God. Brandy? Can you hear me?"

You turn your head a few inches and look at a woman in a white lab coat approach your bed. Her skin has the color of caramel, her hair is cut into a very short bob and she looks at you from behind a pair of black frame glasses, smiling incredulously in front of what she's seeing. She comes even closer to you and takes your hand, smiling softly almost to hold back some tears.

"How are you feeling? You know where you are?"

As you nod quietly she keeps softly smiling.

"Hi, Ginger."

Ginger's been taking care of you since day one here at the Statesman. She's always been the only woman in the agency and ever since you were recruited she's treated you like a little sister, taking you under her wing. For your part, you were always ready to draw your guns on the nose of some passing prick who dared to make petty comments about her, putting them back in their places.

"You scared us, you know that?"

You don't know what to say, remaining silent. Just feel so confused. Ginger takes a stool and brings it to the bed, sitting right next to it.

"Do you recall what happened that day?"

"What day?"

"The day you had...the accident."

She looks you in the eye and clears her throat.

"You...fell off the roof of a building during the mission that was assigned to you and Agent Whiskey, and-"

"Jack."

His name comes out of your lips like a sigh and you feel something tighten your chest as her eyes soften.

"How is he? He's okay, right?"

Ginger smiles sweetly while her hand caresses yours.

"He's fine. He got away with a bad wound to his shoulder and some bruising. You instead had a tough time, huh?"

His look.

As you fall.

"Is he...is he in here?"

Ginger's eyes change and for a few moments you can feel her hesitation. It's like she's looking for the right words, like she's...afraid to hurt you.

"Agent Whiskey retired from his duties as Statesman agent the day after it happened."

Something hits you right in the chest.

"...what?"

You just can't believe it.

"He gave us no explanation. Within two days we'd lost the best and the most promising agents in our team."

You don't understand. Why would he do that? He was your team leader, Champagne's right-hand man...why would an agent of his caliber decide to do something like that? Your brain is struggling to process all this informations as you realize that you'll never see him again. All you want to do is just go back to sleep in the hope of never waking up again.

You feel lost.

"I know that you feel confused and scared right now...and I know how close you were to Agent Whiskey, but...it's not the time to give up. You must recover, our war is not over yet."

As Ginger speaks, your gaze hangs in the void towards your motionless feet under the covers. You don't know why you feel like this, you should be happy to be alive. But this news, the fact that Jack left...is it possible that he did it because you let him down so much? Whiskey had never failed a single mission in his entire career and the last one was a failure because of you. You didn't have his back like he asked. He had faith in you. If you'd been good enough he wouldn't have been unarmed and hurt, if you hadn't been scared maybe you wouldn't have lost your focus and-

"Brandy."

Ginger always understood you without talking.

"Jack came back here every day. He sat next to you and stayed here for hours hoping that you would wake up. He brought you fresh flowers every morning and he happened to fall asleep here, on the stool or on the next bed."

Words get stuck in your throat as you listen to her talk. Now you're even more confused and your heart starts to beat faster.

"But...he's only been here two or three times a week in the last month. I think seeing you like this was making him...suffer too much."

What?

"In the...last month? How long...how long have I been here?"

"You've been out for over six months. We've used our cryogenic storage system so that you don't completely lose your cognitive and physical abilities."

You must have heard wrong.

"Six...months?"

Ginger nods and you feel like you're dreaming, it can't be true. How many things have you missed?

"Are you ok, Brandy?"

"Yes, I'm...okay."

You can't stop your brain shredding, shredding, shredding thoughts and questions. Why did Jack come here every day? You're sure he feels guilty about what happened and thinks it was all his fault, putting all the responsibility on his shoulders. It must have been terrible for him.

In a split second you frown, closing your eyes like when you get overwhelmed by your regular migraine episodes. You squeeze your head with the hands while, like in a flashback, you clearly see his face as you’re falling down. His Stetson that flies away, his jacket dirty with blood, his silent scream as he reaches out to you.

"I need to see him." you say firmly, hardly moving your legs now dangling from the bed.

"Brandy, are you crazy? What do you think you're doing?"

You observe your bare feet for a few seconds, in silence and carefully, fully aware that your legs will collapse, that they won't hold the weight of your body after five months of inactivity...but with a little push of the arms you finally put your feet on the cold floor, continuing to hold on to the mattress so as not to risk falling as Ginger's hands promptly gird your hips, supporting part of your weight.

"Don't do this. You're in no condition to..."

"You can't stop me, Ginger. And you know it."

She looks you in the eye, a few inches from you. She knows she can't change your mind, anything she can tell you. You need to understand. You need to know.

* * * * * * *

You've never been to this part of the country before. The helicopter that Champagne made available to get you here landed not far away, in a wheat field in the middle of nowehere. When your feet touch the ground your legs tremble again and you can't say if it's because the effect of the serum that Ginger injected you just before leaving is disappearing or because, finally, you can see in the distance the ranch where Whiskey should be. The large wooden farmhouse stands in the middle of a wonderful golden field, the sun that's going down illuminates everything with a beautiful orange light and, for a few minutes, you remain motionless taking some deep breaths. When you finally find the courage to take the first step one follows the other, slowly approaching the house as your heart beats faster and faster. What will he say? What if he's not happy to see you? If he came here to stay away from everyone and you just...bother him? Fear is gripping your stomach. There's this absolute silence that amplifies your thoughts, you can only hear the sound of the wind blowing that moves the ears like some waves of an ocean. You've not reached the house yet when, from a distance, you can see a figure standing in the middle of the low grass. He's grooming a beautiful brown and white spotted horse, caressing it from time to time with calm and care as your heart is about to pop out of your chest. You find yourself holding your breath looking at his back, at that snow-white t-shirt and his hair...you don't know if you've ever seen him without his hat. You can't remember.

You wonder if you're doing the right thing.

"Good boy..."

Hearing his voice again hits you right in the stomach. You take another step forward and, finally, find the courage to let your voice out in a faint whisper that you hope is more audible than it seems.

"Agent Whiskey?"

All of a sudden he freezes. He doesn't turn, just a bit his head while he's waiting to hear more and convincing that no...that's not possible.

"Whiskey is dead." he answer in a deep, calm voice while starts brushing his horse again, without turning towards you even a second.

Your hands are shaking, you whisper his name between your lips without him hearing and you do it two, three times before being able to say it out loud.

"Jack."

He gets stuck again but only for a moment, his lips half open and his breath stumble before he turns and finally sees you. You look at each other in the eye for an indefinite time, something that seems like an eternity while his initially shocked dark eyes begin to shine inside yours.

"Brandy?"

"So it seems," you say in a smile "but call me by my name."

He drops the brush in his hand on the grass and then approaches you.

"What...how you feel? I thought you, you..." Jack stutters as his beautiful brown eyes roam your face, incredulous and amazed "...when did this happen? I clearly said to call me if..."

"I didn't give them time, I...had to see you."

Jack remains silent and keeps looking at you, his eyes are sweeter now and your heart is beating even faster.

"So, uh...it's true you've decided to retire." you say looking around, the sun caresses your skin and in the air there's a good smell of freshly cut lawn. He looks down, saying nothing.

"Jack, if it's because of what happened...I mean, you don't have to do that. It wasn't your fault."

"What? It was all my fault. I couldn't hold you, I fuckin' dropped you. You almost died because of me"

"You almost died too. You were wounded and unarmed but did everything you could to save me. You can't quit the job you were born to do. The Statesman needs you."

You get a little closer, a gust of wind brings the scent of his cologne to your nostrils.

"And...I need you."

Jack barely smiles, you're even closer now and his fingers gently touch your cheek, sighing.

"Seeing you in that bed every day, without knowin' if I'd ever see your eyes again was killin' me. I couldn't bear the thought of havin' failed that mission, of havin' done that to you and I just...didn't want to do that anymore. Not without you."

Your heart skips a beat.

"But now I'm here..."

"But now you're here."

Jack takes another small step towards you, now your bodies are really close.

"So why'd you come out here today?" he asks you with a low tone of voice as moves a lock of hair from your face. You almost miss your breath and can't answer while your eyes look into his.

"I wanted to see where those flowers on my nightstand had been picked" you answer a little embarrassed, making him smile a bit.

"Ginger told you that?"

You nod, seeing Jack getting stiff as he looks down and with a little cough clears his voice. You can't say anything else, observing his face in silence and trying to keep calm.

"I never thought I'd see you again." he tells you then, before looks up again straight in your eyes. "There's a thought that's been botherin' me all this time, and...it's somethin' that I just couldn't forgive myself for. I couldn't live with the regret that I didn't do somethin' I should have done a long time ago. Thought I'd never get a chance to do that."

"To do what?"

Your voice is shaking as his fingers grab your chin and lift up your mouth to his. When finally his lips lean on yours with such delicacy your legs tremble. His kiss is warm and slow, his lips are soft and delicate while you feel an electric discharge inside your body, like a defibrillator that's making you come back to life. Again. His moustache caresses your skin and smells just as good as you imagined and in a liberating gesture you threw your arms around his neck, kissing him more deeply as he embraced you and held you to himself. Maybe you're still in a coma and dreaming, or maybe you died in that bed and this is the paradise you chose...but when the kiss ends and Jack keeps holding you tight, claiming part of the weight of your body that starts to get tired, his look and smile make you realize that it's all true. You're holding each other in the middle of this beautiful field, the sun is going down and finally you feel like you're in the right place.

"You must be tired. Let's go inside, shall we?" he whispers on your lips.

You nod, smiling. He gives you another soft kiss on the lips and then takes you by the hand.

"I'll take care of you, sugar."

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey fanfic #agent whiskey #whiskey #agent whiskey fic #cowboy #kingsman fanfiction #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #the golden circle #kingsman the secret service #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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paisley-print · 2 years

Text

Rating: 18+

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader X Ezra

This is a sequel to the MIDNIGHT Series

Rated TV MA.

Heavy trigger warning. Infidelity, pregnancy, nausea, feeding tube.

Not: This is 17 pages besties. It is a beast of a chapter. Please reblog and or comment! I really appreciate it! IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED PLEASE FILL OUT MY TAG SHEET. Tag List Google Form

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Jack was sitting in his office, staring out the window at the mountains in the distance with an expressionless gaze. He had just gotten back from an extended Statesman trip that had left him bruised in several places and shaken from the time change. His right shoulder felt like a tentacled creature had taken hold of it and snaked its way around his back, its arms reaching to encompass his neck and squeeze a tight band around his forehead. His eyes felt like they could simply pop out of his skull at any moment.

He was getting too old to do trips like this, too slow in his draw, too oblivious to subtle sounds and sights. Why not leave it to the new recruits? They seemed more than eager to reenact their James Bond fantasies, traipsing across the globe with shiny guns and fancy suits. Jack was tired, and the near constant threat of death worried him more now than ever. The baby had made him reassess his values as of late, plus he had just gotten Emily back… he wasn’t about to leave her in this new world completely alone.

As if summoned by some telepathic force, Emily’s voice floated down from upstairs. The main bedroom was positioned over his office. The water of the shower had been running just moments before. Jack set aside the file he was holding and made his way up the stairs to the main bedroom of the house.

Emily was standing at the sink, the fog from her shower clinging to the mirrors and creating a cloud of steam that floated lazily out and into the rest of the room. Jack sat on the bed, watching his wife lean over the side of the counter in order to apply mascara with an expert-like precision. She had one towel wrapped around her torso and the other done up in her long brown hair.

The glow of the lights made him feel like gagging. He turned his head, looking down at the grey Persian carpet.

“I was wondering if you could help me zip this up?” Emily asked, bounding into the closet. When she emerged again, she had on a pair of whitewashed jeans and was holding a corset crop top up against her breasts.

She turned her back to him so he could pull the zipper of the garment.

“Where are you off to?” He asked, the sound of his own voice coming down on his head with the force of a well-swung baseball bat.

“Going out dancing with Anna and Ashley,” Emily responded.

His two nieces. She was the same age as they were. “I’m glad you are going out but-”

“But what?” Emily asked.

“I just got back. I thought we would spend a little time together, is all.”

“All I do is spend time in this fucking house, Jack, spend time with you. God forbid I try to live a little.” Emily said.

Jack drew in a slow breath, bringing a hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. He did not feel physically well enough to engage in a debate he knew he would never win.

“I need cash. Everything is super expensive nowadays.”

Jack sighed, reaching into the interior of his jacket pocket to pull out his wallet and hand it over to her. She pulled out various bills. He didn’t know how much, folded them, placed them in her own pocket and tossed the wallet on the bed.

“When will you be back?” Jack asked, pulling off his suit jacket with some effort.

“Whenever I get back,” Emily said, shrugging.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you, sweetheart?”

“I’ve said everything I’ve needed to say Jack, you’re just choosing not to listen.”

“I am doing everything in my power to help you. I don’t know what more you want from me.”

Jack knew what Emily was feeling, and he empathized with her to a certain point. Losing everything in the blink of an eye was a feeling he knew all too well, and he had to do it alone. Emily at least had family around, loved ones that could soften the blow. Still, she wasn’t happy. Every time Jack mentioned you or the baby, Emily would get visibly angry and take jabs at both you and him. She felt shut out of such an intimate part of his life and jealous because that was supposed to be her.

Jack had to put his foot down when it came to converting the spare bedroom into a nursery. If Emily had had it her way, it would stay a guest bedroom, and they would allot full custody to you so she would never have to see the bastard child at all. Jack understood that it felt like a betrayal.

To her, this situation stung with the same severity it would have had cheated and had his own love child. Ironically, that was how Jack had felt too at times. He did not regret what the two of you had, yet he did not want to disappoint her.

Still, he disappointed her every day in ways entirely out of his control. He could not go back in time and erase all the flings had clung onto for years as his only source of intimacy. All the women he had slept in a fruitless attempt to feel less alone. Even if spent most of those encounters pretending he was in the throes of passion with her, rather than some nameless hook up he had met at a bar.

He could not fix the ways in which time had impacted his body. The look of disgust that passed Emily’s face whenever she noticed a new flaw never ceased to dismantle every ounce of confidence he had. He knew that she hated his greying hair, facial wrinkles, and less than toned midsection.

The times they had attempted any sort of intimacy mostly ended in awkward disappointment. Jack would become too nervous to perform, doubting both his looks and her pleasure in the activity at all. Plus, he was too self-conscious to keep the pills he used to use around the house, in fear she could find them.

She never initiated, but rather begrudgingly obliged and laid underneath him, as still and emotionless as a doll. He would walk away from those encounters feeling entirely disgusted with himself. He never initiated anymore and the two of them had only successfully slept together just once, that first night, months ago.

Jack didn’t mind not having sex as long as it meant that Emily was happy. All he wanted, all he ever wanted, was for her to be happy. Lack of intimacy was a small price to pay for her satisfaction.

“It’s like you have this whole other life without me,” Emily confessed. “Like I am some concubine shut up in this house, whose only function in your life is to be your companion.”

Jack stayed silent, listening. “How do you suppose I fix this situation then?”

Emily turned to him, pausing. “I want a baby shower.”

Jack’s brown knit in confusion. He was not expecting that response.

Upon seeing his confused face, Emily continued. “So I can feel like I have a purpose in this family. It’s not just going to be your baby, it’s going to be our baby when it’s here with us.”

Jack was speechless. Emily’s newfound interest in caring for the baby pleased him, but he was unsure of how you would react. Emily was right… the child would technically have three parents as soon as it was born...

“We can invite your friends and family -” Emily began.

“But sugar,” Jack said, trending carefully. “I’m not sure ‘y/n’ would - I mean - I could ask her, but I doubt she would want to come to somethin’ like that.”

Emily visibly soured at your name. “It’s not necessary to invite her. It’s better we don’t.”

Jack reached up, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand in an attempt to soothe the tension. “Sugar I don’t-”

“She can throw her own baby shower if she’d like. I wouldn’t expect her to invite me, and I would certainly not be offended. It’s as if we had a surrogate. We wouldn’t invite them, would we?”

Jack felt a momentary rise of anger well within him, but it fizzled out as fast as it had sparked. He could see where she was coming from, but you were not a simple surrogate. He knew when he entered into this that navigating the marriage and the pregnancy would require a less than traditional approach. What was right and wrong were often clouded in grey… this was one of those times.

He wanted to afford his grieving wife a chance to feel a part of his family, her family, and yet he did not want to banish you to the sidelines anymore than he already had. It was an impossible situation - not helped along by the headache that made his brain feel stuffed with cotton.

“Fine,” Jack said, “we can talk about planning something soon.”

A smile grew on Emily’s face. She took up her purse from the bathroom counter, bound over to him, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you, I love you,” she smiled.

“I love you too, darlin’” Jack said, returning the smile.

You sat in the exam room of the OBGYN, checking your phone for the sixth time. Jack had to miss the last appointment because he was on one of his frequent work trips, and now he was nearing ten minutes late for this one. When you first started dating Jack, you enjoyed the mystery that surrounded his employment and the demands of the job… you had found it rather exciting. But now, almost four years on, Statesman had become the very bane of your existence. It would be so easy for you to go to the media and spill everything you knew, or be bought by a foreign government and give them intel as a spy… that thought was a rather nice one in fact, as it would be a giant fuck you to both Statesman and Jack. However, you knew you wouldn’t be able to, not without monumental repercussions.

You wouldn't be surprised if the NDA you signed held a clause that stated something along the lines of “if you hand over any of your knowledge of Statesman to the public, you will be terminated via a colt revolver welding sharpshooter in a cowboy hat.”

Plus, any dealing with foreign government would just make you and the baby a potential target. You didn’t feel like getting your toenails ripped out by some opposing secret agency, no matter how much you wanted to see Statesmen go down.

The door to the exam room burst open. Jack was wearing his usual work attire, wonderfully tailored suit, cowboy hat and glasses. Statesman did do one thing right at least, and that was uniforms.

“Hey” Jack said, slightly out of breath.

“You gonna take those things off or you plan on taking a meeting while you're here,” you half joked.

“Shit - sorry” Jack said under his breath, taking the glasses off, putting them in his right breast pocket, then going into his left and putting another pair on.

You raised your eyebrows at him.

Jack, seeing your face, responded “these are prescription.”

You laughed. “Since when does Jack Daniels wear glasses?”

Jack cleared his throat and re-centered his tie. "Since I got barred from flying and carrying until I agreed to wear these fuckin’ things.”

Your demeanor softened. You had nagged him about getting glasses very early on in your relationship but he never did, saying ‘everybody already thinks I’m your daddy, let’s not give em any more reason too.’

“They look good on you,” you said. "They make you look distinguished, like you could be running things down there.”

Jack huffed and shook his head, never one to be graceful when accepting compliments. Though, you could make out the corner of his lips pulling into the most subtle of smiles.

There was a knock on the door, then the ultrasound technician popped her head in. “Is dad here?” she asked.

You nodded your head towards Jack.

The tech peeked further around the door frame to see him and smiled once she did. “Wonderful!”

You knew the drill. You rolled up your t-shirt as the technician turned the ultrasound machine on, spread the freezing gel over your stomach then turned off the lights to the room. As soon as she touched the probe to your stomach the machine whirled to life, displaying black and white images of your womb.

You never quite got used to it. At a very base level, it was horrifying…. but also entertaining. It took a moment, but the tech was able to get a clear picture of the baby. Its round head and small nose were clearly visible on the screen.

You felt a fluttering in your stomach that was matched by the baby kicking up its legs, then arms in quick succession.

The tech laughed. “Someone is awake.”

You laughed as well. “Yeah, I felt that one. She’s been moving around a lot today, actually.”

Jack leaned forward in his chair. “That’s normal, right?”

The tech nodded. “Yep, that’s very normal. All the wiggling around means the baby is getting stronger. In the later weeks you can actually see the baby pushing around in your belly if you're sitting or laying down.”

“Like the movie Alien,” you laughed.

The tech snorted, “yeah, a lot of moms say that.”

You took a glance at Jack, who was on the literal edge of his seat, eyes fixed solely on the monitor like there was not a single other thing on earth. The tech took some images, measured the baby, then turned on the lights and exited the room to show the doctor the results.

She had handed you a box of wipes to clean the gel off your stomach. Jack had the sonogram in his hand, smiling at it. You watched as he took the cellphone out of his pocket and snapped a picture. It dawned on you then that Jack had probably never had the opportunity to feel his other two children kick. They would have been too little.

“Jackson” you said.

He looked up.

“Here, come here,” you said, sitting up a little on the exam table. As he approached, you held out your hand. “Gimme”

Confused, he went to hand you the pictures; you swatted them away.

“No, your hand.”

He switched the sonogram to his other hand and offered the one closest to you. You took hold of his wrist, guiding it down to place it on the side of your stomach, then placed your hand atop of his. You thought the shock of his touch would stir something anxious in you, but it didn’t. In fact, his large, calloused hands felt familiar.

“You might not be able to feel it yet,” you said.

You waited a moment in silence, that familiar fluttering spreading in your body.

His brows knit.

“You felt it?”

“You sure that was the baby?” he asked.

“What else would it be?”

He shrugged. “Your supper?”

“Jackson Henry,” you said, amused. "That is your kid.”

He smiled. “Listen, all I’m sayin’ is that this feels exactly how my stomach used to feel after eating that pasta sauce you make.”

Your lips quirked into a smile. “It’s not my cooking that’s causing that, you’re lactose intolerant and refuse to admit it.”

“Who puts milk in pasta sauce, anyway?” Jack asked

“It's called vodka-” You shook your head smiling “you're a fuckin’ idiot.”

Jack looked up in mock surprise. "The baby just heard you call me an idiot.”

“The baby just heard you call her indigestion,” you shot back.

The baby has heard me call you worse things; you thought.

It was times like these that made you loathe the idea of keeping in contact with him… because it was times like these that made you miss him, and hate him all over again for what he did. Sure, you could play into the little back and forth between you like old times, but nothing would change the fact that when you looked down, the ring on his finger was no longer gold you had picked out with him, but a silver completely alien to you.

Jack must have sensed your change in demeanor, for he withdrew his and looked away awkwardly. “Yes, well, thank you for that. I appreciate it.”

You hummed, pulling your shirt over your belly and throwing the tissues in the garbage can beside you. “Maybe in a few weeks you will be able to feel it more.”

The word ‘maybe’ hung uncomfortably in the air. Whether you doubted the existence of Jack or the baby… you did not know. Perhaps both. If the last three years had taught you anything, it was that nothing in life was ever guaranteed and you needed to be skeptical to the very end.

Jack had come over that next Sunday, as he always did, to drop off groceries at your house.

Jack had a lot of anxiety around certain things, and with the baby coming it kicked up tenfold, and you had learned that it was best to let him do the things that would make him feel at ease, within reason of course. This meant, allowing him to pick up some items for you during his weekly shopping trip and lug them up the steep stairs to your apartment - lest you fall while trying to do it yourself.

On Sundays when he was out for work he would have the groceries dropped off. You wondered why you never saw Emily with him. Maybe she didn’t want to see you, maybe she didn’t care to help him with the chore…or maybe Jack wouldn’t let her tag along. If that was the case, you couldn't blame him.

Usually, he would only stay for a few minutes, as he had to get his groceries home before they thawed, but today the two of you had plans to discuss the nursery. Once the baby was old enough, she would be spending large amounts of time at both houses. You and Jack decided that it was best to make the rooms look identical to one another. That way she could have some consistency with her surroundings

Although the baby wasn’t coming for another few months, and she wouldn’t be able to stay overnight at Jack's house for an even longer amount of time…Rose had assigned this task to you both. She said it would be a great exercise in compromise and will allow you two to start getting excited about the prospect of having a baby.

Jack had brought with him a folder containing paint swatches, changing table adverts, and other miscellaneous decor items. You had your own ready as well.

“Your obsession with mahogany is weird,” you said, leaning against the kitchen counter and waiting for your peppermint tea to steep.

Jack sat at the kitchen table “it’s earthy.”

“It’s dark and depressing,” you said, “What about a sage green?”

“What hell is sage green?”

“Jackson, “ you said, taking your cup of tea with you to the table. You took the paint swatch out of your folder and handed it to him.

He tilted his head “hmm, yeah that's pretty.”

“And then I found this nursery set at Costco for one thousand five hundred. It has a changing table dresser, a crib that converts into a toddler bed, and then a full-sized later on. You don’t still have the old one right?”

Jack shook his head and sifted through some papers in his file, pulled one out then handed it to you. “I was thinking something more along the lines of this.”

He had printed out the specs of a top-of-the-line smart crib completely with a baby video monitor, heart monitor, sound machine, and three different movement features. The price tag was a whopping six thousand dollars.

“It’s really expensive,” you said, setting the page down on the table.

He shrugged “it’s safe”

“I mean yeah, if money was no object of course I would want that crib but… I can’t afford that Jackson. If we go with the other option I won't have to buy new furniture for a few years at least.”

“What if it was a gift from the company?” He asked.

You gave him an uneasy look.

“Ginger had asked me to ask you what you needed. It would be a gift from the whole agency, and a drop in the bucket from where finances are concerned.”

“It’s a pity gift, isn't it? They're not just handing out twelve thousand dollar baby gifts to other random employees, are they?” you asked.

Jack looked down and cleared his throat “people at the agency feel…upset the way things turned out and they want to…show that they appreciated your involvement and friendship-”

“No. No, they can go fuck themselves” you could feel yourself start to get heated. It wasn’t completely the agency's fault of course, but you had grown to consider his coworkers' friends after seeing them at many company functions. The way they all conspired in secret and nobody gave you the heads up really made you feel betrayed.

“Y/N,” Jack said softly.

“I don’t even wanna fucking do this anymore. You're making me fucking upset” you said, walking back into the kitchen and taking your tea with you.

“Look, all I’m trying to do is-” Jack started.

A knock on the door made the two of you turn. You set your cup down on the counter and moved to the door. You figured it was the downstairs neighbors who needed Jack to move his truck, however, when you opened the door you were greeted with a sight that stopped you dead in your tracks.

“Ezra?”

He smiled as he addressed you, “little bird.”

Jack stood and walked over to see what was going on. Ezra’s face flattened only for a moment but soon returned to his cheery smile. “My apologies if I'm interpreting,”

“No Jackson was just leaving,” you said.

There was a tense silence that followed, you looked behind you to see your ex-husband staring at the man, his jaw clenched tight.

“May I come in?” Ezra asked.

You nodded, pulling the door open for him to step through. You turned to Jack who was still looking as angry as ever and eyed him in a way that said ‘get your shit and leave.’ Jack obliged, grabbing his hat and keys from the table and walking to the landing font. He then stopped and turned as if he wanted to speak with you.

You gave Ezra a quick smile then shut the door behind you to speak with Jack privately.

“What?” you asked.

“He just shows up at your house? And you think that's all well and dandy?” Jack asked.

“I gave him my address,” you said.

“When?”

“The other night when I drove to his house,” you said.

“You drove to his house at night?”

You held a hand up to stop him “need I remind you, Jackson, we are no longer married, meaning what I do and when I do it is none of your concern.”

“It is my concern because that's my baby in there too and I have a right to make sure she’s not put in any danger.”

You rolled your eyes “you’re so fucking dramatic all the time.”

“You don’t see how that's a little fuckin’ creepy?” Jack asked. “Are you sleeping with him?”

You opened the door again and stepped through it” Why don’t you go back home to your dead wife Jack? I’m sure she misses you.”

With that, you shut the door in his face. Ezra was admiring the pictures in the two files you and Jack had strewn about the table.

“Nursery planning,” you said “can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

Ezra shook his head “no thank you, I’m fine.”

You nodded.

“I thought we should speak about what happened Tuesday evening. You did catch me quite off guard” Ezra said.

You felt a warm heat move to encompass your entire face. “I’m sorry if I surprised you and if my phone number and address on the box seemed a bit…forward. I just wanted to let you know where you could find me.”

“It’s not often somebody has the ability to render me speechless,” he said, his lips quirking into a slight smile “but you seem to do it often, little bird. I appreciated the gift and the apology for that matter.”

You smiled awkwardly “good, yeah. That's all I was trying to do. I felt bad the way things happened, and I still feel bad.”

“Think nothing of it, little bird. At my age, it is best to let bygones be bygones.”

“I’m glad, thank you.”

“How are you fairing?” Ezra asked.

“Oh um, fine. Still getting back on my feet, as you can see” you motioned to the mostly empty house. “But I’m good. The medicine is working well so hopefully, I can stop wearing the tube soon.”

“And the child?” Ezra asked.

“Oh,” you said, putting a hand on your belly “she's good. Super healthy so I’m glad.”

His eyebrow quirked up “you’re having a girl? Congratulations, that is wonderful. Have you thought of a name yet?”

“Thank you, um, and no not yet…what about you? How are things at the library?”

“Busy,” he said “for the life of me, I will never understand why children push off their summer reading until the very last two weeks of August.”

“That sounds like it sucks, things should start slowing down soon though… what, um, what does your girlfriend do?”

Ezra paused “girlfriend?”

“Yeah, the woman in your… you know on second thought that question might have been too forward I apologize-”

“She is not my girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“She is a coworker, her and her girlfriend are living with me until their new rental leasing period begins. I apologize if that was not clear the other night.”

“No” you laughed “no it was not… so you came here to tell me that then?”

He nodded “and to give you this.”

Ezra reached into the pocket of his Jacket and produced a folded-up paper. “It’s the submission information for the North American Emerging Writers contest. There is a category for cookbooks, if chosen as a winner the company will sign with you, then take care of marketing, printing, and distribution.”

You frowned your brows at the paper “ I haven't kept up writing…and I don’t think I’ll have enough time once the baby comes.”

“The baby won't arrive for another few months, it seems to me you have more than enough time to pull something together. When is she due?”

“December.”

“It works out then, submissions are due by January first.”

“Yeah but I don’t know if it will be good enough-” you started.

“It doesn't have to be good enough, it simply has to be finished. We can agree on how many pages you will send me a week, I will edit and revise then we can go from there. I would prefer at least two drafts to be completed before submission.”

You laughed “Ezra that's… would you even have enough time for something like that?”

“Surely I can make time.”

“Yeah but Ezra, I can barely cook myself or eat the food I cook, even just the smell of it is…” you trailed off, feeling queasy already.

“Then you can give me the instructions, I can write down my thoughts on the recipe, and then we’ll reevaluate at a later time. The important test of a cookbook is instructing others on how to do it.” He said.

“Why are you so keen on helping me?”

“Because you harbor a talent I wish to foster and I think you have a very good chance at winning if you just apply yourself to the work. People around here rarely wish to become anything more than average- I don’t wish to see you fade into rural obscurity.”

You laughed, “it's just a cookbook Ezra.”

“It is your dream no matter how small, if you were to achieve it, it would set you above the rest of the population by a large margin. Now, I have some thoughts about the order of the recipes….go fetch your laptop.”

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey fanfic #ezra prospect fanfic #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you

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creedslove · 11 months

Text

HEARTLESS 💔

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: he was ready to give you the world, except one thing: be the father of your baby

Warnings: angst, hurt, angst, agent whiskey (because he is a trigger warning himself), asshole!agent whiskey, pregnancy, mom!reader

A/N: YAY, finally my first Agent Whiskey story!!! Came up with this idea last night and I was so excited about it. I love angst and he is such a handsome angsty asshole! I hope you guys like it ❤️

2.2k words

The moment Jack lay his eyes on you, he felt different.

He didn't understand it at first, it felt so odd, so foreign, so unexpected. Something he hadn't felt in years and years, not after his beautiful, little family was ripped away from him.

He tried fighting it off, it was his first instinct, he couldn't do that, not after all those years, not after having his heart broken the cruel way it was. But at the same time, everytime you smiled at him, asked him about his day, called his name, something as simple as that, it made him weak on his knees.

That cowboy had it bad. And he had it bad for you.

So he made his first move and invited you out. You accepted.

Three years later, Jack was the happiest man on earth. He had a woman he loved very much by his side, you were gorgeous, so perfect for him, you made him feel so good, so worthy of love, and he treated you like a goddamn princess.

You spent more time in his apartment than anywhere else, he wanted to ask you to move in with him, but it didn't feel quite right yet. One of the reasons was because he didn't actually like living in that apartment, he thought maybe taking you to his ranch would be a lot better. You wouldn't be so busy all the time, the daily routine stress wouldn't be as bad as New York, you would be all the time around nature and things would be fine between the two of you.

But you guys weren't married.

And Jack didn't know what to do with himself when that particular thought crossed his mind. He had never, even considered marrying someone new after he lost his sweetheart. He just couldn't, it would be impossible, he could never replace her.

But then again, whenever he saw you, his heart fluttered and he couldn't help daydream about watching you walking down the aisle with a pretty white dress all for him.

Whenever he was out, he would check jewelry store's windows and picture which ring you would like the best.

Until he finally got the balls and bought one for you. He hadn't proposed yet, he still didn't know how he could do it, but he had made up his mind. He was going to make you his, you would become his sweet, beautiful Mrs.Daniels, his world and nothing could ever come between the two of you.

The night Jack proposed to you, you were both lying on the grass, spending a summer weekend at the ranch, where you two stargazed and made love for what it seemed like hours, and when you felt him move, you turned around just to see him on his knee, a ring box in hands and his pleading eyes, asking you to become his.

And you said yes. You were Jack's and he was yours.

And you would continue to do so, until you began feeling sick. You were sure it wasn't nothing more than just a stomach bug, maybe you were coming down with the flu or something like that as you also felt light headed. You insisted Jack didn't have to take you to the doctor, but he was overly protective and quite stubborn too, so it was better just to let him, instead of trying to talk him out of it.

He held your hand the entire time, as you two waited at the reception and the only reason why he didn't go inside with you was because the doctor insisted you had your appointment on your own.

A few questions asked and a blood exam later, the doctor called you and Jack into the office.

They had the results that neither of you expected: you were pregnant.

Jack's world crashed and collided at that very moment. He felt the ground disappearing from under his feet and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He couldn't do it again, he wasn't ready to lose everything that mattered to him.

He couldn't believe you, out of all the people in the world, you couldn't do that to him.

He had lost a wife and a baby before, and he wasn't going to go through that again. He had said many times he didn't want to be a father, he didn't want to have a baby and he thought he found someone he could rely on, he could trust.

But he hadn't.

No matter how many times you had tried to explain to him you were on birth control and that they could all fail, Jack wouldn't listen to you.

You argued, yelled at each other, he told you so many horrible things to which you replied even more horrible ones.

But the end of the line was when he suggested you get rid of the baby.

You couldn't and you wouldn't.

You had never thought of yourself as a mom, you didn't even think you had the maternity bug in you, but the moment you learned the news you were carrying a little someone inside, someone who would grow to become a baby, and then a beautiful child, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Jack even offered you money, so you would interrupt it. But you didn't even bother answering him. You took off the ring he had given you, placed it back in the box and left it on his pillow and you walked out of the ranch you had called a house once and never returned.

You hadn't seen Jack anymore. But you still felt him around sometimes, you just couldn't tell if it was real or just a product of your imagination. You would catch whiffs of his cologne, or you would glance at a man that looked like him and would simply disappear in the blink of an eye. As your bump grew, the loneliness and the heartbreak were visible. You would smile, but the smile wouldn't meet the eyes.

Still, a small part of you thought and maybe hoped he cared for you, but he never came after you, he had nine months to do so and you had no news.

When you learned you were having a baby boy, you felt a pang in your chest and for a moment you actually worried about what he and other people would think. You didn't want to compete with her, you weren't a replacement of his family, you knew he had lost a wife and a baby boy, and life had given him a bride and a baby boy and he chose to walk away from that. You realize then, you weren't competing with anyone, you were living your life and it was not your fault if someone else lost theirs in such a tragic way. Then, after that realization, your heart filled with nothing but love and pride of you beautiful baby boy. If his dad chose not to be around, he was still a tiny piece of Jack you would keep, to remind you of all the good times you had spent together and the moments you were happy.

When you gave birth to your beautiful baby Wyatt, you thought you had seen Jack. You were almost sure you woke up in the middle of the night and found him in the room. He was dressed exactly the way you saw him for the last time, dark clothes and cowboy hat, and he eyed you and the baby.

You didn't have the strength to say anything to him and you just closed your eyes when you saw him picking up Wyatt so carefully into his arms.

In the morning, the doctors said you had experienced a fever peak through the night, so if it was actually Jack or just a cruel feverish dream, you couldn't tell. You even asked around, but no nurse had seen a cowboy over the nightshift.

Time flew, you never actually believed in that whenever you heard people saying, until you realized the tiny newborn became a bigger baby and that baby turned into a toddler in the blink of an eye.

Life was hard without Jack's financial support, you had to admit that, but you lived a happy life with your son, who painfully reminded you of his daddy. The sweet warm pool of brown chocolate eyes, to the cute curls that grew wide if you didn't give him a haircut every two months, to the smartness in him and his fascination with farm animals.

It was actually kind of funny, Wyatt had never met his daddy, he had barely acknowledged the fact other kids had a father and he didn't have one, and yet, he was just the spitting image of his. Sometimes you wonder what Jack would think of him, if he would be proud, happy or pleased to see his boy and himself were so alike. You still had that feeling Jack was around at times, when you took your son to play dates at the park, when you were out shopping and he waved at someone behind you you couldn't never actually see.

And also the times a mysterious amount of money came in handy whenever you found yourself struggling with some bill.

A tip or a bonus in cash your boss didn't actually know how to explain where that came from or when some of your debts simply had disappeared, but you couldn't track the source of the money. However, you only knew one person who had enough money to actually be able to do such things.

You just didn't understand why Jack did all that, if he was so clear about not wanting you nor your baby you didn't get why he still took some of his time to go after the two of you and not only that, he was also putting money into you. Not every month, like child support but enough so you could be comfortable.

On the weekend, you decided to take Wyatt upstate. He was so excited to go to the small farm, a nice ranch where families could spend the day and see all kinds of animals. Your heart ached as you thought about the time you lived with Jack, if you hadn't gone separate ways, Wyatt would love to live there, play with the animals all day and interact with them. It could have been a different story, for the two of you and also Jack, but it was his choice after all.

The little toddler was so excited as you walked around the entire place with him, you were so patient with your son, holding his little hand and showing him all the animals he wanted to see.

He liked the chickens, the horses, the baby pigs and was so excited, but his little heart raced when he saw a man standing a few feet away.

"Mommy, wook! A cowboy!!!" He squealed excitedly as he still struggled in pronouncing the Rs and let go of your hand, running freely towards the man.

You called his name, but knew it was no use at all, so you forced yourself to run after him. You fastened your pace, worried about losing your little boy in the crowd and froze as you saw your son standing next to a man you could recognize miles away. He was in his typical cowboy clothes and he had one arm wrapped around Wyatt's small body.

He smiled at the little boy, nodding gently at whatever he was saying to him. You looked at them in horror, shaking your head and not understanding why that could be possibly happening.

You took some steps closer and whispered your son's name. Jack immediately looked up at you and smiled softly

"Here's your mama, little one" he said in his thick accent "looking pretty as ever" Jack added and got up, lifting his son up and felt his heart clenched at how tiny arms wrapped around his neck. He trusted him so easily, as he was so sweet and affectionate, without even knowing him, without having a clue he was his dad. Of course that sweetness was all you.

You teared up and swallowed hard, extending your arm to Wyatt who was still mesmerized at the big boy.

"Hat, mama!!" He pointed excitedly at Jack's head and made the older man chuckle.

"I see you are a little cowboy yourself, aren't ya?" He asked and took his hat off, handing it to the little boy and placing it on his head.

He kicked his little legs in excitement and finally agreed to go with you, holding your hand and twirling around in pure happiness.

You didn't have any words to say, you wanted to stay away from Jack, and keep him away from your son, he had rejected you, and now he had no right to claim either of you.

You immediately took Wyatt's hat off and shoved it back to Jack. He only stood there, disappointment in his eyes but he understood it.

"It was nice seeing you, sugar. You're looking gorgeous as ever" he said but you only gave him your back and walked away from him.

Jack had lost his first family and out of fear, he lost his second one too, because he was a coward, he was a bad man and he would have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life.

_____

A/N: of course my first Agent Whiskey piece had to be an angst one. I hope it was alright ❤️

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absurdthirst · 9 months

Text

Birthday Wishes {Agent Whiskey x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Jack being absolutely besotted, public sexual activities, vaginal fingering, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms

Comments: Jack promises to make your birthday a night to remember.

💝🎉🎊🎁Happy Birthday @wardenparker!!!!! You are an amazing friend and co-writer, I am lucky that you want to spend time with a nut like me! I hope you have an amazing birthday today. 💝🎉🎊🎁

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Agent Whiskey MasterList ||

“Sugar, you are as pretty as a picture and twice as sweet.” Your eyes shift from the mirror where you had been carefully touching up your makeup under the bright bulbs of your vanity to where Jack’s warm brown eyes are watching you. They darken slightly and on edge of that cock mouth curls up and lifts his neatly trimmed mustache. You know what is about to come out of his mouth. “We can always stay home and have our own celebration right here, sans clothes.”

It shouldn’t be tempting, but when Jack Daniels is your lover, your partner, it’s always on the table. The man could talk you out of plans and out of your clothes so fast, your head would be spinning. And not just from that talented mouth eating your pussy like it was nectar of the Gods.

“You always say that, Jack.” “‘Cause you always tempt me to keep you for myself, sugar.” Strong, warm arms slide around your soft stomach and he squeezes you tight as his nose and mouth burrow in at your shoulder. Giving you a view of his artfully combed hair. The cowboy hat hadn't gone on his head, just yet. “Fuck, you always smell so good.”

It was the perfume he had bought you. One of the first gifts he had brought from a mission when he had decided to ‘court’ you. His words, although you find the old fashioned vernacular charming and very fitting. Jack might be crass at times, but at others he is the height of a southern gentleman.

His mustache tickles and makes you shiver, followed by his hot mouth ghosting over your pulse and pressing petal soft kisses to your skin. Making gooseflesh pebble your skin and your eyes slip closed as you sigh out his name.

He’s good at distracting you. Those large hands sliding over your stomach and traveling up to cup your breasts. His groan against your skin is low, already husky rumble even raspier as he slowly massages the flesh in his hands through your bra. You hadn’t dressed yet, waiting until your hair and makeup is done before you slide your dress on.

“Jack.” You whine, eyes half closed and your lips poised in a pout as you instinctively lean to the side to give him more room to do whatever he wants with your body. “You planned tonight.” You remind him.

“Next time, smack me upside the head.” He huffs, reluctantly pulling away from where he was nibbling on your shoulder to send you an playfully unhappy look in the mirror. “For being such a fool to think I wouldn’t want to keep you home and to myself.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you smirk and lift a brow. “Finish getting ready, Mr. Daniels.” You chide. “You promised me a night out for my birthday and that is exactly what I am getting.”

Letting go of your tits, Jack winks at you and grins. “Of course you are, sugar.” He promises with a smirk. “Tonight is going to be a night you never forget.”

****

“Jack!” Your surprised squeal is muffled against his jacket, although you shouldn’t be surprised. Jack’s fingers, push aside the material of your panties and those thick, nimble fingers quickly find your sex slick with desire. “We are in public!”

“So?” His chuckle fans out warmly over your skin and he rubs your bundle of nerves before his thumb presses against it and two fingers push slowly inside you. “No one is paying attention and I can’t help myself.” He defends. “You are too appealing, sugar. Sittin’ here lookin’ like an angel wrapped in sin.”

The pressing curl of his fingers steals your ability to answer. Mouth dropped open in a soundless moan, only the tiniest squeak manages to sound, barely even reaching his ear except he’s listening for it.

“Hmmmm.” He rumbles, making sure that he curls his body around you in the booth in the most intimate corner of the restaurant. While he loves pushing the boundaries of propriety, he doesn’t want anyone to actually see you. Your pleasure is his alone. “What’s that, sugar?” He coos softly. “I didn’t hear you.”

Turning your head, you feel the way that he is absolutely playing your pussy like it’s a stringed instrument. Moaning softly into his ear, your body pulls taunt and starts to roll with the plunge of his fingers. It’s wicked and filthy, letting him finger you right here in the middle of the trendiest restaurant around, the possibility of anyone catching you running high as waiters and guests run around. Still, your fingers grip the fabric of his suit coat and you let him do whatever he wishes to your body as you respond to him.

The drag of his fingers in and out of your velvet walls makes you hiss in pleasure, the way they pulse around his thick digits similar to how he feels when he is working his cock inside you. Nerve endings firing in pleasure and making the knot in your belly grow every time he pushes them deep.

“Jack.” You pant softly, trying to keep your voice down as your eyes dart around the room. It makes him chuckle, but the pressure against your clit and the movement of his fingers never pauses.

“You’re gonna cum for me, sugar.” He promises. “Your pretty little pussy is gonna weep around my fingers and give me a little treat to suck on that will be more delicious than the best dessert in this place.” His chuckle is low and raspy. “Hell, I’d rather set you up on the table and feast on you.”

He would probably do it, if you were at home. Your table has often been the scene of countless couplings. Now he just intends to make you whine and whimper, shaking with pleasure in public.

Your finger nails dig into the fabric of his suit, clutching for purchase, to ground you so you don’t go floating away on a cloud of ecstasy while the entire restaurant watches. The wine on the table is barely touched and yet you feel like your head is swimming, thoughts fuzzy to everything but the press of his fingers.

Jack’s dark eyes watch you, sparkling encouragement from their dark depths. His lips pulled into a smirk as every pass of his fingers rockets you closer to having to muffle a cry. He’s enjoying your pleasure. If you were to reach down and take a squeeze of his cock, you would find him hard as a rock.

“Just a little more, sugar.” He coos, leaning in and kissing your jaw. “Just a little more and your sweet pussy will be singin’ for me. Can you do that? Can you cum in my fingers and let me have a little taste of you?”

The raw, rough pitch of his voice and the next swipe of his finger pushes you over the edge. Turning and burying your face against his neck, your muffled moan is barely heard outside your little booth, breathed into the fabric of his suit. “Jack, oh God, Jack.” You whimper, the quiver of your cunt following the molten slick that coats his fingers and makes him hum in satisfaction.

“That’s it, sugar, cream on ole Jack’s fingers for me.” He whispers in praise, working you through it and humming as your flutter walls start to slow. “Good girl,” He likes the way you pant against his collar, looking just for the world like a woman who is snuggled against her man. “Ride it out.”

Jack’s fingers work you until he can sense that you want him to stop and slowly pull out of your wet heat. The sticky sounds make him grin and his napkin comes up with his hand to cover him discreetly licking his finger clean with a small groan of pleasure.

Your face flames hot when the server glides back over to the table, either unaware of what had just happened or the soul of discretion to not mention that you are still slightly panting from the way he had just turned your world upside down. Clearing your plates and assuring you that dessert was already on the way.

Turning towards Jack with a surprised look, you can tell that he had pre-planned this by the very pleased look on his face as he nods and picks up his champagne glass. “To another year that we - and I mean all of us - have been graced with your presence and blessed by your existence.” He taps his glass to yours. “Happy Birthday, sugar.”

You take a sip of your frothy, bubbly champagne and he winks at you. “This is only the beginning.” He promises, having planned out the entire night out to make sure you know how special you are to him and how much he loves you.

“Jack.” You huff, almost embarrassed having his attention centered on you like you always are. When Jack is focused, that is the only thing that matters in the world and right now, that focus is on you.

“Baby girl, you deserve a night that is all your own.” He insists, lips pushed into a pout and winks at you. “I’m going to make sure of it.” A promise that you know that he will not be satisfied until he makes good on.

****

“Jaaaaaaaack.” Your hips jerk and lift under his firm grip, not going anywhere but where he wishes for you to. Completely in control and taking you apart lick by lick as his tongue curls and flicks over your swollen clit. Wrenching moan after unhinged moan out of you as he builds you up for yet another peak.

You don’t know how long it has been since you last shuddered apart under the coaxing of his tongue, it might have been thirty seconds ago or an hour. Time is suspended when you look down to see his mustache pressed against your mound and his sharply curved nose breathing in the heady scent of your pleasure.

Jack is meticulous. Bringing you into the house and starting to strip you down. His lips covering every inch of your body and making sure that he whispers praises into your skin as he scatters them artistically on your skin. Fingers trailing as he slowly drags your dress down to let it pool at your feet before sliding under the straps of your bra to pull them down your arms. Stripping much more than your clothes as he undresses you, he’s stripping away the layers of protection and armor until there is nothing left but you and him.

That is when Jack’s true talent comes out. That mouth. It can be used for quick witted banter or issuing threats that he has the training to back up, sarcastic quips or for smooth reassurances. The best use for it though is when he puts his mouth on you.

Jack Daniels is a cocky son of a bitch, but he knows what he is doing. He spends the time making sure that he knows every spot on your body that would make you sing his name. Carefully and meticulously mapping your pleasure points to use against you.

Smirking against your cunt, Jack chuckles and flicks his tongue against your clit once more. Pushing you over the edge and you come with a wail of his name. Watching as your entire world explodes and your eyes flutter while you gasp out. Working you through it with a slow suckle on your sex that keeps extending the pleasure and twisting it higher inside you.

Your fingers tangle into the sheets, the only thing keeping you from floating away as your body shakes and heat floods your system. His name is the only thing that you can manage to say over and over again. Falling off your tongue in gasping praise while your thighs press around his ears and squeeze them tight.

By the time that he is kissing up your body and settling between your thighs, you are finally floating back down to earth. Cognizant of the smug smirk that rides on his face as he slides up to kiss your lips and nudges his nose against yours. “I love you, sugar.”

The sentiment is perfect for the moment that he slides inside you. Filling and stretching you out the way that only he can. Your head tilts back and your moan is soft, your legs starting to wrap around his waist. Enjoying the weight of him on top of you and surrounding you. Consuming you.

Every thrust is slow and measured, letting you feel him. Experience the slow pulses inside you and the sharp twitches as he rocks you both higher. Words of love and praise passing between you with languid kisses.

“I love you sugar.” Jack groans, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

Nothing on earth could ever beat birthday wishes from Jack. Nothing.

#pedro pascal #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey fanfic #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels smut #jack daniels #jack daniels imagine

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just-here-for-the-moment · 2 years

Text

File 22_Subject: My Condolences

Declassified HR Files Series Masterlist - a collaboration between @driedgreentomatoes and @just-here-for-the-moment

Summary: The Eddy is down Warnings: Partying too hard could cause early retirement --- From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: January 24, 2013 11:02 AM Subject: My Condolences

Richard Edward Van Horn (April 1, 1988-January 22, 2013)

Richard Edward Van Horn - known as “Dickie” to his friends and family - loved working out, swimming in Barton Springs, and volunteering at animal shelters. Dickie was pursuing a career in liquor production when he was called home to heaven far too early. The sudden accident that took his life at the Statesman Whiskey Distillery in Kentucky reminds all of us to treasure our loved ones and to follow safety protocols while working with vats of lethal acid. While his Earthly remains could not be recovered, we know that his spirit is at rest. Private services will be held later this week.

To: All Staff, Statesman HQ

It is with a heavy heart that I announce the passing of our own Agent Vodka, nicknamed “Deep Eddy” by some of you. Vodka was enthusiastic and eager to learn, and was able to contribute to several important missions while he was with us.

Unfortunately - and based on the disgraceful manner in which he comported himself during his final, fatal mission - Statesman will retire the agent code name “Vodka” permanently.

Fortunately we were able to keep the actual details of his passing out of the newspapers, although I am heartbroken that we could not return his body to his family, since toxicology testing would have revealed things that Statesman would rather keep unknown.

If anyone needs grief counseling during this time, I encourage you to take advantage of our Employee Assistance Program. You’re also welcome to come chat with me anytime.

//Champ -------------------- From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: January 24, 2013 11:15 AM Re: Agent Vodka’s passing

Champ,

Mission report is attached. I’m taking a week off.

JACK

Attachment: MR_2013-Jan-24_Project Soaring Eagle.pdf -------------------- From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: January 23, 2013 11:19 AM Re: Agent Vodka’s passing

Jack,

I’m awful sorry, I know you liked the kid. Let me know if you need anything.

//Champ --------------------

< File 21

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fictitious-little-stitious · 2 years

Text

Drink to Regret

Jack “Whiskey Daniels

Read on AO3

Summary: It’s a downer, folks.

Warnings: alcohol, angst, brief descriptions of death and deceased family, depression, doctor visit, fights, flashbacks, food mention

Word Count: ~780

A/N: This has been a little project for several odd months now. What began with a random thought from Kacey Musgraves’ cover of “The Wurlitzer Prize” turned into something quite different. Thank you @acrossthesestars and @jadore-andor for reading a draft of this ages ago. All mistakes are mine lol.♥️

With all the peppy hospitality she was trained to exude, the nervously cheerful server approaches his booth. Her coworker who has just stepped in from the back grimaces while she relays the drink specials and brews on tap to the haggard cowboy. She doesn’t know better, this being her first shift and him being her first customer.

Him. He’s sitting in his corner booth, closest to the back door with the front door still in sight. He knows she’s new, so he nods slightly in acknowledgement of her presence. As she delivers her schpeel, he imagines that with the twitch of a hand, even a side eye, he could also startle the skittish hipster tending bar. Lean into that foreboding myth people assume is his reputation and get two for one. But he knows he wouldn’t get anything lasting from it, so he lets the thought fade as quickly as it arrived. It’s better to let these people put in the work to keep their distance. Their wary side glances and hushed tones are no skin off his nose if it means he can be left to himself.

He’s heard the staff speculate about him when they think he can’t hear. Exactly what they’re saying he can’t catch word for word— too much gunfire over as many years tends to do that to a man — but he gets the gist. Like a game of telephone, each version is its own harmless, bastardized derivative of its predecessors.

“This isn’t even the original mirror. No, no, no, he took care of that. Assisted a gentleman head first into that over a poker game.”

Not true. Got sick of seeing the sorry reflection of a sonuvabitch she wouldn’t recognize if she was around. Then again, if she was around… there’d be no reason to be in this shithole.

“Hard to picture it now, but he was a manwhore in his younger years. If he couldn’t drink it or fuck it, he wasn’t interested.”

Half true. Forgot to mention fight it or drive it.

“So why wasn’t he ever kicked out?”

“Because he always paid the damages. Honestly… just look at him. Nobody comes in or leaves with him. Miserable bastard drove everyone away. Simple as that.”

True. Simple as that.

…

He comes here because there’s nothing, nobody keeping him home. He’s gone longer without those familial ties than he had them to begin with. To think they would’ve been together over 40 years by now. Hell, maybe they’d’ve had another kid or two.

He comes here to justify weak alibis he can tell his doctor once or twice a year because there’s truth in the vagueness.

“Do you get out of the house?”

“Yep.”

Can’t leave fast enough.

“You socialize?”

“Sure.”

If you can call it that.

“Three square meals?

Now that he can’t swing. Once he might’ve quipped sarcastically about pretzels and beer counting as his daily grains. Instead, he answers as any man his age would.

“Coffee. Bacon and eggs. Steak and eggs.”

Half true.

He comes here for the routine: drink, pay the tab, out the door. It’s been umpteen long, weary years, but he hasn’t changed his schedule, table, or order since who knows when. At this rate, he’ll outlast the establishment. The building could burn to the ground, but sure as hell, he would show up at his usual time the next afternoon to make himself at home amongst the rubble and ash with its lingering warmth.

…

He comes back round to see the server is still looking at him expectantly. She wonders if he’s considering the drink options or waiting for her to tell him about the appetizers. Finally, he clears his throat for his first utterance of the day.

“Whiskey,” he tells the server curtly.

In her nerves, she takes the time to write out the ticket for the single drink. She’s across the room before she catches her error. The bar is empty save for the three of them, yet she walks all the way back to his booth.

“What kind of whiskey, sir? We have—“

He cuts her off to spare them both.

“Statesmen, please,” his voice stumbles on the last word, unfamiliar to him after years without saying it. He puzzles on that, while the server thinks nothing of it.

Three drinks later he remembers when he last said, no, begged “please”. After the fourth, he keeps the fifth. Hopes to hell it can dull the reawakened memory of lights, sirens, and her cold hand in his.

It’s pleas that persist into his restless dreams and through the morning, until they drive him to his booth to start all over again.

~≈~

Songs I had on repeat:

“The Wurlitzer Prize”, both Waylon Jennings’ and Kacey Musgraves’ versions

“Good Time Charlie’s Got the Blues” by Danny O’Keefe

“Old Violin” by Johnny Paycheck

Honestly, half of Merle Haggard’s catalogue lol

Tagging: (please see the link in my bio to add/remove your URL)

@acrossthesestars

@amneris21

@kirsteng42

@littlemisspascal

@jadore-andor

@luz-introvertida

@sharkbait77

@songsformonkeys

@writeforfandoms

Line dividers by @ firefly-graphics

Banner created by @ acrossthesestars 💚

#jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels fanfic #agent whiskey #agent whiskey fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #this is my writing alright #fls writing tag

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in-for-a-pennyx · 1 year

Text

Hear me out:

Sheriff or Cowboy Whiskey or Baron Jack Daniels and a Highwaywoman historical adventure romance

Agent Whiskey and Conartist oc or reader fic.

Please. Yea

#give me that #summer wine #agent jack daniels #agent whiskey #Jack Daniels #pedro pascal #agent whiskey fanfic #fic idea #Spotify

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wardenparker · 4 months

Text

New Year's Surprise

Jack Daniels x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18.7k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, internalized fatphobia, self esteem issues, pining, meddlesome friends, unwanted attention from a male coworker, light spanking, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Jack likes being scratched up, reader is described as having fingernails long enough to scratch (no specific length given), the love is requited they're just idiots. Summary: Ginger has a plan to get you and Jack to admit you have feelings for each other. She did not anticipate just how well it would work... Notes: Happy almost New Year everyone! Enjoy a little more winter seasonal smut and fluff from us to you 🥂🍾✨

"You're sure it's not too much, Ging?" Turning in front of the full-length mirror in Ginger's apartment, you inspect the glittering black cocktail dress that your friend helped you pick out at the mall during all those after-Christmas sales she promised you that you would find something at. She was right, like she always is, but now that the dress is on you, you're wondering if you haven't made a mistake. If it's not too revealing, or too short, or too tight.

Whoever in HR came up with this insane Cowboys and Flappers theme for the company New Year's Eve party deserved to have their head examined. You're not the femme fatale agent that gets sent out to seduce men and collect their secrets. Few men out there in the world are ever really seduced by the chubby girl in any given scenario, but it did tend to make you invisible. Invisible women can slip in and out of buildings in literally any kind of uniform and get through security without ever being harassed, and that works to your advantage on almost every case. Unfortunately, it also means that for the five years you've been a Statesman agent, you've also been fairly invisible to the man you've developed feelings for.

It’s perfect.” No matter how many times Ginger Ale tells you that you are sexy just the way you are, that insecurity gets the best of you. “I’m telling you, you will have every eye in the place.”

“I doubt it.” You sigh in the mirror and smooth your hands over the sequined dress one more time. “But that’s okay. I don’t want every set of eyes…”

“I know what set of eyes you want on you.” Your taste in men is your own, and Ginger won’t fault you for it, but she wonders why Jack. “It might do the man good to know that he’s got competition.” You don’t believe her when she says that it’s more telling that Jack doesn’t hit on you, but it’s the truth.

“He doesn’t, though.” Shrugging, you turn away from the mirror and decide to just go on with the night. Wishing won’t make it real and Jack Daniels barely looks at you. Even though you’ve partnered on cases, spend time together in and out of the office, and are arguably friends in every true sense? You’ve always wanted more with him. The only person who knows is Ginger, though, and you prefer to keep it that way since Jack will never return your affection. “And that’s…it is what it is. Even if you’re the only person I dance with tonight, it’ll still be fun.”

“Wearing that dress?” Ginger snorts as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have the faith for both of us, how about that?” She knows that Jack won’t be able to resist you tonight, not when she’s lined up a few of the junior agents to dance with you already. It’s time that Jack settles down and finds some happiness, and what better time than the New Year?

******

While you easily could have had the party at Statesman considering the size of the grounds, Champ wouldn’t hear of it. He’s hosting the damn thing himself come hell or high water, in his favourite suit with his wife dressed to the 9’s in her flapper dress, and more caterers than you’ve ever seen in your life all making his early twentieth century coal baron’s mansion look as resplendent as the day it was built. The place is palatial, with a ballroom so big that the band he’s hired looks tiny in one corner despite being six-men strong. It’s music and liquor and appetizers passing by on trays when you and Ginger walk through the door, and you gasp at how nice it all looks.

“I know he does it every year,” you sigh to your best friend. “But the theme is always different and I swear somehow the house always looks better on new year’s.”

“Champ does know how to throw one hell of a party.” She agrees, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter as she walks by. Her own sleek flapper dress is a vivid purple, making her beautiful skin glow and for tonight, she’s wearing contacts. Her short hair is perfectly styled, a cap like illusion, highlighted with the crystal headband she’s picked. “To a New Year we will never forget.” She hands you one glass and adds, “or regret.”

“You’re certainly optimistic.” You flash her and grin and tap the rim of your glass against hers. “Finally going to talk to Alicia or is this just positive vibes?” It’s been two years since Ginger started crushing on the woman who supervises Statesman campus tours and visitor experience, but she hasn’t made a move yet. Being frozen in place with someone you care about is something the two of you have in common.

“Positive vibes.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and trying to change the subject. “Look! There’s Tequila!” She waves the younger agent over to where you are standing. “You made it! Didn’t think you were ever gonna get back from Brazil, or if you wanted to.” She adds with a grin.

“Those are two very different questions.” Tequila agrees with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Did he have to come back? Sure. But did he want to leave the comfort and luxury of that beautiful woman’s bed? Not at all. “But I would not have missed dancing with you ladies for the world,” he adds with a wink. He’s very much in on Ginger’s plan, after all, and is looking forward to the fireworks it will bring.

You fluster slightly at his words, but Ginger knows that you don’t have your cap set on Tequila. You just don’t handle compliments well. “You’ll have to get in line.” Ginger warns him with a smirk. “As good as Rye looks tonight, every man in here is going to want a dance. After I dance with her first.”

“Well I reckon I’ll have to be second, then.” Tequila puts in a playful pout. “But only because I would never deny Miss Ginger Ale gettin to be first.” He smiles again and tips his hat, having opted to wear his best Stetson with an elegant Kingsman suit. “You don’t have to,” you insist, knowing Tequila always has more choices of dance and bedroom partners than he could ever feasibly make his way through. “I’m sure you have other people you want to dance with tonight.”

“No one important.” Tequila smirks as he drags his eyes up and down your outfit and whistles slowly. “And no one nearly as pretty.” He promises.

“Liar.” Though you roll your eyes at him, you don’t protest anymore than that. He’s your friend, after all. And if he wants to waste his time dancing with you, you’ll just enjoy it. Tequila’s a fantastic dancer, after all.

“Never lie to you, honey.” Tequila croons, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. “Lie about what?” The voice comes from your left and all eyes swing that way.

“Jack!” Normally you know he’s coming. The smell of earthy, expensive cologne and the tap-click-shuffle of his boots on polished floors. The soft humming he gets up to when he’s pleased with himself, not quite melodic but endearing because it means he’s happy. But you sensed none of that just now, too caught up in the band playing and the fragrant flowers and the tickle of bubbly in your nose and throat. “Nothing. We were just talking about dancing…” He looks like a dream, and it makes you sick to your stomach and elated all at once. Another night of watching him fawn over every woman but you is what you’ve resigned yourself to putting up with, but it’s just rude of him to look so damn handsome in that black velvet double breasted suit and sleek black Stetson while he does it.

“Dancing, hum?” His eyes narrow slightly at the grip Tequila has on your hand and he wants to reach out and slap it away, but he just shoots everyone an easy grin. “Ready to cut a rug tonight, eh?”

"I guess so." The shyness that threatens to shoot straight through you is knocked off kilter by Ginger, who hoots in response. "She's got her dance card all filled up already, Whiskey. Should've gotten here earlier," she tells him with a smirk.

His mustache ticks, it’s the only change to his facial expression. “I’m sure Rye can squeeze me in.” His dark amber eyes slide over to you and swipe up and down your body. “Can’t you, sugar?”

"Of course." You'd throw over the whole goddamn list for him. Besides, you have no idea what Ginger could possibly mean by saying your 'card' is full. One dance with her and one with Tequila isn't a full anything. "Of course I can."

“Good. Then how about I refresh you ladies’ drinks?” Jack asks, slapping Tequila on the back a little rougher than necessary. “Come help me with that.”

"Sure." Tequila grunts, throwing you a confused expression like he can't figure out why the hell Jack needs help getting champagne when waiters with trays are everywhere, but he shoots Ginger a secret smirk before following Jack into the next room where the open bar is set up.

“Tonight will be perfect.” Ginger predicts with a smug grin as she watches the two men walk towards the open bar. .

“What the hell are you doin’, flirtin’ with Rye?” Jack’s easy grin falls away and his brows knit together as soon as his back is turned to you. “You know that girl ain’t your type.”

"I can't be nice to my friend?" Tequila asks, pretending to be positively aghast that Jack would suggest he's up to anything else. One hand ever goes to his chest with a dramatic gasp.

Jack’s eyes cut towards the other agent, a frown on his face. “It’s one goddamn thing to be nice, it’s another to flirt.”

"When did I flirt?" The younger agent counters, knowing full well that's what he was doing but not about to admit it because he wants to make Jack stew.

“You were flirtin’ the second you can outta your momma, but you gotta learn there’s certain girls you don’t do that shit with.” Jack growls, stopping in front of the bar and holding up two fingers. “Double 62 Triple Barreled.” He orders, wanting one of the rare whiskeys that Champ had broken out tonight. “And two champagnes.”

"Now, why is that, Jack?" Tequila hums, looking down at his friend. Jack isn't too much shorter than him, but just enough to annoy the older agent on occasion. "Why is Rye one of those girls?"

“Because…” that’s where his argument ends, because there’s not really a reason beyond his own feelings. “It’s…unprofessional.” He decides. “She’s an agent for Christ’s sake.”

Tequila snorts at this string of logic, accepting his drink from the pretty bartender with a wink and sliding a large bill into the tip glass on the bar top before looking back at Jack. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it, Daniels. You fucking know it."

He does know it, but he snatches his own drink up and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He hates that his stomach twists and he wonders if you had been flirting back. Looking over his shoulder at where you are standing, he clenches his jaw at the tassels that are swaying every time you move. “Don’t get her damn hopes up.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We both know you ain’t gonna fuck her.”

"Nor does she want me to." This is gonna be a hell of a lot easier than he and Ginger thought, if Jack is always so fuckin wound up over you and he only just arrived for the night. "I ain't the one she has her eye on and everybody with eyes knows it."

Jack ignores that, huffing to himself as he tries to hid the fucking jealousy that curls in his gut at whoever you do have your eye on. Lucky son of a bitch. “No fuckin’ talkin’ to you, hardheaded S.O.B.” The champagne glasses are in front of him and he downs the rest of the drink to slap the crystal glass down and snatch up the flutes. Turning around without another word and stalking across the room towards you and Ginger.

It's only one room he has to cross, but by the time he gets there, Agent Brandy has sidled up beside you and Ginger and has his fingers ever so subtly on your elbow while bends his head and puts all his focus directly on you.

Halfway across the room, Jack jerks to a halt and growls, shaking his head as he resumes the walk and forces a moderately friendly smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d be back from Korea, Don.” He interrupts as he arrives back at your group.

"Two days ago." Brandy flashes a smile in Jack's general direction but keeps his focus on you. "Glad I made it back in time, too. Champ throws a hell of a party."

His eye twitches but Jack nods. “Yeah he does. Shoulda brought that little gal you were seein’. Brandy. Brenda right? Or was it Bambi?” He shrugs. “Maybe all of them at once, knowin’ you.”

"Now don't be unkind, Jack." Brandy's eyes cut over to the older agent and Brandy offers what could be considered a modestly dramatic pout. "Or Rye might think the worst of me and throw me over for that dance I just got promised."

Jack seethes beneath the smile on his face. “Would hate for that to happen.” He lies, handing Ginger one of the glasses and then offers the other to you.

The glass is offered with a smile and you thank Jack, savoring even the tiniest moment of contact between brushing fingers as he hands it over. It's probably bordering on pathetic, how long you've carried this torch for Jack, and it seems like Ginger is really trying to encourage you tonight to come out of your shell tonight but you just don't know. As nice as everyone is being, it doesn't feel right. The only thing that feels right is when you're around Jack. It's just a damn shame that he doesn't feel the same.

It’s almost painful how the simple, innocent touch affects him. Now visceral his reaction is. Only the training that Statesman has given him keeps him from showing anything. “Well,” he hates to tear himself away, but he can’t be around you for too long. “I better go talk to Champ about some cases he wants worked tomorrow.” He offers.

"It's a party," you remind him, smile flickering as he steps back. Obviously the small touch that you'll be savoring for the rest of the night has had the opposite effect on him. But there's no need to show that. Not when it's fully expected that he doesn't want to be around you when there are plenty of other people to talk to and women to dance with. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

“Never do,” he nods at everyone and turns around and skedaddles over to Champ like his pants are on fire.

"Come on," Ginger loops her arm through yours and lends Brandy a smirk that you don't notice — you're too busy trying not to look after Jack. "Let's go dance, honey. The night is young and we are looking far too good not to show off."

Champ eyes Jack as he stops by his side. “Figured you’d have a gal in your arms by now.” He huffs as he reaches out to shake Jack’s hand. “Losing your touch?” Jack snorts. “When have I ever lost my touch?” He asks, pointedly refusing to look back over towards you. “Just surveying my prospects.”

"And how is Agent Rye this evening?" Champ doesn't even have to look to know that that's where Jack has just come from. He blew into the room so quickly that it's the only explanation for the fire in his heels.

“Don’t you start with me.” Jack groans, shaking Champ’s hand and huffing. “Far as I know, she’s dandy.”

"Why should I not start?" Champ knows damn well why not, but he enjoys riling up his friend. "Somebody beat me to the punch?"

“Every-goddamn-body here tonight is actin’ like they’ve never seen the woman in a dress.” He snorts, complaining about it even though he has already memorized the way the damned sequined dress clings to your curves and enhances them in ways that should be criminal. “It’s damned ridiculous and borderline workplace harassment.”

Smirking, Champ pours two glasses of his preferred Statesman 1972 Select, savoring the smoked cherry notes from that particular year. He hands one cut crystal glass over to Jack with his tongue set firmly in his cheek. "You know you'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you just asked the lady to dance your damn self."

The glare Jack cuts Champ is withering and he turns his head as he takes a sip, refusing to rebuff the remark. It seems like everyone is taking the piss with him tonight as Eggsy would say. (edited)

"She's allowed to have fun, ya know." Champ goes on, humming the thought as though the glare Jack just shot him wouldn't have struck a lesser man dead in his tracks. "Damn shame she hasn't set her cap on anyone. Big family dreams, that gal has. Always has. It'll be a damn shame when she finally decides to hang up her pistols and have a family, but I won't let her get farther than the training ring. Too good of an agent to just let her retire."

“Is there a point to your ramblings?” Jack grumbles. “Or are you just spouting shit tonight?”

"Do what I want in my own house." The older man chuckles heartily and claps Jack on one shoulder. "Got a couple of jobs to start the new year with. Come see me tomorrow and we'll figure out which one's yours."

He’s being dismissed and since Champ is also giving him hell, Jack quickly nods and walks off. Trying to walk around the ostentatious ballroom without looking at you. “Hello handsome.” A perfectly manicured hand drapes itself over his shoulder and the scent of gardenias and sandalwood fills his nostrils. “Tiffany.”

Like a bloodhound on a trail, you spot it from across the ballroom without even trying to. Twirling around with Ginger, your eyes catch sight of the gorgeous, skinny, leggy blonde who has let herself drape over Jack's side and you sigh. Deflate is probably the right word, but you remind yourself it was never going to happen anyway and just hold on to Ginger as the song comes to an end.

“What’s a tall, dark, handsome drink of water like you doin’ all by your lonesome?” She purrs, making him hide the wince he had at the put on accent of hers. She’s as southern as tofu and yet she tries to make it sound like she’s grown up around here. Still, she’s a distraction and the best part about it is that there’s no emotional strings. “Looks like I should be buyin’ you a drink, darlin’.”

"I wish you would," she puts on a too-high giggle and bats eyelashes heavy with mascara and augmented with false hairs. Laying it on thick, she pushes in even closer and lets her body fit against his with nothing left to the imagination.

Jack doesn’t feel anything but he paints a cocky smirk on his face as he turns to her. “Then let me go get something for you, what do you want, darlin’?”

“Champagne, of course,” she simpers, never once considering the fact that she’s at a party for a whiskey distillery. Hell, she hadn’t even dressed for the theme.

Tiffany hangs out at the bar Statesman regularly hangs out at. A groupie because she knows everyone there makes good money. He’d bet his bottom dollar she conned Scotch into bringing her.

“Some party.” Is her attempt at conversation, putting more effort into showing off her cleavage than completing sentences. “You distillery boys sure know how to treat your gals.”

“Of course we do.” Jack’s smile is wicked, but it’s a part of the persona he adopts when he is working a target, it’s not real. “Any gal of mine deserves to be treated right.”

“Is that an invitation?” She knows who Jack is. Knows the civilian job title he’s been at Statesman Distillery. Even if she knew what it was all a front for, she likely wouldn’t care. She might just try harder if she knew the real wealth being flung around between a lot of these people.

“Now sweetheart, I’m good for a night or two.” Jack drawls. “But I’ve got a lot of leavin’ left to do.” He hums, quoting the country song.

The pout on Tiffany’s face is both dramatic and pronounced, but seeing that he’s immovable in that point — and knowing his reputation — she makes a small sound of frustrated disgust before flouncing away. Apparently annoyed at having wasted her time on a line cowboy.

The huff that Jack lets out is one of pure relief. Happy that he won’t have to deal with her again for at least half the night. She might make her way back around depending on successful she is. It’s shameful to say, but most of the agents here have dallied with her, including Jack. However, he had only taken her home to satisfy a physical need. He slowly makes his way back to the bar to order another drink, not champagne.

His line of sight is unfortunate as he saunters back toward the open bar. Looking back out to the dance floor, he can see Tequila twirling you around and the two of you laughing as the younger man holds you close and mock-sings along with the band.

Jack’s frown is deep, furrowing his brow as he cuts his eyes away in a jealous huff.

It goes round and round like that for most of the night. One dance partner after the next sweeps you across the dance floor but never the partner you want. One beautiful woman after another sidles up to Jack and bats their eyelashes but none are the woman he actually wants at his side. It’s a three-ring-circus. A whirlwind. But you never seem to get close enough to each other to see that neither of you is actually having any fun.

It’s easy to have an arm around a woman, easy to smile and flirt. His eyes continuously find you on the dance floor. Ginger had been right apparently, you had a damn dance card that was slap full. He hisses under his breath, wondering how many of those men knew you bit your thumb when you were working out a problem or that your eyes changed to a lighter shade when you were feeling slightly bashful.

There isn’t a single night of your life where you’ve gotten this much attention from this many different men — or this many different people period — and while it’s fun in a whirlwind sort of way, you do find yourself clock-watching. Wondering why your fellow agents all seem to be paying you so many compliments tonight and why you sort of feel like Cinderella at the ball without a hint of the real Prince Charming, the closer it gets to midnight the more you’re thinking of just going home. The last thing you want is to glance across the ballroom at midnight and see Jack tangled up in a midnight kiss with some petite redhead or statuesque model with perfect curls. You’ll be happier skipping out early and being in your pjs with a book at midnight than you will be witnessing that.

It’s fucking infuriating to have so many people come between him and you. Every dang time he untangles himself to break in on your dance with some partner, Ginger, Tequila or Champ waylay him. He’s never had such a hard time getting to chat with you and it’s making him slowly unravel his temper. “Ah Jack, there you are.” He sighs and paints on a smile when Champ claps his back and shoves a drink in his hand. “Forgot to mention somethin’….” His eyes slide away from you laughing as you are spun around, bitter to be stonewalled again.

“Well if it ain’t the gol’dern Belle of the Ball.” The voice you hear behind you is the one person you were hoping to avoid tonight, and as you’ve just finished dancing with one of the guys from the technology department who you didn’t even think knew your name, there’s no escaping. Agent Vodka is one of those older men who doesn’t realize that James Bond is just a character and that no one drags that persona into their everyday life. He routinely ‘flirts’ with you like he’s bestowing you a huge goddamn favor for even looking in your direction, and you were genuinely hoping to avoid him tonight.

Vodka is handsome in a classical sense, some would say a silver fox, if he had a better attitude. As it stands, there’s a confused tilt to his Stetson adorned head and he rakes his eyes up and down your body in a very calculated gaze. “You musta cleaned up for hours. Getting ready for a good night.”

“Sure. I guess so.” You nod, tone polite but dismissive. Vodka has a tendency to interpret friendly as begging for hands to be put on you, and the last thing you want to do is encourage him. “Happy new year, Vodka.”

“Seems like Whiskey and I have been the only ones not with you tonight.” He intones, smirking slightly. “Guess you was savin’ the best for last, huh? Since Jack’s hangin’ all over the ladies, I’ll step in and claim this dance.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just stepping up to you and grabbing your waist.

“That’s really okay.” Reeling backward, Vodka is strong but your self-defense training is a hell of a lot better, and you twist in his grip to make sure he can’t get a solid hold on you no matter how hard he tries. “Appreciate the offer,” you huff, trying to push him away. “But I was just heading home.”

“Oh don’t be that way.” Vodka huffs and manages to pull you close. “Believe me, dancin’ ‘s just a prelude to what we can do later.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to dance with you.” You push back against him again, leveraging your elbow against his side to loosen his grip with a sharp shot to his liver. This has gone too far and is hovering on ruining the night — which has been fairly fun despite its lack of your favorite cowboy and coworker.

“Jack-“ Ginger doesn’t bother apologizing as she taps his shoulder and points out to the dance floor. “Why don’t you go save Rye?” She huffs.

At this point it’s obvious that it’s a struggle. People are giving you extra space on the dance floor as they realize what’s happening but for whatever godforsaken reason, no one has stepped in yet. Probably because they’re too shocked that Vodka has finally crossed the line into being physically inappropriate instead of just saying uncomfortable things.

“Sugar, I’m sorry I’m late for our dance.” Jack slaps his hand down on Vodka’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the fleshy muscle. Getting satisfaction from the immediate change in the man’s stance. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, do ya?” His tone is friendly, but there’s a warning woven in the words. Dark eyes turn towards you as you quickly step back from the other man’s grasp.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d keep a dame waitin’.” Vodka mumbles, all sheepishness and apology now that he realizes he’s infringed on another man’s territory.

Jack doesn’t rip into the man like he wants to, everyone else is starting to relax and resume the party. “You probably need to lay off the liquor.” He tells the other agent, not really caring for the man either.

“You forget who we work for, Daniels?” Vodka huffs, giving Jack the stink eye. “Not like you go easy, either.”

“Last time I checked, I took no for an answer, Robbins.” Jack turns his back after letting Vodka go and sweeps you into his arms, effectively dismissing him.

The room damn near erupts into applause, chattering all around you erupting out of uncomfortable silence, but you don’t hear it. You don’t even see Tonic and Champ escorting Vodka out of the ballroom with the utmost immediacy so the dressing-down can be vocal and private. All you see is Jack, and all you hear is Jack. Even as quiet as he is, the huff he gives as he scoops you up and twirls you away speaks volumes. “Jack, you—you didn’t have to—” Of course, if he hadn’t, you’re not sure you could’ve gotten away so cleanly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think a thing of it, sugar.” Although he has a few harsh words rolling around for everyone who didn’t step in. It’s like they were waiting for something. Alcohol’s done made their brains addled. “Although my own apologies for manhandling you to get you outta that sticky situation.” Even though he’s apologizing, he starts to lead you in a dance.

“I really don’t mind.” And that is the understatement of the goddamn year, as you instinctively melt against Jack the second he starts to move.

“Still…..” There’s finally a bit of happiness to the evening and he smirks down at you. “Now you can say your dance card has been filled.”

“Could’ve left Vodka off it completely,” you grumble lightly, but you still end up smiling. When Jack looks at you in almost any way you just light up from the inside. It’s instinctual.

“Don’t know what got into him.” Jack huffs, even though he’s saved you from encounters like that before.

“His namesake, most likely.” He had smelled like it, at least. A fact which added no charm whatsoever to your encounter. “Really, Jack. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Jack nods. “Sugar, you know that I know you are a capable agent. You coulda mopped the floor with him, but I’ll always give you whatever help you need.”

“I prefer not to bring hand-to-hand combat to Champ’s front door if I can help it.” If you let yourself really chew on the fancy, you could imagine Jack as rescuing you like a knight in armor. Like you were his to protect. “Not sure how much he’d appreciate that, regardless of how capable I am.”

“I think you’d find Champ more forgivin’ than you think.” He snorts, reminding himself of his own major fuck up just a few years prior. Champ had forgiven him and allowed him to regain the trust and confidence that he had destroyed through his own bling grief and rage.

“Maybe.” Jack certainly knows your boss better than you do even after several years with the agency, so you’ll differ from him. “But I’m glad to not have to find out. And…” The rest of the thought gets swallowed, and you cut your eyes away from him in embarrassment. There are some things better left unsaid and normally you’re so good at keeping your mouth shut.

“And?” Jack frowns slightly, not liking that you are holding back with him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise him, shaking your head and acting like it isn’t the biggest, most honest confession in the world from you that sets your cheeks on fire and makes you even more bashful around him. “I’m just…glad I got to dance with you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t think you were going to dance out the old year without ole Jack now, did ya?” He sounds pouty that you would even think that.

"Honestly?" Shrugging slightly even with one of his hands splayed across your back and the other holding yours tenderly against his chest, you wonder how ever you ever manage to keep a damn thing to yourself with him around when your mind just sort of seems to melt in his presence. "I was going to split and ring in the new year in my bed with the book I've been reading."

Jack frowns and shakes his head, not agreeing with your plans in the slightest. “Now that seems like a waste.” He draws. “Mighty fine night to spend readin’ a book. You should be doin’ other things.”

"Not a lot of other options to pick from," you mumble, trying to force your mind away from immediately conjuring the mental images and repeated daydreams of doing just about everything under the sun with — and to — him.

Jack wants to protest that, but the song starts to close out and you almost stop in your tracks. Obviously believing that he will end the dance now that Vodka is gone and the set is done. Instead of dropping your hands, he pulls you tighter against him. “Is that why you wore a dress like that, sugar? ‘Cause you didn’t have any options?”

"Ginger picked it out." Wrongly assuming it to be an indictment of the choice, you frown reflexively and wonder why he's still holding on to you. The trouble is over and the song is done. Shouldn't he be finding someone better to spend his time with? "I know it's...it's not right. Flapper dresses are designed for women who look the opposite of me. But she insisted on sticking to the theme."

“Opposite of you?” He makes a face of utter confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Dress looks good, fits you.” Maybe you have a shit ton of pins in the dress? His sweet wife would always have to pin her dresses to get them to fit right. Nearly every night they went out, he was helping her pin it just so.

Skinny is what you meant, but instead of saying so you just chew your lip and shake your head. Voicing that out loud would really just cement the ruination of the night and you don't want to do that. "Never mind," you insist instead. "I'm glad you like it." Even if he's just saying it to be nice, which you're sure he is, it's still nice to hear.

There’s something bugging him about the way you continuously quit talking and get around what you mean. The next song starts to play and Jack moves to that slightly faster tempo. “No one’s breakin’ in yet, sugar. So I’m keepin’ you unless you need a break?”

"No." Not from him. You would never, ever ask for a break from him. "No, I'm good." In fact, you've been so distracted by the rescue that you haven't noticed midnight creeping ever-closer. "I don't want a break."

Jack smiles, not the cocky smirk he adopts or the charming playboy facade that he uses on women like Tiffany. This is a genuine smile, one that makes his dimple show with a flash of white teeth and the crow’s feet around his eyes appear. “Then let’s dance, sugar.”

Champ chuckles when he sidles up beside Ginger with a fresh glass of champagne for each of them and his wife on his other arm, all ready to lead the midnight countdown after this song is over. "Took all damn night," he laughs to his co-conspirator. "And ya had to pull out the big gun with Vodka. But look at 'em."

“Man huffed and puffed at being used.” Ginger rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “But I promised him the Antarctic assignment. It will seem like punishment to everyone else and apparently he’s romancing one of the scientists down there.” Personally, she doesn’t see why anyone would be romanced by Vodka, but to each their own.

"It's for a damn good cause." Champ stifles a guffaw and even his wife looks amused at the way everything went down. "Everybody deserves to be happy, don't they? Even Vodka." It earns another snort from the older man and he aims a smirk at Ginger. "So what's the plan from here, Ging?"

“If Jack will get off his ass, there should be a kiss at midnight.” Ginger grins. “And maybe, just maybe, the dumbass will realize that it’s okay to want her. She wants him too.”

"Of course she does." Everybody knows that. Everybody with eyes and sense in their head, anyway. "He's just been stuck in the whole of his own grief for far too damn long. It's about time he broke free. Which is exactly why I went along with this plan of yours."

“I’m glad you did. Jack’s felt so guilty about actually developing feelings for Rye that he’s convinced himself that it’s wrong to flirt with her.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “When he breaks, it’ll be entertaining.”

"Entertaining for all of us." Grinning, Champ holds his glass out to his partner in crime in salute. "I sure as hell hope it happens right here for all of us to see."

Unaware that he’s being plotted against, Jack continues to hold you in his arms, taking you around the dance floor and trying to keep from asking too many questions that would potentially ruin his easy relationship with you. “Have you had fun? Other than Vodka? Your feet have to be killin’ you, all the dances you’ve been movin’ to.”

“It’s alright, I’ll have a hot bath and soak them. Aside from the one little interruption, everything’s been so nice.” This is the best part, without a doubt. Attention from other people is a novelty, the compliments and laughter a kind change of pace. But any time spent with Jack will always out do any other experience.

“A nice hot soak and a drink is always good to unwind.” Jack hums. “If other activities aren’t available.” The comment is warm, almost suggestive as he twists you around and then pulls you close again, feeling your softness against him and enjoying it.

It’s the worst kind of gut punch, hearing a comment like that from Jack, and your eyes are downcast when you curl back into his arms. It’s too unkind to be deliberate, but at the same time it’s such a careless comment that you just want to scream. He would never be intentionally cruel to you but the flirtatious tone of the comment is too much. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Vodka, then.”

Jack stiffens, frowning immediately and his blood pressure rises in anger. “What the fuck?” He hisses, the moment making him grip you tighter, almost the point of hurting you. “Why- you?” He’s at a loss for words right now.

“Well it’s the only offer I’ve gotten in…a year? Maybe more?” You shrug dismissively but his grip on you doesn’t allow for it, making your tone turn even more bitter in the process. He doesn’t get to get mad about who offers when he has no interest in himself. “Definitely more than a year, now that I think about it.”

“That wasn’t a goddamn offer.” He snorts. “It was a cowboy playin’ grab ass when his partner wasn’t willing.” He reminds you, dark eyes flashing angrily. “Otherwise known as assault.”

“And yet it’s still the only time any man has looked at me twice in more than a calendar year,” you hit back, practically hissing under your breath as embarrassed tears sting at your eyes. “Nobody’s exactly lining up to spend time with the fat girl except tonight which is Ginger’s doing. I know it is.” (edited)

The two of you are hissing back and forth, so preoccupied with your emotions that neither one of you are aware of the fact that the countdown for midnight has begun. The crowd around you starts to chant down from ten but Jack's too busy growling at you in anger. "Why are you so fuckin' quick to insult every goddamn person who decided to dance with you?"

“Because I know I’m right.” The two of you have never once torn into each other like this and while it breaks you’re heart, you’re so angry that lashing out is happening by instinct. It hurts so much more to be doubted by him and you can’t even express why. It’s devastating. “Do you even know what assignments they give me, Jack?” You hiss back, not hearing the shouts around you. “The ones where they need someone to be invisible! If they need someone plain and ignorable, they come straight to me. Do you know how much that fucking hurts? Because I’m good at it and that’s even worse than them just assuming. I’m excellent at not being noticed. At not being desired. It’s my fucking superpower. So no, I don’t think for a second that any of these dances were genuine moments of interest or offers for literally anything else. Because why would they be?”

His heart breaks and he's simultaneously enraged that you view yourself that way. "Five! Four! Thr—" He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck to yank you forward so your nose is less than an inch from his own. "You want a goddamn offer?" He snarls, losing all sense of reason when it comes to you and ready to prove how wrong you are. "Here's your fuckin' offer." Without another word, he drags you forward to plaster his lips against yours in an angry kiss.

It should feel terrible. It should make you so angry you slap him. It should make you feel a hell of a lot of nasty things, but instead what you feel is the undeniable melting of your own self against him, finally getting the only thing you’ve wanted since the day this infuriating cowboy sauntered into your life. Jack is firm under your hands, burning hot and intoxicatingly inviting in the way he does not pull away. You must have gotten so mad you blacked out, because this is impossible.

When you don’t push him away, when you don’t slap him, Jack growls. Using the soft sigh that you give to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with another groan as the cheers and sing of Auld Lang Syne happens all around the two of you.

Either you’ve burst a blood vessel from being so angry and ashamed or this is the best dream you’ve ever had. Jack wraps both of his arms tight around you and you cling to him, fists dig into the arm of his suit jacket and the hair on the nape of his neck as you silently beg this hallucination never to end. You can live and die in this moment and tell yourself that it was more than a dream. You can imagine this is exactly how fiercely Jack kisses when he really wants to. When he wants someone.

The kiss has turned from an angry mashing of his lips against yours to a passionate mingling of your breath and tongues. You whimper and his entire body tighten with need. Overriding the portion of his brain that is screaming that this is a bad idea, that he is bad for you and continuing to kiss you as everyone else has moved into dancing now.

Neither one of you has realized that his hat has been knocked off, or that he’s drawn you so close your back has bowed, or even that you’ve entirely given up on needing to breathe in order to never have to stop kissing him. Years of repressed desire and soul-crushingly unrequited love are just being poured into every second you spend drowning in this impossible fantasy.

“Well damn.” Champ chuckles from his position on the dance floor with his lovely wife. “Didn’t expect that long of a show. Boy don’t stop soon, he’s gonna devour her right there in the middle of the floor.”

“That’s what happens when you repress your feelings for six goddamn years,” Ginger snorts in amusement. “Should I go interrupt them?”

“No.” Champ decides with a shake of his silvery head. “Leave ‘em. Don’t want the boy to get spooked before he makes up his mind what’s gonna happen next.”

“And he will.” Ginger agrees with that completely. Jack spooks faster than a newborn foal.

“He would, where she’s concerned. Boy has his heart in it and he’s been fightin’ it.” Champ agrees as his wife chuckles. “He will figure it out.” She promises. “Rye won’t let him walk away from this with a smile and a handshake.”

“I think she’d rather die than let him go, at this rate.” The smile on Ginger’s face is soft. Glad that her friend is finally getting everything she — you — have ever wanted. It really is only oxygen that makes the two of you pull apart, panting for breath with fingers curled into each other’s flesh and clothes like you’re hanging on for dear life.

Jack’s eyes are dark and searching as he looks at you. Looking for the answer to a question and when he finds what he’s looking for, he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the dance floor.

“Jack?” The realization that that really just happened ignites a small panic in your chest and a riot in your mind, and the fact that Jack hasn’t let go of you or run off in disgust is only confusing you more.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t speak right now. The people on the floor just seem to part, moving out of his way as he guides you off the floor. He does squeeze your hand though.

“Jack?” The longer he goes without saying anything the higher the panic rises, but you cling to his hand all the way to the front door of Champ’s house where the front room has been transformed into a coat closet.

Jack doesn’t answer and spins you around to press you up against the wall, kissing you again. “Get your fuckin’ coat.” He demands roughly.

It’s a much briefer kiss but it leaves you breathless all the same, and the determination in his eyes makes you shiver and rush to obey. If this is what you’re going to get with him — just a few demanding kisses before he decides it was a mistake and turns you away? Then you’ll take it.

His hat is missing, Jack realizes when he goes to readjust it and frowns. Patting his head and looking around to see if it fell off around here, but it’s nowhere in sight. It’s a small price to pay, but he runs his hand through his hair as you rush back to his side. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t seem angry, but for the life of you there is no version of tonight that goes any further. Not in your mind. A conversation about how you shouldn’t have kissed him — or at least kissed him back, since you have a dim memory of his hand pulling you to him right before your mind went blank — or at least about how it was a mistake is bound to follow.

The second your hand is in his again, Jack is dragging you through the doors and down the stairs of the house to his Bronco. He’s parked close, thank god and he can barely get the door open before he’s grabbing your waist and practically throwing you up into the seat.

It shouldn't be a thrill to be lifted up and tossed around as though you weigh next to nothing, but there is something in Jack's singular determination and focus that tells you not to question or fight it. If he wants to manhandle you a little before whatever uncomfortable confrontation is bound to happen? Well, it's not as though you haven't literally fantasized about that scenario. At least now you have a frame of reference.

He’s holding onto his control, barely. Racing around the front of the vehicle and jumping in beside you. He can’t even talk to you as he starts the engine. Thankful that his place isn’t too far away as he throws the Bronco into gear and slings gravel as he spins out.

The most surprising part might be that he reaches for your hand as he drives. His fingers curl through yours and hold onto you on top of the gear shift, not letting you do your usual thing of shifting away or curling in on yourself in uncertainty.

There’s only two miles left to go. He grunts as he slows down to make the turn and your hand moves the shifter with him, making sure that he doesn’t squeeze it too hard as he goes through the gears.

He's driving to his own house. You've done this route yourself more times than you can count for a thousand different reasons. The apartment that you rent with your ample Statesman salary is well on the other side of Louisville and Ginger lives closer to you than to Jack, so it's not like you have any doubt where he's headed. When he pulls the Bronco down his long and winding driveway toward the large farmhouse he's called home for a decade already, your hand tightens slightly in his, nervous and wondering what will come next.

When he cuts the engine, there’s a half a second before he opens the door. Almost speaking but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s climbing out to walk around the truck to open the door.

"I wish you would say something." Even if he's helping you out of the car and holding onto your hand, you can't figure out what's going on in his head. Not having any clue is making you a little panicky the longer it goes on.

Jack stops, two steps away from the path to the front door. “Do you want to come inside?” There’s a fear that you don’t want this. That you are not on the same page as he is.

He's not angry. Or upset anymore, that you can tell. But the determination in his gaze is still there for something that you can't quite put your finger on. "Yes," you decide, nodding as you step toward both him and the house. "I do." Whatever happens, you're hopeful it won't be bad.

You said yes. Your words spur him on again and he’s off like a shot, dragging you behind him. The biometric lock is a godsend. There’s no fumbling for a key at the door as he hustles you inside and slams it behind you both, pressing you against it as he attempts to devour your mouth once more.

This was not the reaction you expected. Not in any way. Not even when he had kissed you twice at Champ’s house before hauling you over to his place with the fires of hell scorching his toes. Anybody else might have read the signals, but not you. Not with the surprised squeal you let out or the soft moan that follows it — both completely outside of your control.

You’re alone now and this time, Jack doesn’t keep his hands on your waist. Both hands grab firm handfuls of your delightful round ass and squeezes as he presses into you. His painfully hard cock grinding into the soft pouches of your hips.

Because of the complete blanket of disbelief you're living under, it takes you longer than you're proud of or will ever admit to realize what is pressing against your hip. It's the first throbbing twitch from under his perfectly tailored suit that has your eyes flying open and both of your hands pressing firmly on his shoulders, breaking the kiss as you gasp in surprise.

“What- I thought-“ Jack’s frown is one of utter confusion as he drops his hands and steps back from you. Hating the feeling of rejection and suddenly wondering if he’s made a fucking fool of himself by getting twisted in knots by a woman who doesn’t actually want him. “‘m sorry.”

"Why?" The incredulous question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the confusion marring both of your faces makes you suck in a deep breath. "I—I just—I'm surprised," you admit, as damned foolish as that makes you sound. Fucking shocked is what you are, but you don't want to be labor the point and ruin whatever is happening.

He feels foolish and embarrassed, like he’s been caught with his hand in a candy jar. Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. “You said you wanted to come in.” He reasons. “I- what did you think would happen?”

"I—I don't know," you admit, feeling even more ridiculous than he does. Your back is still against his front door, crying out loud. "I ruled out you still being mad at me after you kissed me again but I didn't think..." Gesturing at him lamely, you blow out a breath and rub at the back of your neck. "I'm not saying I want to stop, I was just surprised." If this is the only chance you're going to get with him? You're going to take it and run with it as long as it lasts.

He frowns again, wondering how you could want him and yet be surprised when he wants to take you to bed. “So what do you want, sugar? Because I’m feeling like a penny at the bottom of a pan, rattled.”

The expression cracks the tension, at least for you, and an unexpectedly bright and beaming smile graces your lips as you reach for him boldly and find to your own delight and continued surprise that he doesn't draw away. "What I want is...a long shot." It's more than that, but you're downplaying your own fears to a rather extreme degree right now. Trying to be brave. "But...what are the odds you were thinkin' about taking me upstairs?"

“House odds.” Jack rasps out, knowing that the odds are always in the house’s favor when playing at a casino. “Pondered the idea of strippin’ you down right here and making you squeal against the door, but then tossin’ you over my shoulder and haulin’ you to my large, luxurious bed also has its merits.”

You genuinely have to shut your eyes to steady yourself, exhaling long and deep and praying you aren't actually moaning out loud like you are in your head. As it stands, both images he paints have your knees weak and your body shivering. "Eith—um—either one," you manage to stammer out, eyelashes parting so hesitantly that they flutter like wings. "Either one is good."

“Sexy as you look, sugar….” Now that he knows that you are on the same page as him, a little bit of the cocky swagger is back. “Thinkin’ it’d be a goddamn shame not to spread you out.” Despite your stature, Jack tucks his shoulder and scoops you up over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, bolting for the stairs.

"Holy hell, Jack!" A nervous shout and a squeak escape you when he picks you up, and you cling to his jacket as he carries you through the house you've visited innumerable times before.

Chuckling, Jack slaps your ass with his free hand as he ambles up the stairs easily. “Don’t be nervous, sugar, I won’t drop you.”

This time you definitely do moan out loud, too taken by surprise to stop the sound or swallow it before it can come out of your mouth and you know Jack heard.

He grins to himself, slapping your ass again and is rewarded with another moan. “Mmmmhm.” He chuckles. “Rye likes a little bit of light spanking. Noted.”

"Pretty sure I'll like anything you do," you admit ruefully, though you're quickly feeling the constraints of embarrassment fall away as he reaches his bedroom door. This is real. This is really happening.

"I'll keep that in mind when I hogtie you to the bed and lick whipped cream off your body." He teases, kicking open the slightly ajar door and striding into the room to toss you down on the bed like a character in a romance novel. Right now, he doesn't know if he's supposed to be the hero or the villain, feeling a bit like both as his rough handling of you as him immediately reaching for your ankles to pull off your shoes in his eagerness to see you naked in his bed.

“See?” You huff at him, heavy breathing coming from nothing but an undeniable surplus of desire. “That actually sounds sexy coming from you.” Everything does, but his quick fingers are divesting you of your shoes and that reminds you how your Spanx is part of this undressing process — which is the single least sexy thing in the world.

Jack rips off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it down on the floor. Climbing up onto the bed and over you to press against you fully, pinning you down to the bed with a groan. Quickly capturing your lips again in a frenzied kiss.

It makes no damn sense to you, but you’re not going to question it anymore. If Jack could have literally anyone in the world but for tonight he chooses you, then you’re just going to make sure he doesn’t regret it. That decision on your part sort of pulls you out of your nervous shock, and all at once your hands are pulling open his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with enthusiasm.

“There we go.” Jack groans when you stop acting shocked and start acting. Your hands on his body makes him shake and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “Sugar.”

He could probably call you whatever he wanted and you would just go with it, but hearing him call you Sugar — that sickly sweet name he favors so much yet seems to bestow on you so rarely? It feels like you might melt so deeply into his plush mattress that you will never get up again.

Moving from your lips takes sheer willpower but he wants to explore more of you. One hand bracing on the bed and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast as he kisses down your chin and to the soft, vulnerable skin of your throat. “Driving me crazy, baby girl.” He coos, voice rough and lusty. “So goddamn pretty.”

No one who has ever met Jack would be surprised to learn how mouthy the cowboy is in bed. He’s mouthy in every other aspect of his life so frankly it would be pretty strange if this was the exception. Still, to hear those words said to you is beyond your wildest dreams. It’s surreal in the most sensational of ways. Even when you had dreamed of being with Jack, you had never dreamed of him praising you.

He groans when your fingernails bite into the skin on his chest as you hastily push the shirt opened. “Tigress, huh?” He growls, squeezing your tit again, a little harder this time and his hard cock pulses against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m just as goddamn eager as you. But ‘ole Jack likes a bit of wildness.” He bites down on your shoulder as he chuckles. “We’ll have ourselves one hell of a rodeo tonight.”

If you even knew where half this boldness came from, you might be a little embarrassed. But given the fact that you never thought this would happen, it mostly just feels like you're telling yourself not to waste the chance. Lightning never strikes the same place twice and this is your lightning strike, so you're going to lean into the whole thing if that's what he really wants. Your nails strike a path down his chest but get caught in his undershirt, a fact which makes you huff in frustration and search blindly for the hem to tear off that layer of clothing as well.

Jack groans and finally decides to give you what you want. Pulling back long enough to finish pulling his arms out of the shirt sleeves, he tears the undershirt off and throws it off the side of the bed to reveal his chest. Unable to resist pulling your dress down to pop your breast out and diving back down to wrap his mouth around a nipple.

"Oh fuck." It's a move you weren't expecting, but your back arches off the mattress instinctively to push your chest up and invite him to take and take and take — just as much as he wants to. If you were coherent enough to suggest it you would try to start wiggling out of your dress but as it is the only thing you can focus on is the heat of him surrounding you and the way every place he kisses you seems to catch on fire immediately at the press of his lips.

He suckles, bites and then licks the hard nub in his mouth like he’s gorging himself on you. Because he is. Hands searching for the zipper to your gorgeous dress. It’s beautiful, but it needs to be beautiful on his floor.

"If you want it off, you have to let me sit up," you manage to huff out, barely able to do more than pant at the way he's clearly trying to devour your tits first.

Groaning in protest, his lips are twisting in a pout as he pulls away. Panting breathlessly as he itches to launch himself at you again. “Hurry up, sugar.”

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the zipper, pulling it down and carefully undoing the clasp at the top before letting the heavily sequined cocktail dress slip off of your arms so you can maneuver it over your head. Half-naked in Jack's bed with panties so soaked you could probably wring them out is not how you expected to end this night, but here you are.

“Fuck.” Jack frowns at the tight shapewear he’s met with. “My present’s a little too wrapped for my liking, baby girl.” He hisses, curling his fingers under the layer to start stripping it off of you. “Want you naked.”

"It was the only way that dress was gonna look halfway decent," you mumble, shifting under him and definitely avoiding looking him in the face while he peels the Spanx off of you. It's a little bit too intimate even for the man you've wanted to be intimate with for years — to the point of making you feel completely naked even when you still have your bra and panties on.

He scoffs, nearly ready to whip his knife out and start slicing the material. “Bullshit.” He huffs, happy there’s just the bra and he uses two fingers to flick the four hooks open. “You don’t need nothin’.” Instead of explaining, he’s diving back into your tits while one hand dips into your panties.

“Fuck, Jack!” Instead of a tight reaction of shock, this time he’s rewarded with a moan and your legs falling open for him as the fingers of one hand dig through his thick hair to scratch along the base of his scalp. If he wants you to be bold, you’ll be bold. You’ll be whatever Jack wants as long as you just get to be in his bed for one night.

Jack moans against your tits, incredibly turned on by the pure moxy he’s always loved in you. Despite your utterly untrue view on yourself, you are sassy, sweet and sexy. That’s why he’s unable to resist now that he’s tasted you. Once he’s teased one breast enough, he switches to the other. “Gonna eat you up, sugar. Devour you whole.”

"All yours." It's sort of unintentional, the vow-like nature of the thing, but you're just being honest. You've really been Jack's since the day you met him. Even if it's taken so many damn years to get the two of you into this situation together, it's still the truth. "Whatever you want, handsome."

He groans, fingers sliding through the sweet slick that is covering your folds. “Want you.” He mumbles as he starts to slide his finger deeper, pressing against your entrance.

It's not even in your mind to ask why when he's splitting you open on two thick fingers like that, and you swear if that's how this night is starting you might actually ascend directly to some higher plain if you get to actual sex. "Ha—fuck— you have me."

“Mmmmmm.” He licks your nipple “Not yet.” He pouts, pulling his fingers back out of you to plunge them in again. “But I will, sugar. Cum for me and then I’ll have you like I’ve been dreamin’.”

The curse you groan out is nearly incoherent, more of an agreement than anything else but you'll be damned if you let this moment be anything less than memorable for both of you. Jack hovers over you and you wind your arms around him to encourage him to continue sucking on your tits while his fingers piston in and out of your pussy with determination. You know it won't take too much longer before your legs start to shake, and as if Jack knows it just as intuitively, he curls his fingers inside you and you gasp out a moan of his name.

His teeth nip at your sensitive flesh as he hisses. Feeling how tight your pussy squeezes his fingers and imagines his cock inside you. Tight and fucking scorching hot, just like he had imagined with his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower. “That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos before he sucks on your nipple again. Moaning when you arch up, writhing under him and making the prettiest, most desperate sounds he’s heard in a long time.

No one who has ever been in this bed has ever left it with any remaining doubts about Jack’s skills as a lover, and while you knew that before? Now you understand it oh-so-very deeply. His fingers pump into you mercilessly, curling at just the right angle to make you cry out in pleasure in every pass, and yet somehow he’s managed to keep the angle of that curl perfect while still holding them apart — stretching your eager pussy open and making sure you’re ready to take every inch of him. All of those intricacies combine with the dedication attention he is lavishing on your tits, and when the tense coil of restraint in your belly snaps it explodes into a thousand white-hot stars behind your eyes as you cum for him.

You’re gorgeous when you fall apart, just like he knew you would be. Keeping his fingers moving, he watches, enthralled with you as you cry out his name in a pitch that has his cock throbbing. The hot gush of your pleasure makes his fingers squelch inside you and he groans out your name while he starts to slow down the rhythm of his hand, letting you float down from your orgasm, drawing it out for you.

“Holy hell…” When your eyes open again you’re completely boneless beneath him, giggling softly at the light-as-air feeling in your body that never ever feels lighter than anything.

Dragging his wet fingers out of your cunt is his own personal kind of hell, but the urge to taste you is too great. Watching you with dark eyes as he slips his two fingers into his mouth with a lusty groan.

“Take your pants off.” The way you groan it is nearly an order but you definitely meant it to be begging, though at this point you don’t care. Especially when he arches an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Take your fucking pants off, Jack.”

Chuckling, he shuffles off the bed to oblige you. “Never let it be said I don’t follow orders, sugar.” He winks as he kicks off the tuxedo pants and hooks his fingers into his boxer briefs. “These too?”

“The fact that you even wear underwear is a shock,” you tease, motioning for him to continue stripping and trying — but probably not succeeding — to not stare.

He smirks. “Had to contain the beast for once.” He winks as he drags the tight material down. “Don’t wear ‘em normally.”

The Beast is probably as good a name as any, and you have to swallow a groan when he frees his throbbing cock — already damp with precum. It’s a wonder he can contain it, and you’re caught in between wanting to bend forward and taste him or just lying back for him to have his way with you. Curiosity and a curtain of lust win out on the short struggle, and you lean forward to take the purple head of his cock in your mouth just after he climbs back onto the bed.

“Fuck!” Jack moans out loudly and pushes your head away gently after a moment. “Baby, baby…” he pants. “You keep that up and this rodeo will be over before it starts.”

“Sorry…” Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you shift back to get under his blankets. “I just had to know…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jack huffs. Kneeling on the bed and pulling the covers away as you hide your body away from his eyes. “Just don’t want to embarrass myself by blowing my load because of your pretty mouth before I can hear you scream my name.”

“I already have,” you remind him, a softness in your tone belied by the heat in both of your eyes. “Guess I might have to be a little louder this time.”

“Only if it’s right in my ear.” Jack wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it as he reaches for your thigh. “Buried deep inside that little cunt and feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

It goes without saying that you’re both clean. All Statesman agents are required to have clean bills of health in order to be on the roster for missions and you’re both active agents. “I—have an IUD.” Is what you tell him instead, shivering a little at the reality of what is about to happen.

Eyes lighting up in delight, Jack’s lips curl up. “Oh sugar, it’s not my birthday yet, why are you showerin’ me with presents?” He coos, sliding his hand up and down your ample thigh. “Pretty as a damn picture.”

The real answer is that you’re desperate to feel him, but you just smirk instead, not wanting to get your heart more involved than it already is. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’ll be damned if we stop now because of it.”

“If you want me to get one…” Jack motions back to his pants. “I have one in my wallet.”

“I don’t want the barrier,” you admit, biting your lip at the extremely vulnerable nature of that confession. “If it’s okay with you.”

His smirk turns into a wicked grin. “You read my mind, sugar. I want to feel all of you.”

You could make a joke about how much of you there is to feel, but just this once you stifle the urge. Opting instead to reach out and gently cup Jack's cheeks in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”

As you lean back, Jack follows you. Climbing up your body and groaning as he settles between your thighs. “You want to cum again, pretty girl?”

"Not without you this time." The reality of Jack is better than anything you thought so far. Since this miracle is surely once in a lifetime, you want it to be as amazing as possible.

Jack groans your name, pressing his lips to yours in another hot, wet kiss. Passionate and consuming as he pushes an arm underneath you. “I’m right here with you.”

As impossible as it seems, he really is. He is right there with you, taking you in his arms and making you feel delicate and desirable for the first real time in your entire adult life.

He doesn’t rush, although he wants to. Every kiss is slow and thorough. Reaching down between you to take hold of himself to notch at your entrance. “Hold on, sugar. See if we can ride for longer than eight seconds.”

“I’m not gonna buck you, Jack.” You can promise him that, because you know damn well you’re going to hold onto this moment for dear life and not question the gift that it is. This one little shining moment is just for the two of you and you’re never going to forget a single second of it.

His eyes are watching, burning into yours as he starts to slowly rock his hips forward. Breaking you open with the first inch of his cock and swooping in to kiss you again when you gasp.

The world slows down, motions stretching into time and blending together in ways that you can’t quite wrap your head around so all you know in this moment is Jack. Every time he thrusts forward again your moans get that much deeper, until on the final experimental rock of his hips, he is seated fully inside you and you feel so spellbound and grateful for the moment that you’re all but sure you could cry. Instead you pour yourself into kissing him, rocking your own hips slightly to take him more comfortably and adjust to the weighty feeling of having him inside you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”

Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”

“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”

“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.

“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.

He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.

Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.

If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.

It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)

His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”

“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.

Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”

"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."

“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”

A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.

Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”

You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.

Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.

There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.

The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”

He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."

His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.

That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”

There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.

“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.

"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.

******

"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.

"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.

“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”

"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."

Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.

"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."

There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”

The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."

“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.

"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.

“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”

“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.

******

Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.

Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.

“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.

“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.

Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”

“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”

“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”

“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.

His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”

“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”

“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”

“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”

Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.

******

It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.

He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.

“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”

Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.

“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”

“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”

Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.

Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.

It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”

“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.

“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”

“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”

“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.

“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.

The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.

“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.

He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”

Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”

Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”

“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”

“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”

“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”

“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”

“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”

“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”

“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”

“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”

Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.

Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”

Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”

“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”

Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.

“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”

“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”

“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”

“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”

He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”

“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.

Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”

“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.

“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”

“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”

“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”

Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”

“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”

“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”

“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”

“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”

“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack Daniels x plus size reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Kingsman Golden Circle #new years eve #new years fic #idiots in love #pining #the love is requited they're just dumb

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psychedelic-ink · 5 months

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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader x jack daniels

genre: smut, minors dni, dude ranch au, modern au

word count: 7.7k

summary: joel challenges jack to make you into the finest there possibly is in two days.

warnings: threesome (mfm), mlm dynamics, some jealousy, outdoor sex, piv, oral sex, dirty talking

a/n: happy birthday @fuckyeahdindjarin 🎉 I hope you enjoy you slutty cowboys--both of them nearly gave me a heart-attack while writing ❤️‍🔥 this gif was made my the lovely @pedrorascal who I am so grateful for helping me out preparing your this bday surprise!

**dividers by @saradika

You take a breath and sneak out of the cozy room. It had been hard parting away from your cozy bed. The warmth provided by the hand-knitted blanket and the scent of delicious wood made you want to never leave. They’ve really done a great job decorating the rooms of the dude ranch. It still holds the Western theme you love, but it's also adorned with rustic charm, from the weathered leather furniture to the handcrafted wooden accents, creating a welcoming atmosphere.

It had been a couple of days since your arrival. You were tired of... well, everything and desperately needed an out. You wish you could say that it happened like in the movies— a divine sign that made you come here, but no. There was no divine intervention, no mysterious flyer sticking to your face. You had to do an endless amount of research to find the perfect place, and when you were done, you picked the ranch that had the least foot traffic. You were running away from people. Choosing the most touristy one would defeat the purpose—you wanted to be alone.

And you were glad that you did. The place was amazing. Surrounded by large mountains and wide fields. This place wasn’t so people would come and see what was what. It was an actual ranch with actual people working all the time. Accepting guests was the side hustle and not the other way around.

There were two cowboys that you constantly saw: Joel Miller and Jack Daniels. Both charming, both handsome enough to make you want to scream. Jack had been personally assigned to you, but Joel was always around, watching, observing, and, of course, running his mouth. You’ve grown accustomed to their odd friendship... rivalry? It was actually kind of cute to see Jack turn all red whenever Joel said something to undermine him. And the other seemed to know that well.

Two talented cowboys. And you, who had no idea what the hell you were doing.

Which is why you were escaping your room like some kind of criminal at the brink of dawn. Joel’s teasing wasn’t only reserved for Jack, you got your fair share as well and it was even worse when Jack chimed in—the two seasoned horse riders letting you know just how out of your element you were. You needed to train without those two constantly spitting quips your way.

You silently make your way to the stables and blindly reach out towards Honeydust, the palomino Jack had gotten you accustomed to. You gently guide her away from the other horses. The rose-pink light of dawn has begun to trickle through the open windows, painting Honeydust’s coat in a gorgeous hue. You regret not bringing your phone; you would’ve loved to show Jack and Joel later on.

“Alright girl,” you mutter as you pat the side of her face. She whinnies slightly and digs her hoof into the ground. “It’s you and me. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

As you reach for the saddle, you smile to yourself. You might not be that good at horse riding yet but you did learn some things—like the value of a good saddle. You take a moment to inhale the scent of it— a mix of leather, hay, and a hint of earthiness.

Honeydust stands patiently, seemingly aware of your fumbling attempts to secure the saddle. You take a deep breath, remembering the lessons Jack patiently gave you about saddling up. Slowly but surely, you manage to get everything in place. As you tighten the cinch, you feel a sense of accomplishment. A week ago, you hadn’t been able to do this. Maybe you're not a full-on cowboy, but you're determined to learn the ropes.

With the saddle secured, you grab the reins and lead Honeydust out of the stable, into the cool morning air. The sky is a canvas of pastel colors—blues, pinks, and golds blending together as the sun inches higher. It's a breathtaking sight. You pat Honeydust on the muzzle and press your cheek against her, watching the sky.

“Isn’t it beautiful,” you whisper to her. “Honestly I’m gonna hate going back. It’s been a couple of days and I’m already attached to this place.”

Honeydust snorts and shakes her head. You smile wide as you pat her again, “You’re right. No room for sentimentality.”

Mounting Honeydust, you settle into the saddle, adjusting to the feel of it beneath you. The quiet creak of leather is drowned out by the sounds of the waking ranch. Birds chirp in the distance, and you take a deep breath, your lungs filling with the fresh scent of the outdoors—

But then you’re slipping.

And then falling.

With a loud, sharp gasp, you find yourself unexpectedly upside down beneath Honeydust's belly. Panic sets in as you register the proximity of her powerful legs, your eyes widen, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. Honeydust remains still, your body still miraculously hanging to the saddle.

Your heartbeat starts to slow, you take a deep breath. You’re fine. You’re okay. You just forgot to fasten one of the belts.

“Need any help there, sweetheart?”

Fuck. Busted.

“I’m fine,” you answer, emphasizing the latter. Jean-clad legs come into view. “Just. . . trying a new riding style.”

“Is that so?” Joel drawls, amusement dripping with every word. “And what would you call this one? The hangin’ fool?”

“Rude.”

His hips cock to the side and you see him placing both hands on his narrow hips, “Would it be better if I called it the hangin’ beauty?”

“Yes actually, it would.”

Your cheeks warm as he steps closer. You try not to stare, or perhaps that’s just you lying to yourself, but whatever your true intention was your eyes linger right over his crotch. Even with the thick jeans and the belt buckle, you know he’s packing underneath there. You can especially tell now since this is the closest you’ve ever been to it. Your mouth waters. Your brain delving further into sinful imagination when his low chuckle echoes in your ear.

“A’right then beautiful, let’s get you out here.” he stops for a beat, his knuckles brushing down the outer part of your leg. You shudder, your legs tighten around Honeydust. “Unless you wanna show me this new ridin’ style of yours?”

“You know what, I think I’ll take a rain check on that.” your voice is shrill and pitchy. Your eyes start to throb. “Especially since all the blood in my body is currently in my head.”

“Oh shit—Okay, just gimme a sec.” he slides his hands under your armpits. “A’right now let go.”

“What?”

“Just let go, sweetheart. I got you. You’ll be okay, promise.”

With a sharp breath, you close your eyes and loosen your legs. Joel's arms wrap further beneath yours, drawing you closer. You feel the tightening of his biceps, feel the huff of his breath against your cheek. He takes a step back and suddenly unbalanced, he falls backward, pulling you along.

With a huff, Joel lands on his ass, and you find yourself comfortably nestled against his chest. It takes you only a second for your gaze to find his. You hold your breath and so does he. His hand pleasantly curls around your waist, keeping you from moving away. His chest is firm under your own, your nipples tightening when you shift a bit, the graze of fabric makes you shudder.

His other hand comes to brush a strand of loose hair behind your ear. You swallow not once but twice. The warmth of Joel’s palm cradles your cheek and a slow breath exits your lungs.

“You a’right?”

“Y—Yeah. . . thanks for helping me out.”

“My pleasure.” His voice is deep, hoarse even, and it scratches your ears just right. You find yourself drawn to him. Your eyes dropping to his lips and back up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. His lips part. The divot in the middle of his bottom lip more prominent than ever. You lean in without a thought, he mimics you, coming in closer and closer. Your chest heaves. Your heart beating madly against your chest.

“What the hell are you two doin’ canoodling here?”

You jerk away, your eyes lingering on Joel long enough to see the disappointment in his gaze. His eyes close slowly and he takes a ragged breath. Shifting slightly you see Jack holding a hay bale. His eyes are narrowed, his brows knitted together as his gaze flits between you and Joel. You chew the inside of your cheek, embarrassment heating you from the inside out.

“We ain’t canoodlin’,” Joel answers, agitated. “I found her hanging upside down under Honeydust’s belly. Who’s fault do you think is that?”

Jack’s mouth opens and closes, his cheeks suddenly flushed. His gloved hands tighten around the hay as he pushes it up his arms. Then finally, with a softened gaze, he turns to you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you reply, your heart currently beating in your throat. “I just forgot to fasten the other side of the saddle.”

Joel squeezes your waist and you’re suddenly hyper-aware that you’re basically on his lap still. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You have a shit teacher.”

“Excuse me?” Jack’s tone is enough to have you scrambling off of Joel’s lap. If looks could kill, Joel would be dead right now. On your feet, you move towards Honeydust, and with great comfort, she nuzzles your chest. Joel smiles lazily when Jack drops the bale of hay and walks up to him. “You better take that back, old man.”

“Yeah?” his eyes glow with mirth. “Make me.”

Involuntarily you cover your mouth with a hand. Is it bad that you’re secretly enjoying this? The amount of testosterone in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife.

Joel slowly gets up, as if he has all the time in the world, and faces Jack. He’s slightly taller than the latter, smile still tugging at his lips as he tilts his head ever so slightly down. Jack’s nostrils flare.

“You want me to knock you out in front of our guest?”

“I’d love to see you try.”

Joel takes another step closer, his chest nearly flushed against the other, he jerks his head to the side and places his hands on his hips. You swear you see Jack’s skin darkening with a deep shade of red from his chest to his neck. His jaw is wired tight, the muscle there twitching.

“How about this,” Joel grins. “You manage to make our sweet girl here a full-on cowgirl in two days and I’ll eat my words right outta your hand, Whiskey.”

Jack huffs and clicks his tongue, “Don’t call me that.”

“It’s your name isn’t it?”

“It ain’t and you know it.”

“Your parents shouldn’t have named you Jack Daniels,” Joel rolls his eyes, “Do we have a deal or not?”

You hold your breath when Joel extends a hand. Jack’s eyes briefly find yours, his fingers twitching. The morning chill is still in the air and despite it, beads of sweat appear on your skin. Two days. Two days and you still don’t know how to put on a saddle right. With a small shake, you attempt to warn Jack but that only makes him smile.

He turns to Joel, “Deal,” he answers, taking his hand. “Two days. Be ready to eat your words, old man.”

They shake on it and as they do Joel gives you a not so subtle wink. It reminds you of just how close the two of you were a mere couple of minutes ago. You avert your gaze, suddenly shy to face him, and think about what might’ve happened if Jack hadn’t interrupted.

When Joel leaves, Jack lets out a long sigh and turns to you.

“You slipped, darlin’, really?”

“In my defense, it was early.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He shakes his head but you see the way his lips curl upwards ever so slightly. “Anyway, wait for me here and I’ll be right back. We gotta get you into tip-top shape because I ain’t gonna lose to Joel.”

“I warned you, you know,” you softly kick the dirt with the tip of your boot.

Jack’s tongue moves over his bottom lip, a shudder crawls up your spine and heat pools between your legs. He grips the bale of hay and throws it over his shoulder.

“That’s why I accepted the challenge, sugar. No guest of mine is gonna leave here without feelin’ like they can conquer the world.”

“Jack this is impossible I’m never going to get the hang of this.”

“With that attitude you sure ain’t gonna.”

With a crooked smile, Jack watches as you draw your shoulders together and stomp your boot against the soil. The lasso is tight between your fingers, the tips of which are chafed from turning the lasso again and again in an attempt to loop the rope around one of the wooden posts. He tilts his head to the side when you turn to him, a pleading expression etched onto your beautiful face.

"This is never going to happen," you huff. However, instead of keeping his eyes locked on yours, his gaze drops to where your flannel hugs your breasts, the poor buttons struggling to keep it all together. His cock swells at the thought of licking them, sucking on your hard nipples while the sweetest noises flee from your lips. "Jack?"

He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s been staring at your gorgeous tits, he drags his gaze back slowly, his smile only growing upon seeing your parted lips and glazed eyes. “Yeah, sugar?”

“We’re never going to win this thing with Joel,” you say and he doesn’t fail to notice how breathless you suddenly are. “How am I supposed to learn to do everything a cowboy can in two days? Seems a bit unfair.”

“Not everythin’,” he struts towards you and peels the lasso from your fingers. “We just need to cover the basics. No one is expectin’ you to catch a knife in mid-air with a lasso.”

Your brows furrow, “What? You’re saying you can actually do that?”

“‘Course I can,” he chirps back. “Unlike you, I’m a top-notch cowboy.”

His heart breaks a little when he sees how defeated you look, with a small nudge to your shoulder, he draws your gaze back to him. “Want me to show you again darlin’?”

“Sure but I’m not sure it’ll do me any good. I’m horrible at this.”

With a reassuring grin, Jack steps back, unwinding the lasso he took from you. He takes a moment to adjust the coils and then demonstrates the art of lassoing, the rope flying through the air in a graceful arc before landing perfectly around a wooden post.

“You see, it's all in the wrist,” he explains as he smoothly tightens the loop, making it look deceptively easy. He repeats the motion a couple of times, each throw precise and controlled.

“You know who’s really good at this?” he asks, returning his attention to you. “Joel.”

You snort, “I feel like that man is good at everything. But I’m not sure why you’re telling me that.”

“Well, you know who used to suck at it—me.”

“You?” you raise a sole eyebrow, and a teasing smile touches your lips. “You who can catch a knife in the air, supposedly, that is.”

“It takes a lot of practice, sugar. That's what I’m tryin’ to tell ya. I sucked at it. Couldn’t even do one loop. Then the old timer helped me out.”

“Joel?”

Yup," he says, noticing your shock. He had been shocked too when the man had shown him how to properly do it. It was both amazing and terrifying. Jack had never had someone care about him enough to actually show him how it's done instead of letting him struggle on his own. "And eventually, I got the hang of it. So will you.”

You smile wholeheartedly and take the lasso from him, “Thanks, Jack. I. . . I appreciate it. You actually really respect him, don’t you? Despite all the banter and arguing.”

“That’s just how I show love, darlin’.”

“You never argue with me.”

His eyebrows tilt up, along with the corner of his lips. You avert your eyes as you loosely hold the rope in your hand, the exercise quickly forgotten. Jack closes the distance until there's only a breath of space between you two. He entertains the idea of lifting your head by the chin, forcing your gaze upon him, but he refrains. He wants you to listen to him and oblige.

“Look at me, darlin’,” His eyes shine with delight when you do, he leans closer. “You want me to fight you?”

Your brows furrow, your lips forming the most adorable pout, “No. Of course not.”

“You sure?” This time he does cup your cheek to keep your gaze fixed on him. His pinkies move towards your neck, drawing soft patterns up and down your skin. You visibly shudder, a soft breath escaping your lips. “I see how you watch when Joel and I start to bitch and moan at each other, sugar. You sure you’re not into it even a little?”

He knows your answer. But he allows you to giggle and escape his hold anyway. “You’re ridiculous,” you say and as a response Jack wants to touch on the fact that you can’t look at him anymore, however, he’ll allow you to escape him for now.

“Come on then, now that you got your giggles on, let’s see you at least pull in one of those cones.”

While you attempt to just do that, Jack ends up regretting teasing you because he ends up thinking about Joel instead. It’s hard to admit that the constant bickering is the obvious telltale sign of something more. And he knows there’s something. Joel only weaponizes his tongue when you’re around. Or someone else for that matter. But when it’s just the two of them it’s different. It’s lingering touches and heavy scotch-filled conversations. Sometimes Joel would even whisper so he wouldn’t wake the others. Jack shivers as he remembers how Joel’s lips felt against the shell of his ear. Downright sinful.

It always remained at that, however. Touches and looks and talks. Nothing more and nothing less.

“Jack,” you say, your voice drawing him away from thoughts he’s happy to be drawn away from. “How did you end up here? Like with Joel and the rest.”

“It’s not much of a story. I was lookin’ for a job and came here lookin’ for one.” He lifts his hat and combs his hair back with his fingers. “I actually met Tommy first. Joel doesn’t like the hiring process and says his younger brother is a better judge of character. I met him after I was hired. Then I met the little munchkins.”

“You mean Sarah and Ellie?”

“Yes ma’am I do,” he reaches forward, letting his fingers nearly brush yours. He chuckles, "I also know what you're doing, so stop stalling and throw the damn lasso already."

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and all Jack wants to do is pry it away from the sharp edges, "Oh, are we arguing? Should I add this moment to my journal?” you manage to lock your gaze with his, a grin spreading across your face. “Does this mean you love me?"

He takes a step closer, leaning ever so slightly into your personal space. A hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, he breathes, "How 'bout this? You throw that rope, and I'll kiss you, sweetheart. Then you’ll really know what I feel."

Your eyes widen, "You’ll... excuse me?"

A wicked glint in his eyes, he quips, "I'll kiss you, full-blown on the lips. And believe me, it'll be my pleasure to lay one on you."

"Just throw the rope? Aren't you selling a bit short?"

Jack takes another step towards you and you can feel the heat radiating from him. His voice low and husky, he counters, "Fine then, manage to actually lasso something, and then I'll kiss you."

"You're mean. You said you'd only do it if I threw it." You challenge him by taking a step closer and he’s delighted to see it.

Cupping her face in his hands, he grins, "Changed my mind. And you have yourself to blame for it."

With all his heart Jack wishes for you to make the throw. Something primal and ugly in him finds extreme joy in being the one to kiss you first. He hated to admit it, but his heart broke a little when he found you and Joel together, lips almost about to touch. He hated feeling like an outsider. Especially when it came from Joel.

With a determined glint in your eyes, you take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Gripping the lasso in your hands, you start to swing it in a circular motion above your head. It’s sloppy and uneven but he can see how much care you’ve put into your stance. Jack watches intently, noting the way you shift your weight from one food to another, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

As the lasso gains momentum, you release it at just the right moment. It sails through the air, forming a perfect loop. Jack's eyes follow its trajectory, silently urging it to find its mark. The loop descends gracefully, and, with a satisfying thud, it settles around a nearby plastic cone and you pull it towards yourself, the plastic moving with ease.

A triumphant grin breaks across your face as you complete the throw. “I did it,” you gasp in a low tone, panting. Your head suddenly snaps towards him, a shit-eating grin plastered over your perfect lips. “I DID IT!”

Jack only smiles as he leans in and cradles your face in a rush. He crashes into you, lips meeting yours in an eager, lingering kiss. He teases the seam of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. Just a brief preview of how badly he wants this to happen. His hands slip to your ass, kneading the plump flesh, his cock stiffens at how you moan into his mouth. You press against him and Jack can’t help but roll his hips to feel more of you. It’s been so long. Too long since he felt something warm and tight around his cock.

He parts away by dragging his lips down to your chin and from there to your neck. He nips at your pulse, feeling it beating against his mouth.

“Jack,” you breathe. “I—Wow—”

“Kissin’ is one thing I’m better at,” he chuckles deeply into your ear. “Among other things.”

He holds you by the neck and gently pulls away. He can’t get enough of the expression you’re giving him; pupils blown and lips slightly parted. Your chest heaves heavily, your pulse beating wildly under his palm. Jack brushes your lips together, smiling upon hearing you whimper.

“Now, throw that lasso again and I’ll give you another kiss.”

And it all comes down to horse riding. You should be surprised but you’re not.

The sun was finally setting over the ranch. A subtle chill settling at the base of your snake as the sun went down. It had been a tiring day full of lasso throwing, ax throwing, and knotting. Your back ached and when the final challenge finally befell you all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep. The only thing that gave you an ounce of energy was Jack’s proud smile after every challenge that was won. Joel seemed genuinely impressed. And you were genuinely surprised to find yourself acing every task. Seeing how smug Jack got made your heart flutter and stomach draw tight.

The two of you had done a lot of kissing that day. It hadn’t gone any further but deep down you really wanted it to.

You feel a deep sense of Deja Vu when you find yourself staring at Honeydust with a saddle in hand. You take a deep breath, fingers tightening around the leather. The open air gives you a sense of calm, the cloudy sky a pleasure to gaze upon.

Jack touches the small of your back, goosebumps rising across your skin at the gentle touch, “You got this darlin’ don’t worry so much.”

You briefly glance at the track Joel and Jack had set up for you. Wooden fences stand tall at various intervals, creating a series of jumps that make you sweat just by thinking about them. Your eyes linger on the strategically placed cones that form a zigzag pattern.

“Honestly no matter what happens I’m impressed,” Joel cuts in, cupping Honeydust’s cheek. Your gaze moves deftly from the track to the man standing before you. As always, he looks amazing in his red and yellow flannel. “You’ve done well sweetheart.”

“Maybe you should just forfeit and accept we won then,” you answer, smiling. Joel shakes his head.

“Someone is sure of herself.”

“Hell yeah, I am.”

“Look at that,” Jack pipes. “Soundin’ like a true cowboy already.”

You expertly secure the saddle onto Honeydust's back. The leather feels cool beneath your fingertips as you tighten the straps, ensuring a snug fit. Adjusting the stirrups, you make sure they're the perfect length for your legs. As you stand beside the horse, you can feel the intensity of Joel and Jack's gazes on you. Their eyes trace the curves of your movements, a subtle tension lingering in the air.

With everything in place, you take a deliberate breath and swing yourself onto the saddle. The leather creaks slightly under your weight as you settle into position. Honeydust shifts beneath you. You catch Joel's gaze, and a sly smirk plays on his lips. His eyes linger a moment longer than necessary, you let out a puff of air, your legs tighten around Honeydust..

"Remember, just go with the flow. You and Honeydust are a team," Jack advises and with that, you head off.

Gently nudging your heels against the horse's side, you urge Honeydust into a graceful gallop around the track. The steadying thud of her hooves pounding against the dirt creates a harmony that molds with the song of the wind, transporting you to a place of serenity. Each hurdle makes your heart jump with excitement. The jumps seem impossible at times. As you zigzag through the cones, you can feel Honeydust's muscles tense and relax under your hands, transitioning from one step to the next with the gracefulness of a dance—

A sudden jolt disrupts the rhythm, and you find yourself tumbling to the ground. You let out a deep groan as your back hits the earth and with the corner of your eye, you see Joel taking hold of Honeydust’s reins, calming the poor palomino. Jack’s face comes into vision a second later.

"You okay, darlin'?" When you nod and begin to get up, his worry turns to frustration as he glances at Joel. "This was supposed to be about teaching, not pushing her to the damn limit."

"I didn't mean for her to fall, Jack. So don’t act like that was my intention."

“No, your intention was to make me look like I don’t know what I’m doin’.”

Jack, eyes still glued on Joel, helps you up. Your head is still spinning a little from the adrenaline rush but other than that you feel fine. Your eyes flitting between both men, your stomach twists and turns at how they’re both glaring at each other. This time is different from the arguments. This time they both genuinely look like they’re about to explode. Joel has his jaw tight while Jack has both hands in tight fists. “Guys. . .”

"Why you gotta make everythin’ personal?" Joel snaps, ignoring you all together. “It was just meant to be a harmless bet.”

Jack's eyes narrow, he tears his hand away from yours and your heart drops, "You're the one who makes it damn personal by goadin’ me all the damn time."

“That’s. . .” Joel’s eyes grow soft, his demeanor changing entirely. You watch the furrow between his brows relax, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “I’m—”

“Can it,” Jack hisses through gritted teeth and raises a hand. “I don’t want your apology, I just wanna go. Unless you think I’m gonna be bad at that too.”

You reach out, head still spinning, your fingers graze the back of his jacket and he slips from between your grasp. You part your lips to call out to him. To tell him to come back. But Joel takes a hold of your hand and lowers it with the shake of his head.

“I know where he’s goin’. Let’s go.”

“Are you telling me he has a brooding spot?”

“He does.”

The sun had set. The crickets now singing under the starry night, but Joel can't focus on any of it. He can’t because he might’ve actually screwed everything up for good this time— which would be typical of him.

After months of contemplating whether he should take the next step or not, he’d finally made Jack snap. That had never been Joel’s intention, obviously. But he wasn’t the best at flirting. Never had been. And when Jack came into his life, all fresh faced and a lashing tongue, he couldn’t help but fall for him a little.

You’re walking just a little bit behind him, trying to keep up. He can feel you staring at him. Your eyes curious like a newborn gazelle’s.

“If you stare any harder I’m gonna start blushin’ sweetheart.”

“I’m. . . I wasn’t. . .”

“Sure you were,” he sighs. “It wasn’t my intention to be hard on him you know. It just. . . sorta happens. I care a lot about him and I just want him to. . . “ He clamps his mouth shut. What was he supposed to say? How he was hoping that all the teasing would finally push Jack into his arms? How he wanted to do more than touch Jack when he knew no one else could see.

“You want him to. . . what exactly?”

“I don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s complicated between us.”

“You both have a crush on each other and don’t know what to do about it. It’s not that complicated.”

Joel’s mouth opens and closes— then opens again. “And how the hell do you know that?”

“Because he talks about you a lot,” you answer with a soft smile. “He said he cares about you. And about your opinion.” Joel’s eyes narrow as you rub the back of your head, your eyes dropping to where you would be taking your next step. “I just don't know where I fit in all of this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You and I almost kissed,” you say finger moving between you two. “Jack and I actually kissed. And well. . . I don’t want to get in the middle of anything. It might be a bit sudden but I like you guys, I care about you, and want you guys to be together if that’s what you want.”

“It’s not your job to worry about us.” Joel huffs, his guilt gnawing at him. “But I get what you mean. We. . . we didn’t intend to put you in that position. I can assure you this wasn’t some twisted game we were tryin' to play. I can't talk for Jack but I care about you. And I care about him if that makes sense. But I fear that me being emotionally constipated might’ve ruined it with him. He gets mad every time I open my mouth.”

“That’s because you tease him all the time and honestly he’s not doing any better than you.” Joel’s eyes go wide when you suddenly cradle his cheeks and bring his face towards your own. “And you haven't ruined anything Mr. Miller. You just need to tell him exactly what you’ve been telling me.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Before he can reach he feels the soft touch of your lips. You kiss him slowly—tenderly. Joel follows your lead, parting his lips, he allows you to slip your tongue inside. He sucks on your tongue, enjoying the way your body presses against his.

When you pull back, you’re completely dazed.

“Now what was that for?” he asks.

“To keep everything even” you answer, smiling. “Now let's go get our brooding cowboy.”

It doesn’t take long for that to happen. They find Jack sitting on the ground, his back pressed snugly against the wooden fence. He’s staring at the stars. The gentle light streaming down his face and down his neck, Joel’s heart skips a beat at the sight and he feels as though he can’t breathe.

Only when they walk closer does he notice the bottle of whiskey. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a swig, Joel’s eyes follow the way drops of amber trickle down his sun-kissed skin.

All Joel wants to do is lick the bitter drop off of him.

The two stop before him. Neither of you knowing what to do or what to say. Joel attempts to apologize by parting his lips and that is the exact moment where Jack finally meets his gaze.

“I know,” he says curtly. “Sit.” Jack extends the bottle of whiskey. Joel, without a word, sits down and takes the bottle. Just as he’s taking a swig, he notices you’re about to leave. Thankfully Jack stops that from coming to fruition. “And where do you think you’re goin’? Sit your ass over here.”

Joel almost cackles at how shocked you look. With the tiniest yelp escaping your lips you sit down right next to Jack. Taking a mouthful of whiskey, Joel extends you the bottle. You take it and chug it down immediately—Jack snorts and finally Joel feels comfortable enough to laugh alongside him.

“Calm down darlin’, it ain’t runnin’ away.”

“Sorry,” you hiccup, shoving the bottle into Jack’s chest. “I’m nervous.”

“Well, don’t be,” Jack sighs and his head falls back against the fence. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I—”

“We know,” Joel says with a fond smile. He throws his arm over Jack’s shoulder and cups the back of his head, his hat tumbling to the ground—it was now or never.

For the first time, Joel brings their faces together without the tease of what he might or might not do. He kisses Jack tenderly, softly. Just like how he wanted to treat him during all those nights they were alone together. Jack digs his fingers into Joel’s shirt, nails nearly biting into the skin. Much to Joel’s surprise, the other man tastes sweet. Their tongues move together, still unsure but eager to explore.

When Joel opens his eyes ever so slightly, he sees you staring in awe.

He nearly breaks away laughing. But also, he can’t really blame you for your expression.

It really does feel magical.

You hold your breath. Every nerve ending you have is buzzing with want and arousal. The space between your legs pulsing as you watch Joel tilting his head, slipping his tongue through Jack’s eager lips. Deep down you feel like you’re intruding. That this is a tender moment that should just be between the two men but you can’t help but stay there, like a deer in headlights, watching.

You shudder at the sound of Jack moaning, his hands grip Joel’s shoulder and host himself up the older man’s lap. He grinds down, swallowing Joel’s gasps, he parts away, a trail of saliva connecting the two. You’re still holding your breath. The tips of your fingers numb, your brain a whirlwind as it registers the sight before you.

“Stupid old man,” Jack rasps, tilting his head to the side. “Gettin’ all sappy.” Then his heavy gaze finds your struck ones. He reaches out and in a dream-like state you take his hand, his fingers hastily close around your wrist and tugs you towards him. Your gasp is caught in your throat when he kisses you. The taste of Joel and whiskey still heavy on his tongue.

A hand that doesn’t belong to Jack trails up the curve of your ass and squeezes. A choked-out moan drops from your lips only for Jack to shove his tongue between them. He sucks on your tongue and nips at your bottom lip all the while rolling his hips over Joel’s lap.

“God, look at you two,” Joel groans, giving your ass another firm squeeze before moving his attention to Jack’s spread thighs. “I want to watch you eat that pretty pussy up, Jack. Bet you want that too. . .”

Joel palms Jack’s cock through the denim, stroking him with a smug smile. Jack parts away from your lips with a whimper. His chest heaves. “Yeah,” he gasps, staring into your eyes, and his hips jerk, chasing the heat of the other’s palm. “Want you to make a mess of me, sugar.”

“Please,” you answer albeit not really needed. Your body falls back to sit on your heels, Joel crashes his lips against the younger cowboy’s, drinking the noises in like a starved man. He rips his flannel open while straightening himself, the momentum of the movement forcing Jack to grip Joel’s shoulders. He slides off of Joel’s lap, the kiss breaking when he directs his full lust-addled attention to you.

His gaze is enough for you to start struggling with the buttons of your jeans. You kick them off in a rush and before you can take off your shirt Jack is already laying you down upon the soil, the stars above blinking down at you with mischief. Joel sitting close, pulls your head so you’re nestled comfortably above his lap. His hands cradle your face, thumbs stroking your skin gently. It’s a complete contrast compared to how Jack is. He slides your panties to the side, the pad of his thumb resting right above your clit, he stares at your from between your spread-out thighs.

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he mutters right before delving in. He drags his tongue slowly up your folds while tenderly stroking your clit. Your back arches off of the earth, your eyes fluttering closed as he goes back down, only to kiss you tenderly. He takes his time with you. His jaw moving and tongue teasing your fluttering entrance. Your breath catches in your throat, your chest rattling, Joel shushes you while praising Jack at the same time.

When your eyes finally open, you find Joel looking down at you. His thumb traces the underline of your bottom lip and moves down until he reaches the hem of your flannel. Flattening his thumb over your stomach, he pushes the fabric up until he exposes you to the sky completely. He cups both your breasts and smooths his fingers over your tingling nipples.

“So hard already. . . you must really like what he’s doin’ down there huh?”

Tears stinging the corner of your eyes, you nod. Your silent reply is answered with a sharp bite to the inside of your thigh. Your body jolts, a gasp of pain rattling your throat. Joel smiles. “I think he wants to hear you, sweetheart.”

“I love it,” you moan and as a reward, he pinches your nipples.

“Good girl.”

Jack presses his tongue deeper, your body clenching at both the words and the movement. He groans into your cunt, the bridge of his nose brushing your aching clit deliciously as he swirls his tongue. Your stomach coils tight and you push more of yourself into Joel’s palms, your mouth drops wide. You want more. You need more. You want them both to take and take and take—take until you forget your own damn name.

“Joel. . .” you breathe. He looks down at you curiously. “I want to suck your cock.”

Jack stops only for a moment before his eyes flutter closed and loses himself in you. Vaguely you can see the way he grinds down, a groan reverberating between your legs. Joel sucks in a breath and exhales from his nose. “You sure?”

Your answer is ready on your tongue, and as soon as you give it to him, he expertly unbuttons himself. The tip of his cock pushes against your lips and your breath hitches. Precome smears over the soft flesh, your tongue darting out for a taste, you end up tasting from the source instead. Joel’s hips stutter.

“Holy fuckin’ hell,” his hips jerk a second time, this time thrusting himself deeper into your mouth. You feel him leaning over, a second later you understand he’s reaching for the other man who is working you toward your orgasm. “Jack com’ere—Let me taste her.”

Jack doesn’t make Joel repeat himself and unwillingly pulls himself away from between your legs. Your tongue swirls around Joel’s cock as Jack kisses him deeply. He licks himself deep into the older man’s mouth, stealing a moan deep within Joel’s chest. While Jack steals the breath from Joel’s lungs, he pushes two fingers into you with ease. Your eyes rolling, you take more of Joel into your mouth, prompting the other to instinctively thrust deep enough to make you choke around him.

He parts from Jack with a gasp, “Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart, choke on it.” he says through gritted teeth. Both men look down at you with dark eyes, the shadows caused by the moonlight caress their backs, deepening every crease of their faces. You shudder.

You’re surprised to see Jack dipping down, lower from where you’re sucking Joel’s cock, he sucks the tender skin of the base, and the sound that Joel makes almost feels inhumane.

But Jack doesn’t linger. He pulls away from both of you, his torso tall between your legs, he strokes himself at the sight of your mouth full of the man he admires.

“You like having your mouth full, darlin’? Such a dirty girl allowing two men to have you like this out in the open.”

You whimper and nod, eyes flooding with tears as Joel shoves himself deeper. Spit and precome trickle down from where his cock stretches your lips.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” Jack says giving himself a firm squeeze before swiping his palm over the head of his cock. With his other hand, he follows the contour of your leg, reaches all the way to your hip. “You’re ‘bout to feel much fuller.”

He shoves himself inside you with a single thrust; your channel tightens around him, a moan escaping your throat. Your mouth is pulled away from Joel briefly, gasping for air, before he pulls you back. He adjusts his hips and slides back into your mouth, kneading the back of your neck.

“You feel that? How hot and wet you are? Both of us stretching you?” Jack's voice is gruff as he thrusts into you; your eyes close as pleasure radiates through your body, your skin left tingling. You can hear Joel moan and pant in the background, his cock throbs above your tongue and you hollow out your cheeks.

Your eyes flutter as Jack's cock glides in and out of you; his plunges getting deeper with every thrust. You feel overwhelmed by both of them. You’re left breathless and spinning. You feel only them and nothing else.

You grip onto Joel to keep yourself teetered to the moment as Jack's movements become more desperate, Joel matching him thrust for thrust. With each gasp, Joel's cock slides further down your throat.

The tightness inside your body grows; waves of pleasure cascade through you. The pressure builds and builds and builds—You’re so close you can taste it. Jack presses a palm over your mound, adding pressure as he draws quick and tight circles around your clit. Your throat convulses around Joel’s cock and he pulls out, his length resting comfortably above your lips. You breathe heavily against him, his cock slick and warm on your skin.

“Atta girl,” he coos. “Just a bit more. . . Show us how pretty you look when you come.”

You feel the pressure between your legs mounting with each hard thrust from Jack, your moans becoming louder and more desperate. Joel encourages Jack to go faster, and with each plunge you feel the tension in your core build higher and higher.

And finally the coil snaps.

Your whole body trembles and shakes. Your orgasm still rolling over your body like a violent wave. Jack pumps his hips into yours as he digs his hands into your hips. He keeps thrusting relentlessly, pushing himself as far in as he can before he pulls out. His jaw goes slack, cock gliding over your mound, he spills over your skin. You shudder at the trickle of his seed.

Joel’s cock slides across your lips, teasing you. Your tongue darts out and quickly wraps around him, you tilt your head to take in all of his length. You push your mouth onto him, bobbing your head up and down until he groans. His hips buck erratically and at the same time you feel the touch of Jack’s mouth against the side of your neck.

You swallow everything that he offers you, savoring every moment of the taste of him. You stay close to him until his breathing returns to normal, his thighs shaking underneath you as he pulls out.

“Holy shit,” Jack chokes out as he collapses on top of you, head right above your chest. Joel wipes the sole tear that had escaped you eye and smiles. You bring his palm to your lips and kiss the rough skin.

“It’s going to be hard walking away from all of this,” you whisper, shuddering when Jack’s mouth moves against the side of your breasts.

“Who says you have to walk away?”

You don’t have it in you to go into the details of your life and how you have to go. Or entertain the idea that maybe the things that you thought were important aren’t as essential that you thought after all. It’s pure chaos and right now all you want is to feel their warmth against your bare skin under the stars.

For now, you are content and feeling grateful for the two amazing men who coincidentally made themselves an inseparable part of your life.

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