#jack daniels fanfic
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A Baker's Dozen - Eight
Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.
Hello!
Pedro boy number eight is ready to swagger into the bakery and I've only got four more weeks of this! I realised the very final chapter would be posted on February 12th so lets delay it by two days and end this on Valentine's Day, seeing as this is the fluffiest, most romantic thing I've ever written. Feels very appropriate to end it with my favourite Pedro boy on Valentine's Day. 🥰
This chapter is dedicated to my lovely, sweet friend @ladybess-a03 who, in my world, is this Pedro boy's beautiful wife.
Series Master List
“Is the rodeo in town?” the kid who works extra over the weekends in the bakery asks, raising their eyebrows and nodding towards the window. You look over and catch a glimpse of the man striding across the street. The comment is pretty accurate, he certainly looks like a cowboy; a slick cowboy dressed up for the city in a well tailored suit that hugs his narrow hips and wide shoulders, topped off with a black Stetson and suede shoulder patches.
“Pretty good looking cowboy,” you say and the kid snorts, hanging their apron on the hook and giving you a quick wave goodbye. The cowboy reaches the bakery door and holds open the door for them before he steps inside.
“Afternoon, miss,” he says, greeting you with a polite tip of his Stetson, two fingers on the brim, as he saunters up to the counter, his lips quirking up in a smile.
“Afternoon, sir,” you reply, returning his polite greeting with a smile of your own. Internally you’re swooning and giggling, there’s a smoothness to the man that makes you want to twirl your imaginary braid and kick your heels.
“Sir,” he says, chuckling as he puts one hand on the counter, the other on his hip, pushing back his jacket and revealing a large belt buckle in the shape of a hip flask, “makes me feel about a hundred, darlin’. Call me Jack.” He offers you his hand, dwarfing your own as you shake it.
“Alright, how can I help you, Jack?” you ask as the warmth of his hand lingers on yours.
“Pie, sugar, I’m in a real mood for some pie,” he says, patting his belly with a grin, “And I heard you might be the best baker in town so I had to see for myself,” he winks, “if the rumors are true.”
“I don’t know about best baker in town,” you smile back, “but thanks for the vote of confidence. What kind of pie are you in the mood for?”
“Well, I’m an old fashioned cowboy, southern born and bred, so I doubt you’ll be surprised when you hear that I’d love some pecan pie, sugar,” he says, pointing to the one pecan pie you have in your display.
“Not old fashioned,” you say, crouching down to slide the pie out, “but maybe traditional. And it’s a great pie,” you put it on the counter and Jack chuckles.
“Honey, I’m anything but traditional, but I have a soft spot for pecan pie,” he says, putting an arm up on the display case and leaning in, his mouth pulling up in a crooked grin, “Sweet pecan pie, and sweet bakers,” he winks at you again and you feel your cheeks heat up and busy yourself adjusting the pie on the counter, trying to bite back the grin that’s threatening to split your face in half before you look up at the smiling cowboy again, his dark eyes twinkling under the brim of his Stetson.
“Would you like the whole thing, or just a slice?” you ask and Jack grins.
“Oh, sugar, I want the whole damn thing,” he replies and you swallow loudly. He keeps his eyes on you as you squirm under his gaze, your cheeks burning up as you quickly duck under the counter and grab one of the take away boxes. You’ve never met a man who so shamelessly flirts with anyone and you hear him chuckle as you look for the right sized box.
Jack is still smiling as you pop back up and start folding the flat cardboard, butterflies fluttering in your stomach under his gaze.
“This pie sure smells wonderful, darlin’,” he says, leaning in closer and drawing a deep breath, his arm still on the display case as he puts a hand on his waist, but he’s got his eyes on you, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile under his neat mustache.
“I hope it’ll taste as good as it smells then,” you reply, just to reply something. His over the top charm shouldn’t be getting to you so easily, but you’re practically a puddle at this point, any coherent sentence from you is a win and Jack seems to notice your reaction to his flirting and clearly loves how he’s getting to you, judging by the size of his grin.
“I’m absolutely certain it will be every bit as sweet as you, sugar,” he purrs, his hand coming up to rub over his smooth jaw.
You manage to slide the pie into the box and close the lid, pushing it over the counter to Jack, giving him a flustered smile.
“Here you go then, enjoy,” you say, “Please let me know what you think, if you’re passing by again.”
“And what do I owe you, honey?” he asks, reaching back and pulling out a slim black wallet from his pocket.
“Uh…umm…” you stutter, the prices, that are usually seared into your brain, have wandered off under the onslaught of Jack’s charm and you fumble for the price list next to the till, “Twenty-four, ninety-nine,” you finally get out and Jack pulls out two twenties and hands them over.
“Keep the change, sugar, you’re undercharging for both the pie and the company,” he says, grinning as he winks at you again.
“Oh thank you, sir-Jack,” you reply, “but that’s really not necessary.”
“I know, but I want to,” he smiles, softer this time, “And I’ll be sure to let you know how much I like it,” He slides a hand under the box, carefully lifting it up as he tips his hat at you, two fingers on the brim again.
“Have a good evening, darlin’,”
“Same to you Jack, enjoy the pie.”
“Oh, I will, I’m sure,” Jack grins, pushing the door open, letting a new customer in.
“Ma’am,” he says, giving her a tip of his hat before he disappears with a final smile at you.
“What a handsome man,” Mrs Morales says as she comes up to the counter, “and such good manners.”
“He was very well mannered,” you smile at her as she comes up to the counter, “What can I get for you today, Mrs Morales?”
…
When the doorbell jingles in the middle of the morning a few days later, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Jack’s smiling face above the small crowd of customers. He gives you a two fingered salute, tipping his hat, before he sits down at one of the café tables to wait. The crowd slowly thins out and eventually it’s Jack’s turn, and you notice that he’s choosing to wait until he can be served by you and not your shop assistant.
“Hi Jack,” you smile at him as he comes over. He’s opted for a more casual look today you notice, a black leather jacket and white t-shirt instead of his slick suit, but the Stetson is still on his head as he gives you a crooked grin.
“Hi there, sugar,” he drawls, his southern twang even more pronounced, “you’re looking real gorgeous today, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He winks as he leans on the counter, giving you his most winning smile and you can practically hear the eye roll from your assistant down by the till.
“Thanks, you’re not looking to shabby yourself,” you smile back at him and he puffs his chest, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
“How was the pecan pie?” you ask and Jack grins widely.
“Just as sweet as the gorgeous baker girl who made it,” he croons, “I may have eaten the whole thing already.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” you smile, your cheeks heating up at his praise and Jack chuckles, taking off his Stetson and fanning you with it.
“Is it hot in here, darlin’, or is my praise heating you up there?”
“Oh shut up,” you reply, trying to give him a scowl but failing as he runs his free hand through his dark hair, smoothing out the unruly locks that have been hidden under his hat, before he puts it back on. The simple action shouldn’t make a shiver run down your spine but you feel your mind go temporarily blank as he adjusts the brim to his liking. As he cocks his head and gives you a playful smirk, the corner of his lip curling up, you try to snap out of it.
“So what can I do for you today, Jack?”
“How about another pecan pie, darlin’?” he asks, glancing over the display cases and spotting the one you made this morning.
“Another one?”
“What can I say, your pie is calling my name, sugar,” he grins and winks at you, hooking his thumb into the pocket of his tight jeans.
“I’ll make sure to keep making it for you then, Jack,” you giggle and slide the fresh pecan pie from the shelf and into a carton.
“I’ll be a steady customer for sure,” he says and reaches back for his wallet, handing you his card with a smile, “no other bakery has better pecan pie.” You fight the grin on your face as you charge his card and go to hand it back to him, but he gently takes your hand instead, pulling you closer to him over the counter, “And the most gorgeous baker to make them,” he whispers, his low voice rich and warm as you feel his warm breath slip over your cheek.
He gives you a wink and lets go of your hand, stepping back from the counter and letting the next customer step forward as he tips his hat to you.
“What a charmer,” Mrs Levinson says, pulling your attention away from Jack as she puts her handbag on the counter. “But I always preferred a man in a suit, and a bit less forward if I may say so.” She wrinkles her nose at you, dismissing Jack as you try to stifle a giggle.
“I think he was just the right amount of forward, Mrs Levinson,” you reply with a smile, “Would you like your usual order today?”
“Yes please, dear. But add one of those Lemon Meringue Pies please. I’m going over to Mrs York’s place later,” she adds the last part with a sigh. “So sad, her son and his wife have just split up, they have two such beautiful daughters.”
“Didn’t they divorce last spring, Mrs Levinson?”
“Yes, at Easter, but he’s still single and she’s found some new man,” Mrs Levinson shakes her head as you place the pie next to her usual bread order, “he’s such a handsome boy, always wears a suit too, he’d be a real catch for you, my dear.”
“I’ve got plenty on my plate already, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, thinking of Jack’s flirting and tight jeans, “I just don’t have time for any more right now.”
“You have to let yourself have some fun too, can’t be all work,” the old lady scolds you mildly as you hand her the change and she puts everything away. “I’ll tell Mrs York to send him here for some time soon, I’m sure you’d like him.” She gives you a cheeky wink and waves goodbye, letting the next customer in line step up.
The next time Jack comes by the bakery, he’s back in his sharp suit, and tips his Stetson at you with a wink as he comes up to the counter.
“Seeing as I was found lacking last time, I thought it best to suit up,” he chuckles and you can’t help but roll your eyes as you laugh.
“Mrs Levinson has a sharp eye for handsome men, but might be a little bit old fashioned,” you reply, “But I do like your suit, it’s very ‘you’, Jack.”
“Thank you, sugar, I do like to dress the part for work,” he straightens his impeccable hat again.
“So what brings you back here, Jack? You can’t possibly have eaten two whole pecan pies in just a few days?”
“I certainly could’ve,” he chuckles, patting down the front of his suit jacket, “but I was kind enough to share it with my colleagues and told them you have the best pie in town, and I think you might be getting more customers soon.”
“That’s very nice of you, and thanks for the recommendation”, you smile, but Jack shakes his head.
“Only telling the truth, sugar,” he winks, “and I’ve promised them to bring another pie tomorrow so could I trouble you?”
“Of course, I’ve been making extra just for you, Jack” you smile and Jack’s face lights up, a wide grin making a dimple appear in his cheek as he rubs a hand over his neat mustache.
“Honey, you’re spoiling me rotten, how can I ever repay you?”
“Well, I’d say twenty-four, ninety-nine, but this one’s on the house,” you scoot the box with the pie over the counter towards Jack who’s furiously shaking his head.
“You know I can’t accept that, sugar. You’re already undercharging as it is,” he says, pulling out his wallet from inside his suit jacket as you raise your hand to stop him.
“Jack, if you pull out that wallet any further I’ll have to ban you from the bakery, it’s on the house.”
Jack’s eyes go wide, “You wouldn’t?” he exclaims with mock horror as you nod emphatically.
“Oh I would, Jack,” you grin, pointing to the door, “Now take your pie and leave that wallet in your pocket.”
Jack shakes his head as he picks up the pie box, “I’ll pay you somehow, sugar, but thank you very much for the pie.”
“You’re very welcome, Jack,” you smile at him as he carefully brings two fingers to the brim of his Stetson and gives you a nod.
“‘Till next time, darlin’.”
You do sell a couple of more pecan pies over the next few days and you wonder if your new customers are Jack’s colleagues as you add extra pecans to your online grocery order. Thanks to Jack you’ve gone through your stores of pecans in record time, and as you tap your pen on your notebook you toy with the idea of making variations of it for Jack to try. The jingle of the bell above the bakery door pulls you out of your thoughts and you look up. Your heart skips a little beat when you recognise the black Stetson.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” Jack calls to you as he spots you in the kitchen, “I’m not too late am I?”
“Not at all, I’m closing in about five minutes, I’m just ordering next week’s groceries,” you wave him in behind the counter and he comes to the door into your kitchen, putting an arm up over his head as he leans on the frame.
“More pecans?” he winks and you laugh.
“How did you know? I’m running low on them, someone keeps buying all my pies.”
“A few of my colleagues said they’ve stopped by and bought a couple of pies,” he says as you try to discreetly glance at his tall frame as he leans against the door post. He’s back in his white t-shirt and black leather jacket this evening, and the way the shirt rides up over the edge of his tight jeans as he stretches his arm, a sliver of tanned skin peeking out, has your mind going blank.
“Oh, y-yeah,” you stutter as your brain slowly comes back online, “A very nice woman with short black hair and glasses came in and bought one, but it was busy and I didn’t get a chance to ask if she worked with you.”
“Ginger,” Jack smiles, “she’s the one who asked me where I got it. Tried telling her I made it myself but, funnily, she didn’t buy it,” he chuckles and comes into the kitchen, leaning over your shoulder to look down at your notes, “What are you working on there, sugar?”
“I was thinking of making some variations of the pie,” you say, “maybe one with a hint of lemon, or a bourbon chocolate one?”
“Now you’re talking my kind of language, sugar,” Jack grins, tapping the ridiculously large belt buckle in the shape of a hip flask that sits on his belt.
“Don’t tell me you actually have bourbon in that?” you ask, your eyebrows shooting up and Jack nods and grins.
“Of course, sugar! Never know when I might need a shot,” he laughs, unclipping the hip flask from his belt and flipping open the top, holding out for you to smell. The rich, warm aroma of the bourbon wafts up and you inhale deeply.
“That smells so good, Jack, it’s giving me ideas!”
“What kinds of ideas, sugar?” Jack drawls, winking at you as he leans on your workbench, his eyes suddenly level with yours, all chocolate brown and warm. Your cheeks heat up as he takes a swig from the hip flask, his eyes never leaving yours, and then offers it to you.
“Baking ideas,” you force out, almost jumping out of your skin as his fingers slip over your hand when you take the flask from him. The warm whiskey goes down smooth and warm, heating you up from the inside as it lands in your belly, and your eyes come back to Jack’s. He’s looking at you with a smile, one corner of his mouth pulled up as he takes the flask back from you.
“Are you making me a new pecan pie straight away, honey? Because I absolutely have room for dessert…” he trails off with a quirk of his eye brows. You bite down on your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot, little hot sparks are erupting in your stomach and they have nothing to do with the bourbon. Jack runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of his lip, catching an errant drop of whiskey and you follow the movement with your eyes, his plush bottom lip disappearing for a moment as he sucks it in, wetting it.
“Cream!” you blurt out.
Jack raises his eyebrows questioningly, “Cream?” The tone of his voice has dropped about an octave and there’s no mistaking the suggestion in his voice.
“No! Yes! I-I mean, whipped cream, with bourbon, for the pie,” you flounder, pointing to Jack’s hip flask as his smile widens.
“That sounds like the most perfect addition to your pie, sugar. Right now?”
“Yeah, if I can use a few tablespoons of your whiskey?”
“You can have whatever you want, darlin’,” Jack replies, unclipping the bottle again and handing it to you.
“Grab the pie from the display case,” you tell him as you open the fridge to pull out the whipping cream. You hear Jack go back to the front and bring the pie back to the workbench, as you pull out a hand mixer and a bowl, he shrugs out of his leather jacket and hangs it on the back of your chair before he comes back to the table. The white t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders as he leans on the workbench next to you.
“So I finally get to see you in action,” he says as you measure out two tablespoons of whiskey from his flask before handing it back to him.
“For about the two minutes it’s going to take to make this,” you smile and start the hand mixer. Jack grabs the bowl and holds it steady while you slowly start whipping the cream, adding powdered sugar as you go along with the whiskey. Soon the cream has transformed to pillowy clouds and you stop the mixer. You can smell the bourbon and so can Jack, he leans forward and inhales deeply.
“This smells gorgeous, sugar, just the thing for the pie I think.”
You giggle as he stands up again, a small dollop of cream clinging to the tip of his nose.
“You’ve got some cream on your nose there, Jack,” you smile and Jack laughs, going cross eyed as he tries to spot it. With a swipe of his finger he catches the dollop and puts his finger in his mouth.
“Mmm…delicious,” he says, grinning around his finger as you smile back at him, grabbing a couple of plates and a knife for cutting.
“Should be even better with the pie,” you say, giving Jack a generous slice and then cutting another one for yourself before spooning the bourbon infused cream next to both slices.
Jumping up on the workbench, you grab your plate as Jack takes a step closer, picking up his own piece. You swipe your finger through the cream on your plate, wanting to taste it without the pie first. But Jack beats you to it, his hand comes out and grabs your wrist, his calloused fingers closing gently around your soft skin as he pulls your hand to his lips. The wet heat of his mouth envelops your finger as he sucks it in, his tongue brushing over your digit, and you gasp.
The sensation of his tongue running along your finger shoots electricity through your body and you exhale sharply, your eyes locked on Jack’s mouth as he studies your reaction. As your eyes come back up to his he lets your finger slip from between his lips, leaning forward and capturing your chin with his hand. He pauses for a second, waiting for your permission, and as you lean into him, he presses a soft kiss to your mouth. A low groan slips from him and the taste of bourbon and cream fills your mouth as he tenderly dips his tongue in between your lips. Your hand comes up to his shoulder to brace yourself, his hot mouth on yours making your pulse rase. You lean into him, needing to taste more of his mouth and his arm comes around your waist, pulling you close.
“You taste even better than the pie, sugar,” Jack mumbles against your mouth, cupping your cheek with his large hand as you chase his lips.
“You too, Jack,” you moan, letting him angle your face so that he can deepen the kiss, fervently licking into your mouth as he pulls you closer to his chest, your legs wrapped around his waist where he stands between them. His body is warm through the cotton of his t-shirt, his muscles moving under your palms as you explore the planes of his back. Jack lets his mustache tickle across your cheek, your jawline, as he slowly moves his lips with small, wet kisses, along your sensitive skin, trailing a path down your neck. His dark hair is thick and soft when you curl your fingers into the back of it, Jack tilting your head back as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his nose buried in your hair.
“So sweet, darlin’,” he mutters, his voice muffled, “smells like butter and sugar.”
“Come up here and kiss my lips again, Jack,” you protest, tugging light at his hair and he chuckles, inhaling deeply.
“Anything for you, honey,” he replies, his big hand cupping the back of your head as he drags the cool tip of his nose up your neck and jaw, bumping against yours. When you lock eyes again he’s smiling softly, all the confident cockyness gone, replaced by warmth and affection. His lips part slowly as you pull him closer, his tongue teasing yours, making you lick into his mouth.
He hums softly, his hand caressing your back, finding the divot of your spin and trailing his fingers up and down. In the quiet kitchen all you can hear are his low groans and your own gasps as each kiss traces sparks along your nerves. Jack’s fingers press into your back as heat builds between you, his hips slowly grinding in a movement so unhurried it’s as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. When his warm palms find their way up under your shirt, rough calluses stroking gently over your curves, you lean back, pulling him with you until you're flat on your back, Jack leaning down over you.
“Gorgeous…” he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck again, his hands pushing further up your shirt.
“Oh no!” he suddenly exclaims, lifting his head up from your throat and holding up his hand, covered in mushed up pecan pie.
“You’re on top of it, honey,” he laughs, helping you sit up, and you hear the plate clatter to the bench behind you. Now that you’re up, you can feel the stickiness against your back, and you twist, trying to see how much of a mess you’ve made.
“Is it all over my back?” you ask and Jack looks over your shoulder and nods.
“I’m afraid so, sugar, your shirts covered in it. Do you have something to change into?”
“No, I took everything home to wash yesterday,” you grumble, twisting your arm up behind your back and feeling the remains of the pie.
“Here,” Jack says, standing up straight and swiftly pulling his own t-shirt off, “I’ll wear just the jacket, you take my shirt.” He holds it out to you and you hesitate, temporarily mesmerized by the sudden sight of Jack’s bare chest, tan and smooth with a trail of dark hair disappearing into his jeans.
You swallow and pull your eyes up to his face again, “I can’t take your t-shirt, Jack.”
“Why not? Take it, I’ve got plenty more, and I kinda like the idea of you in my shirt,” he winks and takes a step closer again, making you grab his shirt as he bends and places a wet kiss on your lips, “And this way, I can come by your place and pick it up. Or leave another one.”
He grins as stands up again, “C’mon, sugar, take that one off and let me see you in mine.” He helps you by putting his hands back on your waist and pushing up under your ruined shirt. You peel it off gingerly, trying to avoid getting pie in your hair, and Jack’s eyes darken as you sit in front of him in just your bra.
“Want me to put it on straight away, Jack?” you tease him as you watch him take in your shape.
“No..but yeah, or we’re not leaving this bakery anytime soon, darlin’,” he chuckles, and you pull his t-shirt over your head as Jack sighs in mock disappointment. The soft cotton is still warm from his body and smells just like Jack, you have to inhale as it slips over your head. When you pop out from underneath it Jack is watching you with a small smile.
“Beautiful,” he says softly, his hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you feel your cheeks heat up.
“Do you want more pie, Jack?” you ask, pointing to the remaining pie and Jack’s eyebrows quirk up.
“What do you think, sugar?” he smirks and you laugh.
“I think you’ve got three empty pie forms at home and an extra hole in your belt.”
“Not yet, but soon,” he grins, patting his small belly, “C’mon, sugar, let me drive you, make sure my shirt gets to its new home safely.”
“I’ve got my own car, but thanks for the offer, Jack,” you smile at him and slip your arms around his neck again. “Come by soon, I’ll have more pie for you.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it, sugar.”
Part Nine
This week's recipe comes courtesy of @goodwithcheese who shared her own Pecan Pie recipe with me! Thank you Megan!
Megan’s Pecan Pie
3 eggs
½ cup/100g sugar
1 cup/250 ml dark corn syrup
3 tablespoons melted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
¼ teaspoon salt
2 cups/approx 250g chopped pecans
Whisk together all ingredients except the pecans. Stir in the pecans and pour the mixture into an unbaked pie crust and bake for 40 minutes at 350F/175C.
@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers
#pedro pascal character fanfiction#jack daniels#agent whiskey#jack daniels x reader#jack daniels fanfic
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HEARTLESS 💔 - PART TWO
Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader
Summary: much to your horror, Jack shows up again and asks you to see his son one more time
(This is the second part of the one shot HEARTLESS 💔)
Warnings: angst, hurt, a little bit of fluff because Wyatt is super cute, mom!reader, asshole!jack, mentions of abortion
A/N: besties honestly i don't even know why I am doing this, while i was writing, i realized i don't like this suffering at all 😭 i think agent whiskey is such a dad and husband material and he's so handsome and sexy and he would be so affectionate and would give the best orgasms and cuddles in the world but i can't stop myself from pouring angst into people's lives 😭
1.7k words
Wyatt whimpered as you sent him to bed. He wasn't sleepy at all and he wanted to talk about all the fun things he'd seen during the day. He loved to run freely through the green fields, he liked scaring away the chickens, petting the horses and watching the baby pigs.
But his favorite part of the trip was the cowboy. He was so cool, Wyatt spent the rest of the day blabbering about him and asking you all kinds of questions. He was so innocent and pure, your heart shattered each time he would look at you with his little curious eyes and shoot you another question about the mysterious figure.
Though he wasn't mysterious at all. It was his dad, not that Wyatt knew about it, you figured he was just too little for that, he was still your baby. He wasn't even four yet and he had to live his little life with only his mama as he'd been rejected by his dad since he was just a small little bean in your womb.
You saw his begging, pleading eyes, just like Jack's and felt your heart clench, there was nothing he would ask you and you would say no. You sighed and pulled Wyatt into your lap "fine baby boy, if you don't wanna sleep now, then come cuddle mama!!!" You tickled his tummy and made him squeal and snuggle you.
You sat comfortably in his small bed and let him sprawl over you, loving how happy he got. You ran your fingers through his soft curls and pecked the top of his head. He was waiting for a bedtime story as you always told him one, but this time, he wanted a cowboy story. You swallowed and took his tiny little hand into yours, stroking it gently
"You really liked that cowboy, didn't you?" You asked your son and earned an excited nod "alright… let mama think…" you closed your eyes and thought of any story you could tell him, however, you didn't know any cowboy stories… the only cowboy story you knew was your cowboy… but that was a long time ago, when he was yours and you were his.
Still, Wyatt looked up curiously, waiting to know what you had to tell him.
You swallowed and began telling him the story about your cowboy.
With a few modifications, some sugar coating and softness you told your son about your first encounter with the cowboy and how it made your heart melt. You told him how you two hit off and how the cowboy had a real nice job of fighting bad guys and saving the world, you couldn't control the pride in your chest as you saw the joy in Wyatt's eyes, loving that storytelling so much he often gasped and giggled.
And going down the memory lane, you managed to make your son sleepy, as he blinked his tired eyes and yawned "night night mama" he whispered before falling asleep.
You smiled at yourself and covered him up, silently walking out the bedroom and walked around your dark, empty apartment. Your mind wouldn't stop replaying the images of your day, your sudden encounter with Jack, something you really thought wouldn't happen soon. He looked handsome, like he always did, smelling great and if you didn't know any better, you would probably fall for his trap again, if he flashed you those beautiful eyes, gave you a grin and said any dumb pickup line with his accent. There was just something so attractive about him, and you had fallen for him once, but you wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
You thought about how he hugged Wyatt, it didn't even seem the same man who rejected him, who simply broke things up with you once you found out you were pregnant. One day you were deeply in love with each other, and the next he was suggesting you get an abortion. It was something you just couldn't handle, you couldn't accept and just like you were alone in the world with your baby.
When the doorbell rang, your heart clenched once more, you didn't even need to check, you just knew it was Jack.
You dried your eyes and sighed, walking to the door and opening it for him.
Jack stood there, looking almost as unsure as you did. He was holding his hat in hands and watched you hesitantly. You could tell he was looking for words to say, but nothing came out.
"Come on in, Jack" you said and let him step inside, closing the door behind him and letting him get familiar with the place.
Jack looked all over the place, he had never been inside your home and it hurt him how it looked homey and cozy. No matter how much he spent on decoration at his own place, he could never get it like that.
He carefully watched the picture frames, so many photos of a life that could have been his as well, but he chose not to be a part of it, it didn't even matter his reasons now, the result was there: pictures of you on your baby shower, pictures of the first time you held Wyatt in your arms, his first birthday, his first day at daycare, mother's day… all those precious, beautiful moments, and absolutely no trace of Jack.
"It's good seeing you again, Y/N… you look even prettier than before, sugar" the man turned to you, his voice was small and though his cocky way of speaking wasn't there, you couldn't believe the first thing he told you in years was a cheap attempt of charming you.
"What do you want Jack?" You folded your arms and stared at him, you didn't want to play games nor beat around the bush.
"I wanna be around my boy" he replied to which you scoffed and shook your head
"Your boy? The same one that you rejected when he was nothing but a tiny little bean in my womb? The one you insisted on me getting rid of? I don't think so, Jack"
He sighed ashamed of his past and took a step closer, to which you immediately took a step back, showing him you wanted nothing but distance from him.
"I know what I did, and I know how awful it was, but after I saw him today… I realized I can't get away… please Y/N"
"You think you can just walk in and demand to see my son? After you abandoned us? He isn't a cute puppy, Jack! You can't just find him sweet because you spent five minutes with him and think you can bring your shit storm into our lives. That's not how it works. I don't want him around you, because you are a mess and you will break his heart just like you broke mine!"
"I didn't abandon you, Y/N. Don't be unfair with me!!! All these years, I followed the two of you from afar, I provided you with money and other things you needed.. hell, who do you think managed to get you this apartment lease?" He raised his eyebrow getting on the defensive "I wanna do it the right way, but if you make things hard, I'll get a damn lawyer and you will have to fight your cut ass off to pay for one yourself because I won't rest until I have my boy with me!!!"
You knew Jack, he wasn't bluffing. He was the kind of man who got everything he wanted, but you just couldn't accept he could walk into your home and have a claim on your son after everything that happened, even threatening you to find an attorney.
"It's not the same… money helps but it is not everything, where were you when I was pregnant and alone? When I needed someone to hold my hand and tell me things were fine? Where were you, Jack? When Wyatt had his first fever and I didn't know how I could help him calm down? When he said his first words? When he took his first step? You missed it all out, even if you had given me your whole fortune, nothing pays the memories you lost!"
"I just want to see my son, nothing else Y/N… I don't want you, I don't want our relationship back" he said knowing it would sting you, he couldn't help but make his intentions clear. You two would never be together again, he knew that because you would never take him back, so he thought it was easier to just convince himself of it beforehand.
You, on the other hand, could never be with him again, even if he hadn't done the things he did, there was still no way you could compete with a ghost, you just thought it was easier to convince yourself Jack never stopped loving his first wife and he never would, so your relationship was nothing but an adventure.
You didn't want him to see the tears in your eyes, you didn't want to show how weak you felt at that moment.
Before any of you could say anything else, tiny footsteps interrupted the argument that was about to explode.
"Cowboy!!!" Wyatt said excitedly as he still rubbed his tired eyes but ran to Jack, giggling as he was so easily lifted up into his arms. The toddler was so affectionate, he just wrapped his small arms around his neck once more and rested his head against Jack's shoulder "miss you cowboy!" he giggled happily and snuggled.
You bit your lips and did your best not to cry, but it was pretty much impossible, you couldn't understand why your son liked that man so much without even knowing him. It wasn't fair to you, and you were ashamed to realize you felt jealous.
Jack, on the other hand, felt his heart fill with pure joy for the first time in ages. He quickly kept Wyatt in a warm embrace, loving the smell of his baby shampoo and how cute his PJs were.
His hand rubbed up and down his back as he sat on the couch, letting him relax completely and in a matter of minutes, Wyatt was back in dreamland.
You hated how easy it was for Jack to make your son fall asleep, and how much they already liked each other, it hurt you so much, but you were determined not to let that man get near you again.
_____
A/N: ¿Malparido, no?
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal imagine#agent whiskey#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x you#agent whiskey x y/n#agent whiskey fanfiction#agent whiskey fanfic#agent whiskey imagine#jack daniels#jack daniels x reader#jack daniels x y/n#jack daniels x you#jack daniels fanfiction#jack daniels fanfic#jack daniels imagine
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buckles and barley {new series masterlist}
Fandom: Kingsmen - The Golden Circle
Pairing: Rancher! Jack Daniels x Ranchhand! Reader
Summary: You seek out a secluded ranch outside the city limits at the behest of your ill father. In search of one of his old friends he had lost contact with after returning from a deployment and a catastrophic fallout. But instead you find the charming, dedicated, and rather handsome son of the man who had already passed, Jack Daniels. A night of bonding over the iron wills of your fathers and you find yourself falling into bed with him, only to be called away by the hospital that your father had been rushed too.
Devastated but free from the ties of your former life, you return to the ranch a changed woman. With the help of a man who holds his own grief, you learn how to tend to the horses and maintain the land. Together, you dance around each other as the seasons change. Cultivating a life that you never envisioned for yourself.
Wordcount: undetermined
Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, death of a loved one, strained family dynamics, grief, implied verbal abuse, implied anger issues, allusions to past relationships, reader finds herself, reader takes control of her life, minor injuries, accident prone reader, allusions to infidelity, miscommunication, pining, mutual pining, protective jack, adult content, sexual content, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), more to be added as the story develops!
A/N: excited to delve into this once {by the grit of sandpaper} is concluded. will be doing a little bit of a different approach with this one, it's a new pedro character for me and i wanted to try writing a majority of this one before i begin posting to help establish a solid posting schedule!
ao3 link || navigation || main masterlist || ko-fi
sneakie peek || fic teaser || chapter one header
#dev writes#fic: buckles and barley#kingsmen golden circle#kingsmen secret service#kingsmen golden circle fanfiction#jack daniels#jack daniels x reader#jack daniels x you#rancher! jack daniels#jack daniels smut#jack daniels fanfiction#jack daniels fanfic#agent whiskey#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x you#agent whiskey smut#agent whiskey fanfiction#ao3#archive of our own#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction
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V ║ Appaloosa
Jack Daniels x f!reader
{ Part 4: Strawberry Roan | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 6: Mustang }
Rating: E
Summary: You and Jack play house for a day.
Warnings: This is filthy, light angst, feelings, flirting, insecurities, sexual innuendoes, protected sex, fingering, dirty talk, language, mention of food, no use of Y/N
Word count: 2.9k
Notes: Cowboy Jack and his Darlin' are back. This is a bit of a transitional chapter as we move into the second part of the their week together, and shit's getting real 🥺 I know it's been a while, and I hope this doesn't disappoint ❤️
Appaloosa: An American horse breed best known for its colourful spotted coat pattern.
Jack can’t remember the last time he missed his alarm.
When he slowly comes to, the room is quiet, the digital beep from his phone that you must have switched off but an echo in his ears. He exhales heavily through his nose and turns onto his side, where he finds you burrowed into your pillow.
You stretch languidly as Jack drapes his arm over you, warm and heavy, his bare skin finding yours under the duvet. His baritone rumbles in your ear. ‘Mornin’, darlin’.’
You smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. You mumble back, ‘Morning, cowboy.’
‘Sleep well?’
Shifting onto your back and blinking up at his face hovering just above you, you nod and let your gaze trail over his rumpled hair, his warm eyes, still hooded with sleep, and lips curled into a gentle smile. The morning light spilling through the window chases away the tailend of the chill from last night, and the air in the room is ripe with the musk of sex and slumber. You hum and pull him in for a chaste kiss.
‘Do the horses need feeding?’ you ask as he settles between your thighs, holding himself above you on elbows either side of your face.
‘No, I left the feed out for them last night,’ he answers, but stays still otherwise, as if he’s letting you take the lead on how this morning should play out.
You run your hands down his back, sliding slowly against his skin as you feel goosebumps bloom in their wake. Cocking your head to the side, you say, ‘So theoretically, if your guests don’t feel well -’
Jack’s brow immediately furrows in worry. ‘You don’t feel well?’
You shake your head, soothing your palms over his lower back as you reassure him, ‘No, I feel perfectly well. It’s just,’ you pause and bite your bottom lip. ‘Just theoretically - could we stay one more night?’
You can tell it’s not what he expected to hear, but the way his gaze darkens just ever so slightly doesn’t escape you. His voice comes out deeper when he finally says, ‘But we’re going to miss all the sights we were going to see today.’
With a slow nod, you reply, ‘I know.’
Jack shifts, taking his weight off one elbow so that his hips slowly but surely brush against yours. ‘We’ll have to take a shortcut.’
You don’t mean for your words to come out so breathless, but they do anyway. ‘I understand.’
Jack’s voice drops to a throaty whisper. ‘We’ll have to ride extra hard tomorrow to make up for lost time.’
‘How hard?’ you prompt, wrapping one leg around his waist, your breath hitching when you feel his hard length sliding through your folds.
‘Very hard,’ he breathes through gritted teeth, his large palms cupping your ass and squeezing greedily, pulling you flush to him.
‘How about I show you how hard I can ride, cowboy?’ You grin against his lips. ‘Will it put your mind at ease, sir?’
Jack groans and takes your lips in a searing kiss, rocking against your dampening core before pulling back to growl, ‘Not fuckin’ likely, darlin’.’
Jack’s never been one to cut work. Hell, he’d never even taken a sick day until his wife’s accident. After the funeral, he’d packed up his truck and headed straight into the woods, where he spent the entirety of three months in silent solitude in the depths of the forests.
Then he went back to work, and he’s never stopped since.
But right now, he can’t bring himself to care that he’s putting a blemish on his perfect record - not when his eyes are on your tits as you bounce on his cock, the pulse in your neck rabbiting under the scrape of his teeth when you throw your head back, nails digging into his shoulders and grounding him to the moment. In the back of his head, he hears the bed creak underneath, an off-key violin to the tune of your gasps and moans.
‘Fuck, darlin’, you ride me so well,’ he praises you, one hand coming down to smack you on the ass, which makes you stutter something incoherent as your pussy clenches around him.
‘Told you so,’ you somehow manage to reply smartly, prompting a growl from him as he thrusts up into you so hard that you nearly fall off his lap. ‘Jack!’
‘Just testin’ how well you stay on a buckin’ bronco,’ he sasses back at you with a debauched grin.
You bite your lip, hips desperately grinding against his. So close that your insides are trembling, you let his comeback slide, begging instead, ‘Do it again, Jack, please, gonna cum -’
He leans forward and presses a desperate kiss to your lips, his words catching in his throat as he feels you break around him. ‘Anythin’ for you, darlin’.’
Tequila’s battered truck rattles up to the Halfway House a few minutes after nine, the metallic grunts of the engine breaking the still of the morning. Jameson sits patiently on the passenger side, but his tail is thumping excitedly on the seat at the sight of his favourite playground in the mountains.
Whistling to himself, Tequila rounds the truck to let the border collie out, who bounds headfirst towards the paddock. Looking up, he grins at the sight of the three horses still in the stables.
Champ owes him fifty bucks, and he intends to collect.
He knocks anyway - his mama taught him manners - and he gives it a couple more tries before letting himself in, leaving the door ajar if Jameson wants to come in.
The house is silent, only the floorboards creaking under his boots as he makes a sweep of the living space. Remnants of the night before are scattered about in wine-stained glasses, empty dishes and dying embers in the fireplace.
He gotta give it to Jack. Man’s got moves.
Humming quietly to himself, Tequila pulls open the fridge door, the interior light flooding him in orange as he pokes his head inside, and his eyes light up at the half-eaten chocolate cake. He shrugs and reaches for it - might as well have a second breakfast while he waits.
And he doesn’t have to wait long. He’s just finishing up the last of his slice at the dining table when he hears movement down the corridor to the guest bedrooms. There’s a flush of the toilet and a trickle of water, then Jack emerges in just his jeans, head down while he does up the fly.
‘Mornin’ sunshine,’ pipes up Tequila, louder than he needs to. He enjoys the way the normally calm and collected cowboy jumps a foot in fright.
Rubbing his palm over his eyes, Jack groans and stumbles over his words. ‘Oh fuck. Sorry, I meant to call. Our guest - uh, she isn’t feeling well, so we’ll be staying one more night. So that she can - get better.’
Tequila crosses his arms, one eyebrow arched. ‘She isn’t feeling well, huh?’
‘Yeah, um - something with the food,’ mumbles Jack as he stalks over to the kitchen sink to pour himself a glass of water, which he downs.
‘Losing your touch in the kitchen, Daniels?’
‘Shut up, Teak,’ glowers Jack, steadfastly avoiding his friend’s gaze as he busies himself with moving the dirty dishes from the kitchen counter. He turns on the hot water and squeezes far too much washing up liquid into the stoppered sink. Grabbing a sponge, he begins to aggressively wash up.
Tequila watches with a pleasant smile and comments, ‘Funny choice of attire when our guest can walk in any moment, by the way.’
Spinning around with soapy hands, Jack opens his mouth, ready to make up another excuse - when his eyes alight on the box of condoms haphazardly ripped open lying in plain sight on the table in front of the other cowboy.
Pointing what he hopes is a menacing finger at Teak - as menacing as it can be with suds sliding off the tip of it - he growls, ‘Not a single word from you, understand?’
Tequila flashes him a shit-eating grin. ‘C’mon, a thank you would be nice. I drove into town specially to get you those rubbers, you know. Did I get the sizing right, by the way? Not too loose?’
Jack resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘How did you even -’
‘Like recognises like,’ winks Tequila.
Rolling his eyes, Jack turns back to the dishes and says, ‘Just get the fuck out of here before she wakes up.’
‘I can’t,’ he protests. ‘I gotta collect your dirty laundry and strip the beds. Bet I only need to strip one bed though.’
The front door whines on its hinges - it really needs a good oiling - as Jameson runs into the house, barking at the sight of Jack, who gives him a wet pat on the head.
He freezes when he hears another door creak, but before he can sound the warning, you pad out of the corridor and into the living area in just his shirt, your eyes still squinty with sleep.
‘Did I just hear a dog -’ you stop abruptly in your tracks when you spot Tequila waving to you.
‘Mornin’ sweetheart,’ calls out Tequila with a two-fingered salute. He turns to Jack and pronounces, ‘Well, she hardly looks rode hard and put away wet, does she?’
You blink, your limited morning brain power preoccupied by Jameson, who’s shimmied up to you wagging his tail. Scratching him behind the ear, you try to muster a response to Tequila’s rather cryptic remark. ‘I mean, um, maybe not in so many words -’
Jack cuts in from across the kitchen. ‘Darlin’, do not answer that. It’s a southern sayin’ and he’s just tryin’ to wind you up.’
Tequila wriggles his eyebrows at you playfully. ‘Wind up the birthday girl? Never! Happy birthday, by the way. I’m guessing Jack showed you a good time?’
‘Get outta here, Teak!’
He surrenders with his palms up, vacating the kitchen table. ‘Alright, alright, no need to shout, Daniels. I’ll be back tomorrow then. If you decide to stay another night, just send a text,’ he pauses and gives you a suggestive wink. ‘We can always send a car to pick you up instead at the end of the week.’
Whistling at Jameson to follow, Tequila calls out over his shoulder in farewell. ‘Keep your saddle oiled and your gun greased!’
As the door shuts behind him, you burst into laughter.
‘What the hell did he just say?’
The afternoon light filters through the half-drawn blinds over the bathroom window, casting shadows on the tiled floor that only grow longer as the lazy hours tick by.
The water has long gone tepid, your plans for what was meant to be a quick bath alone derailed when Jack climbed in after you.
The condoms are in the bedroom, and neither of you are inclined to leave the tub, so he has you spread in his lap, your tits heaving just above the waterline. Bubbles cling to your nipples as Jack draws slippery circles on your clit, sucking hot kisses onto the side of your neck.
‘Harder, Jack. Mark me, please,’ you beg. His cock is hot and heavy in your hand, and you feel him twitch as your words hit home.
‘Yeah? Want me to fuckin’ brand you, darlin’?’ he growls into your ear before sucking on your skin so viciously that you cry out, thrusting his fingers into you as you start to cum. You stroke him harder, feeling him tense behind you before a violent shudder goes through his body, harsh breaths in your ear as he lets go. ‘That’s it, darlin’. So good for me, cummin’ so hard on my fingers like that while I mark you -’
You slump bonelessly into Jack’s chest when your high passes, and you tilt your head backwards so that he can kiss you fully on your mouth, tongues meeting languidly, your nails sliding into his wet hair to pull him closer.
Nose in your temple, he eyes the blooming hickey on the base of your neck with a deep grunt of satisfaction.
Jack’s voice is warm against the shell of your ear as he ambles up behind you, big palms leaning on the kitchen counter on either side of you. ‘Is it regressive of me to find the sight of you cookin’ very sexy?’
You smile, not looking up as you measure out the dried pasta. ‘It might just be that I’m wearing nothing underneath your shirt.’
You shriek when he draws up the hem to see that you’re not lying, ducking to press an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your naked hip before wrapping his arms around you.
‘What’s on the menu, chef?’ he asks, chin on your shoulder.
‘Carbonara,’ you answer, the ingredients you found laid out on the kitchen counter, along with the freshly cut parsley that Jack got from the garden.
‘With cream and peas?’ he asks dubiously.
You toss him a look over your shoulder. ‘Didn’t peg you for a pasta snob, cowboy.’
He chuckles. ‘I’m not sure who will want to wring your neck first - Poppy or the Italians.’
‘Good thing I can count on you to get me out of a spot of trouble, can’t I?’
‘Depends on how good that carbonara is,’ he teases, letting out an exaggerated oomph when you gently elbow him in the stomach in rebuke. He adds, ‘You didn’t have to cook, you know. I would’ve been happy to do it.’
‘You deserve a break,’ you say as you crack an egg for the sauce. You pause, the words caught in your windpipe as you hesitate. When they do come out, you don’t sound as nonchalant as you would’ve liked to. ‘And I wanted to show you that I can feed myself when you’re not around to cook for me, cowboy.’
It’s the first time any mention of what lies beyond this week has been articulated between you two. The air shifts, and for a split second, the unwelcome weight of reality suddenly looms over you, all-consuming - until you feel Jack shuffle on his feet behind you.
His calloused palms close over hands - you’ve completely overbeaten the egg mixture while your mind wandered - and you set the bowl and fork down, your restless fingers gripping the edge of the countertop instead.
‘I have no doubt you will manage without me,’ he says, almost diplomatically.
But when his hands find your waist again, he holds you tighter.
Out on the deck, next to the stairs, stands a serious-looking telescope. Over the carbonara - a home run, by the way - you remind Jack he promised a couple of nights ago that he’ll show you the constellations. Warm from eating in front of the fire, you venture outside afterwards with just a thick blanket draped over Jack’s shirt, your legs bare from mid-thigh down.
But the cowboy’s not very inclined to keep his end of the bargain.
‘I could fuck you all day,’ he hums distractedly into your neck.
You roll your eyes fondly. ‘You have fucked me all day.’
‘I want to fuck you all day tomorrow, too.’
‘Cowboy -’
‘And the day after.’
‘Jack - ’
‘And the day after that.’
You know he doesn’t mean to, but your heart sinks at his casual mention of days after - how many more do you have left before it’s just… after?
After this week.
After this trip.
After Wyoming.
After Jack.
You can hear the sands shifting. You can no longer tell the top of the hourglass from the bottom.
But you can’t dwell on that - not now.
‘You said you’ll show me the stars, cowboy,’ you try to redirect the conversation as he slides a hand under the shirt and squeezes your breast. You arch into his touch - it is beyond your comprehension how your body is still responding after all that he’s tirelessly wrung out of it today.
‘Don’t worry, darlin’,’ he quips, his other hand delving underneath the layers to cup your bare pussy. ‘I’ll make sure you see stars, all right.’
Then he bends you over the white railing - the blanket discarded at your feet and your shirt hitched up around your waist - you faintly hear the clink of his belt buckle and the rustle of a condom packet before he’s pushing into your wet cunt.
Your bottom lip stings as your teeth close over it, his fingers lacing with yours on the bannister as he thrusts into you. His moans fill your ears as you take him, his cock ramming into you so hard that you’re pinned to the railing on your tiptoes by the sheer force of his fucking.
‘You can be as loud as you want, darlin’,’ Jack coaxes. Facing the other way, you can’t see him, but you can almost hear his teeth grind as he fights to hold on. ‘Let me hear you, please, I need to hear you -’
He has you panting into the Wyoming night sky, the sweet sound of his name on your lips something that he will remember you by - months from now, when he sits on the porch on his lonesome, another cohort of strangers fast asleep in the bed that you two once shared on a crisp midsummer night.
Notes: It was so much fun writing Tequila into this chapter after Jack and Darlin' have had so much alone time together! I know this was quite a short chapter compared to what's come before, but I think a lot of my anxiety was actually coming from chapters running (which means more time and more editing), so I think we might be seeing more compact chapters from now on.
I'm thrilled to see so many new readers these few weeks, but I noticed that most only like the chapters. This is a gentle reminder that comments and reblogs are strongly encouraged ❤️ We writers put in so much of our free time on our fics, all we ask for is meaningful interaction to keep us going!
Horsey notes: I was googling Southern sayings that Tequila could deliver as a punchline, and ridden hard and put away wet was so perfect that I laughed out loud when I discovered it because it was so on-theme!
The phrase describes someone who looks unwell, and has a horsey origin. You never put a horse away wet if he's sweaty or washed down, they should always be towelled or brushed dry. This is covered in the last chapter when Darlin' scrapes Whiskey dry after hosing him down.
#jack daniels fanfic#jack daniels x reader#jack daniels x f!reader#jack daniels x you#jack daniels#jack whiskey daniels#jack whiskey daniels x reader#agent whiskey x f!reader#agent whiskey x female reader#agent whiskey x you#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey
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ℙ𝕖𝕕𝕣𝕠 ℙ𝕒𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕝 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝔽𝕚𝕔 ℝ𝕖𝕔𝕤 ♡
𝓑𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓫𝔂 𝓣𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓙𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓼 𝓙𝓪𝓿𝓲
𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 (+18) 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩/𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩. 𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡.
ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ : ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ + ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ
♡ @chaotic-mystery
dbf!joel series (Dbf! Joel Miller x f!reader)
Warnings: mature (+18) smut, fluff, implied age gap (legal)
If you are looking for some nasty, toe curling smut, look no further because Maddi has mastered the craft! dbf!joel is just so hot.
___
♡ @loquaciousferret
Country Lovin’ (pre!outbreakJoel Miller x F!Reader)
Warnings: mature (+18) smut, alcohol use
Master list for other Pedro works
Love me some pre!outbreak joel
___
♡ @mishasminion360
In an Instant (Joel Miller x fem reader)
Warnings: mature (+18) canon typical violence/angst/death
Master list for other Pedro Works
this story absolutely shattered me. Ripped my heart out and stomped all over it. Beautiful writing.
___
♡ @lovers-liability
Close Your Eyes (Joel Miller x AFAB reader) *series*
Warnings: mature (+18) mentions of death, smut/fluff
Jaw dropping, stunning depictions of finding love during the apocalypse
___
♡ @forever-rogue
The Locket (Joel Miller x Fem!reader)
Warnings: mature (+18) TLOU canon typical violence, language, angst, mentions of death
Master list for other Pedro works
absolutely heartbreaking read. I loved it so much, I went back for seconds.
ꜰʀᴀɴᴋɪᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ : ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ + ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ
♡ @peterhollandkait
Everything I Know Leads Me Back To You (Frankie Morales x AFAB reader/ OC *series*
Warnings: mature (+18) addiction,angst, triggering themes, smut
Master list for other Pedro works
Frankie + Sunny = your heart getting crushed.
ᴊᴀᴠɪ ᴘ : ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ + ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ
♡ @loquaciousferret
Little Games (Javier Peña x f! Reader)
Warnings: mature (+18) smut
Master list for other Pedro Works
One word: delicious.
ᴊᴀᴠɪ ɢᴜᴛɪᴇʀʀᴇᴢ : ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ + ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ
♡ @mirasantidotes
Messy Annotations (Javi G x fem!reader) *series*
Warnings: none, tooth aching fluff,shy!javi G + sunshine! reader
Cutest shit I have read in awhile. Javi G is to die for in this one.
ᴅɪᴇᴛᴇʀ ʙʀᴀᴠᴏ : ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ + ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ
♡ @fuckyeahdindjarin
Consent Series (Dieter Bravo x Intimacy Coordinator F!Reader)
Warnings: mature/explicit content (+18) smut, gloriously douchey Dieter Bravo
Master list for other Pedro works
Cee’s writing of Dieter makes me absolutely feral. I would let this man ruin me any day of the week
___
♡ @whatsnewalycat
psychomanteum (Dieter Bravo x F!Reader) *series*
Warnings: mature (+18) alternating POV, death, drug use, alcohol use, spooky stuff
Master list for other Pedro works
This story deserves to be in it’s own category to be honest. Totally unique, eccentric, a must read!
ᴊᴀᴄᴋ (ᴡʜɪꜱᴋᴇʏ) ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟꜱ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ + ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ
♡ @fuckyeahdindjarin
Palomino Series (Jack Daniels x F!Reader)
Warnings: mature (+18) flirting, eventual smut, lots horsey details
Master list for other Pedro works
Cee and I became pals after I started reading this story. As a horse girl/equestrian, Palomino just itches my brain in the best way. Oh, and Jack is pretty delectable as well.
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴅᴀʟᴏʀɪᴀɴ/ᴅɪɴ ᴅᴊᴀʀɪɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ + ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ
♡ @theidiotwhowritesthings
Familiar & Unfamiliar (din djarin x female!reader)
Warnings: mature (+18) attempted assault on reader (not by Din), canon violence, angst, fluff, light smut
Din Djarin Masterlist
This is one of my favorite depictions of Din. Protective, soft, and still a little dom. Chefs kiss
___
♡ @frannyzooey
Take Me To Church (Din Djarin x Fem!Reader Western/AU)
Warnings: mature/explicit (+18) smut on smut on smut
Master list for other Pedro works
AU anything is so good, but this one? Takes the cake. Absolutely delicious in the every way possible.
#pedro pascal characters#joel miller#frankie morales#javi peña#javi gutierrez#dieter bravo#jack daniels#din darjin#pedro pascal fanfiction#fic recs#tightjeansjavificrecs#these are all so good#this took me forever#literally spent hours on this lol#joel miller fanfiction#frankie morales fanfiction#javier pena fic#javi g fanfiction#dieter bravo fanfiction#jack daniels fanfic#din dijarin fanfiction
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Hello Gorgeous
Agent Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Wife!reader
Summary: Your husband, Jack, has been out on the field recently. He was constantly travelling around the globe, leaving you and your four year old daughter on the ranch.
Warnings: fluff, angst but not really, no use of y/n, hottie cowboy is your husband, grammar and spelling mistakes (I'm dyslexic), you have a 4 year old daughter called Sophia, after the events of Kingsman Golden Circle, Jack isn't meat ;), slight sexual innuendo, reader is a housewife (don't we all want to be Jacks housewife???), Reader is referred to more “feminine” terms such as mom, mommy, wife that sort of stuff
A/N: Short little one shot. I wanted Jack to be happy. Also writing this I got distracted by roblox colour or die, and I won so :). Then I got distracted by work at a pizza place; this is probably what people mean by me having adhd. But I'm in denial, so I wrote this the day after :)
WC-1014
Masterlist
Pedro & Characters Masterlist
During the four months, your husband was away, you and your four year old had done multiple things to distract each other. In the beginning, you were just distracting Sophia with her dad not being home. This shortly changed when you started to miss him, meaning you had started hugging your little girl more often. Sophia had no objections to this. If her daddy wasn’t there to hug her, then she would have her mommy.
With the summer heat coming down onto your ranch, you made sure to spend every moment outside or have the curtain open. The driveway was filled with the multicoloured drawings of chalk Sophia had drew, accompanied by your handwriting for the “Sophia, Mommy, Daddy and the horses’ names”. Along the edges of the driveway, there used to be plain old boring grey rocks. The vast majority of the rocks were now coloured in many different mixes of paint.
Since Sophia was born, she was constantly being creative. This had carried on through to her being almost five. You and your husband learnt that to distract or make Sophia happy was to get the paints out. It's what you had been attempting to do throughout the four months. There hadn’t been any tears, not even when your clumsy girl had bumped into something, only the amazement of a purple bruise forming. Whilst your mothering skills were going overdrive being alone with some animals being bigger than you, and a small inquisitive child. Keeping the latter away from being unsupervised was hard with a massive land going so far out.
Today, you were brought with a surprise. Sophia was down in the dumps.
You had tried countless times to find what the problem was, but your mother's intuition only went so far. You started the morning with Sophia’s favourite; french toast, with extra sugar. This was enough to get a small smile and what the two of you were doing today. With Sophia always wanting to be creative and messy, she chose fingerpainting.
Setting up a blanket with a mat for the activities, Sophia brought the paints and paper. When Sophia was pressing her adorable small hands onto her ‘masterpiece’ it slowly clicked what the issue had been. Sophia had made a drawing of her dad riding on a horse with her or attempted it. Nevertheless, she was showing how she felt instead of telling you. Wiping your hands down, you shuffled towards your daughter.
“Is this what the problem is?” You quietly asked as you wrapped your arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple, much like what her father does to the two of you. “Are you missing Daddy?” Knowing that she had been caught she pouted her bottom lip and nodded.
After wiping the paint off of her fingers you lifted her into your lap, practically surrounding her with your body. “It's okay to cry, baby.” You comforted her, giving her more kisses. “I miss Daddy too, and when he comes back you can go out on the horsies again.” Giving her another kiss you started to see the smile that could light up a dark night sky. “There's that gorgeous smile!” As the smile got brighter, you came up with a solution to the horse problem. With being married to a cowboy, you had never learnt how to ride a horse. This was harsh for your little girl who wanted to do nothing more but ride them, even with her dad away, but the thought of you falling even with Jack there terrified you.
“How about we have our horsie fun?” You asked, seeing the confusion written across Sophia.
“Mama, you can’t ride the horsies. Silly!” Sophia was trying to figure out what you were thinking.
“Who said I was riding?” You got a shriek of enthusiasm from Sophia as you bounced your legs up and down. You carried on until the only thing you could hear from your baby was laughing her head off. “Let's finish our paintings and give them to Daddy when he comes home, how does that sound, sweetheart?”
Pulling up to the drive, Jack could see the pretty drawings he knew his little girl had spent time drawing. The sight of the rocks had also changed, there were pretty colours. He felt happy that his girls had kept themselves occupied in his absence. Walking through the ranch, no one was in. Checking in all of the rooms, and he couldn't find his girls.
Walking outside he could hear the laughter of what could be compared to angels singing. Looking out he saw the most beautiful sight known to man, his girls laughing and enjoying themselves. He was pulled out of his daze by himself and his inner voice, telling him to go see them.
“Hello, gorgeous.”
A familiar southern drawl spoke, alerting you and Sophia. His eye contact with you was broken by his little cowgirl running full speed at him. “Daddy!”
“Hiya, what’s my cowgirl been doin’?” He asked repositioning her onto his hip, still walking towards you.
“Me and Mommy drew you pictures!” Only this is when Jack noticed the paint on his clothes, as well as his princess's clothes and face.
“Oh, that's wonderful,” the mess didn't stop him, Sophia was happy and that's all that mattered. Taking a seat next to you, he instantly received a bundle of kisses. “I missed you baby.”
“I missed you more.”
Making dinner that night was the best feeling in the world for you and Jack. Sophia had her chicken nuggets whilst you and Jack had spaghetti bolognese. Stirring the bolognese, you felt a presence come up behind you. Sliding his hands along the sides of your waist, you were pulled into him.
“I really did miss you, Sugar,” Jack muttered into your ear. That's when you felt something growing against your ass. “Really missed you.”
“You can show me how much you missed me when Sophia is in bed.” You spoke into his neck, gazing your eyes up at your cowboy.
“Don't tempt me with a fun time, mama.”
#pedro pascal#pedrohub#fanfic#fanfiction#jack daniels#wife!reader#slight angst#mostly fluff#jack daniels x reader#jack whiskey daniels#jack daniels x you#jack daniels x female reader#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey#kingsman the golden circle#agent jack whiskey daniels#jack daniels fanfic
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14 x kisses - jack daniels x reader
prompt: sky
pairing: jack daniels x reader
word count: 656
notes: fluff, heavy on the equine (which I know nothing about, don't come for me), au as we don't know the movie here, no y/n, no reader description, jack being jack, don't have to read them but these two are from the december prompts
summary: valentines day on the ranch with one it's newest additions
x. masterlist
The horses were something you still left for Jack to contend with. Almost two years now of the both of you taking over the running of Opal's ranch and yet you still were not a fan of them. The ranch had started with two older horses, but with Jack's guidance there had been several new additions, including a foal Blue, who had been abandoned at birth. Ever since his arrival, he'd taken to Jack instantly, and the feeling was mutual.
That morning, as usual, Jack had gone out and done his rounds at the stables while you went to the office and handled the invoices and admin. A fair trade-off since you'd given up your job to move to the ranch full-time and still weren't up to speed with ranch life.
After hours of dealing with payroll and trying to figure out the amount of hay that needed to be ordered, you pushed your chair back and stood up. Stretching your arms above your head, you rolled your neck from side to side, enjoying the sensation of loosening up your body after being hunched over for so long.
You sighed, grateful for the brief respite from paperwork, and made your way outside to find Jack. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the ranch. The place was truly night and day since Jack had taken his stake in the place. You walked past the rows of wooden fencing, hearing the soft nickers and whinnies of the horses.
Your hand up to your eyes, shielding them from the sun, you spotted Jack. He was in the open paddock with Blue, the foal stuck to Jack's side despite his attempts to get him to take the free run. No matter how many times he pushed him away, Blue came back and nuzzled into his chest.
Jack let out a laugh, a genuine one, one that had been rare lately due to the pressure from the Statesman Ranch. The ranch shared a border with yours, and they were disputing where the boundary lay. He brought his head down to meet Blue's and kissed the foal's forehead. Blue snorted and playfully nipped at Jack's shirt, causing him to chuckle once more.
“You going to come any closer darlin'?” Jack called out, turning his head to tilt his hat at you, a wide smile on his face.
“Just admiring the view,” you shouted back, a smirk on your lips.
Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple, tossing it to you without warning. You caught it, albeit clumsily, your hands fumbling before securing the fruit.
“You should give Blue his Valentine's,” he said, his eyes shining with challenge and encouragement.
You hesitated, looking from the apple in your hand to Blue, who had now noticed you and was watching with curious eyes. “I don't think he's interested in anything I have to offer,” you said, trying to mask your nervousness with humour.
“Ah, come on. He's a little softie, aren't you, Blue?” Jack coaxed, patting Blue gently on the side. Encouraged by Jack's confidence, you took a hesitant step forward, extending the apple towards Blue.
The foal eyed you cautiously at first, but the allure of the apple was too much to resist. He took a step forward, his nose twitching as he caught the scent. Slowly, carefully, he took the apple from your hand, his lips tickling your palm as he did so, and you couldn't help but laugh.
“There, that wasn't so bad, was it?” Jack said, a proud smile on his face.
You shook your head, a smile spreading across your face. “No, it wasn't. Happy Valentine's, Blue.”
Jack wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Happy Valentine's, darlin',” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.
You leaned into him, cherishing the moment of peace as you took in the picturesque view of the ranch, “Happy Valentine’s Jack.”
#x29 valentines#jack whiskey daniels#jack x mabel#agent jack whiskey daniels#jack daniels fanfiction#jack daniels fanfic#jack daniels x you#jack daniels x reader#jack daniels x gn!reader#jack daniels x f!reader#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
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flirty whiskey hopelessly in love with a shy reader
AWwwWWWw, okay bb
Sorry this took so long babes-
Also, I'm soo using the quote in this-
-------------------------------------------------------
You sat at the bar as you watched your friends dance with random men, nursing a blue Hawaiian. Now, most people would be lonely sitting by themselves while their friends had fun without them, but you? You loved it.
People watching was one of your favorite hobbies. Seeing people all dressed up and dancing, having the time of their lives after a long day made you really happy. It was almost like watching a live show.
And your favorite character of the night was sitting in the corner, sipping on what seemed to be a whiskey on ice. You've been watching him since you got here, and you were honestly shocked he hadn't noticed your staring yet.
"Hey!" Your friend said as she hugged you; though it was more of her draping her body on top of yours than anything.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
"I'm tired. And I wanted to see you!" She sat on the seat next to you, asking the bartender for another shot of tequila.
You nodded, taking another sip from your drink. You glanced back at the corner of the room where the man had been sitting, noticing his disappearance.
You were honestly disappointed. Maybe in another lifetime you would've asked him out, or at the very least asked him for his name, but sadly, that would never happen in this one.
"My god, you have got to be the prettiest woman I've ever seen." A man said from behind you, a deep Southern accent evident in his tone.
You assumed he was talking to your friend, honestly used to it at this point.
"What's a handsome man like you doing here?" Your friend said, twisting her hair around her finger as she looked up at him, batting her eyelashes.
The man cleared his throat. "Respectfully ma'am, I wasn't talking to you."
You glanced behind you, making direct eye contact with the man from the corner. Shit-
You quickly turned your head back, staring down at your drink.
"Ugh, whatever, I've gotta piss anyway." Your friend said with a sigh, slightly slurring her words.
"I thought you wanted to go home?" You grabbed her hand, looking at her with panic in your eyes. Please don't leave me alone right now.
"Umm, no?" Your friend tugged her arm away, storming off towards the bathrooms, obviously offended.
"This seat taken?" The man asked, gesturing to the newly available seat.
You silently shook your head, keeping your eyes down.
"I'm Agent Whiskey, but you can call me Jack."
Agent? You wondered which agency he worked for. There had to be a million in Texas.
You responded with a simple nod.
Whiskey sighed, leaning in a bit closer. "Don't be shy, sugar. I saw you starin'."
Your eyes snapped up to look at him; so he had noticed?
Whiskey huffed out a laugh. "What? You thought I wouldn't notice a pretty girl starin' at me like that all night?"
"I'd hoped not." You mumbled, picking at a hang nail on your thumb.
Whiskey stood up, resting his arms on the bar as he leaned in close, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. "Listen here baby, how would you like to ride home on a real cowboy? I've got a six pack on ice and my roomies out all night, so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar."
Chills ran down your spine as blood rushed to your cheeks, your thighs squeezing together. "Excuse me?" You looked up at him, the smirk he had making it hard to maintain eye contact.
"You heard me. So, what'll it be, sugar? I ain't got all night."
"I don't know-"
"Hey now, don't listen to this." He said, gently poking your head. "But listen to this." Whiskey set his hand on your knee, slowly dragging it up your thigh.
You grabbed his hand, not enough to stop it, but enough to make you feel like you were in control. You were conflicted; the logical side of your mind was screaming for you to run away as fast as you could, but your heart?
Your heart was beating a million miles an hour and was practically begging for you to say yes.
"What about my friends? I can't just leave them."
"You didn't see them 'em slip out the door not even five minutes ago?" Whiskey asked, jabbing his thumb behind him towards the door.
"What?" You glanced around the room, your 'friends' nowhere in sight. "What the fuck." You mumbled, throwing back the rest of your drink.
"So?" Whiskey asked, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear.
You looked up at him, a beautiful shade of crimson painted on your cheeks. Fuck it.
You sighed. "Okay."
#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey#agent whiskey fanfiction#jack daniels x reader#jack daniels#jack daniels fanfic#kingsmen golden circle fanficton#kingsmen#kingsmen golden circle#statesmen#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal#jose pedro balmaceda pascal
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The Riding Lesson
Summary: When you are hired at a ranch as a trail guide, the owner asks the foreman to teach you how to ride Western style.
Pairing: Jack Daniels x F!Reader
Rating: 18+ (to be safe)
Warnings: Some sexual tension and thoughts, lots of horsey terms
Word Count: 2,381
Author's Note: AU fic for the @pedrostories 1k celebration. Prompt quote was "Is that the best you've got?"
See my Main Masterlist for other Pedro character fanfics.
xxx
Summers were a busy time at Western Willow Ranch. Not only were there the beef cattle and their calves to tend to, but there were also guests coming and going for both morning and afternoon trail rides.
You were hired as a temporary employee, needed for the surplus of guests they got every year as the weather turned hot. Your role would be to help guide trail rides and keep the tack clean and polished.
Having grown up around horses and competed in jumping competitions back in California, you had plenty of experience for the job, except for one small detail.
You'd never ridden Western before.
You were confident you'd pick it up fast though. English and Western riding were different, but they weren't intimidatingly different. As far as you could tell, the only difference was the saddle shape, the speed of the horse, and the way the reins were held and used.
Though you figured you could probably teach yourself, you'd still agreed with the owner of the ranch to take a riding lesson with his foreman.
You had your riding lesson on your very first day, after you were shown around the farm by a stable hand and shown what a typical morning was like at the ranch.
The foreman was one of the few employees missing from the barn, having been out tending to the cattle.
After lunch in the employee building, you waited for him in the barn aisle as instructed, glancing at your watch every so often. The lesson had been set for one o'clock and it was ten minutes past.
He was worth the wait though.
He strolled into the barn with his mount moments later, the beautiful golden buckskin gelding following behind obediently, and you caught your breath.
Most horsemen didn't catch your attention. More often than not the horse was a lot prettier than their rider, but the foreman was handsome, and that was an understatement. Dark brown hair covered by a black cowboy hat, matching dark eyes, a mustache that fit his face perfectly, a strong jawline, curved nose, and an air of confidence to him, he was worthy of the front cover of every western magazine out there as far as you were concerned.
You couldn't help but feel disappointed he was technically one of your bosses. You didn't like mixing business and pleasure, but... damn... maybe if he didn't mind it, you could make an exception.
You shook your head at that thought. You haven't even said one fucking word to him yet. Down girl.
He said your name and it sounded like honey on his lips. You chewed yours. You really needed to chill, but it wasn't your fault his voice sounded sinful.
"That's me," you managed to say, lamely raising a hand up.
"Sorry about the wait, darlin'," he continued. "One of the calves got into trouble with the fencing."
"Are they alright?" you asked, genuinely concerned. You loved all animals, or at least, all the furry ones.
He nodded. "Yeah, he'll be just fine."
He held out his right hand. "The name's Jack Daniels."
You shook his hand firmly and repeated yours. "So, is this the horse I'm riding?" You nodded at his mount.
Jack shook his head. "Nope. Ace here is a one rider kind of horse. He don't like strangers. But I'm going to have you help me untack and groom him so I can show you the saddle and how to secure the cinch."
It turned out the cinch was like the girth on the English saddle, a strap that ran under the horse's belly to secure the saddle to their back. The cinch wasn't so simple to adjust as a girth was. The strap was longer and needed to be wrapped just right around the ring it looped through multiple times to fit proper.
You picked it up fast though, only needing Jack to show you twice to get it.
When you'd done up the cinch correctly three times in a row Jack let you untack Ace completely and had you carry the saddle back to the tack room. The saddle was probably three times as heavy as an English saddle, mostly due to the extra lift of the seat and the saddle horn. You managed to carry the saddle for the whole two minute walk to the tack room but it was a struggle, not that you'd have admitted it.
Once the tack was cleaned and put away you returned to Jack's side in Ace's stall. He was in the middle of brushing him with a soft brush and you joined in without a word, working on the horse's opposite side.
After Ace was completely groomed you both stepped out of the stall.
"Follow me to your horse of the day," Jack ordered, walking over to a stall at the back of the barn. You did as told and peered over the stall door.
A pretty little black and white mare was on the other side, too busy chewing her afternoon hay to pay attention to you and Jack.
"This here's Puzzle," he informed you. "She's an old gal. Nearly thirty. We don't ride her much anymore, but she's a great beginner horse. She'll be as patient as a lamb with you."
Were lambs patient? you wondered. Was that term even a thing?
Jack patted the saddle and bridle that were hanging over her door. "Had Bettie, one of the stable hands, get this for us this morning. I want you to groom Puzzle and saddle her up all on your own. Think you can do that?"
"No problem," you declared, setting to work.
It really wasn't a problem, though you did fumble on the cinch for a second before your short-term memory kicked in. Most else was pretty straight forward and Jack gave you an approving nod when you were finished.
"Great," he said, "Now she's all set to go, lead her out to the corral and we'll get going on the main part of this lesson."
You nodded and walked out of the stall with Puzzle close beside you. She was a cute thing. You were a bit sad she was too old to be assigned as your mount. Whichever horse you got would be at least a decade younger and more energetic. While those were the horses you were used to, you'd felt like you and Puzzle were already connecting.
Once you slipped into the outdoor corral, a round fenced in pen used for training horses, you settled the reins of the bridle over Puzzle's neck and the saddle horn before glancing to Jack for further instruction.
"Hop on," Jack commanded. "We'll get everything adjusted after."
You nodded and swung up into the saddle easily.
"How do the stirrups feel?" Jack inquired.
You tilted your heels down. "A little long. But they're supposed to be, right? Western isn't so tight?"
"It should still feel comfortable," Jack replied.
"It does."
"Good. Tighten that cinch one more time. Puzzle likes to stick out her gut when the saddle goes on."
You bent and reached to untie the cinch and tightened it, but when it came to securing it back you struggled due to the angle.
"Just takes practice," Jack assured you when you admitted you couldn't figure it out. "Here, let me help."
He approached Puzzle and tapped on your lower leg with a few fingers to signal to you to pull it back, still in the stirrup so he could get access to the cinch.
You did that and watched as he tugged on it once more before finishing the job.
When he was done, he grabbed your left lower leg, guiding it back into place, and the prolonged warm touch of his palm pressed against your jeans sent a spark through you.
What you would give for him to touch you in other places.
Jack stepped away to climb the fence and straddle it and you barely held your composure. Fuck, this job was going to be difficult, and it wasn't because of the new riding style you had to learn.
"Hold the reins with one hand centered over her neck," Jack instructed as he perched on the top railing.
You grabbed the reins and slid your fingers over into the correct position.
"Good, now take her around at a walk for a few turns and then a jog after," Jack said. "A jog's like a slow trot, for you, city girl," he added.
A decade ago teenage you would've stuck out your tongue at him, but mature you simply gave him another nod and followed his orders.
Jack was quiet as you put Puzzle through her paces, until she started jogging and you started pushing yourself up and down out of the saddle with her stride.
"What're doin' darlin'?" Jack questioned, frowning. "You sit in the saddle."
"Oh." You blushed as you sat down and slowed Puzzle. His confusion somehow had made you embarrassed about it. "It's posting. Do you not do that in Western?"
"Nope," Jack answered. "That saddle ain't made for that."
"Okay," you nearly squeaked.
You nudged Puzzle with your heels, encouraging her back into a jog and completed your task sitting down the whole time. You found that the jog was more tolerable to sit than a trot. Riding a trotting horse like that could be rough at times.
You stopped in the center of the round pen when you were done.
"How was that?" you asked almost shyly.
Jack gave you a small smile. "Excellent for your first time. It's obvious how many years you've ridden."
"Thanks."
"I think you're ready for a test run on the trail."
"On Puzzle?" you questioned.
Jack shook his head. "Like I said, she's too old. Gonna have to bring her back to her stall and get two fresh horses saddled up. Shouldn't take too long between the two of us."
You nodded and jumped off Puzzle. "Let's get to it then."
x
An hour later you and Jack were out on the plains of the surrounding Montana landscape, enjoying an easy stroll under the warm afternoon sun on two new mounts.
His was a solid chestnut mare named Trix, and yours was a black mare with a star marking named Karma.
As you moved over the landscape Jack pointed things out to you. The trailheads, the river that bordered the ranch, the cattle in the distance. Everything you'd need to know and would eventually know by the back of your hand.
The sun was beginning to fall westerly when he finished showing you around.
"You will not be alone the first few weeks you guide trail rides so we don't have to worry about checking those out today," Jack told you. "So I figure it's time to turn around."
You nodded and pulled the reins towards east, towards where the ranch house and barn were located. Jack did the same.
"Let's lope for part of the way," Jack decided.
You knew it was another test. "Sure."
He picked up the pace first and you sent Karma after him and Trix, making sure to keep enough distance between the horses as you caught up to them so not to cause them to bump into each other.
He observed you from the corner of his eye, a ghost of a smile on his pouty looking lips.
You tried not to get distracted by it, telling yourself he was only looking because he wanted to see how you were in the saddle at faster speeds, even though you sensed there was something more to it.
You were the first to slow your horse, and when Jack had Trix back at a walk beside you, he raised his eyebrows.
"Is that the best you got?"
You blinked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
He grinned at you and you realized then that Jack Daniels was a bit of a menace.
He gestured at a fallen log several yards away. "I heard about your jumping skills. Show me?"
You didn't know if Karma had any history jumping, but the log looked harmless, just thick enough to force the mare to jump it instead of walk over it. "Sure."
You kicked the mare and she immediately shot into a lope, headed straight for the log. You focused, got yourself into position as best as you could in the bulky western saddle, and the next thing you knew you were flying over the obstacle. The rush of adrenaline as you did was amazing as always.
After Karma landed on the other side you could hear Jack clapping.
You turned her back towards him as you both settled into a walk again.
"You two make a fine team," Jack said. "Think I'll tell Dusty to assign you to her."
You grinned. "That would be great." You still were kinda stuck on Puzzle, but you really liked Karma too.
You patted her neck and turned her to face the house once more. "Race you back, full gallop."
Jack smiled. "You're on."
x
After you and Jack had settled your horses back into their stalls, he turned to you for a final time that night.
"Any questions before I go?"
You shrugged. "Not really. Just...how was I today?"
He flashed you a charming smile. "You impressed me darlin'. Not that I have any right to be. You obviously know your way around horses and jumping them is not the easiest."
"Why did you test me then?" you inquired.
"Cause you could've lied on your resume," Jack replied.
True enough. But you had ribbons to prove it back home.
"See you around," he finally said, and you could've sworn he gave you a quick once over. When he smirked you were certain he had.
So you weren't the only one interested. This was a mutual thing. Your heart fluttered. There was a chance.
"See you around, cowboy," you returned smoothly.
He beamed at you, delighted that you had used a nickname for him and tipped his head. "Night darlin’."
And with that he left the barn, and left you to watch him go, eyes trained on the shape of his ass in his tight blue jeans.
You hummed appreciatively. This summer is going to be fantastic.
xxx
Tagged: harriedandharassed
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#Jack Daniels Fanfic#Jack Daniels#Pedro Pascal Character Fanfic#pedrostories1k#f!reader#X Reader#Fanfic AU#Fanfiction#Mine
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HEARTLESS 💔 - FINAL CHAPTER
Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader
Summary: A wedding, a new addition to the family and revisiting memories finally bring the Daniels family their well-deserved happy ending ❤️
(This is the last chapter of the HEARTLESS 💔 series)
• YOU CAN READ THE ENTIRE SERIES ON MY MASTERLIST
Warnings: a tad bit of angst (but not really, it's mostly just expressing emotions and revisiting sad memories), mentions of suicidal thoughts, fluff, brief smut (more like mentions of it), tension, talks of becoming a widow, Wyatt and his baby sister being the most adorable kids in the world, happy ending ❤️
A/N: it took me so long to get this done, I guess nearly six months, I don't know, I feel I sort of lost my way with this story, but I had to come back and finish our cowboy adventure, give them their happy ending. I love you all and I really hope you enjoy this chapter, I thank you everyone who has followed this story and showed me support through all these months of writing! It wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you ❤️🫶
12.6k words
Nothing could have prepared you for the reaction your cowboy had the moment you broke the news to him you were pregnant - or rather he found out about it by spotting the test boxes in the bathroom trash. You had been worried about everything, so many scenarios running through your head, always anticipating the worst and making you fear each single measure he could take. Just to have a grown ass cowboy on his knees before you, his face resting against your womb as he blinked away the tears that insisted on flooding those brown baby cow eyes of his. He just worshiped you, mumbling so many words you couldn't quite tell what they were, but the way he looked up at you, as if you were his whole world, made your heart skip a beat. It was a terrifying change, but you oddly didn't feel scared, not at that moment, not when you had Whiskey at your feet, showing he wasn't going anywhere, he was committed and devoted to you, to his family, a family that was growing, just like that tiny little seed in your womb, that was going to grow into a full baby, a blessing to that undeserving man, something he prayed for every single night, there was nothing Jack Daniels wanted more than to be a good man to his family, to be the husband and the father you and the kids deserved.
The kids.
He chuckled to himself at the thought of it, something that seemed just like a distant dream short days ago, was now a reality, the fact Wyatt was about to become a big brother, and the overwhelming love he felt for his son, also multiplying towards his second child. It was also terrifying to him, to love someone he hadn't even met yet, and how that could be taken away from in the blink of an eye like it happened to him before. He shook his head, squinting his eyes unaware of the tears that rolled down his cheeks, chasing those thoughts away. Nothing would happen to his family, you, Wyatt and the little angel inside of you would be just fine, because that was his responsibility and he would fight for it until his last breath. You felt his tears against your bare skin and a gut feeling told you exactly what he was thinking about, you didn't want him suffering for that, things wouldn't be as tragic as they were, Jack Daniels was a heavily traumatized man, who lived in fear of losing his family by not being good enough to protect them. You couldn't let your cowboy suffer in anticipation like that, so you pushed him gently, sitting on the floor to face him in the same eye level and stroked his cheek, the way his eyes were red with tears and he sniffed even if he tried his best to control his emotional reaction, reminded you so much of Wyatt, your son being the tiny little version of him. You placed your lips on Jack's forehead, then you went to his cheek kissing his tears away and finally to his lips, never breaking eye contact, at the same time he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible, needing the reassurance only your touch could provide. You kept your cowboy so close to your heart, taking deep breaths and letting his presence sink in, finally realizing how much you'd missed your cowboy, spending days apart from him. You had been so deep into your own thoughts after finding out about the pregnancy you completely neglected the side that craved your cowboy with you. You wanted to hold him, kiss and make love to him, but at that moment, you could see the vulnerability in his eyes.
It broke your heart; Jack was a strong, fearless man towards anything that did not involve his family. He was able to take down dozens of enemies in a fight, he could face the most furious bull in a ring, he didn't fear death or pain when he was out in the world protecting a nation that didn't even know they were in danger to begin with, but he was not that brave when it came to his sugar and his son, and especially not once they added a baby into the mix. One could call him paranoid, but he was just not willing to take the slightest risk, it had happened once, it wasn't going to happen twice.
"Sugar, I-”
His voice cracked, he had tears in his eyes, threatening to spill at any given second, he wanted to promise you, word it out loud how hard he would fight for you, for your relationship as a couple, your upcoming wedding, he wanted to assure you you could splurge as much as you wanted, choose whatever made you happy, he wanted to throw himself at your feet like the dog he was, he wanted to cry and beg your forgiveness even if he had already done that before, more than once, and even if you, out of your superior state of grace, had forgiven him. He wanted to tell you he knew he wasn't worthy of you, but he wasn't strong enough to keep away, he wanted to swear you and the kids would be forever safe, he would do anything you wanted him to: quit Statesman, throw away all his lassos and whips, he would become a goddamn farmer if it were up to you. He wanted to thank you for bringing sense into his life again, for robbing him from those depreciating, suicidal thoughts. He wanted to thank, and beg and promise you, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything at all, all he did was blinking his tears, letting them run down his cheeks. You knew it, you knew it all, he didn't have to say it, you could feel it from his heart to yours. Caressing his cheek gently, you nodded, leaned towards him and kissed his lips once more.
"I know cowboy, I know it”
�� •••
The slight noise of crayons sliding through a sheet of paper filled your ears and brought your attention back to reality. You focused your eyes on the bright colorful shades that added a meaning to a confusing drawing Wyatt was finishing. A pillow under his bum so he could be tall enough to use the coffee table as his personal art table, while he glanced at his baby sister, Rosie, who rested in her baby seat and watched attentively her big brother's every move. The eight-month-old cooed and kicked her little legs, wanting Wyatt's attention back at her, their bond being as strong as it was the day she was born, he giggled at her.
"Calm down, Rosie… I will continue the story in a minute” he said in his smart pants way and turned his head at you, knowing something was up. Wyatt was only six - proudly going 7 in a few months, but he was able to tell whenever you were lying to him. He'd asked if you were alright a couple of times in the last hour, and you'd said yes. But you clearly weren't fine.
Dropping his crayons, he got up and walked towards you, bright brown eyes staring into yours and a comforting smile.
“What happened, mommy?”
“N-nothing happened, honey… why don't you go and keep telling Rosie the story… What story was it?”
"The story of us before she was born…” he said proudly and you let out a chuckle, of course he would want his little sister to know her origins and tell her everything that happened in the months that followed your wedding proposal up to her birth. You allowed yourself to stop the mental torture and point at Rosie who kept cooing in order to have Wyatt talking to her as she loved. As much as the sight melted your heart, a heavy weight in your chest stopped you from taking another breath without feeling pain. Jack should have been there with you. He should be sitting right next to you, playing with his kids and giving you all sorts of dirty smirks hinting at what would go on in your shared bedroom once the kids were off to dreamland. But he wasn't, and you swallowed hard every time you thought about it. You hadn't lied to Wyatt at all, when you said nothing happened; because nothing indeed had happened, the real problem was that something should have happened. He should have declined Champ’s request for a last mission, and being the stubborn cowboy he was, when he got there, he should've killed his enemies straight away, he should have answered Statesman's official communication channels, and above all, he should have arrived home two days ago.
You didn't get contact from him and neither did the agency, even if they actually sent Ginger to your ranch so she would keep you company and make sure you weren't lost in bad thoughts, even if she stood in your kitchen making you a cup of tea, always offering you dozens of stories in which Whiskey managed to save the day and showed up at the last minute, it still didn't work, quite the opposite, it made it everything worse. But you had to remain strong for the kids, there was no reason to spread panic, even if you were feeling panic yourself, you couldn't do that to them.
You hugged your little boy tight, burying your face into his soft curls, and smiled, looking at your precious Rosie, picking her up from her seat and holding her gently.
"Go ahead, love” you told your son and Wyatt smiled, giggling and tickling her tiny little feet.
"So… after daddy found out you were a little seed in mommy's tummy…”
And at your son's sweet words towards your daughter, your mind drifted off to the memories he was taking so much pride in telling her.
•••
“Honey, it's okay, I'm fine, our baby is fine” You'd told your cowboy for the third time but he wasn't convinced just yet, it had been a silly little accident and nothing more: you’d been playing tag with Wyatt and Jack outside when a chicken running lose crossed your path and your tripped over it. Thinking in retrospect, it wasn't silly, it was plain stupid actually, but the moment Jack saw you tumbling, he ran towards you as fast as possible, immediately lifting you up and placing his hand on your belly. The pregnancy was now two months along, and your soon-to-be husband was always in a state of alert, just like a guard dog, he wouldn't leave your side unless it was strictly necessary to, and at any slight glimpse of danger - well, his exaggerated conception of danger -, he would be ready to act.
"Sugar please, you fell down, that's something pregnant women aren't supposed to do, let's just go to town, get you to the clinic, have one of those fancy ultrasounds exams and make sure everything’s fine. Afterwards, Wyatt can have one of those happy meals he loves and you can check up any remaining wedding details you'd like to”
You both knew there was no detail you hadn't double checked in the month and a half you'd found out about the pregnancy. Your wedding was all set and ready to take place - a week from then, at the Daniels’ ranch. Everything was thoughtfully chosen, organized and done despite how fast things were going. However, the fear in that man's eyes made you nod and agree to his request. You knew you were okay, just as your baby was okay, but he didn't, not when his worst nightmare haunted him every single day, giving him no breaks or concessions; the horror of losing yet another child taking away his logical rational side more often than he'd liked. So you did it for him, for your worried cowboy. For the cowboy who wouldn't keep his hand away from your small baby bump and would pray silently for things to be okay.
“Alright Jack, let's go”
You gave in to his request and allowed him to help you climb up the Bronco, along with Wyatt safely tucked in the backseat just a few moments after he ran inside to grab you and himself a jacket. Your heart clenched with an overwhelming wave of love, your family was so perfect it didn't even seem to be real. As you watched the ranch become smaller and smaller in the rear mirror, Wyatt played with some dinosaur toys in the backseat, you noticed the cemetery entrance Whiskey drove by; the same cemetery Gabriella was buried with her unborn baby and that brought another pang towards your chest. You thought of her and her baby, and the joy and expectations she must've had, you thought of your own cowboy, and how hard it must've been for him to receive the news that destroyed his life. Placing your hand on your womb, you stroked it gently. You weren't worried until then, but the cold realization of what happened to your fiance, was enough to spike the doubt. Life was going so well for you, perhaps too well, and you worried at some point the good wave of luck would die out. Thoughts wandered, but a heavy hand rested on your thigh, snapping you out of your thoughts. Jack glanced at you, still keeping his attention on the road, but making sure to look into your eyes.
"It's going to be fine sugar, our sweet little bean is here, safe and sound”
You nodded thankfully for his words and tried calming down, knowing you'd be in town soon.
You could list the most emotional moments of your life: your first kiss, your first love, the first time you ever saw that pathetic handsome cowboy, the instant you fell in love with him, your first time with your cowboy, the first time you exchanged love words, finding out you were pregnant with Wyatt, listening to his first heartbeats and you could spend a lifetime listing all of those moments. So you figured the moment you heard your newest baby's heartbeat for the first time, you wouldn't become too emotional, but you were definitely wrong. The moment the loud heartbeat filled the room, your heart raced like crazy, looking around you saw your cowboy's eyes filled with tears, a sweet smile as he leaned in and pecked your lips gently, at the same time Wyatt's happy grin also caught your attention. The way he clapped his small hands so excitedly and giggled.
“See mommy? Baby sissy is alright!”
He said happily, as he was sure he would get a sister, and turns out, he was right all along.
That night, after Wyatt was safely tucked into bed, Jack came over to you, a basket and blankets in hand, a shit eating grin as he cornered you and kissed your cheeks, before going south and getting to your neck. Goosebumps spread all over your skin, you knew exactly what he was thinking of and you couldn't help but chuckle. He was still your handsome, charming silly cowboy and you loved him with every fiber of your being. He didn't even need to say anything, just offering you his hand, knowing you'd take it without questioning and without further ado, you two were quickly running through the green grass of the ranch, escaping to your old getaway spot, the one you'd spend uncountable hours with your cowboy, just enjoying the sunlight or the moonlight, relaxing and hiding away from everything and everyone. The early stages of your relationship, where you didn't know if you and the cowboy would actually become something more than a steamy affair, before even dreaming of getting pregnant with his child and going through everything you did. You would both get into your favorite date place: the barn.
Just a blanket to make things comfortable, some treats to nibble on and all the love flowing through your veins.
"It's been so long since we came here” you told Whiskey, as he opened the door and welcomed you after him. He didn't say anything, not before pressing you against the wall and stealing a kiss. And that cowboy was hungry for you. The way his hands gripped your waist before roaming over you, his heavy breathing and a whole new discharge of hormones thanks to your pregnancy, got you so worked up, your hands sinking into the softness of his hair, his stetson lying on the floor at how fast your make out session started.
"Missed you, sugar.. it was about time we came up to our good ol' barn, ain't it right? Just us… ‘cause mommy and daddy gotta have their fun” Jack's heavy breathing was so enticing to you, the way he hungrily went over to your neck and without you even noticing him, he had set the blanket on the floor, making it a cozy place for the two of you to lie down among stacks hay. Smooth dirty cowboy, must've done that a thousand times. If those barn walls could talk, they'd certainly tell the most explicit erotic tales, ones out of many that were actually starred by you. However, there was no place for jealousy of the past, instead you focused on the bright future you got ahead of you and the known fact you were now the only one going to the barn with your cowboy. No other woman would touch him but you, and that was priceless.
By the time you were both finished with your round, all that was left was resting against each other's body. His arms firmly wrapped around you, short nails scratching up and down your naked back, at the same time you nuzzled his chest. His warm skin and his heartbeat, those small details reminding you it was real. Your happiness was real. Love overflowing you at all times and nothing could be better at that moment. As you shifted and lay on your back, Jack's hand immediately rested on your baby bump. It was still quite small, but you could both see it taking its shape, it was your child growing healthy and strongly inside of you. The mixture of you and the cowboy, the final proof your love was so abundant it flooded into something more. Whiskey's hand stroked your skin, a distant smile on his face, as so much went through his mind. He couldn't help but experience so many feelings at once: love, fear, excitement, regret, grief. All of that mixed up in the handsome mess he was. He couldn't wait to meet his sweet daughter, because just like Wyatt, he was also certain it was time for a baby girl Daniels to make her debut in the family, yet, he couldn't help feeling the bitter taste of regret, thinking of all the wasted time and opportunity he could've spent around you and baby Wyatt. Thinking of how he could've and should've been there for you and him. Your first pregnancy, how everything was so new and scary, how hard and stressful things were, how much you and your son needed him. He closed his eyes and silently prayed for forgiveness, trying to convince himself better late than never, which was true, but he could've been a better man. His mind also drifted to very old times, when he wasn't much more than a boy recently graduated from high school, a wedding ring shining and a beautiful, young and bright Gabriella expecting their baby boy. She was supposed to have gone to college that year, if she hadn't gotten pregnant, Jack knew she would've made a great lawyer, exactly like she dreamed of; he often blamed himself for robbing her of her bright future, even if he knew he would've managed to work and given her and their son the best life possible. It was a topic he discussed several times in therapy and grief counseling. At first, he was adamant about not wanting to do it, but Champ only gave him two options: either treat his old deep wounds, or leave Statesman behind and start over with no job, no money, no support. And he was being kind, because more than once Jack heard people telling straight up to his face he should be rotting in jail. The truth was that Champ was right, he needed to, he should've treated himself years ago, it made him understand and finally accept that no one was to blame, but the killers who ended Gabriella's and the baby's lives. It made him see, he had loved them with all his heart, but he was still alive and he was entitled to be happy, he shouldn't feel guilty about loving someone else, about wanting to build a life with someone other than Gabriella, and above all, he understood that his sweet Gabriella would want the same for him, because he was sure if he was the one who died that night at a convenience store, he would never wish her a lifetime of sorrow and grief like he led.
"I think you're miles away from here, Jack…” your voice had snapped him out of his thoughts and brought him back to reality, just as your touch, fingers running through his hair as he chuckled and nodded.
"Just thinking about life, that's all”
"You know I love you, right, cowboy?”
“I do, just as I love you sugar. With my whole heart”
He pecked your lips and then got to your belly, his mustache tickling your skin as he left a trail of little butterfly kisses on your bump.
“And I love you too, baby, with all my soft old heart, a broken heart fixed with so much love and patience by your beautiful mama, your handsome big brother and by you, because I'm sure you're daddy's little sheep”
•••
"... So when you still lived in mommy's tummy, daddy called you little sheep, because you were too tiny to be a cowboy and also a girl” Wyatt giggled at his own joke and cooed as Rosie clapped her chubby hands. Your kids’ genuine happiness and innocence filled your heart with love and pride, and the fact your cowboy wasn't anywhere Statesman looked for him, only fueled the worst fears and thoughts you had going on. Raising your two kids on our own wouldn't be impossible, you'd done it before with Wyatt, you'd been strong enough to do it, but that was not the occasion any longer. You wanted your cowboy by your side, Jack and you were meant to be, you were married now and you wanted nothing more than to stay with him for the rest of your life, to watch your kids grow and grow old with him. You loved him with all your heart and that lack of news was driving you insane. Turning to Ginger, she simply shook her head, still no sign of him, and it pierced your heart. You wanted your sweet handsome Jack next to you, so you could both enjoy your family.
"... And then Rosie, mommy married daddy and it was under the willow tree! Remember we played snowman last Christmas there?! Mommy looked like a princess! Mommy, tell Rosie you looked like a princess!”
Wyatt tugged at you and caught your attention again, you kissed your daughter's head gently and then stroked your son's beautiful face. He was the sweetest child you'd ever met, he'd been your best friend for so long, you just nodded at his words.
"And you tell Rosie you looked like a tiny little prince and walked mommy down the aisle!”
“So Rosie…, Mommy and daddy's wedding was so fun! Let me tell you…”
•••
The arrangements for the wedding weren't as complicated as you thought they'd be, not when you had Whiskey by your side, always willing to make your dream - and his, come true. No matter the decoration, the dress, the flower arrangement or the buffet. Anything was perfect for him, because at the end of the day, you'd be his forever, his wife, the mother of his beautiful children. You'd sign your name as Mrs.Daniels, just like Wyatt and your baby would. And he couldn't wait for that to become true.
Taking advantage of the fact it was awfully warm for December, you both decided to hold the wedding at the ranch, where you could fit all the guests - nothing too much, just friends, some relatives, fellow agents on Whiskey's part, anyway - and all the other things implied by a wedding: a beautiful altar, a nice dance floor and all the great amount of flowers your cowboy insisted on you gifting you with, roses of course, he loved those as a little boy because his grandma and mama loved them, and it's a commonly well-known fact that above being a Mama's boy, Jack Daniels had been a grandma's boy, which only made you love him even more. He was a roses man, and you knew with all your heart that a little Rosie was growing up in your belly, the perfect mixture of your love and the cowboy's, just like your handsome, precious son Wyatt, was.
The location chosen at the ranch could only be by the willow trees, such a special place for you and your family, it was bound to become even more special. It would be the place where you and Jack would exchange your vows of always loving each other and your family; it was beautiful. The directions were also perfect, the exact balance between simple and elegant. Nothing to be too much, just some fairy lights carefully placed on the trees, white chairs on the green field and several roses of all colors scattered all over the place. You'd always heard men didn't usually take part in those details, but your Whiskey couldn't be further from that; he loved spending every moment helping you decide what you wanted and giving some of his thoughts too. The cake tasting was also another happy occasion: Jack made sure to take you to the best bakery in town, you, him and Wyatt had the hard task of trying a little bit of every cake available in order to pick the right one for the party. You, trusting your boys’ fine taste, you let them pick the cake: strawberry and cream. Everything seemed ready for the two of you to tie the knot. The dress was also easy to find, you weren't picky, you wanted something pretty and comfortable, that would make your baby bump discreet and allow you to enjoy your special day. Taking Wyatt with you so he would help you choose the best outfit, you simply loved how attentive and sweet he was, all the time he clapped his little hands and giggles
"You look pretty mommy!”
That's what you'd heard the most those days.
Your handsome cowboy on the other hand, had his suit completely figured out: after inviting some of the Kingsman agents, Eggsy sent your fiance a special fine tailored suit, the kind that fit your cowboy so perfectly and it hung tight to all the right places. He looked so good, too good it was almost impossible to be able to hold yourself back and honor the agreement you'd both made to wait until the wedding to sleep together again. It was quite silly to do that, but you remembered being younger and reading somewhere about how having a dry spell a few days before the wedding could fuel the honeymoon even more. You and Jack decided not to travel for your special getaway, he was still very worried about your health, no matter how many times your doctor assured both you and him things were alright with mama and the baby. There was also the fact you didn't have anyone to leave Wyatt with as well, he was a kind and sweet child to be around, but he wasn't used to being away from you for more than just a couple of days. Your mom was completely out of the picture and you and Jack didn't really feel comfortable in hiring someone to watch your boy on such short notice. A couple of weeks at your ranch, enjoying the upcoming end of the year festivities, your family and taking care of your pregnancy didn't sound that bad at all, you were looking forward to it and each time you saw Whiskey, your heart fluttered, thinking of all the happiness ahead of you.
Two days before your wedding, Wyatt woke up sneezing and sniffling, you had warned him not to spend too long around the river with his dad, you weren't certain what kind of vegetation was that, but it was enough to strike an allergic reaction in your little boy; and since Jack had been out to go fishing and Wyatt wouldn't leave his side for two seconds, it was understandable he didn't wake up feeling great, which made you give him some antiallergics in order for him to feel better. It'd worked to an extent, if it weren't for the fact the antiallergic your son got was the drowsy kind and it put him down to sleep through the whole afternoon, so without Wyatt's usual presence around you, always playing or asking millions of those thoughtful and creative questions, you took some time for yourself, relaxing and lying on the couch, waiting for Whiskey to be home. Your future husband was as excited for the wedding as you were, he couldn't wait to say ‘I do’ and finally be able to be your husband, and yet, you could still see there were some days in which Jack's mind wandered and he seemed so lost in thought. Or late at night, it wouldn't be rare to get up to grab a glass of water and find him looking out the window, silently and reflexively, just staring into the darkness outside the window. You hadn't asked what was going on, suspecting it had to do with something extremely intimate, and that didn't worry you one bit, your love was strong and your cowboy was devoted to you, perhaps it was something to do with those ugly thoughts he dealt with a while back; although he'd assured you he still went to the his therapist appointments regularly and things were much better in that sense then. Eventually, you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier, and you ended up dozing off, your body fully relaxed against the comfortable couch and the warmth of the sunshine coming through the big window.
The distant sound of the Bronco's engine wasn't enough to wake you up by itself, you were so tired, a combination of your pregnancy and all the rush you had been settling things, all you needed was just a couple of hours of extra sleep and you'd be all set. Your sweet cowboy knew that more than you did, so he just tiptoed his way into the kitchen in order not to disturb you. The cowboys sweet tooth was really making him lose focus, so he had to grab a slice of that delicious cake you'd made him; no matter how many times you'd told Jack he looked the same sexy cowboy as always, he was sure he was growing a soft belly, and that was certainly due to your great cooking and mostly baking skills. And yet, he couldn't care less about it. He would trade any abs and fit body in the world for the happiness of your shared domestic bliss. He was so absentmindedly eating his second slice of cake - it was just too good to stop in the first one, he didn't even notice you approaching him, only when you placed your delicate hand on his back he managed to turn around and give you a smile as best as possible, due to the amount of cake he was eating, so you just chuckled and shook your head
“Chew it slowly cowboy” you said sweetly and wiped some crumbles off his cheek and then went to his chest, doing the same with his shirt. His free immediately rested on your belly as he grinned.
"How's the little cowboy?”
"He's alright… I'd like to talk about the big cowboy, though” you told him and saw his puzzled face as you chuckled and wrapped your arms around his neck. Jack's body was so broad and strong, it simply made you always feel safe and quite turned on, although you couldn't get distracted by him. His arms wrapped around your body, heavy hands resting on the small of your back as he sighed, he hoped he wasn't in trouble, although he had quite a good guess what you wanted to talk about. He placed a peck on top of your head and looked into your eyes.
“What is it, sugar?”
"I want to know what's going on, cowboy… I know you're excited about our wedding, just as I am, but sometimes you just get so lost in thought, you wake up in the middle of night and underneath all that spark of happiness, I still see some melancholy underneath… I don't want to see you sad, Jack”
He closed his eyes when he felt your hand on his cheek, the slightest caress was already so comforting for that broken cowboy; he was a screw up but he had the best intentions, all he wanted was to make you happy without having to worry about losing the three of you. You, Wyatt and the baby being much more than he ever deserved, he just wished he didn't worry so much about everything all the time. Taking a seat on the chair and pulling you to his lap, he rested his face on your cleavage, sighing as he wondered if he should actually open up and tell you what was constantly on his mind. What if you somehow misinterpreted what he meant?! What if you got angry with him and his over protection? So many things ran through his mind as he remained in silence for a few seconds, until once more that healing caress of yours snapped him out of his newest wave of melancholy, this time tangled into his messy hair, you could see the tension dissolving from his shoulders and how he was ready to talk.
"I'm so happy with everything that's going on… our wedding, our baby, our cowboy Wyatt growing up stronger than a horse, I spent so long thinking I could never be happy in my life only to be the happiest man in the world. I'm so thankful to you for all of that, sugar. You made me a better man, you made me want to be better for you and our family and now we're welcoming a new baby into our lives, I can't help my excitement to do this with you, sugar, it's my dream coming true”
The cowboy said honestly, this time he was the one who held your face between his hands, caressing it gently and being so delicate towards you like he'd always been. Still, you knew him, being sure there was a little bit more to it than just the pure excitement.
"And…?”
Whiskey licked his lips and gave you a sad smile, seeing nothing would go past you unnoticed, not when it came to him at least. He felt pretty happy and safe because of that, his heart warm at how sweet you were.
“And my mind keeps taking me back to when I was young… All this wedding preparation going on reminds me of the first time I got married… how young and naive I was, how happy Gabriella got, and how hopeful we were when lil Jack was growing in her belly” he swallowed hard and lowered his eyes “please sugar, don't think I'm comparing you two or that I still love Gabriella in that way, but it makes me sad to think my boy could've become a man, a big strong cowboy, and his mama should be a hell of a successful woman by now. I know I discussed this hundreds if not thousands of times over the years, but their fate was just so unfair, and along with that, the fear of losing you and our beautiful little family the way I lost them starts creeping up in my chest and I just get so paranoid over everything an-”
You interrupted your cowboy with a kiss; touching his lips with yours, feeling the warmth of him irradiating onto you, the way his arms wrapped around you and he deepened the kiss, loving to have a taste of you, especially when his mouth couldn't make the right words, he knew his heart could, and above all, your heart could listen to it. And you understood it, you really did, it wasn't because Jack still thought of his late wife, not in that way, but he just couldn't help wondering what would've happened if things didn't go the tragic way they did. Your cowboy was a romantic and sensitive man, no matter what he tried saying or doing. You broke the kiss with a gentle smile and took his hand “come on, cowboy, let's go for a ride” you told him as you dragged him out of the kitchen, stopping midway just to let Helen know you and Jack would be gone for a while and she should keep an eye on Wyatt just in case.
The walk to the stables was quick, as your cowboy didn't hesitate in going after you, still slightly puzzled as to why you decided to go out like that, but the moment he saw your smile, he went soft: he would do anything for you. You finally let go of his hand and went to Silver Pony, greeting her and petting her head, warming up his heart. Jack loved how sweet and kind to the animals he kept at the ranch you were, knowing you loved that beautiful horse, just as much as Wyatt loved his beautiful little pony, he frowned softly as he saw you getting the saddle and putting it on your horse.
"I thought we'd agree you wouldn't ride horses for now, you know, to prevent stuff in case you fall or-” you interrupted your cowboy with another peck on the lips, knowing he wouldn't resist further than that. Smiling you shook your head slightly
"You know, it's funny you don't want me to ride a horse but you do want me to ride a cowboy every single night” you winked as you saw a slight red shade crossing his cheeks before he cleared his throat “come on, Jack, I'll be safe, I'll be with you, you're the best cowboy in the world, the best I've ever seen, we'll just take a short ride and that's it…”
And with your puppy eyes, you managed to convince him. Like you always did.
And you were right after all, the ride was short and calm, nothing different went on, as you two exited the ranch entrance and took the small side road towards the fruit trees, the cowboy just assumed you were going to pick up some to make a dessert or something similar, but the moment you crossed the fruit path and walked a bit further, stopping by the cemetery, was when he finally realized what you'd had in mind. He did not see that coming, a part of him still tried to deflect him from considering that, but when he saw you getting off Silver Pony and picking up some flowers, it was the confirmation he needed.
“S-sugar, why? Why are we here?”
He asked as you took his arm and made your way inside of that holy place.
"I think it's important, maybe this will ease your mind, Jack… I know how hard this subject still is for you, and I also know you haven't visited her in a while. I think it's important for you, and well, for me too, that way we can soothe these feelings that still haunt you, cowboy. Let's go, I do it with my heart open”
And with your encouraging words, your cowboy Jack Daniels took your hand and walked towards his late wife's grave, knowing it was always a bittersweet feeling, but above all, necessary. He hadn't been there in a while, it was almost as if he'd lost the habit of doing so, not feeling that need of visiting them, not after he started attending therapy and realized he had to let his first family go, not after he realized he needed to fight for the family he had with you and that was the most important thing. Still, around special dates such as their anniversary or worse, the anniversary of their passing, he felt he had to honor them by showing up and leaving a couple of flowers. Jack was also aware that you visited their grave once and it warmed his heart. You took some of your time to acknowledge their existence in a substantial way and not treat them as if they were just his weird obsession. Once he realized you both stood in front of the tombstone, he took a deep breath. No matter if years and decades went by, the sight of their names written there always pierced his heart. He knew his relationship with Gabriella could've taken so many turns if she hadn't died: they could've been together until this day or they could've split up, they could still have feelings for each other or hate each other's guts, so many possibilities, none of them would ever come true, but what shattered his heart for real, was to think of his little boy, think of his little Jack, still so small and fragile inside his mommy's tummy, unlike Gabriella, Jack never got to hold him, never got to look into his eyes or caress his hair. Technically, it should've been easier for him to get over the loss of someone he had never met, but it wasn't, if anything, it was even worse, because he could never stop himself from wondering what would've happened. Would his son be good at school or get bad grades? Would be a mama's boy like Whiskey himself was as a kid or would he be rebellious? If he'd followed his dad's step and found his sweetheart earlier in life, there was a fat chance Whiskey would be a grandpa by then.
But those ifs and might-have-beens were just spiculation. There was no way to know it, and not to descend into madness once more living off daydreams and made up scenarios, was that he seeked help. He was better now, better than he'd ever been, but at emotional times like those, it was quite difficult not to be caught in the moment, so he felt startled when you placed your hand on his shoulder.
"Do you want me to go and give you some time?” You suggested as you placed the flowers on Gabriella's and the baby's graves, you had a gut feeling that moment was important for your cowboy, but now that you were actually there, you felt slightly dislocated, not knowing exactly what to do or what to say, it felt so intimate to be there, to see Jack's eyes fill up with tears, but instead of asking you for a moment, he tightened his grip around your hand and kept you in place. The two of you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer to his first family. You thanked Gabriella for taking care of your Jack and promised her you would make him happy, not letting him fall into his old depressive habits again; you also wished her and her baby's soul peace and happiness in heaven. Jack, on the other hand, prayed for them and for his new family, he told them he would always keep them both in his heart but it was time to let them rest, they'd never be forgotten or unloved, but the cowboy had another family to love and protect, he asked them for their blessing and he burst out crying when he spotted a blue butterfly on Gabriella's grave. She used to love butterflies and blue was her favorite color. It could've been a sign or not, he wasn't really sure, but the fact was that a weight seemed to be lifted off his chest at the same time he pulled you for a hug and thanked you for going there with him.
Truth was: if roles were reversed and Jack had died that night instead of Gabriella, he would've wanted her to move on and find peace and love with someone who could truly make her happy, so he finally realized and convinced himself there was no reason for him to do that, his late wife would've wanted the same.
•••
As Ginger got off the phone and paced the room, you felt your throat tightening with anxiety and worry; your chest was so heavy and the tears threatened to splurge from your eyes at any moment, there was still no sign of your cowboy and the way Ginger seemed tense as she whispered information with whoever was at the agency, only brought you even more fear of having lost your husband. You eyed the kids, who behaved perfectly and it pained you not being able to appreciate that, you wish you could sit down with them, talk and play, smile and hold them, but at that moment you were so unavailable, all you needed was to have some news from your cowboy, that was all you wished for; you wish you could hold him tight, you wish you could feel his presence, his warm, his scent all over you again. You craved your cowboy, your husband, and you couldn't even begin to consider the possibility of not having him anymore, at the same time those depressive thoughts were the only ones that crossed your mind. Wyatt complained about being hungry and as much as you should have gotten up and started making him dinner, you simply couldn't move yourself from your seat. Everything hurt and the way Ginger hung up and simply shook her head, signaling there were still no words about your cowboy, just shattered your heart. You discreetly dried a single tear and nodded at her, as you buried your hand into your son's curly hair - exactly like his dad's when he went a few extra weeks without a pretty decent trim. Even at your gentle caress, Wyatt still whined about being hungry, but seeing you were under no conditions of making them dinner, Ginger offered herself to make him some mac&cheese while Helen immediately stepped up to prepare Rosie's bottle. You thanked them and enjoyed a moment of silence as you were left in the living room by yourself. You shook your head thinking of things you couldn't actually change, but if you had that power you would've insisted him to stay, not to take that last mission, the future for the two of you along with the kids was just so bright, you had so many possibilities, he didn't need the money, he should've just stayed home with you. It should be a quiet evening, having a family dinner together, feeding and bathing the kids and then snuggling in bed, feeling those quick strong hands of his, roaming all over your body while those devilish lips whispered the most sinful things in your ear.
If only.
You sighed and got up, walking around the living room, stretching your legs and trying to control that huge sadness that seemed to have taken over you like a dark thick shadow that wouldn't go away. As you went to the window and watched it how the overcast sky had turned into a dark night, cold night, you saw the trees moving softly with the wind, which blew coldly through the leaves, you thought of how thoughtful Jack had become those early days before the wedding, how he would just stare outside and allow his mind to drift away, you knew now he had thought of his late wife and how things could've been different for her, you didn't want to think of that, because your troubled mind would wonder if you had really lost your husband already, if your worst nightmare had become true, if he would be reunited with Gabriella at that moment. So many ifs, as much as you fought that thought it didn't seem so distant which made you gasp and finally broke into tears. It was torture. Your heart was broken.
When you looked out the window once more, your eyes were still blurred with tears, as you tried controlling yourself, knowing it wasn't the time for your kids to see your outburst, so at first, you didn't actually see that curious figure moving in the darkness, it wouldn't even make sense to you, no one could be possibly wandering around, the glimpse of a mysterious figured might've been confused with a hallucination, but not the sound of a horse's hooves approaching the house. That was very real, you realized, the moment you raised your head and frowned trying to see exactly who it was. It wasn't possible, was it? The thing you'd been praying for the most for the past couple of days, had you fallen asleep? Were you dreaming? You wouldn't be able to tell, not with that anxiety bombing you completely making you feel as if your heart was about to beat right out of your chest. Not holding back anymore, you simply ran to the front door, opening it and rushing towards the knight in shining armor coming back home to you.
"Jack!!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, your face filled with pure emotion as your depressing, pained tears were quickly replaced by happy ones, the relief you felt was enough to spread through your body and make it weak, having the sensation you could reach the ground at any moment, but there was no problem, your cowboy was finally back home.
Noticing you, your despair and your eagerness to see him, Jack immediately got off the couch and finished the path towards you by running. Welcoming you into his eyes, you jumped on him, crying and gripping his body against yours as if your life depended on it. You cried as you felt his hands running up and down your back, the way he whispered sweet little soothing words, reminding you he was finally safely home. You couldn't believe it, one moment you felt terrified you'd have to move onto a sad, depressing life without your cowboy, and then next, he was right there, for you. You also knew he was tired, hungrily, bruised and in need of a shower and certainly a lot of Ginger’s painkillers, but you allowed yourself to be a little bit more selfish and keep him to yourself, holding your husband and taking every bit of him.
"It's okay sugar, I'm home… it was the last one, I promise you, from now on, I'm retired Agents Whiskey, no more leaving my family behind to risk my life for others” he promised you with his whole heart, not being able to take your sadness at the realization of how much you'd suffered with him gone. He couldn't do that to you nor your family, he had priorities in life, and they would always be you, Wyatt and Rosie.
The way Jack kept you in his embrace, face buried into your neck, your sweet scent reminding him of home and showing him that just like you, he wasn't dreaming, he was indeed back home from a mission he didn't die for a true miracle, his heart calmed down. You could've stayed in that embrace forever, it was all your heart begged and ached for, nothing more or nothing less, and the only thing that was able to break that hug was when Wyatt's voice shouted a happy “daddy!!!” at the top of his little lungs, followed by Rosie's cooes and loud baby noises, the cowboy's eyes filled with tears at that scene. It wasn't just his sugar, it was also his kids claiming for him, his family who waited hopefully and patiently for him to come home to. He opened his arms to them, Wyatt running as fast as his favorite horse and Rosie being brought in by Helen, but it didn't take very long until she was in her daddy's arms, cooing and gripping his cheeks like she always did while he kissed her sweet face. There was no reason to cry or be sad about stuff, the Daniels were reunited again.
•••
The next couple of hours went by in a blur, you felt anesthetized at everything that went on, and while Jack had to sit down with Ginger - and Champ who arrived about an hour later and got them all locked into your cowboy's office, Helen insisted you to take a bath, followed by a calming herb tea, while she kept an eye on the kids for you.
You never really knew what went on during the mission, it was top secret after all, the only thing you were informed about was that the mission was dangerous, but a success, and Jack Daniels, now retired and former Agent Whiskey had been a hero. As a thank you for all the years of service, Champ gifted your husband with a significant part of the Statesman's shares, which would assure you and your family a comfortable future to put it mildly. Not only that, but he also offered your cowboy his CEO job, not the whole chain, but from the local factory, which meant he didn't have to drive more than just a few miles until the distillery, sit down at his desk, get his demands done and come back at the end of the day to see his beautiful family. It certainly brought you a big relief, your cowboy would be safe and sound and your kids would grow up with their dad around.
Once everyone finally went home, Jack had clarified all the professional details, he was able to shower, eat and have you take care of his wounds, stitching him up and patching him up, he was finally good to go. Of course, he had a 5 o'clock growing due to the days he was unable to shave, but he would have enough time for that. The important thing was that the four of you lay on the couch of your living room, relaxing and letting the calmness sink in. Your cowboy sighed relieved as he rubbed your arm up and down, at the same time the kids yawned but fought so hard their sleep. Wyatt was rubbing his little eyes, and yet, he didn't want to go to sleep at all, his tiny little hands caressed Rosie's thin and soft hair, the one that smelled like strawberry baby shampoo and he loved it. He giggled at her, who returned her big brother's affection by giving him a sweet gummy smile.
"Mommy, daddy, can I continue telling Rosie about the wedding?” Wyatt asked between yawns as Jack chuckled and nodded, his fingers toying with his son's soft curls, the feeling of his feeling surrounding him was better than anything he'd ever experienced before.
"Go ahead little cowboy, just don't forget telling your pretty little sister how beautiful mama was”
At his daddy's incentives, Wyatt let out one last long yawn and looked at his sister.
“So, Rosie… about mommy's and daddy's wedding. Mommy was so pretty!”
•••
The unusual warmth for December allowed you to have the wedding of your dreams: right by the willow trees, just as you had fantasized about since you were just Whiskey's girlfriend a few years back. Time flew by just as a lot of things between the two of you, things that had finally been settled and worked on, and your happy ending was near. You stared at yourself in the mirror, in awe at the fact the wedding dress suited you way better than you thought it would. It was a relief, as your pregnancy progressed, one of your bride's fears was not fitting into your special dress on your even more special day. Luckily, that wasn't the case. Everyone who helped you get ready, had been nothing but kind and honest, when they all told you you looked beautiful, but none of these compliments were nearly as heart warming as your son's, whose little eyes got brighter the moment he spotted you. He had insisted on getting dressed along with his dad, since he was convinced cowboys should help each other, but once he was ready in his adorable cowboy attire, he insisted on helping his mama this time, after all, you two had been best friends for a long time, so it was fair he would be by your side. Not only that, since he'd been officially invited to walk you down the aisle, Wyatt had noticed how important his task was, and he didn't want to do his mommy dirty, he wanted things to be perfect, so once he rushed to you, you simply got on your knees to hug your little man. In a way, if it weren't for him, none of that would be happening.
"You're beautiful, mommy!”
There was something Wyatt wasn't tired of saying, perhaps it was all the kindness you had in your heart you used to raise him well, or maybe he was just taking after his dad in being a charming cowboy, it was still too early to figure it out, but what really mattered for you, was how proud you were of the little human being he was becoming. Those were motivational things that assured you things were on the right track, when it came to raising and loving your family. As you twirled and your son clapped in excitement, he giggled and wrapped his little arms around your legs once more, not containing his urge of hugging his mommy once more. It never crossed his witty mind that it could wrinkle your beautiful dress in any way, but if you were being honest, neither did it go through your own mind. You'd never refuse any of your beloved ones’ caresses out of fear of wrinkling a piece of clothes. Things were perfect the way they were, you couldn't want anything more for the three - well, now four, of you.
"Mommy! Daddy’s so nervous! He can't wait” Wyatt whispered between his giggles, not sure if that was gossiping or not, but he didn't see any harm in telling his mommy about important things like that, and those were important to him. You chuckled and held him again, placing a peck on top of his head and nodding.
“Well, I'm nervous too… it's a dream daddy and I have, you know? It's coming true… it's like having so many butterflies in your tummy, kinda like when it's your birthday and you can't wait, that's all you can think of and you feel as if your tummy is funny but in a good way?!” You explained to him the best way you could, a way you knew your son was going to understand and you couldn't be happier about the face Wyatt was so damn smart. Good thing both your and the Daniels genes were a good mixture, because he took you by the hand with his smaller one and nodded.
“It's time mommy!”
The walk from the house to the willow trees didn't seem to be that long before your wedding day, you could've sworn things were a lot easier than they seemed at that moment, but each time you looked at your son's pure determination in taking you to his daddy, your heart calmed down. You figured your husband was as nervous as you were, but not only that, he was probably as happy as you were too, and in addition to it, he must've been so handsome. You just didn't expect him to be that handsome. So handsome that the moment you reached the willow tree path, everything seemed blurry and not so important. The decorations you knew were beautiful, the fairy lights on the trees, the roses all scattered around, the guests, all of your friends, fellow agents and important people who took part in your lives, all of that simply came second the moment you spotted your cowboy. Jack was so handsome, the gorgeous, flawless suit he'd been gifted by Eggsy and the Kingsman simply fit him like a velvet glove, perhaps it was that, or the way he took off his cowboy hat in respect at your entrance, knowing you should be the spotlight, after all, you were the bride, just not any bride, you were his bride and that was enough to make that old mushy heart beat nearly out of his chest. It was like nothing existed at that moment except you and him, and once the song played and your son took you by the hand, accomplishing the very expected task given to him, you could barely believe that was real, but it was, and you were marrying your cowboy.
As you stood in front of your fiance, you swore you never felt such a stronger wave of love for him. You both had gone over so many things, but in the end, love overcame it all and there was no other way things would be like, you and him would finally be together, married, before the men and before God, forever and ever.
"You look gorgeous, sugar” he whispered and took your hand, kissing it gently, before he turned to the priest and you did the same. The ceremony was short and full of beautiful words, exactly like you and Jack wanted. No boring services where you both and the guests would fall asleep halfway towards it. Your cowboy always defended the idea of small ceremonies and large parties, and you couldn't agree more. When you were both pronounced husband and wife, he kissed you, and you returned the kiss, the way he held you in his arms showing you it was real and meant to be, oh that cowboy meant business. But he didn't just stop there, once he broke the kiss, he got on his knees in front of you, like the gentleman he was and pecked your stomach very gently. An obvious and yet extremely delicate way of breaking the news to the world there was a new member of the Daniels family on their way.
•••
As you carried an asleep Rosie into your eyes while Jack did the same with Wyatt - your husband was a gentleman, he carried the heavier one so your back wouldn't hurt - he couldn't help but chuckle.
"He fell asleep before telling her about our wedding party, that was a good one”
"And he couldn't even get to her birth either, but don't worry Jack, I'm sure we'll all be gifted with his version of the facts, all they gotta do is recharge their batteries for a little while and they'll be good to go, way better than us, by the way, because I'm exhausted”
"Me too, sugar”
Your cowboy planted a sweet peck on your lips, watching as you placed Rosie carefully in her crib and covered her up, tucking your gorgeous daughter in and allowing her to fly into her sweet dreams. Then, it was your son's turn, you followed Jack into Wyatt's little cowboy room and watched him do the same, tucking your son gently and wishing him sweet dreams with the loveliest whisper and closing the door behind him. And then it was just the two of you, finally the two of you.
As Jack took you to your shared bedroom, you could already see a hint of sadness in his eyes. He was sure you were about to enquire about what happened on that mission, but the only thing you did was approach your cowboy carefully and slowly and kiss him. Feeling his heavy hands resting on your hips as they brought you closer to him at the same time you wrapped your arms around his broad width. Things didn't have to rush, not now, not at the moment where you were so deep into his caresses. As he broke the kiss, you stroked his cheek.
"I know, Jack. I know you aren't supposed to talk about what happened on that mission, I'm aware it's top secret, but I also know you nearly died, so I just want to tell you I'm thrilled to know you aren't doing it again, I'm so happy you've finally retired, that way I don't have to worry about not having you coming back home to me, and well, us, your kids, your family. I just love you with all my heart, and I don't think I'd bear becoming a widow…”
Your lips were immediately connected with his, as he felt the urge of kissing you once more, the way your words stung - because he knew you were correct, he knew missions were getting more and more dangerous, either that or perhaps Jack was becoming too old for that. But he also knew he had no right to screw things up, not when you two had built a gorgeous family, he didn't have the right to take that away from you by letting you become a widow, and god forbid Jack die before enjoying his marriage and kids. It wouldn't be fair, not after everything you two fought so hard for - still, your words melted his heart all at once, he loved you endlessly, more than anything in the world, and he wished he knew how to word that out for you, so a gentle kiss was the best he could come up at that moment.
“You won't lose me, sugar. I promise you that much, you got all of me, I am retired and I'll be around so much you gonna get tired of my face all the time”
“I doubt that, cowboy… I love you”
"I love you too, my beautiful sugar. You're the woman of my dreams, my beautiful wife” Jack kissed your hands as he wrapped his arms around you, placing you down the bed and straddling you. He was having his way with you that night, something the two of you anticipated so much. There was nothing you wanted more than to sink into your cowboy's arms. Forever.
•••
What Wyatt failed to tell his little sister before the two of them fell asleep exhaustedly wasn't the biggest part of the story, but you were sure he would've told her how good the yummy food was - and that he was the one who helped you pick it all up, and in case you and their daddy decided to get married again, for the party purpose of course, and nothing remotely similar to a breakup, Wyatt was sure you'd call Rosie for her help too. He would also tell her about how pretty it was to see the two of you waltzing, exactly like a princess and a prince, and how you and his daddy danced with Wyatt on the dance floor until he was too tired to remember what happened next. For the following months, there was nothing more than just pure bright happiness in that ranch. Wyatt started school, he was still in kindergarten, and as much as you and Jack were proud of your little boy, you could've sworn you saw a single tear run down your tough cowboy's cheek. He was thinking of how many important things he'd missed from his son's life, but that wasn't going to happen again. He was a present dad, the kind of person to attend any type of teacher-parent conference and be there all the time for his kids. He loved them with all his heart, and with the months progressing along with your pregnancy, Jack had stayed by your side at any given opportunity. He loved you, and he loved his baby girl, and every single night he dreamed of her; he dreamed of her sweet face, a face that resembled yours, as well as Wyatt's, and even resembled his own. He wondered what her hair and eye color would be like, and as he saw your pregnant belly swollen with his baby, the love seed he planted there, it also made his own heart swollen with pride.
When you woke up cramping and soon enough your water broke, he felt he had won the damn Superbowl, driving you to the hospital in his Bronco at the speed of light and later on having Helen pick up Wyatt from school and take him to the hospital. By the time your lovely little cowboy was officially a big brother to your newest bundle of joy: Rose Marie Daniels.
Although Wyatt insisted on calling her Rosie because he thought it was cuter and the nickname sort of caught on. If you usually went by ‘sugar’, your husband and son went by ‘cowboy’, why couldn't your beautiful daughter go by ‘Rosie’ after all?
And so went on your life as a married woman to the man of your dreams and your two beautiful children. There was nothing you could ask for, you had it all, and you loved every single part of it.
•••
A whole year had passed: your cowboy had finally gotten used to his retirement, out go super secret dangerous missions, and in come mornings spent at the distillery, supervising the production of the finest Statesman's liquor, afternoons spent taking care of the ranch and carrying Rosie all over, as the two of them waited eagerly for Wyatt to come home from school. You had talked to your husband about daycare, he knew it was quite a good idea, his baby daughter was smart and fast as a thunder, but the mere idea of sending her off to spend the whole day away from him was enough to tear his heart apart: he couldn't go without watching silly little cartoons, or making cute piggy tails on her soft hair and allow her to take a daily nap on top of his chest and belly. She was almost turning two, and as much as it mesmerized him to see her blossoming and growing up so fast, it still saddened him to see how fast time flew by. He was getting a third kid fever, but he wasn't sure if it was happening; maybe it was, he still needed to talk to you about it, but those were later plans, he still had so much to do with his life, with his family, he wanted to enjoy Wyatt, who was now nearly turning 8. His beautiful Rosie was practically a toddler now, and there was nothing more he enjoyed in the world than picking up Wyatt from school and letting the kids run loose with you in the green fields while he grilled his famous burgers. Those were special days, because they had nothing elaborated in them, just a family moment among the Daniels, something the brokenhearted cowboy thought he would never get, but turns out he did. He deserved it all. After trying so hard to convince himself he didn't, after trying to convince himself he was just a heartless man, he was shown he wasn't a horrible human being as the two of you had thought several times. You two had come along a long way, but in the end, things had worked out, because your love was big and strong, and nothing in the world could come between you.
As you watched Wyatt and Rosie playing with Silver Star, you walked to Jack, wrapping your arms around his body and kissing him deeply. His face was smooth as always and his mustache always trimmed, just as you loved kissing and riding quite often. You smirked at him and snuggled him.
“So, have you made up your mind, honey?”
"About what, sugar?”
“You know, running for mayor in this upcoming election..”
You and Jack had discussed it, more likely drunkenly discussing the possibility, you didn't know if he had actually meant that, but you knew your husband well enough to see that fire in his eyes and the genuine will to help the ones in need and give it back to the city that took him in. He returned the smile and kissed your neck, warning a groan from you.
"I still don't know, I think of it sometimes, it would be nice, I know I'd have support from you, the kids and quite a lot of people in town, but I worry it would make our lives too exposed you know, and I don't want that, I love our life the way it is, how happy and calm those kids are, I don't know about mixing up things…”
“Well, I want you to remember I love you and I'll support you no matter what. I gotta admit it makes me feel a little nervous to have this possibility of getting into politics and having our lives changing completely, although I'm sure I'd love to call you Mr.Mayor”
And at that naughty line, you earned a smack on your butt, making you squirm softly and see your cowboy really enjoyed the nickname, even if he didn't try running for mayor. Still, there was something else you knew he wanted, it could be a future plan too, but it wouldn't hurt to talk about it.
"You know, I was thinking that maybe in the near future, we could have a third baby… what about adopting this time?”
And your cowboy's heart nearly exploded with happiness and excitement. There was nothing he wanted more than seeing his family grow. No matter if it was by blood or simply by love, for a man who bought a ranch to fill it in with broken promises and lost dreams, nothing made him happier than to see his family running all over that place with so much joy and excitement. The happy giggles and squeals, and to think that could even grow, it was just an endless bliss, the kind of bliss Jack Daniels, former Agent Whiskey had to pinch himself and make sure he wasn't asleep, but instead, it was his lovely, beautiful reality.
"Daddy!!! We're hungry!”
Wyatt chimed in as he ran to him, followed by Rosie, who clung to her dad as if her little life depended on it.
"Yes, daddy, we’we hungwy!” She imitated her big brother, still not able to pronounce the R’s properly and making her daddy's heart melt into a puddle of love and affection. He got on his knees, wrapping his arms around his children. He loved them with all his heart. Just as much as he loved you, deeply, more than anything he had ever loved anyone.
Jack Daniels, former Agent Whiskey, a man whose heart was once broken, was now a man full of love. He was devoted to his wife and his beautiful kids, nothing in the world mattered more than them and for someone who had been known as a heartless man, he was nothing but love and comfort for you, Wyatt and Rosie.
The four of you were perfect for each other and maybe in the near future, there would be another addition to the Daniels, but until then, that cowboy was going to devote himself completely to you.
He wasn't ever called a heartless man again, not with that amount of love he felt overflowing through himself. He loved and he received love, just like he was supposed to, just like he deserved it.
____
A/N: thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you all for the kindness and the support you all showed me with this story. It's been nearly a year of what should've been just a one shot and turned into a 20 chapter piece of work! I'm so happy and proud of myself for being able to write this beautiful story, nothing cheers up my heart more than knowing you all showed me so much love! Please besties, it's been a long ride, so if you can, leave me a feedback for our cowboy's last ride, I hope you've enjoyed it, as much as I did! Love you all and once more, thank you for the support ❤️💫
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Cognitive Dissonance
Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"
Summary: It's only a bachelorette party. You only have to pretend you're happy, that your life isn't a fake smile and a rocky engagement. It's only Westworld, after all, where you can be whoever you want for a few short hours. And the charming cowboy Jack Daniels is only a host. Isn't he?
Series Word Count: 23.7k
Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), some light D/s themes, Jack needs his own warning because his mouth is a weapon, slight dubcon if you squint and think hard about it, major infidelity themes, some liberties taken with how Westworld works.
Original commissioned artwork by @miranhas-art. If you are interested in working with the amazingly talented Mari, please head to her Tumblr page or check out if her commissions are open. While this art depicts the reader in a finite way, the character is written without descriptions of physical attributes. You are the reader, the reader is you, and this is one possible version of that for me.
Notes: Welcome to my Westworld Whiskey story! After ages of teasing this concept, I am finally releasing it. This takes place in Season 1, around Episode 6: The Adversary. I'm taking some liberties with how Westworld works, but we should all have a good time because of it.
There are major themes and acts of infidelity in this work, so if this isn’t your cup of tea scroll along friend!
Warnings are marked at the beginning of each chapter.
Chapter 1: Never Realized I’d Been Here Before
Chapter 2: But Then I Saw Her
Chapter 3: On My Darkest Day She Helped Me
Chapter 4: Perhaps This Life Was Not My True Life
Chapter 5: This World Was Not My True Home
Chapter 6: But She Was
Chapter 7: Take My Heart When You Go
Chapter 8: Take Mine In Its Place
Cross-posted on AO3
Chapter titles are taken from Akecheta's monologue in Season 2, Episode 8 "Kiksuya."
Cognitive dissonance theory postulates that an underlying psychological tension is created when an individual’s behavior is inconsistent with his or her thoughts and beliefs. This underlying tension then motivates an individual to make an attitude change that would produce consistency between thoughts and behaviors.
The story continues in Decoherence
Join my Taglist!
#jack daniels fanfic#jack whiskey daniels x reader#jack daniels x reader#jack whiskey daniels x f!reader#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x female reader#agent whiskey x you#jack daniels x you#westworld fanfiction#kingsmen golden circle fanfiction#whiskey & westworld series#prolix fics
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I ║ Palomino
Jack Daniels x f!reader
{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 2: Buckskin }
Rating: M (will be E in future chapters)
Summary: Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you'd booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need.
Warnings: Extremely self-indulgent solo travel romance, flirting, yearning, language, matchmaking themes, lots of horsey details, mention of breakup, no use of Y/N
Word count: 6.5k
Notes: This story encompasses a lot of firsts for me - first new series since Consent, first time writing Jack, first time writing something so action-heavy and close to my heart. While I'm not 100% confident I got everything right, I am so excited about this fic. I hope you're ready for the ride (I apologise in advance for all the horsey puns incoming)!
I want to call out (affectionate) LJ @prolix-yuy for lighting a fire under my ass for cowboy Jack with her incredible Westworld AU Cognitive Dissonance. I also need to thank Ani @deadhumourist for the idea of a company retreat that I used in this chapter, and for sharing with us her amazing Jack fic Under Marula Trees. And of course, Ash @mandoblowmybackout for enduring my almost non-stop screeching about Jack ❤️
More notes in the Series Masterlist on horses and travel, etc!
Palomino: a pale golden or tan-coloured horse or pony with a white mane and tail, originally bred in the south-western US.
The door creaks long and loud on its hinges as it opens, barely letting through a bustling figure before slamming shut so hard it rattles on its heavy oak frame.
At the long-suffering frown sent his way from across the reception desk, Champ holds his hands up in apology and tip-toes in exaggerated fashion to his desk. Ginger shakes her head fondly - being quiet is not one of her employer’s strong suits.
She presently returns to the phone call she’s in the middle of, using her most placating tone on this customer. ‘Look, we have regulars coming in the same week as you. They come every year for a company retreat, and they are just the loveliest people you can meet. I promise you’ll have a great time.’
The vintage Chesterfield groans under his weight as Champ settles down, and with a practised flick of his wrist, his cowboy hat lands on its designated hook on the wall. He turns to the ledgers Harry left on his desk two days ago - he can’t keep putting them off much longer…
His mind quickly wanders. He’s a people person, and he’s always been more interested in the dude ranch holiday part of the business. However, Ginger is so good at her job that she’s made him redundant, banishing him to the whiskey distillery side of things.
It doesn’t stop him from keeping half an ear on the ongoing phone conversation though.
‘I’m so sorry, ma’am, it’s not our policy to offer refunds. But I promise you’ll have the best birthday with us on the trip.’
Champ steeples his fingers and leans back in his chair. Ah, a customer wanting to cancel. Always tricky.
‘Tell you what - since you’ve already paid a 40% deposit for two guests, why don’t I waive the 20% balance for your holiday for one party?’
Champ arches a grey eyebrow in curiosity.
‘Alright, perfect,’ chirps Ginger brightly. ‘We look forward to seeing you in a few weeks. Bye now.’
‘What was that about?’ he asks as soon as she hangs up.
Bringing up the reservations system on her computer, she types busily as she replies, ‘A guest booked a holiday with her boyfriend, but they broke up, and she wanted a refund for both their places. I convinced her to come alone instead with the discount. She’s here the same week as the Kingsman so she definitely won’t be lonely.’
Champ gives her a double thumbs up. ‘Nicely done, Ginger. And did you say it’s her birthday while she’s here?’
‘Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll give Poppy a heads up to bake a cake in advance.’
‘Do you have a photo of her?’
Ginger’s fingers pause and hover over the keyboard, a warning in her voice. ‘Champ.’
He blinks innocently. ‘What? I’m a nosy bastard.’
With a sigh, she pulls up a Whatsapp profile picture and holds up the phone to him.
He puts on his reading glasses to look at the screen, and proceeds to nod thoughtfully. Finally, they haven’t had any single guests at the ranch for months on end. Surely, she’s his type…
‘Champ?’ Ginger’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. ‘Stop meddling!’
He feigns ignorance. ‘Whatever do you mean, ma’am?’
She rolls her eyes affectionately. ‘He’s a big boy, he doesn’t need your help.’
Champ barks in laughter. ‘Like hell he doesn’t. Call the Kingsman and reschedule them, Ginger. I have a plan.’
You’ve never travelled on your own before.
Now that you’re speeding down the empty country roads towards the Bighorn Mountains - windows down, dust flying, radio blaring - you honestly don’t know why you waited so long.
You’re glad that the woman at the Statesman stood firm when you called a month and a half ago, asking for a refund. The discount sweetens the deal too.
To be honest, the week-long dude ranch trip you booked months ago had completely slipped your mind in the aftermath of the breakup. There were more pressing matters, like - what were you going to do with the house you bought and remodelled together?
You’d just finished tiling the backsplash with the vintage Italian mosaic you found at a flea market when you were informed that he didn’t feel the same way about you anymore. In fact, he hadn’t for some time.
You were only reminded of the trip when you started clearing your stuff out of the attic, finally having found an apartment you could afford on your own that is also not a shithole. You found the riding gear that you’d stashed away, gathering dust since you two started dating.
You should be thankful that at least there’s no costly wedding venue deposit to forgo or a pet custody battle to muddle through. He’s always hated animals - you really should’ve known.
But you can’t bring yourself to not be bitter about everything. Not yet.
Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re going on this trip. That lazy bastard can start pulling his weight and sort out the house viewings for potential buyers for this week. He’s been dragging his feet - just because he can afford to pay both the mortgage and rent at his new bachelor pad doesn’t mean you can too.
You shake yourself out of it and crank up the stereo. Fuck it. You’re not thinking about him or the house or anything this weekend. It’s your solo birthday getaway and you’re gonna enjoy the fuck out of it.
And who knows? If you’re lucky, you could be rebounding with a handsome cowboy, like one of those awful Unicorn Club novels you used to read over and over again when you were fifteen.
You laugh, the pull of the muscles in your cheeks unfamiliar after weeks of disuse. A girl can dream.
You switch off the ignition, hands gripping the driving wheel tightly, and you take a moment to compose yourself.
‘You can do this,’ you murmur, giving yourself a reaffirming nod in the rear view mirror.
Hopping off your rental truck, you shut the door behind you and start towards the only building you can see, a rustic lodge with a red roof. Statesman is blazened in iron letters, nailed proudly above a wraparound porch with welcoming rocking chairs and armchairs scattered about.
The gravel beneath your sneakers crunches loudly. You can hear in the distance sounds that you haven’t heard for a long time - clip clop of hooves, the drag of a barn door on rusty hinges, the low whinny of horses. You breathe in the mountain air scented with a whiff of sweet hay. Things that were familiar once upon a time. Your chest constricts at something blooming between your ribs, and a small smile lifts the corner of your lips.
There’s a bark out of the blue, and a border collie comes zipping towards you, wagging his tail so hard that his whole bottom wriggles from side to side. You coo excitedly and crouch down to give him a cuddle when a man with grey hair emerges from the lodge. It’s a warm day, but he’s wearing a suit with a cowboy hat.
In a booming voice, he calls your name in greeting and makes his way over to you. ‘We’ve been expecting you, young lady! The name’s Champ. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.’
You stand and shake his proffered hand with a smile. ‘Nice to meet you, Champ. It’s good to be here.’ You gesture to the empty parking lot. ‘Am I early or something?’
‘You’re our only guest this week, actually,’ he replies in a thick Southern accent.
You scratch the back of your neck, taken by surprise. ‘Umm, but the lady I spoke to on the phone - she said that there are regulars joining? A company retreat or something?’
‘Sadly, they rescheduled. It’s just you, my dear. You’re our VIP!’ he grins and claps you on the shoulder. ‘Come! Walk with me. I’ll have someone take your bags to your room. You can leave the keys in the car, it’s safe - but you keep any food to yourself or Jameson here will run away with it!’
The border collie barks at his name and Champ scratches him behind the ear, dispatching him with a wave of his hands.
Your host starts at a brisk walk. ‘So, how was your journey, young lady?’
You have to power walk to keep up with him as the gravel fades into firm sand. ‘Long, but glad to be here. I’ve been really looking forward to getting away.’
‘First time travelling alone, I assume?’ Champ smiles at you kindly.
You nod sheepishly. ‘I’m a bit nervous, to be honest.’
He laughs. ‘You’re entitled to nerves, but I promise you, you’ll forget all about that in three, two, one -’
Right on cue, you round the back of the lodge and you can’t help the gasp that slips out as you stumble to a stop.
The full landscape of the ranch comes into view beneath your feet. A picturesque river cuts through the green sweep of land, small lodges with matching red roofs are dotted all over one side of the bank, and bigger barn-like structures stand on the other. The Bighorn Mountains tower over the entirety of the property. You see horses grazing in a huge, fenced field, tails flicking lazily at flies.
Champ practically glows at your reaction. ‘It’s taken thirty years to get to where we are. I hope it will stand for many more decades to come.’
‘It’s - stunning,’ you say rather inadequately.
Champ winks at you. ‘Wait till you go into the mountains, my dear. Come along, now.’
You resume walking side by side, and he continues, ‘Now, since you’re our only guest this week, I can give you two options for your trip. We can do day-long rides with you, and you spend the nights here at the ranch. It’s more comfortable, but it does mean that you don’t get to go as deep into the mountains.’
Champ stops to take a breath. ‘Alternatively, you can go on a week-long pack ride with our cowboy and camp along the way, just the two of you. It's a magnificent journey, I can promise you.’
It’s a lot of information to take in so quickly, and you hesitate. ‘Um - ’
He holds up a hand at you and pauses abruptly, something catching his eye. ‘Ah, speak of the devil. Before you decide, you need to meet our cowboy. He'll be your guide for the week.’
You’re craning your neck to catch a glimpse when Champ bellows so loudly that you nearly have to take cover. ‘JACK! Son! Say hello to our guest for this week before you take the horses to pasture.’
Your ears still ringing, the silhouette of a man on horseback comes into view halfway across the yard. The dust seems to magically settle and part, and a handsome face framed by a cowboy hat, a tidy moustache and a wicked sharp jawline comes into focus.
‘Whoa.’
You belatedly realise that you said that out loud when Champ wriggles his eyebrows at you.
‘Howdy, ma’am,’ the cowboy calls back, tipping his hat politely. His voice rings brightly in the space between you, but the delicious lick of his Southern drawl makes goosebumps chase across your skin. You manage a weak smile and a wave, not trusting your power of speech at the moment.
‘Be back at four to take the lovely lady on her orientation ride, alright?’
Jack gives him a two-fingered salute. ‘Got it, boss. See you soon, ma’am.’
You watch unashamedly as the cowboy smoothly steers his horse around, and with a whistle, the dozen or so horses follow suit as he canters out of view.
‘So? What say you?’ Champ interrupts your thoughts with an expectant look.
You can’t help the stupid grin that breaks upon your face. ‘The pack trip sounds good.’
Champ claps his hands together so loudly that you jump. ‘Your wish is my command, ma’am. Or rather - Jack’s.' He winks. ‘He’ll pick out a horse for you and take you for a short ride to make sure you’re comfortable before the trip starts tomorrow. Sounds good?’
‘Perfect.’
Stopping outside one of the lodges near the river, Champ sweeps his arm in a flourish. ‘There we go, this is your lovely room for tonight, with the best views of the mountains. Poppy’s left some lemonade and sandwiches inside if you need a pick-me-up, and your bags will be with you shortly. Just make sure you’re ready by four. Got it?’
He holds up a hand to you, and you give him a high five. ‘Got it, Champ.’
‘Welcome to the Statesman, my dear.’
Watching you bound up the stairs with a spring in your step, Champ gives himself an imaginary pat on the shoulder. Well done, old chap. The plan is in motion.
You lay your outfits on the large bed as you chew on a delicious sandwich, weighing the options for your afternoon ride. You packed according to the list the ranch sent in your orientation email, but you wish you’d brought something nicer. They really should’ve included a hot cowboy warning.
You wanted to spend some time on the porch and enjoy the magnificent views of the mountains from your doorstep before the ride, but by the time you’re finally happy with your choice of clothes, you’re startled by rapping on the door.
Sucking in a steadying breath and smoothing back your hair, you turn the knob.
Fuck me sideways. This man is devastatingly good-looking on close inspection.
‘Hi, again,’ you smile, hoping your words didn’t come out as squeaky as it sounded in your head.
The cowboy returns your smile with teeth and tips his hat at you - black suede with a leather band - then offers you his hand. ‘Jack Daniels. Pleasure to meet you properly, ma’am.’
You give him your name and your hand. His grip is firm and assured, the slide of his palm against yours feels weathered and rope-worn. You cross your arms self-consciously, but the words that come out are bolder than you feel. ‘So, Champ says you’re my own personal cowboy for the week?’
He chuckles and plays along, giving you a small bow. ‘I’m at your beck and call, darlin’.’
His rich voice curls around every syllable, dipping and climbing with each inflection, but the languid cadence doesn’t waver. You decide here and then that this man can call you darlin' any time he wants.
He hooks one thumb through a belt loop, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He runs his eyes up and down your body, both professionally assessing and not, lingering on your breeches, riding boots and half chaps. He arches an eyebrow at you and says in a playful tone, ‘So, I see you’re one of those fancy English riders.’
You gesture at the flannel shirt you’re wearing, the ends tied in a knot to give it a cropped fit. You think you look cute - hopefully. You choose to crack a joke, ‘Give me some credit, cowboy, I’m trying to fit in.’
He holds his hands up in surrender, pushing himself off the door. ‘My apologies, darlin’, where are my manners? The illusion is perfect. You ready to go?’
You grab your riding hat. ‘Absolutely.’
Jack takes one look at your helmet and tuts, plucking it from your fingers. ‘Oh no, that won’t do. That is one thing I don't allow on my rides. We’ll find you a real hat.’
It’s a short walk to the stables. You hang back with all the subtlety you can muster to quietly study the cowboy you’ll be sharing close quarters with for the next week. His walk is deliberate, he almost prowls, narrow hips undulating with the rhythm of his strut. When he reaches up to adjust his hat, his shirt strains over his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up in the afternoon heat. Your eyes are about to dip a lot lower when he turns back to look at you, and you duck your head like you’ve been caught with your finger in the pie.
Are you imagining the touch of self-satisfaction that’s crept into his warm eyes?
‘So, how long have you been riding?’ he slows down so you can catch up with him. You’re relieved he doesn’t call you out on your very obvious appraisal of him.
You shrug. ‘Since I was a kid, but I haven’t been on a horse since - ’ You pause to rearrange your words. ‘- for almost five years. And I’ve always ridden the English way, so I don’t know how well I’ll do with Western riding.’
He brushes away your concern. ‘Western is easy, it’ll be a piece of cake for you, I’m sure.’
The stables are large and airy with rustic beams framing a vaulted ceiling. Utility barns are clustered outside in close vicinity, but all is still in the mid-afternoon hour. Your footsteps echo as you make your way down the concrete corridor, Jack’s sturdy cowboy boots treading heavier and louder than your riding boots. Large and tidy stalls line either side, some empty and some occupied.
‘The horses spend most of the summer outdoors,’ explains Jack. Stopping in front of a huge chalkboard nailed to the wall, he gestures at the daily schedule listed next to each name, written in a neat hand. ‘We keep them on a weekly roster to make sure their workload is evenly distributed.’
Resuming your slow course deeper into the stables, Jack asks conversationally, ‘What are you looking for in your horse for the week?’
It’s a broad question that you don’t quite know how to answer. You purse your lips. ‘To be honest? I don’t know, it’s been a while.’
‘Ok. Let’s put it this way - what’s important to you?’ He ticks off the options with his fingers. ‘Character? Temperament? Speed? Stamina?’
Is it just you or did his voice dip an octave on that last word?
Flustered, you struggle to come up with a reply. ‘Um - ’
Seeing that you’re overwhelmed, he wipes the slate clean with a wave of his hand. ‘I apologise, I didn’t express myself well.’ He changes tact. ‘Why don’t you tell me about your favourite horse?’
That you can do. You think about the last horse you really loved, before you met your ex, casting your mind back to long weekend afternoons at the local stables. The answer comes easily to you as your eyes fall to the tips of your black boots.
‘I like a horse that's forward-going but responsive to contact, and on the hot-blooded side with a bit of an attitude - I like a challenge.’ Feeling his eyes on you, you lift your gaze to his apologetically. ‘Sorry, was that way too vague or way too specific?’
‘Not at all. I appreciate a lady who knows what she wants,’ he reassures you, seemingly pleased at what he’s hearing. ‘I got just the horse for you.’
You must be in the middle of the stables structure now, when Jack makes a sharp right turn into a spacious room. Your eyes widen at the rows and rows of beautifully polished Western saddles, bridles and an assortment of other tack, some of which you don’t even recognise. Eyeing the signs above each saddle, you remark, ‘I see there’s a recurring theme in the names.’
Jack hoists a gorgeously embossed tan saddle off its rack on the wall, holding it against his side as if it weighs nothing, then grabs the bridle next to it and a saddle pad. ‘What do you expect from a ranch that also runs a distillery?’
Your eyebrows shoot up. ‘A distillery?’
‘Whiskey,’ he replies, making his way to the exit. ‘I’ll show you when we ride up the mountain, it’s on the other side of the ranch. Champ spends most of his time in the distillery nowadays.’
‘Can I help with anything?’ you ask, your hands feeling very empty as you trail behind him.
‘Not a chance, darlin’, you’re the guest. But you can watch if you want,’ he adds mischievously.
Lord have mercy. This man has gotten you more wound up in the last fifteen minutes with a few cheeky words than anyone has in a long time. Pull yourself together, woman.
You pass at least another dozen stalls - this is easiest the biggest stables you’ve ever seen - before Jack’s long strides ease, and at his whistle, the handsome face of a palomino pops up from behind a door. He nickers and nudges the cowboy familiarly on his arm, ears pricking up in alert when you come into view behind him.
‘Meet Scotch,’ Jack says in introduction, giving him a firm pat on the neck. With an easy swing, he rests the saddle on the top of the door and unlatches it, leaving it ajar for you to shuffle in behind him.
‘Hello, gorgeous,’ you can’t help but coo, running your palm from his forehead - painted with a fetching white star - to his grey, velvety muzzle. ‘He’s sweet.’
‘Wait till you get him on the open road - he’s a speed demon.’
You must have let your nerves show, because Jack reassures you, ‘But only if you want him to be. He’s just as happy going steady.’
You lean against the wall as Jack makes quick work of tacking up. You admire the gentle way he fits the bridle over Scotch’s head and the bit in his mouth. Reaching out, you help untuck his white mane from the browband, etched with pretty flowery patterns, and brush out the tangles with your fingers as Jack fastens the clasps.
You can’t help but catch your bottom lip with your teeth when, with a soft grunt, the cowboy lifts the saddle over Scotch’s back. His shirt, tucked neatly into his jeans, stretches taut and you eye the hint of a soft belly underneath. It rests above an almost obnoxiously large belt buckle in the shape of - are you shitting me - a flask with Statesman spelled out in capital letters.
You quickly look away before you’re consumed by the want to reach out and check if it’s a real flask.
The Western saddle has far more bits and bobs than you’re used to, but you’re too far gone to pay attention to what Jack is doing with his nimble fingers anymore.
‘There.’ He straightens, dusts off his hands and places them on his hips, one dark eyebrow up. ‘I hope you were paying attention, ma’am, I might quiz you later.’
Oh shit. You stammer, ‘Um, I mean, you were quite quick -’
Jack crosses his arms and smirks. ‘I’m pullin’ your leg, darlin’. You’re so easy to rile up.’
Before you can restrain yourself, you take a step forward and give him a playful shove in rebuke. The joke’s on you though - the pectoral muscle underneath your palm is lean and hard, and your push makes no impact at all.
‘Employee of the year, ladies and gentlemen,’ you jest, retracting your hand reluctantly.
He leans in close and gives you an almost insolent smirk, voice dropping intimately. ‘Stop distracting me, darlin’, or we’ll never make it out of this stall.’
Fuck’s sake - your cheeks literally flame. You’re about as subtle as a bucking bronco.
Taking mercy on you, Jack herds you out of the stall with no further teasing, and Scotch follows obediently behind. You’ve barely scraped your brains back together when he stops by a doorway at the end of the stables, holding up a hand that brings the gelding to a smart square halt.
‘Stay,’ orders Jack in a stern voice as if Scotch was just a very large golden retriever - he has the colouring after all. He then nods at you. ‘Come on in, darlin’.’
Stepping into the small room, you gasp in delight - every conceivable surface is covered with cowboy hats of all colours and materials.
‘Let’s see what your size is,’ Jack mumbles to himself as he plucks some options off the wall. There’s no mirror, and you hold your breath when he steps into your space, putting one hat after the other on you as he narrows down the sizing. His face is set seriously, the bow of his upper lip drawn downward, brow wrinkled in concentration.
Eventually, you run out of oxygen and you breathe him in - summer grass, leather and smoke. Your tongue darts out and wets your suddenly dry lips.
In the minutest of glances, you catch his eyes flickering to your mouth for just a second. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t have spotted the fleeting stutter in his movements as he fits you with a cream suede hat with a brown leather braid. It sits snugly on your head without any pinch.
‘Try tipping your head forward and back,’ he instructs you, breaking the quiet tension. The hat doesn’t slip, and with a tap on the brim and a smile, he declares, ‘I think we’re good to go.’
Stepping into the open air, the bright afternoon sun makes you wince, and you pull your new hat a bit lower to shield from the light. You follow Jack across the yard, heading towards a chestnut with white stockings, fully tacked and waiting at a wooden post. Ruffling his thick mane, Jack says proudly, ‘Darlin’, meet my horse, Whiskey.’
‘How very fitting,’ you remark, smoothing a hand on his strong neck. ‘Hi, Whiskey.’
Scotch, who has been following you two dutifully, bumps noses with his friend in greeting. Reaching for his reins, Jack looks at you with a question in his eyes - all the tacking up, prepping and joking around is done. Suddenly, the likelihood of falling off your horse and flat on your bum in front of the cowboy seems extraordinarily high. Maybe you really didn’t think this through -
‘Hey,’ Jack cuts short your thoughts, chucking you gently under the chin. ‘Don’t be nervous. It’s all muscle memory - like riding a bike, you can’t forget. You do know how to ride a bike, don't you?’
Your shoulders quake with a laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood.
He tilts his head at you. ‘May I give you a leg up, darlin'?’
At your silent nod, Jack brings Scotch around, and you hope he doesn't see you wipe your sweaty palms on your breeches. One hand on the saddle horn, the other on the cantle you bend your left calf up and back by the hinge of your knee.
Jack steps in right behind your heels, his frame dwarfing you even as he leans down at the ready. One strong hand closes around your ankle and the other just below your kneecap. His voice is deep and brushes against the shell of your ear. ‘On three, darlin’.’
He hoists you up so easily that you nearly go all the way over the other side of the saddle, but you grasp the horn just in time and land squarely in the seat, albeit a bit clumsily. You can’t help but wonder what else he can do with his easy strength - a whole lot of other things, you reckon -
Scotch shifts underneath you as he adjusts to your weight. The basic instincts of being on horseback kick in slowly but surely. You gather the reins in your non-dominant hand, put the tip of your toes through the stirrup irons, push your heels down and sit up tall. You inhale deeply and smile at Jack, who’s checking the tightness of the girth and the length of your stirrups.
‘All good?’ he asks you.
‘Yes,’ you reply, relieved that you feel less like a fish out of water than you’d feared.
Jack unties Whiskey from the post. Slotting his foot in the left stirrup, he effortlessly pushes off the ground and swings his leg over the saddle, settling gently into his seat. It’s really not fair that he’s able to do it so easily in jeans that tight.
Whiskey starts leading the way towards the back of the property and Scotch follows, obviously not pleased to be left behind. Jack holds Whiskey back so that you’re walking alongside him. ‘You’ve seen people ride Western?’
‘I get the general idea. Reins in my non-dominant hand. Leg aids are similar.’
‘If you want to turn to the right?’
‘Reins to the right and shift my weight the same way,’ you reply, recalling the research you did before the trip.
Jack nods approvingly. ‘Sounds like you’ve got it sorted, darlin’.’
Going up a gently sloping path, the ranch disappears behind you as you begin to climb above the property, and the landscape dramatically opens up. Your breath catches at the sight of the rolling plains that stretch too far for your eyes to see, towards the Bighorn Mountains. Scotch’s ears prick up in excitement at the space, nickering and chomping at the bit. You keep your contact on the reins light even as he prances underneath you, mindful not to pull on his mouth.
Jack smiles, and you hope you're making a good impression. ‘Wanna warm up with a little lope?’
‘Lope? You mean a canter?’ you retort jokingly.
He chuckles at your cheek. ‘Alright, ma’am, look at you with your fancy words.’
With a stern finger pointed his way, you warn him, ‘You’re not allowed to laugh if I fall off, deal?’
‘I know you won’t, but for your peace of mind, I’ll cross my heart,’ he jokes and traces the motion over his chest with his thumb. ‘After you, darlin’.’
With the lightest nudge of your heels, Scotch steps straight into a smooth canter. The sudden movement jolts you forward in the saddle and out of balance, but you quickly adjust, and your hips begin to follow the flow of the familiar four-beat motion. The wind sings in your ears over the steady rhythm of hooves hitting the earth, the mountainscape blurring into green and blue.
Jack is keeping pace next to you from a safe distance, meeting your eyes when you send the biggest grin his way.
For the first time in months, you feel joy.
The sun sets on a mild evening, so you agree to an al fresco dinner by the fire when Jack poses the question to you on your return from the afternoon ride.
After a quick shower and changing into casual jeans and a sweater, you meet the rest of close-knit Statesman team at the dinner table, and Champ explains the logistics of the pack trip to you.
‘Since it’s just the two of you, you’ll only need one packhorse. You’ll sleep outside for the first two nights, then on the third, you’ll get to the Halfway House.’
The peculiar name piques your interest. ‘Halfway House?’
Champ chuckles. ‘Halfway as in halfway through the trip. We’ll drive out to stock up the house, bring you fresh clothes and anything you’d need for the second half of the trip back to the ranch. We’ll also collect your dirty clothes and have them laundered by the time you’re back. So make sure you pack two bags, we’ll sort them out tomorrow.’
Turning to Poppy, he starts discussing the provisions for the trip, and you take the chance to shuffle closer to Ginger. Jack is at the far end of the table, deep in conversation with a man introduced to you as Tequila (you didn’t ask), so you’re sure he can’t overhear you. You clear your throat. ‘So, I was wondering what the… lavatory arrangements are like out there?’
She gives you a encouraging smile. ‘It’s all au naturale, I’m afraid. But there are plenty of bushes so privacy won’t be an issue. We bring a portable shower for guests for the days you camp out, and there’s running water and electricity at the Halfway House. But at this time of the year, Jack usually just washes off in the river.’
Your jaw drops at that revelation, and before you can close your big mouth, you babble, ‘Wow… um, by wow I meant… bathing in the river must be… cold?’
Ginger gives you a knowing grin and clinks your glass. ‘I think you’ll have a great time on this trip, honey.’
It’s early, as the first day of a pack trip always is. The chill from daybreak still clings to the thin mountain air, but the glare of the sun is already strong, even from behind his sunglasses.
Jack runs through his usual checklists. Vetting the horses, triple checking the tack, bedding, food, supplies, first aid kit. He’s collected your bag from your doorstep and loaded it on the packhorse. You pack light, which he appreciates.
He spotted you at the breakfast table earlier, almost done with your toast, when he crossed the yard with the horses, so he reckons you’re on track to make a punctual start. With the heat forecast, he wants to make it to the cover of the forest path before midday. If you make good time, a sunset dip in the lake is on the cards.
As he double checks if all the straps on the saddle bags are properly buckled up, his routine is disrupted by a firm pat on his back.
Champ is a bundle of energy even at this early hour of the day, his suit on just the right side of presentable despite the wrinkles. ‘Have a good trip, son, and make sure you show our guest a good time. I like this one.’
‘You like everyone, Champ,’ retorts Jack, but there’s no real bite in his words. ‘Not sure it counts for much.’
‘I got a good feeling about her, I’m telling you.’
The younger man sighs, one hand on the rump of the packhorse and one on his hip as he braces himself for the usual spiel. ‘C’mon, boss - ’
‘You’re young, you’re single! If you insist on hiding away on this ranch in the middle of nowhere, you might as well at least try to have a good time when the opportunity presents itself.’
‘Why don’t you bother Ginger about it? She’s young and single too,’ grumbles Jack as he resumes his checks.
‘Because I know she can take care of herself. But you?’ Champ makes a face.
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss,’ he grumbles. ‘Just so we’re clear, I’m not hiding from anything. I actually like this job, but half the time I think you’re just trying to get rid of me.’
Spotting you over Jack’s shoulder, Champ gives him one last clasp on the arm. He leans in and says in a low voice, eyes sincere. ‘You don’t have to punish yourself forever, son. Live a little.’
Jack shakes his head as Champ moves away and calls out to you, his boisterous voice carrying even further in the cold air. He knows Champ means well. It’s not the first time he’s tried to set him up with someone, and he can confidently wager it won’t be the last.
He knows for a fact that his boss rescheduled the Kingsman’s annual trip to engineer this one-on-one pack trip - they’ve been coming to the ranch the same time every year without fail since he started this job. He has no doubt they were more than delighted to be in cahoots with Champ in a scheme like this.
Jack huffs a dry laugh to himself. He must be coming off as really fucking sad for Champ to go to such lengths this time.
He straightens his well-worn denim jacket as you approach, looking almost shy this morning. You’re wearing a light fleece over what appears to be the same outfit from yesterday, hands tucked into pockets, hat dangling from the chin strap looped around your wrist.
He gives you a smile. ‘Mornin’, darlin’. Sleep well?’
‘Morning. Probably not as well I should have, considering we’ll be sleeping on the hard ground for the next couple of nights,’ you answer with a yawn, leaning on the post where the horses are waiting. You rub their noses affectionately. ‘Morning boys, how are we this fine morning?’
Jack gestures at the third horse. ‘This is Bourbon, our packhorse.’
‘Hey Bourbon.’ You give the pinto a firm pat, smoothing out his matted forelock.
‘You ready?’ asks Jack.
You put on your hat and nod determinedly. ‘Now or never.’
‘It’s not too late to back out, you know, ’ he jokes as you both start untying your horses from the post.
‘Oh no, you’re not getting rid of me now, cowboy,’ you quip.
When you’re both mounted, Champ and Ginger make an appearance, waving and beaming from ear to ear as you ride by. Champ grins, ‘Have fun, we’ll see you in a week! Don't come back unless you have plenty of stories to tell!’
You retrace the same path you took yesterday, up the back of the ranch and into the mountains. As the orange sun crests the top of the Bighorn, it dawns on Jack that he hasn’t spent any amount of time alone with another person for a long while, let alone seven continuous days with someone like you.
He shakes his head. You’re a guest, that’s all. One who hasn't lost your gentle hands and soft seat despite not having spent any time in the saddle for years; who is quick on your feet yet easy to fluster; who laughs at his jokes and poorly concealed innuendos - but a guest. It’s his job to keep you safe this week, and he’s good at it. He’s done this for years and years.
Sometimes, he thinks that it’s all he has.
Something like anxiety gnaws at his chest. You’re quiet, and he picks up on the stiffness in your shoulders. He clears his throat. ‘Nervous?’
You turn to him at his question, sucking in your bottom lip. ‘I suppose. Not about the riding, but… I’m a bit nervous about spending the week with you, to be honest. No offence.’
Well, at least he’s not the only one.
‘None taken,’ he shrugs nonchalantly. ‘And don’t worry, darlin’. Ol’ Jack doesn’t bite.’
His pulse skips a beat when you send him an almost impertinent sidelong glance. ‘I hope you do a little bit, cowboy.’
It takes him a second to let out a bark of laughter, and your whole body relaxes at the throaty sound. ‘Maybe I’m the one who should be nervous, then. Shall we stretch our legs? Start the day with a lope?’
Scotch recognises the word and whinnies, tossing his head excitedly.
A gentleman at heart, Jack adds, ‘Or later, if you prefer. We can go as fast or as slow as you want, darlin’.’
A slow heat burns under your skin at his words. Surely he must know what that sounds like, especially in that raspy drawl of his.
It must be the altitude that’s throwing your judgement out of the metaphorical window. Brazenly, you drag your eyes over him. His left hand grips the reins loosely, resting casually on the saddle horn, thick fingers of his other are splayed on his firm thigh, hips rocking to the pace of his horse.
You meet his curious stare in a challenge, imbuing your words with as much meaning as you could, letting a coy smile stretch your lips.
‘Let’s go fast, cowboy.’
As soon as your heels touch his sides, Scotch takes off at a lively stride, and Jack watches you go with a chuckle to himself.
‘Careful what you wish for now, darlin’,’ he mutters under his breath, and then he comes after you - fast.
Notes: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this first part! Comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated. If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please fill in my taglist.
If anyone is interested, there are some more horsey notes below (if it's boring, please let me know and I'll shut up lol):
About 'gentle hands' and 'soft seat': a kind rider uses 'quiet' aids to communicate with the horse (i.e. no pulling on the bit or flapping legs), and follows the horse's movements with their hips (i.e. their seat) to be gentle on the horse's back. It's a very subtle skill and you use a lot of core strength that is built over the years - sitting quietly on a horse is much harder than it looks!
If you can't tell, I ride the 'English' way and have never ridden Western. I've done as much research as I could, but if there are any inaccuracies, please let me know!
#jack daniels au#jack daniels xf!reader#jack daniels x fem!reader#jack daniels x you#jack daniels fanfiction#jack daniels fanfic#jack daniels x reader#jack daniels#jack whiskey daniels#kingsman fanfiction#kingsman golden circle
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Text
Euclidean Geometry
Summary: They make no attempt to define what this is, who they are to each other. All they know is that now they are together.
Pairing: Modern!Pero x Frankie x Jack x f!reader (sort of, this is in the third person, reader is referred to only as she/her)
Rating: E 🚨 absolutely no minors
Word count: 1.4k
Warnings: smut, M/M and M/M/F; some implied D/s dynamics; allusions to the lingering trauma of military service
A/n: I don’t know what this is (other than absurdly self-indulgent nonsense), but this idea hooked its claws into me and this is what resulted. It’s just kind of a series of snapshots, really. No plot, just vibes. There may be more after this, we’ll see.
Masterlist.
———
They don’t meet each other until after their time in the service.
Thank god, Pero tells them. I surely would have otherwise murdered you both long before now.
Stop me if you’ve heard this one: three veterans walk into group therapy…
A Delta Force pilot in recovery. A surly Field Artillery officer. A cocky Air Force fighter pilot with a name as ridiculous as his skills in a jet. All here because they are each too full of anger with nowhere to put it.
Talking at therapy turns into talking at a bar after each session. They circle each other, like a pod of killer whales, or maybe like galaxies, pulling closer and closer together over bottles of beer and games of pool.
None of them can say the exact moment it became more. Was it the first time Jack accidentally brushed a hand across the small of Frankie’s back as they walked out of the bar one night, and he felt the shiver that went up the other man’s spine? Was it the night Pero finally spoke about the loss of his first love, his description of William and his death on a desert battlefield making all three men shed silent tears in the privacy of a dark corner booth? Surely it had to have been long before they found themselves in Jack’s bed that first time, letting their bodies say what they could not yet find words for: I want you, I trust you, I know you, I see you.
They make no attempt to define what this is, who they are to each other. All they know is that now they are together.
They each crack the others open, the process of healing as painful and beautiful as filling in their scars with gold.
And then there is her.
The relationship between the three men had not been a closed loop, not at first. There had been times where one of them (Jack, more often than the others) had gone off and for a one- or two- or (never more than) three-night stand with another person. And there had been other times where two or even all three of them had shared a temporary partner. But with her, it clicks, it solidifies. They stop searching for more, for new, for other.
If three’s a crowd, what is four? A square, a shape beautiful in its simple perfection, a shape that can only be composed of equals - each line and each angle taking up equivalent space, none more or less important than any of the others, and each one essential.
It’s her, Frankie says. I never thought I could need or want more than the two of you, but it’s her. Now we fit. Now we are complete. Now I understand.
It’s a push and pull.
She worries, at first, about being the outsider, the civilian. These men have known too much, seen too much, lost too much. They may not have served together, but they have a connection to each other in a way she knows she will never share. Isn’t she selfish for wanting all of them? What if she’s intruding?
Never, darlin’, Jack promises her.
They always worry about it being too much, of them being too much, in her life and especially in her bed. What woman would accept any one of them, with their still-open wounds and their ghosts and their raw, ragged edges, let alone all three of them? But with her there is light and warmth and laughter and quiet reassurance. And the way she cries and begs for them when they have her naked against cool sheets - needy and eager and so, so wet - means they always give in to her.
———
To the extent that there is an alpha, it’s Frankie, his quiet, unassuming manner giving way to something both commanding and depraved when given an appropriate outlet.
She comes home one day to find Frankie on the edge of the bed, Jack in his lap with Frankie’s cock buried inside him and Jack’s hands tied behind his back with his own whip. She can’t see from the doorway to know for sure, but from the way Frankie’s arm moves and the slick repetitive sound she suspects he has his palm wrapped around Jack’s cock.
I think Pero’s about to have dinner ready, she says. Frankie doesn’t look away from Jack’s face.
Thanks, baby, Frankie murmurs. We’ll be done here in a minute.
Jack says nothing. Frankie is the only man capable of rendering him speechless.
———
Some things linger from their time in the military. They rise early without fail and without alarms. They note the exits of any room they enter. They are a unit.
She introduces a necessary messiness into their lives. They can’t make the bed the way years of routine make them itch to when she’s still fast asleep in it long after they’ve woken up. And that’s okay - the rigidity of the Army, the Air Force, isn’t their lives anymore. Not if they don’t want it to be. Slowly, first through therapy and then through each other, they learn how to let certain things go.
They are, the four of them, deeply loyal and fiercely protective of one another. But Pero, more than any of the others, is possessive. He feels it like a dark, smouldering ember in his heart that flares hot and angry at any perceived threat. He worries, sometimes, not wanting it to fester into something unhealthy and poisonous. It manifests in the marks he leaves on their skin, the outline of his teeth sunk into the meat of Frankie’s shoulder and Jack’s chest, purple bruises sucked into their girl’s throat, her breasts, her thighs…
There are moments where he allows it out of its cage, this need to lay claim. Moments where the others are tangled together and Pero sits apart, content to observe. Moments where their girl writhes between Frankie and Jack, stretched wide on both their cocks, all three of them panting with that heady mix of exertion and pleasure.
Another, Pero growls from his place in the corner armchair. Make her come again.
She lets out a breathy whine as Jack reaches around her to rub at her clit with one hand, the other pulling Frankie close for a lazy kiss. Pero slowly strokes his own hard length, that feeling of possession now shot through with pride. She turns her head in his direction and reaches for him, their girl (his girl) full to the brim and still needing him.
He indulges her, coming close and planting one knee on the bed beside them. He threads his fingers through Jack’s hair and tugs, just the way he knows the other man likes, and trails his other hand down Frankie’s sweat-slicked back to tease between his cheeks.
You’re doing so well, my loves, he rumbles quietly to each of them.
Some things simply are, and they are his.
———
It was Jack who had first approached her, timing his trip up to the bar for another round at the same time as hers.
She’d caught the attention of all three of them, an unprecedented feat. Something in the way she’d laughed at something one of her friends had said, perhaps, or maybe they were all just tipsy enough to find the fluid grace with which she maneuvered herself into and out of the booth she was sitting in unusually compelling. Whatever the explanation, they could not look away.
Go on, cowboy, Frankie had nudged Jack. Shoot your shot.
Jack had sauntered up to the bar, an odd fluttering of nerves taking up residence in his rib cage.
A greeting, a grin, a wink.
You know what they say about fighter pilots, darlin’?
A smile.
They play a lot of beach volleyball?
———
And now he has her, now he has them, this thing he never thought he’d get to have again.
Jack, more than Frankie or Pero, craves softness. His head resting in one of their laps as they rest on the couch. Cradling their girl in his lap while she reads. A comforting touch. A soothing word. The others reaching straight through the facade of bluster and bravado to his heart and saying easy now.
They stand, the four of them, as sentinels, watching over one another.
What do you need, three will ask one.
You, they always reply. You, you, you.
#Pedro Pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#frankie morales fanfic#jack daniels fanfic#pero tovar fanfic#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#jack daniels x you#jack daniels x reader#pero tovar x reader#pero tovar x you
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