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gloomwitchwrites · 5 months

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Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): foul language, death of a spouse, brief descriptions of death & injury, symptoms of grief, brief suggestive themes

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Part Three of Ink & Needle

A tragedy pulls you back to England. A certain masked man follows your arrival.

Chapter Two // Chapter Four

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Three Years Later

Outside the café window, the sky is a dark gray, threatening rain. Across the street is the Cambridge train station. Commuters move to and away from the station, many of them jumping into cabs, waiting at the nearby bus terminal, or entering the pedestrian areas. Several even enter the café you’re currently waiting in.

Your fingers tap on the plastic lid of your coffee cup in a steady, nervous thrum. Your sandwich is off to the side, hardly touched. You’ve only managed a few bites. It’s not that the sandwich is bad but that you’re so exhausted that even food turns your stomach.

At the moment, sleep is an elusive creature, and you certainly cannot curl up in your chair and fall asleep in the café.

You haven’t slept in hours. Anxiousness simmers in every part of your body. On the flight into O’Hare International, you almost puked up your breakfast. Then, on the connecting flight into London, your stomach was a roiling mess. You spent the whole flight staring at the ceiling of the plane praying that you didn’t need to quickly run to the bathroom. The train from London to Cambridge was no better. Your stomach still isn’t cooperating.

You sigh and try again anyway. Tearing into the sandwich, you chew slowly, thinking that maybe if you only focus on the flavors, you’ll sense something.

The bite is dead in your mouth. Bland.

Perhaps you’re getting sick.

You glance out the café window, your gaze scanning the sidewalk and street. Evie is late, which is so unlike her, but entirely understandable. She just buried Archie less than a week ago, and the whole reason you’re back in London is because of the fucking shitty situation Evie is in now that Archie is dead.

It isn’t fair. Evie doesn’t deserve any of this. The two of them should be celebrating their three-year wedding anniversary next month.

You don’t have the ability to track Evie on your phone—the cellular fees alone would be astronomical. All you have is Evie’s “on my way” text and a hope that she’ll turn up soon. You miss her. You want to hold her in your arms and remind her that there are still people in her life that love her.

Evie still hasn’t made an appearance after another ten minutes, and you turn back to the offending sandwich, taking another bite as if this one might be the one that does it.

Nothing. You almost spit it back onto the plate.

You run your hand over your face. Now that you’re sitting, and at your destination, your body is screaming out for rest. Every muscle and limb aches, and you know your eyes are likely bloodshot from the lack of sleep.

“There you are.”

The soft, melodic voice draws your gaze away from the café window. There’s Evie, beautiful even though she looks a mess. There are deep bags under her eyes and her chestnut-colored hair is bunched up on the back of her head in a bun. Worse, Evie’s eyes are watery, like at any moment she’s about to burst into tears.

Evie stands right in front of you, and as your gaze roams down her body, taking note of how disheveled she looks, you land on the one thing that makes this situation so much worse.

With one hand, Evie cradles her pregnant belly. The other rests against the bulging curve. Eight months. Her due date is coming up quick. On her and Archie’s three-year anniversary of all things.

You stand quickly and throw your arms around your best friend, squeezing her tightly but minding the belly, oozing every ounce of love you have for her into the embrace.

“I’m sorry, Evie. I’m so sorry.” Your voice nearly breaks but you manage to reel it in before it shatters.

No number of apologies could ever replace what happened. Wrong place, wrong time is what Evie was told. The bullet wasn’t even for Archie. The person aiming the gun shot wide of their mark, striking Archie in the back of the head.

He died while on a business trip for his family’s consulting firm in the United States. Archie was on his way to meet up with a few friends when his skull was blown off. Evie was told that he died quickly. That he probably didn’t feel a thing.

You draw back a bit and smile softly. “Please sit.” You pull away but keep one hand on Evie’s back, gesturing at the chair across the table from yours.

Evie winces into the seat. “How was your flight?” she asks, rubbing the top of her belly. “And the train?”

“Fine. All fine,” you reply quickly. A lie. You’re bone-tired. Aching in all sorts of places. “How are you? Are you doing okay?” You desperately need to know.

Evie has no family. None. She’s an only child. Her mother died when she was young, and her father died of Coal Worker’s Pneumoconiosis after his retirement. The only family she has in the world is Archie’s, and most of them despise her working-class roots. You distinctly remember Archie’s mother calling Evie a “leech” to her face minutes before the ceremony took place.

That hag of a woman sat in the front row of the church like she hadn’t just spit venom.

Reaching out, you rest your arm across the table, presenting your open palm. Evie stares down at it for a brief moment before sliding her hand into yours, squeezing. Her eyes are wet, close to spilling over, and you decide that this topic of conversation is not appropriate for such a public spot.

“We can talk about it later. If you want,” you murmur, not wanting to draw unneeded attention to her.

Eve sniffles and nods, releasing your hand to dig around in her purse for a tissue.

You slowly draw your hand back into your lap. “I can tell you about work,” you suggest. Evie daps at her eyes and then blows her nose. “Want a bite of my sandwich?”

The offer falls flat. Evie shakes her head. “You should eat it.”

And you need to eat something Evelyn Green.

“You need it more than me,” you insist. “Honestly, I’m not feeling it. Don’t want to let it go to waste.” You push the plate across the table to her.

You don’t need to ask to know Evie isn’t eating. Her cheeks are sunken and her skin is on the paler side like she’s fallen ill. Evie holds the sandwich in both hands and takes a pensive bite. She chews slowly, and then digs in as if starved.

Without Archie here, has no one checked on her? Has Archie’s family completely cut her off? It makes your blood boil.

In the States, you can’t really do anything, but now that you’re here—now that you’re actually witnessing the state she’s in—you’re fucking furious.

The best thing for you to do is to not linger on it or bring it to Evie’s attention. This is something you can tackle later when you’ve had time to calm down.

You adjust in your chair and clasp your coffee cup with both hands. “The technical writing work pays but isn’t that exciting, unless you’d like to hear about the furniture instructional manuals I’ve been editing.”

Evie grins around a bite of food and that small, amused smile is enough to ease some of that internal anxiousness.

“I do have come fiction clients. Pay isn’t nearly as good, but very enjoyable.”

Evie chews and swallows. “I’m glad you’re staying busy.” Her smile softens a bit. “And that you’re here.”

“I’ve missed you, Evelyn Green.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

You take a small sip of your coffee. It’s gone cold.

“I’ll grab another for the road.” You lift the coffee cup. “Once you’re finished, we’ll leave.”

You take Evie’s car to her house near the outskirts of Cambridge proper. Even though Archie helped his father run the family business, he had his own ambitions when it came to his career. He took a part-time teaching job at the university. He and Evie moved out to Cambridge quickly, mostly to escape his family.

While Archie loved them, he did not love how they treated Evie. He spent a great deal of time away from them, but coming from privilege has its own issues. Archie was always called to attend this or that event, and Evie always came along.

From the street, all you see are tall hedges. When Evie pulls into the drive and stops at the gates, you glimpse a small sliver of brick. Evie presses a button on a small remote and the gate opens inward. The hedges are only a natural fence, and once you’re past them, you finally see the house Evie has called home for the past two years.

It’s all brick with wide windows and a flowerbed that follows the outline of the house. The tall hedges mark the property boundaries, and you cannot see into any of the neighbors’ yards. The property itself is deep, stretching vertically back from the road.

Evie pulls up to the garage but doesn’t pull inside. Instead, she parks the car and starts to get out. You follow suit, moving to the trunk to withdraw your suitcase.

“This is gorgeous, Evie.”

“Thank you,” she replies softly. “Archie picked it out.”

The mention of Evie’s dead husband immediately puts you on edge. You glance at your friend and frown. She’s staring off into the distance.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you go over to her and slide your arm around hers. “Show me around.”

Evie seems to melt a bit, whatever it is that held her slipping away for a moment. She tilts her head toward you and smiles. Over the next few minutes, Evie shows you the private backyard complete with garden and pool. From there, the two of you enter through the mudroom door, kicking off your shoes and heading into the living room.

The space is rustic with deep browns, greens, and golds. There is no minimalism or modernness to this home other than the appliances. You do a small turn, admiring the organized yet maximalist-leaning décor.

“Evie, I—” Your voice cuts when your gaze falls on her.

She is focused on the fireplace mantel. As your attention shifts from her to the mantel, you realize what Evie is staring at. The entire mantel is lined with framed phots of their wedding. There are pictures of just Evie and Archie, some of his family, and ones of the bridal party.

Sighing softly, you move toward her, taking her upper arm to snag her attention.

Reluctantly, Evie’s gaze pulls away from the photographs.

“Can you show me to my room? We can go from there.” You make sure to not sound condescending or worried for her. Evie needs a bit of normalcy.

“Of course,” she nods, showing you to the spare bedroom on the second floor.

You promptly set your stuff down and unpack after Evie slinks away. You’re worried about her and the baby. It’s why you came out here after all. Evie has no one, and with your work, you can easily pack up and travel, taking it with you.

When you return to the first floor, you head into the kitchen. Evie stands in front of the open fridge staring at nothing.

“Evie,” you call out. She doesn’t reply. “Evie.”

She glances over at you and promptly shuts the fridge. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I spaced out.”

“You wanna order takeout?” You slide your phone out of your pocket and wave it in the air. Evie nods and the two of you go to the couch, settling in.

“What are you in the mood for?” You open a food delivery app and begin browsing.

“Whatever you want,” replies Evie.

You tap away at your screen. “What if I’m craving sushi? That would be a problem.”

“True,” she smirks, rubbing the curve of her belly

“What about a super greasy pizza with lots of cheese?”

“We’re in England,” laughs Evie. “Not America.”

“So? There has to be a good pizza place around here.”

Evie leans in a bit and watches your phone over your shoulder. The two of you bicker back and forth but finally decide on the pizza idea.

“How’s baby?” you ask, locking your phone and setting it to the side.

Evie lightly taps her belly. “Good. Healthy.” She winces. “Pushing on my bladder,” she mutters.

“As they do.”

“Archie and I made a list of names. Narrowed it down a bit but never got to finish before…well…now I’m not sure what I like.”

“Do you know what you’re having?”

Evie nods. “You know we wanted to keep it a surprise, but with Archie gone and everything that’s happened, I decided I want to know now. To prepare.”

“Of course. That’s understandable.”

There is so much that still needs to be done, and your arrival only scratches the surface.

Evie gently elbows you in the arm. “Do you want to know?”

You gently elbow her back. “Only if you want to tell me.”

Evie pauses briefly before speaking. “It’s a girl.”

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur. “You’re going to be an amazing mom, Evelyn Green.”

Evie starts laughing, which quickly turns into crying. You sit up, ready to comfort her, but she’s already starting to laugh again.

“Fuck. I think I peed,” she hiccups as she tries to get off the couch. It’s more of a roll and you hop up to assist her. She totters off to change.

The pizza arrives during that time, and the two of you snuggle into the couch, creating a bed of pillows and blankets as you eat pizza and watch a reality show on Netflix. Evie starts to soften, becomes happier, and you love to see it. The pizza is loaded with extra cheese, lots of garlic, roasted tomato, spinach, and a white sauce.

“You know,” you say around a bite of crust. “The fact that ranch is not a staple with pizza here is an atrocity.”

Evie arches an eyebrow and wipes away a wayward strand of cheese from her chin. “You want to eat ranch with this?”

“Not this specifically,” you mutter.

Evie snorts and takes a large bite of her slice. “What I really miss most about the States is the food.”

“Like what?” you press.

“Tacos. And not that hardshell bullshit you get at the grocery store. I want the cilantro, sliced radish, and lime with a salsa so hot it melts your face.”

“Don’t forget the onion.”

“And extra onion,” adds Evie.

You wipe off some grease from the corner of your mouth.

Evie sighs, her shoulders heaving before she turns to look at you. “Thank you. By the way. You didn’t have to come.”

You roll your eyes and give her your best smile. “I’d do anything for you. Plus, I work remote. I can literally go anywhere in the world at any time and still be able to do my job. Honestly, it’s fine. Plus, I’m not paying rent or anything. It’s amazing.”

Evie shakes her head in amusement. Her plate is carefully balanced on her belly. “Are you seeing anyone?”

The abrupt change startles you.

“Nope,” you reply quickly, nibbling on the reminder of your crust.

“Remember that man with the balaclava at Riot Room?” Evie gestures toward her face as if she’s wearing one. “The one Jade, Sam, and I all convinced you to have sex with?”

You drop the pizza crust onto your plate. “Yes.” Why is Evie asking about him?

“Do you ever think about what happened to him? Like, what he might be doing now?”

All the time.

You lick your lips and rub your fingers together over the plate. Crumbs fall from your hands. “Sometimes.”

It’s a total lie. You think about your wraith all the time, especially in the dark when your hand is between your legs. The memory of him is like a deep, poorly healed scar. It is a slash across your heart.

Ghost.

His touch will never fade. He marked you, made you his, and you won’t forget a single moment you spent with him.

“I can’t believe you missed Sam making a move on his friends. What was his name?”

“Gaz?” you offer, vaguely recalling the man that spoke to you when Ghost wouldn’t let go of your arm.

“Was it? I thought Sam said his name was ‘Kyle.’”

You shrug. “The man I ran away with called himself ‘Ghost.’”

Evie nods, yawning. “That’s true.” She shifts slightly in your direction. The plate on her belly stays put. “We have an early morning.”

“Do we?” you ask nonchalantly, thankful for the pivot in conversation.

“Did you ever meet Archie’s grandmother? Amelia?”

There are only a handful of times you’ve met anyone from Archie’s family and most of them were during those last few weeks leading up to the wedding.

“I don’t believe so,” you reply slowly.

Evie rubs at the side of her belly in agitation. “You can’t stay with me forever. And while I appreciate you, I’ll need support when you’re gone.”

Sighing, Evie removes the plate from belly and tries to sit up. Knowing her efforts will be in vain, you take the plate from her and set it on the coffee table.

Evie murmurs a quiet ‘thank you’ and falls back against the couch. “We’re going to stay with her. She lives in the Clapton area of London.”

You’re surprised. Evie loves this home. When her and Archie first moved in, it’s all she could talk about. “You don’t want us to stay here?”

Evie’s mouth turns downward and tears start to form in the corner of her eyes again. You understand the moment the words leave your mouth. This place holds too many memories.

“It’s not like anyone else will have me,” she sniffles even as she tries to laugh it off like it doesn’t bother her.

“They’re a bunch of idiots. And don’t deserve your tears. Fuck. Them.” You stuff the rest of your half-eaten crust into your mouth.

It might not be the nicest thing to say, but the majority of Archie’s family are assholes who deserve to be called by an insult rather than their names,

Evie turns back toward the television. You snuggle in next to her and Evie’s head falls against your shoulder. A single tear rolls down her cheek and you absently wipe it away.

The next day is all business.

It keeps Evie busy enough that she can’t stop to cry, but you still make her take frequent breaks. It’s clear that Evie hasn’t been taking care of herself since Archie’s funeral. She may be eight-months pregnant, but she’s abnormally sluggish and forgetful. Evie keeps losing her train of thought, or she starts to mumble to herself instead of speaking directly to you when you ask her a question.

It’s upsetting, but it mostly makes you angry. It means that Archie’s family has completely abandoned her now that he’s dead. They have no reason to interact with her.

On top of that, there is too much to do, and Evie needs all the support she can get. You don’t want to make England your permanent place of residence, but Evie is like a sister to you. She is family. You won’t toss her to the side.

The biggest hurdle is making sure Evie has adequate help. You’re not the only person Evie should need to rely on. After Evie went to bed last night, you promptly messaged Jade and Sam, detailing the situation. Both of them want to come out, but their jobs are not nearly as flexible as yours.

With the essentials packed, and the car loaded, you and Evie clean out the kitchen, tossing out all the open perishables while boxing up everything that is still good and unopened. The two of you will stop at a local food bank and drop it off.

At midday, the two of you are in the car, driving to London. By American standards, the drive isn’t that far, but the traffic is horrendous. Evie drives, and you take notes of everything that needs to be done while being the perfect passenger princess.

Everything in the house will need to be organized and gone through. Evie plans on staying with Archie’s grandmother which means she needs to downsize. You’ll need to contact an estate agent to appraise and ready the house for the market. All the furniture will either need to be sold, donated, or brought to Ameila’s home. With Archie’s death also comes an enormous amount of wealth all tied up in various assets. None of it makes any sense, and Archie’s personal solicitor will need to be contacted.

None of that includes setting up a nursery or supporting Evie through the rest of her pregnancy. Plus, there is your job to think about. Yes, you do mostly freelance work, but you’re usually sent work by the company that contracts you. There are deadlines that you need to hit.

The GPS beeps and Evie turns onto a massive thoroughfare, crossing a large bridge before coming to a massive roundabout. From there, Evie follows the road a few minutes. She turns onto a side street lined with various business and homes. You recognize nothing. This city is completely foreign to you.

“We’re here,” says Evie, nodding to a two-story brick house. She pulls into a tiny driveway and turns off the car.

Amelia’s home is what you picture when you think of houses in England. Maybe you’ve watched one too many movies, or maybe the stereotype holds true, but it fits the bill. On the outside, it’s clean and taken care of. The short driveway and path to the store is perfectly lain without a single weed. Even the stunted hedges under the front windows are perfectly trimmed.

You’re out of your seat and to the driver side of the car before Evie has the chance to open her door. When she tries to head to the back of the car to empty the trunk, you politely chase her away. You’ll make multiple trips if you need to, but you’re not allowing Evie to lift a single thing.

The front door opens and a short, stout older woman steps out onto the stoop. Her graying hair is clipped to her shoulders. She wears tan pants, the knees of which are patched over with sunflowers on white fabric. The rainboots on her feet are splattered with mud, and the yellow coat and white linen shirt she wears are speckled with a bit of dirt.

Amelia grins as she removes the gloves she’s wearing. “Evelyn!” she calls out.

“Amelia,” greets Evie, her arms outstretched.

Evie waddles over to Amelia and the two of them embrace. Amelia pulls back at the same moment you approach the two women.

Amelia smiles. “Can’t forget you.”

“You—” The words leave your mouth in a huff when Ameila wraps her around your waist and squeezes like she’s trying to snap your spine.

“Evie’s friend,” breathes Amelia, stilling holding tight.

“That’s me, ma’am,” you manage, the sound of your voice mostly strangled breathing.

Amelia abruptly stops hugging you and the sudden release of tension is a perfect inhalation. “Blimey! Hear that, Evie? She called me ‘ma’am.’” Amelia tuts. “None of that ‘ma’am’ nonsense around here. Call me Amelia.”

She glances to the left of you and then the right. You only managed to snag a few bags from the car before walking over to them.

“Well,” begins Amelia. “Hand me a bag and let’s get inside. I have the kettle on. Along with some biscuits and jam.”

“Good,” you sigh. “I’m starving. Ran out of car snacks halfway to London.”

Evie glances over her shoulder and grins at you. “That’s because you ate them all.”

You make a face and Evie laughs, entering through the front door.

The first thing you notice about the place is how many goddamn doors there are. Just inside the front door is another door that enters the living room, then another that leads to the stairs. None of it is open. It’s bizarre. Tight and cramped.

You have to wiggle your way sideways into the living room.

“Drop the bag there dear.” Amelia points to a spot near her sofa. “We can grab them later. Take a seat at the table. Enjoy a cuppa before I start dinner.”

The kettle whistles loudly as you enter the kitchen. Evie stretches a bit before she slides into a chair. You select the chair next to her. Amelia grabs three mugs from a cabinet and sets them on the counter. From a different cabinet, Amelia grabs a tea tin and drops a bag into each mug. She removes the kettle from the stove and starts filling the mugs with hot water.

Steam rises into the air. “Now I know all about Evie, but I know nothing about you other than what she’s told me.”

“Whatever she’s told you. It’s isn’t true.”

“It’s all good stuff.”

“Like I said. None of it is true.”

Evie tries and fails to stifle a snort.

Amelia’s mouth forms an amused smile. “She told me you were a writer.”

“Not exactly,” you say slowly. “I’m an editor. I usually do technical work, but I occasionally branch off into the publishing world of fiction. Especially if I’m looking for a little extra cash flow.”

Amelia ambles over to the table, expertly carrying all three mugs. She sets one down in front of Evie first and then you before herself.

Amelia settles into the unoccupied chair.

“She said your job allowed you to move around. That’s good. Glad you’re here. Evie needs more than me looking after her.”

You swallow, the mug hot against your fingers. “I’m glad I came.”

When you wake in the morning, it’s early. The sun is just starting to ascend.

Evie is still asleep, her breathing even and calm. You slowly unfurl yourself, walking on quiet feet to the bathroom with a change of clothes in tow. You brush your teeth and wash your face. It’s a bit cold but not overly so. You open the small window in the bathroom to check.

You head downstairs, a knee-length cardigan wrapped around your body. The kitchen light is on. There is a hot kettle, two mugs, and tea bags set out. The gesture is lovely but you cannot live on tea. You’ll need coffee eventually or you’ll go insane.

The back door is propped open and you walk up to it, poking your head out into the early morning chill. Amelia is out in the backyard tending to her garden. You step out onto the top stair and call out to her.

Amelia glances up and waves you over.

As you approach, she starts talking, her warm breath creating steam before her face. “Checking on the tomatoes. Bit chilly this morning. Plants don’t like it much.”

You wrap your cardigan a little tighter around yourself. “Can I do anything to help you?”

“That’s sweet of you. But no. At least not out here.” Amelia gestures to the raised garden beds with an outstretched hand. “Could you go to the bakery just across the way? Grab some pastries for today and tomorrow?”

You nod. “Of course. Where is it?”

Amelia removes her gloves and tosses them down onto the edge of the wood garden bed. “When you go out the front door makes a left until you come to the first cross-street. Turn left again and then an immediate left at the small corner store. Just walk that and you’ll see it.” Amelia shrugs. “Usually a line by this time.”

“Is there coffee?”

“They do indeed,” replies Amelia with a knowing grin.

“I’ll just grab my coat.”

“Take your time.”

You head back upstairs to the bedroom to grab your coat. Evie is still asleep. Silently, you snag your coat off the back of a chair and slip it on, leaving through the front door.

There is surprisingly little traffic as you follow Ameila’s detailed instructions. You take a left and follow the row of houses all tightly packed together. When you make it to the cross-street, you turn left again. The corner store comes up quickly. Turning left again, you keep your gaze on the storefronts that line the street. After the corner store is a pub, another pub, a salon, a few restaurants, another pub.

Then, a tattoo parlor.

141 Ink the sign reads. It’s dark inside but it’s fairly early. The sun is much higher now but it’s still not late enough for a tattoo shop to be open.

You shrug and walk on, noticing the line Amelia mentioned almost immediately. It’s not nearly as long as you expected it to be, and you’re through faster than you anticipate.

When you step inside, the smell of roasted coffee beans, baked bread, and cinnamon greet your nostrils. There are so many options and for a moment, you’re a little overwhelmed. But with more people lining up behind you, you make a few selections and collect a coffee for yourself.

With bag and coffee in hand, you start to walk back the way you came. The pastries smell delicious and it takes you a second to realize that the door to the tattoo parlor stands open.

You frown and stop right outside the door. Checking your watch, your eyebrows rise at the time. It’s still incredibly early. Who opens a tattoo parlor at this hour?

Curiosity gets the better of you. You walk up to the entrance and glance inside.

The first thing you notice is a dog. It’s an all-black German Shepard that lays in the early morning sun from the window. His eyes are open and he’s looking at you with interest but not enough to lift his head.

There is the sound of metal clanking against metal. It draws your gaze upward and away from the dog. Your eyes catch a bit of movement. You narrow your focus as your sight adjusts to the shadowy interior.

A man is there with his back to you. He shifts. Turns. And then your heart drops into your stomach.

It’s him. And that is impossible. Of everyone it could be, how could it possibly be him.

Your wraith.

You are frozen. Utterly shocked. He turns a bit more and notices you standing there in the open doorway.

There is zero doubt. None. This is him.

This is Ghost.

Fuck you think. Shit shit shit shit.

You step back and Ghost takes a step forward, his hand falling to his sides, his back straightening like he’s about to move toward you.

Everything about him is the same. All broad shoulders, towering height, and imposing darkness. You know it’s him because of the balaclava. That’s the same, too.

You shake your head and take another step backward.

Ghost takes two.

You turn on your heel, and bolt.

Chapter Two // Chapter Four

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@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @lialacleaf @sharkbitesblog @coffeecaketornado @wren5650

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bri-sonat · 1 year

Text

Kisses Of Fire

Follow-up to Life Eternal

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Knight!Reader

Warnings: NSFW!! Major GoT spoilers, descriptions of violence & blood, angst, SMUTTY SMUT, oral sex, praise kink, semi-public sex, a tiny bit of angst again, fluff.

A/N: so as i was writing this i realized i totally made up my own timeline, oopsie, so i should clarify. the first two fics (enjoy the silence & life eternal) took place post the long night and pre the end. this fic catches up to that. this is (by my own opinion and admission) not my best work, but i've been working on it for so long and it's been approved for public reading, so, here it is. the finale. the end of our two beloved knights' love story. blah blah blah english is not my first language (obligatory warning). i hope the ending is satisfactory to all, enjoy!

big thanks to my dear bestie aron (@queerofalltrades) for reading through it and giving it the stamp of approval, and for helping me with the idea for this fic, without them, this fic wouldn't exist. and spouse heather (@pastanest) for helping me compact complicated GoT plot and for explaining more GoT customs to me.

It had been five months since that fateful night by the stables when your love had screamed after you with all her might with tears in her eyes.

That had also been the last time she had communicated with you at all.

You had sent her ravens, every Sunday for the past months, concluding your week, talking about your father's passing, and your mother. No message was ever sent back but your own, unopened and unread. Despite this you kept sending them, to keep your oath and to let her know you thought about her, every single day.

In your messages to her, you often mentioned things you saw during your day that reminded you of her. Like the bright blue sky, equally as bright as her eyes and smile. The setting sun, just as beautiful and breathtaking as her. Any time you saw something dark blue, much reminding you of the unique armor she always donned.

These small details were added for her to know that you hadn’t forgotten her and that she was always on your mind; had she read them, she would’ve been made aware of this fact.

You couldn’t blame her for ignoring your messages. She was upset that you left, that you didn’t listen to her cries. That you had made her fall in love, and that you ripped her heart out of her chest.

What you couldn’t understand, however, was her stubbornness, she knew you had no choice. In fact, she would’ve done the same had her father gotten ill, considering she’s his only heir. The only difference was she would’ve let you come with her; she would’ve begged you to.

She would have hired you as her main bodyguard, as her master-at-arms, as Commander of her troops, she would have hired you as anything if it meant always having you at her side. Even as she ruled over Tarth.

That was the difference between her and you, she had obligations and could not join you, even when she desperately wanted to, you, however, could join her. You weren’t sworn to anyone but your family, Brienne, and the Gods, there was work for knights everywhere, you could go wherever you wished.

She went where her loyalties led her, and her loyalties always led her to the daughters of Lady Catelyn Stark. Despite the Lady’s murder at the red wedding years prior, the honorable blonde kept serving the daughters, because death did not release her from her vows. You admired her extreme loyalty and virtue, there weren’t many people like her left in the world you lived in, everyone was either greedy, monsters, liars, or all three.

Your unopened scrolls started to pile up on your desk and you wondered how long she would keep this up. Your patience only lasted for so long and you couldn’t deny the pang of hurt that surged through you and your heart when yet another message was returned, unread. After a while, you started to wonder if she had even received your ravens at all.

About one month after you had arrived at your family’s residence in Lemonwood, your father passed due to his illness, leaving you and your mother as the attendees of the family business.

The four months that passed after that were spent keeping up the trade, meeting shipments at Planky Town as they came in from the Westerosi coast and the Free Cities of Essos, comforting your mother, and sending unrequited ravens to Brienne.

To honor your duties as a knight, you offered your help to the Martell family, having history with them that went all the way back to your grandfather's childhood. The only living one of them called for you every now and then for advice, or just to help patrol around Sunspear.

You were a familiar face for most, having spent a lot of time in the city growing up, and you recognized some people as well, stopping to have a chat with some; and others, you just gave a polite nod to considering where you knew them from.

Brienne was a constant on your mind, even when you received the news one week after your arrival of Kings Landing crumbling, the deaths of Jaime and Cersei Lannister, and Jon Snow assassinating Daenerys Targaryen.

A few weeks after the fall of the capital and the deaths, Prince Martell had to leave for unstated business in Kings Landing. He had asked you to look over things while he was away and you accepted, not inquiring what said business was about.

He had returned about a week later and stated that Bran the Broken had taken the now melted Iron Throne and that The North had been established as an independent kingdom with Sansa as its ruler. The mention of her name brought forth memories of the last time you had spoken to her, recollections of Brienne, and eventually evocations of her by the stables.

You had no news of your knight; you did not even know if she was alive.

You desperately wanted to ask Prince Martell about Brienne. Just a simple, ‘My Lord, was there a tall blonde by Sansa Starks’ side?’ would have been adequate, but you hadn’t dared to verbalize the query in case the answer was no. If the answer was no, it meant that she was no longer alive, because your knight was always by the redhead's side as her sworn sword.

Part of you hoped that if she had met her untimely death, you’d be notified; but had to come to terms with that there would be no reason for anyone to think of doing so.

Around the same time of Prince Martell's return from Kings Landing, your raven returned, however, something was different this time. The bird carried both your scroll and another. You had hoped it was from Brienne, disappointment settled in when you saw that it wasn’t.

The words on the Stark stationary were very few, only there to convey the brief piece of information necessary. Despite the lack of long and many sentences, the small amount was exactly what you needed to hear.

“Brienne no longer resides in Winterfell. She has relocated to the White Sword Tower in Kings Landing. – Sansa Stark.”

She was alive. A flood of relief washed over you but was quickly replaced by sadness and confusion. She was alive but ignored your messages; and she was in the King's Guard, of course.

You read the message again and detected that Brienne's and Sansa’s titles were missing in the message, meaning she had forsaken professionalism. This led you to the conclusion that she somehow knew about you and your knight's infatuation with each other. It gave you a sense of calmness, knowing that you would have been notified had she perished.

It then broke your heart, realizing that the blonde couldn’t let go of her pride for one second to personally let you know of her relocating, she had to have someone else do it for her. You would have expected her to tell you so herself but apparently, that was too highly anticipated of you, so silly of you to think that she could be bothered to tell you personally, how unreasonable, how idiotic.

There were whispers of a new Lord Commander, but no one knew who they were, only that the King's Guard now only consisted of two knights. You knew that Brienne was one of the members, considering her new residency but still had no idea who the Commander could be considering they had no distinguishing marks to tell them apart from the rest of the guard.

So, until it was confirmed who had filled the position, it was unknown information and you made it a habit to spike your ears whenever you heard people mention ‘Lord Commander’ in conversation, hoping to learn what everyone was curious to know.

———

Brienne’s life had been quite non-identical. She had spent the entire week after your departure mourning you. She noticed your absence in everything: her bed, her heart, breakfast, training, dinner, and the void was particularly draining after her patrols when your usual midnight meetings would occur. She had gotten used to your touch, now the only thing she felt was the cold hand of complete loneliness.

During your stay, Brienne's squire, Podrick, had noticed the taller knight's infatuation with you and stayed away, giving you the space to speak uninhibitedly. You had not met him but had heard such wonderful stories of their adventures together. He instead lurked in the background, training with your love when you had split off during the day.

With you gone, he had proven to be a comforting presence for Brienne, but the hole left inside of her was still gaping, a void that only you could seal. She trained him whenever she had free time, which was more often with you not there, and he grew stronger and stronger for each day that passed.

Sometime after the Battle of Kings Landing, Brienne traveled to the Dragonpit to represent Tarth in the trial of Tyrion Lannister. From what she had been told by Sansa whose opinion she valued most amongst those present at the trial, Daenerys had gone against his advice, he had then denounced himself as her Hand, resulting in imprisonment for his defiance.

Jon Snow, who Brienne had come to conclude was a good man after the time spent with him at Sansa's side, had then had a conversation with Tyrion within the cell he was held in, before murdering Daenerys.

During the trial, Brienne sat and listened to Tyrion as he advised the gathered council to elect a new King to decide his fate. Expressing his reasoning, he suggested Brandon Stark. At this, the blonde knight assented, as did everyone else.

Brandon Stark then met Sansa’s demand for the North to once again become its own sovereign kingdom, as it was for thousands of years.

Tyrion’s punishment, as decided by King Bran, was to reclaim his position as Hand to the monarch and amend his previous mistakes in the same position, under previous rulers, for the rest of his life. Though the Lannister strongly opposed this idea, that only made the punishment more just, as, to him, it was not the reward that many would take the position to be.

However, the minute Brienne had assented by saying ‘aye,’ she was ashamed to admit how little of her attention she devoted to the trial due to her mind being occupied by thoughts of you, but alas, that was her fate. She was well aware of the people around her and what decisions were made but she couldn’t have cared less.

She had acknowledged your ravens, she just didn’t have the strength to open them, to read about your life without her. She knew she was being unreasonable, and she chastised herself for it. Despite how well aware she was of her unwarranted and irrational behavior, she ignored them, but you just kept sending them and it got harder and harder for Brienne to just leave the inviting scrolls; however, she knew it would only hurt her more to read about your Dorne adventures.

In hindsight, however, those messages would’ve been something much more joy-inducing to have of yours, compared to the only thing she had in her possession.

After the trial, Bran had approached Brienne, and offered her the position of Lord Commander in his Kings Guard, he was a very blunt man, the King, and she had been a bit surprised with just how candid he was. She had managed to hide her initial reaction and had humbly accepted his offer. Sworn the oath at the Stark’s request and stated that her squire is yet to be knighted and that she would do so with haste.

Podrick was ready and had been for a while, but she was called to Kings Landing for the trial before she had the opportunity to knight him. This worked out in his favor however, considering being knighted by someone from the King's Guard and the Lord Commander of it, was seen as prestigious; and would earn him substantially more respect than if she would’ve knighted him when she was still a knight herself.

The King had nodded at her declaration, “I will ask Sansa to have someone pack up and send your belongings here. Tell your squire to come see me as soon as he is a knight. In the meantime, I believe we have some measurements to get for your new armor.”

“Your Grace, there is no need for that. I have no belongings in Winterfell I’d like to keep. I brought everything important with me.”

“Are you sure, Lord Brienne?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Very well. Now, come with me.”

Podrick, who had followed Brienne from Winterfell to Kings Landing, had been approached by the taller knight the day after the trial.

He had a puzzled expression on his face as he watched her and she knew he had a question to ask, she would have preferred if he had kept his mouth shut about it but had allowed him to ask it anyways; regretting it as soon as he spoke.

“Lord Commander?” Hesitant in his tone, he had looked up apologetically at Brienne with the hope that she wouldn’t scold him for granting his inquisitiveness to take over.

“Yes, Podrick?” She stared down at him and she could almost see the gears that had been turning in his head; looking for the most well-mannered way to phrase the words that followed.

“I apologize for what I am about to ask but I am afraid curiosity has gotten the best of me. Whatever happened with the knight from Dorne?” She released a sigh, there it was.

“I do not wish to speak of them, not because there is anger but because there’s too much pain.” Brienne had remained stoic in her answer and in her facial expressions, but her insides had been bleeding, almost like she had been impaled by a sword and left to die, bathing in a pool of her own blood.

That was the first and only time she and Podrick ever spoke about your departure. The shorter man had opened his mouth to say something else but was quickly interjected by Brienne. “Come along Podrick. There’s something we need to do.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

As they walked through the ruins of Kings Landing, Brienne wondered if she should’ve been the one to send a raven to inform you of her move to another kingdom, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so.

She had instead asked Sansa if she would send one, to which she agreed. The redhead had seen the affection you held for each other and knew that there was more to your seemingly professional relationship. Brienne hadn’t known the reason for the Stark’s compliance but was grateful for it either way.

All the memories that had been created in Winterfell were painful for Brienne and she found it almost relieving that she didn’t have to return, there was too much sadness there. She did not know when you would return to her, even if it had only been around one month since you had left, so leaving all the woeful memories behind was easier than she had thought.

The happier ones were harder though, the memories in the courtyard, her room, the mess hall, the bathhouse, your room. The room where she had found the letter that changed everything.

She had kept the note. It was now stained with dried tears, the paper damaged by the salty drops; ink smudged in various places. She kept it somewhere safe, out of sight from wandering eyes but close by.

It was read every single night with tears in her eyes before she went to sleep, desperately trying to remember what your voice sounded like, to no avail.

She had brought it with her to Kings Landing for the trial, not wanting to leave without it. Reading through your words had become routine, and it had gotten to the point where she could not sleep if she did not read your letter before bed. It was one of the first personal items to take its home in her new living quarters.

Brienne and Podrick had walked in silence as he took in the crumbled kingdom. The fire had stopped but the damage was still apparent. Blackened remains of destroyed buildings and dried blood on the ground.

The charred corpses had been moved the day before, given a proper burial in unmarked graves, at Tyrion’s request. To have it done within a day, the blue-eyed knight had assisted; her strong arms able to carry double the weight.

It had been a grisly sight, and even Brienne, who had seen plenty of violence in her days, had felt a hint of nausea and sorrow go through her at the sight of the destruction. The smell hadn’t made it any better.

The two had turned a corner and Brienne entered a large building that surprisingly hadn’t been affected by the attack, far enough away from the dragon's path of destruction. The room had been dimmed, rays of sun coming in from the small windows lining the walls; standing along it was Tyrion, his small form lurking in the darkness.

The tall knight stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, Podrick had done the same a couple of feet behind her to avoid crashing into Brienne’s back.

“Tyrion is here to bear witness. I told him that there was no need, but he insisted.” Her voice had been flat, stern. She had turned on her heels, faced him, and pulled out her sword from its sheath, the metal scraping against metal had echoed, the sound bouncing between the bare walls.

“Kneel, Podrick Payne.” He had gotten down on one knee in front of Brienne, gazing up at her, and she had proceeded to lay her sword on his left shoulder, her eyes boring into his. “In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.”

She had shifted the metal of her blade to his right shoulder, carefully placing it down, mindful of the sharpness of the sword's edge. “In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.”

She had switched shoulders again, the metal of the sword gliding in the air. “In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.” She placed her sword back into her scabbard before she had stated her last words, “Arise, Podrick Payne, a knight of the Six Kingdoms.”

One month after your departure, Brienne had knighted Podrick. After this, she and Tyrion took him to see Bran, just as he had requested one day prior. The King had asked him to prove his fighting skills, suggesting he spar against his teacher, “Lord Brienne has trained you and I have no doubts in her skill, I am sure you are more than qualified. It is just a formality. I’m sure you understand, Ser Podrick.”

“Of course, your Grace.”

They had stepped out into a large somewhat empty clearing to give the two knights the space they required, and Podrick had proved his swordsmanship by fighting the blonde, King Bran being more than satisfied after seeing him hold his own against Brienne’s powerful blows.

“That’s quite enough. I can tell Lord Brienne would floor you if we kept going and I need you both in prime health. Approach and kneel.”

Podrick, who had read every book the word ‘knight’ was mentioned in and who had Brienne teach him everything she knew, had gotten down on one knee, and sworn the oath of the King's Guard, just like the tall woman had the day before.

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold on lands, father no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.”

“Arise.”

With this, Podrick had been integrated into the King's Guard and Tyrion had taken him away for measurements. Brienne had asked Bran what she was to do until the resources for reparations arrived, and he had in turn told her to assess the damage done to the armory, and see if anything needed to be replaced. And to update the Book of Brothers: to complete Jaime’s entry, and add her own. She had done so with haste.

Two weeks later, the supplies arrived in Kings Landing which was still in ruins. She, together with Tyrion, had met them at the Gate of the Gods, which was a large hole in a wall after the dragon attack, clad in her new shiny gold armor with extensive white enameling and a white cloak draped over her tall form.

She had come to stand by Tyrion’s side to discuss something, but he had asked her to stay when she moved to leave his side, it was mostly so she could act as a waypoint, of sorts, for the convoy. It was also so he could analyze her up close.

The small council had held a meeting and discussed what would come next, the reparations of the kingdom had been a unanimous agreement. They had wanted to rebuild the brothels first, but Brienne had quickly expressed her disapproval at the thought of prioritizing them over the rebuilds of the royal fleet, which clearly took precedence due to the lack of ships following the war.

The four months that followed after the arrival of the supplies were filled with Brienne overlooking some of the construction whenever she didn’t have anything else to do and performing her Lord Commander duties; whatever they ended up being, they varied from larger decisions to smaller ones.

Some days she just spent her hours in the armory, polishing and sharpening every sword; and some she spent in the White Sword Tower, either re-reading previous entries in the Book of Brothers or residing in her quarters.

She was so busy with her new duties that she did not have the time to respond to your ravens, even if she could gather the emotional strength to do so.

Five months after your separation, Bran had requested her attention, sending Tyrion to collect her.

He had found her in the armory taking inventory of the same gear she had checked the day before. When asked, she told everyone it was to ‘make sure no one stole anything’ but it was really to keep her mind occupied with something other than you who plagued her mind day in and day out, even in her slumber.

“The King wishes to speak with you, Lord Brienne.” Tyrion interrupted her almost obsessive counting, arriving when she had finished sharpening the last sword. He stood in the doorway as he watched her get up from the stool she was sitting on, put away the sword she was holding, and walk towards him.

“Of course, Lord Hand. Lead the way.”

The walk was quiet, for the most part. Brienne was content with the silence, Tyrion; not so much.

“Forgive me for being informal, Lord Commander, but; what is the matter with you?” The question staggered Brienne, her entire being stalling for one second, too stunned to move, before she continued her prior movements, resuming her stroll by the shorter man's side.

“Pardon?” She knew exactly what he was referring to. Her behavior had been strange, to say the least. Erratically counting and whetting, staring off into space, and getting lost in her own thoughts. Brienne had always been a bit unusual and turned in towards herself, but it had been even more so these last couple of months.

“Brienne. I can promise you that no one is stealing weapons from the armory during the night in peacetime. The armory which, need I remind you, is locked up with you as the key holder. So, what the hell is your issue?” Tyrion had stopped right outside the building Bran was currently in, glaring up at Brienne with furrowed brows and caring eyes.

“I-” she released an elongated sigh, “I do not wish to talk about it. What does the King need to speak to me about?” Switching the subject to the reason she was standing there with him in the first place, hoping to remove herself from the theme she wasn’t entirely comfortable conversing with Tyrion about.

The shorter man let out a sigh, admitting defeat, knowing he wasn’t getting anything out of her. “I do not know. He did not tell me.”

“Very well.” With this, Brienne pushed past the shorter man who was left standing in place, annoyed at the taller woman’s stubbornness, which seemed to be an ongoing theme nowadays.

Her white cloak flowed behind her as she navigated her way through the corridors, her steps echoing in the empty hallways.

“Lord Brienne!” Bran called her name as she entered the room he was residing in, stopping what he had been doing before she arrived, “I’m glad you’re here. I have something to ask of you.”

The blonde knight quickly kneeled before him and he just as quickly ushered her up to her feet, claiming there was no need for such formalities. Brienne didn’t quite understand why but complied either way. “Sire, what can I do for you?”

“I need you and Ser Podrick to escort a shipment from Planky Town. You will travel there by ship, collect the shipment, and bring it back. I’ve already spoken to Davos, and he has given you temporary command of one of his ships. It’s an incredibly rare material and I need my best men on it. I know it’s different from your usual duties but treat this mission the way you would any other.”

The thought process that went through Brienne's head after Bran had started speaking was: Planky Town – Dorne – you. There was a hurricane of emotions whirling around inside of her that destroyed anything in its path, and as in every hurricane, the eye was quiet, which allowed her to process the whirlwind.

She was ecstatic at the opportunity to finally visit Dorne, and maybe, if the Gods were good, cross paths with you. She was also guilty and terrified at the thought of meeting you again. Running into you after ignoring your messages for months would surely prove to be an unpleasant experience. You’d surely be angry, disappointed, and upset; all at her. But at least she would get to see you, even if it was with you staring daggers her way.

Her mind was racing, running faster than it ever had and Brienne couldn’t keep up. Until a noise ripped her out of her thoughts, permitting her to catch up to her sprinting brain. The door behind her opened and closed, signaling that someone else had entered the room. This was when she realized she had been standing still and in silence for far too long, Bran looking at her with an unreadable expression as he waited for her response.

“Yes. Of course, Your Grace. When do we depart?” Brienne remained as professional and stoic as usual, even when her mind was anything but. She had zoned out again, become lost in her own thoughts like a scared little girl getting lost in the woods with no way out.

“Tomorrow at sunrise. Be at the docks by then.”

“Yes. Anything else?”

“No. You are dismissed, Lord Brienne.” After vocalizing the command, Bran looked away from the Lord Commander and went back to his previous activity. Whatever that was hadn’t been observed by the blue-eyed knight, and she simply couldn’t be bothered to find out.

She bowed before taking her exit, passing Tyrion as she left the room. He looked at her warm-heartedly, giving her the smallest of smiles and a small nod which she didn’t reciprocate, a scowl painted on her lips.

If she wasn’t so focused on keeping the hurricane inside of her in check, and on preventing any tells to leak out of her hardened exterior onto her face, she would have given him the same back. Instead, she just kept her mind set on maintaining a straight face.

The second the heavy door closed behind her, she let the stone face fall, and an intrigued smile replaced her former frown. Her booted footsteps echoed in the barren hallways as she went back the way she came, her long white cloak floating behind her.

“Dorne, huh?”

———

You rolled up what must have been the twentieth message for Brienne, before strapping the scroll to your raven. It was a warm day in Lemonwood, as it was every day in Dorne, the Summer Sea waves hitting against the cliff side breaking the pleasant silence of the early Sunday morning.

Your raven, Bartholomew (actually named Branoc by your parents, but you thought that was a little bit boring), was sent on its way and you sat at your desk, watching the bird as it flapped its coal-black wings, carrying yet another message for your love.

The usual distant bustling noise of Planky Town had yet to begin, it was still too early but you and your mother had a shipment to meet. No rest for the traders.

Your family had since your great-great-great grandfather been a part of a large trading company, landing you as one of the wealthier families in Westeros.

The business had been passed through generations and now it had landed on your mother's lap. You were delighted to assist her for however long she needed you but the longing and yearning for Brienne’s touch was getting to be too much. You needed to get back to her.

Sighing, you put your stationary, ink, and quill away, before rising from your seated position at your desk. The armor you had worn in Winterfell had been swapped out for a more heat friendly one. Specially crafted to allow breathing and protection, the Dornish colors decorate the leather gear.

It rested on the stand in your room, the fur coat and cold-resistant steel armor gathering dust in one of your closets. You hadn’t laid eyes on either of the items since you disregarded them five months ago.

The trip here had been a long one, riding along Kings Road before turning onto Rivers Road; before finally arriving in Lannisport just west of Riverrun. Once there, you were able to hop on one of your family’s trading ships, taking you back to Planky Town.

The only comfortable way to Dorne when traveling from another kingdom, was by ship. The terrain and road through the Red Mountains were unforgiving and extremely hard to traverse and there was no way you were putting yourself through that. The ride through the barren desert after the mountains wasn’t all that inviting either.

The difference in climate had hit you right away, the searing sun of Dorne not quite the same as the biting chill of The North. Your fur coat had been discarded soon after passing The Trident and turning onto the road that led you to your destination. It rained moderately in the Riverlands, therefore, you had to take it off to insure its dryness.

When it started raining, like you had expected it to do, you had to take a break, seeking shelter under the protecting crowns of the trees. The fur coat proved quite useful as an extra blanket during the cool nights, and you pretended that it was the warm embrace of Brienne enveloping you instead of the cloak.

After you had boarded the ship in Lannisport, you were able to take off your armor for the first time in days, letting the cool breeze of the sea wash over you. The familiar salty smell of the ocean reminding you of your childhood.

The sound of knocking on your door pulled you out of your reminiscent state. Quickly pulling yourself to the present, you took large strides toward your door and opened it in a swift and controlled motion.

You were met with the weary and tired eyes of your mother, she hadn’t slept well since the passing of your father, and you couldn’t blame her, neither had you.

The sleeplessness was a combination of the grief from losing your father and the loss of Brienne's warmth. You had slept in her arms only once, but that singular time was enough to have your body aching for more affection from the tall blonde woman.

Most of this you wrote about in your messages. The messages she couldn’t even be bothered to open because if she did, she would realize you missed her so. That you would leave as soon as you weren’t needed, and that you would return to her arms as fast as humanly possible.

“Good morning, Mother.” Your voice was softer than usual, it always was around your mother nowadays, scared that any other tone would disrupt the mourning process she had begun.

Her voice was weak, frail. Throat hoarse from crying, “Good morning. Just wanted to see if you were awake.” She did this every morning. Checking up on you. She did it when you were growing up and continued doing so when you returned. It was an even more comforting action this time around, serving as a reminder that you had each other to lean on.

“I am, have you eaten?” Your mother's eating habits had been on the rocks lately, too busy with the business that she simply forgot to eat, sometimes she didn’t want to, her appetite gone. So, you asked her, every day, if she had eaten. Sometimes she said yes, sometimes she said no.

“Yes. Have you?”

You hummed in response to her question, “I ate when I woke up, I’m ready to go when you are. I’ll just need to gear up.”

Your mother nodded, “I will wait for you in the carriage.” With this, she turned around and left. Making her descent down the carpet-clad stone stairs.

After closing the door, you walked to your armor stand by your window that overlooked the Summer Sea and began removing each piece, attaching them to your form.

As you put on your leather armor, you watched as ships of many different sizes sailed past your window, floating on the sea in the searing hot Dorne sun. The sun's rays invaded your room, casting it a beautiful golden glow, and warming your skin; the pleasant smell of the sea like a comforting blanket over you.

Some of the sailing ships came from the west and some from the east. Some were sailing for trading companies, and some were sailing for travel. Their flags and sails fluttered in the warm air, hulls breaking through the water.

Eventually, all the leather gear had been secured to your form, the last part had been your sword, and with everything in place, you abandoned your room; briskly walked down the same stairs your mother had, and stepped out into the warmth of the morning.

Your mother stood by the carriage, conversing with the coachman. The sight of you approaching interrupted their conversation, the coachman opening the door to the roofed wheelhouse. Allowing your mother to enter and closing it once she had sat down inside.

The carriage did not have any windows except for some small springs, meaning you didn’t have a good view of the scenery and environment around you. So, to make sure you were able to keep a look out for potential dangers, you sat up front with the coachman.

You did not mind doing so however, he was a very interesting man with many stories to tell and you often enjoyed the chats you had with him.

The ride to Planky Town wasn’t long, your ancestors chose to settle in Lemonwood for the short travel distance, taking into account that the port was a regular visit.

On the way there you passed several travelers, and you recognized most of them as inhibitors of the other nearby settlements. You didn’t know any of them particularly well, only having met them a few times during formal events. Still being familiar with them and wanting to show civility; short pleasantries were exchanged before continuing your journey.

It didn’t take long for the lively sound of the now awake port town to reach you, the familiar sight of the Greenblood river opening its mouth in front of you, running out into the vast sea.

As every Sunday, it was reserved for shipment collection, meaning it wouldn’t be as busy as it usually was the rest of the weekdays. Despite this, there was still a large number of people going about their business of resupplying or trading.

The coachman stopped your carriage a distance away from the docks as he usually did to prevent blocking the road. He stepped off to open the door for your mother, who had stayed silent during the ride as she usually did.

You stepped off after him, watching your mother exit the wheelhouse, and walked up to her side, hand on the hilt of your sword and back straight. You were here as a traders’ child, yes, but you were also a knight.

It wasn’t often that you were asked to make your rounds down here, yet on rare occasions you were. Even when you weren’t here on such business you still wanted to keep up appearances, you knew Brienne would.

Shooting your coachman a nod and a smile, you linked your mothers' arm with your own and started trekking toward the docked ships. “Is it the usual today?” Wanting to make conversation, you asked your mother something that would pull her out of the damaging mindset she had surely found herself in.

“Yes. Meet the shipment, and see that everything is as it should, some is unloaded here to be sold, rest is shipped to other port towns to be distributed by our partners.” It was like clockwork by now, and you knew it by heart, your mother knew that you did and found it kind of you to ask. She knew why you did and appreciated the distraction from her thoughts.

A quick hum was all you gave in response, your steps taking you closer to the harbor until you reached the docked trader ship. Letting go of your mother's arm you turned to look at her, “I will stay on land and take a look around. Wait here until I come back.”

She gave a quick nod before she stepped onto the wooden vessel, you saw your mother meet the captain and he in turn gave her the inventory list for her to check off. You began turning on your heel to walk away but before you could, something caught your eye. A ship from the royal fleet.

It hadn’t been the ship in itself that stopped you, it had been the person you saw on board it. You had seen her faster than you cared to admit, almost like your eyes had been searching for her.

She was standing as robust as she had done the first time you saw her when you first arrived in Winterfell. Her hands behind her back, the wind blowing through her short blonde curls; the white fabric that draped down her figure danced in the Summer Sea wind.

She stood on the quarter deck, donned in her gold-white armor that reflected the sunlight, she looked so handsome in it, so at home. She was a White Sword, this you were aware of, but you were still nonplussed to see it, to have it verified.

You were so used to seeing her in her dark armor. The dark armor that she had worn during the duration of your stay, the armor that you had begun to associate with her. Seeing her in anything else but, was an abnormal sight.

As the ship inched closer and closer to the docks, you saw that there was detailing on her chest piece, a raven. Fitting for the three-eyed ravens' Kings Guard.

From what you could percept, Oathkeeper still sat loyally at her side, and you wondered how she had taken the news of Ser Jaime's death. You knew that they had been... relatively close, she had described their relationship as ‘an unexpected companionship,’ which was really her fancy (and courteous) way of saying ‘it was a war, he was an extra sword, we spent time together because we had to.’

Truth was, Brienne didn’t take the announcement of his passing that hard. Still too focused on the loss of you. In her mind, she had tolerated Jaime, not seeing him as a close friend, and therefore did not feel the need to mourn him.

The grief from your departure was still a fresh wound in her heart and even if she did feel the need to shed tears for him, it would be too overwhelming to do so for two people at the same time, and she refused to put you aside to lament Jaime Lannister who meant so little to her. So, it was an easy choice for her. You took precedence over everything else.

You were frozen in place, watching her as she stood tall and proud. Anger bubbled up inside of your chest, along with sadness and betrayal. Yet at the same time, you were so gleeful to see her again after such a long time, and even though you wanted nothing more than to run into her embrace; the fact that she hadn’t responded to your ravens in months stood true.

You didn’t want to see her, and you did not want to speak with her. With the feelings running amuck inside of you, you feared that if put face to face with her you’d say some things that you couldn’t take back. Hurting her even more than you had already done; ruining any chances of ever reconciliating and returning to each other's arms. For now, the best choice was to leave and blend in with the crowd before she could spot you, but it was too late.

The second her ship had docked, and she had stepped onto land, she had seen you. Her intense blue eyes locked on to yours and the moment they did, they flashed with what looked like regret and guilt.

It was too much to handle, the same blue irises that kept you up at night, that haunted your dreams, were now staring at you in such a way that made your heart twist inside of your chest.

Her mouth was hanging open the tiniest bit, eyebrows furrowed. She was surprised to see you. If there weren’t so many thoughts swirling around in your head, you were sure that you would match her expression, shocked to see her down here. Shocked to see her at all.

Your head was a battle arena, your thoughts fighting, trying to bring you back to your senses, to help you make a decision, and fast. The one who ended up coming on top was the one for before, the one telling you to leave; the one telling you to run to her getting left in the mud.

You started to walk towards the crowd, planning to disappear in the swirl of people but Brienne was taller than most people there and was able to periscope over everyone, meaning you and your Dornish leather armor stood out like a beacon on a dark night.

She started to follow you, Podrick trailing behind her trying to keep up with her broad strides. The continuous stream of people helped with keeping a distance between the three of you, but there were only so many traders and merchants, and you eventually reached a clearing, close to where your carriage was parked.

There was no hiding from her now.

The familiar voice of Brienne called your name, shivers running down your spine at hearing it for the first time in five months. You had forgotten what she sounded like, just how beautiful and deep her voice was, how the accent compliments it in the most fantastic way, working in harmony to make everything she said sound like poetry.

“Stop!” you didn’t obey her command, instead, you kept moving forward. Her steps picked up, her long legs faster than yours, and before you could process her closing in on you, her hand grabbed your wrist, pulling at it slightly causing you to abruptly stop, and turn around.

Suddenly, the only thing in your vision was her piercing eyes as they searched your face for any sign of forgiveness, love, or adoration; only finding the same stone-cold expression you had worn when your eyes met minutes ago.

She had hoped that her proximity and touch would bring back the soft expression you used to have for her. It did not. Instead, you rejected her touch. Ripping your wrist away from her grasp, almost aggressively so, almost like her touch was hot coal burning you through your protective leather gear.

She gazed down at you, a silent plea behind them for you to speak to her, to say anything. Just wanting to hear your voice. You in return stared up defiantly at her, displaying your anger by taking a step back, distancing yourself from her. She took this as a confirmation that you had become repulsed by her, just like everyone else; her weakness and pure selfishness had caused you to despise her.

In truth, the moment she had gotten close, the all too addicting scent of her had invaded your senses, making it so much harder to stay focused. The step back was to display anger, yes, but also to step away from the inebriation that was the smell of Brienne.

“Ser Brienne.” You spoke stiffly, your face full of indifference. She remained neutral, but to you, she was an open book. The way you said her name hadn’t gone unnoticed by the blonde, and you saw the flash of hurt in her eyes when you said her name. The usual affection you held for her wasn’t there anymore, and she completely understood why.

She opened her mouth to say something, getting interrupted by Podrick before she could, “It’s actually Lord Commander-” Brienne held up a hand, successfully interrupting him back, but not before you heard her new title. Lord Commander, huh?

“Ser Podrick! Do you not recognize them?” So, this was the Podrick you had heard so much about. He was shorter than you expected him to be, but maybe that was because he stood next to one of the tallest people in Westeros; she made anyone look short.

She had broken your eye contact to stare at the younger knight with her usual glare. He looked at you once again, observing you. The second it clicked; his mouth fell open in a silent ‘oh.’ He cleared his throat before mumbling a silent apology to both you and Brienne.

“Go and wait for the shipment. Leave us.” The Lord Commanders' voice was harsh, leaving no room for objections.

“Yes, My Lord.” He rushed off, leaving you and Brienne alone. She turned her head back to yours the instant Podrick disappeared out of sight into the flow of people.

“Lord Commander?” The voice that exited your mouth was incredulous. You couldn’t believe your ears. She had been appointed the highest position in the King's Guard and secured a spot on the King's Council, and you hadn’t been informed. The love of your life hadn’t told you of a major update in her life.

“Yes.”

“You were appointed Lord Commander of the King's Guard and I find out today. How long?” You almost did not want to ask. Not wanting to know how long she had been keeping this from you.

You hoped she would say 'a couple of weeks’ or ‘about a month’ because then you would understand the lack of communication. You were understanding of the task of taking on a new title and the job that came with it. If she was in the beginning phases, you would have understood. Instead, you were greeted with the opposite.

“About four months...”

“Four months-! You are unbelievable, Lord Commander.” You spat her title back at her, there was such wretchedness in your voice, such wrath. What you had feared was just a couple words ahead, the fear that you would say something that would be irreversible. There was no closing the gates of Hell now.

“Please just call me Brienne, like you used to.” Her voice had shifted into a gentler one, attempting to diffuse the situation. You scoffed at her. Was she really trying to ‘go back to the way it used to be’ after making no effort in communicating with you at all?

“I don’t know if I want to refer to you as anything anymore.” There it was. The gates had been opened, and anything coming out after this was meant to hurt. Meant to drive a knife into her stomach and twist it. Disbelief spread through your being, so irritated at her for just assuming you’d forget everything that had happened. Both of which were perceivable in your tone.

“Please, if you would just let me explain-” Desperation was evident in her voice, her entire face softening, her eyes imploring for you to please listen, to please forgive her. But you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear her excuses; not before you had said your piece.

“Explain what, huh? Explain how you couldn’t let go of your pride to send me something back? A simple ‘hello, it is I, Brienne of Tarth,’” you tried your best to copy her speaking voice, it falling short, “once a month would have sufficed because then I would have known that you were alive!”

You took a breath before continuing, keeping your voice steady, tears threatening to well up.

“Instead, I had to get that sign of life from Sansa! Do you understand how much that pained me? That you could not let go of your stubbornness for two seconds to let me know of your damn relocation to Kings Landing by yourself! Why?” Glaring up at her, you panted, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“I couldn’t bring myself to read about your life without me…” Her voice was quiet, almost like she was ashamed to admit her reasons for not responding. At her admission, your wrath eased up. You weren’t furious at her anymore, but there was still the agonizing pain of being ignored by someone who you love so much, and whom you care for so. “I know, it was unreasonable, irrational, intolerant of me. I am aware.”

She continued her explanation, “I really wanted to, read your messages, that is. Because I missed you terribly, and love you so, but it would have hurt too much. Then after I was appointed my new position and title I had so much to do, and I was so stressed, and I didn’t have the time to reply.” She was trying her best to stay strong, or at least for it to look like she was but she was moments away from a breakdown.

You kept eye contact the entire time, seeing when tears were starting to form in her eyes, and you were suddenly extremely aware of how exposed you two were. “I’m sorry.” Her last words were a whisper, barely audible, voice breaking.

She then broke eye contact, tilting her head down, fixing her gaze on the sandy ground. You glanced around you, seeing that your carriage was only a couple of feet away. It gave you the perfect escape plan.

You took her by the hand, dragging her towards your carriage with a quick ‘come with me.’ The sudden, unexpected contact made Brienne’s head snap up, meeting the back of your head with her blurry vision. She needed privacy, you couldn’t let everyone see the Lord Commander break down in public, so you had to shelter her. It also provided you with a quieter place to speak.

You asked the coachman to go make himself busy before ushering Brienne into the wheelhouse, you following suit, closing and locking the door behind you. Quickly covering all the springs in your immediate vision with its individual curtain.

The second you sat down across from her, the dam broke. She buried her face in her hands as loud sobs wrecked through her, much like the ones you had heard by the stables as you rode away.

Your anger and pain had quickly subsided when you had heard her entire reasoning, and when you saw how guilty she felt. There was no need to be mad at her, you didn’t think you could be anymore.

Relieving yourself from your sword sheathe, you pondered, unsure if you should remain seated across from her, or if you should move to sit by her side. You couldn’t comfort her all those months ago, but you’d be damned if you didn’t do it now.

Quickly maneuvering across the carriage, you took a seat next to Brienne, taking off her scabbard before throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to you, her becoming flush against your side. She hadn’t expected the abrupt intimacy, it was a welcome one, especially after feeling nothing for so many days.

Her arms flew around your waist, her face burying itself into your leather-covered chest. Your free hand came up to Brienne’s head, softly stroking her hair as the other gently caressed her upper arm. Her armor made it a little lumpy, but you did not care. Having her back in your arms after so long was an incredible feeling, and you couldn’t believe how you had made it this long without her warmth.

Her sobbing was relentless, tears flowing down her face and dropping onto your legs. Your leather tasset had gradually shifted down the side of your upper thighs in your seated position, revealing your tunic trousers underneath.

Brienne repeated the same phrase, over and over again through wails. Saying how sorry she was, how she hoped you could forgive her. You in turn answered with reassurance. Telling her that you accepted her apology, that she was forgiven.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when Brienne’s cries eventually died down, rendering the small space silent except for the occasional sniffles coming from the blonde beside you. Her head had been removed from your chest and she now sat upright. You still had your arm around her, hand resting on her armored bicep.

The hand that had been stroking her hair was now holding hers, entwined hands resting in between yours and Brienne’s thighs. Your thumb lazily drawing lines on the scarred skin.

“Are you alright?” The softness had returned to your voice, the love and tenderness had as well, and the Commander noticed. She was soothed by your question because it meant you still cared enough to check in on her. That lit a light in Brienne’s tunnel of misery; there was still something left to save, to rebuild.

“Yes. Especially now that I’m back in your arms.” She turned her head to look at you, you doing the same and offering her a soft smile which she returned. As you took in her tear-stained face and red puffy eyes, you were smacked with the remembrance of your earlier words, words that shouldn’t have been uttered.

“I’m really sorry for what I said back there. I was filled with fury, and I didn’t mean it. I always want to refer to you, dear Brienne.” Voice low to avoid disrupting the peace, your voice was gentler. A strong contrast to the cutting tone you had used outside. You brought her held hand up to your face to place a peck on the back of it, relishing in the feeling of her skin against your lips once again.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you either way.” You dropped yours and Brienne’s hands into your lap and released a sigh of relief hearing her words. Silence settled in again as you gazed into each other's eyes. The blonde's sapphire blues darted down to your lips and back up to your eyes, just like they had that night in the courtyard almost one year ago. She wanted to kiss you, and you needed her to. “You know, I really did miss you. A lot.” It was nothing more than a whisper, a breath of desire.

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too. Now shut up and kiss me, please.” Brienne giggled at your eagerness and avidity and was quick to oblige to your wish. She turned her body towards you, legs shifting to be able to face you as comfortably as possible, hand coming up to cup your cheek, head diving in fast to capture your lips, eyes falling shut before colliding.

The second her lips connected with yours, a contented and allayed moan escaped Brienne’s throat. She had longed for, craved, and missed you for so many months, all the tension and sorrow built up inside of her melting away the moment your lips touched. It was even more heavenly than she had recalled. One of your hands flew up to the side of her neck, your body shifting to copy the way she sat.

It was like you never left, lips moving together in familiarity. Brienne’s tongue swiped over your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you granted it. Her wet, strong muscle started exploring your mouth the second you parted your lips. The feeling of her tongue wrestling with yours along with the familiar taste of her, made you release a low moan; she tasted even better than you had remembered.

The taste of you, the feeling of your tongue sliding against hers, your soft whimpers as she expertly moved her lips with yours like a dance, elegant and controlled like a waltz, but passionate and heated like a tango. A dance of the love and yearning you contained for the other. All of it took over her senses, her brain going into overdrive, her mewling against your lips.

The hand that was holding on to Brienne’s broke away from the grasp, moving to find purchase in the blonde's hair. It was already disheveled from the salty ocean wind, hair slightly curled from the humidity in the air; your hand running through it wouldn’t make it worse. It wouldn’t be odd for her hair to be out of place considering the strong coast gust.

Your fingers started at the nape of her neck, slowly moving upwards until they stopped at the back, curling them in her tresses, gathering a fistful of her hair in your hand. Brienne hummed against your mouth at the feeling of your digits in her hair once again, and the hand that had been abandoned by yours grabbed onto your waist, palm gently resting on your side.

Your lips pulled apart, but you still kept the contact, foreheads leaning against the others, eyes shut as you regained your breath. “I really did miss you. I was hoping to show you just how much...” Brienne spoke between heavy breaths.

You did not miss the glint of seduction in her voice or the innuendo. During the make-out session the all too familiar heat grew between your legs and your body craved her touch, as it had for months. But right here, in a carriage in a port town when you both had responsibilities?

“Brienne...” Breathing out her name and meaning to remind her of your current area; you weren’t able to complete the rest of your sentence before she interrupted you.

“Look at me,” you removed your head from hers and opened your eyes, meeting Brienne’s that were already staring back at you, her blue irises as deep and breathtaking as the galaxy, filled with stars and planets of her own. They were truly remarkable and gorgeous; fitting for someone like her. “I have craved you for so long. I don’t know how long it will be until we meet again. Let me make it up to you. Let me erase the past five months of misery. Let me do this so we can have something to last us until we can guarantee proximity to each other. Please.”

The hand in her blonde curls transferred to her cheek, gently holding and stroking her flushed skin with your thumb. Her eyes were pleading as was her voice, wanting to remove the memories of pain and replace them with ones of pleasure; and you wanted that too.

You placed a soft kiss on her lips before nodding, “that sounds perfect. I’d love nothing more.” At your confirmation, Brienne’s lips turned up into the biggest grin much like the one she wore after your first kiss, and she was on her knees on the wooden floor shortly after; her hands resting on your legs.

“I’ve never done this before. All I know is that I want to make you feel good.” She gazed up at you as she spoke. She was insecure, as was obvious in her voice and her eyes, but also determined, not letting uncertainty scare her away. “Tell me if it feels good and what I can do to bring you maximum pleasure.”

“I will.”

The woman on her knees before you started undressing you. Starting with your boots, before wedging her hands under your leather chest cover to unstrap your tasset that was hindering access to the buckle of your trousers.

Throwing a look at the door to the carriage to make sure it was locked, you noticed that one of the springs hadn’t been covered by the sheer curtain. As you stood up to close it, Brienne’s fingers undid the metal of your pants, pulling them down at the same time as you pulled the curtain down.

You were now completely out of sight; the problem was, so was the outside world, and if your mother decided to forego your escort to make the trek back herself; she’d find you in one hell of a position.

You prayed to the old Gods and the new that your mother would stay put, or that inventory would take longer than usual so that she didn’t hear you reconnecting with your love. Sure, she knew about Brienne and the relationship you had, it was one of the first things you had talked about when you got home, but you didn’t want your mothers' first impression of the much taller knight to be her in between your legs.

Brienne’s hands grabbed onto your hips and pulled down, causing you to meet the seat with an unexpected speed, she was impatient, and you understood why. She had already spent too much time away from her mission and Podrick, and sooner or later, he would come looking for her, and would no doubt find her considering her last known position and your family’s carriage being mere feet away. Time was of the essence, and you couldn’t afford to waste any of it.

Heavy breathing came from the woman in front of you as she placed her hands back onto your knees and gently spread them, being faced with your soaked underwear. She had never seen your sex before, felt it, sure, but never seen. She hadn’t tasted you either and she was practically drooling at the thought of finally doing so.

Tentative and curious hands slowly traveled up your legs, stopping at the hem of your undergarments. Hooking her fingers inside and motions for you to elevate your hips slightly. Lifting your hips for easy discarding, she pulled them down in one motion, revealing your needy cunt to her hungry, dilated eyes.

She was if in a trance, watching with such intensity you feared her eyes would pop out of her skull. You nudged her shoulder with your knee, causing her to snap her gaze to yours. Her pupils were blown-out, darkened from lust and desire. The air was thick inside of the small space and you could practically sense her ferocity as it emanated from her person.

She looked so pretty like this on her knees for you, looking up at you with virtuous eyes. So ready and willing to serve; to satisfy your needs. Reaching out a hand, you took hold of her chin, guiding her face closer to your core, she needed a little helping hand. “You look so good right now, pretty girl. On your knees for me. So ready to do whatever I wish, hmm.”

Brienne could only offer a nod in response, your words and low, vibrating voice combined with your dominating tone. If she were standing, she was sure her knees would give out and she’d fall to the floor. But since she already was kneeling on the wooden boards, she gave out a tiny whine instead, forgetting just how much power your words had over her.

The scent of your arousal was overwhelming, your pussy radiating such heat, Brienne being able to sense it all when you had brought her face close enough to the apex of your inner thighs, and she wanted nothing more than to taste you, something she had wanted for such a long time; completely missing out on her chance before you left. She thought she had all the time in the world with you, how was she supposed to know you were leaving the same night she had intended to feast on you.

So, the fact remained: you had tasted her; she hadn’t tasted you and she was so desperate to finally know how your wet flesh would feel against her tongue. Desperate to gain familiarity with the sensation she thought she would have experienced months ago when she had planned it.

After you had eaten her out and gotten into bed together, her mind had started wondering what you’d taste like and that she’d propose to perform oral on you the next day during your midnight meeting, but then you left, and she never did find out what you tasted like.

Finally, five months later. She would finally know just how wonderful you’d taste.

“Use your tongue, my sweet girl. Don’t be afraid to use your instincts.” You stroked Brienne’s skin softly before sliding your hand to the back of her head, leg coming up to lay on her shoulder, foot resting on her back. Your other hand was placed beside you, using the seat as support.

She licked her lips, mumbling ‘what a pretty little pussy’ before finally diving in, shutting her eyes, and allowing her intuition to take over. She licked a careful stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling it slowly before closing her mouth around it, lightly sucking. Her tongue was a godsend, so strong and oh was she good at using it.

You released a soft whimper, mindful to keep quiet considering your whereabouts but still wanting to let her know just how good she was making you feel. Your head leaned against the wall behind you, but your eyes were locked on Brienne’s between your legs, moving slightly as she used her skillful mouth on you.

Your fingers grabbed at her hair, wanting to hold her in place as her tongue flicked over your clit and you refrained from pushing her closer; wanting her to do it on her own terms. You were sure that if she made you come with minimal help from you, her confidence would boost and that would exponentially heighten the chances of her giving head more often in the future, maybe even initiate it.

Even though you wanted her to learn by doing, she had requested you to tell her how to make you feel good, and that was what you intended to do.

Her arms were snaked around your thighs, hands resting where hip and leg met. She switched between sucking and licking, sometimes doing both, drawing out all kinds of noises from you. “Yeah. Just like that, baby. Just like that. You’re doing so good.” Even when she was pleasuring you, she was still submissive and in need of praise and assurance, and you were more than happy to provide all of those things for her. “Try- Try adding more pressure with your tongue.”

A vibrating sensation exited Brienne’s mouth as she moaned against your clit at hearing your praise, causing your body to jerk and you to hold back a loud groan. She wanted to be validated, to be told she was doing a good job. This only applied to the sex part of her life, however, as she couldn’t care less about what other people thought of her, well, not anymore at least; her childhood self would disagree.

The only person’s opinion she cared about besides maybe the professional opinions of her King, were yours. She wanted you to think highly and goodly of her, in all aspects of her life, be it professional, personal, or intimate, and you did. This she knew, it still felt good to hear you say it though.

Brienne’s eyes which had been screwed shut the entire time suddenly opened, looking up at you with curious eyes. She wanted to see how you’d react to all of her following ministrations, fascination, and wonder glinting in her beautiful eyes.

She took your advice and adjusted accordingly, placing her tongue flat on your clit with the pressure to go with and dragged her tongue up, making you drawl out a throaty moan. “Oh, Gods! Feels so fucking good, so fucking good.” Your words were slurred, your voice low to avoid it being heard by anyone else than Brienne, your heavy breaths and hums only growing more and more ragged as the woman betwixt your legs worked her wet muscle against you.

You’d had your share of love affairs before but that was nothing compared to this. The feeling of getting eaten out by the love of your life was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Not even the meetings you used to have as a young adult in the local bathhouses felt as good as this did.

Brienne was a beginner but a very quick learner, and she knew exactly how to pleasure you because she knew you and your body, playing it masterfully, playing it like an instrument; like she hadn’t done anything else.

She was devoted to your pleasure, devoted to worshipping you and your pussy with her tongue. Nothing else mattered in this specific moment, only the feeling of your legs shuttering, your moany whimpers, and your fingers twisting in her hair did.

The sounds inside the wheelhouse were right out of a brothel, moans mixed with the wet noises coming from Brienne as she used her mouth on you. She murmured against your clit, a whisper mostly to herself, but you had heard it too, “You taste so fucking good...” Her words combined with the intense eye contact made your head spin, your insides turning in the most pleasant way.

Every stroke, lick, kiss, and suck from the blonde brought you closer to the edge of climax, the familiar warmth pooling in your stomach, legs twitching and hips bucking with every ripple of pure bliss that went through your body. The release was barreling towards you like a wild buck and you were so ready for the collision, ready to get sent into an endless vortex of pleasure.

During the five months that you and Brienne had been apart, more and more tension began to build up inside of you, a knot forming in your stomach. You often found yourself thinking of that morning in the baths or the night before, and it never failed to make you a throbbing mess. You never found the time to rid yourself of it, so it just continued to grow, the knot only getting tighter.

Months' worth of pent-up tension releasing would equal in an orgasm the size of a tsunami washing over you and you were made aware of this fact as the band inside of you tightened, and tightened, until it eventually snapped, untying the knot at the same time.

Waves upon waves of ecstasy poured over you as your body convulsed with pleasure. Your back was arching, hips thrashing as you rode Brienne’s face to drag out your orgasm. Her hands that had been resting in the space between thigh and hip pushed down to keep you steadier, but still allowing you to grind against her mouth.

The hand in the blonde hair loosened as you came down from your peak, stroking her messy curls instead, hoping to smooth down the mess you had surely made of her locks. Brienne had removed her head from your sex, drawing languid circles with her fingers on your skin. Gorgeous blue eyes gazing up at you with awe as they watched your breathing grow steady.

The Lord Commander leaned back on her heels, your hand sliding off her head as she moved out of your reach, removing herself from your legs, sloping to grab your clothes. Her chin was covered in your juices, and you made a mental note to get that cleaned up before you left the carriage.

She grabbed your ruined undergarments and reached out a hand to give them to you where you sat, the hand that had been placed flat on the wood beside you the entire session was brought up to push her hand away, “they’re already soaked, you might as well use them to wipe your chin.” A breathless chuckle passed your lips as you spoke, Brienne looking at you comically.

She muttered a quick ‘sorry’ before using a dry part of the cloth to dry her chin, removing any trace of your activities. She reached out a hand with them again and this time you accepted them, putting them on and wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of your wet and cold underwear, luckily you were heading home as soon as your mother was finished, and you could change.

Your trousers were handed to you shortly after to be put on and buckled, as well as your tasset, and finally your boots.

“Come here.” Brienne did as she was told and shuffled close to you, kneeling down at your side so you were at eye level. “My beautiful girl,” bringing a hand up to her cheek, you traced her skin with your fingers, inching closer to her face to give her a kiss.

It was a gentle one, soft and tender, and you could sense the taste of you on her lips. “I love you.” It was a whisper against her lips, a promise for now and the future until you could tell her every day.

“I love you, too. I do not like the idea that we must leave each other once again,” Brienne let out a sad sigh and turned her head away from you to stare at the carriage door. You were not entirely happy with the situation either but there was nothing to be done until you were no longer needed. “Come with me.”

Your eyes widened at her words. Had you heard her correctly? “W- What?” Shock was painted across your features, your voice trying to remain steady, but you were too taken aback to bother with that, slightly shaking with perplexity seeping through.

She turned her head to look at you once again, her expression deadly serious. She wasn’t jesting or posing any what-ifs. “Come with me to Kings Landing. I will ask for King Bran’s attention and request for him to recruit you into the King's Guard. We need more knights, and I know you would be the perfect fit.” This was wishful thinking. The Kings Guard?

Quickly exhaling and inhaling, your face furrowed together in empathy, you too shared her want to travel to Kings Landing and spend all eternity by her side until death released you from your vows, but your mother needed you. “Brienne, I-”

“Yes. I know. Your mother. But, please, just. Just consider it.” Her eyes and words were begging, her eyebrows raised in hope, wishing that you’d say yes; that you’d consider it.

“I will consider it.” The smile that spread on your Commander's lips was infectious, causing you to do the same. Her eyes lit up like stars in the night sky, twinkling just the same. They really were as deep and vast as the galaxy, holding just as many uncharted and unexplored areas.

A knocking on the door caused you and Brienne to snap out of your staring competition, instinctively putting distance between each other, you shooting over to the other side and retrieving your scabbard, the woman across from you doing the same with hers.

The muffled voice of the coachman came from the outside, signaling that you had been in there for far too long, “Ser! I think your mother is all finished and ready to leave. Is everything alright in there?” You took a quick look at Brienne, her curls strewn across her forehead, and you motioned for her to comb her fingers through her locks to tidy it up a little.

“Yes, everything is quite alright. We are finished and are coming out. Thank you!” You and Brienne snorted at you using ‘finished’ considering you did just that, you were acting a little immature, laughing at such a thing; but you felt like young adults sneaking around and that earned a tiny bit of immaturity.

The woman sharing your space looked at you questionably, a silent query asking ‘does my hair look okay?’ you nodding as an answer.

Quickly pulling aside all the curtains inside the wheelhouse to let the light in, you gave Brienne one last long kiss before opening the door and stepping out into the hot Dorne sun. Your coachman stood outside, eyeing you both, obviously wondering what had taken so long but decided not to ask.

“Walk with me?” Turning your head to look up at her, Brienne only nodded, letting you take the first step and her following you with steps to match your stride. She often did this when you walked together, coordinating her pace with yours so she wouldn’t race ahead and you not being able to keep up. It was a slight adjustment, but a very thoughtful one.

When you approached the water-bound vessel your mother was on, she wore the biggest grin as she looked from you to Brienne, her expression a drastic change from the melancholic mood she had adopted as her default since your father passed.

It was unnerving seeing such a display of teeth after only seeing a frown for so long, but you assumed she recognized the taller woman beside you based on your very detailed explanations of her appearance.

Your mother stepped off the ship, the captain she had spoken to earlier barking orders to his men to ready the ship so they could transport the rest of the wares as she reached land.

Brienne had stopped her walk, the same as you, still by your side a couple of feet away from your mother. Close enough that you could hear each other over the cacophony of people, but far enough that your mother wouldn’t be able to tell what you had been doing.

“Brienne, this is my mother. Mother, this is Lord Commander Brienne.” Your mother had her head slightly cocked to the side, a caring and loving look on her face as you introduced them to each other.

The situation in which you had told your parents about Brienne had been completely unplanned. It had been on a hot night shortly after your arrival by your father's bedside as he asked you about Winterfell.

It had only really been a simple question of what your obligations had been, however, the second you had mentioned Brienne’s name, your mother grew intrigued, wanting to probe and prod after hearing the tone and manner of words you used when speaking about the then Ser.

Her clever questions and your oblivious answers caused you to reveal more than you had intended to, and suddenly your parents knew all about the nature of your relationship.

“M’Lady.” Your knightly blonde stayed as formal as always to leave a good first impression. Giving your mother a more drawn-out nod, she left her head tilted down longer than she usually did, deciding to be more casual in her greeting considering the fact that it was your parent.

“So, you’re Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. I’ve heard so much about you.” Brienne took a panicked glance at you, hoping you hadn’t spoken about the five months of errors on her end that would surely not be appreciated by your mother. You only gave her a reassuring smile back.

“Just Brienne is fine, and only good things, I hope.” The worry in her voice was obvious to you, it goes unnoticed by your mother. Brienne was good at hiding her true reactions to things when the situation called for it, and this was definitively one of those situations.

“Brienne it is. Positive things only, my dear. The joy you have brought my child is unmeasurable, and I am so grateful.” A goofy smile spread on the blonde woman's lips, a combination of relief and glee at learning that you had abstained from telling your mother about her shortcomings, if she did know; Brienne was sure your mother wouldn’t be as friendly as she currently was towards her.

“They have brought me the same amount, M’Lady. Your child is truly exceptional, never met anyone quite like them.” Brienne’s smile changed into a sincere one as she spoke, her voice filled with warmth. Seeing them interact so effortlessly made you all giddy, staring at the tall Commander beside you with a lovestruck expression.

“Why don’t you come back to Lemonwood with us, Brienne. Have supper with us, maybe spend a few nights at our residence, we’d love to host you.” This was really an excuse for your mother to spend time with your knight, to get to know the person her child had fallen madly in love with.

If your father were still alive, you were sure he would sit right beside your mother as they asked Brienne question after question. The image in your mind made you smile fondly. Your father really would have loved to meet her, they would find that their opinions matched on many different matters.

“That sounds very pleasant, and I would love to accept but I am afraid I am unable to. I need to get back to Kings Landing.” The twinge of sadness in her words did not stay hidden from either you or your mother. The reminder that time was not on your side bared itself once again, and no number of prayers could change the fact that you and Brienne had to part.

“Yes, of course. How unfortunate. Perhaps another time?” Your mother did not back down, she laid out a long-standing offer, meaning that sooner or later, Brienne would sit at her dinner table, and she’d be able to learn all about the mysterious woman before her.

“I’d love to take you up on that offer. Perhaps if I am dispatched to Dorne for a longer period of time.” You could tell that Brienne was being polite, yet she seemed genuine in her words. The moment she’d set foot inside the walls of your home, you were sure she would come to regret taking your mother up on the offer. She liked her privacy, and your mother liked prodding. Them together was not a feasible pairing.

“Of course, just send a raven ahead of time so we can prepare, other than that you are always welcome to our home. It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Brienne.” She liked the pretty knight, you could tell. You could also tell that she was itching to get on the road, ready to talk your ear off and tease you about your behavior around the blonde.

It was all with good intentions, something she did when you were young and had an infatuation with someone.

“You too, M’Lady.”

“Safe travels.” She spoke her final words to Brienne before shifting her attention to you, “I will give you two a moment, come find me when you’re done.” With this, she walked back to the still-docked ship she had previously been on, spectating as the crewmen scattered around on deck to get everything ready for departure.

You turned to look at Brienne, her doing the same, a crestfallen expression gracing her features. Your face matching hers, “I sent Bartholomew off with another message this morning. Reply this time, please.”

“Bartholomew?” Even though she was incredibly disheartened, an amused and quizzical look took over her face.

“Yes. One of our message ravens. His real name is Branoc, but I named him Bartholomew the Raven the First. It was whimsical to me.” You lovingly smiled at Brienne, and she reciprocated, smiling with just as much adoration back.

She chuckled slightly, “I see. I will read yours and send one back with Bartholomew the Raven the First. I swear, no more miscommunication.” Her words were true, no more silence from her end, no more misery.

“Good. Well, off you go.” Tears were starting to well up in your eyes, you didn’t want to let her go, did not want to watch her leave but you were afraid there was no other choice. You could see Podrick in the distance behind Brienne, waiting for her to board the ship so they could return back.

“I will be looking forward to hearing your decision when you have given thought to my offer. I love you. Please come back to me soon.” She was dragging this out, wanting your goodbye to last as long as possible so your time wouldn’t be cut short so soon.

“I will try. I love you.” Gazing up into her eyes, you took her hands in yours, an action overlooked by the mass amount of people around you. “Now go. Ser Podrick is waiting for you.”

“Farewell, for now, Ser.” Squeezing your hands, Brienne let go of them and straightened her back, hand resting on its usual place on the hilt of her sword; looking down at you with an over-enthusiastically assertive face, making you giggle a tiny bit.

“Farewell for now, Lord Commander.” One long glance was exchanged before Brienne turned on her heels and started marching over to where Podrick was standing. The last you saw of her tall figure was her boarding the ship and her disappearing below deck.

Walking up to your mother, you grabbed her attention by tapping her gently on the shoulder, her turning around to face you. “I will allow two questions on the ride back, and that is it.” Setting these boundaries with your mother rarely worked, but this time you were serious, dead set on maintaining some seclusion.

“Two questions are all I’ll need.”

———

Two weeks had passed since the events in Planky Town, and you had let it slip to your mother that Brienne had proposed to speak to the King on your behalf. A couple days after she had learned this, she miraculously didn’t need your services anymore, leaving you free to do whatever you wished.

The first thing you did was send a raven to Brienne, telling her that you reflected on her proposal, that you accept, and to expect you the following week.

Directly after this, you had traveled to Sunspear. Letting Prince Martell know that you would no longer be able to assist in whatever he needed. Considering you never swore your services to him and that it was purely a means to keep the ‘protect the innocents’ part of your knightly oath going; the only thing he could do was to thank you for your help and to let you leave.

Packing whatever you needed for your trip, you said your goodbyes to your mother and later that day, you were on a ship heading for Kings Landing. It was another one of your family’s ones, and considering they were already heading up north, they allowed you to ride along in exchange for your assistance in carrying the goods, which you gladly assisted with.

That all led to you standing at the dock of Kings Landing where the tall woman stood and awaited you. Walking up to her, you took a glance around before looking up at her with feigned confusion. “Excuse me, I’m supposed to meet Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. Do you know where I could find her?”

Brienne smiled playfully, lightly shoving your shoulder, causing you to grin up at her. “You’re not funny, you know?”

“That smile on your face would suggest otherwise.” You were teasing her; she knew you were. You wanted to engage in small banter before diving right into serious King’s Guard business, but Brienne was eager for you to get integrated and fitted so she could take you to her private quarters and cuddle you.

“We can continue this later. Let’s go see the King. He’s looking forward to meeting you.” Brienne began leisurely trekking, you following after her. The sun reflected so perfectly in her gold plates as she journeyed towards the large gate, eventually traveling under it.

You found yourself in shadows for a brief period of time before the light hit your face as you emerged from the dark, stepping out into Fishmonger’s Square.

From there you walked straight until you took a right, walking down The Hook and you couldn’t do much but gape at the Red Keep where it stood, large and marvelous, fit for a King of the Six Kingdoms. As you passed through the curved street, you and Brienne kept up a mindless conversation, not talking about anything important, really, just chatting, enjoying each other’s company.

After finally, reaching the end of The Hook, you were greeted with a set of stairs, going up Aegon’s High Hill. You looked to Brienne with annoyed exhaustion, and she laughed, stating that ‘the leg muscles you get from this makes it worth it, I promise.’ She was being goofy, trying to change your expression into one less irritated, and it worked; she always knew how to make you smile like a fool.

She motioned for you to go first, and you did, knowing that if you lost balance or fell, Brienne would be there to catch you. She, on the other hand, wanted you to go first so she could be bestowed the privilege of having your ass as her view; she would never admit that though.

About halfway up, the knight behind you asked if you wanted to take a break, but you declined, knowing that you were almost there. Give or take a few dozen steps. Brienne shrugged, staying close to your back in case your legs gave out. Even her thighs were burning.

Even though you walked a few steps above her, you still only reached Brienne’s forehead and she found it amusing that someone so short could have so much love, well, you were short to her; everyone was short to her.

You ascended the very last stairstep, the Red Keep towering and looming above you. It was even more intimidating and glorious up close, and you had to crane your neck to even get remotely close to the peak of it. You had to stop yourself from releasing a ‘whoa’ but settled with subtle gawking instead; subtle being eyes and mouth wide open.

Brienne passed your still-standing person, giggling at your amazement, “come on, you silly girl. You can revel in the spectacularism later.” You shook yourself out of your current state when hearing her fond tone, coming to join your blonde Commander by the large doors.

Brienne entered the large building, making sure you were behind her, allowing you to step up to her side. The insides of the building were equally as grand as the outside, a home fit for a King, you thought. You refrained from commenting on the vision that was the Red Keep, but you were fairly certain your knight already knew what you were thinking by the awestruck countenance you had.

When you entered the Throne Room, your former face had been switched to a solemn one, showing that you were a very serious knight who hadn’t been staring at the building you were currently in open-mouthed.

There were two other people in the large space besides you and Brienne. A much shorter man with curly hair, and the King, who sat on his throne which had been moved down from its previous placement so that Bran could lift himself into it.

Brienne leaned down to your ear, talking to you in a hushed tone, “That’s King Brandon Stark, which I assume you know. And the bloke next to him is Lord Hand Tyrion Lannister.” You only hummed in response as she rose to her full height once again.

Tyrion had noticed the blonde's change in mood the second she had returned from Dorne. No longer staring off into nothingness and getting lost in her thoughts. No longer hiding away and sharpening every sword known to man or obsessively counting in the armory.

He had been wondering what the cause for this sudden change in her behavior was, but now that he saw the way she looked at you, the way her eyes lit up as she spoke, and how you acted the same towards her; he drew his own conclusions. He was sure to tease her about this at a later date.

Brienne and you stopped before the King, kneeling in front of him. He called you both up to stand straight, the Lord Commander marching up to stand by her King's side, you standing firmly in place.

“Your Grace.” You kept your eyes fixated on Bran, very aware of Brienne’s eyes on you. You could see her in the corner of your eye, she looked so exalted and heroic standing next to the King in her gold armor and white cloak.

“Lord Brienne speaks very highly of you. She has stated very clearly that she would fight by your side and that she trusts you with her life.” You had to hold back a grin at his words, she spoke just as highly of you as you did of her, “I have heard of your accomplishments on the battlefield, and I must say that I am impressed.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

You had spent the journey here memorizing the oath you had to swear. It was a mighty long one, but it had eventually stuck, and you were sure it would never unstick. You didn’t quite know when you were supposed to swear it, hoping Brienne would give you some sort of signal for when it was time.

Luckily, there was no need for that, King Bran gave you his own very clear instructions with his words, “I would be a fool to not have you in my Kings Guard, especially when my own Lord Commander was essentially bragging about your skills.” At this, Brienne’s head slumped down to hide a smile that crept up on her lush lips, she was a little bit embarrassed at him exposing her. Yet at the same time she was grateful for it because now you knew just how much she wanted you here with her unless any of her other words hadn’t been enough. “Kneel.”

Brienne looked at you with enthusiasm, her pride for you shining brightly in the dimly lit room. She observed as you got down onto your knee once again, barely able to contain her large grin. The corners of her lips twitched, and she was sure that if either of the men beside her were to see it; they would question the reason why she actually wanted you here. She could want you here for two reasons, no? One selfish, one for the good of the kingdom.

Your sword skills matched hers, and to have you next to her would put her so much more at ease. She was well aware that she was an exceptional sword fighter, but to have two with the same skill was calming, knowing that you would both go through hell and high water to get back to the other alive.

Having such a drive force can be lifesaving in dire and lethal situations, especially when your job is to protect the King; riots hadn’t been uncommon in the past, but hopefully, there would be none now that there was new and better leadership.

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and to give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, mother no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.”

What you didn’t seem to notice even though you kept your eyes fixed on Bran, was his slight eyebrow quirk at the fact that you chose to replace father with mother, but wife remained, just as it had with Brienne’s oath.

“Arise.”

Brienne practically beamed at you as you got up from your knee, almost overzealously volunteering to take you to your fitting when Bran and Tyrion started discussing it. The shorter one of the two stared at her with an astute look, mouthing ‘real smooth, Lord Brienne,’ a teasing smile on his face.

The tall blonde shot him one of her signature glares in return, staring at him pointedly and he knew he was going to have fun messing with her about this. Maybe he’ll ask her if she’s still a virgin, maybe her answer had changed since the last time he asked. He was sure it had, but he wanted to hear her say it.

“Your Grace. I will take our newest recruit for measurements, then show them their quarters. Leave it to me.” Bran didn’t think much of Brienne’s willingness, he thought her to be a strange character sometimes and this was one of those times. He just simply nodded to show that she was sanctioned to do just that.

“Lord Commander. Ser. You are both dismissed.” Brienne trotted over to your side, ready to lead you away from the large room.

“Yes. Your Grace.” Speaking unanimously, you and the tall blonde bowed before taking your exit. Side by side, you roamed the regal halls of the Red Keep, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring in wonderment again, nearing the exit of said building.

Brienne found your extreme fascination and wonder endearing, her heart fluttering at your childlike enthusiasm and admiration, her insides all warm, her stomach filling with butterflies as she watched your wonderstruck face.

The descent of the stairs was much more forgiving than the ascent and you had found yourself walking down The Kings Road that winded through Kings Landing, and as you walked, Brienne explained to you that you had two stops to make, one at the armorer for measurements for your new plates and gambeson, and a second at the tailor, for new tunics and trousers, but also for your long white cloak.

She spoke to you the entire time about what she had been up to the five months you were apart, stating that it was too much to be written on paper, as you navigated the streets of Kings Landing to make your errands.

It all went smoothly and eventually, Brienne had taken you to the White Sword Tower, where your chambers were located. “I managed to get your room next to mine, so we can easily sneak in between if we wish.” Her voice was hushed and her tone mischievous as she showed you her quarters, and then yours. You smiled at her words; she hadn’t changed one bit.

“Come into mine. I wish to show you something.” Suddenly her voice and face turned candid, opening the door to her room and allowing you to walk in before her, closing it after entering the quarters herself.

She immediately walked up to her hearth, starting a warming and crackling fire, and then moved to the armor stand in her room, beginning the removal process of each piece of her golden plates.

You couldn’t help but look at the back of her head with a puzzled expression. It was getting close to sunset, but not close enough to warrant Brienne unstrapping her armor. She usually kept it on until bedtime, and it was still light outside.

Continuing her process, she spoke to you, voice soft and tender, “Go look in that book over there.” She twitched her head quickly, motioning you in the direction she wanted you to go.

Walking over to her bed table, your eyes landed on a book. Brienne didn’t seem like the type of person who would be interested in dramatic literature. “The book isn’t of importance; I just picked a random one. Look inside.”

You looked back at Brienne, only having her gambeson left to remove, but had stopped for a second to turn her head to look at you, offering an encouraging smile. Shifting your gaze back to the book, you picked it up and opened the worn-out leather cover. The paper inside seemed to stare back at you with accusing eyes.

It was tear-stained, obvious marks on the spots the Lord Commander’s tears had landed. You were almost certain about what the parchment was, your speculations were only confirmed when you removed it from the pages and unfolded it; your handwriting from five months ago glaring at you.

“You kept it?” This was surely a painful memory for Brienne, why she opted to keep it you did not know. The evidence of her evening cries was clear on the slightly ripped note; she must’ve read this every single day.

“Yes.” She was finally finished with her armor and gambeson and moved to join you by her bed. “I needed to have something of yours, and this was all I had.” She stopped in front of you, gently taking the book and letter from your hands, placing them back on the bed table before grabbing hold of your hands. “I read it every single night, desperately trying to remember your voice. But I- I couldn’t.”

Her gaze shifted from yours to the floor, and you were hit with a surge of woe seeing her evade your eyes. You did not know why she felt the need to do so. Was she ashamed that she had forgotten your voice? Or maybe embarrassed admitting that she read your letter every night even if it reminded her of the dark winter evening by the stables? You did not know, and you didn’t want to ask, not now at least.

“Darling,” one of your hands tangled itself out of Brienne’s to softly lift her chin up, so you could look into her magnificent irises. “I forgot your voice too. No matter, though. We’ll be able to hear each other's voice every day from now on.” She smiled down at you with sad eyes, an unasked question in the air that you both wanted to ask, the taller woman being the actual one to ask it.

“Will you let me hold you, please? I wish to hold you.” It was almost like she was shy, acting like it was the beginning stage of your relationship once again, and in a way it kind of was. You were in need of her warmth, her closeness, and the strong enveloping of her large and long arms. For her to hold you tight and never let go, desperate to be back in her embrace once again.

You responded by kissing her tenderly on her lips, removing your hand from her chin, and using the one still in her hand to drag her down onto the bed with you. Both you and Brienne were still fully clothed, an error that needed to be resolved; you wanted to feel her hot skin against yours once again like you had done so many moons ago. “I want to feel your bare flesh against mine, please.”

Brienne watched you lovingly and fondly, nodded, and started to remove her clothing, stripping down to her undergarments. It was nothing sexual, just the need to feel the entirety of her against you; an animalistic urge to feel a sense of security. You followed suit, undressing with haste, folding up your clothes, and placing them next to hers at the foot of the bed.

Your blonde knight in shining armor crawled under the covers and laid down on her side, holding the fur up for you so you could do the same. Lifting up the same arm that had been holding the cover as you did.

She wasted no time in slinging the same limb around you when you had laid down next to her, pulling you close to her, your back against her front. Her face nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent.

Her strong musk and arms encompassed you, the faint and familiar smell of fresh grass and light sweat overwhelming your senses once again. You were completely intoxicated by her proximity, you couldn’t think, your mind was scrambled, heart racing.

She started pressing soft kisses to your skin, supple lips ghosting over your neck and shoulder, making you release a sigh. Brienne whispered against your skin, her breath slightly tickling you. “Tell me what you did in Dorne during the five months we were apart. Catch me up, please.” You were more than happy to.

As you started to recount the events that had occurred over the past five months, Brienne’s hold around you tightened, attempting to have you even closer to her which at this point was impossible. There was barely any space left between you, not even a small air pocket.

Your legs were tangled with her incredibly long ones, fingers drawing mindless circles on her arm as you told her about your journey to Dorne, your father’s passing, and your family’s trader business.

Brienne hummed every once in a while, to let you know that she was listening, her arm around you strong like cement. As she pressed a barely felt but burning kiss to the skin behind your ear, you realized that you were finally back where you were always meant to be.

In Brienne’s arms.

–––

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blingblong55 · 8 months

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Peace- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

A/N: Not much dialogue but I hope you enjoy it:)

GN!Reader, fluff

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Simon knew best, that a man like him doesn't deserve a life with you. Your life is so calm and steady and if he were to walk into it, nothing would be blissful. The dark empty hallway that adorned his soul was met with you, a warm candlelight, calling his name. Come home it said to him and that is what he did. Danger was his closest friend and it even slept on the same pillow as he did, he could never offer you more than danger, for that he did not afford. It all started with a lilac flower that you handed to him on one of his usual gloomy days.

What scared him the most was not death for he had faced it multiple times rather his fear was you, the calm waves after the storm. Skies are clear, brave words said, a bouquet in his calloused hands, shaky words, night terrors and you, that is what he now has. Many times he found himself roaming town alone, wondering if it would be enough if he could never give you peace or all the love this world had to offer. No sanity on his part but maybe here and there he could be sane for you. Tears, whispers, the little kisses you give him, warm hugs and the sacrifices you'd make for him. Peace, a word for those who aren't him.

Many times, during storms or the nights his PTSD got the best of him, That's when he understood you didn't want peace, you wanted the storm, hail, thunder, snow and heavy waves that came with him. Because life is boring without danger, risk and adrenaline. Life is more than peace and warm hugs, for him life is you, all of you. The doubts and the laughs, silly arguments and the talks after said arguments. Honour to be the man you marry, honour to be the one who runs into a gunfight with a knife and comes out victorious, to be a soldier and your lover, that is his life.

Peace, after the argument, the silence when you finally understand the other, the family he made with your family, it's enough.

"R/N," he tries to stop you.

"It's rainy today, let's go out!"

Silly dances, the fall to the muddy ground, the kiss on the bruise he gave you. That is peace even if thunder falls. It's enough. You handed him sunshine and in return held storms in your soft and delicate hands. You built a fire to keep his soaked clothes warm, kissed his scars, all of them and with each one whispered how much you love him. The shaky cry he gave you after, like a mother to his child, is the hug you gifted him. "I miss them, I miss them so much, R/N."

"I know, Simon." A kiss on the top of his head, "Please don't leave me." he requested to which you held him closer. "I could never leave you, my dear," you respond. If he falls, you fall too. Never one without the other, that is the silent promise you gave the other months and years ago. There will always be unspoken words said in the relationship but it's the presence, the actions that say the words neither of you dare to say.

He will never be one to believe in god or any mystical beliefs, but you to him are the greatest divine, the one to bless his brittle heart.

"And now, I pronounce you, spouses for life." His friend from the military, John Price said. He looked into your eyes, his once sad eyes filled with the life you gave, teary but with life, one thing he can brag to his best mate, the Scottish man who was too persistent, the reason you and him now walk down the aisle together.

He was the hunter for so long in his life, running toward the goal, of living life and dying. Now the only goal he has is to grow old with the one who doesn't see right through him. Anyone will walk away but you stayed and kissed all the scars, and bruises and listened through his mistakes. The unspoken words that turned into three hand squeezes, an 'I love you.' a little thing you two made when in public. The once weak love he could offer is now the strongest love the world will ever have. As long as you are next to him, rain or shine, he is a lover, protector, soldier and most importantly, the vulnerable being that you hold close to your chest every night. A world of beauty, one he never had the privilege to afford now in the palm of his hands. It truly is a wonderful life for Simon Riley.

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canonicallyobserving911 · 1 month

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Buck & Eddie: Buck died for three minutes and seventeen seconds!

In 6x12, Eddie told Buck, “You died, Buck!” but Maddie told him, “Buck, you died” and Bobby said the same thing in 6x15 during Buck’s performance review (related post linked here).

Was Buck dying a huge deal? YES! And apparently, it affected everyone but Buck. Eddie cried in Buck’s hospital room, Chris asked him to come back, Maddie cried, Bobby kept vigil by Buck’s bedside with his rosary beads, Athena knew the effect his death would have on her husband because he sees Buck as a son and she told him to “Wake up damn it”. Chimney cried, Hen did too and May was worried about the effect Buck’s death would have on Bobby just like Athena was worried. Chimney told Albert they had to take Margaret out because she was hysterical but the audience didn’t see her cry like we did everyone in Buck’s found family and I believe that was on purpose (post linked here).

Now, onto 7x1 where Buck told Eddie that he broke up with Natalia because all she talked about was death and he’s not sure why he thought dating her was a good idea (neither did the audience but ok, that was the decision that was made so there’s nothing that can be done about it). TM (showrunner) said in a recent interview, Buck was tired of talking about his "death" and he’s ready to find happiness. If that’s true, then great but if he’s really moved on from it, why didn’t anyone including Eddie, who knows Buck to his core (RG's words) see the growth? Reminder, Eddie's response to Buck's breakup was, "Welcome back to the land of the living, Buck. You were truly missed."

The timeline for last night’s episode was so messed up that it was hard to make heads or tails of anything. Bobby initially bought their cruise tickets in 5x18 but their trip got postponed at the end of 6x1 since Athena's father had a stroke. It begs the question did those tickets get refunded and he purchased new ones because Athena told Frank, two months before they left on their cruise, which happened a year after the bridge collapse 🤷🏽‍♀️that Bobby bought the tickets a week ago, so who knows what time period it is in this realm or wherever they’re in right now. The way things played out, dare I say it but it kind of seems like they’re all still living in Buck’s coma dream but hey, maybe it’s being done on purpose.

Back to the regularly scheduled program…

Reminder, Buck died! And according to Eddie, he was dead for three minutes and seventeen seconds. He was literally dead and even though Chimney worked on Buck for three minutes, he couldn’t restart Buck’s heart, only Eddie could and the last seventeen seconds was all him!

These things happened and they’re important but for some reason, Buck’s death along with everything else that happened to him in season 6 are being treated like they didn’t happen or as if they were of no consequence. In 6x12, Dr. Salazar told Buck that people who have near death experiences either go back to their lives like nothing’s changed or they make a drastic change and quit their jobs, divorce their spouses or they go to Italy.

Well… Buck’s done NEITHER of those things since he’s still doing the same job and he didn’t do anything drastic like move out of the loft or something, just anything other than saying and proclaiming he's happy now all of a sudden. Him breaking up with Natalia wasn’t drastic since he broke up with Taylor in season 5. It would have been different if it had been his first time choosing something for himself but it wasn't.

IMO, the way his death is being glossed over makes it seem like there’s something else that could happen with Buck after 7x6 airs. Reminder, there will be a mini hiatus just like there was between 6x12 and 6x13 and everyone should remember the drastic change that took place then. Buddie and the Buckley-Diaz family were prominent more than any other ship in that episode. Now, be clear, I’m not saying Buck will have a breakdown (even though he's overdue to have one and him crying over Eddie being shot is not the same thing) but I will say he’s headed for a storm. Also, his life is paralleling Eddie’s after the shooting and to me it seems off because Buck’s happy but no one knows why or how he got there. It appears he’s hiding how he truly feels the same way Eddie did before he started panicking followed by his breakdown. Additionally, it appears Buck’s continuing to parallel Athena’s arc for this season too and if he is then, his fear or whatever has him “terrified” will come into play later in the season (post about Bathena and Buddie parallels linked here).

I fully understand the show only has so much “real estate” per episode, as TM described it but in season 6 (which I know should be a distant memory by now for a lot of reasons), the audience only SAW Buck start things but there wasn’t any resolution to any of them. THEY WERE ALL UNFINISHED BY THE END OF 6X18.

In 6x1, he wanted to be interim captain but that storyline fell off a cliff and wasn’t revisited.

In 6x2, he wanted to be happy and apparently, according to OS and TM, this season he’ll be going after the things that make him happy but NO ONE BUT BUCK knows what those things are.

In 6x4, he thought long and hard about being Connor’s sperm donor but there were two things he said that were left unfinished and unresolved.

When he was at Hen’s house, he told her he didn’t want to turn them down but he never said why.

At the end of the episode, he told Connor and Kameron he didn’t know what he wanted (I still think that was a lie but I digress) but he was willing to give them what they wanted.

The audience doesn’t know why Buck didn’t want to turn them down and if he would have said why, there wouldn't be an issue. Also, he never explained what he wants but I suppose the audience is just supposed to forget all about those two important factors and move on the way Buck has. As a viewer, wanting answers to close main characters' storylines is a fair request since we’ve all seen Buck repeat the same mistakes and remain on the hamster wheel (OS’s words) for the last three years with no resolution.

In 6x7, he was adamant about donating even though the universe kept screaming at him not to do it and it went so far as to stop his Jeep on the street but he ran there anyway. Also, only him and Eddie touched the cursed bracelet during that episode but nothing came of that either.

In 6x9, he told the team he was the creator of new life and he had a onesie on the nightstand with an LAFD logo on it but that too went absolutely nowhere (posts linked here and here).

In 6x10, he died! But also, before he did, he talked a lot about family but no one knows if he wants his own family or if he’s happy with his biological or found or both.

In 6x11, he was in a coma for most of the episode where it was all about him (he was making things about himself again like everyone has told him he does) but when he woke up, he told Bobby there was one thing he couldn’t fix while he was in it but since he didn’t say it, NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THAT IS.

In 6x12, when Eddie asked him if could ask him how he was, Buck replied, “Honestly Eddie… I don’t know”; well, since he didn't say it, neither does the audience. Also, he went to Maddie’s and told her about his coma dream but the only part the audience heard was that it was never nighttime and the first thing he does when he wakes up is text Bobby.

In 6x13, he knew how to do math and his life appeared to be going where he wanted it to but then, 6x14 happened and his math powers were gone.

In 6x15, aside from meeting the DeAtH dOuLA and telling her about his dream (which the audience didn’t hear then either), he told Eddie while they were in the cemetery, “The truth is… I am different but I feel like I have to be the same old Buck, mostly for the sake of everyone else”. Is he still being the same old Buck now? Who knows?

From 6x16 through 6x18, Buck was still acting like the same old Buck then he ended the season in another lackluster boring relationship with someone who he believed SAW him but everyone knows she didn’t see $hit.

Now here’s my main issue and please don’t misunderstand me. If Buck’s all great and happy, FINE but it’s hard to correlate his new found happiness with everything he’s been through especially since the audience didn’t get to see his journey. He’s not in therapy and he’s not reading self-help books or whatever anymore so how did he get from point A to point B? Inquiring minds would like to know.

Since the audience remains in the dark, are we supposed to just accept him saying he’s better? I’m not buying that snake oil they’re selling and my reasoning for it is based on two things. First, Buck identifies himself as a firefighter but that wasn’t addressed before season 6 ended because IMO it tied in with everything else he experienced. Also, Buck’s actions in the promos and trailers make it seem like he’s hesitant about something regarding his job. Could the narrative change? ABSOLUTELY but if it doesn’t, no one knows if he is or isn’t still struggling.

Reminder, Buck broke up with Natalia but Eddie didn’t know and why is that? Their lack of communication could be due to the wacky time jumps or the miscalculation of them but in any event, they hadn't discussed it even though they're working together again. In 7x1, they kept showing how close they are but there’s obviously some things they still haven’t discussed including Buck’s death. Please note, Buck is once again paralleling Athena since there’s something she hasn’t told Bobby too. They're both not saying the stuff they should be and if they continue to parallel then all should be revealed soon.

This post is simply to highlight the fact that Buck took another journey but once again, the audience has NO IDEA how he got there just like at the end of season 5 when he finally ended things with Taylor. Sure he broke up with her but he didn’t do it because he was unhappy, he did it because she did something he probably knew she would do anyway especially since she betrayed the 118 and Bobby in 2x6 so what exactly is the audience supposed to believe? He’s changed even though we didn’t see it? I call BS and I think TM is lying just like he did about Eddie’s PTSD. He said Eddie wouldn’t go through it but a few months later he did and it was important to his healing.

Will anything come of all the things Buck experienced in season 6? Who knows but apparently the audience is just supposed to roll with the idea that he’s 100% better even though we didn’t see any of it. Reminder, we saw everyone else’s journey and how they clawed their way back after their breakdowns, i.e., Eddie’s, Maddie’s, Athena’s, Chimney’s and even Bobby’s after he had two, one in 2x16 and one in season 1 after the plane crash but we’re supposed to accept the fact that Evan “Please don’t leave me, I make things about me and I like to fix things” “Buck” Buckley is ok? NOPE! I’m not buying it.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #911 on abc #911 meta #911 speculation #911 spoilers #anti bucktalia #911 season 7 #911 season 7 speculation #evan buckley character study 911 #oliver stark #ryan guzman

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sgt-morgan · 1 year

Text

Of Cowboys and Daisies🐎

Summary: Jack is assigned to watch over a mother and her adorable little girl. As they get closer and closer to taking care of their problem, Jack worries he won’t be able to let go.

Warnings: AFAB! Female identifying reader, talks of cannon typical violence, death of a spouse x2, really a fluff piece.

A/N: I wrote this because I have that stupid Tik tok edit song stuck in my noodle.

Masterlist

Follow up fic

Agent Whiskey wasn’t sure he was going to survive this arrangement. Champ said it was temporary, but his idea of temporary passed about two months ago. It was a fairly simple assignment, and with everything that’s happened, an easy assignment is a lot kinder than getting kicked off the team. So he took the job, even though the rapidly approaching end of it made him want to drink until he couldn’t see straight.

“It’s a simple protection detail.” Champ had shrugged, pulling the file out of his desk and smacking it down in front of him with a sigh. “She’s a youngin’, at least to me anyway. She’s CIA, talented too, once her life is out of the red zone, I’ll probably recruit her. Sharp as a tack, quick as a whip, and she’s got the mouth of a sailor, she’s right up your alley.” Jack studies the files with interest, running a curious finger over the picture of you that was attached to the file. You were a looker for sure, he listened to champ go on, reading over your impressive and extensive file, until he ran across a bit of information that shocked him half to death.

“She’s got a baby?” He huffed, incredulous.

“Yeah, little girl, her names Daisy May, she’s three. She’s sweeter than a peach, got Tequila and Ginger wrapped around her little finger already, and Momma is just as bad.” Champ chuckled, pouring them both a glass of Statesman’s finest while Jack stared at him intent on hearing every detail Champ was willing to offer. “Her late husband was a SEAL. Top ranking, special ops, very high up on the food chain. One day she goes out to grab dinner with the baby, comes back and he’s dead with a note pinned to his chest with her cover details written all over it. Tried to deal with it on her own, then after about two months she pulls the bottle her daddy- former agent Brandy god rest his soul- left her and called us up asking us to make her disappear. So we called our buddies at the CIA, got her cleared, and we’re doing it. She’s our-specifically your- problem until we can take out whoever blew her cover.”

Jack stared at the amber liquid in his glass and thought long and hard about that one. It’s a dark story, indicative of his own. “Where are we keeping her?” He sighs, swirling the liquid once more before shooting it.

“Well son, that’s up to you. If you wanna do a safe house, that’s fine. We can radio y’all in and use satellite to do the rest, or you can use the ranch. Familiar territory for you, plenty of security, and it means we can all look after her and the little one when necessary.” Champ sighs when Jack slides his glass back over to him.

“Where abouts they from?” Jack questions, “They gonna be ok living in a ranch or am I working with city slickers?”

“Oh no, She’s originally from Prestonsburg, she’s Floyd county born and raised. They were living in Texas though. Her husband was a Texan, moved to Austin to be closer to family and all that. She ain’t got anybody but an Aunt back home, but she’s an Eastern Kentucky girl. She grew up riding horses.” Jack’s eyebrows shot up to the brim of his hat at Champs little interlude.

“Well Shoot Champ, you really shot the shit with her huh?” He laughs.

“Her daddy was a friend, and she’s just like him. She’s a good girl, you’ll like her.” Champ nodded him to the door, and Jack took the dismissal in stride. Champ had high hopes, and Jack just hoped he was right.

Reflecting on it now, it’s laughable how skeptical he was. You were a picture of perfection. When he first met you, he knew, and Daisy put the bow on top of the package.

Funnily enough his horse introduced you, Tequila and Ginger were walking you around the distillery grounds, and had stopped to let you show Daisy the horses. He found you standing outside of a stall, specifically the stall of his horse, Coke. Coke is an Appaloosa with a blanket with spots. He’s not normally friendly with newcomers, having a stubborn streak a mile wide, but Jack was shocked to see you stood in front of the Horse’s stall with no issue. You had the baby propped on one hip, with her head on your shoulder and a thumb in her mouth, and Coke’s muzzle resting on the other. You were casually talking to Ginger while Tequila stared on shocked as you fondly stroked the horse’s muzzle. Normally, everyone knew not to turn their back on his horse, unless of course you were him. Coke was known to be a jester, and liked to nip at your hair or push you around with his muzzle, but there he stood, cozying up to a woman he just met today. He stood back and kept watching, seeing what the horse was up to. He heard the horse nicker and huff, moving his head to push towards the baby and you laughed, letting the curious animal nuzzle at the girl.

“Yeah big boy,” you patted his crest as he moved his head off your shoulder to let the baby stroke his muzzle, “yeah- gentle Daisy May, be nice- yeah big boy, that’s my Daisy, you like her? Yeah, that’s the baby, are you a good boy? hmm?” You talked to the horse and he watched as you pulled a sugar cube from the shelf next to the stall and let the girl feed it to Coke. The big horse oh-so-gently took the cube from the girl, tickling her palm and she giggled. The horse huffed through his nose and threw his head a bit and you laughed. “Oh ho ho! Well, you liked that huh? I’d give yah another big boy but I don’t know if your rider would take too kindly to me fattening up such a pretty stallion, bet you make all those pretty broodmares happy huh? Yeah.” You laugh as he whinnies.

“Well, He took a liking to you quick.” Jack called, making himself known and getting closer to the stall. “Ol’ Coke here is usually a temperamental fella.”

“Who, this guy?” You smirk as the horse huffs again at Daisy’s hair making her giggle. “Why no, he’s a sweet fella. Ain’t yah big boy?” The horse bobs his head as if nodding in agreement and Jack chuckles.

“Don’t let him fool yah,” Tequila grumbled, eyeing the horse warily, “That menace picks on anybody that ain’t him.” He pointed at Jack with a glare and Jack chuckled.

“Now don’t be bitter sunshine, you’re just mad that he pushed you into the water trough last summer.” Jack grinned at you with a wink and you laughed. Then the girl on your hip tugged at your hair a bit and whispered in your ear. Like most children though, Daisy was not a good whisperer.

“Mama, wook, Cowboy.” She mumbled around her thumb, pointing to Jack’s Stetson. Oh how his heart melted, he knew he was a goner then and there.

“Oh man,” you gasped, “you’re right! I bet this is his horsey.” You nodded and the girls eyes twinkled with wonder.

“Horsey pwetty.” She nodded sagely, “Ask him mumma, wanna ride him.” She had the biggest eyes, her tiny curls were barely contained by the pigtails her hair was in. She was a pretty little baby, and a carbon copy of her momma, dressed in little denim overalls and a pretty flowered shirt. She was cute, almost too cute, he didn’t know how he’d survive the next month or so with those big eyes pleading with him to give her anything she wanted, he knew he would be too weak to say no, he has a hard time picturing anyone saying no to her, not even her momma. Speaking of the mom, she was beautiful. She had on a beat up Vietnam tiger stripe jungle fatigue with a patch reading ‘Brandy’ rolled up to the elbows. Her T-shirt read ‘Kentucky Strong’ and he recognized it as one of those charity shirts that raised money for the flooding in Eastern Kentucky. She had aviators perched on her nose and two dog tags around her neck, one that was clearly older than the other, one for dad one for her husband if he had to guess. The best thing about the outfit though, was the shorts, those beautiful legs on full display, so good looking he had to pry his eyes off of her with the strength of ten men.

Jack jumped in all at once, “Am I a cowboy sweet baby? What gave me away? Was it the belt buckle?” He playfully tugged on it and gave an exaggerated frown, the girl giggled a no, and he pointed to his boots. “Oh, must’a been my boots!” He kicked up a heel to show off the worn brown leather boots. The girl squealed and laughed again, and you watched delighted that your baby was having so much fun.

“No!” Daisy laughed again clutching her hands together while she giggled. “No it was the hat!”

“Oh! Why silly me!” He breathed a fake sigh of relief, “I forgot it was up there sugar! Can’t be a cowboy without the hat!” The little girl laughed again in delight and he grinned back. Tequila and Ginger stared on shocked, Whiskey hadn’t been this carefree in a while, this little girl was working miracles. “Oh but I’ve gone and forgotten my manners,” Jack smacks his forehead dramatically “I never got your name Little lady! My name is Jack, what yours?” He extended a hand to the girl and she beamed, tucking her tiny hand in his.

“I’m Daisy!” She grinned, shaking his hand.

“Well, ain’t that just first class, you’re as pretty as a flower, so you must be Daisy!” He grinned at the delighted little girl, then whispered to her conspiratorially, “And who’s this?” He pointed at you and Daisy nodded, her mouth an ‘o’.

She introduced you and Jack smiled, tiling his hat to you, “Pretty name for a pretty lady, I’m Jack Daniel’s, code name Whiskey ma’am, pleased to make your acquaintance, and this here’s Coke.” He patted the horse’s flank as he stepped closer to you.

Your smile was just as magnetic as your daughter’s, and Jack felt his knees buckle, “Pleased to meet you Whiskey, Jack and Coke is my favorite combo, so I got high hopes this’ll be a good arrangement.”

And it was, y’all got on like a house on fire, and now he was very used to having you in his home. He hadn’t invited anyone into his space like this since his wife died. He couldn’t find the appeal in it, but there was something about you and this little girl he couldn’t seem to shake.

You were more than willing to tackle any task, and it was one of the things that he enjoyed most about you. In the months you had been there you helped around the Ranch any way you could. Jack had gotten used to doing the chores on his own, but he was suprised by how easily you worked yourself into his routine. It wasn’t a big Ranch, it was near the distillery in Oldham county, right smack in the middle between Louisville and La Grange. The ranch hosted his three horses, six chickens, two barn cats, and about 10 or so cows. In the mornings, you were up just as early as him, you alternated putting on the coffee, then he would deal with the horses (Coke, Julep, and Sazerac. You got a big kick out of their names, and he loved how you chuckled anytime he mentioned them.) and the cows, and you fed the chickens and the barn cats (Tom and Jerry, all the whiskey themed names). When you finished gathering eggs and greeting the cats, he would come back to you bouncing the baby on your hip while cooking breakfast.

“Well, you feed my animals and make my eggs, aren’t you handier than a pocket on a shirt.” He grinned one morning and you rolled your eyes with a chuckle.

“Well Cowboy, someone’s gotta feed you, black coffee and a Marlboro red aren’t breakfast, and they never will be.”

You were also a brilliant agent. Once you were settled, you and Jack started digging into anything you could find about the people who killed your husband, and you proved yourself an invaluable asset in intel gathering. You dug up more in a single hour than some men hoped to find in a lifetime, but it took its toll on you for sure. Day in day out combing over your husband’s files and trappings, staring at the inner mechanisms of his whole life and wonder what it would be like if he was here to finish all of his loose ends. He understood, and he hated that he couldn’t just take the pain for you, but it was a comfort to the both of you to have someone to talk to.

“Oh, the first week after his funeral was hell,” you sighed, playing with your daughters curls as she slept peacefully on your lap in the evening sun, “I kept trying to call him, to vent with him about how scared and tired I was, only to be reminded this wasn’t a deployment or a buissness trip, he was just… gone. Daisy was a mess too, cried for him every night, wouldn’t sleep until I showed her this video of him saying he loved her that he made her when he went on deployment. It broke my heart.” You sniffled and Jack felt his heart ache with sympathy.

“I know all about that hurt,” he sighed, handing you a beer and settling next to you on the big wrap around porch, “I’d keep rolling over and reaching for her in the middle of the night, I’d touch the cold sheets and I’d remember and it would hurt me every time.”

“Oh god yeah, took me weeks before I could truly sleep on my own again, I used to put one of his shirts on his pillow and sleep with it, it was the only way I could get myself to bed.” You sighed, nodding and sipping the drink.

“I used to spray her perfume on her pillow,” Jack nodded, “When I ran out I forced myself to sleep without it, It was months before I could get a full nights rest again.”

“I couldn’t imagine having to deal with all that alone,” you grimaced, “I at least had Daisy, I hate that you’re alone.”

“Well, I was alone, but I’m not anymore, I got you.” He slung an arm around your shoulder and you basked in the sun together until Jack felt you go lax in his grip. You had fallen asleep in his grasp, and he was shocked at how good it felt to have you be so vulnerable around him. It melted something in his chest. What was he gonna do with you.

You and Daisy just kept growing on him. His life was no longer just solitude and shoot outs, now it was a little more tea parties and tag and it was a very welcome change. You both had him wrapped around your fingers, every moment he wasn’t spending working on the project with you, or with Ginger and Tequila at Statesman, he was with you and your little girl.

One evening you were playing a game of tag, when Daisy just about caused them both a heart attack. You were running around and chasing each other in the small creek out the back of the ranch. Daisy was a doll in her little floral one piece, her wet hair plastered to her forehead and her little feet splashing away. You were a sight too, a black bathing suit with a cut out under your breasts showing off an ornamental tattoo that he really just wanted to-

“Come on Dada, catch me!” Time froze when the little girl said it and your jaws dropped, when you finally met each others gaze, you snapped out of it and turned to your daughter.

“No sweetie, that’s-“ you tried but the little girl cut you off.

“I know mumma. It’s otay though, Dada is no here, so this is my OTHER dada. It’s otay to have two dada.” She smiled and meandered to Jack, squeezing him in a hug. The little girl was barely knee high to a grass hopper, but she had hit him with that bombshell so hard she might as well have been a giant. Then, she just toddled off, finding interest in the stream once more, gathering rocks.

“Darlin I’m so sor-“ he began and you waved it away.

“Don’t worry Jack, she’s three. She adores you, and her only other frame of reference for a consistent male presence is her dad. Besides, if she had to pick another father figure, I’d want it to be you.” With that, you went to go stop her from tormenting a frog, and he stood there like a statue. The way you so casually said that amazed him, you put so much unwarranted faith in him, and it made the hardened cowboy turn to mush. Whatever this turns out to be though, one thing is for sure. He would do anything in the world for you and that little girl, and this just drove it home.

Weeks passed and you all just continued to get closer. Daisy asked for him as often as she did for you now when she’s upset, and he was now totally attached to their evening ritual of snuggling on the couch and watching Bluey. Every day you got closer and closer, and every day you found out more and more about your husbands killer, which ultimately led you to today.

Jack had left early, sun not even being up and the morning dew had just barely settled over the grass. Jack had gotten the mission from Ginger last night, and you had prepped and planned with him until he swore the plans were tattooed on the back of his eyelids.

It was over quick, he took them out and got his necessary intel and now you were safe. No blown cover, no second attempt at murder, just efficiency.

You’re free. You could go anywhere you want and you’d be safe. Where would you go? Your aunt was in Pburg, not too far off, a couple of tolerable hours away. Your late husband’s family though… they were in Texas, and that was more of a stretch.

This was miserable, thinking of all the ways you would leave him, though you weren’t even his to begin with. You were never his, you were just his charge, someone he was meant to protect, you and that perfect little girl. He got so caught up in it, he forgot to protect himself, and now he was faced with an old companion he never wanted to see again, loneliness.

He finally pulled up to the ranch, and Coke and the others were grazing in the first paddock near the front of the house, until the clever horse sees him and trots over with something in his teeth. It was a little stuffed rabbit, Coke had it by the ear and dropped it in his outstretched palm. It was like another painful reminder of what comes next. What would he do when his life was no longer bows and bunny rabbits. How would he go back to the way things were before. He sighed and made his way into the house, he was somewhat confused to see the front room totally empty. Normally, you’d be feeding the baby at this time, she would be sat in in the booster seat he’d bought for the kitchen table, in the little pink bib she always wore, probably making a mess, but then she’s squeal and wave at him and tell him to ‘come sit cowboy! I share!’ You’d laugh and tell her he had his own to eat, and she would frown and say ‘mine better!’ Today though, the kitchen was quiet and he felt his heart hammering in his chest, had you already gone? Were you so excited to be rid of him? But no, there was the sound of a shower, his shower specifically. He wandered into his room, and the sight there strengthened his resolve and told him that he needed to buck up and tell you how he feels, because he never wanted to sacrifice this.

Daisy was laying on his pillow, the stuffed horse toy that was an exact replica of Coke was tucked up under her chin, and she contentedly snored away on top of his quilt. The only light in the room was from the lamp on his bedside table, and a sliver leaking out from the cracked door to his bathroom. He carefully tucked the little girls blank is up over her chin, and listened to you humming from the shower. He was used to sharing his bathroom with you, normally you used the one near your room, but when you needed to shower and Daisy was napping, you preferred to use his so you could hear her if she cried. The warm smell of your shampoo was wafting from the bathroom, and your clothes were laid out on his bed. He ran a hand over them with a soft smile, the whole thing just felt so domestic. The sleeping child, the woman in his shower, the three sets of boots by his door, the pictures on his fridge. They all just felt so natural, filling his empty space with the feeling of home.

“Jack? Cowboy? Is that you?” You called from the bathroom.

“Yeah Sugar, it’s me.” He called back softly, padding his way into the bathroom and leaning up against the sink.

“How’d it go Whiskey? Did all go to plan?” He heard the hopefulness in your voice.

“Yeah sweetness, we did it. You’re free.” He could hear you pause at the melancholy in his voice and he was kicking himself. ‘Don’t ruin this for her Jacky, she should be happy.’ He heard the water kick off and handed you your Terry cloth robe and a towel. Once you were decent, you opened the curtain.

“You say that, but why does it sound like you just signed my warrant?” You asked curiously, squeezing the ends of your hair with a towel. He hadn’t realized how comfortable you had gotten around each other, but he supposed he shouldn’t be all that shocked. All the small touches, the snuggles, then tender moments. He was addicted to them now, and he never wanted to kick the habit.

“Well, I reckon you’d wanna get back to your life now there ain’t a target on your back.” He sighs, removing his hat and running a hand through his hair.

“Oh Jack,” you chuckled and his head whipped up when your palms came to rest on his cheeks. “These past few moths have been some of the happiest moments of my life since my husband passed. My daughter loves you, you are so good with her, she’s had nothing but smiles and laughter. You make my days better, you make me happy.” You caressed his cheek and he was hanging on to your every word, staring into those beautiful eyes he dreamed after these days. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it clearer baby, you’ll have to pardon me for that, Lord knows I’ve been a little scattered, but I have my life, it’s right here, with you. That is, if you’ll have me.”

He was stunned, here in his arms he held everything he never thought he’d have when his wife died. A beautiful woman, a sweet baby, laughter, light, and maybe even love. “Oh honey,” he gasped, pulling you in and finally kissing you like he’s wanted to since he saw you that first day in the stables. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me from you and that little girl.” You giggled and kissed him again, and again. When you finally broke away, you grinned up at him, and in this moment if you had asked him to kill an army of a thousand, he would have asked you what time you wanted him home for dinner.

“Well then cowboy? Why don’t you get gussied up and we can celebrate our new beginnings. Together.”

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Kingsmen #Kingsmen and the Golden Circle #Spotify #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal character fanfiction #whiskey #whiskey x reader

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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My Masterlist!

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

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