#oc: whiskey jack | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pennyserenade · 2 years

Text

‘til the cows come home

pairing: agent whiskey x female oc , agent whiskey x reader summary: jack daniels is the sort of man lucky enough to happen upon beautiful women’s windows, and she is the sort of woman unfortunate to want men who do that. it’s been working beautifully ever since he did. warnings:language, lots of fun nasty stuff: thigh riding, oral (m and f), pinv sex (protected though! stay safe), breeding kink (but you really might miss it if you blink), dirty talk, a little bit of sexual repression being talked about, but certainly not had. word count:5.7k+ (i was possessed) rating: e (explicit) author’s note: this might just be the dirtiest thing i’ve ever produced and i’m oh so proud of it. i hope you enjoy this cowboy like i do. also, this is sorta like a historical au. when writing it i kept imagining the wild west and i don’t know, the influence is too ingrained in it for to be considered anything else. that’s what happens when you read dirty historical romance novels <3

Men had a habit of falling into her life. It was a simple, inarguable fact she had done little to conceal, partially because most of them weren’t her fault.

Jack Daniels was one of these men. While most of them had come to her in a variety of ways (through the doors of saloons, on the backs of horses, carried seemingly by the wind), Jack quite literally had fallen into her home, and she supposed, right into her heart.

She always did have a soft spot in her for the rugged and that night when he had scaled the side of her house, cursing under his breath and fighting for dear life to hold himself up on her second story window, he had been preparing himself for a lifetime of being cared for.

Too startled to have screamed, she had sat on her bed and stared at him through the moonlight that cascaded in. His black hair fell over his perspiration-covered forehead and, from what she could see over the shadows in her room, he nursed a black eye and a bloody lip. Despite the injuries and his state of dishevelment, when he looked up at her with those puppy dog brown eyes and held his finger over his lips, bidding her to remain silent, she knew he was a thoroughly handsome man. Handsome men often got themselves in trouble in her town, she knew, so she didn’t say a word.

Jack now comes in through the front door instead, but the state of him can never be predicted. Tonight he was neatly done up - freshly shaven aside from his mustache - and wearing clean clothes without wrinkles. She wondered, as she ran her hands over the fabric that stretched attractively across his broad shoulders, what person he had conned into doing his laundry. A bit of envy buried itself in her at the idea of some other pretty woman working his fabrics in water and soap and pinning them to her line, as though he was hers. It was not in her nature to pry or ask about other women, or even, really to think those thoughts at all - for when you concern yourself with handsome, nomadic men, you break your own heart - but she was fond of this cowboy. She liked the look of his deplorable fabrics hanging next to her Sunday best on the line.

Just because the idea of this other woman made her feel sort of mean, she tugged gently at the back of his thick head of hair. He grunted at the sensation and tilted his head back to ease the minute pain of it. A handsome smile curved itself on his lips when his eyes made contact with hers. “Oh darlin’,” his voice dripped, just like honey, “You can’t be tugging at me like that or I’ll find myself in the position to plead for more.”

“You’re too good lookin’ for your own damn good,” she muttered, though not unkindly, before pressing her lips to his smooth cheek. She could feel the way the skin tightened from the strain of his grin.

“One could say the same ‘bout you. Sure many have, Miss.” Acting quick as she released her grip on his hair, Jack took her arm and pulled her down to his lap. She went down without a fight and he ran his nose alongside her jawline intimately as a reward. “If I was sensible, I’d make a woman out of you.”

She turned her head and pressed her lips softly to his. “No one’s asking you to be that, now.”

“I’m afraid of the day I come back to this town and you’re wed to someone else. Last time I heard a gunslinger down at that saloon you like had his eyes set on you.”

“A gunslinger.” Her fingers played with the back of his hair. “I don’t recall bedding one of those.”

He grinned at her feigned ignorance. “I won’t pretend not to be wounded but I understand a woman like you has desires.” Her lips pressed to the side of his teasingly as he continued to talk. “I only request that you not tell them you like the feel of them best.” He halted his speech, relishing the fact that one of her kisses made contact with his lips, setting him ablaze in a way she could not possibly know. “Please,” he pressed out, “Save that line for me.”

She wanted to tell him what a damn fool he was, but that would mean to take a bit of magic from their arrangement. To enlighten him on just how fond she was of him - to tell him that she hasn’t had a gunslinger, or any man, since the last time he left - would make it a burden to him. And to her, really. She liked this cowboy but to love this cowboy would take away a freedom she liked to exercise since she found out she could: kissing and not telling. To marry a man is to tell the entire town of your business, especially when it ends in children and —

Jack pulled at the skirts of her dress, successfully distracting her from the steady flow of burdensome thought. “Goddamn, woman, I’ve been tryin’ to hold off since I got here but I’ve wanted you since I was four towns away and those little kisses of yours are downright devious.”

She wrapped herself around his neck and Jack, knowing what this meant, gathered her up into his arms and stood. The creak of his chair sliding against the hard floor made her laugh.

As he carried her to her room, she pressed her lips to the part of his neck that always him come undone when he was in her arms and was too overcome to stop it. The fact that he let out an audible gasp now told her all she needed to know about just how much he wanted her. In a strange way, it made her feel positively and blessedly woman.

His touch was hardly what could be considered gentle as he laid her flat on the bed and pooled up the skirts of her dress. She laid on her back for him, arms stretched out wide, feeling the soft fabric beneath her and embracing the heavy thud of her heart. A genuine smile worked itself into her lips as Jack’s fingers made quick work of pulling down her undergarments. She began to feel the makings of her own desires for him bubble up inside.

Jackson was a good lover. Not too selfish, not too rough, not too plain, and certainly not unadventurous. He liked to be teased and tested, didn’t mind stumbling his way through a new position, and he proved himself experienced with all the classic ones. One might even say he was giving, what with the way he’d already shot down on knees she knew ached (he was too hard on that good looking body of his) and began to make his way up her legs.

“Jack,” she whispered into the night air. She always did like the sound of it off of her lips, almost as though it had been meant to be put there. He planted warm kisses up the side of her left leg, then switched to her right when he found himself above the knee. Her fingers dug into the blanket on bed, anticipating what was to come. Just the feel of his lips and his warm breath on her sensitive skin was enough to do her in. When he found her cunt with his tongue, she knew there couldn’t be much more he could extract from her.

The tip of his tongue parted her folds. He worked slowly, lapping up the taste of her as though it’s his first. When she bucked her hips up, trying to get him to go faster, he did - and more. He dipped the tip of his warm tongue inside of her teasingly and then ran it through her folds again, and again, and again, each time barely reaching her bundled nerves at the top with his nose. The feel of his mustache against her was one she’d missed - one she always missed. She didn’t like bedding men with mustaches anymore because it felt like a betrayal to him. When she touched herself, she did it with the memory of his and his alone against her.

“Jack,” she moaned, not knowing what else to do with her want other than to speak it. Jack worked to relieve some of the want when his lips crowded down over her clit and his tongue did that delightful flickering that had once been new to her before him. And then, all at once, he was sucking at the tender bit of flesh above her cunt, pushing her into overdrive.

As if he knew what her reaction was - and it’s likely he did, having drawn it from her time and time before - Jack pinned her hips down with hands. “Oh God,” she moaned, fighting the urge to wiggle as he ran his tongue over her cunt again, and then back up to clit. “Oh God, Jackson. I feel like I'm in Heaven.”

She wished that she hadn’t been wearing a dress when he walked through her front door. She wished that she had been stark naked as the day she was born, in fact, so they wouldn’t have had to dance around the formalities of meeting each other again. He wouldn’t have had to conceal any of his desires. He could’ve stared unabashedly at her, then set her on the table where they’d been before and done just this to her. And she could’ve seen it. That’s what she really wanted, to see it. His head was hidden beneath her skirts and he was doing excellent work, but nothing compared to looking down and meeting his hungry gaze.

He managed to make her body come to its most natural conclusion despite the lack of visuals. Jack had her rutting her hips against his mouth, overriding the pressure he applied to keep them pinned - a true nod to his talents. She felt so full of want for him, even as she rode the waves of her pleasure and felt warmth evade her. There was no man who did it quite like Jack. Insatiable. He made her completely insatiable.

He reappeared from her skirts, mouth covered in her slick, but uncaring. He kissed her on the mouth, letting her taste herself, and she did him one better, opening her lips so he could taste her further. Before he pulled away, she sucked at the end of his tongue. This drew a deep moan from him, something that came straight from the belly.

“I missed you.” He told her as his hands groped at one of her breasts. Once more she cursed herself for wearing the dress, because she wanted nothing more than to be bare for him. “I hardly even take women who aren’t you anymore.” Jack looked vaguely pained as he laid down next to her and examined her clothed body, and then his own. “Turn yourself around and let me undress you.”

She did so happily, laying flat on her stomach nearly the instant the words came from his mouth. He unbuttoned her buttons expertly, even in the dark, borne no doubt from the habit of having done it many times before. She helped him take herself out of the fabric, pulling her arms out, leaving her only in her chemise.

He turned her back over towards him and then took her still clothed nipple into his mouth. The hot feel of him on her made her crave him entirely too much for her own good. The feeling became something she felt deeply within her, in a spot reserved for all of her deepest, most true desires. It was a place that demanded nothing but the truth to be set ablaze - the spot before her cunt, low on her tummy, where all her desire surged together before they exploded in her most intimate place - and tonight it revealed many of those truths. She wanted Jack more than she had ever wanted anyone at the moment.

She could feel the outline of his erection against her side as he moved to the other side of her and took that nipple into his mouth. Her fingers ran through his hair as he twirled his tongue around her. “Undress,” she pleaded, feeling as though the word had been stuck in her throat since he laid her down on the bed.

Never one to deny her anything, especially like this, he drew himself away from her body and stumbled his way through taking himself out his freshly laundered clothing. First came his shirt, which he undone in record speed, pulling it so quickly off his frame she hardly had a chance to admire the bare flesh he presented before his pants came off with it. Then came his underwear, leaving him stark naked at the foot of her bed. He was as handsome as he had been that night when he fell into her room, maybe more so now that she knew what it was to touch him.

She held herself up with her elbows to get a better view of the length of him. If she had been in a more playful mood, and wasn’t overcome by her desire for him, she might have let a whistle escape her - the long, drawn out sort meant for teasing blushing brides. No doubt it would make him push her down on the bed so he could swallow the sound in his throat. The idea of it almost made her do it.

Jack must’ve known just how much she was his in moments like this and that there was nothing she would not let him have. Her face must have seemed to say ‘Take me, for I’m ripe and you’re all I want’ for every time they ended up like this, he did so without abandon. And she craved it. She knew that his disappearances had gotten fewer and farther between, because she anticipated his arrivals. The days without him felt longer and the nights, even worse. She was happy to look at his handsome, naked frame and to glance into his dark eyes and find nothing but want.

The mattress dipped suddenly from the return of his weight and she silently thanked whatever Lord that might exist for it. His skin was hot, so hot she could feel it radiate off of him despite the fact that had yet to make contact with one another again. The mere inches that separated them felt like miles. It did not take Jack long to reach out to her, pressing his long fingers into the flesh on her hip, closing the space. He pulled her body closer to his, unable to wait even a moment longer. He wanted to touch her. She felt it. He gripped her hard, like she was going to disappear right before him if he didn’t.

She pressed her lips to his but hardly made contact, too quick and not focused enough. Jack turned his head towards her, correcting the alignment of their lips. He kissed her hard and asked for entrance by sliding his tongue alongside her bottom lip. There was nothing she would not give him now. Opening her mouth, she welcomed the taste that was uniquely Jack - a mixture of alcohol, cigarettes, and an unidentifiable sweetness. It was what made him him. She could kiss a thousand men just like she was him, but none of them would have that. She craved it, the fool she was.

He groaned into her mouth as she took his hard cock into her right hand. He was bigger than most of the men she had seen. She resisted the urge to tell him, lest it inflate his ego, but she allowed herself to say “God, Jack, you’re so pretty.”

He laughed hotly, his head falling back onto the bed and his body following. It was like, through merely touching his cock, she had gained access to the very core of him. It made her smile. He allowed her to guide him back and climbed atop of him, straddling his thighs. Her eyes glanced upwards and really looked at him. He was pretty. His hair was messy, having been played with, and it was sticking up in the back, but it seemed to fit him. Jack was the sort of man who needn’t be perfectly put together to possess handsomeness. In fact, oftentimes he looked better when something was off. Aside from his hair there too was a blush that gathered over his cheeks and a pinched expression on his face that could land anywhere between pain and pleasure. He looked overwhelmed. He looked overcome. She liked him best this way.

She began to stroke him with her right hand, feeling out each vein in his cock with her dry hand, and fingering his weeping head with her left index finger. His eyes met hers and his mouth fell open but no words escaped. It was so rare Jack found himself unable to speak and she felt flattered that she could move him to it.

“I missed you, cowboy,” she confessed. It was easier to be vulnerable like this, when she felt so desired. Taking the wetness that he produced and running it over the tip of his head, she felt more powerful than she had in months. He jutted upwards, beginning to help her stroke him, unable to stay still. She knew he wanted her. She knew that his cock weeped for her. Jack wanted her so bad his whole body reacted to the feeling. She couldn’t understand how any woman wouldn’t feel this good, but she also hated to think he’d let any other woman feel this way. She didn’t like that his body might respond so readily and that he’d become so pliable for anyone but her.

In combat with this imaginary woman, she felt as though she had to show him why he should want her most. She did as she knew he liked: she scooted down his body and she took the head of him between her lips, sucking teasingly. He let out no sound and she did not glance up to see his face, but she knew from the way his cock jumped against her tongue that she excited him beyond words. Really, she had excited him even beyond movement, for even his hips had stilled.

She took him farther into her mouth, running her tongue over the underside of him as she went down, and then back up. The hands which had laid at his side pooled in her hair and he finally let a moan fall from his lips. He did nothing to change her speed - he did not move upwards with his hips like he had done in her hands, and he did not urge her with his hands in her hair - but she did it anyway, because she knew. She had done this as many times as he had fallen to her knees for him. It was an indeterminable amount, but she knew it to be many. The stretch of him in her mouth had once been a struggle, but now she took him with ease, as though she had become a woman made for him over time. In a way it felt as though she had. She came quickest on his tongue, fastest on his cock. He didn’t want her to tell other men that they felt best in her, and she wouldn’t because it was the truth. He did feel best.

The salty taste of him on her tongue reminded her of the tangy taste of herself on his, only moments before. Jack had been the only man who liked to kiss her after he had put his mouth on her. Many men never even put their mouth down there to begin with. Jack had not been the first, but he had been the only one to show any sort of eagerness to do so. He had once confessed to her that he enjoyed the act of it because of the way women responded to it, so unashamed when he got them to that place just before they collapsed against his tongue. For much of the same reasons she enjoyed him in her mouth, Jack liked her in his. There was something beautiful about being able to give another person a pleasure that tore through them.

She wanted to taste him as he tasted her. She wanted to make him cum, to feel the tangible evidence of his desire on her tongue. She twirled her tongue around the head of his cock and reached between his legs to fondle his testicles. The hands that had been passive in her hair tightened when she did.

“No, no inside you,” Jack managed to say, voice hoarse.

She removed her mouth from his cock slowly, teasingly. “Have you got any protection?“ she asked.

“Yes,” he responded. He aimed a finger in the general direction of his clothing. “In my pockets. One of ‘em.”

She parted from him and began the search, digging through the endless amounts of pockets he seemed to have in his clothing. When she found it, she returned to him eagerly. He took the item from her hand and she got back to where she had begun, strangling his muscular thighs. She then watched curiously as he put the protection on his cock.

She often wondered what it might be like to feel the bareness of him between her legs as she had done in her mouth, without it. She had only ever had sex like this, protected, so she didn’t have any idea as to what it might feel like at all. Would she feel each vein as she did in her mouth? Would he be warmer against her, better suited? She found she liked the idea of the liquid that gathered on his cock now merging with the slickness that gathered between her legs; she could only imagine what it might be like if he exploded inside of her as he did in her mouth. She had heard that there were ways to do it without the result of children, but had never asked. Not until Jack had she wanted that.

Jack’s breath was labored as he leaned forward and kissed her. She melted into his body, her bare nipples pressing against his chest and her sex now pressing into his thigh instead of over them. She knew that he could feel the way she wanted him.

“Jack,” she whispered weakly as he brushed his lips against hers. She felt his hot breath against her cheek and the heat of his body between her, and she was certain she had never wanted someone so badly before. Desire tore through her like a storm and every sensible part of her fell in light of it. She pressed herself against his leg, hoping to find some relief.

He looked down between them and she did it again, daring him to do something about it. Pleading with him. When he didn’t, she did it again. His eyes did not stray from the place between them, and so she found herself doing it again, this time for his pleasure as much as hers. It was nothing compared to the feel of his cock but it helped, and the way he looked down at her, just watching, added another dimension of pleasure to it.

“You’re so wet.” He was so close to her that she felt his words fan against her. Her arms wrapped loosely around his neck and his finger pressed into her hips, guiding her on his thigh. His cock jumped excitedly against his stomach as she pulled herself forward on him. Her breathy moans filled the rest of the space between them. The pressure that was being put on her clit made her weak yet strong, chasing the feeling that gathered in her stomach as her knees dared to give out. Jack held her as if he knew it.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, watching her. “Such a good girl for me, honey. I love feeling how much you want me.”

Her head fell back as he coaxed her into an orgasm. As her cunt clenched around nothing, she gripped her arms around his neck and let the feeling overcome her. He held her by the waist, drawing her in closer, and kissed her chest as the warm feeling of her finish traveled pleasurably throughout her shaky frame.

“Jack.” Her chest rose and fell, and sweat began to gather on her body. She could feel the moisture between them.

She looked down at him, exhausted but elated, and saw his dark brown eyes shine with a mixture of lust and adoration. That was another thing about Jack, that was uniquely his own; the way he looked at her. It held a tenderness, even if maybe his own heart lacked it. She kissed him hard on the lips in an attempt to not let it get her.

His arms ceased to release her, pressing her against his body as his tongue explored the depths of her mouth. She felt his erection pressed between them.

“Fuck me,” she told him bluntly, forgetting not to be coarse. She knew he didn’t mind it, anyhow. In fact, it was he who had introduced such words into her bedroom. She knew them, of course - she was no tart - but he invited them to be spoken. Nah - encouraged them. Some men thought that sort of thing to be dirty. They could accept that she’d want to sleep with them and they could accept all the obscene things they wanted to do with her, but words like fuck and cock and cunt made them think differently of her. Made them think her dirty. Not Jack. Jack took them in his mouth as he kissed her again and he prepared to do just what she asked.

The man was strong. He flipped her over onto her back and planted his body between her thighs. She felt his erection press into her sex when he leaned forward to plant a trail of kisses between her chest and down to her belly button. His mustache tickled her and she wriggled beneath him, a small smile forming.

He looked up at her, face hard. “You want me, honey?”

“More than anything,” she confessed, low and quiet, afraid if she said it too loud it might interrupt whatever took place between them now. His gaze was steady, sure, and those eyes of his made her feel warm even though she was as bare as she could get.

She watched as she took himself into his hands and lined his cock up to her opening. He watched her, never stopping to look down at himself. Those eyes of his wanted to take it all in, every moment. She nodded at him, wishing she could somehow open her legs wider, just to offer more of herself to him.

The tip of him was a tight fit even despite the way she all but gushed for him. He entered himself slowly, letting her body adjust to the size of him. He felt so warm. So good. When he reached the end of himself in her, she felt so delightfully full of him she was moved to pure silence. Jack stilled himself in her, letting them both have that moment. He held himself above her with his arms and curiously watched her features.

“Move.” She found her voice. “Fast.”

He nodded wordlessly. She didn’t have time to mourn the loss of him before his hips jutted forward and she got him again. He began to fuck her. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, lifting herself to grant him more access, Jack’s hips snapped against her own. He hit her deep, touching a spot in her that drew out a beautiful mixture of expletives and his name.

“You take me so fuckin’ good,” he said behind gritted teeth. She felt him so deeply inside of her and yet she craved more. Her fingers dug half moons into the bottom of his back and he rammed herself full of him, again and again. The sound of her want filled the air, right alongside his deep groans. She bit at her lip.

He looked heavenly above her, even despite his completely undone state. He lost himself to her and it was a pleasure to see. “You fill me better than anyone,” she said. “Jackson. I feel like I was made for you.”

“‘Cause you goddamn were,” he grunted, plunging deeply inside of her. The obscene slap of his balls against her ass as he rammed into her drew a moan from her mouth, right alongside his words. She loved when he spoke like that. He knew she did. “I could make an honest woman of you if you’d let me.” His head fell by her ear, his strokes becoming shorter. His body drew closer to hers. “I could fill you to the brim with me, let me drip down your leg for a whole day after. If that gunslinger wants you so goddamn bad, he’ll just have to get a little of me, too.”

She could feel him pulse inside of her, the tell-tell sign of his incoming orgasm. She turned her head and kissed him sloppily on the lips. “That gunslinger won’t get me. Hasn’t,” she told him between breaths. “You’ve already made an honest woman out of me. Don’t you feel it? Don’t you hear it?”

He snapped his hips inside of her one time more before she felt the warmth of his semen filling the protection. He grunted and rode out the rest of it. She wrapped her arms around his neck again and he leaned more and more into her body until he laid completely into her, boneless. He breathed heavily, but contently, against her. Where her sweat ended and his began was no longer discernible. They were, for all intents and purposes, one.

The room smelled of their desire. She patted down his unruly hair, happy to be surrounded by it.

“I dunno how I ever manage to leave you,” he spoke softly. Her legs had fallen from his torso but her arms had yet to let him escape. She liked holding him and suspected that he liked to be held; those words of his nearly confirmed it, too.

“Seems you’ve been doing quite well without me,” she teased. But she strategically said no more.

“Yeah?” He turned his head to look at her.

“Mhm.”

“What makes you think that? Words been traveling?”

She smiled at him, amused. “Are there words with enough weight for the wind to carry?”

“Always.” He winked. “Nothin’ of merit, though. Just the same shit. They’ve taken to sayin’ I’ve killed two men. Gather that. Two men.”

“You haven’t?”

“I killed three of the bastards!” he huffed indignantly.

“Is that why you’re here? You’re running from the law?”

The tender look came to his eyes again. “Is that what you think I came here for?”

“No?” Yes. Maybe. “I haven’t ever really got the vaguest idea why you come.”

“I’m a bit caught up on you.”

“In me, you mean,” she countered. Her fingers moved his sweat matted hair away from his forehead.

He decided to let the comment pass. Neither of them liked addressing anything too serious.

“You break the heart of the girl who washed your clothes?”

His eyebrows knitted tougher. “What—“ Then he smiled. It was that charming grin of his that got him in her bed to begin with. “No, I didn’t let any girl wash my clothes. I did it. A man gets awfully lonely sometimes without female companionship so he does things like wash his own damn clothes.”

“And who’s line did you wash them on?” she asked. She didn’t know why she had to know so damn bad. She just did.

“A very fine old grandma.” His warm lips pressed into the flesh of her stomach. “I had to pay her a few coins, but I thought it was worth the effort. She let me bathe too. I hadn’t ever come to you clean like that before. Not all done up, anyways. I always bathe.”

Her heart leaped in her chest and she tried her best to not be overjoyed by what he was telling her. He said it all so simply, like it didn’t mean anything — like it wasn’t the grandest gesture a man had ever made to her.

She responded with own form of intimacy. “I’d like to clean your clothes.”

“Hm,” he responds. His fingers rubbed circles onto her side. “And claim me?” She said nothing, avoiding the serious. “I’d like you to wash my clothes,” he followed it up. “And cook my breakfasts.”

She grinned. “And your dinners?”

“And my dinners.”

“I’m not a damned maid,” she told him. Her lips twisted into a smirk.

“Okay, only the clothes then. We’ll figure out the rest later, won’t we?”

Her heart ached. It wasn’t supposed to do that. She needed something to bring her down to earth. “When are you leaving again?”

Jack lifted himself out of her and she nearly pleaded with him not to, but didn’t, not as fearless as she was before.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe enough for four washes of my clothes?”

“How often do your clothes get washed?”

“I don’t know. Depends. You can go as slow as possible.”

“What if they’re dirty?”

“I’ll be careful,” he spoke quietly. She knew his words meant too much for him when he did that. “I’ll stay out of trouble here with you.”

“Are you in trouble, Jack?”

“In a fashion.” He laid himself down next to her, having discarded the protection that had wrapped around him.

“Is someone lookin’ for you.”

“Sure.” He nodded. “But they’re not my problem.”

“What is?”

He smiled and ran his finger along her moist bottom lip. He kissed her then and she knew. It was her.

She was his trouble.

She’d never been so happy to be someone’s pain in the ass.

“I wouldn’t mind cookin’ lunch, I don’t think,” was what she said in response.

He laughed heartily. She did too.

If this was what making an honest woman of her entailed, maybe she wouldn’t mind that.

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x female oc #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #jack daniels #agent whiskey #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #historical au

253 notes · View notes

scarriestmarlowe · 1 year

Text

EVERYONE LOOK AT MY @heymartinah COMMISSION!!!!

genuinely they were so amazing, incredibly fast, and SUPER well priced. this art came out so well and their work is STELLAR! they communicated throughout the whole process and this is EXACTLY what i wanted!!! i 100% reccomend you commission them!!!

#heymartinah #commissions #art #fanart #south park #south park oc #oc: jack ‘whiskey’ scotch #butters scotch #kenny mccormick #professor chaos #mysterion #count evilcula

57 notes · View notes

pebblesmustard · 1 year

Text

Not Alone Enough (Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x M!OC)

Summary:"While his soul grew more restless by the second, he felt suspended in his body as if the world went on moving without him. A nightmarish heaviness seeping inside his bones, he wants to scream, yell, and cry until he stops feeling altogether.”

Pairing: Jack Daniels x M!OC Mateo Rating: M (to be safe; no actual smut to warrant it but this blog is 18+ only)

Warnings: mentions of estranged parental (paternal side) relationship, mentions of heartbreak and grief, very brief allusions to sex, character introspection, probably lots of grammatical errors and typos, not beta'd (please let me know if I've missed anything)

Word count: 7k

A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first piece of writing I've finished after a ten year drought and the first ever time I'm sharing my writing online and I don't think I've ever been this scared. I've been sitting on this story since November and decided that I'd share it as a gift to myself on my birthday. This is definitely more of a short story about my oc, Mateo, than a Jack Daniels fic. But I think he fit in well with Mateo and I couldn't help but write him in the way I did.

Also, I'd like to give a huge thank you to my sister and my two best friends for giving this a read and to @jazzelsaur who is truly a beacon of inspiration and encouragement 💛 If you do come across this fic and decide to give it a read I hope you enjoy it!

....

Waking up had been slow going today.

The quiet blue of early morning skies had stirred the comfortable darkness of the room. Eyes slowly opening up, Mateo took in his bedroom; the window to his left letting in the smallest bit of blue light. His alarm still a way to go off on his bedside table, he can’t help but smile at a large glass of water sitting next to it that certainly wasn’t there before he’d drifted off.

Unwilling, more than unable to extract himself from a pair of arms with a vice grip around his waist, he had gotten used to a certain kind of warmth in his bed. Jack, with his brown hair tussled by the pillow’s cotton and his cheek folded in two, never strayed too far from Mateo’s heat in sleep. The sight of the brown-haired man next to him never ceased to set latter’s heart alight.

Waking up before Jack was not a common occurrence, so whenever Mateo did manage to be the one up before the sun, he always took a moment to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. That the sight of the man next to him would not wither away with the rays of sun filtering through the curtains.

When had he gotten so lucky?

When will it run out, whispered a voice, cynical and tired all the same.

The times where he had to remind himself that, no, Jack would not leave him, had slowly dwindled over time. But whenever that grating, fearful voice made itself heard, Mateo couldn’t help but bristle. He couldn’t help but wonder if he would go back to being alone again soon.

Whenever Jack saw the creases in between Mateo’s brows get deeper whether it be while reading in silence next to each other on his old couch or while in the middle of a mundane chore, but clearly lost somewhere deep inside his mind, he’d know. He’d know that whatever Mateo had been thinking up until that point couldn’t be worth occupying any more of his heart. A teasing comment, “Slacking off in the middle of a chore mister?”, would usually bring Mateo back to earth. He never could help the small, sheepish chuckle that burst free from his lips, nor the warmth that crept up his neck all the way to his ears at the realization that Jack had had his eyes on him while his mind was running a mile a minute. Mateo would usually answer with an equally teasing remark. Something like, “Looks like you’re not being that useful either, cowboy, if your eyes are lingering elsewhere”.

They would always seal the little back and forth with a kiss. Maybe two.

Jack’s kiss would be a reminder.

Mateo’s would be a benediction.

A low inhale and a croaked out “G’morning darlin’” brought Mateo out from the warm memory.

He had, as of late, found himself preferring to revel in the moment anyway.

“Mornin’. You sleep well?”

Jack had leaned in, Kentucky drawl pouring out of his mouth like molten sugar before dipping his head for a kiss, “Well, with you in my arms I had no other chance.”

“Getting real cheesy in your old age, cowboy.”

“Is that complainin’ I’m hearin’?”

Mateo couldn’t help the grin taking over his face, “Not a chance.”

That morning, a kiss had turned into two, then three. By the time they had to be out the door and well into treading through the day’s work, they had only just been able to separate one sweat slicked skin from the other.

Getting cleaned up for the day hadn’t fared any quicker.

-----

Trying to run a farm alone, no matter how much smaller it was compared to his neighbors’, was not getting any easier. Looking at the five goats frolicking around the fields Mateo had started making a mental list on the day’s chores. Hat on his head, and a small notebook in hand, he was trying to write down just how he could expand the barn to house the sheep he was planning on purchasing. The creaky building wasn’t large by any means, barely having room for five goats and a couple poultry.

The wheat fields weren’t any easier to manage. He dreaded the work, hours on end under the scorching sun, the grown wheat scratching and itching his skin. Making sure one of the goats hadn’t escaped into the growing fields wasn’t any fun either. The small farm life his parents had imagined certainly wasn’t imagined for a lone farmer, no matter how manageable they thought it’d be.

Thank God for Jack.

One of the posts near the goats’ barn needed last minute replacing and Jack, even with all the work on his own fields, had made his way to Mateo’s as soon as he could to help him out. Although the work would have taken less long than if he had tried to go at it alone, once Jack had gotten there, he found another dozen things to fix around the farm.

Which is why Mateo was now making his way back to the house to pack up their lunches so they could eat it in between breaks, per Jack’s suggestion. He was sure Mateo would forego the lunch and work himself to the bone come dinner time.

“An impromptu picnic darlin’… it’ll be romantic”,Jack had teased.

“Yeah, real romantic with the smell of goat shit to keep us company”, Mateo had jabbered on while taking measurements of exactly where the fence needed fixing.

Jack had slowly made his way over to Mateo’s side, standing with a hip jutted out next to the barn posts. Sneaking a peek out of the corner of his eye at a dangerous grin gracing Jack’s face, Mateo couldn’t hold back the smile taking over his own nor the warmth creeping up his neck. He could tell Jack was having a good old time seeing his face go beet red.

Sneaking a hand up under Mateo’s sleeveless work shirt, the warmth and scratchiness of the fabric on the back of Jack’s hand a contrast to the sweat dampening Mateo’s back, the mustachioed cowboy had slowly leaned in even further Mateo’s side. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while hon’”, Jack had whispered, his warm breath a gentle breeze on Mateo’s cheek, his carefully trimmed mustache tickling the lone farmer’s damp temple.

Trying to find his footing with Jack’s flirting had taken him a while. Though he still did stumble and make a fool of himself every now and again.

A low and chocked out “I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart”, was all Mateo could manage.

The smell of linden from nearby trees in the yard wafts through the air now, their soft breeze soothing the sweat building up on Mateo’s neck. Seeing the dusty yellow paneled house always put him in a good mood. He had learned to shut out any bad memories that may have been lingering somewhere in his mind over time. He never wanted to remember the place that his mom tried so hard to turn into a warm home, with the disdain he had for a ghost who he tried hard to forget.

The house was just enough for the two of them while he was growing up. A wraparound porch with two rocking chairs, and the view of a couple patches of carnations near the bottom of the stairs leading up to the door greeted him.

Making his way in Mateo first checks his mailbox before giving a small touch to the dash of purple and red carnations, the grass surrounding them carefully stepped around.

Every month he’d get exactly five envelopes. Water, gas, and electricity bills accompanied by the town’s newsletter and a letter from his aunt who refused to use the landline Mateo helped her install in her home.

Right now, standing just inside the doorway, he had six letters in his hand. Walking into the living room’s warm green walls, he counted them carefully, a sense of unexplained dread unfurling throughout his chest. Three bills, the town’s newsletter, his aunt’s letter and another one…from a Mateo Lanzo.

It hadn’t been long since he had last thought about his father.

Not exactly possible to completely forget someone you share a name with.

Not like he hadn’t tried.

Mateo hadn’t been struck dumb like this in a while. So much so that he wasn’t even aware of his feet slowly taking him further inside the house, standing in front of the small table in front of the window overlooking the garden, the rest of the post falling gracelessly on top of it.

He slowly sets the envelope with his name on it on top of the others.

What was he supposed to do? Open it? Read it? And then what?

He couldn’t possibly deal with this now.

Not when there was work to be done around the farm. The farm that he had inherited at such a young age that it would send him into a spiral, choking on his own breath on his bedroom floor. The farm that belonged to his father. The farm that his father left one stuffy summer morning without so much as a goodbye. A birthday cake with candles unlit spending hours on the kitchen table until his mother had had enough and sent it straight into the bin.

He realizes, with a bitter taste on his tongue, that he still hasn’t really come back from that day.

He can’t possibly read it now. Not when Jack is out by the fields, waiting for him under the scorching sun—though he’s probably now lying under a tree’s shade with his hat over his face, just “resting his eyes, darlin’, you’re welcome to join”.

He should pick up their lunch, go to his truck and make his way back to Jack. He wishes so desperately to walk out the door, forgetting the letter to deal with it some other time. But it’s as if his feet are made of lead. He can’t help but just…look at it. As if by sheer will power alone, he could set the offending piece of paper on fire by glaring at it.

How dare he?

After two decades, two hearts broken, one that buried the pain in her eyes and the other that ignored it until it grew too much to handle, now he decides to check up?

What could he have even written that would be worthwhile?

Can’t really know it without reading it though, can you?

He can’t read it now. Not when he knows that it will set him off course, distracting him from all the work that needs to be done by the end of day. Distracting him from Jack.

Jack. As if he could hide anything from him. Jack would know something was up the second he laid eyes on Mateo’s flushed face, eyes reddened from trying to keep irate tears at bay, voice strained from trying not to choke on his words, trying his best at keeping his sobs trapped in his throat.

He knows he’ll regret the moment he goes to pick up a knife from the dish rack, making his way around the kitchen table, knocking his hip to its side, can’t help but slicing the envelope open in one fell swoop, letting his curiosity run his movements.

Breath catching in his throat, he can’t help his eyes run over the disheveled lines.

-----

Jack had never been so worried.

Mateo hadn’t been the same since he came back from the house, hands empty of the lunch Jack was planning on turning into a picnic under the linden trees.

Jack’s standing over the stove, trying his best to not to appear overbearing, focusing on the chili that’s slowly steaming. When he had decided to make the dish, he was hoping he could bring a sense of calm to Mateo’s otherwise silently thundering mood. He sneaks a look at him, sitting on the desk by the window, just outside the kitchen’s open entrance, his soft brown eyes almost black as he stares off into the distance, the sad grimace that had taken over his face during the day a permanent fixture on his handsome farmer’s face.

He had an inkling that something was off in the way Mateo had made his way back. When he had asked if everything was okay, a dangerously level “Yeah, sure” and a deliberate attempt at trying to hide from his gaze had convinced him.

It had simply been too long since Mateo had tried to run from his eyes. Not that he was ever any good at it. Shyness was never really in his nature. Jack had made him out be a natural flirt when they’d first met, taken aback since he would always be the flirty one. Back then, Jack couldn’t help but revel in the fact that Mateo could ever really be interested in a man like him. Apart from the initial uncertainty of the situation, it had been a long time since he’d let himself meet someone—anyone—new in an intimate way. He’d been scared that he might have been getting ahead of himself. Mateo had just offered to buy him one drink, after learning that Jack was to be one of his neighbors. So, he was just being neighborly, surely.

After three rounds of cheap whiskey that turned both their esophaguses to dust, Mateo had offered him a ride home.

Jack couldn’t possibly say no.

Those first few months were filled with intimate moments laced with a haze of uncertainty. Jack had picked up on Mateo’s careful distance with a grain of salt. He could tell that what Mateo needed was enough time and space, and Jack had—for the first time in a long while—been willing to be patient.

He understood better than most, that even though time was fleeting, he couldn’t control the speed at which a heart was willing to go.

Mateo had always needed a bit more time when it came to relationships and opening up. Jack had always been all to willing to give him whatever he needed to be worthy of his trust. Which is how he knows that if he were to push Mateo to talk about whatever was bothering him now could only go sideways.

But something about this was different.

He doesn’t remember ever seeing Mateo so…unmoored.

He had been distracted all afternoon, forgetting to pack their lunches that he had gone to the house for in the first place, avoiding giving full sentence answers to Jack’s worrisome tone that he tried so hard to hide.

“Don’t tell me you ate both our lunches darlin’? I know you said it wouldn’t be romantic with goat shit around but—” Jack had chuckled his way through the question. Mateo had appeared to have remembered the sandwiches growing soggy on the kitchen counter when Jack had brought them up.

“Shit, yeah sorry. I must’ve forgot.”

Avoiding looking at him was Jack’s second clue that something was wrong.

“Nah, it’s alright hon’. You run into someone or somethin’?”

That had drawn a weary sigh from Mateo. “Yeah…something like that”, he had mumbled under his breath making his way over to the wheat fields.

Jack knew better than to ask exactly who Mateo had “run into”. He knew he wasn’t about to get a satisfactory answer when Mateo was so reluctant to even meet his eyes.

The smell of spices filling the house, Jack steps out of his thoughts. The cornbread that was siting warm in the oven—Mateo’s favorite—is taken out, placed on the table. Jack tries his best to keep worry out of his tone as he calls for Mateo, “Dinner’s served, darlin’.”

He tries his best to keep worry out of his eyes, as Mateo seems to be taken away from his mind, numbly making his way to the dinner table.

He fails at not feeling a little bit defeated as Mateo opts not to make a comment on his favorite dinner.

Jack is sure he can wait it out; wait for Mateo’s spirit to settle, see if he decides to tell him about whatever it was that cast a shadow across his eyes.

Jack is sure of him; the rest will never be as important.

-----

Mateo had never been so unsure before.

He can’t help but get lost in his thoughts at the dinner table.

Jack had made his favorite; chili and cornbread, the shared comfort recipe a pleasant surprise that had bonded them tighter years ago. The smell of paprika, garlic and a spice he still couldn’t put his finger on—a secret from Jack’s grandmother—a comforting reprieve from his racing thoughts.

Not that he succeeds at that. He tries to eat, manages to go through a couple bites before giving up, his stomach locked up tight since he read his father’s letter.

How dare he?

After reading the letter a fifth time, deciding that anger was still on the forefront of his mind and body, he had wanted to tear the piece of paper apart and burn it. Forget it ever existed. Forget he ever read it. It was another kind of anger when he realized he couldn’t bring himself to do any of those things. He wanted to burn it to a crisp. He wanted to strip it apart word by word. He wanted to swallow it whole, make the words brand themselves inside every inch of his being. He wanted it to swallow him, giving in to darkest parts of his mind, letting it take root until nothing of him was left.

He wanted to write back.

He wanted to tell him to fuck off and die in a ditch somewhere for all he cared.

He wanted to ask him why he had to be so cruel all his life.

He just wanted to know: why?

Everything he ever felt about the man, everything he tried drowning out over years was slowly swimming their way up to Mateo’s surface.

While his soul grew more restless by the second, he felt suspended in his body as if the world went on moving without him. A nightmarish heaviness seeping inside his bones, he wants to scream, yell, and cry until he stops feeling altogether.

Jack must be a saint, he thinks.

The scrape of a chair on the tiled floor makes his eyes go up as Jack gets up from his seat to start clearing the table and washing the dishes. Mateo gets up to help. Jack stops him as he tries to pick up his plate.

“I got this, darlin’. Why don’t you go relax on the porch a little? I’ll bring us a couple beers when I’m done and we can drown out the day, huh? What do you say?”

A small nod was all Mateo could manage, still not looking at Jack long enough to break.

He slowly drags his feet to the porch, letting his limbs weigh down on the rocking chair that was held by duct tapes and a prayer. He tries to take a big breath, filling his lungs with fresh air, his nose taking in every note of peace and calmness that nature holds. Jack had been nothing but patient all throughout helping Mateo with the barn, a worrisome look on his face as he had left to tend to his own farm, the promise of coming over and making dinner firmly in place. He had no idea how grateful Mateo was that he hadn’t pushed him for what happened on the spot. Even when he had every reason to.

He wonders if any of the others before Jack would be as understanding of the turmoil wreaking havoc in his mind. Not that he had ever let them in enough to find out. For a man whose heart never ceased to seek a lover’s warmth, it was somehow also the one thing he kept under strict lock and key. Can’t break something that you never had.

Or so he thought.

He remembers them, then.

Dylan, who he could only describe as his first love, with sand burnt hair and eyes that revealed his heart without abandon, he was one of the first people who Mateo felt free with for the first time in his life. Two teenage boys, limbs unsteady, hearts even more so. One who could have all the girls his heart desired and the other who would rather hide beneath the other’s shadow, hoping dreadfully that maybe it would be his heart the former desired.

Lovers in a small town never really stayed a secret; but Mateo and Dylan had no other choice.

He remembers then; 16 and as reckless as he can be, driving aimlessly to the edge of town, windows drawn down, watching how the wind rustled those blonde locks more than he dared watched the road. Not that the road went anywhere important. They would only have the courage to go as far as the century old oak tree that every small town seemed to have, trying their damnedest to imagine being anywhere but here.

It was in that same car, parked under the big oak tree that they shared their many firsts. Their first kiss, tentative and shy meeting eager and impatient. The first time they realized salvation could be found in the embrace of another. Their first heartbreak.

Mateo shuts his eyes, Dylan’s tears a distant image he still can’t bear to remember.

He lets his mind wander. Blonde streaks of hair and teary eyes make way for a pair of earth warmed browns, the color matching perfectly with a head of curly hair that left the breeze of lavenders wherever she went.

When he’d met Leonie at 25, his heart had already been broken once and Mateo had tried his best to keep its fluttering at bay.

He never could fool his heart.

Leonie, with sparks in her eyes and ideals the size of the world on her heart. Leonie, whose eyes never failed to mask her anger and sadness at the cruelty of the world around them, yet whose soul held so much hope for the future. Despite the surefootedness in her bones, her heart had always been soaring for all the time he knew her.

Leonie, with that wicked grin that would have him on his knees. Leonie, who could kiss him stupid and make his heart soar along with hers. Leonie, who could see straight through him, all his wants and desires, never once judging him for the pieces of him not yet ready to meet the world.

Even though he knew it was coming, it was a different kind of sadness when he realized she was not going to stay forever tethered to his side. Even though he had tried so hard to silence the prayers for her to stay maybe just a little bit longer trying to burst free from his chest.

Her eyes bright and shining, a little impatience in her steps with her heart on her sleeve but guarded nonetheless, she would not rest until she met the world.

He had driven her to the airport himself. It was then that he had learned how to keep his tears to the road back home.

He had found a semblance of stability five years after she’d left. A stability that didn’t necessarily scare him at first.

One night, after the loneliness of the farm had seeped so deep into his bones and he had no other choice but to drown out the silence with the steady hum of a burning liquor, Mateo had found himself in a dive bar two hours out of town. About an hour after downing two glasses of the liquid, he had found himself rustling in scratchy motel sheets with a man who looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Maybe it was the solidarity of the feeling that drew Mateo to Frank’s arms.

Frank, with his broad shoulders and work roughened hands. Frank, who was also running from the lonely life of a rancher, newly widowed, grieving a soul gone too soon.

Neither ever visited the other’s town…neither really had an inkling to. It was at this halfway point that they first drowned out drinks as if distant friends were catching up, and then driving to a motel and drowning out their sorrows in the other’s warm embrace. He still desperately wishes to forget that dingy bar’s name.

It was Frank’s way of touching him that always had Mateo’s heart in a vice grip. Calloused hands that never strayed from making him feel cherished. Their need to make the other feel good would always end up in both burly men on a heap in tangled sheets.

Mateo knew he was in danger when it had become harder and harder to peel himself away from Frank. He thought he was doing them both a favor when he didn’t ever go back to that bar. Maybe it was a good thing, he thought, that he had left Frank’s life the way he came in. Without a message, without any trace. He had learned not to shed any tears by then.

His heart never really did heal from that one.

Not until a pair of deep brown eyes met his own about four years ago, introducing himself as the new farmer moving into their town. Jack had made quick work of his late aunt’s farm with all the enthusiasm he could muster after losing the last family that he truly loved.

It would be Mateo who would end up covering him with a warmth Jack had abandoned all hope of feeling long ago.

Mateo gave him that hope; and without knowing Jack had done the same.

Kindred spirits, Mateo’s mother would call them if she could see them.

We’d drive her insane, he can’t help but think. When had Jack’s voice started to mingle so seamlessly with his own inside his head? The sharpness in Mateo’s chest softens with the thought.

He looks over at Jack sitting next to him. Face turned toward the horizon, mustache stained with the beer that’s grown lukewarm in his hand, he is still the most beautiful man Mateo has ever seen.

When they’d first met, Mateo couldn’t help but stare at Jack without abandon. From the subtle curls trying to peek out beneath his hat, the way those whiskey brown eyes sparkling with mirth, to the crow’s feet that graced his eyes, he had Mateo a goner from the beginning. In those first few months of getting to know one another, both out in the fields and in each other’s embrace, Mateo could see the life lived within Jack, hiding in the wrinkles that adorned his face. He had pondered on how he could add to those wrinkles perpetuating his every expression, along with the lines and dimples that came out of hiding whenever he smiled.

Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be a mark of a life well lived on this man’s face.

The thought hadn’t scared him as much as he ever thought it would.

-----

They sit next to each other on the old swinging chairs on the back porch, overlooking first the yard and then the fields, each with a cheap bottle of beer in their hands, a couple empty ones sitting on the creaking floorboards beneath them.

The old radio just inside the doorway gives a crackling sound before finding its footing, the crooning of Karen Dalton making way for John Denver’s.

Time might’ve been what Mateo needed but sometimes a little push could go a long way. Jack had learned that back when he finally came clean to Mateo about being in too deep, laying all his fears at the altar of Mateo’s soul, praying to a love long lost that maybe he didn’t mess up his second chance at happiness.

He had never been gladder to have taken a leap of faith.

So, he asks.

“You going to tell me about what happened on your way back to the house today or are we still playin’ three monkeys, baby?”

Mateo finally let his eyes meet his. Jack always knew when to steer him to shore. He was actually surprised he had waited this long to bring it up.

Mateo’s heart breaks a little at the thought that he had been nothing but chummy at this loving man all day. The man who hadn’t left his side all this time.

“I got a letter in the mail today, from someone I thought was long gone”, he chokes out, surprising himself with his own honesty, “Someone I thought I wouldn’t ever hear from again.”

Ah, then. There it was. The one part of himself Mateo had been adamant about keeping strictly under covers. It’s not as if he hadn’t ever talked about his father to Jack; he had glazed over the worst of it in the still of the night a couple times, when sleep was inexplicably absent from his bedroom as the sky turned from dusk to dawn.

Jack knows about the infamous Mateo Lanzo. The farmer turned husband, then father, then a John Doe, to a deadbeat divorced father. He knows about the heartbreak that killed Mateo’s late mother, and the heartbreak still suffered by the man he loves.

Jack also knows something about patience. How Mateo had more of it than he gave himself credit for, especially when it came to feelings of conflict. He simply gave himself too much time not to feel but to bury everything that ached in his chest.

Jack remembers how it had taken about a year and a half to muster up the courage to share how he’d lost his wife and child himself. Mateo could already see the scars; both the ones that he could spend hours tracing with his fingertips, his lips, his tongue, and those that would only be visible in certain moments. In the swift pain that clouded the spark in his eyes whenever he saw a jet-black haired woman with a child, in the hitch of breath he took whenever he talked about life back in Kentucky, in the still of the night whenever he woke up with a quiet gasp and sweat dampened hair, eyes looking for a face long gone…

He had always appreciated Mateo not pushing him to talk about them. Or more so, pushing him to talk about them in the right moments.

This, this seemed like a right moment for Jack to do the pushing. He could help. Whatever it was that he held back about his father, he could help Mateo carry it.

“What’s he saying then?”

Mateo bristles.

Jack knew it wouldn’t be easy to talk about, but he couldn’t help but hear a voice inside his head yelling out that he deserved to know. Jack also knew that that’s not what Mateo deserves.

So, he waits.

The shock of the question, of being seen, wears off when Mateo finally answers, “A bunch of nonsense really.”

Another attempt at hiding gone sideways as Mateo sees Jack raise a single eyebrow, as if he’s challenging him.

He never could hide from him long.

“He wants to talk. If I’m up for it that is”, Mateo sighs out.

“Well, that don’t sound like complete nonsense to me”, Jack drawls carefully; it always takes a little coaxing for Mateo to give any details. “Did he write why he wants to talk now? After, what, twenty-five years?”

Mateo corrects him a little too quickly, “Twenty-seven.” He tries to swallow down the knot that doesn’t seem to go away from his throat. He wants to talk about this, just not with snot and tears all over the place.

Anger flares up inside him then. This man, who left him and his mother to fend for themselves, without so much as the courtesy of saying goodbye, sending his mother down a spiral thinking that the worst might’ve happened to the man she loved until the young postman handed her trembling hands divorce papers. Oh, how Mateo wished the worst had happened to his father after all.

No. This man did not deserve his tears. His heartbreak.

How dare he?

“I hate him. I never could say it to my mother, she wouldn’t let me. Still loved that bastard after everything he put her through. But I hated him then. Still do now.”

“You know, you don’t have to do anyth—”

“I know that”, Mateo spits out, harsher than he ever intended.

God, he just wants to go back. To last night, after a long day’s work, drifting off into a comfortable sleep with the man he loves. He would even take going back to this morning when life seemed just a little bit easier than it does now. He wishes he didn’t ever see that letter, willing to have let it go to trash unknowingly with the junk mail.

He knows he’s being a wimp.

He knows that dealing with this letter is more than dealing with just a piece of paper.

He also knows that Jack just wants to help. In whatever way Mateo would allow him to.

“Talking about him…it’s not easy. I want to, with you, I really do. I just—", he stops. He feels the sobs climb up from his chest up to his throat, catching in the wind of the breaths he desperately tries to take. “I don’t feel anything but anger when it comes to him. And” he takes a deep breath, sighs out, “…it scares me.”

“Scares you how?”, Jack asks.

He can’t stop the tears that blur his vision. “Scares me how comfortable I am in it. It’s constant. I don’t think I can ever remember a time where I was happy with him there. But after a while it grew dull, you know? The anger, the loathing. So, it got easy to just…let it grow. But I never wanted it to poison me. Him not being here helped with that though. After a while I just liked to think that he died. Not like I could do anything about him being gone, confronting him.” Not like I ever thought about it, Mateo thought with a poorly veiled grimace.

“You have thought about it though”, Jack offers.

Mateo’s first instinct is to try and deny. Jack stops him short.

“Don’t act as if there’s a chance that I don’t know you Teo. You have no idea how many times I’ve seen you for you. I know you. And that’s okay darlin’. I’m here ‘cause I like what I see”, Jack declares with a smile that can only be described as in love, his eyes crinkling around the corners.

Mateo sees himself in those lines.

His heart stutters a beat at the realization.

They’d said their “I love you”s a long while ago. But something told Mateo that whenever he uttered the words from now on, it would hold a heavier meaning. A heaviness he felt elated to carry.

“What’d you imagine saying to him when you were younger?”, Jack implored, eyes almost pleading, as if to say “Come on, baby, you can let me in. Promise I’ll make it worth your while”.

So, Mateo sucks in a lungful of air, the smell of linden trees waltzing through the fields with an early autumn breeze.

He remembers his mom and how she would let him play around for hours running up and around the branches of that same linden tree. The same tree that she would pick from to make tea with whenever Mateo got close to catching a cold after running around and sweating through his shirt. The same tree that he used to climb up and hide in whenever his father’s voice became too loud to handle.

Mateo squeezes his eyes shut against the memory.

He sucks in another breath. Lets it out.

He wants to unfold.

Jack wants—and deserves—to help.

So, he begins.

-----

Waking up was slow going this morning.

They’d gone to bed later, much later, than they normally would.

Last night—and well into dawn—was the first time Mateo had been at his most vulnerable. If you asked either one of them, they would both admit that this had been a long time coming, but that it was worth it. Every scar, every hurt, every shortcoming, every fear was laid bare before Jack’s heart. He hadn’t faltered in his promise; every piece of Mateo that fell away to reveal a new part of the man he loved, Jack would quietly pick up the piece, holding it dear to his soul. Mateo hadn’t realized when his tears had started to flow without restraint.

He had told him all. How it felt as if his father was the one piece still missing from him, how he felt guilty at the prospect on behalf of his mother who kept going as long as she did with a broken heart; how he’d been a coward for most of his life, breaking hearts first because he couldn’t bare to live through someone else breaking him again; how even though he is filled with anger, it is actually the thought of forgiving and being forgiven that makes him tremble with fear, filling the darkest corners of his soul.

Jack had listened and held his hand with a firm grip, his weight never wavering; at once Mateo felt both the weight of his past lifting from his shoulders and never feeling so grounded before.

He was intent on being the rock Mateo leaned on.

And Mateo leaned.

There was Jack’s voice echoing inside his head as they’d both finally drifted off to sleep.

A suggestion that he actually thought would be useful.

“Why don’t you just write to him? Not to send out a reply but just to let it all out, maybe. Take it one step at a time. Write, see how you feel, and then decide what to do with it. Chop it up and burn it or send it. It’s up to you darlin’. He doesn’t get to dictate how you feel about this. You don’t owe him anything. If you do end up wanting to burn it, I’ll bring the matches. If you end up wanting to send it, I’ll find you the stamps”, Jack had said when they woke up, voice sleep rough but mind alert as ever.

Jack had learned to find the ideal path to any solution long before he and Mateo had met.

He used to be a strategist; using every piece of information he had to his advantage was something he’d not only needed to learn but excel at. Under much undesirable conditions, working for his life by putting it in danger for someone else. They’d call it “the greater good”; though, toward the end he’d realized it was anything but. By the end, he knew better.

He didn’t need to be a strategist now. He just needed to be there for the one person he loved, however he might need him to.

Mateo could find solace in Jack for that kindness alone.

He takes the afternoon to try and focus on his small garden of flowers in the yard. His hat on his head, the afternoon sun still scorching at his back, he feels his mind clear as he tends to the soil, clearing out the weed and the leaves and flowers that have withered over time. He feels tethered here, hands and knees digging into the dirt.

He always treated any place out in the yard that had ever been tended to by his mother as gifts left from her. He knew exactly how to care for them, how much water and sun they’d need; he had learned how to care for them from her. Just as she’d learned from his father.

A blurred memory unfurls suddenly; his mother planting daisies on the edge of the yard while his father gives them their first splash of water.

He decides not to think of it any further, trying his best not to muddle the clarity his mind had gathered from the earth. His work done, flowers cared for and watered, he makes his way inside the house.

Inside, his mother’s desk in front of the window catches the setting sun’s last rays, gathering heat into its old woods.

-----

His mother had never told him that the flower beds were a joint effort. Never reminded him of the fact. A symbol of their love, she’d always thought. And for a while it was. Those early days of their marriage taking care of the flowers together was the brightest part of her days.

It was a different kind of heartbreak when he stopped caring, leaving her to take care of them by herself.

She had tried so hard and for so long to keep them alive. She had hoped Mateo would have more luck when it came not just to flowers but to affairs of the heart as well. Having seen him run from a happiness the world seemed intent on being against enraged her more than she ever let on. She had wished with a tenacity few possessed, that her son could one day be fearless in his love. It was as if only she could see that her boy held so much love in his bones.

If only he knew that his heart would one day be his savior.

It is with that heart that he sits at the old wooden table his mother used to sit at, writing letters to distant family, using it as a knitting station when her hands grew too restless to write.

It is with that heart he now picks up a pen and paper, a warm baritone voice echoing in his ears, encouragement dripping from every imagined syllable.

It is with that heart he now puts pen to paper; and bares his soul.

#jack daniels #agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x original character #jack daniels x m!oc #jack daniels x male original character

90 notes · View notes

spacecowgirl237 · 15 days

Text

I missed my cowboy. 🐴🖤

3 notes · View notes

enniewritesathing · 1 year

Photo

[teaser]

talkin’ about it

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #simblr #oc: john #oc: brian #oc pair: healing hands #well beginning anyway #like i can't see john drinking whiskey so he's got a little beer #...on the other hand i'd think he'd have a glass out of solidarity but nursing it for a very long time #i had to shrink the jack's bottle lol #anyway i like this lighting... was gonna do it around dusk but jury's out on that

11 notes · View notes

lostinsideourminds · 1 year

Text

Trying to brush up on my anatomy skills with some self-indulgent Whiskey X Oc content.

Two things I’ve learned through this,

1) Hands are hard to draw

2) Side profiles are even harder

Bonus third thing, I’ve got no clue how to draw Jack ;-;

Not plannin’ on finishing this one anytime soon so enjoy the sketch :)

#jack daniels #agent whiskey x oc #agent whiskey #kingsmen golden circle #Jack wiskey daniels #agent whiskey x reader #art #digital art

4 notes · View notes

deeranddragons · 2 years

Text

Was frustrated I couldn’t ride a brahmin so I spent 30 hours drawing this to let Whiskey Jack live my animal friendship dream

#there’s probably a mod but I didn’t think to look #bc I never mod my games #fallout new vegas #fallout #fallout art #fallout courier #art #digital art #procreate #fnv #fnv art #fan art #oc: whiskey jack

3K notes · View notes

wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 10

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: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 17.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Fluffy Jack being old fashioned, low key voice kink, reference to food play, panty ripping because we are shameless, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, unexpected exhibitionist/voyeur kink Summary: You and Jack take a step forward on the last night of your family’s stay in Louisville, and Tex returns home with his newly minted soulmate just in time for Bobby’s going away party. Notes: I love getting to a sex scene and being surprised to find a character has a kink that I didn’t expect 😂 As always, the chosen gif has no reflection on the reader’s appearance. It’s the emotion that counts.

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

On the last day of your family's stay in Louisville, an adventure to the Louisville Slugger factory and museum ended with personalized souvenir bats for everyone and extremely good moods all around. Tomorrow morning your siblings will go their respective ways to return home and your parents will go on to spend a few days at Dollywood, and you and Jack will take another step toward your new normal. The first therapy session went well, and you have another scheduled for next week, so really...it's remarkable how settled you feel considering it was only a few days ago that you were a literal captive in an abattoir in New York City. It seems an entire lifetime away, except for the nightmares, which even seem to dissipate when you wake up from them in Jack's arms in Jack's bed.

“How about we grill tonight?” Jack suggests to you, scratching his head. It’s been a trial trying to keep you from working too hard to play hostess to your family. He can see how much you love it, but you are still recovering.

"Are you thinking burgers, or something more elaborate?" Hanging out in the backyard has been everyone's favorite place to be anyway. A little backyard barbecue for their last night in Louisville might be a fun idea. You won't point out - this time - that he's chosen a method of cooking that he excels at instead of you.

“Maybe a little bit of both?” Jack offers. “Hamburgers for the kiddos and I can introduce your family to Kentucky barbecue. Just gotta start the smoker.”

"We can do that." Sitting on the porch swing with him while your brother-in-law plays with the kids, you tip your head back to lean on his shoulder. "I can get my sister to help me with cornbread and coleslaw. Since I know you'll watch me like a hawk if I try to do it myself."

“You are supposed to be resting and I caught you in the kitchen first thing this morning.” Jack huffs at you, narrowing his eyes playfully. He doesn’t want you to feel smothered but this time is good for you to rest.

"I am resting, honey." The mere minutes of time it took you to put together a tray of things for bagels and some fruit salad compared to what you would normally do is laughable, but you know Jack is just trying to take care of you. "I didn't even start baking for Bobby’s party tomorrow. I had like six different things planned but I promise I’ve narrowed it down to only things I can do tomorrow morning."

“I swear, you don’t know the meaning of rest.” Jack grumbles. “I’m going to have to whisk you away to a private island where the only thing you can do is drink whiskey and lay in the sun.”

"Sounds like a very nice vacation." You grin, having grown to love the difference in Jack's affectionate grumbles versus when he is actually upset. When it's affectionate, it means you can tease him. "I don't think I've taken a vacation since I was still in high school."

“That’s a damn shame.” He huffs at you, watching you stick your tongue out at him. He reaches out and taps the tip of your tongue with his finger.

"Never had the time or the money." Shrugging makes it seem like it's not a big deal, especially because you don't want to get bogged down in anything too serious when Jack has been in such a good mood today. "No rest - or vacations - for the wicked."

“Then once you get the restaurant rollin’ we’ll have to go somewhere.” Jack decides. “You’ll tell me where you’ve always wanted to go and that’s what we’ll do.”

There are so many places you've dreamed of going. Places you've dreamed of seeing and food you've dreamed of eating, that you shrug your shoulders and sigh wistfully. "Japan, Australia, Morocco, France, Scotland, Thailand, Mexico, Egypt... we could go anywhere and I'd enjoy it. Just...as long as we do it together."

Jack chuckles, opening his arms and inviting you in for a hug. Those have become second nature for the two of you now. “So one big world tour.”

"Maybe." The sound and vibration of his laugh warms through you like summer sun. "Maybe we'll choose a different place every year for as long as we want."

“I like that.” He knows you would want to try the food. Spend time in each location and really learn them. “We could do that easily.”

"Then that's what we'll do." Curled into his arms, with your head on his shoulder and breath mingling together, it's easy to think of the future in such wide open terms. Like anything is possible. With him, it really feels like it is. "Maybe one day we'll find a favorite, but we'll try as many different places as we want."

“So you okay with me cookin’ tonight?” Jack asks you softly. “Catering to you for once?”

"As long as you don't stop me from helping just a little." When he frowns you put on a pronounced pout, being playful if nothing else. "I hate having nothing to do Jack, you know that. I promise to have help and to keep it to a minimum."

“Just the sides.” He tells you pointedly. “You won’t touch the grill or the smoker.”

"Deal." One hand held out to him to seal the deal, the other is twined through his at your shoulder. Anyone who could see the two of you now would be astonished to hear that you were ever at odds - all they would see is a couple that is completely enchanted with each other.

He grins and winks at you. “Now you get to experience some of my cookin’ and I expect you to be truthful.” He warns you. “No tryin’ to baby my feelin’s.”

"I promise to be honest." You give him a mock salute with a very serious face. "But I believe in you. You have too good of a palette to be a terrible cook."

“I make my own sauce and rubs.” He boasts, smirking slightly and winking at you.

"Oh yeah?" He's like a peacock almost instantly, chest puffed up and chin tilted to put his nose proudly in the air, and you can't help but giggle when he's playful like this. "You planning on showing off for me? Give me a run for my money so we're the ones all our friends want a dinner invitation from?"

"Absolutely." Jack teases. "They will want to come over when I'm cookin' for free and come to haunt your restaurant and pay dearly."

"Just think of what we'll be able to achieve when we join forces." Placing a kiss on both of his cheeks, you drop one more on his forehead before sitting back in his arms again. "This house seems made for summer parties. It's going to be fun."

"I think that was the point." Jack admits as he looks around the house that had quickly come to feel more like a home with you and your family invading every nook and cranny.

"If summer comes and I haven't driven you totally crazy, we'll have to throw a party." Even though you know he has a summer birthday, you would never bring it up now that you know why he doesn't celebrate the day. It would just be a nice summer get together for friends, nowhere near that day in August.

"Whenever you want, sugar." Jack drops a kiss on your nose and smirks. "Now....let me go get everything ready for you to have the best barbecue you've ever had." He promises.

"Yes, sir." You shift away from him and stretch, tossing him a wink before you skip down the porch steps to join your siblings in sunbathing near what will soon be the vegetable garden. As soon as you have the time and the supplies to make it one. "You guys sick of me yet?" You laugh, knowing that the three of you rarely got tired of each other's company. "Ready to go home tomorrow?"

"I've decided I'm going to move here." Your sister is kidding, but she smiles lazily over at you as she lounges in the deck chair that she has claimed as her own for the entire trip. "There is something about this place that I can't quite clock, but it's the safest I've ever felt anywhere."

"Now you see why I fell in love with it so fast." Nothing would be happier than for Eliza and Ed and the kids to move down to Louisville, but you know they're happy where they are. Only a new job would get them to even consider it, and Statesman isn't exactly hiring doctors at the moment. "One day here and I knew it was going to be the right decision."

Your parents are down at the distillery again, your father falling in love with Statesman all over again and your mother shamelessly indulging him while you are here. Eliza looks around and then stares at you seriously. "Is that why you came running to New York looking heartbroken?"

"It's..." You blow out a breath, falling back on the lawn chair beside her. "It's a complicated story."

"And?" She senses that it's not exactly something that you want to talk about right now, so she decides not to press. "You're sure you are happy here?"

“Jack and I had trouble in the beginning, you know that.” Your sister, above anyone else, knows that you struggled with where your heart lay when you first arrived at Statesman. She was on the receiving end of every phone call. “We…we had a fight. That’s why I went to the city. We had a screaming match and I got overwhelmed. It was just supposed to be a couple of days fucking around New York with Matt to take my mind off things and…” When you shrug, it’s half so you can avoid talking about being kidnapped and half to keep up the front that what you were involved in is an ongoing investigation. “Things got out of hand. But we’re talking now. And Jack and I are making things work. So…I actually am happy. It just took a little while to get here.”

“I still don’t understand why he was so resistant to another soulmate.” Eliza huffs, still not completely trusting that this is the whole story. More like your mother than she’s ever willing to admit.

“He loved Abigail a lot. Isn’t that understandable?” Since Jack had said he was okay with giving your family the old story of what happened to his first wife and unborn child - what he had thought was the truth for so long - so don’t worry about talking to them about it. Your brother and sister do their best to be understanding and sympathetic people in general. “He felt like it was being disloyal to her memory to have another. And considering second soulmates are supposed to be a myth anyway? I get it.”

“I guess.” She frowns and sighs. “I just love you, you know that right? That’s the only reason I’m worrying.”

“I know.” You loop your arm around her and hug her tight. “I love you too. And you’re entitled to kick his ass if he ever makes me sad again, how about that?”

“You know I will.” That is a promise. You are too loving to have your heart stomped on by some – albeit hot – cowboy.

“But either way, he’s making dinner for us tonight.” The promise of good food will perk up anyone in your family, and you laugh when both of your siblings immediately sit up. “I’m taking volunteers to help with sides.”

“I’ll help you.” Your brother and sister both immediately volunteer. The way you have been napping has them both aware that something has happened to cause their normally tireless sister to be a little slower.

“With three sets of hands we might even manage to make some dessert without Jack worrying.” You flash them both a smile. “I know you’ll be back for the opening in barely a couple of weeks, but I’m so glad you guys came to visit.”

“Of course we were coming.” Eliza looks almost offended that you would even think that they wouldn’t come. “We were worried sick until your co-worker called us to tell us you were okay. Mom almost came through the phone at her.”

“I’m sorry you were worried.” It sits like a lump in your throat, the heaviness of what really happened, but for once you’re glad you can’t tell them the truth. If they knew what had really happened to you last weekend they would never let you out of their sight again. Just like Jack is doing. “Everything is okay now. That’s what matters.”

“Yeah but you know them.” Your brother rolls his eyes like he wasn’t the one who had filed the report. “They like to worry.”

“Sure, Matty. It was all them.” You shake your head and pinch his side. “I’ll thank mom and dad for contacting the police, then.”

“Shut up.” He grumbles at you, giving you a pout of brotherly affection. Of course he had been worried. You had come to him so upset and on the verge of shutting down and then disappeared.

"Love you too, big brother." It might be said with teasing, but you reach over to give him a hug and pull your siblings up with you to head into the kitchen.

Jack, for his part, takes the role of providing your meal very seriously. He had Champ keep the brisket over at his house to marinate last night and it’s not too long before it’s put on the smoker to fill the back yard with its mouth watering scent.

When your parents eventually wander back from their last distillery tour and tasting, the sides are ready, dessert is done, and Jack very nearly has the brisket finished. Better timing couldn't have been achieved if he had timed it all out with care.

"I don't know what to tell you, kiddo," your mother grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head when she hugs you. "But it smells like your soulmate has a talent for the only cooking skill you never worked on."

“She doesn’t know how to grill?” Jack asks as he pops back into the kitchen to get a pan. “I’m surprised about that.”

“It’s less doesn’t know how and more that the work never went into mastering it.” Your father shrugs, leaning back against the counter when Jack comes in. “Not a lot of barbecue in classical French cuisine, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that she isn’t lacking for barbecue when she’s got a hankerin’ for it.” Jack tells him, knowing that he would keep the smoker running if you wanted him to.

“There was…maybe a year or so? When she was a teenager.” He looks to your mother for clarification, who nods. “Where she would always request it. Dinners, special occasions, everything. Any time we were eating as a family she wanted to go for barbecue.” Your father chuckles at the memory, obviously a fond one now. “Turned out she had a crush on one of the people who owned the one barbecue place in our little town.”

Jack chuckles and shakes his head, totally able to see it. “I don’t blame her if that’s the case. I’d eat a lot of anything she makes to spend more time with her.”

“I think,” your father intones, crossing his arms and glancing at his wife - his own soulmate - before turning back to Jack. “That maybe it’s prudent for all of us to have a chat before we leave?”

For a moment, the small, indulgent smile on Jack’s face slips. Worried that your parents might not approve of the relationship after all. Despite being polite, that doesn’t mean that they had any intention of allowing Jack with their daughter. “Why don’t you follow me outside.” He glances towards the kitchen where you and your siblings are laughing. “More privacy.”

The smack on the arm your mother gives her husband before he turns to follow Jack outside is pointed, and she hangs back to sit with her grandchildren before they need their nap. This conversation is not her idea, and she doesn’t think it’s necessary.

When Jack finds just your father following him, he turns back towards the outdoor kitchen. “Beer? Or does the conversation warrant something stronger?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Beer is good.” He’s not trying to scare the younger man, after all. Not trying, but if Jack does happen to shake in his boots a little, Jeff won’t be upset about that.

“Sounds good.” Jack moves over to the small fridge and pulls out two beers. Popping the cap off the tops and handing one to your father. Waiting for the other man to start the conversation as he takes a pull of the beer.

A sip of his drink comes first, but Jeff doesn't get in Jack's way as he moves around the grill area to tend to dinner. "Look," he leans back against the porch railing. "You're not kids. I'm not trying to intimidate you or dictate your actions, or anything like that. But she's my little girl and I'd be remiss if I didn't at least talk to you about her."

“I understand where you are coming from.” Jack does, he really does. He probably would have the same conversation if he was the father of a daughter. “What would you like to know?”

"It's less what I want to know and more of what I want to make sure that you know." He admits, taking another sip of his beer before he puts the bottle down beside him. "She was never the little girl that played princess first, or wrote her boyfriend's name out on her notebooks, or planned out her wedding with her friends. Not that we ever saw. But her baby sister...when Eliza wanted to do those things, it would make her sister just light up. It was like..." he sighs, taking another sip and looking for the words. "Like she was waiting for permission to dream. I know we raised her to be quick and smart and self-sufficient, but I'd hate to think that she's gone into adulthood with that same hesitancy. Just...just make sure she talks to you, Jack. That she opens up about what she wants. Because the only answer she ever used to give was that she wanted her own restaurant, and I know there's got to be more than that."

“I will.” Jack nods, frowning slightly as he stares at his bottle, the heat already making the condensation slide down the sides. “I’ve not been a good soulmate so far.” It might not be the best idea to be this honest, but he feels like he needs to be. “I was a pretty rotten one, and I hurt her. But–” he sighs. “I want nothing more than to make her happy. To give her the world if I can. To travel to all the places she wants to go, do the things that she wants to do. I want to make a life with her.”

"You'll make it up to her." Your father doesn't even make it a suggestion, it's more like an order. "Or else she won't have anything to do with you. I learned that when she was a teenager."

“Everyday.” Jack promises easily, taking another swig of his beer as he tries to dispel the image of your limp body in the back of that SUV. “Lucky for me, she’s got an amazing capacity for forgiveness.”

"Gets that from her mother." He huffs an awkward kind of chuckle in return. "I hold a grudge like a motherfucker. But those women? Angels. Who knows how they manage it." Both men are silent for a moment, letting the thought linger between them. "Are there plans?" He asks after the quiet lingers a little too long and becomes awkward. "You and her, have you made plans for that life you want to build?"

“I imagine there will be soon.” Jack frowns slightly, not sure how much you’ve told your father. “I’ve been married before. My soulmate. She was– she was killed while pregnant.” Jack explains quietly. “But I do remember asking her daddy for permission to marry her.” His eyes met your father’s. “When we are ready for that, I expect I’ll be makin’ a trip up to see you.”

“Honestly a little surprised you’re not asking right now,” your father admits, holding Jack’s gaze. “But I’m not going to rush you.”

“I want her to be comfortable with the idea.” Jack admits softly. “And I want to make sure that my past doesn’t haunt her.”

“Most people wouldn’t wait for the adjustment period.” As much as Jeff thinks of it as his job to protect his three kids, he knows you and your siblings are all grown. The oldest has been married and divorced and the youngest has a husband and two kids of her own. You have always been the question mark in the family, right up until he saw you with Jack. There’s no question in his mind now that this is the person you’ve been waiting for - second soulmate or otherwise. “I tell you what, Jack.” He sighs, glancing back over his shoulder at the house to make sure you’re not nearby. “When you’re ready, I have her grandmother’s ring in the safe at home. It’s nothing too flashy, but her grandma Jane meant the world to her and I know she’d be happy to wear it.”

“Thank you.” Jack flashes your father a grin and sighs in relief. “I have a feeling that time will come sooner than I imagine, but we’ll see.” He chuckles.

“Whenever the two of you decide is best.” Is it the life he imagined for you from the time you were just a little peanut in his arms? Maybe not. But you’re not the woman he imagined all those years ago, either. You’re better — you’re you.

Jack nods, grateful that it’s not a different kind of conversation but that’s not a bad thing. “I have talked to her about moving in.” He offers your father. “So maybe I should ask you for your permission.” He ponders.

The other man chuckles quietly, feeling like he’s listening to Jack ponder out loud. “Should I bring the ring down when we come back for the opening?”

“I think that would be very appropriate.” Jack agrees, frowning slightly as he wonders if you would feel overwhelmed if he proposed to you after the opening of your restaurant or if it would just add happiness to the occasion. “So let me formally ask you.” Jack sets his bottle down and straightens his shoulders. “Your daughter is my soulmate, and I love her. I want to protect her and cherish her with everything that I am. May I have your blessing to ask her to marry me?”

“Keep making her happy. And keep her talking to you.” Your father puts down his own bottle and straightens up, putting his hand out to Jack. “And for the love of god, don’t elope. Her mother would be broken-hearted.”

“Never.” Jack can promise that. He didn’t do it with Abigail and he wouldn’t take that away from you. Even if it was something small and intimate, he wants you to have the wedding you want.

“Then you have my blessing, for whatever kind of life you want to build together.” You would huff and call them both old-fashioned for this, but the truth is that this is just two people trying their best to take care of you. “Be good to her, Jack.”

He hadn’t been. He knows this. However, he planned on making sure that you were never distressed or upset because of him again. “Yes sir.” He nods solemnly, the seriousness of the moment not lost on him. “Thank you.”

“There you two are.” It hadn’t taken an extreme amount of effort to find them, but the table is set and everything is ready except for the meat. “Do you need another set of hands to help, babe?”

“Nawww, I should have it.” Jack immediately turns towards you with a slow, sugary smile. A little emotional from the conversation and he pulls you close for a quick kiss. “About to pull everything off.”

“Whatever you two were talking about, keep it up,” you tease, not the least bit embarrassed to steal a second kiss with your father right there. Jack is so soft right now that you wouldn’t sacrifice it for anything.

******

Dinner turned out to be a complete success, everyone raving over Jack’s barbecue. Making him smirk at you and volunteering his services whenever you wanted some for a special at your restaurant when it opens. Now with everyone’s bellies full and the evening winding down, Jack sends you ahead to bed to get ready while he finishes cleaning up the kitchen, figuring you might like to shower or soak in a bath.

Sometimes you swear you would have accepted the invitation to move in with Jack based on the master bathroom alone. The powerful shower with seemingly unlimited hot water is the best you’ve ever experienced, and the tub is definitely big enough for two people to lounge in. He had insisted that you bring over your bathrobe when you brought a few things from your house for the week, so now it’s hanging from the rack beside the marble countertop for when you step out. Smelling like him is a small bonus, considering Jack’s soap and shampoo smell like they were made for a lumberjack who stands on top of mountains in the crisp, cold morning to watch sunrise, and you end up just luxuriating in the hot water until you hear him come into the bedroom. That’s when you shut off the water and step out, wrapping yourself up in the terry cloth robe like a warm hug.

Walking into the bedroom finds it empty and Jack smirks as he looks towards the bathroom, knowing you are in there. He needs to shower, since he smells like a smoker, but he can wait until you are out. Instead, he's standing around looking at the small changes that you have made to his once cold bedroom. Things that are almost overlooked but it's very obvious to a man who has been a bachelor for nearly twenty years. The small notebook on the side of the bed you had claimed, where you write recipe ideas when they come to you. The way your general items are scattered on the dresser. He likes it.

“Hey handsome.” It doesn’t matter how ridiculous you look, dripping wet in a bath towel and fuzzy slippers, you open the bathroom door to let him in if he wants to share some while you brush your hair and teeth. “I know I’ve already said it, but dinner was amazing.”

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." He smirks at you and comes up to hold onto your waist, wrapping around you to kiss your ear. You hum as you load your toothbrush up and tilt your head to allow him more access to you. "You’re lookin' fresh faced and pretty tonight."

“And smelling very manly,” you joke, turning your head to kiss him properly in between his exploration of your neck and before you start brushing your teeth. Before or after is fine. During would be a bit messy.

“I like the way you smell.” His scent on your body drives him crazy and there has been more than one time where he’s had to take care of the nagging lust that always lives right under the surface since he's given into being near you.

You smile coyly at him in the mirror, raising one eyebrow. “I smell like you,” you point out before starting to brush your teeth. Not that you mind at all. Not even a little, actually.

“Yeah, sugar.” Jack’s voice dips down and he brushes another kiss over your skin. “Like I’ve wrapped myself around you and rubbed myself all over your body.”

The most articulate sound you can manage right now is a groan as you process that image - the therapist had said you were both clear headed enough for sex if it was what you both wanted, but you haven’t taken that step. So far you’ve been too tired from your recovery, so it’s been slow nights of drowning in each other’s kisses in bed - with Jack’s hands down your panties if things got rambunctious.

He chuckles against your skin, feeling himself start to harden. “But right now sugar? I need to clean up. Get the smell of smoke off me.”

"What if I like the smell of smoke?" You pose, spitting out excess toothpaste long enough to pout at him and then grin when he meets your eyes in the mirror. "Go clean up, baby. I'm going to get in bed and read."

Jack grunts, aware that his cock is twitching against your ass and he pulls his hips back. He doesn’t want to push you even if he knows you want to.

You've lost track of time, by the time Jack comes out of the bathroom, and look up over the top of your book when you spy him striding into the room. Squeaky clean but still damp from just toweling off, that towel is now wrapped around his waist when he comes into the bedroom to fish for a pair of boxers to sleep in. Fuck he looks good like that...you might be staring, but you don't care.

Jack knows you are looking and it feeds into his ego like nothing else. No one night stand cooing and lovin’ on him has the effect of his soulmate staring discreetly. He smirks at himself as he turns towards the drawer and ‘accidentally’ drops his towel.

"Whoops." It comes with a half-snort because you know damn well that he didn't do it by accident, and you set your bookmark back in your book to put it on the side table. "I'm sure that was very clumsy of you. And fully unintentional."

Jack throws a look over his shoulder with a grin. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He draws playfully. “Ain’t you supposed to be makin’ recipes? Or readin’?”

“Nice try.” Even if you hadn’t read it before, no book is more interesting than your bare assed naked soulmate. Especially when he’s previously been very careful about modesty to keep the both of you under control.

His chuckle accompanies him reaching into the drawer to pull out a pair of boxers. “Something you like on display, sugar? Didn’t think you liked tiny asses.”

It earns him another little laugh, and you pull the blankets back on his side of the bed. “I don’t keep my hand in your back pocket when we walk around because my fingers are cold, baby.”

“And here I was thinkin’ that you were trying to warm ‘em up.” Jack puts on a thicker accent for you right now, knowing how much it seems to affect you.

“Get in bed, cowboy.” It’s practically an order, but edged with enough begging to stroke Jack’s ego like he’s stroking your voice kink by playing with his accent.

“Yes ma’am.” Jack pretends to tilt an imaginary hat as he closes the drawer and turns around to stride cockily towards the bed.

There’s something to be said for the domesticity of such a moment. The easy way he slides into bed beside you and bundles you up in his arms, and the comfort of clean bodies cuddled up in the light of your bedside lamps like you had been doing this your whole lives. Now that you’re letting yourselves, it’s so easy to be together. “So…” you hum, snuggling up to him. “I saw my dad pull you outside tonight.”

“Yes.” Jack won’t deny that. Especially because you saw it. “He did.” He rubs his hand up and down your back.

“Anything I should know about?” It’s hard to imagine they needed to have a private conversation about whiskey or the grill, but who knows.

“Your father wanted to know my intentions.” Jack admits easily. “To tell me that I need to listen to you, help you dream.”

“He worries too much.” An exasperated sigh passes your lips and you place a kiss on Jack’s chest. “I already have my dreams.”

“I know.” Jack says teasingly. “Your tea room.” He knows you mean more than that, but he’s grinning as he needles you.

“And my soulmate.” There might be other things that you bluster about, but the love of the person you’re meant to be with and your dream job are the two things you’ve always been honest about wanting.

“And your soulmate.” Jack quietly repeats. He knows how important it is to you. To him honestly, now that he’s opened that possibility up again. Your happiness is the most important thing to him.

“So there’s nothing else to worry about.” The questions of marriage or kids or anything else are all secondary to just having him in your life.

He hums and thinks about things for a moment. "Would you...want to go home with me?" He asks softly. "To Montana? See the ranch. You don't have to."

“I absolutely will if you want me to.” At dinner, your parents had invited him to come up to New Hampshire with you any time, and this seemed like a natural extension of that invitation to you. But you do lean back a little to look him in the eye. “I would love to see where you’re from, honey. But if it’s going to hurt too much…reminding you of Abigail and the baby and all that…then we don’t have to.”

"It's been a long time since I've been home." Since he had left, if he were honest, but he wasn't going to bring that up. "Might be good to go see it...introduce you to 'em." He ventures, wondering if you will think it macabre or ghoulish to visit his former soulmate's grave.

“Do you still have family out there?” It’s not hard to tell when Jack has his mind set to something, and this seems like it’s quickly becoming an important idea to him. “Or is there maybe an event that you used to like going to? That we could go back for?”

"No family left." His father had died the year before Abigail. Heart attack, or he would wonder if Rollins had any hand in it now. "Just me."

“No cousins or anything?” That surprises you, but you smooth your furrowed brow so he doesn’t get the impression that you’re judging him for something he has no control over. “Who’s running the ranch?”

"I hired a board of directors to handle things for me." Jack huffs. "Or....Champ did." Champ had taken care of that task to where Jack only had to handle the yearly reports and even then it was more of a cursory glance. He had honestly anticipated the fuckin' thing going to the Statesman conglomerate when he died.

“We should go.” There’s a wistfulness and a worry in his expression that is begging to be soothed, and you run your hand gently up and down his side. “We can see the ranch, you can show me where you grew up, and we can visit Abigail and your son. Would that…would that be a good trip for you?” Of course you’re curious to see where he came from, but the last thing you want to do is hurt him with memories.

Jack bites his lip, swallowing harshly when you are the one that brings up his wife. "I– I would l-like that." He manages, his voice cracking slightly in surprise and so much gratitude. His hold on you tightens. "I would like that a lot." It feels like Jack has a sense of closure now that Abigail's death has been explained. It wasn't some random act of violence that he couldn't rationalize. It was targeted. She was targeted. It had helped to know that more than he ever thought it would.

“We’ll bring flowers.” That’s what you do whenever you visit your own family’s graves, and in some ways you suppose Jack’s lost loved ones are a part of your family now. In an extended and loving memory sort of way. “Whenever you want to go, honey.”

“We need to get through your opening and at least the first few months, I think.” Jack looks to you. “Right?”

“Maybe we could go at the end of the summer or beginning of fall?” The land would still be in bloom and going during the heat of summer might be too close to their death date for him. Considering he doesn’t celebrate his birthday you doubt he wants that big of a reminder. “I would think that…earlier in August might be…a lot harder.”

"That would work." Jack nods, considering it. "There's nothing like fall on the ranch." He admits wistfully. "Especially when the trees start changing colors up in the mountains."

“Fall, then.” Placing a kiss over his heart, you offer Jack a soft smile. “I’m honored that you want to share that part of yourself with me.”

"Just...." Jack picks up your hand and kisses it softly. "Be patient with me when we go?" He asks, knowing that he might have to go quite a few therapy sessions before taking you, so he doesn't lash out or do something stupid.

“Honey, of course.” It seems like you shouldn’t be able to get any closer, but you nudge that much nearer to him and brush some damp hair from his forehead. “And if you decide to put the trip off until spring or even next fall, that’s just fine. The ranch isn’t going anywhere and neither am I.”

"Hmmm, thank you." He squeezes your back gently and his hand starts to drift down towards your ass as a natural progression. Having you in his bed has made it hard to keep his hands to himself on the best days and he was still in a playful mood.

“Serious conversation and then an ass grab, huh?” Sure you might be teasing him a little less, but you’re still you. It’s still fun. “Still in a good mood, Mr. Daniels?”

"Sugar, I'm finding that I've been in a good mood since that first nap with you." He tells you seriously. "Especially when I get to see that gorgeous smile on your face."

“Hmm…” He’s being so damn sweet and sincere tonight, and you’re just soaking it all in like sunbeams. “I wonder why that could be?”

"I don't know." He teases back. "Might be because your parents and siblings haven't strung me up for makin' you cry. Or because I'm currently in bed with a very sexy woman."

“If anybody would’ve gotten out the noose it would have been my sister, and it would have been immediate.” And since you would have done the same to defend her if she needed it, you can’t blame her in the least. But your little sister had listened when you told her that Jack was actively fixing things and making an effort. “I’m thinking it probably has a tiny bit more to do with having a half-undressed woman in your bed.”

"Yes." Jack's voice dips slightly, taking on a smokier sound. "That. That is a big reason why I've been in such a good mood." Despite not having sex, he's more relaxed with you here and he doesn't want you to leave when your family goes home tomorrow.

“I’ve been thinking…” Some might not consider three days a whole lot of time to think, but getting to spend so much uninterrupted time with him has been good for you. When Jack doesn’t have his guard up, he is as sweet and as appealing as apple pie with all the charm of the most attentive Southern gentleman. “And I think…” Finding his eyes in you, you fluster a little and bury your face in his shoulder. “It’d be a shame to go back to my own place.”

"I think you're right." Jack agrees softly, relieved that you seem to be on the same page as he is. "Wasted opportunities to hold you. When you go back to work, I know you aren't going to be able to be under my wing the entire day."

“I’ll text you when I get downtime,” you promise him, stretching to kiss the nearest bit of his skin you can manage - which right now is the slope of his chest just below his neck. “So you don’t worry.”

“Just wear your bracelet for me, sugar.” He requests, remembering how his heart had dropped when he had seen it on your counter.

“Always.” You pick up your hand that had been tucked in beside him to show the delicate chain with its innocent looking charm to show him that you’re wearing it even now. “I only take it off to shower now.”

“Okay.” He knows it’s a little bit of paranoia, since you will be on Statesman property, but Ginger is still going through all the personnel files to make sure another intruder hasn’t slipped through the cracks.

“It’s okay.” It’s an understatement to say that you understand now. “From now, I’m coming home to you at night.”

"Yeah?" Jack smirks slightly and bites his lips at the prospect of having you in his bed every single night. "I like the sound of that, sugar. Hand to God, I do."

“I do, too.” There’s barely any more space to move in, but you reach up and place a kiss on his lips and sigh softly. The kiss starts off soft, but need and hunger makes Jack reach up and grip the back of your neck as he deeps it with the slide of his tongue against your lips. Groaning when you eagerly open for him.

Every night has been like this. Sliding into bed together and having a little pillow talk before you indulge a little in each other without ever pushing the boundary that you’ve set for yourselves. It’s been a blissful few days, if you’re honest, and even though you know the second he signals being ready you’ll be throwing your own clothes off the side of the bed in a big goddamn rush.

That need, the underlying hunger that seems to invade every single touch and kiss is working overtime tonight. Making Jack grip your hips and urge you on top of him, wanting to feel your warmth and weight. The heat of your damp panties pressing against the rapidly expanding tent in his boxers.

The heat grows faster tonight than it usually does, something in the breath you share feeling more addictive or maybe just hungrier. You find yourself grinding your hips down on him without thinking and moaning when his hands slip under your shirt. “Fuck sugar.” Jack groans, kissing down your throat as you roll your hips back and make him choke on his own breath. “You’re so fucking…sweet.”

“Sweet?” You might giggle if you weren’t busy moaning, but you tilt your head completely out of the way to let him lick and nip and suck every bit of skin he wants. “Tonight feels—” you gasp when he swipes his thumbs across your pebbled nipples in unison. “Fuck— definitely hotter.”

“Never eaten melted chocolate?” Jack groans, smirking slightly as you push your tits against his fingers a little more. Begging for him to repeat the move. “Sweet and hot.”

“I will go get the fudge sauce out of your kitchen so fucking fast.” It would be a nice follow up to yesterday when you had caramel sauce all over your hands making yourself a fancy latte before your family woke up and Jack had very carefully licked it off every digit.

Jack chuckles quietly and shakes his head. “No food play with your parents here.” He chides playfully.

Your pout is playful and your circle your hips in his lap again before reaching to pull your t-shirt over your head. There’s been enough modesty this week for two people planning on living together - you’re itching to take a bigger step forward. Jack has seen you naked. You’ve changed in front of him with no modesty, a move that made him grin. Now he groans, eyes feasting on your tits and he drags you down to his chest to feel them pressed against his chest.

He’s throbbing hard beneath you and the barriers of his boxers and your panties are performative at best. At this point you know damn well that he can feel how soaked your panties are, he can feel the difference in the neediness of every kiss.

Diving back into your mouth is like the anchor he needs to keep himself from keeling over. Groaning your name quietly, he manages to break away to look into your eyes. “What do you want, sugar?” He demands roughly.

“I—” You know the answer. What you’re aching for. But if he isn’t ready you won’t push him. “I want you,” you admit, looking everywhere but his eyes to avoid seeing disappointment. “But not if you’re not ready.”

Jack inhales roughly, expecting that answer but still being shocked when he hears it. “With your family here?” He asks, sliding his hands down your sides to grip your hips. “Tonight, sugar?”

“I can keep my voice down.” Another roll of your hips is a figure eight this time, and your eyes nearly roll back in your head when you feel him pulse underneath you. “Can you?”

It takes Jack a moment to be able to remember what you are talking about, let alone his own name when you grind against him like that. His fingers digging into your flesh and pulling you against him again. "I- y-yeah." He groans out brokenly. "Y-you sure?" He closes his eyes and tries to control himself before he looks back up at you seriously. This is a big step for the two of you and he wants you to not regret it.

“I’m sure, baby.” The seriousness of the moment isn’t lost on you, and you stop moving to leave a soft, sincere kiss on his lips. “I love you, Jack.”

He knows you are ready, the two of you have been ready physically since the day you met. It's the mental and emotional barriers that he had created that caused this delay. Now, Jack rolls you onto your back and smirks down at you, his eyes dark and flashing with need. "I love you too, sugar. Now I'm gonna show you how you ride a real cowboy."

If you were feeling pedantic, you might quibble about position and how you had just been in the perfect place to ride him - but honestly you’re too foggy from desire and the burning in your blood to do anything more than surge up to kiss him. The measly barriers of underwear were symbols of restraint more than anything, and you are extremely ready to pull his away so you can experience every inch of him.

Jack groans, enjoying the pure desire that is fueled by your kiss, his hands sliding down to the band of your panties and he smirks into your mouth before he shreds them easily.

Oh that should not make you moan so wantonly, but it’s a good thing you were kissing him when he did it otherwise your promise to keep the volume down would have been shot to hell immediately. “Fuck, baby.”

He chuckles quietly and moves the material away so he can slide his fingers against your wet slit. "You like that, sugar?"

“Show off,” you accuse him playfully, knowing that you’ve told him in the past that shows of physical strength are a turn on for you. “I’m already always soaking wet around you.”

He hums, sliding his fingers down to press into you. Something that he has done before but now he knows that you are going to feel more than just his fingers inside you. Wanting to make sure that you cum before he slides inside you.

“Fu—fuck.” One hand shoots out to clutch his shoulder and the other twines into the soft bed sheets as your hips roll down to meet his hand as deeply as you possibly can. Yes, you’ve enjoyed exploring with him, but you’ve wanted him since the day you met and you’re aching for him now that the chance is here.

Jack's hands are clever, quick. They have to be with the type of rope and pistol work that he does. Now, his trigger finger curls up inside you. seeking the spongy spot that makes your back arch and your gasps turn desperate. Ready to drink down the sounds like a man dying of thirst while he kisses you and pushes you towards the edge.

You squirm but open up for him like a spring flower, legs spread open as wide as you can manage to give him ample room to explore. All you’ve wanted for months is to drown in him and now you’re clinging to him like a life preserver as he rockets you out over an ocean of pleasure.

“That’s it, sugar.” Jack coos in your ear, butterflying kisses along your jaw while the wet heat of your cunt surrounds his fingers. “Give it to me. Let me feel your sweetness.”

He’s well practiced at this - with plenty of partners before you, yes, but also just from the last few days together. He knows exactly the right way to quirk his wrist and exactly the right way to curl his fingers, making you gasp and chase the sensation of his fingers filling you every time he pulls them out only to thrust them back into you with more dexterity than before. He plays you like an instrument until you bow and threaten to break, with one hand clamped over your mouth so you don’t cry his name for the whole house to hear as you fall apart at the seams and flood his hand with your sticky release.

It is only because of your family down the hall that he doesn't let you cry out. When they leave, he will. Letting your sweet sounds fill the bedroom, hell, the house. Wanting to hear it. Now he just groans, his lips pressed against your hand, as if trying to kiss you through the barrier. "Good girl." He murmurs. "Good girl, sugar."

The way he coos at you is borderline criminal but combines somewhere in the back of your head with riding him and you swear you’d let this unhinged cowboy put a damn bit and bridle on you if it turned out to be some wild kink of his. The thought flies out of your head as soon as it enters, blissfully blanking out with white hot pleasure. Only when you’re sure you won’t shout do you move your hand away, pouring a moan into his mouth instead.

Only when your body can't give him any more does he still his fingers. Watching as you relax into the bed and the sugary smile of pleasure graces your face. "Was it good for you?" He asks, smug in your eventual response when you can catch your breath.

“You’re so fucking cocky,” you drawl in reply, giggling under your breath when you surge up to kiss him. “I’d be shoving you on your back to stroke your cock except I need you to fuck me.”

"Confident, sugar." Jack chuckles, kissing your lips again before he shuffles off of you so he can push his boxers down. "Confident."

“Because you know I’ve been ready to jump you since the day we met.” It’s not even judgmental or self-deprecating, just a fact as you smirk up at him. He’s so fucking handsome and the butterflies in your stomach erupt all over again. This is actually happening.

Jack peels down his boxers and stands straight, showing off the hard length that is heavily bobbing as he lets you peruse his body. "You should know I've been havin' to hide this since the day we met." He growls.

“Don’t know how you hide it anywhere.” With as tight as he wears his jeans, it should be impossible to keep the thickest cock you’ve ever seen in your life under wraps, but somehow he manages it.

He smirks and waggles his brows at you playfully. "It's all in the way you keep your jacket buttoned."

“Show off.” Though you roll your eyes dramatically, you lean forward to snag his arm and urge him to come back to you. “Get back in bed and show off here instead.”

It's the easiest order that he will probably ever receive as he kneels on the bed. "With pleasure, sugar."

As easily as you ever fit together in any other part of life, the way your bodies seem to move and mold together is instinctive. There’s no guiding or nudging, just fluid motion as he finds the cradle of your thighs and slides one arm underneath your back to keep you as close to him as possible as he devours you in a burning kiss. Jack has never been shy about sex. Not even that first time with Abigail where he was worried that he would last all of ten seconds, only to be surprised and pleased he had lasted thirty. His cock pulses against your mound and he hums into your mouth, enjoying the way you fit against him, soft in all the right places and welcoming him to slide into you.

This tension that’s been building for months has somehow intensified during the last week. No touch has been enough, although you’ve pretended it was, and every moment of intimacy has just made you burn for more. Now, with his weight bearing down on you and the heat of him threatening to consume you, you’re squirming for any kind of friction. The easy roll of his hips comes natural, grinding against your and feeling the way your gasp presses into his throat when the head of his cock catches on your swollen, soaked lips. "Easy girl," he coos gently, keeping his hips angled so that when he shifts down, it presses against your entrance. "Nice and easy."

The smirk drawn tight across your face curls at the edges when you look up at him. “If you have a horse fetish, Jack Daniels, now would be the time to tell me.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah, sugar.” He reaches down to grip your hip. “No horse fetish, but I do want you to hang on.”

Even the smallest moment of laughter seems to break the spell of apprehension that had been blanketing the two of you, and when you giggle along with him it’s like music. “Good,” you tease, hitching your leg high up on his hip. “Because I’m feeling more like save a horse, ride a cowboy tonight.”

Once you say that, Jack leans in and presses his lips to yours and slowly starts to push forward. Breaking you open with a smooth roll of his hips and a groan when he slips inside you.

Your mouth drops open as his hips roll forward, that deep moan that originates somewhere in your toes barely stifled when you clamp your mouth shut and bite your lip to keep it contained. Instead Jack gets an enthusiastic whimper while he fills your needy pussy slowly but surely. Every shuddering breath is encouragement, and you are definitely not here to discourage him.

Jack's own moan is quietly, barely breathed out but it's there. Mouth dropping open and his eyes fluttering closed at the tight, hot clutch of your cunt surrounds him. Stealing his ability to make a pithy comment, every thought of how fucking good you feel, how perfect you are, is all that he can manage until his hips nudge yours and he is buried to the hilt in your body.

All the space in your mind seems to be gone along with that space that he filled up in your body, leaving you dumbstruck in a way you’ve never felt before as your body adjusts to the weight and girth of him inside you. It isn’t like the two of you to be speechless, but the moment is consumed in drowning kisses rather than witty barbs and you can’t even say that you care. He doesn't know exactly when your fingers became entwined, curled together as your leg shifts higher on his hip and your lips tilt away from his. Breaking to give you both the space to pant softly. "Shit, sugar." He groans quietly.

“Jack—” You gasp his name softly, rolling your hips against his to seek out even the smallest movements. “You—you’re so fuckin perfect. Fuck.”

“You know how good you feel?” He groans quietly, twitching inside you when your walls contract around him.

The huff that earns him is only because your mind is too wound up in pleasure to be clever, and you draw your nails up his back to urge him on. “Might go crazy if you don’t move, baby.”

“So impatient.” He chides, leaning in and biting your chin before he draws his hips back.

“Maybe.” You might have snarked back at him if he hadn’t snapped his hips forward at that exact moment, pushing the air out of your lungs and making you have to bite back a sharp cry of his name to a bare whimper. He’s a menace and he knows what the hell he’s doing.

His grin borders on devilish and he wraps his arms around your shoulders. “You were sayin’, sugar?” He grunts as he thrusts into you again. Making sure that he forces more air out of your lungs.

“Fuck.” He said he wanted you to hold on - and he truly seems to have meant it. You cling to him as he sets a deep, steady pace that has both of you groaning into each other’s skin. The rest of the world has dissolved away so quickly that you can’t even focus on the room beyond him, eyes half-shut and fluttering every time his cock pulses inside your tight channel.

“I am, sugar.” Jack pants. “But you want it harder, I’m guessin’.” He’s teasing, but he wants to make sure you know exactly what he’s capable of in bed so he sets his knees and his pace speeds up.

It’s a miracle you don’t cry out. One hand leaves its safe place on his shoulder to dive into his hair to let your fingers scrape his scalp and pull on his hair just enough to add that hint of pain to the pleasure. “Shit.” Jack’s pace fumbles for half a thrust before he is slamming into you. Grateful for the solid poster bed to keep the headboard from banging through the wall and alerting everyone in the house to what you are doing.

“We can both play rough, cowboy.” You promise him, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath his ear and moaning vocally in his ear when he bottoms out inside you again.

If it weren’t for your experience being so fresh, Jack would have you tied to the bed. Instead he grabs your hip, hitching it up higher and groaning as he shuffles to his knees. The shift has you bouncing, head nearly hitting the headboard of the bed, and you reach up to brace yourself. The effect is that you’re stretched out in the bed below him, tits bouncing with every thrust and mouth alternately hanging open on a silent cry or pressed tightly shut to stifle the need to call his name into the night.

Huffing and puffing as he rides you hard, Jack grins down at you. Moving so he can lick his thumb and press it to your clit.

"Jesus–fuck!" You yelp when he presses his thumb to your swollen nub, eyes shooting open from where they had fallen blissfully shut to let the moment wash over you. There's a line of sweat rolling down Jack's neck that you don't hesitate to lick away, discovering tonight to be delightfully needy when you had unfoundedly assumed that things would tend toward lovemaking.

“Shhhhhh sugar.” Jack teases as he makes tight, sure circles over your clit. “Don’t want your daddy busting’ in here, do ya?” He smirks and snaps his hips a little harder.

"Fuck why is that sexier?" The pout on your lips at enjoying the idea of enjoying the forbidden or taboo is temporary, taken over by the shaking shivering pleasure from Jack knowing exactly how you like your clit rubbed.

Chucking, Jack decides to change the pace, keeping his fingers moving over your clit but his cock draaaaaags through your walls slowly. “Don’t know, you tell me.”

Biting your lip yet again to keep from moaning too loudly, the abrupt change in rhythm means you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he rocks backward. The slow feeling of emptiness is torture that almost makes you sob with pleasure. “Might hav—have to fuck you in a bunch of different —fuck — places to see who catches us.”

“Hmmm.” Jack ducks his head down and nips at your ear, breathing heavily. “Maybe I’ll fuck you in your kitchen. Let your staff walk in on us.”

“Shit.” That thought rockets through you like wildfire and has you grasping at his skin for any kind of mark or impression you could possibly leave on his perpetually tan skin. “Or your office.”

“My office.” Jack groans, pushing deep and grinding into you. “Spread out on my desk, my tongue buried in your cunt when someone walks in?”

Every image seems better than the last, building you up steadily along with his thrusts and the tight circles he's drawing on your clit so that you're on the edge of bursting. "Fuck yes," you're panting and swallowing your own whines beneath him. "So fucking good, baby, h–holy shit." With as tight as your body is clamping down on him in every way, your nails in his arms just might draw blood as you fall apart on a pitiful moan. It's too fast and too sharp to warn him, but the pleasure comes in wave after wave.

Watching your orgasm rip through you might be the sexiest thing that he has ever seen. Eyes clouding over and back arching up when your broken moan fills his ears. The hot grip of your walls making his already throbbing cock ache and he grits his teeth to keep from cumming as he rocks his hips to work you through the peak.

It's almost ruthless, the way he doesn't let up and just pushes you through to the other side without hesitation, but at the same time you love the seemingly endless aftershocks of such a powerful orgasm. "Come on, baby." You gasp out, holding onto his gaze with hazy eyes. "Cum for me."

“Gunna.” Jack hisses through his teeth, jaw stretched out and the muscles in his neck straining as he pushes towards his own pleasure. The way you tremble around him has him groaning your name, hips stuttering as his pace becomes sloppy and thrusts uneven.

His whole body tenses just a second before you feel it - his hips slamming forward to grind into you as deeply as he can before hot jets of his seed fill you with every pulse of his cock. It has you whimpering even as you slip your arms around him to offer him that place of comfort to come down to.

When he’s emptied himself into you, an experience that nears nirvana, he slides down into your embrace. Tucking his head against your neck and groaning your name quietly. “That..” he pants quietly. “Was worth the wait.”

Your breathing evens a little and you press a kiss to the top of his head, wrapping your arms around him tightly to just savor the moment for everything it's worth. "You were worth the wait."

His hold on you flexes, tightens as if he is afraid you would slip out of his grasp. As if you aren’t pinned beneath the bulk of his weight and still impaled on his softening cock. “Soulmates.” He murmurs softly.

“Soulmates.” You hum, quietly agreeing to what you know was not always the easiest thing for him to grasp or accept. Your hands journey up and down his back, soothing his overheated skin. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He sighs, kissing along your neck and across your shoulder gently. Not ready to move unless you need him to. It’s been a long time since Jack felt like he was home and that’s exactly what you feel like to him right now.

“Can we sleep like this?” Having him wrapped in your arms and pressing you down into the mattress might be the most comfortable you’ve ever been and you would hate to give it up too soon.

His chuckle is quiet and he settles so that he’s not just dead weight on you. “Comfortable, sugar?” He murmurs softly. “I don’t know if I can move right now.” He’s joking and he knows you know that from your huff.

There’s something to be said for feeling both safe and cherished, and your arms tighten around him briefly. “I think this is the most comfortable I’ve ever been.”

“Then go to sleep, sugar.” He nudges his hips forward slightly to make sure he doesn’t slip out of you. “I’ve gotcha.”

“Sweet dreams, love.” A soft kiss lingers between you before you close your eyes, happy to let blissful sleep take over.

******

“Sugar, I think four desserts is enough, don’t you?” It’s amusing to watch you rush around your kitchens and fret, but he knows that you only want to make your contribution to the going away party perfect. “You’ve made the kid’s favorites.”

“Everything has to be perfect.” Without knowing that you’re echoing his thought, you do register the affectionate grin on his face and pause in your movements to shrug sheepishly. “Bobby’s my friend, and so is his mother. This is a big day and I want them to be happy with it.”

“I know.” Jack had come by to peel you out of the kitchen, knowing if he left you for too long, you’d think of another dessert to whip up quickly. “Do we need to pack coolers or can everything go in the back of the Bronco?”

"Everything can go in the Bronco." He had let you out of his sight this morning long enough to bring your family back to the airstrip and get some clean clothes from your cabin, and you had gone into a sort of baking tizzy immediately after. Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, red berry scones, pecan pie squares, and a huge batch of coconut cupcakes are all ready to go.

“Okay,” he grunts as he picks up the two large bakery boxes with the cookies and scones. “I’ve got the backseat laid down, so we should have plenty of room.”

"Thank you, baby." You follow him out with the rest of the pastries in your arms, setting them in the back of the Bronco before hopping into the front seat to snuggle up to Jack. "And...thank you for this week. Getting to spend the time with my family was...pretty perfect."

“Recovering from something like that is always better when you have people who love you around.” Jack turns and kisses your forehead. “When we are officially livin’ together, they are welcome anytime, sugar.”

"Only two more weeks until the opening." And that, in and of itself, is as terrifying as it is exciting. "Maybe tomorrow I'll come back here and pack up some of my stuff? It's not like I have a lot to do. The furniture all came with the cabin and I haven't gotten that many new things since moving down here."

“Whenever you want to do that, sugar.” Jack isn’t trying to rush you into any moves until you are ready for that. “You let me know and I’ll be your work mule for any heavy liftin’.”

"First thing's first." You lean over and snag another kiss, giddy to be beside him again after only a couple of hours apart. "Bobby's party."

“Bobby’s party.” Jack agrees, smirking over at you softly and reaching for your hand. The word about you being Jack’s soulmate has spread like wildfire amongst all the Statesman employees and this is the first official outing as a couple. “Word has it, Champ’s opened more than a few bottles of Reserve and Diana’s got all the ingredients for a full cocktail bar set up. Including some bubbly.”

"I expect nothing less of her." If it were your son being sent overseas like this without you knowing when you were going to see him again, you would definitely be sending him off in a big way as well. "Good thing we live right next door so we can just crash when we get tired."

His lips curl into a grin when he hears ��we’. Proudly straightening up slightly as he marvels over how much his thinking has changed over the past two weeks. “I can see you gigglin’ drunkenly in the bathtub.” He teases.

"It would not be the first time at all." The grin you flash at him when he turns the engine over is unabashed. "My brother's thirtieth birthday was a hell of a party."

“Oh lord.” Jack rolls his eyes playfully and snorts. “I have a feelin’ I’m gunna be carryin’ you home over my shoulder.”

"Nooooo." Although the mental image does make you giggle. "I wouldn't embarrass you like that."

“Who says it’s because you’ve embarrassed me?” He grins lecherously and waggles his eyebrows. It’s not a long drive from your kitchen to the house, so he doesn’t have long to flirt before you will switch back into chef mode.

"You gonna throw me over your shoulder and carry me into the house to have your wicked way with me?" The two of you had woken up this morning still tangled in each other and shared a shower - which made it take far longer than if you had gotten ready separately. It was a beautiful way to spend the earliest hours of the day.

“Might.” Jack admits, reaching over and sliding his hand up your pretty sundress. “Too pretty to keep my hands off of.”

"Mmm, I think we might have unleashed the beast," you joke, not bothering for one second to stop his hand from wandering. The entire reason for wearing a little sundress today instead of a simple pair of shorts and a shirt is so that he would want to touch you.

Chuckling, he makes sure his fingers brush your panties. “Don’t think you’re complainin’.”

"Not even a little." There isn't enough time to make the car ride playful, but you relish the feeling of his fingers against your core for even just a second.

“That’s what I thought.” A small, playful pinch to your thigh is quickly smoothed over with his fingers and he grins at you. “Don’t have to be quiet tonight.”

"Thank god." You huff dramatically, like it was the biggest effort in the world to keep quiet last night. Which, in some ways, it was. At least it wasn't easy. It doesn't matter though, all that matters is that you're taking steps forward at a pace that is good for both of you. Jack parks in his driveway so he doesn't take up any room at Champ and Diana's house, and the two of you easily carry all the treats you made across the yard to the tables that Diana has left bare for your contributions. She had predicted you would overdo it after not being allowed to cook for the better part of a week, and she was right.

“Whole damn table for your desserts.” Jack sounds like he is grumbling but the grin on his face shows that he completely belies that. He’s already planning on stealing one of the cupcakes.

"Might be just enough room." There are all sorts of serving platters out for you to choose from, and you start arranging them carefully to put things at different heights and with different shapes beside each other to make the table interesting and easy to grab from. "But only because I stopped short of making the key lime tarts..."

“Now you’re just bein’ mean.” Jack groans quietly. “I ever tell you Key Lime is one of my favorites?”

"You did not." The pout on his lips is adorable, and you grin before kissing it away. "I'll make one for us this week. How about that?"

“Yessssss.” Jack pumps his fist, grinning as he imagines the tangy tartness of the dessert. It was the perfect balance of nearly too sweet and sour.

"What are we celebratin' out here?" Diana had seen you walking up to the house but was in the middle of taking something out of the oven. Now that she can come and say hello, she's ready to throw a second party altogether for how damn happy you and Jack seem.

“Key lime pie.” Jack doesn’t explain any further than that. Aware that Diana is familiar with his love of anything Key Lime. The only thing that truly beats it is chocolate.

"You're gonna love having a chef for a soulmate," she laughs lightly, embracing both of you in turn. "How are you feelin', sweetheart? Better?"

"I'm good, Di." You hug her back fiercely. "A couple of days of rest with my family is what I needed."

“We’ve got another session with the doc and then she’s got some solo meetings.” Jack hadn’t backed down on his insistence you see the staff therapist. Wanting you to cope with things better than he ever has.

"Good." That meets Diana's approval, and she nods as she looks the two of you over. "Positively glowing," she pronounces, having a feeling that she knows why. "Happiness suits you both."

Jack knows that it is mainly his fault, all his fault really. He ducks his head slightly and wraps his arm around your back to pull you into his side. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

"I always thought so." Diana gives you a playful wink before squeezing Jack's shoulder, glad to see him looking proud instead of apprehensive. "Come inside when you're done setting up here. Bar's set up in the kitchen and people should be arriving any minute."

"Do you need anything else, sugar?" Jack asks as he takes the last box from you. He has to admit that all your desserts look amazing and he hums. "Are you plannin' on having a display case in your tea room? Desserts to take home?"

"We're going to do a case for cakes." With the menu nailed down, you know that the only thing that still might expand is the take-away aspect of the bakery, but you're starting small. "The case was put in yesterday, actually. It was the last thing to go in."

"That case is going to be bare by the end of the first night." Jack predicts, knowing that plenty of people will want to take your goods home. Your kitchen staff will have to make sure to keep the cases full.

"You have such faith in me." You lean back in his arms and press a kiss to his cheek, satisfied with the way the table works and basking in the earnest compliment. "Let's go grab a drink, honey. Before the kitchen gets swamped."

Jack follows you willingly, carrying the discarded boxes from the goods as he trails after you. Admiring the way your hips sway in that dress and he smirks to himself.

"Di, I think you might have overdone it just a little bit," you laugh to yourself when you see the way the kitchen is laid out. The enormous tray of her son's favorite mac and cheese that she just took out of the oven is off to one side but a whole half of the counter is devoted to being a self-serve bar.

"Never." Diana huffs, grinning as he whips off the oven mitts and looks over the array of food. "Okay, maybe a little." She admits with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "But my Bobby is leavin' and we are going to celebrate." She swallows. "And then I'll cry tonight when he's on that plane."

"He's not leaving forever, Di." She knows that, of course, but you feel like it's your duty as her friend to remind her. "And you know he'll come home for every holiday he can. Bobby would never stay away that long."

"Shit." Diana rolls her eyes and tosses you a knowing look. "You know as well as I do that boy is itching to get out from under his daddy's watchful eye and gallivant."

"Sure." You nod, stepping up with Jack to pour yourself drinks when she motions to the counter. "But Christmas without his momma? Even a boy Bobby's age isn't eager for that."

"That's just because the darn fool still likes to see what's in his stocking." Diana jokes, laughing with you and relaxing slightly. She's nervous and excited for him, knowing that he will do good things. "How are you anticipating Tex's arrival?" She asks, glancing over at Jack.

"Honestly?" The two of you have your heads bowed as she makes you matching bright pink cocktails. "I hope it will be okay. I miss my friend, ya know? And I know Jack does, too. But...what do we know about this girl? His soulmate?" You're happy for him. You really are. But you also want to make sure that he's actually happy.

"She's a Kingsman agent. One of the few women that they have accepted, so she has to be a damn fine spy." Diana had been told what Champ knows and has no issue with passing it along. "Tall, feisty and mouthier than most Brits."

"Oh." You nearly cackle at the description, shooting Diana an amused grin. "So she'll fit right in here."

"I have a feelin' it's gonna be real interesting around here." Champ adds as he walks into the kitchen and makes a beeline for his wife to steal a kiss.

"We like interesting." You give Champ a hug when he tears himself away from Diana's side, glad to see him relaxed and smiling and not in his suit jacket for once. "Interesting keeps us on our toes."

"When's Tex comin' in again?" Jack asks, not sure how the boy will act when he gets back.

"Plane's landing in about an hour." Champ reports, snagging a beer from the fridge beside his wife. "Said he wanted to come straight over when I mentioned it to him, but I expect Sophia - that's his lady - will want to at least drop their things at the house first."

"Speakin' of houses." Jack glances over at you quickly before he looks back at his friend and boss. "Sugar's gonna be movin' in with me. Should have it empty pretty quick."

"Well look at that." Champ smirks, chuckling with a pleased note in it. "Didn't take you two long at all once you stopped trying to tear each other's throats out. Fantastic."

"Fuck off." Jack's huff is purely bluster and he rolls his eyes to accompany his sentiment before he grins at Champ.

"Charming." You smirk at your soulmate and hug him tight. "You survived five days with my entire family, babe. You deserve to have a live-in cook as a reward."

Chuckling, he can't deny that. He tugs you closer and kisses your forehead. "I will love every second of it too."

"Uncle Jack!" Bobby swings down the main staircase with a broad smile on his face and lights up at the sight of his father's closest friend. "Did you get a load of the smoker yet? Dad's outdone himself."

"Both of your parents have pulled out all stops on this shindig, kid." He lets go of you to stride forward and pull the kid into a bone crushing hug.

"I'm glad you're here." The younger man admits quietly. The idea of leaving without being able to say goodbye had made his stomach turn.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Jack murmurs back, always thinking of the kid like his own. A lot of times he had wondered if his little boy and Bobby would have been best friends.

"Sucks that we never got to run a mission together." There's a hint of regret in Bobby's voice but he smiles, glancing back over at you as you talk to his parents. "You'll be back in the field soon though, right? Never know what can happen."

"As soon as I can get my guns polished." Jack promises with a grin, slapping his back fondly. "I'll make my way over to merry 'ol England and remind you how to use your ropes."

The first flood of guests to arrive includes Ginger and Gabriella and their kids, and before you know it there is music pumping through the outdoor speakers and drinks flowing, with people playing lawn games and dancing and enjoying the sunny spring day for everything it's worth.

Jack stands with Champ over at the smoker, a place of pride as the two men share a drink. His eyes straying over to you as you laugh with Diana and he smiles softly at the scene. Unsure of why he had felt like you wouldn't fit in. That you wouldn't work here in this part of his life, or in his life at all. You've taken to Statesman and everyone he cares about like a duck to water.

“Having fun, love?” When your drink ran dry you headed across the lawn to refresh and stopped on the deck to give Jack a kiss.

"Of course." Jack smirks and lifts his glass up. "I've got some of the best Kentucky mash in existence, a smoker working overtime and the prettiest gal at the party comin' to kiss me."

“Suck up,” you tease, but there’s no bite in it. Instead it just earns him another kiss and a flustered smile from you. “Diana makes dangerous cocktails, I might have to mix something slightly less potent for myself otherwise you’re actually going to have to carry me home like you threatened.”

Champ chuckles and shakes his head. "My girl always did have a heavy hand when pouring drinks." His own eyes find his soulmate and he softens, smiling gently at the older woman across the way as she bullies Astrid into taking another scoop of the mac and cheese, knowing how much the Statesman tech loves it.

“Astrid and Gabi invited us over for dinner tomorrow,” you tell Jack, stealing one more squeeze of a hug before you remind yourself that you’re too old to be hanging all over your soulmate like a groupie. “Is it okay if I tell them yes?”

"If you are wanting to go, sugar, you tell 'em." Jack agrees, knowing that if you want to go to dinner with your friends, he will show up with a smile. "As long as you don't work too hard tomorrow since it will be your first full day back."

“My first day back is the perfect day to have someone else cook dinner, don’t you think?” It’s certainly not a bad idea by any means, and you shoot him a grin. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

"What if I don't want you to be good?" Jack poses playfully. "Go tell them that you will only bring one dessert." He orders, smirking at your immediate pout.

“Only bringing one dessert is being good!” His teasing earns him a stuck-out tongue and you hustle into the house to get another drink before he can retaliate. You’re still giggling to yourself happily just seconds later as you pour yourself a slightly less powerful cocktail, but the sound of the front door opening and boots in the foyer drags your mind to the present. “Come on back!” You call to the new arrival, having heard Diana greet guests the same way an hour ago. “Party’s outside but the bar’s in here.”

"Well hey." Tex rushes up to hug you before he stops short, unsure of how exactly to approach you now that the truth is out there and Sophia is right beside him. He gives you a sheepish smile when you turn around to face him. "Looks like you are right at home, knew you would be."

“You’re home!” The way you both flinch when you obviously want to be excited to see friends makes you shove your hands in your pockets for just a moment before you decide not to care. Friends can hug each other, dammit. If this Kingsman agent soulmate of his has a problem with it, she’s never going to be comfortable at Statesman. “It’s so good to see you,” you tell him honestly, reaching forward to offer him that hug.

As soon as you open your arms, Tex breaths out a sigh of relief and Sophia knocks into him from behind. "Hug her, you ass!" She hisses at her soulmate in reproach before she shoves him again. Rolling her eyes at the hesitancy he's displaying when she knows exactly who you are and what you have done with Tex.

The laugh you let out in surprise becomes a snort, and you hug the life out of the 6’1” Texan before turning to the statuesque woman beside him - stunningly gorgeous even in her jeans and sweater. “You must be Sophia.”

Sophia can't help but grin, immediately liking you. "That I am." She isn't like most British, she's a hugger and she comes in to greet you as if you were an old friend. Which, in a twisted kind of way, you are. "You're the heartbreaker." She teases as she squeezes you and pulls back and looks over at Tex when he huffs and shuffles beside her. "Ohhhh piss off." She huffs at him goodnaturedly. "Not everyday you get to have a friend who's seen your soulmate's cock." Her grin is wicked when she turns back to you and winks. "And she and I are going to be best mates, ay?"

“You really have no choice in the matter.” You inform Tex, grinning like a mad woman when Sophia keeps one arm around you and you can’t help but feel like this woman glows from the inside out. “I love her. I’m keeping her. You and Jack need to have a good gruff grumble at each other so we can all get back to normal around here.” Turning to Sophia, you flash her a grin and nod toward the counter. “Fix you a drink?”

"God yes." Sophia huffs, rolling her eyes. "We had to fly commercial, dealt with an absolute cunt of a ticket agent." She groans, "they didn't even have a proper cuppa on that trash heap they called a jet!" She tends to be told that she's abrasive and mouthy, but she doesn't care. Thrilled to be here with her soulmate and eager to make friends with those that know him best.

“Come by the kitchen any time. I had some of our teas imported so the real thing is just a short walk from your office.” The bottle of rum is already in your hand when you look back at her. “Did Tex tell you what I do when he told you…the other stuff?”

"He said you were the best damn baker on this side of the ocean." She tilts her head and leans in conspiratorially. "Which isn't hard when you compare it to British pastries." She giggles before she reaches out and touches your arm. "Don't worry, Tex might have told me about the incident between you, but that was before we even knew we were soulmates. And I don't care who was wrapped around his cock before me. All that matters is now."

“British pastries are amazing, don’t you dare test me on that. My tea room is opening in just a couple of weeks and you’ll have access to as much tea as you can manage.” Eyeballing the right amount of each liquor for the daiquiri you had started making her, you grin when Tex just shakes his head and steps around you to grab an ice cold beer from the fridge. Warm beer just never sat well with him in any of the pubs he tried out. “What happened between us is in the past, but I’ve really missed my friend.” You tell her honestly. “I’m really glad that you’re not the type to judge before you meet someone.”

"Though I want to punch that soulmate of yours." Sophia's grin turns into a frown and she looks you over curiously. "But it seems like you are doing surprisingly well, considering Tex said you were grieving when he left." There's a question in her comment, one that would be easily ignored if you didn't want to talk about it and the opening if you did.

“Jack and I are doing a lot better.” You hold a fixed glass out to her when you turn around. “Actually? We’re doing great. It was a bumpy ride but we’re on track now. Just like…it seems like you and Tex are doing well?”

"We are." Sophia can't stop the grin if she tries as she lifts the cocktail up to take a drink. "We both have always wanted to find our soulmates and it's just– it's exhilarating. You know?" She asks, making a face of delight when she tastes the drink you had mixed up. "Ohhhh this is good." She moans. "I'm going to love it here."

“I hope you like whiskey because around here it’s a religion.” Looping your arm through hers, you tap your glass against hers and grin. “Come outside and meet everyone.”

Jack looks up to find you and another woman with your arms intertwined and your heads pressed together, a cheery grin on both of your faces. Tilting his head and wondering who the woman is, his question is answered a second later when Tequila follows you and her out of the house, a very uncomfortable set to the boy's shoulders that immediately has Jack grinning out of spite. "Hot damn." He chuckles. "Trouble's blown back into town." He calls out over the yard.

"Tex!" Diana's delighted gasp from halfway across the yard is echoed almost immediately by a wave of other cheers and greetings, and you pull Sophia to the side with you just a few inches so you don't get run over by the ever-boisterous Bobby Rogers who comes careening up to the porch to say hello with an aggressive hug.

"Is everyone as enthusiastic around here?" Sophia bursts out laughing as the obviously grown man nearly tackles her soulmate in a hug that might have killed a lesser man.

"Pretty much," you laugh, nodding a little as Tex and Bobby share something that can only be classified as a bear hug. "I give it until the end of the party until you're getting hugs that big, too. Part of it is just...everybody loves Tex. And they're so excited to meet you."

"I heard he was something of a partier while he was here." Sophia finds it vastly amusing that the stereotypical cowboys around here act like they are all one big group of teddy bears. Most of them wrapped around their soulmates or coming over to greet Tex.

"Just a little." Throwing her a conspiratorial wink, you take it on yourself to introduce the newest arrival to Jack, since her soulmate is currently in the center of a group hug that would put any sorority to shame. "Honey," you reach out to touch Jack's shoulder and get his attention. "This is Sophia. Soph– this is Jack." The grin that unfurls on your face is unstoppable. "My soulmate."

"Well, fuck me." Sophia grins, shaking her head and reaching out to shake his hand. Unsure if this one was a hugger and she wants to needle him some. "Do they breed them all like fucking Gods here?"

You snort again, louder this time, and almost double over laughing at the comment. "Holy shit." It's going to take you a lot longer than just one or two seconds to regain your composure, especially with how amused Jack looks. "I fucking love this girl," you pronounce absolutely to anyone who could possibly be listening. "And yes. They do. At least, Statesman recruits all the godlike ones."

"I should have come over to America sooner." Sophia huffs, grinning towards her soulmate. "Tried a few of these cowboys on for size before I found Tex."

"Naw, you already got the second best the country has to offer." Your eyes slide over to Jack and you smile again, feeling that familiar fluttering in your chest that you always get when you look at him. "I'm afraid I already nabbed the best for myself."

Jack chuckles and reaches for you, relieved that the entire situation isn't awkward. Sophia looks like she is a woman who will keep Tex on his toes. "All yours, sugar." He promises. "All yours."

When Tex finally manages to extricate himself from the mountain of greetings, you ambles back over to Sophia with a sheepish grin on his face. "Didn't I tell ya we liked big hellos around here, baby?" He practically blushes, running his hand down her arm to thread their fingers together before looking up at you and his best friend. Or, at least, the man who had been his best friend. He's just hoping that he didn't fuck that up too badly. "Jack." He flusters before holding out his hand to say hello.

Jack stares at the boy's hand for a moment before he slaps it away. The sharp inhale of the entire group barely able to register before Jack busts out into a chuckle and grabs Tex, pulling him in for another rib bustin' hug. "Son of a bitch!" He growls. "The fuck took you so long? I've been miserable with just Champ for company."

The air goes out of all of you all at once, and Tex practically crumples into hugging his best fucking friend. "Jackass," he huffs, though the relief is clear in his voice. "You know that's why your daddy named you Jack, right? Knew from birth that you'd be a jackass."

"Better than Tex." Jack huffs, slapping the taller man's back harshly. It would sound like he's hitting. him, but it's just the affection being pounded back into him like men do. "Can't hit for shit, Tex." Jack's own relief at Tex's return and forgiveness for his actions are palpable. A weight off his shoulders.

"Gonna have to get back in the practice ring." Tex chuckles, shaking his head at Jack before he wraps his arm around Sophia and flashes the softest smile in the world at her. "It's good to be home." He has to admit that. Fully and wholeheartedly.

It's satisfying, seeing the boy wear a besotted smile that he's only seen one other time. This time he's got an even bigger sparkle in his eyes and it's reserved for Sophia. "Good to have you home." Jack promises, nodding at the other agent meaningfully. "You made it in time for the grand openin' too."

"I heard!" And he's not going to lie and claim that he didn't hurry back to be here in time. "Gotta admit I'm a little bummed to have missed out on all the menu tastings, but..." he clears his throat and looks down at Sophia who gives him an encouraging nod. "Champ says...y'all are gonna be doing weddings soon?"

"Oh my god..." You're wide-eyed when you realize what he's asking, and immediately look down at Sophia's hand to see a meteor-sized emerald on her finger. It's unique and bold, exactly like she is. "Are you serious? That's so exciting!"

"Goddamn." Jack whistles, not missing the split second flash of something on your face. It wasn't necessarily envy but it's more like a yearning. He thinks about the conversation he had with your father and knows that he will be sliding that ring on your finger just as soon as he can get you alone after the opening. He'll have to text your dad for a picture of the ring, get another band to compliment it. Something specifically from him for his soulmate. "Congratulations." He offers seriously.

"He wanted to wait until we got over here to have the thing." Sophia absolutely beams, looking between you and Jack. "Something utterly unEnglish. No little village church, no dour aunties over breakfast, no pall mall on the lawn." She snorts as though the idea of it is completely ridiculous.

"You'll both help, won't you?" Tex had talked about you both constantly once he was more comfortable doing so. They had opened up to each other so quickly that his hesitancy to talk about you and Jack had been the biggest clue that the two of you are important to him.

"Whatever you need from me." Jack agrees instantly, knowing that he will do anything to help the couple have the event they are dreaming of. Wanting them to be happy here, he wants Tex to be happy. Wants him to be happy with his soulmate. Just like he is now with you.

"Absolutely anything." And if you happen to have a few stray thoughts about your own wedding, it won't be your fault. But you would never bring it up to Jack.

"So you mean to tell me that the first weddin' you and Diana are gunna plan is Tex's?" Jack can't help but chuckle at the irony of it.

"Looks like it." You have a sip of your drink and note with a clear conscience that the only jealousy you feel is for being able to get married, not for the specific man. That would have been a whole extra therapy session right there.

"Looks like I owe my wife twenty bucks and a spa day," Champ chuckles from a few feet away, eyeing his two agents with amusement. "I'd sworn it woulda been Jack and his Sugar, here."

Tex’s eyes widen and he glances at you and then Jack. Just now realizing that things are a bit more friendly than when he left. “Seriously?” He asks, a slow grin breaking out on his face. “You two?”

"We're not engaged or anything," you quickly throw that conversation off the rails before it can get traction, not wanting to make Jack uncomfortable. Instead you choose to focus on the very real and very positive step toward a solid relationship that you actually are taking. "But, um...I'm moving...to Jack's place." For Sophia's benefit, you point at the side of the large house across two yards. "Right next door."

“Really?” Sophia hums and her calculating gaze turns towards Jack. “That’s a mighty big house to not be married in and fill with babies.” She points out practically.

"Ain't it, though?" Tex adjusts his arm around Sophia and grins. "Seems an awful shame not to have that place full of life."

"Oookay." Too nervous to even look at Jack, you give his hand a squeeze and remind yourself to smile. "I'm gonna go tell Gabi that we're on for dinner tomorrow before I forget," you murmur, excusing yourself as fast as gracefully possible.

Jack huffs, narrowing his eyes at the happy couple, although he isn’t upset. “Let me propose to the girl before you have her knocked up and pushin’ out babies.” His heart skips a beat at that thought but he closes his eyes and reminds himself that he diced Rollins into easy to handle pieces.

"Well she's not running because she's afraid of it." Sophia observes, sipping her drink. "She looks at you like you...what's the phrase?" One glance up at Tex and she remembers it. "Like you hung the stars in the sky."

“She’s gotta– gotta heal first.” Jack murmurs quietly. Taking another sip of his drink and watching you talk with Gabi and Astrid.

"Heal?" Tex's face flashes anger immediately but since Jack looks upset rather than angry it dissipates immediately. "What the hell happened? She looks fine."

“She– uh, she was kidnapped a week ago.” Jack tells Tequila brokenly. “Someone– it was… the same person who killed my Abigail and baby boy. Took her and tortured her.”

The way Tequila absorbs that information is the instant and yet simultaneously thorough turning of gears that marks him as an intelligence agent. Has he heard the words and absorbed their meaning? Absolutely. But is he still processing their full implication? That could take an extra moment. "Tell me you took care of it," he hisses, trying to even imagine half of what he would do to someone who hurt Sophia, let alone two of his soulmates. "Tell me you took care of it or we're leaving in the Silver Pony right now."

“They are in tiny pieces.” Jack confirms. “Never gunna hurt her again. I made sure of it.” His satisfaction is grim and he’s never told you that he’s got a video file of what he had done to Rollins, captured through his glasses, on his phone for when he needs a reminder the bastard is dead.

"Good." Both the agents in front of him - Tequila and Isolde - nod seriously. "So what she needs is to take her mind off things?" Sophia raises an eyebrow at both men. "Or should I be aiming her right at wedding thoughts to have her giddy to be proposed to?"

“I’m gunna propose after her grand openin’.” He admits quietly. “Her daddy’s bringing me her grandmother's ring. Gonna give her that and a ring to go with it from me.”

"So get her excited, then." That seems to delight Sophia, who has a mischievous streak several kilometers long. "Cheers."

“She’ll try to ignore being excited.” Jack predicts. “But remind her that it’s okay to dream. To want things.” A lot of this is because of the way he treated you, and he knows it will take time to completely fix things.

“Consider it done.” An intrigue, her mother would have called it, and Sophia has always loved a good intrigue.

“But, doesn’t mean I don’t want her to focus on your weddin’.” Jack promises. “Ain’t lookin’ to steal your thunder.”

“Jack, I, uh—” Readjusting his stance and wiping his palms on his jeans, Tex is the very picture of nerves. “I wanted to ask you to be my best man, if you weren’t still pissed at me.”

Jack looks seriously at Tex, knowing that the boy is still unsure of their standing despite the greeting. He swallows, emotional and soft at the idea. “I’d be honored.” He answers honestly, reaching out and pulling him in for another hug. “Fuckin’ honored.”

“Good.” It’s as heartfelt a moment as could be between the two men, and Sophia smiles as she rubs a hand gently on her soulmate’s back. “He was bloody terrified to ask on the way over in case you were still mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” Jack asks, making sure that the boy holds his gaze. “I was wrong.” He admits. “I owe you an apology. I shoulda made sure you knew the score. I’m sorry.”

“And I shouldn’t’ve overreacted.” Tex isn’t fool enough to think he didn’t go overboard by hauling off and laying Jack out flat. But clearing the air is what they both need. “I’m glad it’s behind us.”

“Water under the bridge.” Jack waves it away, aware that he shouldn’t have hit him, but Jack was being a jackass. “Let’s just leave that in the past.”

“Right.” Tex nods, glad to have it all aired out, and looks over at Sophia with a grin. “I’m gonna go show off my lady,” he announces unrepentantly. “Can we sit and eat with you guys later on? Catch up?”

“Go on.” Jack nods and waves them away. “Gotta make sure Champ doesn’t ruin the brisket.”

“I would not!” Champ looks scandalized at that the way only a Texas man can, and all three men laugh before Tex bundles Sophia up against him and goes out into the yard to say hello to old friends.

Jack chuckles and nudges Champ with his shoulder. “Guess things are lookin’ good. ‘Cept I know you’ll miss the kid.”

“I will.” Champ is not too proud a man to admit that he’ll miss his only child. “But every boy’s gotta leave home to grow, don’t they?”

“They do.” Jack admits, knowing his life would have been much different if he hadn’t left the ranch. Even under those circumstances. He honestly wonders what the world would be like if Jack Daniels had never become Agent Whiskey. It’s a sobering thought. “Good thing the kid knows that he’s welcome home whenever he needs a soft place to land.”

“Yeah.” Champ huffs a laugh as he inspects the progress the meat is making in the smoker. “Your house.” He doesn’t grouse about it, though, he only chuckles. “I know he’ll do well. It’s just hard to see him go.”

“I know, but the kid is a helluva agent.” Jack beams with pride, since he had helped train the kid. “You and Di did a fine job.”

“Give it a little time, Jack.” There’s confidence in Champ’s tone. It’s soft, but it’s there. “Yours will be just as headstrong and determined as you and their mama.”

“It scares the hell out of me.” Jack confesses, looking over at where you are talking with Rye, flown in from New York. You had given him a hug and there were some tears, but you had waved him off from coming over. “What if I lose her? Another baby?” He chokes out. “It’ll kill me.”

“The man who took your family - who tried to take this one - is dead.” Champ reminds him quietly, abandoning the smoker to focus entirely on his friend. “I know it’s hard to remember, but I’ll remind ya every day if you’re needin’ it. What else could hurt her - birth? Not with Ginger hoverin’ over her the whole time. Ain’t no disease we can’t tackle. No danger that Statesman can’t pull her back from. And shit,” Champ clicks his tongue. “With how well she did under pressure? Leavin’ you her bracelet as a clue an all? Keepin’ her secrets like she did? Even if there were other people out there who might wanna make a target out of a Statesman agent’s wife, I’d be more afraid for them then I am for her.”

“She’s a goddamn goddess, isn’t she?” Quiet pride fills him as he stares at you in a way that has his eyes watering slightly. Just drinking in the sight of his soulmate happy and healthy. “I never believed in second soulmates, never wanted one.” He knows that Champ is completely aware of that. “But I’m goddamn proud that this is who the universe chose for me.”

“She loves the hell out of you.” The older man claps Jack on the back in a friendly, playful gesture. “Can’t for the life of me figure out why, but you’re goddamn lucky.”

“Don’t I know it.” It’s a far cry from his viewpoint a month ago, but it’s amazing what can happen when you let the fear go.

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

DtRH: @haileymorelikestupid @spishsstuff @missmarmaladeth @axshadows @a-gay-cryptid @sgt-morgan @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @flowers4copper @ghost-timelord @the0racl30fd3lphidos @all-the-way-down-here @bobafvcker @ficsbynight @dinoflower @supernaturalgirl20 @xdaddysprincessxx @bobawh0re @amiee-mitch18 @darkhairedmenrule @heyyimlaynna @strawberry-f4iry @3zm33atzbuss33 @whataghost @cyber666slut @nobody-000 @eddiemunsonsgirlfriendirl @lucciolaraven @powergirlsupremacy @secondsistershelby @dreadmars @androgynoushellscape @soytomatecherry @cheesecake-massacre @mylifeisbasedonashow @idiotickiddo @tomfeltonisbae @maratheidiot22 @im-nada @everybirdfellsilent @deepdarkdelights @brokenwhitegirl384 @ur-honey-child @caseket @copperrose15 @we-could-have-been @valkyries-ride @scarletmunson @strawberriricemilk @ghost-timelord @galactigoos @floridawaters @cutiepie6473 @pinball-vance @theslytherinwriter @scorpioswonder @stankyleg05 @fxdsketches @sad-innit @coffeyorky @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @starlordsonlywife @aura626 @mistresskei @marv3lwhor3 @sadimusprimee @yourwonderbelle @sgt-morgan @spot116 @milybaby018 @loserk1nks @artfulthoughtswp @aavw @babyrunsforfanfic @faceache111 @midnight-huntress @asimpleraccoonqueen @marki-moo0 @pages89 @rawr-bitches @rebel-fanfare @soooosha @luna-is-out-there @im-sylien @timpletance @certifiedhunter @ellenmunn @littlethief78 @tinalbion @eddy-y @tikibabi @whyidkok @bearcoon1666 @littlebirdsbookshelf @a-gay-cryptid @disaster-ahaha @viridiesa @axshadows @purplerain04 @karmarouge @holycyclehomo @sainteredhood @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @the-wishmonger @theliferuiner @raptorclaw24 @asp1r1ngm1lf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @st4rl1ght444 @litholithium @tusk89 @youjustneedatherapist @nekodemon73 @iceclaw101 @lightningsface @shakespeareanwannabe @jasminemunson @spideysimpossiblegirl @wannabedaphne @sammus-white @jazzieomega @88dragon06 @ishabull @raquel-rial @tuquoquebrute @hotleaf-juice @dantaku @youokhoney @thisiswhyibleedsstuff @maximumkryptonitegladiator @jediknight122 @gadsgikklesen @movievillainess721 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @the-strawberrythief @spishsstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @haileymorelikestupid @gooddaykate @missredherring @abyssal-zone-stares-back @supernaturalgirl @winterandstars @severewobblerlightdragon @missmarmaladeth @noisynaia @saintbedelia @algressman16 @eaks0710 @mina2000alex @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @akaleelanie @mishasminion360 @amneris21 @roxypeanut @lunarcatbun 118 @frasmotic @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @lovelychaos420 @1432690 @no1pornstachefan @thegrimreaperbitch @esmeensheep @izz-ayes-world @kittycatcait219 @loveyou3000tonystark @tintinn16 @igenerallytrynottogiveagoshdarn @motheroftorches @phoenixhalliwell @the-dazzling-urbanite @coffeyorky @trickstersp8 @victorian-cherub @julissadunn @clarysthing @the-girl-that-loves-many-fandoms @mastersurf @theghostofutopia @ncsls0515 @seraphinaivy @hiyorinatsuki @ghostofaboy @yn-hamato @elfwriter1088 @sunnygrey99 @lexinicolenix @lazyemisfandomtrash @curiouskeyboard @qualityearthquakes @spider-284748 @unnecesarysstuff @sgt-morgan @love-affair-with-fandoms @lunarcatbun @kstar770 @kykymarty @supergingerlocks @hell0kittybimb0222 @a-birds-fin @loidforgerishotashell @mythical-writer @ghostshalo @avengersimaginesfan @sccialcasualty @lordecult @petalo-dropsart @i-quite-like-eating-carrots @svudetective @hasta-la-pasta-bb @manicpixiedreamgirly @destinydog @skeppycarnation @anaisweird @critters-beware @fruityforcocoapuffs @linnnniie @spideyromantic @paupeach2024 @faithxyu @fxramir @legomyeggo @jjggdfvvy @hi-my-name-is-riley @kasaikawa @lost-ghost-thats-sleepy @callmegkiddo @2dead2function @generallysleepdeprived @failingclassesinmygucciglasses @thebeesknees42 @moonmoon007 @wi0na @cilliansangel @lostinsideourminds @angstismydrug @elvenmother @bilibiche @kettlekatie @preschoolispunk @djarinsstuff @generallysleepdeprived @love-affair-with-fandoms @jay-ghostly @wowieitbeme @fanofverymanythings @josephquinnswhore @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive @djarinsstuff @justherebecausesafarisucks @cedricbitch @rebel-soldat @madisonred88

My Masterlist!

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

252 notes · View notes

trippin-chippin · 2 months

Text

This doodle is kinda messy and aint the best, but it tells a hilarious story :D

So whiskey is basically embarrassing jackey in front of the whole church, since many in that little town looks up to her…..💀

I dunno, I though it was funny

#cuphead #cuphead oc #cuphead au #dani talks #the crownroyals #daniel crownroyal #whiskey crownroyal #moonshine bailey #jackey crownroyal #before 1999 #whisk and moon as kids #shitpost #doodle #art #artists on tumblr #cartoon artist #mr gentleman jack

19 notes · View notes

pennyserenade · 2 years

Photo

his girl friday

pairing: agent whiskey x female oc , agent whiskey x original female character summary: despite the fact that jack daniels has what he wants, he still finds himself dissatisfied as he, tequila, and alicia make their way to the first location of the mission: las vegas. warnings: language, alcohol mention, jack being jack word count: 4.3k+ rating: m ( mature ) author’s note: so many things to say. firstly, sorry this took three months. don’t know what happened there. secondly is that i did not intend for tequila to be such a big part of this story, but i guess he is now. he’s grown on me while i wrote this. lastly, but certainly not least, thank you for the continual support with this fic. i have such a good time writing it and an even better time sharing it with you all.

LAST CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER SIX: BABY, LET’S PLAY HOUSE

“Undergarments, slips, stockings. Now just for the actual clothes…”

Alicia places her belongings neatly in the open suitcase she’s sat on the bed. Archie stands closely behind her, fiddling with the zipper on her dress, helping her to undo it. The warm feel of his finger against her skin makes her ache in a way she’s not missed since she’s begun staying with him regularly. These are the drawn out touches of a man who is about to miss her terribly, and as much as she wants to relish them, she knows it is doing neither of them any good.

“What do you think is airport appropriate at this time of night? Should I go with a skirt or would a pair of pants be better?” She continues on casually. Moving to the closet, she steps away from his touch completely. “I think I’ll wear those brown pair of pants and a white blouse with the buttons and the sleeves. Maybe a scarf to make it more professional. What do you think?”

Sitting himself on their bed, Archie smiles at her. “You’d look wonderful in a burlap sack.”

“You flatter me. I’ll have to try not to miss that too much.” Her hands rummage through the shirts, filtering through the different hues in the same design and fabric, until she finds the white one. Reaching behind her to undo what Archie had been too distracted to, she takes off the party dress so she can put it on. This action inspires Archie to rise once more to his feet and carry himself over to her.

“It’ll be over before we know it. Then you’ll be all mine again, and we’ll be married in no time,” he assures. He reaches forward and takes the shirt from her hands. This allows her to take the white slip she still has on.

Instead of handing the shirt back to her when she’s done, Archie takes one of her hands and slips it in one of the sleeves. She lets him, watching longingly as he takes her other hand and does the same until the fabric is on her, with the front open. He pulls her closer to him with the open sides of the shirt and presses his lips tenderly to the middle of her chest.

“Archie.”

His nose scraps against her jaw as he brings himself up to meet her eyes. “I will have to try too hard to not miss that,” he responds playfully.

She begins to do up the buttons of the shirt, trying not to be distracted by his presence, but he pushes her fingers aside and takes up the task himself. She can’t help but smile at the simple gesture; at how intimate it is. In all her years, she’s never had a man dress her before, just to touch her a little longer.

“Don’t do up the top button, please. It makes me feel suffocated.”

“I won’t,” he replies. “You might want to take more than one suitcase if you’re going to be gone for a month. This shirt is awfully puffy and if I recall correctly, some of your skirts and dresses are that way too. I don’t know if it’ll all fit.”

She laughs. “I’ve perfected packing them by now. Besides, those suitcases of yours are larger than normal. They could fit a small child and a little doggy.”

“That’s what we say when we get them made. ‘Make them big enough to fit a small American child and its small doggy, please, or they won’t be any use to us.’ We’ve been asking that for generations now and the man who makes them knows the rule. But, with you around we might ought to have to start saying, ‘And enough room for many puffy sleeves’ too. We’ll see.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t inconvenience the man just for me. I’ll be happy to adjust to the Leach way. Our children’s children will be asking for the very same.”

His fingers finish with the last button of her shirt and he reaches up behind her, taking down the brown pair of pants she’d had in mind. “Is that what you want? Children?” He takes the pants off the hanger and passes them to her. “If it is, I’m sorry about what I said to my father tonight about us not having. I wouldn’t mind, I just didn’t want him thinking it was set in stone or anything just because he wanted it.”

Stepping into the pants, she shrugs. “I’m not sure about that just yet. I didn’t really think I’d ever have to make my mind up about any of this, really, you see, so it’s all come as a surprise.”

Before she can think about doing it herself, Archie reaches down between them and buttons the pants. He holds the fabric between his fingers for a bit, hovering. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I thought to ask that now. I really don’t care whether you wish to or not.” He offers her a pitiful smile. “I seem to be saying all the wrong things tonight.”

Alicia rests her arms around his neck and kisses the side of his mouth. “It has been a day, I don’t fault you.”

Archie shifts his head to allow him to kiss her on the lips. For a moment, she indulges him, letting him deepen it and press his body closer to hers. She even takes hold of his tux lapels, half encouraging his affections.

“You’ve got to pack,” he remembers, resting his forehead against her own. “That damn cowboy is going to be here any minute, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” she whispers softly. “Remember, just one month.”

“One month,” he repeats. “Then there will be no more cowboys.”

“No more cowboys.”

“Or my parents,” he adds. “I promise that, too. I mean, they will be here, but not like now. I know they haven’t been making it easy—“

A knock falls upon the door. “Archie? Archie, Ms. Alicia’s guests are here. Would you like me to take them to the sitting room?”

“Yes, that'd be fine, Nora. I’ll be out in just a moment,” he calls over his shoulder. Glancing down at his watch, he grins. “He’s incredibly punctual. My father would love this man.”

“Go entertain while I pack up the rest?” she asks. “I’ll be out in just a moment. I’ve got a vague idea about what I should take already, so it shouldn't take long.”

Archie kisses her cheek. “If you need someone to sit on the suitcase, I’ll be in the sitting room.”

“Thank you,” she smiles. “Oh and Archie, if he wants a drink, please don’t offer him any Jack Daniels unless he asks. He won’t find that very funny, I don’t think.”

Archie grins. “That’s a shame. Maybe he’ll be more enticed by a Shirley Temple? I heard she liked them.”

“Be kind.”

“Oh, always to the men who want to take my wife from me.” Archie winks.

“You’ve never been to a baseball game here? That can’t be! And you’re supposed to be the real Americans, you cowboys.”

Archie stands leaned against the fireplace, his forearm resting against the mantelpiece with a tumbler in his hand. He looks slightly disheveled, but in the way women in the movies do when they wake with a full face of makeup and only slightly ruffled hair. He still wears his tuxedo from the engagement party, only without the coat this time, and his tie is loosened. Jack and Tequila sit on the couch, tumblers in their own hands, watching him. They’ve changed out of their party suits and into their regular clothes.

Alicia has always wondered what about men commands so much respect from other men. She’s been half sure Archie has been working on turning his playful grudge against Jack into something real, but now he stands, playing entertainer, and Jack sits, sipping his alcohol, pleased. Jack Daniels, who is stubborn as can be, more set in his ways than any one person she’s ever known, is sitting in the living room of the man he doesn’t want her to marry, talking about American baseball like they’re old friends.

Alicia enters the room, sitting her bag down beside her. “I let you into my home for less than fifteen minutes and you have him speaking about sports? I’ve never heard any of you speak about sports before.”

They all look at each other, as if they’re in on a secret.

“We’re just trying to make an awkward go at conversation,” Archie lets her in. “I do like baseball, though. I go to those games occasionally.”

“I didn’t know you were so fond of the game.”

“I was born in New York; it’s more local pride than anything else.”

“I don’t think I was born with any of that pride,” she jokes.

“Sure you were. After the wedding, I’ll take you to one of them and you’ll find it.” He looks back to Jack and Tequila. “I’ll take all of you if you can find the time. I know a few of the players and I’m sure I can get us some good seats.”

Jack rises from the couch and sits the glass of alcohol on the table. “We’ll have to check our schedules. It's been a busy year for Statesmen as you know, so I’m not quite sure we’ll be able to get away by then. We expect a busy summer.” He looks at Alicia, eyes full of something she can’t quite pin. “Are you ready, Pinkie?”

“Pinkie?” Archie arches his brow, eyes falling onto her.

“Sorry, that’s a habit I’ve yet to break,” Jack apologizes.

“What’s the story behind it?”

“She likes pink champagne. We all have nicknames like that,” Tequila interjects, grinning. “I’m Tequila, she’s Pinkie, our boss is Champ. It makes it easier to communicate.”

“Ah, so you’re not really Jack Daniels?” Archie asks Jack.

“‘Fraid so. Guess you could say I was born for the job.”

Archie grins, tilting his drink in Jack’s direction. “I know the feeling.”

Deciding now is the best time to break up this boy’s club before anything else is revealed, Alicia nods at Jack. “I’m ready now,” she tells him.

There’s a change in Archie’s demeanor, subtle to most but noticeable to her. He stands straighter against the fireplace, with that agreeable smile of his molding into something less set on making others believe he’s the epitome of hospitality. It's still warm, the way he turns his lips up, but his eyes let her in on his secret: he’s begun to realize she’s really leaving now. She likes it no more than he does, and she knows she’s got to leave before it settles in the pit of her stomach and sours.

Jack goes to take the suitcase from her hands but Archie steps forward, putting his hand out. With knitted brows, Jack looks up at the man.

“You don’t mind if I take these down for her do you? I want to give her a proper goodbye,” he explains.

Alicia passes the bag to Jack. “You take them down to the car, and I’ll follow you both down in a bit. We’ll have that proper goodbye up here.”

Jack nods obediently and takes the suitcase. “Thank you for the drink,” he tells Archie. “I hope we’ll be able to make it to one of those ball games you speak about.”

“Me too,” Archie says. “Keep her safe for me, won’t you?”

“I don’t think you know who you’re marrying, Mr. Leach. She’ll be the one keeping us safe,” Tequila laughs. “Thanks again for letting us steal her away for a bit longer. She’s a real asset to our company.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming to the party – both of you. I’ll be happy to see you again at the wedding.”

When he and Tequila find themselves out of the apartment completely, and it is just she and Archie once more, she offers Archie an apologetic grin. “One month,” she reminds him again. She rises up on her toes to kiss him softly on the lips and he kisses her back, placing his hand on the small of her back.

“Yes, one, long month. It’ll give the lifetime I waited before a run for its money, I’m afraid.”

She kisses both sides of his mouth, his cheek, and then his lips once more. “Don’t be swept away by any millionaires while I’m gone.”

“I promise I won’t if you promise you won’t find yourself infatuated by any alcohol experts. Or men who knew how to tie knots before they were sworn into boy scouts.”

She holds up three fingers, giving him her scouts honor. He kisses her finger tips, stifling his laughter. “Goodbye Pinkie,” he tells her, drawing out the word ‘Pinkie.’ It sounds so odd coming from him. She thinks it's probably got something to do with the fact that she’s hardly ever heard it outside of Jack's teasing tone.

“Goodbye Archibald.”

“Please stop looking at me like that. I can’t focus when you do.”

Leaning back in his seat, Jack props his feet up on the chair opposite of him. He obeys Alicia’s request, turning his eyes out to the darkened skies that lay above her beloved New York. “We’ve got it figured out for the most part,” he tells her, “I just couldn’t tell you off the top of my head where we were going first,” he says, rubbing the growing stumble alongside his jaw.

“Las Vegas,” she groans. Despite himself, Jack can’t help but look back at her. The way her face crunches up in dissatisfaction makes him smile.

“S’not so bad. I kinda like it out there.”

“It's a desert. Of course you wouldn’t mind it.”

He takes a cigarette out of the pack sitting on the little table in front him. Before he closes it, he offers her one, but she shakes her head no. He doesn’t blame her. These are the cigarettes that come complementary with all Statesman flights, but they’re Woodbines. He bets Ginger gets them because she doesn’t smoke.

“What’s the matter, didn’t pack any good outfits in that heavy fuckin’ suitcase of yours?”

“I packed just fine. I was just hoping that we’d go somewhere a bit cooler before Nevada.” She lays the map she’s been staring out flat onto the table, abandoning it. Jack moves his ashtray to the one next to them in order not to burn it. “I didn’t miss any of that heat.”

Tequila, who sits on the couch to the left of them, has been flipping idly through the television stations for minutes now. “It’ll be fun,” he tells Alicia, looking in their direction. “You just gotta be willing to gamble.”

Jack laughs, blowing out the smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Gamble? She already won the jackpot. Don’t you remember the apartments we were in tonight?”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “I just knew you’d find a way to say something about that. Can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Oh, honey, I’m thrilled for you. Tickled fuckin’ pink. You’ll be spending the rest of your days in an apartment that costs more than a home and meeting New York’s finest baseball players. I envy you. I wish I had found him first.”

Tequila abandons the tv and takes a seat next to Jack at the table. “You can still have fun,” he tells Alicia, ignoring Jack’s nonsense. “Bet in something other than money if you want.” He pauses, thinking for a moment. Then he grins. “Ask Jack to shave his mustache if you make more than him on the floor.”

Alicia watches as the end of Jack’s cigarette burns a bright, angry red. “I don’t think he’ll part with that stupid thing. I’ve tried since I met him.”

Jack flicks the end above the ashtray. “I will,” he nods, “I will if you bet to let us stay an extra week in Vegas.”

“That’ll throw the entire thing behind and I swore I’d only stay a month. I meant that.” She glances back down at the map. “Jack, those crests had dates on the back of them. We've got to be in Newport in a week's time, so that won’t work regardless.”

“Well, I’ll do it if you bet to be my secretary for two weeks. You can do it after you get hitched, if you please, because I know that’s important to you.”

She clicks your tongue. “Isn’t it enough that I’ve been your girl Friday since I started working with you?”

“C’mon Alicia, it’s all a part of gambling. The thrill of winning and the risk of losing.” Jack encourages. “Isn’t that right, Tequila?”

Tequila shrugs. “It might be fun. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to see him without it, you know?”

“And I've always wondered if she was capable of being a secretary.”

She shakes her head. “I’ve always been too overqualified.”

“Outspoken, more like.”

Alicia narrows her eyes. “You know what? Why not? Except I want to be the one to shave it if you lose. I want to see the light go out in your eyes when I take away your prized possession.”

Jack shakes his head, laughing. “I’m a good gambler, Pinkie. You’re playing a precarious game.”

“Me too. I won the jackpot, didn’t I?”

“And she found him in a deli, too. That’s one in a million,” Tequila adds, nudging Jack. When they both give him curious stares, he clarifies: “I heard someone mention it at the engagement party.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack stamps out his cigarette.

“Oh, speaking of being hitched,” Jack suddenly remembers, hand digging into his coat pocket. He retrieves the small familiar gold band and places it on the table before Alicia. “For you, Mrs. Chapman.”

Alicia takes the jewelry in her hand. “We’re still playing at that?”

“Before you came back into the works again, we figured Jack would keep at the Mr. Chapman bit.”

“Don’t you think they’d figure we stole all of those crests, as we didn’t ask for one and we left early.”

“Yeah I did figure that,” Jack says. “But I was just gonna feign ignorance and tell them you were sickly at that party. Say that’s why we didn’t accept anything and left early. Was gonna say you got something like cancer and I was here to put you to rest, too.”

“You didn’t need me,” she says, glaring. “Now what?”

Jack shrugs noncommittally. “Guess we’ll just have to wear disguises and be different this time around.”

“That might be better anyways, since your engagement party just happened and more folks are likely to recognize you now.” Tequila reaches beside him and takes a notebook from the side of the chair. He lays it out in front of him and waits for words to write.

“We should be Texan this time,” Jack suggests.

Alicia shakes her head. “No,” she says firmly. “We’ll be from Washington and we’ll be on vacation for the first time in our lives.”

Tequila jots down Alicia’s suggestions. “Newly married?” he asks, still scribbling.

“Being newly wed puts too much attention on you. Say we’ve been married for two years and we’re getting away before we settle down,” Jack says.

Tequila looks at Alicia for permission. She nods and Jack scoffs.

“I’m sorry, Jack, but this was her job before she started getting field stuff with you. She’s always been good at it.”

“Her job was to teach you to sell the fuckin’ bit, not make you characters!”

Alicia beams. “But I was good at that, wasn’t I? I always liked making up stories.”

“Burke.” Jack ignores her. “That’ll be the last name we use. She’ll be…Jolene, and I’ll be George.”

“I’ll be Betty. Jolene’s too Texan.”

“Alright, Betty. Betty and George Burke, two years married and located in…Seattle, Washington?” Jack casts his eyes in her direction, looking for approval, just as Tequila had. What a hypocrite, she thinks, smiling.

“Seattle’s fine,” she nods. “When we land, I’ll call Ginger and ask for a wig for me. I think you can pass with a pair of sunglasses and a hat, if you stay low. They don’t know Tequila, so he can dress as he pleases – vacation appropriate, that is. Look like a tourist.”

Writing the last bits of information down, Tequila lets out a sigh of relief. “I’m sure glad you’re back, honey, because Jack's demands go down a helluva lot harder than yours do. Sure missed being around someone who treats me like a human.”

“How’d you manage to sneak your way into this organization?” Jack says in disbelief. “Does your dad work here or something?”

Alicia rolls her eyes and Tequila doesn’t answer him. His eyes sit instead with the information they gave him to write, processing it and developing a more thorough plan for himself, most likely. She takes the map in front of her and begins to fold it up. Having forgotten the ring Jack gave back to her was on it, she watches now as it slides off the paper and in the opposite direction. Before she can get it herself, Jack has his flattened palm over it, capturing it. She looks up at him and she sees that stupid little smirk of his. He wears it much too often for someone who couldn’t manage to do a single mission without her. “What?” she spats out, annoyance lacing her words.

“You can’t help yourself,” he tells her.

“What are you talking about?”

“This.” He motions between the three of them, and then to the rest of the plane. “You like it, being a Statesman worker. I see it in your eyes. As soon as we started planning, you lit up like a little Christmas tree. I certainly didn’t see any of that at the party.”

“I’m plenty content with my life as is.”

“But excited? Are you really excited? I don’t think Archie is going to give you what you feel here, and I think deep down, you know it.”

She lifts his hand off the ring and slides it back in her direction. “Jack, you haven’t the faintest idea what Archie can or can’t give me. What’s more is that you don’t know what I want. I thought you’d know better than to start this again.”

“His cock can’t be that good,” Jack grunts, leaning back in his chair.

Tequila rises his head from the notepad, mouth open. “Jack!” he scolds, brows furrowed.

“It’s okay, Tequila. Jack’s still struggling with the idea that women are allowed to make their own choices. If it was up to him, we’d all be under his thumb. Isn’t that right, cowboy?”

“Cowboy,” he mimics, making a face. “I think you’re making a mistake, is all. You’re good at this–too good to throw it away for a life you won’t even like.”

“You don’t know me!” she shouts.

“I do so!” Jack yells back. “I’ve had to know you to work with you. I know what you’re going to do before you fuckin’ do it because our lives depend on it. Don’t tell me that.”

She shakes her, adamant. “You don’t know me in the way that matters. You might know where I’ll step next or where I’ll shoot, but you don’t know how I feel. You never have. The problem with you has always been that you don’t consider the feelings of others, you prick. I got stuck with you on this job because of that.”

Looking back and forth between Alicia and Jack, Tequila scrunches up his face. He looks halfway between pained and indecisive. “I think I know why they make you a married couple so often.”

“Oh, shut up!” Jack barks, crossing his arms over his chest. He leans towards the window, perfecting that pout of his.

Alicia, always more cool-headed than he, smiles weakly at Tequila. “I’m sorry. It seems I’ve made it a habit to fight with him in every place we go.”

“Many have,” Tequila sympathizes, feeling a bit of his own ire for the man now.

Reaching across the table for the cigarette pack Jack’s abandoned, she sighs. Her eyes go towards the window Jack stares out of, watching nothing but the blackness that appears before them. “I’ll play house with you once more, Jack,” she addresses him softly, pressing out her anger, “But then that’s that. I don’t want to hear anymore about it.”

Jack huffs, not giving her an answer.

“Well, to your last mission,” Tequila offers, tugging gently at her sleeves. He offers her a warm smile, trying to stamp out the awkward air that’s been created.

Alicia lights the end of her cigarette. As the comfort of the nicotine fills her, she takes off her engagement ring and puts the fake wedding ring in its place. “Thank you,” she says, watching the way the light overhead catches on the metal.

Despite herself, for a reason she can’t possibly decipher, she does find herself feeling a little downcast looking at this stupid ring. If Jack was nicer, and if he really cared, he would know that she does feel sad leaving this behind. He’d know it was no easy decision, not something she did on a whim. There was no backing out involved, no cowardice. If Jack wasn’t Jack maybe she wouldn’t have to feel so bad leaving it behind. Maybe she could see them all again; send them Christmas cards and invite them to dinners annually, with the knowledge that none of them would slip up about this life she had led. He’d know that these people, even him, have been the only real family she’s had since her parents passed. And he’d know that for the first time in years, she managed to feel safe and happy here, like she really belonged for once. But Jack is Jack, and all he thinks is himself. There will never be a place in her real life for him.

Jack Daniels is no friend, and he’s certainly not family. He is just someone she’s been made to play house with over and over, and he’s gotten confused about where that life ends and the real life begins. This has to be it for them -- for her.

#jack daniels #kingsman #kingsman the golden circle #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #agent whiskey x oc #jack daniels x oc #agent whiskey x ofc #jack daniels x ofc

27 notes · View notes