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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 months

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Change of Plans

A/N: Although I am SEVERAL days late at this point, this is a gift for @something-tofightfor - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RACHAEL! I hope your day was all that you wanted it to be, and that this year is the best fucking one yet. I so badly wanted this to be done in time, but you know me. Anywho, I love your guts and I hope you enjoy this chaotic little cake I whipped up with the help of one of your favorite cowboys.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: listen, don't do what Reader does here. Other than that... just some language. It's very tame. But don't do it.

Summary: Jack is there on business. You're there for pleasure.

He noticed you right away.

Sitting in the waiting area near gate A-7, right leg crossed over your left and an open book in one hand, you caught his eye -

Well hello, gorgeous.

- and he had to repeatedly free his focus from your direction, reminding himself why he was at the airport in the first place.

Damn it, Agent, you’ve got a job to do.

You turned the page of the book you were reading, letting out a sigh and stretching your neck, and Jack adjusted his position on the barstool he occupied so that he was forced to change his line of sight. He cleared his throat, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a sip. The bold, smoky flavor of the deep amber whiskey coated his tongue, and by the time he swallowed he was back on his task.

He’d been sent to locate and detain a known associate of a crime boss that Statesman was attempting to bring down. Intel gathered from Agents assigned to the case suggested that the associate - a mid level player who occasionally dealt in black market weapons - would be traveling through Louisville on his way to meet with the mysterious and nefarious man they knew only as The Gatekeeper. The current theory was that The Gatekeeper was operating out of San Francisco - or more specifically, out of a secret underwater lair that was built into one of the foundational structures of the Golden Gate Bridge, hence his nickname. But Statesman had been unable to confirm that yet. Catching up with the Gatekeeper’s gun runner was their best bet when it came to pinning down his location for sure, and since he had the most experience with facial recognition and planting trackers, the assignment had gone to Agent Whiskey.

So let’s find this shit kicker and get on with it so I can get on with… He resisted the urge to turn back in your direction.

Setting his glass down on the cork coaster it was served to him on, he brought his newly emptied hand up to tap the arm of his gold wire glasses. At the touch of his fingertip, the stealth lens screens activated, and he used them to scan the faces of the people moving through the terminal. So far none had hit as a match for the Gatekeeper’s associate, but since the man was clever enough to book himself tickets on multiple flights that day to make it harder for anyone who might be looking to follow him, Jack had to keep checking until he either found his target or the last of those flights had taken off.

I’ll find him. Soon as he shows up I’ll-

But Jack didn’t even need to finish the thought, because his lenses detected the person he’d been waiting for before he could. Just as he was about to get up from his seat and position himself to intercept his target, though, he saw something else flash across his lenses.

Mission directive has changed. Do not detain. Intel from Kingsman suggests associate may also be working with Golden Circle remnants in Canada. New directive is only to place the tracker and not to pursue until we know for sure who he is meeting. Agents in Vancouver and San Francisco have been put on alert and will be activated as needed.

Jack blinked twice to acknowledge Ginger’s message, then used the movement of his eyes to send a question in response.

Received. Return to HQ?

He had his jet on standby there at the airport in the event that he needed to abscond with The Gatekeeper’s man, and he assumed that since that was no longer necessary, Champ and Ginger would want him to come back and await further information. Keeping one eye on his target, he used the other to read the new message that flashed across his lens, finding it to be a surprise.

Negative. Don’t want to risk the chance of counter tracking. Take the Pony somewhere for a few days first. Vegas or Denver are preferable but Mexico City is also available.

Well, shoot. Looks like I’m takin’ a vacation. My favorite kind of mission.

Ginger had listed cities where Statesman owned properties that were reserved for off duty use - for when Agents had to lay low for a while, or for when they needed a safe place to recover from injuries sustained in the line of duty. There were several more located around the world, but judging by the selection that was presented to him, they wanted him to stay close enough to either have him back in Kentucky in a matter of hours, or send him to California or British Columbia in a pinch when the intel on who the associate was meeting with came back.

Received. Target inbound. Contact when directive complete.

With that, he lifted his finger up to tap the arm of his glasses once more, the screens deactivating so that he could remove them, folding them for safe storage in the inner pocket of his jacket. In a turn of luck, his mark headed straight for the bar he was seated at and sat down two stools over. He showed no signs of having made Jack for a secret operative, not even bothering to look in his direction as he ordered a drink from the bartender.

Perfect.

Jack’s grin was imperceptible as he used his thumb and pointer finger to pull one of the small “buttons” from the cuff of his jacket sleeve. Flattening it with a tight pinch, he dropped the bio-tracker into his own beverage and watched as it dissolved into the liquid. It finished just as the bartender placed a rocks glass of whiskey on a coaster in front of Jack’s target. He waited for the other man to take a sip, and then he closed the distance, scooting over one stool so that he was right next to him, and then he greeted the man with a jovial tone.

“Did my ears deceive me just now, or did I hear you order the Statesman 12 year, my friend?” Jack pointed to the other man’s glass while holding his own.

The other man turned to face Jack, a semi-scowl on his face, his annoyance over being addressed by a seemingly drunken stranger as a “friend” clearly written in gray-green eyes. “What?” He glanced down at Jack’s glass and then at his own. “Oh.” He grunted and gave Jack a nod before taking another sip of his drink. “Yeah. You drinking the same, I take it?” He arched one eyebrow and turned back to face the television screen behind the bar without waiting for the answer to the question he’d just asked.

“Smoothest bourbon there is.” Jack held up his glass, inspecting the contents. To anyone else’s eye - even the man beside him - it would appear as though he were simply appreciating the way the overhead lights streaked through the rich amber liquid. In truth, he was making sure that the button-turned-tracker had been completely infused into the drink. Seeing that it was, he glanced over and caught his mark with his own glass midway to his lips once more.

Slow down there, son, leave some for our toast.

Reaching for the man’s elbow, he stopped him from draining the last of his beverage. “How about we both raise our glasses to good taste and safe travels?”

The other man jerked his arm away as though he’d been burned, the motion accompanied by a deeply frustrated sigh. Checking his watch, he rolled his eyes and shook his head at Jack. “Sure Fine. Just make it quick, I have a flight to catch.”

As he presented his glass for the toast, Jack aggressively clinked the rim of his against it - with just enough force so that some of his drink had sloshed into the other man’s glass without him noticing. “Quick it is. Safe travels.”

“Uh huh.” The sketch of a scowl was back as the man nodded again, knocking back the remainder of his drink, including the tracker. “Same to you.” With that, he slapped a fifty on the bar and left his empty glass, on his way to whatever gate would take him to whatever scumbag was waiting for him.

The Gatekeeper or the Golden Circle… or whoever the fuck else. We’ll know soon enough.

Taking his glasses back out of his pocket, Jack unfolded them and put them back on his face. With a tap of his finger the one-way screens hidden in the lenses activated again, and through a series of blinks and subtle eye movements, he sent confirmation of his mission back to Ginger Ale.

Tracker planted. Target in motion.

Before he got a response, though, he was distracted by a voice coming from over his shoulder. “Excuse me? Is anyone sitting there?”

He turned towards the speaker and his eyes widened, lips lifting into a slight grin when he saw that it was you.

Hot damn, she’s even prettier up close.

His grin grew at your sudden, small intake of breath when your eyes met. “All yours.” Using one hand, he pulled the stool out for you as Ginger’s message started to scroll across his field of vision.

You muttered a thank you as you chewed your lower lip. “You didn’t have to-”

Well done Agent Whiskey. The tracker is live and we are following its movement. Which location did you select?

“Now darlin’, what kind of gentleman would I be if I only did what I had to do?” He smiled, covertly answering Ginger’s question.

Not sure yet. Stay tuned.

You let out a sound that was almost a laugh, shrugging. “You’d be like most gentlemen I’ve known, I guess.”

Agent, we need to know-

Jack brought his hand up and tapped the side of his glasses, closing the communication screen and letting Ginger’s message go unfinished. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and it wouldn’t be the last. He always eventually got back to her and never made her wait too long. But his focus had been drawn to you all afternoon, and now that you were sitting directly beside him, he wasn’t going to rush the interaction he’d been putting off for hours.

“Then allow me to introduce to you a different kind.” He reached up and swept his hat from his head, laying it on the bartop, and extended his free hand to you. “Jack Daniels.”

– – –

15 Minutes Earlier…

You checked your watch with a sigh, noting that you still had a little under an hour before you’d be called for boarding.

It’s fine. That means I can start another chapter now. You rolled your eyes. I’ll need a new book for the flight home at this rate, though.

It was one of those flights that didn’t make sense - with a 4 hour layover in a city that was completely out of the way of your destination. But that was why you’d been able to find tickets for only $48 each way, less than three days out. Things at work had been hectic, and you weren’t sure if you were going to be able to get the time off until the very last minute. So even though it certainly wouldn’t have been your first choice if you’d been able to book it months ago when the trip was first brought up, you were perfectly content to take the unnecessary stopover in Louisville on your way to Las Vegas.

Doesn’t hurt when the people watching prospects are this interesting, either.

You glanced over at the nearby bar and the astoundingly attractive man seated there who’d snagged your attention as soon as he arrived. He, like a handful of others in the terminal, wore a dark felted Stetson But unlike most, it suited him. As did his perfectly tailored suit and-

Oh, fuck, he’s wearing glasses now. And they look damn good on him, too.

You cleared your throat and forced your thoughts back to your trip and your reason for taking the less than desirable layover. Even though it meant spending hours alone in an airport, you were excited, because it also meant being able to see several of your friends who lived far away, and being able to celebrate your birthday with them. Well, not just your birthday. The trip was meant to be a group celebration to make up for the fact that you hadn’t all been able to get together for a birthday in years. Since there happened to be two of you who had birthdays in January, that was the month that was chosen. But the dates that were settled on had included your actual birthday smack dab in the middle of them, and you were looking forward to having something fun to do with people you missed.

Which was why you groaned as you read the notification that popped up on your phone regarding the flight status.

Delayed - Mechanical Issues

“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath, closing the airline app and tapping your phone screen to open the group chat so you could fill the others in on your situation. Before you finished typing though, your phone vibrated in your hand and a picture popped up of two of your friends - Jess and Maddy - both wearing ear to ear smiles at Harry Reid International, the text from Jess simply reading two words followed by several exclamation marks: We’re here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kayla chimed in next, responding with an emphatic YAY! and sending a screenshot of her GPS, showing that she was just under 2 hours out. Be there so soon!

Nat still had her phone on airplane mode since she’d only taken off from LAX about an hour earlier, so you didn’t bother waiting for an update from her before you finished typing your own.

Bad news, my flight out of Louisville is delayed. :( Mechanical issues… No idea when I’ll be there now, but I’ll keep you all posted.

You sent the message and tucked your phone into the outer pocket of your bag as disappointment set in. As it was, the rest of your friends were already supposed to arrive half a day before you. But now, it was looking like you were going to miss out on the entire first day of the trip.

Or more.

Frowning at the thought, you tried not to let yourself get too upset until you had a better idea of your situation. You told yourself that it could be something quick and easy to remedy - maybe you’d only have to wait one more hour. Maybe less. Either way, you decided that since half of the group was already there, it meant that the vacation had unofficially started, and it was time you treated yourself to a drink.

And if I know Jess and Maddy, they’re doing the same right now.

You picked up your bag, slinging the strap over your shoulder, and headed towards the bar. It was moderately crowded, only a few stools left vacant scattered here and between other travelers. But as you got closer you noticed that the man you’d caught yourself spending more time watching than any of the others was still seated there - and that the seat beside him had just become empty.

Perfect timing.

That confidence lasted only until the man spun at the sound of your voice, and seeing him up close had nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.

Oh, shit. He’s-

By the time he’d given you his name along with his hand to shake, you’d noticed things about him that you hadn’t from across the room. Like the flecks of tan and gold that lightened his dark brown eyes, the distinct bow of his upper lip beneath his mustache and how it rested against the plush pillow of the lower one, the way you couldn’t see a stitch of leather on him aside from his boots, but the smell of it - along with bergamot - clung to him and made him even more appealing.

You swallowed, his warm hand wrapping around yours and squeezing as you managed to tell him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”

Without letting go of your hand or releasing your eyes from the lock his own had on them, he repeated your name back to you, the sound of it making your face grow warm. “Pleasure’s all mine, I promise you.”

When he winked as he withdrew his hand, you knew you were screwed. You ordered yourself a drink - something local, a bourbon you’d not seen before called Statesman - and Jack, though approving of your choice, simply asked for a glass of water. As you brought the glass to your lips, another thought popped into your head.

But am I really screwed, though? Because… he seems just as interested as I am.

Over the next half hour, you and Jack made small talk and subtly flirted in smirks and glances. You asked him what brought him to the airport that day, to which he’d answered:

“Had some business here earlier. But that’s done, so the rest of my evening is completely free.”

You shook your head at that, taking another sip of your drink. Damn that’s good. “Don’t you have a flight to catch?”

At that, he grinned and spread his large hands wide. “Ah, well, that is one of the perks of being my own pilot.” He raised one eyebrow and leaned towards you. “I can leave whenever I choose.”

Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. That definitely makes him even more attractive somehow, though.

You mouthed the word wow and let out a stunted laugh as you reached into your bag to retrieve your phone. Some time had passed and you were hoping that there would be another notification about the status of your delayed flight. “That must be nice.” You groaned as you saw that there was nothing new from the airline, and several texts from your friends expressing their dismay over your travel woes. Shaking the phone in your hand, you sighed. “I’m here on a layover that got delayed and the rest of my friends are already in Vegas.” Looking over at him, you wet your lips with your tongue. “I’d love to be able to just… hop in and take off whenever I wanted to.”

– – –

Well, shit. Did she just say Vegas?

Clearing his throat, Jack reached up to tap the arm of his glasses. Several missed messages came through at once, all from Ginger, but he blinked them away as he spoke. “Well, I know we’ve only just met, and I’m not trying to make any suggestions-” Though I could. “- But I happen to be going to Sin City myself tonight.” He had to contain his grin at the flash in your eyes as he used the nickname for the gambling town. “I’d be more than happy to take you with me.”

Destination selected. Las Vegas, Nevada, USA.

You sucked in a breath at his proposition, and though he knew you were likely considering saying no, he hoped you’d say yes. “I… Jack, I couldn’t ask you to-”

“You’re not. I’m askin’. I’ll show you my license and everything to prove that I’m legit, but darlin’, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.” He tilted his head towards the window. “No tellin’ how long they’ll need to fix that bird, and if your friends are already there…” He trailed off and shrugged, returning his gaze to you. “My jet is fully fueled and ready to go. I could get you there so you don’t have to miss out too much. More than you already have, I mean.”

He could practically hear Ginger’s reply when it came through, but he fought the urge to let out a snort as he read it.

IT’S ABOUT TIME, AGENT. Make sure your friend buckles up. We’ll contact you when you can return to HQ.

You bit your lower lip again, and he couldn’t help but watch the way your teeth dug into your flesh. “I…” He saw the rest of your protest dissolve the same way the tracker had earlier, your eyes shifting from skeptical to excited until that’s all he saw in them. You laughed, then, lifting your hand and holding up one finger. “Alright. I’ll… yes. I’ll take you up on it. But on one condition.”

Received. Will await contact. Over.

Jack reached up to tap his glasses before removing them and stowing them in his pocket. He leaned in closer to you, concentrating on the quirk of your lips and the mixture of impulse and instinct in your eyes. “Let’s hear it.”

“You let me buy you a drink once we get there.” You said it over the rim of your glass as you finished the last of it, eyes on him as you swallowed.

An excuse to go out with a beautiful woman? That’s the condition?

Jack flashed you a smile. “I think those terms are more than agreeable, ma’am.”

– – –

What the fuck am I doing?

You half laughed at yourself, but at the same time there was something about Jack that made you feel like you could trust him. You were aware that that could be a danger in and of itself, but your gut told you he was a good man, and you had always felt that you were a good and accurate judge of character.

How’s it any different from meeting a guy and getting in his car with him? It’s not, really.

It was, and you knew it was, but you hadn’t been wrong yet. And as much as you wanted to get to Vegas to see your friends, you also found yourself wanting more time to get to know Jack. He was offering you the chance to do both of those things, and even though you were looking for one, you couldn’t find a downside.

Pulling out your phone, you opened the group chat and sent one text before switching it to airplane mode.

Change of plans. Met a (really good looking) pilot who was on his way to Vegas and offered me a ride. Sending a screenshot of his license number in case I go missing hahaha. Just kidding. I’ll be fine. See you soon!

You knew what they’d say when they saw your message.

Jess would likely just send a thumbs up - or possibly a photo of herself giving a thumbs up.

Maddy would emphasize your message and respond with something like Okay but don’t die!

Kayla’s message would be a more whimsical reaction like Jesus take the wheel! (Wait do planes have wheels?) or Life is short, take rides from hot pilots when you can with the peace sign emoji.

And Nat would send advice from several documentaries and podcasts she’d seen or listened to, about what to do if you were being abducted.

You laughed to yourself again at the entire situation.

“Alright, Jack.” You hopped down from your stool and picked up your bag. “I’m ready when you are.”

He stood, taking his hat from the bartop and placing it on his head. “No time like the present.” Running his hands over his clothes, he smoothed out his suit jacket. “Follow me, darlin’. And give me that.” He pointed his chin towards your bag. “I’m a gentleman, remember? Where would my manners be if I let a lady carry her own bags?”

You shook your head with a smile and handed over your carry-on, leaving you with only your purse. “I don’t know. You’re teaching me about gentlemen, remember?”

You knew when you saw his eyes darken that you’d made the right call.

“Oh, sugar. I remember. Few hours to Vegas. Plenty of time for me to teach you things.” With that he started walking and you were left to follow, slightly stunned at the implications in his tone and in his words.

This is definitely going to be a trip to remember, that’s for sure.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know by sending a message or filling out the form on my masterlist! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @dihra-vesa @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharine @novemberrain221 @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @Noisynightmarepoetry

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY RACHAEL!#pretend this was on time #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x female reader #jack daniels x female reader #pedrostories #jack whiskey daniels fic #kingsman the golden circle #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x female reader #pedro pascal character #agent whiskey fic #jack daniels fic #it's cowboy times

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pedrito-friskito · 9 months

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Hiya! New to tumblr here, and I just saw your list! Hmmm I’ll go with 🎲 ROLL FOR FIC 🎲: Jack Whiskey Daniels & Fluff. ❣️ Thanks! 💓

hi lovely!!! thanks for the request!

full disclosure: this is the first time I’ve written dear ol’ Jack! put a bit of my own twist on it (and obvious canon-divergence cuz that’s just how we roll) - and the prompt I rolled was “is that my t-shirt?”

enjoy! xo

a promise - jack “whiskey” daniels x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: a bit of heartbreak, we kick canon to the curb, fluff and fluff and sweetness and fluff

You never thought you’d see him again.

That was the long and short of it. You knew him before, before he became one of the top agents for some secret service he wasn’t allowed to talk about. When he was just Jack, eldest son of the farmer that owned the ranch down the lane from the one you’d moved to after your parents inherited it. He was a few years older than you, all broad shoulders and cow-licked hair hidden beneath a dark suede hat.

You still remember the first day you met, the way he’d grinned at you from behind silver-rimmed aviators and tipped the brim of his hat in your direction.

“Well, hey there, darlin’.”

It was never a dull moment, with Jack Daniels living right across the way. He flirted with you endlessly, and you brushed him off more often than not. He was nice, and you got on well, but you weren’t blind or deaf; you knew he had a different flavour of the week that he brought home well, every week. While the rest of his family lived in the ranch house, Jack had taken it upon himself to turn the upper level of one of the barns into his own bachelor pad.

You saw it yourself at the tail-end of a Fourth of July barbeque, a few too many beers and a little too much sun clouding your judgment. Jack was fresh off his latest fling with some sweet little blonde thing, and you were about a month out from your breakup with your college boyfriend — to him, graduation equaled ending things. It was hot, sweat pouring down your back and not even the shade was enough to escape the humidity.

Stumbling a bit, you wandered the Daniels ranch on your own, a Corona dangling from your fingers, flip-flops thwacking against the grass with every step. You’d been gone maybe ten minutes when the barn came into view, you spotted the AC unit in the second-storey window, and found your destination.

You didn’t expect to find Jack sitting inside, mumbling to himself, and as you climbed the steps to his space, gripping the rail like a lifeline, you heard your name mumbled amongst his words.

“Just talk to her, ya big coward. You talk to girls all the time!”

As soon as you reached the top step, the blissful cool air from the air conditioner lifted your hair, and you nearly tumbled back in relief. Your gasp caught Jack’s attention and he shot to his feet, rushing forward and grabbing you, pulling you up and onto the solid floor. “Easy there, darlin’.”

His hands on your waist felt like fire, and he flinched away from you, the tips of his ears turning bright pink and his cheeks following suit. You couldn’t help your chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at his boots.

“You’re cute when you blush, Jack,” you grinned, sipping your beer. “I mean, you’re cute all the time, but especially when you—”

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted, and you were sure you hadn’t heard him right.

“Huh?”

“Please?”

Wordlessly, you nodded, your lips parting slightly, head whirling as you tried to catch up with what was happening. Jack took your beer, setting it safely on a desk near the staircase. There were all kinds of books scattered across the desktop, words you could barely make out. He put one careful hand on your waist next, ducking his head slowly, treading carefully, like you were a horse that might spook easily. In a way, you were; you knew his reputation, your heart was still on the mend. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

You hooked your fingers in the collar of his t-shirt and pulled his face down to yours.

Kissing Jack Daniels was like watching a fireworks display. Bright lights exploded behind your fluttered eyelids, replaced your blood with sparks of excitement. His lips tasted like whiskey and cinnamon and his hands moved to your hips, long fingers nearly meeting at the small of your back. The tip of his tongue touched the seam of your lips and you sighed into his grip, melting as you let him taste you, revelled in the girlish thrill that zipped through your entire being.

Despite the alcohol buzzing in your brain, the sun warming your cheeks, your body begging for him to give you more, you pulled back.

“I don’t wanna be another notch in your bedpost, Jack,” you murmured, your voice suddenly small, the confidence you’d tried to pour into your kiss slipping away like a summer breeze.

“You won’t be,” he assured you, shaking his head, tipping his forehead against yours. “I’ve been…I’ve been thinkin’ about you, darlin’, a lot lately. Lot more than usual.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Was tryna pluck up the courage to come talk to ya before you found your way up here.”

Your grin matched his. “Must be fate, then.”

“Fate, kismet, call it what you want, sugar, but I know one thing for certain: I’d like to spend the rest of this night kissin’ you, then maybe you let me take you out on a real date tomorrow night?”

You linked your fingers together at the back of his neck, his wayward curls tickling your knuckles. “Promise me something, Jack.”

“Anythin’.”

“Don’t break my heart.”

He leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth. “As long as you don’t break mine.”

You woke up in his bed that next morning, the warmth of him curled around you. Despite the heat in the air, you basked in it, pushed yourself against him in all the right places until he was rousing beside you, hands starting to wander and lips finding yours again.

“Mornin’, sugar.”

The summer evolved from there. The majority of your time was spent at the Daniels’ ranch, following Jack around like a little lost puppy. He took you on long rides on horseback, exploring the hills and valleys that sprawled behind both your family ranches.

You watched him in the pastures, galloping along on his horse, Whiskey, lasso in hand, corralling the cattle back to their barns. He was a sight to behold, but watching him with that lasso was another thing entirely. His skill was something you’d never seen before. Jack tried to teach you, and by the end of the summer you were able to rope a cow from the back of your own horse, but you knew you’d never be as good as Jack.

Fall crept in, and there was no stopping the pair of you. You crept out of your own house and across to Jack’s barn nearly every night, the pair of you falling asleep in each other’s arms, waking the next morning to do it all over again. Rinse and repeat, there was no end in sight, and you silently berated yourself for every time you’d brushed off his flirting before the Fourth of July.

And then everything changed.

It was an unseasonably warm week. Mid-October and just as hot as it had been in July, and you’d planned a ride to the lake not far from the ranch. You’d packed a picnic, donned one of Jack’s plain white tees over your bikini, and headed over to the barn to start saddling the horses while Jack showered.

When he finally met you in the stables, you knew something was wrong. There was a pinch to his brow you’d never seen before, some unknowable spark behind his eyes that made your gut twist.

“Jack, baby, what is it?” You cupped his cheek in your hand, swiped your thumb across his skin.

“Nothin’, sugar,” he answered, shaking his head and pulling out of your grip, pushing his aviators up his nose.

Whatever it was, he hid it well as you rode to the lake, and it was another blissful day. The lake was quiet, secluded, and when Jack rolled over you on the blanket, planted his hands either side of your head and lowered his body to yours, your forgot any worry you had. You never made it home that night, instead following Jack up to the barn, your fingers twined together.

But when you woke the next morning, he was gone.

His dresser drawers hung open, their contents emptied. His favourite lasso was gone from the hook on the wall where he kept it, his hat beside it also missing. The side of the bed he’d occupied all night was cold, and a piece of paper with your name scrawled across the front sat on his pillow.

Inside, only two words: I’m sorry.

Tears in your eyes, your head spun. Anger spiked — more with yourself than with him — and silently, you told yourself that you had been right all along. You never should have let him in, let yourself get close to him. You’d only ever asked him for that single promise, and he’d broken it the first chance he got.

You collected your things from the barn, realizing you were still in his t-shirt, and walked back home in a blur. It took a few days for you to find the courage to go talk to his parents, if they knew where he had gone, if he was coming back.

“Oh, sweetheart, he didn’t tell you?”

That was the beginning of the secrecy. Even his own family didn’t know exactly where he’d gone, but that he’d been chosen specifically and that he’d be trained to become one of the best. It was what Jack had always wanted, they told you, and with every word, you felt like you knew him less and less.

You thought you were what he always wanted. He’d told you so.

Resigned, you pushed him from your mind as much as possible. It wasn’t easy, with the Daniels’ ranch always within view, a summer full of memories tugging at you every time you set foot outside your front door. You decided not to let it ruin you, and dove into working on the ranch, helping with the cattle and the horses and using what Jack had taught you.

Before you knew it, years had passed. You knew he came home for Christmas and his mother’s birthday each year, and you made it a point to make yourself scarce. Christmas was harder, especially when your families started celebrating together on Christmas Eve. The first year he was there, you’d nearly burst into tears when he cornered you in the kitchen and called your name softly, but instead, you pushed past him and spent the night in your room with a bottle of whiskey.

He didn’t come on Christmas Eve again, and now, it’s been nearly ten years. Ten.

Ten years, and yet when you gallop toward the road that cuts between the Daniels’ ranch and your own, broad shoulders come into view, and you know it’s him. Same hat on his head, mirrored aviators glinting in the sun, plain white t-shirt that strains in all the right places.

It’s been a decade, but as your horse gallops another few feet closer, you know instantly that something is wrong.

Your brow furrows as you get even closer to the fence separating you from him, tugging the reins until your horse halts, sliding from the saddle. Your chest is tight, your heart racing as you close the distance.

“Hi.”

“Hey there, sugar,” he drawls, and you inhale deeply, ignoring every girlish instinct you’ve buried so deep over the years. “Been a long time.”

“What are you doing here, Jack?” you ask, your voice blunt. You feel uneasy, unsure what’s going on, and you don’t have the time — or the emotional space — to beat around the bush with him.

He reaches up and pulls the aviators from his face. Those bottomless brown eyes are on full display, and in an instant you can feel yourself getting lost in them, but then something catches your attention, just beside his left eye. A scar of sorts, round and raised.

Following your gaze, he rubs at the mark. “I…I messed up, darlin’. Made some big mistakes, took a big hit, and they put me on leave, sent me home.”

“What d’you mean, a big hit? What happened to you?” The curiosity is obvious in your voice.

“I got shot,” he says, blunt as you’d been, and your heart skips in your chest. “M’alright, sugar, I swear. I’d lost some of memory when they woke up, but they found a way to bring ‘em back.”

Your brow lifts. “And how’s that?”

The corner of his mouth quirks, but it’s a ghost of the Jack Daniels smile you fell for that summer. It’s different, softer, sadder. You watch as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out something square. He hands it to you.

It’s a polaroid picture.

A picture of you.

You recognize it. The day at the lake. You’re sprawled back on the picnic blanket, your hair a fan around your head, Jack’s t-shirt covering your top, bikini bottoms peeking out beneath. You remember him standing over you, camera in hand. Is that my t-shirt? Smile, sugar, c’mon and gimme a good one.

You don’t know what to say. The words swirl around in your brain, some anger and some happiness, some relief and some fear. You just stare down at the photo, the younger version of yourself grinning back. “I…”

“You brought me back,” he says, and leans forward, resting his forearms on the wood of the fence. “More than once, I might add. But this time…this was different. I’m done, I think. For a long time, maybe forever. And I…”

“You thought you could waltz back into my life?” you snap, your fingers bending the edge of the photo. The anger has won out. “After what you did?”

“No,” he replies instantly, staring up at you from under the brim of his hat, “I don’t. I know what I did, how I hurt you. I know tellin’ you that what I did broke my own damn heart worse than anything I’ve ever experienced before doesn’t make up for it.”

There are tears brimming along your lash line, and you blink furiously, trying to force them back, but one betrays you, slipping down your cheek.

“I’m not askin’ for you to give me your forgiveness, sugar, but I am askin’ if you’d let me try and earn it.” He shakes his head slowly, and you can see the sheen in his eyes, made worse when he sniffs and rubs at his nose. “I know I don’t deserve it, but maybe if—”

You reach out suddenly, two fingers pressed to his lips, cutting him off. You know you should be angry, you know you should be a lot of things, but now… “Promise me something, Jack.”

“Anything.”

Another tear slips down your cheek as he wraps his fingers around your wrist lightly, squeezes his fingers at your pulse.

“Don’t break my heart again.”

You see his sharp inhale, the sudden lift to his chest. “Never, sugar. Never again.”

#my fics #a promise #jack whiskey daniels #sleepover sundae #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack daniels #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack whiskey daniels fluff #jack whiskey daniels fic

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misspearly1 · 2 years

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Day Ten: Creampie - Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

Kinktober22 List

WC: 2.5K Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Jealousy from reader & Jack finding it hot. Soft Dom!Jack. Smut. Unprotected PIV. Creampie. Fluff. AN: Ok, for the longest time I was worried that writing for Jack would make me want more, and it has. I was correct to think that haha. I really enjoyed writing for think sexy southern man (it's the accents, it has to be lmao) and I can see myself writing more for him in future. Hope ya'll enjoy, my loves <3

Working as the assistant of a very important figure in the New York Statesman building isn’t all as glitz and glam as it sounds.

You were chosen - amongst so many other, more suitable, candidates - to be Jack Daniels assistant. Apparently something about you in particular was so special that he just had to have you be his personal run-around; answering his calls, taking messages or patching them through, collecting his mail, organising his weekly schedule, grabbing his lunch or his coffee every hour of the damn day.

Whatever it be that makes you excel in your job role more than others, all you really saw yourself as was Agent Whiskey's errand girl. That was until one day four months ago when the man showed what you really mean to him - which was more than you assumed at first. Jack saw you the very first day you arrived for your interview. You stood out from the crowd like a sore thumb, sitting amongst men and women who looked like they were fresh out of the modelling industry, while you looked a little nerdy.

You wouldn’t say that you look nerdy, but just comparing your style to theirs, you were seriously lacking the sexy look, and during your interview - which wasn’t even hosted by Jack - they took one look over your resume and gave you the job on the spot. No questions asked, just stated the monthly salary, and it’s a lot, gave you a time and date to start then sent you on your merry little way.

At the time, it felt like you were making a deal with the devil, as if there was a catch somewhere hidden in the contract, however after showing up to your first day of work and running around all day after Agent Whiskey, doing each and every normal errand that he could ask from an assistant, you quickly started to think you had struck gold instead.

Then, as more and more time passed working alongside Whiskey and not under him, you grew a bond, a connection to him that felt odd at first but became something beautiful. He’s always been a gentleman, right from the beginning, which you appreciate a whole hell of a lot considering the horror stories you’ve heard from friends about their bosses being disgusting sleazeballs.

So you therefore suppose that’s where your attraction to Jack began to blossom, just having the bare minimum of respect that you deserve. But it wasn’t just the bare minimum either, it was more. Jack included you wherever he could, asked for your help and opinions, though he kept you out of the physical side of his line of work, you spent a lot of time in his office, helping him crack cases - which wasn’t really a part of your job, but you enjoyed nonetheless.

Jack gave you days off whenever something came up, drove you home or picked you up whenever you had car trouble, offered you to join him during lunch, or asked to join you, continuously praised your work efforts and still does, brought you along to work meetings, big social events or fancy dinners with the cities officials. You didn’t just get a job in the New York's Statesman tower, you joined the Statesman - joined the family.

And for one whole week, when a woman arrived at the office, you felt like you were just Jack's run-around because of jealousy. You instantly became aware of your attraction for your boss during that week because you were jealous of the woman who was stealing his attention from you. Her presence made your work boring and what it should be in the first place, because Jack was too busy with her, instead of you.

Unfortunately, the jealousy bubbled up the surface and your thoughts spiralled, tricking yourself into believing you were just Jack's little errand girl all along, that he was just sweet talking you enough to not see that you were his slave that does everything he asks - but that wasn’t true, none of it was. That woman that was ‘stealing’ all of his attention was named Ginger Ale.

She flew in from another branch in a different state, bringing with her, a new shipment of upgraded tech and the reason she stayed for the whole week is because she has family here. And besides, Jack and Ginger Ale have worked with each other many times in the past, however he hadn’t worked with her since you joined, therefore you didn’t know about her.

But it’s besides the point, your jealousy blinded you from seeing reality, blinded you from seeing the way Jack tried to include you on numerous occasions but you ignored them all through your stubbornness. You fucked up royally and even contemplated looking for a new job, over thinking the whole situation once again as you though Jack would hate you for your sudden change of attitude.

However, you once again, could never have been more wrong. After thinking calmly and not with your insecurities, you took the right approach and talked to Jack, apologizing for your actions, explaining where they come from and why, then told him that however he likes to deal with it, you would understand.

Jack dealt with it by bending you over his desk and fucking some sense into you all night long until sunrise. Then, like the gentleman he always was, he bought you a clean set of clothes and breakfast, then shared a long three hour chat detailing how he has always had a crush on you, that he understood why you reacted the way you did and he is absolutely not mad about it either. In fact, he even went as far as sharing that it was hot and turned him on like crazy.

Though you blushed red like a tomato for a good chunk of that morning, feeling embarrassed for getting jealous in the first place, the man went above and beyond to banish you shame forever. He asked you there and then if you’d like to skip past all of the fuss around dating and just be his lady. And at that point, after spending half a year working alongside him, you pretty much already were his lady, therefore your answer was an immediate yes.

This conversation with Jack took place four months ago now, and you’ve never felt more emotionally secure. Still working alongside him, more like his partner rather than his assistant, you’re a team now. And at the end every working day, he calls you into his office for your ‘reward’ for all of your hard work before heading home together.

Even right now, as the clock nears the end of your shift, you can feel his gaze on you from his office. Though you don’t look up at him, you can just see in the corner of your eyes how he’s waiting to call you into his office. Your legs squeeze together at the thought, lips roll together to hide your blushing smile and your sex pulses with anticipation for your reward.

“Babygirl.” Jack calls and your whole body shivers. His voice was dark and sickly sweet, making you yearn to hear him whisper all the loving phrases you adore directly into your ear. Turning your head to meet his wanton gaze, you smile upon seeing him leaning against his desk, legs spread slightly with one hand held over his thigh. “Yes?” You answer, pretending like you don’t already know what he wants.

The man simply smirks in return. Although there was a softness to his expression, make no mistake, the feral look in his eyes speaks to you. Lifting his hand and beckoning you with a finger, you nod to him and pile up your paperwork on the desk before wheeling your chair backwards.

Fixing your skirt as you walk towards him, you prepared ahead of time today and didn’t bother wearing any panties. Just to receive your reward easier. Now standing before him and between his legs, Jack reaches out and pulls you in by your hips, asking. “Busy day today, huh sugar?”

“Yes. It was indeed.” You sigh breathily. Resting both your hands to his chest, you toy with his suspenders, skimming your fingers up and down the fine black leather. Smirking upon remembering how he used them last week to spank your ass, it caught Jack's attention and he asked what you’re thinking about. “Oh, just about how much you love me.” You shrug, happily.

Upon feeling his warmth sighing breath bellow across your face, you lift your head and gaze into his deep brown eyes. The corner of his bearded lip turns upwards with a smile, looking down at you through half lidded eyes, Jack nods once. “I love you a lot.” He whispers, then shoots you a wink as you continue to play with the suspenders. He, too, was thinking about how he used them last week right here in this very office. “Ready for your reward, sugar?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you try to hold onto some dignity, but your giddy smile betrays you. Jack chuckles softly, then lifts his hand to hold your chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently pulling you in to close the gap. Full, natural pouty lips sealing over your with a light peck at first, you tilt your head to the side and part your lips, inviting him to deepen it, which he does.

“Oh, babygirl.” He sighs into your mouth before slipping his tongue inside, swirling it around with your own. You whine from the sensation and your eyes close instantly, relishing the way he kisses you so passionately. Dragging your hands up his cotton shirt, your fingers slip underneath his jacket as you caress his shoulders with a massaging squeeze, the action drawing out a groan from him. Music to your ears.

Dropping his hands to your ass, Jack begins bunching up the fabric of your skirt and grunts with surprise when he feels your bare sex against the pad of his fingers. You feel him smiling against your lips, delighted that you wore no panties today. After grabbing a satisfying amount of handfuls of your ass, he breaks for the kiss and looks down to his belt buckle with one raised brow.

“Hm, allow me.” Humming, you take his silent request and lower your hands to untie his belt as he continues to grope your ass, his fingers slipping between your legs and touching your most sensitive area. It was distracting, causing your actions to be halted for a moment as he rubbed your clit. You sigh frustratedly, bucking against his hand while trying to open his pants.

“So needy.” Jack teases in a whisper, smiling from the pleasurable distractions he was inflicting. After unlocking the flask shaped buckle, the Statesmen’s logo imprinted on the metal, you then move onto the zip of his jeans and pull it down, watching as his bulge pushes through the opening. “I am indeed.” You retort playfully, then palm his cock over the fabric of his boxers, your chest swelling with pride upon hearing his choked grunt.

A few moments later, it became apparent that Jack was now the one feeling so needy as he swiftly turned you around, the action making you gasp out a giggle, excited for what’s to come. He pulls you into his lap, then lines himself up at your entrance and pushes only the tip inside. “Sit on it, sugar.” He asks, not so patiently.

Leaning your head back to his shoulder, you lift your arm and wrap your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss before sinking down on his cock ever so slowly. The stretch was intense, always, but you adjust very quickly and rotate your hips. “Jack…” You gasp into his mouth from the fullness of him buried deep inside of you. “I know, darlin’.” Is all he says in return, almost with a smug tone, as if he knew how good it feels for you.

Moving his lips in sync with yours, Jack holds onto your hips like they were his own personal love handles, his fingers carefully digging into the flesh to move you back and forth off his cock. “Holy fuck.” You whine, breathing heavy ragged breaths into his mouth from his movements.

Already clenching around him, your tightness draws out another choked grunt from his throat. Jack can be very vocal when he wants to be, but sometimes he holds back and just simply focuses on all of the pretty noises you make for him. “I w-want…” You stutter, tilting your face away from him to look down at your body.

“Use your words, baby. Go on, tell me.” Jack whispers. Burying his chin into your neck, he, too, looks down at your body and feels you fighting against his grip on your sides. You take over. Squeezing your thighs together, you take control from him and start thrusting back and forth. “Oh, there you go, darlin’.” Jack praises directly into your ear, gritting his teeth from your quick, hurried movements. “There you fucking go, Y/N. Don’t stop.” He growls.

Crying that you're close to him, Jack drags his hand down your stomach and slips his finger between your folds, locating your clit quickly. Your hand lands atop of his, holding him tightly as you toss your head back, mewling from the added stimulation. When he feels your legs shaking against his, he holds his free arm across your breasts, pinning you close to him as he bucks forward. “Jack!” You sob with the stars erupting behind your eyes.

“Let it all out, sugar.” He groans into your neck, grinding into you with his own climax reaching its peak. Jack keeps his cock buried to the hilt, painting your pulsing velvety walls with ropes of his creamy white seed. “Fuck! That’s it.” Grunting with each last few rolls of his hips, he spills every last drop and places his lips to your ear, whispering shakily. “That’s it, Y/N. Take it all, baby.”

Whimpering and writhing against him, he was still rubbing nameless shapes on your clit, overstimulating you and prolonging your high. It felt too good and quickly became too much. “H-honey.” You manage to blurt, shaking your head as you pull his hand away from your cunt. Resting now, you sit in his lap and steady your breathing.

Jack wraps his arms around your front, kissing your neck softly to bring you back down from your high. “Did so well, sugar.” He praises, smiling against the skin between your neck and jawline "gotta keep it inside though, otherwise I'll have to full you up again."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, hon." You laugh softly, then let out the weakest whimper as you lift your hips, feeling his warmth escaping you. "Oops."

Tilting your face again to meet his gaze, you shudder under his smirking smile, giggle lightly at the sight of his dark, dreamy eyes, filled with fire and lust. "Oh, I see. You want more." He says while ever so carefully grinding his hips, making an absolute mess of your cunt as his cum oozes out of your entrances. "I'll give you more, sugar but first, what do you say, hm?" He groans a question.

“Thank you -" You release a heavy sigh, a sound mixed with amusement and exhaustion that satisfies Jack. "- thank you for my reward, baby."

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years

Text

Kinktober Day 6

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Sex work; lingerie; reverse cowgirl; piv; unprotected sex; accidental fluff and angst; this one also wound up being way longer than I expected it to be

Notes: @blueeyesatnight —It's not That Yeehaw Motherfucker, but it's a start, right? (I'm still working on that one too I SWEAR)

“Put ‘em on.”

It was a muffled order, murmured against your temple as you fished into the bag, past the layer of tissue paper. You couldn’t deny your giddy feeling, even if you fought to maintain a steady, calm expression. It was rare that your clients brought you gifts—but Jack wasn’t like the others.

You bit back a scoff at your own foolish thought. The others would call you naïve for it, and you wouldn’t blame them. Well, you hadn’t been in this business nearly as long as some of them had.

“What is it?” You batted back before you could see it properly, “An ‘I Heart Cowboys’ t-shirt?”

You already knew that it isn’t—at least, you suspected. The bag it was handed to you in was a nice one, with thick, rectangularly structured plastic and two silky fabric handles.

“You want one’a those? Should’a told me,” Jack murmured. You grinned as he curled his arms around your middle, cuddling against your back. “I’ll bring it next time.”

“You’re just trying to get outta paying me real money. I can’t pay rent with t-shirts, Jack.”

“Now darlin’, you know I would never.”

You grunted softly before you finally drew the gift out of its bag. Your heart ticked up in your chest at the sight. You’d figured it was something on the salacious side when your fingers had closed around it. The rough brush of lace against your fingertips had been indication enough. But when the black lace came into view, it still managed to take your breath away. You held it up to the light, eyeing the sheer fabric around the center of the bra.

“Garter and panties are in there, too,” Jack murmured, “So?”

You felt him rest his chin on your shoulder. You gave him a sidelong glance, arching a brow.

“You give these to your other friends?”

“What other friends?” Jack cooed, beginning to sway you back and forth a bit. “I know how you don’t like to share.”

“Oh, please."

“Put ‘em on.”

“What, now?” You teased, wriggling against Jack. “Right here?”

“Nn-nn, I want a little reveal. I’ll wait here.” Jack lowered a hand from your middle, giving your ass a sweet little swat. “Go on.”

You smiled, unable to help it, and stepped around Jack. You took your damn time walking back toward your bathroom. You were more than comfortable leaving him alone in your room. Hell, it had hardly been the first time. The first time, you had been afraid to leave him alone for more than a few minutes. Well, you’d been new to the business then. But the agency was discreet, and vetted their clients well.

Jack was too much of a smooth talker; his manners had seemed too good to be true. But he’d treated you well, paid on time, and tipped handsomely. He made small talk when he arrived, but it hadn’t been that wary, nervous chatter that a couple of other clients had leveled at you. Hell, you’d been the nervous one.

You hadn’t expected Jack to come back after that, but he’d hung around like a bad smell.

Now, you shrugged out of your robe, tossing it over the towel rod. You shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the ensemble you’d put on. Frankly, it hadn’t been anything special. You’d been so dolled up that first night with Jack that you’d hardly felt like yourself. Jack had seen that; he’d coaxed out of your heels, drawing your feet up into his lap and working the thin straps open with quick fingers.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” He’d murmured, sweeping his fingers across your ankle. “More comfortable?”

So when you'd heard that he'd wanted to see you again, that was what you’d gone for. Comfortable. Today, you’d opened the door to him in your robe, a bralette, and a pair of sleep shorts. He hadn’t seemed to mind. Hell, he’d greeted you as warmly as ever, along with a murmur of, “Brought you a little something.”

Now, as you pulled the lingerie out of the bag, you couldn’t help but smile, and to wonder what had made him think of you when he saw them. They are beautiful—delicate, but clearly expensive. You didn’t hurry to change, either. Maybe it was mean, but you wanted to make him wait a little, the way that you’d felt he’d made you wait for him. Maybe it wasn’t fair to feel that way. He was just a client, someone who brushed in and out of your apartment. Hell, you didn’t have any contact with him outside of the agency. He booked you through them, contacted you through them.

“I’m turnin’ into a pumpkin’ out here!”

You grinned at the yell, the slight annoyance in his tone. Mission accomplished.

“Calm down, cowboy.”

You reached up, taking your robe and pulling it on, fastening the tie around your middle before you finally turned to leave. You leaned in the doorway, arms folded across your chest as you watched Jack. He was still by your bookshelf, peering at the titles. When he heard the slight creak of the floorboards, he turned to face you, eyes bright with expectation. His gaze dimmed just a little as his eyes swept from your head to your toes and up again.

“They didn’t fit?” He asked softly, a thread of disappointment in his tone.

"I don’t know,” You shrugged a little, lowering your hand to undo the tie. “You tell me.”

You let the robe fall open, pushing the fabric back and resting your hand on your hip. Jack’s tongue swept over his lip as he crossed the room in even steps. His eyes covetously wandered your body before he let out a long, low whistle.

“Have I got good taste,” He murmured, sliding his hands over your sides and drawing you to straighten up. You scoffed.

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy.”

“That was very clever, putting this back on.”

“You said you wanted a reveal, didn’t you?”

Jack chuckled, nodding a little, taking hold of your hand as he led you deeper into your bedroom.

“C’mere. Lemme get a better look at’chya.”

You smiled, following him obligingly. He sat down on the edge of your bed, thumbing over your side tenderly.

“Take this off,” He added, nodding toward your robe. You liked that about Jack. He told you exactly what he wanted the moment he wanted it. He never left you guessing. For some clients, that was half of the fun. For you, it could be a hell of a struggle. You reached up, gently pushing at the fabric of the robe where it rested on your shoulders before it slid down, letting it pool at your feet. You reached down, sliding your hands over his arms.

“Why are you still dressed, huh? You sounded so impatient, figured I’d open the door and you’d be all ready to go,” You teased.

“C’mon, that ain’t fair,” Jack murmured, warm eyes flicking up to your face. “You know I like to take my time with you.”

That was true enough. Usually your clients ordered your time for a couple of hours. Jack always ordered your time for the whole night—sometimes the next morning. You couldn’t help but smile. You reached down, cupping his cheeks gently. You’d been warned about this when you’d started. It wasn’t any agency rule, of course, it was left as a matter of preference. But the girls had all told you to stay away from it. With the clients before Jack, you had. With the other clients, you did, so long as they initiated it.

But they weren’t Jack.

You dipped your head, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Jack let out a soft hum, the feeling of it buzzing against your lips. His hands smoothed up over your thighs, giving them a gentle pat. You smiled, wiggling little and pressing into his warm, calloused hands. You giggled as he reached around, giving your ass a tender squeeze before using the grip to tug you into his lap. You grinned, straddling his lap and looping your arms around his shoulders. Jack pecked your lips once, twice, and then dipped his head, nuzzling at your jaw. You smiled, squirming in his lap as his mustache tickled your skin. You slid your hand up into his hair, gently ruffling the meticulously styled coif.

“Goddamn, but I missed you, sweetheart,” Jack murmured tenderly against the hinge of your jaw. Your stomach was a flurry of butterflies. Your grip tightened slightly in his hair, keeping him close.

“I missed you, too, Jack.”

It was a stupid thing to admit to. But maybe he didn’t buy it. Maybe he was certain that you said things like that all the time to your clients. Whether or not he cared—whether or not he took umbrage with your statement, Jack cupped your jaw and turned your head toward him, catching your lips in another passionate kiss.

You hadn’t kissed him the first couple of times you’d been together. You’d been much newer then, and had heeded every word of advice that the agency gave you. Jack had understood, though he’d pouted so cutely when you’d turned your head from his, mumbled, “I shouldn’t.”

Jack had murmured his understanding and instead pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder. He’d abided by your rule every time he’d seen you. You’d been the one to draw him into a kiss in a following tryst. You’d heard his interested hum, felt his lips pull with a smile. He’d given you a grin like the cat that had gotten the cream as the two of you had cuddled up and smooched in your afterglow.

Now, Jack twisted, gently depositing you on the bed. He hardly let himself get far from you, even as he resituated himself on top of you. You shifted, pushing yourself back onto the bed a little bit, your knees bracketing his hips as his fingers teased and smoothed over the lace and straps of the garter. Your fingers slid from his hair to undo the buttons on his shirt. As each was undone, it revealed a new sliver of his tanned, muscled chest. You tugged the shirt up from his jeans before shoving the fabric from his shoulders. Jack shrugged it off, tossing it onto the side of the bed before cuddling close again. You sighed, tipping your head back as Jack’s lips trailed over your throat, down to where your breasts peeked out from the top of the bra.

You bit your lip, looking down at him as he slid a hand up under your back, fingers expertly undoing the hooks. He pressed a tender kiss to your sternum before he gave the center a tug. You sat up just a little, shifting your arm to help him dispose of it. Your hands slid down, fingers scrabbling at Jack’s belt, your nails clacking against his wide belt buckle.

He chuckled, a sweet, warm sound as he reached down, steadying your hands.

“You got somewhere to be?”

Your face warmed at his teasing, and you turned your head a touch from him as your embarrassment turned your stomach. He let out a soft tutting before he leaned up, nuzzling your cheek. With others, you played at shyness. It was always damnably real with Jack. He made you feel like he wasn’t simply there because he paid to be, and that you weren’t simply there because you were paid to.

“Plannin’ on seein’ someone else tonight?” He added, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“You know I’m not.”

“Alright if you were.”

“Jack,” You squirmed against him petulantly, heels kicking against the bed.

“I wouldn’t hold it against ya.”

“I’m not going to pass up my time with you. It’s so rare these days.”

Maybe it was unfair of you to say, especially considering your function in his life. But you weren’t interested in him merely as a cash grab. That’s what made the time you spent with him so dangerous. Jack’s hands slid from your sides to cup your cheeks, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You really did miss me?”

You knew he wasn’t teasing you, but it still made your body go hot with embarrassment. You couldn’t draw back; Jack was all over you. He had the strength advantage; his physique had never gone unnoticed. He’d never used it against you, of course, but it had been obvious in the way he’d held, gripped, turned and guided you in your encounters. Now, he squeezed your jaw to keep your focus.

“Don’t make fun,” You mumbled.

“I wouldn't. You have my word.”

It was too close—too sincere. You carefully twisted your face out of his grip before you reached down, working pointedly at his belt buckle again.

“Now hang on,” He chuckled, “I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here.”

He reared back, hooking his fingers in one of your garter straps and giving it a snap. You hissed, shifting against the pain before you reached up, tweaking Jack’s nipple. He groaned, slapping your thigh in return. Through the shift, the tweaks and teases, smiles had found their ways back onto your faces, the seriousness of the previous moment forgotten.

“Which one of us is in charge here, then?” You pushed, batting your eyelashes. Jack grinned, hooking both hands in the band of the garter belt.

“I’m not sure you want remindin’ of that, missy.”

"Guess you'll just have to put me in my place, cowboy."

You bit your lip at the sound of Jack’s groan. You leaned forward, resting your hands on his thighs as you beared down a touch more on his hard cock.

“Goddamn, angel,” He sighed, smoothing his hand over your ass. “If this ain’t the prettiest picture, I don’t know what is.”

Your grin widened as your ass settled against the swell of his thighs, his length buried fully inside you. It was only a moment before you started to roll your hips, acclimating to the feeling of him. You couldn’t see him, your back to his face as you rode him, but Jack’s heady grunts and moans were enough to tell you that you were pleasing him.

You gasped as you felt Jack sit up behind you. His cock shifted inside you as he cuddled up against your back, curling his arms around your middle. You shivered as he pressed his face into your neck.

“Go on,” He urged, mustache prickling pleasantly against your neck. He gave your thighs a gentle squeeze, and his hips a shove. You huffed, shifting just a touch to tuck legs knees into a kneeling position. Jack took hold of your hands, gripping them and tugging them behind your back. You bit your lip, letting your eyes slide shut as you began to bounce on his lap. Jack hissed in a quiet breath, hand sliding down to flex against your thighs.

“Like that?” You plied after a moment, voice shaking as you panted.

“Just like that,” Jack murmured against the shell of your ear. “Always take such good care'a me, angel.”

You tipped your head forward, cunt throbbing around his cock as you picked up your pace. Your hands flexed in Jack’s grip, fingers brushing against his chest. Jack chuckled behind you, tugging you more tightly against him. You gave your wrists a little wriggle, and Jack let out a quiet huff.

“What’s the plan there, sweetheart?”

“I just wanna touch you, Jack. Please?” You plied softly. Jack groaned softly against your shoulder.

“Taking advantage of me, huh?”

“Advantage?” You faltered.

“You know I can never say no to you.”

You grinned, a flutter flash of warmth washing over you as Jack loosened his grip on your wrists. You leaned more heavily against his chest, lowering one hand to rest on his thigh and raising the other to stroke over his cheek. You tipped your head back against his shoulder, luxuriating in the feeling of his chest moving against your back, his kisses and sighs against your neck, and his cock driving up into you.

“That’s it,” Jack urged as you began to bounce harder. He lowered his fingers to your pussy, swiping through the wetness gathered around your opening before slipping them up, slicking them across your clit. You hissed out a curse, pressing into his fingers and down against his cock. You whimpered as you felt the familiar sensation build in your belly, like a wire coiling into a spring. You picked your pace up, hinging forward and arching your back.

“Fuck, go on,” Jack urged, sliding his hand along your back before hooking your hand on his shoulder to anchor you as you chased your pleasure. You whined, breathing his name out as your orgasm washed over you in waves. Jack nudged you forward as your cunt throbbed around him. He gripped your hips more tightly than he had, and you sagged back, just holding yourself up as he used your body roughly. You reached back, holding yourself up on a shaky arm, and palmed his ass, giving it an encouraging squeeze. Jack’s hips snapped more harshly, his breath puffing hotly against your neck. You moaned softly as you felt him curl over you, grinding more deeply into you as he came.

Jack curled his arm around your middle, rolling the two of you to lay on your sides. You couldn’t have given less of a fuck that your head was at a slightly uncomfortable angle; your feet were pointed toward the pillows, your head by the end of the bed. But you heard a murmur of, “Lift your head up, darlin’.” You did, and a moment later, Jack tucked his rolled up shirt beneath your head. You smiled, cuddling back against him and resting your head on the shirt. You shut your eyes, nuzzling into the fabric and taking in a slow, steady whiff, catching on the scent of his woodsy cologne. You slid your hand over his arm, intertwining your fingers and giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“We oughta get cleaned up.”

His insistence was mumbled against your belly, though neither of you make a move to rectify that situation. You just reached down, combing your fingers through his slightly damp hair.

“Probably,” You agreed with a wide yawn. Your hand fell from his head as Jack pushed himself up to lean over you, his eyes searching your face. You tipped your head to the side, searching his in return. He looked more tired than he had the last few times you’d seen him. In your hours in bed that evening, you’d spotted the odd bruise, a few new scratches and scars than there had been on him before. You raised your hands, sliding them gently over his shoulders.

You didn't know what he did, but whatever it was, it put him through the wringer.

“Bath?” You offered, “Shower?”

“Mmm…” Jack pursed his lips, directing his gaze upward as he considered.

You were certain he was half-asleep. His head was resting back against your shoulder, his eyes closed. The bubbles had all run out, leaving you room to admire him where he was cuddled back against your body. You eyed the steady rise and fall of his chest, the errant drift of his knee to and fro, bobbing above the water. You turned your head, nuzzling against his temple and letting your own eyes close.

“...You’re not lonely without me, are you?”

His question was practically whispered, and out of left field. Your heart ticked up in your chest. You swallowed thickly, keeping your eyes closed.

“I’m not sure I should answer that, Jack.”

“Why not? Afraid you’ll hurt my feelings?”

There was a smile in his voice, but you couldn’t bring yourself to match it.

“...Afraid I’ll say something stupid,” You admitted.

“I’ve never known you to do that.”

“First time for everything, right?”

Jack huffed a soft laugh out before he reached down, drawing your hand up to rest on his chest.

“...But you do miss me when I’m gone?”

You didn’t know why he needed this reassurance. Maybe he missed you, too, and wanted to know it was mutual. Maybe he wanted to remind you both that this was contained, that it started and stopped at your doorstep, and your bank account. Nonetheless, you curled both hands around Jack’s, dropping a tender kiss to his head.

“More than I should, cowboy.”

Tag list: @leaveinthelurk ; @missredherring ; @fangirlfreakingout ; @stevie25 ; @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @karie-me-home ; @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly ; @guyfieriii (tried to tag and it won’t let me D: ) ; @moonlightburned ; @amneris21 ; @shiftingsands14 ; @cloudohell ; @blueeyesatnight (Tagged up top) ; @inlovewithhisblueeyes ; @reaperofmen

#Jack Whiskey Daniels x Reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels x You #Jack Whiskey Daniels/Reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels/You #Jack Whiskey Daniels fic #Jack Whiskey Daniels imagine #Youvebeenlivingfictional Kinktober 2022 #Kinktober 2022

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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months

Text

Fic Recs - Other

Fic recs featuring media other than Star Wars and The Last of Us.

Key: 🏴 = dark, 💕 = fluff, ⛓ = rough/bdsm elements, 💀 = dead dove do not eat

Mind the warnings, and please read responsibly. you control your own media consumption.

All Fic Recs

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels - "Kingsman: The Golden Circle"

it tastes like acid by @psychedelic-ink (oneshot)

summary: he came by every wednesday to ask for your services, he's a broken man, you can tell. however, you didn't expect him to break you in return.

Dieter Bravo - "The Bubble"

Celestial Navigation by @write-and-buried (series, complete)

summary: dumped and drowning in a summer storm, you duck inside a coffee shop to hide from your broken heart. Covered in plants and hand drawn images over exposed brick, it seems like a slice of heaven. The owner brings you a blueberry muffin and a promise; you’ll fall in love with him before the new year.

Red Herring by @nothoughtsjustmeds (one-shot)

summary: red herring (n.): an unimportant fact, idea, event, etc. that takes people's attention away from something important.

Dave York - "The Equalizer 2"

⛓🏴The Violence of You by @whataperfectwasteoftime (oneshot)

summary: You’re so fucking predictable. You have a bad night, and you come crawling to him, the only person who can take all this pain inside you and do something with it.

Black Jaguar by @oogaboogasphincter (one-shot)

summary: dave returns home from a job and can’t wait to indulge in you.

⛓ the dress series by @janaispunk (ongoing)

summary: You’re having an affair with Dave York. When he takes you on a week-long vacation, you realize that you have deeper feelings for him than you should.

⛓ Penance by @max--phillips (one-shot)

summary: dom!dave and boot worship

Ezra - "Prospect"

⛓B is for Bathroom Control by @max--phillips (oneshot)

pro-dom Ezra and piss play

I Forget About Time and Space by @psychedelic-ink (oneshot)

summary: you cook for ezra's guests, and seeing the sight of you being so domestic awakens something in him.

⛓ Plaited and Braided by @bonezone44

summary: Ezra gets a hold of a supersonic whip (aka bullwhip) and tries it out on you. There’s aftercare and then there’s sex.

Francisco "Frankie" Morales - "Triple Frontier"

🏴⛓ A Little Mishap by @lincolndjarin (oneshot)

summary: you and frankie return to base camp after an unsuccessful mission, each of you blaming the other for the outcome.

Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Verse)

distracted by @cool-iguana

summary: reader is sick of Miguel playing video games and not giving her attention, so she does something about it.

Max Phillips - "Bloodsucking Bastards"

i wanna do bad things with you by @chronically-ghosted (series; ongoing)

summary: you ask him to bite you, but he has some reservations. you agree to work up to it and test his limits.

Javier Peña - "Narcos"

Paranoid Heart by @goodwithcheese (ongoing)

summary: Maybe reckless hearts come in pairs.

Moon Knight

⛓ Be Lost by @juneknight (series; ongoing)

Marc Spector

summary: after a series of failures to find a dominant, your long time best friend Marc offers to give topping you a shot.

Crossovers

Welcome to the Carnal-val by @covetyou

ft. Dieter Bravo & Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

summary: Ladies and gentlefolk, adults of all ages, come one, come all, to the Carnal-val. Witness the most spectacular sights, jaw-dropping feats of depravity, and awe-inspiring liberties taken with Pedro characters.

#fic rec #dave york fic #dieter bravo fic #jack whiskey daniels fic #other media fic recs #for the record #I don't go here #the only movie on this list I've seen is the bubble #these authors are just all so good that I'm willing to read anything they write #so go read everything they write

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prolix-yuy · 2 years

Note

Not me crying in the car reading the last chapter 🥹🥹

I hope they’re happy tears! Thank you for reading lovely!

#lovely reader!#agent jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels fic

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wardenparker · 4 months

Text

New Year's Surprise

Jack Daniels x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18.7k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, internalized fatphobia, self esteem issues, pining, meddlesome friends, unwanted attention from a male coworker, light spanking, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Jack likes being scratched up, reader is described as having fingernails long enough to scratch (no specific length given), the love is requited they're just idiots. Summary: Ginger has a plan to get you and Jack to admit you have feelings for each other. She did not anticipate just how well it would work... Notes: Happy almost New Year everyone! Enjoy a little more winter seasonal smut and fluff from us to you 🥂🍾✨

"You're sure it's not too much, Ging?" Turning in front of the full-length mirror in Ginger's apartment, you inspect the glittering black cocktail dress that your friend helped you pick out at the mall during all those after-Christmas sales she promised you that you would find something at. She was right, like she always is, but now that the dress is on you, you're wondering if you haven't made a mistake. If it's not too revealing, or too short, or too tight.

Whoever in HR came up with this insane Cowboys and Flappers theme for the company New Year's Eve party deserved to have their head examined. You're not the femme fatale agent that gets sent out to seduce men and collect their secrets. Few men out there in the world are ever really seduced by the chubby girl in any given scenario, but it did tend to make you invisible. Invisible women can slip in and out of buildings in literally any kind of uniform and get through security without ever being harassed, and that works to your advantage on almost every case. Unfortunately, it also means that for the five years you've been a Statesman agent, you've also been fairly invisible to the man you've developed feelings for.

It’s perfect.” No matter how many times Ginger Ale tells you that you are sexy just the way you are, that insecurity gets the best of you. “I’m telling you, you will have every eye in the place.”

“I doubt it.” You sigh in the mirror and smooth your hands over the sequined dress one more time. “But that’s okay. I don’t want every set of eyes…”

“I know what set of eyes you want on you.” Your taste in men is your own, and Ginger won’t fault you for it, but she wonders why Jack. “It might do the man good to know that he’s got competition.” You don’t believe her when she says that it’s more telling that Jack doesn’t hit on you, but it’s the truth.

“He doesn’t, though.” Shrugging, you turn away from the mirror and decide to just go on with the night. Wishing won’t make it real and Jack Daniels barely looks at you. Even though you’ve partnered on cases, spend time together in and out of the office, and are arguably friends in every true sense? You’ve always wanted more with him. The only person who knows is Ginger, though, and you prefer to keep it that way since Jack will never return your affection. “And that’s…it is what it is. Even if you’re the only person I dance with tonight, it’ll still be fun.”

“Wearing that dress?” Ginger snorts as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have the faith for both of us, how about that?” She knows that Jack won’t be able to resist you tonight, not when she’s lined up a few of the junior agents to dance with you already. It’s time that Jack settles down and finds some happiness, and what better time than the New Year?

******

While you easily could have had the party at Statesman considering the size of the grounds, Champ wouldn’t hear of it. He’s hosting the damn thing himself come hell or high water, in his favourite suit with his wife dressed to the 9’s in her flapper dress, and more caterers than you’ve ever seen in your life all making his early twentieth century coal baron’s mansion look as resplendent as the day it was built. The place is palatial, with a ballroom so big that the band he’s hired looks tiny in one corner despite being six-men strong. It’s music and liquor and appetizers passing by on trays when you and Ginger walk through the door, and you gasp at how nice it all looks.

“I know he does it every year,” you sigh to your best friend. “But the theme is always different and I swear somehow the house always looks better on new year’s.”

“Champ does know how to throw one hell of a party.” She agrees, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter as she walks by. Her own sleek flapper dress is a vivid purple, making her beautiful skin glow and for tonight, she’s wearing contacts. Her short hair is perfectly styled, a cap like illusion, highlighted with the crystal headband she’s picked. “To a New Year we will never forget.” She hands you one glass and adds, “or regret.”

“You’re certainly optimistic.” You flash her and grin and tap the rim of your glass against hers. “Finally going to talk to Alicia or is this just positive vibes?” It’s been two years since Ginger started crushing on the woman who supervises Statesman campus tours and visitor experience, but she hasn’t made a move yet. Being frozen in place with someone you care about is something the two of you have in common.

“Positive vibes.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and trying to change the subject. “Look! There’s Tequila!” She waves the younger agent over to where you are standing. “You made it! Didn’t think you were ever gonna get back from Brazil, or if you wanted to.” She adds with a grin.

“Those are two very different questions.” Tequila agrees with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Did he have to come back? Sure. But did he want to leave the comfort and luxury of that beautiful woman’s bed? Not at all. “But I would not have missed dancing with you ladies for the world,” he adds with a wink. He’s very much in on Ginger’s plan, after all, and is looking forward to the fireworks it will bring.

You fluster slightly at his words, but Ginger knows that you don’t have your cap set on Tequila. You just don’t handle compliments well. “You’ll have to get in line.” Ginger warns him with a smirk. “As good as Rye looks tonight, every man in here is going to want a dance. After I dance with her first.”

“Well I reckon I’ll have to be second, then.” Tequila puts in a playful pout. “But only because I would never deny Miss Ginger Ale gettin to be first.” He smiles again and tips his hat, having opted to wear his best Stetson with an elegant Kingsman suit. “You don’t have to,” you insist, knowing Tequila always has more choices of dance and bedroom partners than he could ever feasibly make his way through. “I’m sure you have other people you want to dance with tonight.”

“No one important.” Tequila smirks as he drags his eyes up and down your outfit and whistles slowly. “And no one nearly as pretty.” He promises.

“Liar.” Though you roll your eyes at him, you don’t protest anymore than that. He’s your friend, after all. And if he wants to waste his time dancing with you, you’ll just enjoy it. Tequila’s a fantastic dancer, after all.

“Never lie to you, honey.” Tequila croons, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. “Lie about what?” The voice comes from your left and all eyes swing that way.

“Jack!” Normally you know he’s coming. The smell of earthy, expensive cologne and the tap-click-shuffle of his boots on polished floors. The soft humming he gets up to when he’s pleased with himself, not quite melodic but endearing because it means he’s happy. But you sensed none of that just now, too caught up in the band playing and the fragrant flowers and the tickle of bubbly in your nose and throat. “Nothing. We were just talking about dancing…” He looks like a dream, and it makes you sick to your stomach and elated all at once. Another night of watching him fawn over every woman but you is what you’ve resigned yourself to putting up with, but it’s just rude of him to look so damn handsome in that black velvet double breasted suit and sleek black Stetson while he does it.

“Dancing, hum?” His eyes narrow slightly at the grip Tequila has on your hand and he wants to reach out and slap it away, but he just shoots everyone an easy grin. “Ready to cut a rug tonight, eh?”

"I guess so." The shyness that threatens to shoot straight through you is knocked off kilter by Ginger, who hoots in response. "She's got her dance card all filled up already, Whiskey. Should've gotten here earlier," she tells him with a smirk.

His mustache ticks, it’s the only change to his facial expression. “I’m sure Rye can squeeze me in.” His dark amber eyes slide over to you and swipe up and down your body. “Can’t you, sugar?”

"Of course." You'd throw over the whole goddamn list for him. Besides, you have no idea what Ginger could possibly mean by saying your 'card' is full. One dance with her and one with Tequila isn't a full anything. "Of course I can."

“Good. Then how about I refresh you ladies’ drinks?” Jack asks, slapping Tequila on the back a little rougher than necessary. “Come help me with that.”

"Sure." Tequila grunts, throwing you a confused expression like he can't figure out why the hell Jack needs help getting champagne when waiters with trays are everywhere, but he shoots Ginger a secret smirk before following Jack into the next room where the open bar is set up.

“Tonight will be perfect.” Ginger predicts with a smug grin as she watches the two men walk towards the open bar. .

“What the hell are you doin’, flirtin’ with Rye?” Jack’s easy grin falls away and his brows knit together as soon as his back is turned to you. “You know that girl ain’t your type.”

"I can't be nice to my friend?" Tequila asks, pretending to be positively aghast that Jack would suggest he's up to anything else. One hand ever goes to his chest with a dramatic gasp.

Jack’s eyes cut towards the other agent, a frown on his face. “It’s one goddamn thing to be nice, it’s another to flirt.”

"When did I flirt?" The younger agent counters, knowing full well that's what he was doing but not about to admit it because he wants to make Jack stew.

“You were flirtin’ the second you can outta your momma, but you gotta learn there’s certain girls you don’t do that shit with.” Jack growls, stopping in front of the bar and holding up two fingers. “Double 62 Triple Barreled.” He orders, wanting one of the rare whiskeys that Champ had broken out tonight. “And two champagnes.”

"Now, why is that, Jack?" Tequila hums, looking down at his friend. Jack isn't too much shorter than him, but just enough to annoy the older agent on occasion. "Why is Rye one of those girls?"

“Because…” that’s where his argument ends, because there’s not really a reason beyond his own feelings. “It’s…unprofessional.” He decides. “She’s an agent for Christ’s sake.”

Tequila snorts at this string of logic, accepting his drink from the pretty bartender with a wink and sliding a large bill into the tip glass on the bar top before looking back at Jack. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it, Daniels. You fucking know it."

He does know it, but he snatches his own drink up and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He hates that his stomach twists and he wonders if you had been flirting back. Looking over his shoulder at where you are standing, he clenches his jaw at the tassels that are swaying every time you move. “Don’t get her damn hopes up.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We both know you ain’t gonna fuck her.”

"Nor does she want me to." This is gonna be a hell of a lot easier than he and Ginger thought, if Jack is always so fuckin wound up over you and he only just arrived for the night. "I ain't the one she has her eye on and everybody with eyes knows it."

Jack ignores that, huffing to himself as he tries to hid the fucking jealousy that curls in his gut at whoever you do have your eye on. Lucky son of a bitch. “No fuckin’ talkin’ to you, hardheaded S.O.B.” The champagne glasses are in front of him and he downs the rest of the drink to slap the crystal glass down and snatch up the flutes. Turning around without another word and stalking across the room towards you and Ginger.

It's only one room he has to cross, but by the time he gets there, Agent Brandy has sidled up beside you and Ginger and has his fingers ever so subtly on your elbow while bends his head and puts all his focus directly on you.

Halfway across the room, Jack jerks to a halt and growls, shaking his head as he resumes the walk and forces a moderately friendly smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d be back from Korea, Don.” He interrupts as he arrives back at your group.

"Two days ago." Brandy flashes a smile in Jack's general direction but keeps his focus on you. "Glad I made it back in time, too. Champ throws a hell of a party."

His eye twitches but Jack nods. “Yeah he does. Shoulda brought that little gal you were seein’. Brandy. Brenda right? Or was it Bambi?” He shrugs. “Maybe all of them at once, knowin’ you.”

"Now don't be unkind, Jack." Brandy's eyes cut over to the older agent and Brandy offers what could be considered a modestly dramatic pout. "Or Rye might think the worst of me and throw me over for that dance I just got promised."

Jack seethes beneath the smile on his face. “Would hate for that to happen.” He lies, handing Ginger one of the glasses and then offers the other to you.

The glass is offered with a smile and you thank Jack, savoring even the tiniest moment of contact between brushing fingers as he hands it over. It's probably bordering on pathetic, how long you've carried this torch for Jack, and it seems like Ginger is really trying to encourage you tonight to come out of your shell tonight but you just don't know. As nice as everyone is being, it doesn't feel right. The only thing that feels right is when you're around Jack. It's just a damn shame that he doesn't feel the same.

It’s almost painful how the simple, innocent touch affects him. Now visceral his reaction is. Only the training that Statesman has given him keeps him from showing anything. “Well,” he hates to tear himself away, but he can’t be around you for too long. “I better go talk to Champ about some cases he wants worked tomorrow.” He offers.

"It's a party," you remind him, smile flickering as he steps back. Obviously the small touch that you'll be savoring for the rest of the night has had the opposite effect on him. But there's no need to show that. Not when it's fully expected that he doesn't want to be around you when there are plenty of other people to talk to and women to dance with. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

“Never do,” he nods at everyone and turns around and skedaddles over to Champ like his pants are on fire.

"Come on," Ginger loops her arm through yours and lends Brandy a smirk that you don't notice — you're too busy trying not to look after Jack. "Let's go dance, honey. The night is young and we are looking far too good not to show off."

Champ eyes Jack as he stops by his side. “Figured you’d have a gal in your arms by now.” He huffs as he reaches out to shake Jack’s hand. “Losing your touch?” Jack snorts. “When have I ever lost my touch?” He asks, pointedly refusing to look back over towards you. “Just surveying my prospects.”

"And how is Agent Rye this evening?" Champ doesn't even have to look to know that that's where Jack has just come from. He blew into the room so quickly that it's the only explanation for the fire in his heels.

“Don’t you start with me.” Jack groans, shaking Champ’s hand and huffing. “Far as I know, she’s dandy.”

"Why should I not start?" Champ knows damn well why not, but he enjoys riling up his friend. "Somebody beat me to the punch?"

“Every-goddamn-body here tonight is actin’ like they’ve never seen the woman in a dress.” He snorts, complaining about it even though he has already memorized the way the damned sequined dress clings to your curves and enhances them in ways that should be criminal. “It’s damned ridiculous and borderline workplace harassment.”

Smirking, Champ pours two glasses of his preferred Statesman 1972 Select, savoring the smoked cherry notes from that particular year. He hands one cut crystal glass over to Jack with his tongue set firmly in his cheek. "You know you'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you just asked the lady to dance your damn self."

The glare Jack cuts Champ is withering and he turns his head as he takes a sip, refusing to rebuff the remark. It seems like everyone is taking the piss with him tonight as Eggsy would say. (edited)

"She's allowed to have fun, ya know." Champ goes on, humming the thought as though the glare Jack just shot him wouldn't have struck a lesser man dead in his tracks. "Damn shame she hasn't set her cap on anyone. Big family dreams, that gal has. Always has. It'll be a damn shame when she finally decides to hang up her pistols and have a family, but I won't let her get farther than the training ring. Too good of an agent to just let her retire."

“Is there a point to your ramblings?” Jack grumbles. “Or are you just spouting shit tonight?”

"Do what I want in my own house." The older man chuckles heartily and claps Jack on one shoulder. "Got a couple of jobs to start the new year with. Come see me tomorrow and we'll figure out which one's yours."

He’s being dismissed and since Champ is also giving him hell, Jack quickly nods and walks off. Trying to walk around the ostentatious ballroom without looking at you. “Hello handsome.” A perfectly manicured hand drapes itself over his shoulder and the scent of gardenias and sandalwood fills his nostrils. “Tiffany.”

Like a bloodhound on a trail, you spot it from across the ballroom without even trying to. Twirling around with Ginger, your eyes catch sight of the gorgeous, skinny, leggy blonde who has let herself drape over Jack's side and you sigh. Deflate is probably the right word, but you remind yourself it was never going to happen anyway and just hold on to Ginger as the song comes to an end.

“What’s a tall, dark, handsome drink of water like you doin’ all by your lonesome?” She purrs, making him hide the wince he had at the put on accent of hers. She’s as southern as tofu and yet she tries to make it sound like she’s grown up around here. Still, she’s a distraction and the best part about it is that there’s no emotional strings. “Looks like I should be buyin’ you a drink, darlin’.”

"I wish you would," she puts on a too-high giggle and bats eyelashes heavy with mascara and augmented with false hairs. Laying it on thick, she pushes in even closer and lets her body fit against his with nothing left to the imagination.

Jack doesn’t feel anything but he paints a cocky smirk on his face as he turns to her. “Then let me go get something for you, what do you want, darlin’?”

“Champagne, of course,” she simpers, never once considering the fact that she’s at a party for a whiskey distillery. Hell, she hadn’t even dressed for the theme.

Tiffany hangs out at the bar Statesman regularly hangs out at. A groupie because she knows everyone there makes good money. He’d bet his bottom dollar she conned Scotch into bringing her.

“Some party.” Is her attempt at conversation, putting more effort into showing off her cleavage than completing sentences. “You distillery boys sure know how to treat your gals.”

“Of course we do.” Jack’s smile is wicked, but it’s a part of the persona he adopts when he is working a target, it’s not real. “Any gal of mine deserves to be treated right.”

“Is that an invitation?” She knows who Jack is. Knows the civilian job title he’s been at Statesman Distillery. Even if she knew what it was all a front for, she likely wouldn’t care. She might just try harder if she knew the real wealth being flung around between a lot of these people.

“Now sweetheart, I’m good for a night or two.” Jack drawls. “But I’ve got a lot of leavin’ left to do.” He hums, quoting the country song.

The pout on Tiffany’s face is both dramatic and pronounced, but seeing that he’s immovable in that point — and knowing his reputation — she makes a small sound of frustrated disgust before flouncing away. Apparently annoyed at having wasted her time on a line cowboy.

The huff that Jack lets out is one of pure relief. Happy that he won’t have to deal with her again for at least half the night. She might make her way back around depending on successful she is. It’s shameful to say, but most of the agents here have dallied with her, including Jack. However, he had only taken her home to satisfy a physical need. He slowly makes his way back to the bar to order another drink, not champagne.

His line of sight is unfortunate as he saunters back toward the open bar. Looking back out to the dance floor, he can see Tequila twirling you around and the two of you laughing as the younger man holds you close and mock-sings along with the band.

Jack’s frown is deep, furrowing his brow as he cuts his eyes away in a jealous huff.

It goes round and round like that for most of the night. One dance partner after the next sweeps you across the dance floor but never the partner you want. One beautiful woman after another sidles up to Jack and bats their eyelashes but none are the woman he actually wants at his side. It’s a three-ring-circus. A whirlwind. But you never seem to get close enough to each other to see that neither of you is actually having any fun.

It’s easy to have an arm around a woman, easy to smile and flirt. His eyes continuously find you on the dance floor. Ginger had been right apparently, you had a damn dance card that was slap full. He hisses under his breath, wondering how many of those men knew you bit your thumb when you were working out a problem or that your eyes changed to a lighter shade when you were feeling slightly bashful.

There isn’t a single night of your life where you’ve gotten this much attention from this many different men — or this many different people period — and while it’s fun in a whirlwind sort of way, you do find yourself clock-watching. Wondering why your fellow agents all seem to be paying you so many compliments tonight and why you sort of feel like Cinderella at the ball without a hint of the real Prince Charming, the closer it gets to midnight the more you’re thinking of just going home. The last thing you want is to glance across the ballroom at midnight and see Jack tangled up in a midnight kiss with some petite redhead or statuesque model with perfect curls. You’ll be happier skipping out early and being in your pjs with a book at midnight than you will be witnessing that.

It’s fucking infuriating to have so many people come between him and you. Every dang time he untangles himself to break in on your dance with some partner, Ginger, Tequila or Champ waylay him. He’s never had such a hard time getting to chat with you and it’s making him slowly unravel his temper. “Ah Jack, there you are.” He sighs and paints on a smile when Champ claps his back and shoves a drink in his hand. “Forgot to mention somethin’….” His eyes slide away from you laughing as you are spun around, bitter to be stonewalled again.

“Well if it ain’t the gol’dern Belle of the Ball.” The voice you hear behind you is the one person you were hoping to avoid tonight, and as you’ve just finished dancing with one of the guys from the technology department who you didn’t even think knew your name, there’s no escaping. Agent Vodka is one of those older men who doesn’t realize that James Bond is just a character and that no one drags that persona into their everyday life. He routinely ‘flirts’ with you like he’s bestowing you a huge goddamn favor for even looking in your direction, and you were genuinely hoping to avoid him tonight.

Vodka is handsome in a classical sense, some would say a silver fox, if he had a better attitude. As it stands, there’s a confused tilt to his Stetson adorned head and he rakes his eyes up and down your body in a very calculated gaze. “You musta cleaned up for hours. Getting ready for a good night.”

“Sure. I guess so.” You nod, tone polite but dismissive. Vodka has a tendency to interpret friendly as begging for hands to be put on you, and the last thing you want to do is encourage him. “Happy new year, Vodka.”

“Seems like Whiskey and I have been the only ones not with you tonight.” He intones, smirking slightly. “Guess you was savin’ the best for last, huh? Since Jack’s hangin’ all over the ladies, I’ll step in and claim this dance.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just stepping up to you and grabbing your waist.

“That’s really okay.” Reeling backward, Vodka is strong but your self-defense training is a hell of a lot better, and you twist in his grip to make sure he can’t get a solid hold on you no matter how hard he tries. “Appreciate the offer,” you huff, trying to push him away. “But I was just heading home.”

“Oh don’t be that way.” Vodka huffs and manages to pull you close. “Believe me, dancin’ ‘s just a prelude to what we can do later.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to dance with you.” You push back against him again, leveraging your elbow against his side to loosen his grip with a sharp shot to his liver. This has gone too far and is hovering on ruining the night — which has been fairly fun despite its lack of your favorite cowboy and coworker.

“Jack-“ Ginger doesn’t bother apologizing as she taps his shoulder and points out to the dance floor. “Why don’t you go save Rye?” She huffs.

At this point it’s obvious that it’s a struggle. People are giving you extra space on the dance floor as they realize what’s happening but for whatever godforsaken reason, no one has stepped in yet. Probably because they’re too shocked that Vodka has finally crossed the line into being physically inappropriate instead of just saying uncomfortable things.

“Sugar, I’m sorry I’m late for our dance.” Jack slaps his hand down on Vodka’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the fleshy muscle. Getting satisfaction from the immediate change in the man’s stance. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, do ya?” His tone is friendly, but there’s a warning woven in the words. Dark eyes turn towards you as you quickly step back from the other man’s grasp.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d keep a dame waitin’.” Vodka mumbles, all sheepishness and apology now that he realizes he’s infringed on another man’s territory.

Jack doesn’t rip into the man like he wants to, everyone else is starting to relax and resume the party. “You probably need to lay off the liquor.” He tells the other agent, not really caring for the man either.

“You forget who we work for, Daniels?” Vodka huffs, giving Jack the stink eye. “Not like you go easy, either.”

“Last time I checked, I took no for an answer, Robbins.” Jack turns his back after letting Vodka go and sweeps you into his arms, effectively dismissing him.

The room damn near erupts into applause, chattering all around you erupting out of uncomfortable silence, but you don’t hear it. You don’t even see Tonic and Champ escorting Vodka out of the ballroom with the utmost immediacy so the dressing-down can be vocal and private. All you see is Jack, and all you hear is Jack. Even as quiet as he is, the huff he gives as he scoops you up and twirls you away speaks volumes. “Jack, you—you didn’t have to—” Of course, if he hadn’t, you’re not sure you could’ve gotten away so cleanly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think a thing of it, sugar.” Although he has a few harsh words rolling around for everyone who didn’t step in. It’s like they were waiting for something. Alcohol’s done made their brains addled. “Although my own apologies for manhandling you to get you outta that sticky situation.” Even though he’s apologizing, he starts to lead you in a dance.

“I really don’t mind.” And that is the understatement of the goddamn year, as you instinctively melt against Jack the second he starts to move.

“Still…..” There’s finally a bit of happiness to the evening and he smirks down at you. “Now you can say your dance card has been filled.”

“Could’ve left Vodka off it completely,” you grumble lightly, but you still end up smiling. When Jack looks at you in almost any way you just light up from the inside. It’s instinctual.

“Don’t know what got into him.” Jack huffs, even though he’s saved you from encounters like that before.

“His namesake, most likely.” He had smelled like it, at least. A fact which added no charm whatsoever to your encounter. “Really, Jack. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Jack nods. “Sugar, you know that I know you are a capable agent. You coulda mopped the floor with him, but I’ll always give you whatever help you need.”

“I prefer not to bring hand-to-hand combat to Champ’s front door if I can help it.” If you let yourself really chew on the fancy, you could imagine Jack as rescuing you like a knight in armor. Like you were his to protect. “Not sure how much he’d appreciate that, regardless of how capable I am.”

“I think you’d find Champ more forgivin’ than you think.” He snorts, reminding himself of his own major fuck up just a few years prior. Champ had forgiven him and allowed him to regain the trust and confidence that he had destroyed through his own bling grief and rage.

“Maybe.” Jack certainly knows your boss better than you do even after several years with the agency, so you’ll differ from him. “But I’m glad to not have to find out. And…” The rest of the thought gets swallowed, and you cut your eyes away from him in embarrassment. There are some things better left unsaid and normally you’re so good at keeping your mouth shut.

“And?” Jack frowns slightly, not liking that you are holding back with him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise him, shaking your head and acting like it isn’t the biggest, most honest confession in the world from you that sets your cheeks on fire and makes you even more bashful around him. “I’m just…glad I got to dance with you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t think you were going to dance out the old year without ole Jack now, did ya?” He sounds pouty that you would even think that.

"Honestly?" Shrugging slightly even with one of his hands splayed across your back and the other holding yours tenderly against his chest, you wonder how ever you ever manage to keep a damn thing to yourself with him around when your mind just sort of seems to melt in his presence. "I was going to split and ring in the new year in my bed with the book I've been reading."

Jack frowns and shakes his head, not agreeing with your plans in the slightest. “Now that seems like a waste.” He draws. “Mighty fine night to spend readin’ a book. You should be doin’ other things.”

"Not a lot of other options to pick from," you mumble, trying to force your mind away from immediately conjuring the mental images and repeated daydreams of doing just about everything under the sun with — and to — him.

Jack wants to protest that, but the song starts to close out and you almost stop in your tracks. Obviously believing that he will end the dance now that Vodka is gone and the set is done. Instead of dropping your hands, he pulls you tighter against him. “Is that why you wore a dress like that, sugar? ‘Cause you didn’t have any options?”

"Ginger picked it out." Wrongly assuming it to be an indictment of the choice, you frown reflexively and wonder why he's still holding on to you. The trouble is over and the song is done. Shouldn't he be finding someone better to spend his time with? "I know it's...it's not right. Flapper dresses are designed for women who look the opposite of me. But she insisted on sticking to the theme."

“Opposite of you?” He makes a face of utter confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Dress looks good, fits you.” Maybe you have a shit ton of pins in the dress? His sweet wife would always have to pin her dresses to get them to fit right. Nearly every night they went out, he was helping her pin it just so.

Skinny is what you meant, but instead of saying so you just chew your lip and shake your head. Voicing that out loud would really just cement the ruination of the night and you don't want to do that. "Never mind," you insist instead. "I'm glad you like it." Even if he's just saying it to be nice, which you're sure he is, it's still nice to hear.

There’s something bugging him about the way you continuously quit talking and get around what you mean. The next song starts to play and Jack moves to that slightly faster tempo. “No one’s breakin’ in yet, sugar. So I’m keepin’ you unless you need a break?”

"No." Not from him. You would never, ever ask for a break from him. "No, I'm good." In fact, you've been so distracted by the rescue that you haven't noticed midnight creeping ever-closer. "I don't want a break."

Jack smiles, not the cocky smirk he adopts or the charming playboy facade that he uses on women like Tiffany. This is a genuine smile, one that makes his dimple show with a flash of white teeth and the crow’s feet around his eyes appear. “Then let’s dance, sugar.”

Champ chuckles when he sidles up beside Ginger with a fresh glass of champagne for each of them and his wife on his other arm, all ready to lead the midnight countdown after this song is over. "Took all damn night," he laughs to his co-conspirator. "And ya had to pull out the big gun with Vodka. But look at 'em."

“Man huffed and puffed at being used.” Ginger rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “But I promised him the Antarctic assignment. It will seem like punishment to everyone else and apparently he’s romancing one of the scientists down there.” Personally, she doesn’t see why anyone would be romanced by Vodka, but to each their own.

"It's for a damn good cause." Champ stifles a guffaw and even his wife looks amused at the way everything went down. "Everybody deserves to be happy, don't they? Even Vodka." It earns another snort from the older man and he aims a smirk at Ginger. "So what's the plan from here, Ging?"

“If Jack will get off his ass, there should be a kiss at midnight.” Ginger grins. “And maybe, just maybe, the dumbass will realize that it’s okay to want her. She wants him too.”

"Of course she does." Everybody knows that. Everybody with eyes and sense in their head, anyway. "He's just been stuck in the whole of his own grief for far too damn long. It's about time he broke free. Which is exactly why I went along with this plan of yours."

“I’m glad you did. Jack’s felt so guilty about actually developing feelings for Rye that he’s convinced himself that it’s wrong to flirt with her.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “When he breaks, it’ll be entertaining.”

"Entertaining for all of us." Grinning, Champ holds his glass out to his partner in crime in salute. "I sure as hell hope it happens right here for all of us to see."

Unaware that he’s being plotted against, Jack continues to hold you in his arms, taking you around the dance floor and trying to keep from asking too many questions that would potentially ruin his easy relationship with you. “Have you had fun? Other than Vodka? Your feet have to be killin’ you, all the dances you’ve been movin’ to.”

“It’s alright, I’ll have a hot bath and soak them. Aside from the one little interruption, everything’s been so nice.” This is the best part, without a doubt. Attention from other people is a novelty, the compliments and laughter a kind change of pace. But any time spent with Jack will always out do any other experience.

“A nice hot soak and a drink is always good to unwind.” Jack hums. “If other activities aren’t available.” The comment is warm, almost suggestive as he twists you around and then pulls you close again, feeling your softness against him and enjoying it.

It’s the worst kind of gut punch, hearing a comment like that from Jack, and your eyes are downcast when you curl back into his arms. It’s too unkind to be deliberate, but at the same time it’s such a careless comment that you just want to scream. He would never be intentionally cruel to you but the flirtatious tone of the comment is too much. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Vodka, then.”

Jack stiffens, frowning immediately and his blood pressure rises in anger. “What the fuck?” He hisses, the moment making him grip you tighter, almost the point of hurting you. “Why- you?” He’s at a loss for words right now.

“Well it’s the only offer I’ve gotten in…a year? Maybe more?” You shrug dismissively but his grip on you doesn’t allow for it, making your tone turn even more bitter in the process. He doesn’t get to get mad about who offers when he has no interest in himself. “Definitely more than a year, now that I think about it.”

“That wasn’t a goddamn offer.” He snorts. “It was a cowboy playin’ grab ass when his partner wasn’t willing.” He reminds you, dark eyes flashing angrily. “Otherwise known as assault.”

“And yet it’s still the only time any man has looked at me twice in more than a calendar year,” you hit back, practically hissing under your breath as embarrassed tears sting at your eyes. “Nobody’s exactly lining up to spend time with the fat girl except tonight which is Ginger’s doing. I know it is.” (edited)

The two of you are hissing back and forth, so preoccupied with your emotions that neither one of you are aware of the fact that the countdown for midnight has begun. The crowd around you starts to chant down from ten but Jack's too busy growling at you in anger. "Why are you so fuckin' quick to insult every goddamn person who decided to dance with you?"

“Because I know I’m right.” The two of you have never once torn into each other like this and while it breaks you’re heart, you’re so angry that lashing out is happening by instinct. It hurts so much more to be doubted by him and you can’t even express why. It’s devastating. “Do you even know what assignments they give me, Jack?” You hiss back, not hearing the shouts around you. “The ones where they need someone to be invisible! If they need someone plain and ignorable, they come straight to me. Do you know how much that fucking hurts? Because I’m good at it and that’s even worse than them just assuming. I’m excellent at not being noticed. At not being desired. It’s my fucking superpower. So no, I don’t think for a second that any of these dances were genuine moments of interest or offers for literally anything else. Because why would they be?”

His heart breaks and he's simultaneously enraged that you view yourself that way. "Five! Four! Thr—" He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck to yank you forward so your nose is less than an inch from his own. "You want a goddamn offer?" He snarls, losing all sense of reason when it comes to you and ready to prove how wrong you are. "Here's your fuckin' offer." Without another word, he drags you forward to plaster his lips against yours in an angry kiss.

It should feel terrible. It should make you so angry you slap him. It should make you feel a hell of a lot of nasty things, but instead what you feel is the undeniable melting of your own self against him, finally getting the only thing you’ve wanted since the day this infuriating cowboy sauntered into your life. Jack is firm under your hands, burning hot and intoxicatingly inviting in the way he does not pull away. You must have gotten so mad you blacked out, because this is impossible.

When you don’t push him away, when you don’t slap him, Jack growls. Using the soft sigh that you give to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with another groan as the cheers and sing of Auld Lang Syne happens all around the two of you.

Either you’ve burst a blood vessel from being so angry and ashamed or this is the best dream you’ve ever had. Jack wraps both of his arms tight around you and you cling to him, fists dig into the arm of his suit jacket and the hair on the nape of his neck as you silently beg this hallucination never to end. You can live and die in this moment and tell yourself that it was more than a dream. You can imagine this is exactly how fiercely Jack kisses when he really wants to. When he wants someone.

The kiss has turned from an angry mashing of his lips against yours to a passionate mingling of your breath and tongues. You whimper and his entire body tighten with need. Overriding the portion of his brain that is screaming that this is a bad idea, that he is bad for you and continuing to kiss you as everyone else has moved into dancing now.

Neither one of you has realized that his hat has been knocked off, or that he’s drawn you so close your back has bowed, or even that you’ve entirely given up on needing to breathe in order to never have to stop kissing him. Years of repressed desire and soul-crushingly unrequited love are just being poured into every second you spend drowning in this impossible fantasy.

“Well damn.” Champ chuckles from his position on the dance floor with his lovely wife. “Didn’t expect that long of a show. Boy don’t stop soon, he’s gonna devour her right there in the middle of the floor.”

“That’s what happens when you repress your feelings for six goddamn years,” Ginger snorts in amusement. “Should I go interrupt them?”

“No.” Champ decides with a shake of his silvery head. “Leave ‘em. Don’t want the boy to get spooked before he makes up his mind what’s gonna happen next.”

“And he will.” Ginger agrees with that completely. Jack spooks faster than a newborn foal.

“He would, where she’s concerned. Boy has his heart in it and he’s been fightin’ it.” Champ agrees as his wife chuckles. “He will figure it out.” She promises. “Rye won’t let him walk away from this with a smile and a handshake.”

“I think she’d rather die than let him go, at this rate.” The smile on Ginger’s face is soft. Glad that her friend is finally getting everything she — you — have ever wanted. It really is only oxygen that makes the two of you pull apart, panting for breath with fingers curled into each other’s flesh and clothes like you’re hanging on for dear life.

Jack’s eyes are dark and searching as he looks at you. Looking for the answer to a question and when he finds what he’s looking for, he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the dance floor.

“Jack?” The realization that that really just happened ignites a small panic in your chest and a riot in your mind, and the fact that Jack hasn’t let go of you or run off in disgust is only confusing you more.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t speak right now. The people on the floor just seem to part, moving out of his way as he guides you off the floor. He does squeeze your hand though.

“Jack?” The longer he goes without saying anything the higher the panic rises, but you cling to his hand all the way to the front door of Champ’s house where the front room has been transformed into a coat closet.

Jack doesn’t answer and spins you around to press you up against the wall, kissing you again. “Get your fuckin’ coat.” He demands roughly.

It’s a much briefer kiss but it leaves you breathless all the same, and the determination in his eyes makes you shiver and rush to obey. If this is what you’re going to get with him — just a few demanding kisses before he decides it was a mistake and turns you away? Then you’ll take it.

His hat is missing, Jack realizes when he goes to readjust it and frowns. Patting his head and looking around to see if it fell off around here, but it’s nowhere in sight. It’s a small price to pay, but he runs his hand through his hair as you rush back to his side. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t seem angry, but for the life of you there is no version of tonight that goes any further. Not in your mind. A conversation about how you shouldn’t have kissed him — or at least kissed him back, since you have a dim memory of his hand pulling you to him right before your mind went blank — or at least about how it was a mistake is bound to follow.

The second your hand is in his again, Jack is dragging you through the doors and down the stairs of the house to his Bronco. He’s parked close, thank god and he can barely get the door open before he’s grabbing your waist and practically throwing you up into the seat.

It shouldn't be a thrill to be lifted up and tossed around as though you weigh next to nothing, but there is something in Jack's singular determination and focus that tells you not to question or fight it. If he wants to manhandle you a little before whatever uncomfortable confrontation is bound to happen? Well, it's not as though you haven't literally fantasized about that scenario. At least now you have a frame of reference.

He’s holding onto his control, barely. Racing around the front of the vehicle and jumping in beside you. He can’t even talk to you as he starts the engine. Thankful that his place isn’t too far away as he throws the Bronco into gear and slings gravel as he spins out.

The most surprising part might be that he reaches for your hand as he drives. His fingers curl through yours and hold onto you on top of the gear shift, not letting you do your usual thing of shifting away or curling in on yourself in uncertainty.

There’s only two miles left to go. He grunts as he slows down to make the turn and your hand moves the shifter with him, making sure that he doesn’t squeeze it too hard as he goes through the gears.

He's driving to his own house. You've done this route yourself more times than you can count for a thousand different reasons. The apartment that you rent with your ample Statesman salary is well on the other side of Louisville and Ginger lives closer to you than to Jack, so it's not like you have any doubt where he's headed. When he pulls the Bronco down his long and winding driveway toward the large farmhouse he's called home for a decade already, your hand tightens slightly in his, nervous and wondering what will come next.

When he cuts the engine, there’s a half a second before he opens the door. Almost speaking but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s climbing out to walk around the truck to open the door.

"I wish you would say something." Even if he's helping you out of the car and holding onto your hand, you can't figure out what's going on in his head. Not having any clue is making you a little panicky the longer it goes on.

Jack stops, two steps away from the path to the front door. “Do you want to come inside?” There’s a fear that you don’t want this. That you are not on the same page as he is.

He's not angry. Or upset anymore, that you can tell. But the determination in his gaze is still there for something that you can't quite put your finger on. "Yes," you decide, nodding as you step toward both him and the house. "I do." Whatever happens, you're hopeful it won't be bad.

You said yes. Your words spur him on again and he’s off like a shot, dragging you behind him. The biometric lock is a godsend. There’s no fumbling for a key at the door as he hustles you inside and slams it behind you both, pressing you against it as he attempts to devour your mouth once more.

This was not the reaction you expected. Not in any way. Not even when he had kissed you twice at Champ’s house before hauling you over to his place with the fires of hell scorching his toes. Anybody else might have read the signals, but not you. Not with the surprised squeal you let out or the soft moan that follows it — both completely outside of your control.

You’re alone now and this time, Jack doesn’t keep his hands on your waist. Both hands grab firm handfuls of your delightful round ass and squeezes as he presses into you. His painfully hard cock grinding into the soft pouches of your hips.

Because of the complete blanket of disbelief you're living under, it takes you longer than you're proud of or will ever admit to realize what is pressing against your hip. It's the first throbbing twitch from under his perfectly tailored suit that has your eyes flying open and both of your hands pressing firmly on his shoulders, breaking the kiss as you gasp in surprise.

“What- I thought-“ Jack’s frown is one of utter confusion as he drops his hands and steps back from you. Hating the feeling of rejection and suddenly wondering if he’s made a fucking fool of himself by getting twisted in knots by a woman who doesn’t actually want him. “‘m sorry.”

"Why?" The incredulous question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the confusion marring both of your faces makes you suck in a deep breath. "I—I just—I'm surprised," you admit, as damned foolish as that makes you sound. Fucking shocked is what you are, but you don't want to be labor the point and ruin whatever is happening.

He feels foolish and embarrassed, like he’s been caught with his hand in a candy jar. Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. “You said you wanted to come in.” He reasons. “I- what did you think would happen?”

"I—I don't know," you admit, feeling even more ridiculous than he does. Your back is still against his front door, crying out loud. "I ruled out you still being mad at me after you kissed me again but I didn't think..." Gesturing at him lamely, you blow out a breath and rub at the back of your neck. "I'm not saying I want to stop, I was just surprised." If this is the only chance you're going to get with him? You're going to take it and run with it as long as it lasts.

He frowns again, wondering how you could want him and yet be surprised when he wants to take you to bed. “So what do you want, sugar? Because I’m feeling like a penny at the bottom of a pan, rattled.”

The expression cracks the tension, at least for you, and an unexpectedly bright and beaming smile graces your lips as you reach for him boldly and find to your own delight and continued surprise that he doesn't draw away. "What I want is...a long shot." It's more than that, but you're downplaying your own fears to a rather extreme degree right now. Trying to be brave. "But...what are the odds you were thinkin' about taking me upstairs?"

“House odds.” Jack rasps out, knowing that the odds are always in the house’s favor when playing at a casino. “Pondered the idea of strippin’ you down right here and making you squeal against the door, but then tossin’ you over my shoulder and haulin’ you to my large, luxurious bed also has its merits.”

You genuinely have to shut your eyes to steady yourself, exhaling long and deep and praying you aren't actually moaning out loud like you are in your head. As it stands, both images he paints have your knees weak and your body shivering. "Eith—um—either one," you manage to stammer out, eyelashes parting so hesitantly that they flutter like wings. "Either one is good."

“Sexy as you look, sugar….” Now that he knows that you are on the same page as him, a little bit of the cocky swagger is back. “Thinkin’ it’d be a goddamn shame not to spread you out.” Despite your stature, Jack tucks his shoulder and scoops you up over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, bolting for the stairs.

"Holy hell, Jack!" A nervous shout and a squeak escape you when he picks you up, and you cling to his jacket as he carries you through the house you've visited innumerable times before.

Chuckling, Jack slaps your ass with his free hand as he ambles up the stairs easily. “Don’t be nervous, sugar, I won’t drop you.”

This time you definitely do moan out loud, too taken by surprise to stop the sound or swallow it before it can come out of your mouth and you know Jack heard.

He grins to himself, slapping your ass again and is rewarded with another moan. “Mmmmhm.” He chuckles. “Rye likes a little bit of light spanking. Noted.”

"Pretty sure I'll like anything you do," you admit ruefully, though you're quickly feeling the constraints of embarrassment fall away as he reaches his bedroom door. This is real. This is really happening.

"I'll keep that in mind when I hogtie you to the bed and lick whipped cream off your body." He teases, kicking open the slightly ajar door and striding into the room to toss you down on the bed like a character in a romance novel. Right now, he doesn't know if he's supposed to be the hero or the villain, feeling a bit like both as his rough handling of you as him immediately reaching for your ankles to pull off your shoes in his eagerness to see you naked in his bed.

“See?” You huff at him, heavy breathing coming from nothing but an undeniable surplus of desire. “That actually sounds sexy coming from you.” Everything does, but his quick fingers are divesting you of your shoes and that reminds you how your Spanx is part of this undressing process — which is the single least sexy thing in the world.

Jack rips off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it down on the floor. Climbing up onto the bed and over you to press against you fully, pinning you down to the bed with a groan. Quickly capturing your lips again in a frenzied kiss.

It makes no damn sense to you, but you’re not going to question it anymore. If Jack could have literally anyone in the world but for tonight he chooses you, then you’re just going to make sure he doesn’t regret it. That decision on your part sort of pulls you out of your nervous shock, and all at once your hands are pulling open his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with enthusiasm.

“There we go.” Jack groans when you stop acting shocked and start acting. Your hands on his body makes him shake and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “Sugar.”

He could probably call you whatever he wanted and you would just go with it, but hearing him call you Sugar — that sickly sweet name he favors so much yet seems to bestow on you so rarely? It feels like you might melt so deeply into his plush mattress that you will never get up again.

Moving from your lips takes sheer willpower but he wants to explore more of you. One hand bracing on the bed and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast as he kisses down your chin and to the soft, vulnerable skin of your throat. “Driving me crazy, baby girl.” He coos, voice rough and lusty. “So goddamn pretty.”

No one who has ever met Jack would be surprised to learn how mouthy the cowboy is in bed. He’s mouthy in every other aspect of his life so frankly it would be pretty strange if this was the exception. Still, to hear those words said to you is beyond your wildest dreams. It’s surreal in the most sensational of ways. Even when you had dreamed of being with Jack, you had never dreamed of him praising you.

He groans when your fingernails bite into the skin on his chest as you hastily push the shirt opened. “Tigress, huh?” He growls, squeezing your tit again, a little harder this time and his hard cock pulses against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m just as goddamn eager as you. But ‘ole Jack likes a bit of wildness.” He bites down on your shoulder as he chuckles. “We’ll have ourselves one hell of a rodeo tonight.”

If you even knew where half this boldness came from, you might be a little embarrassed. But given the fact that you never thought this would happen, it mostly just feels like you're telling yourself not to waste the chance. Lightning never strikes the same place twice and this is your lightning strike, so you're going to lean into the whole thing if that's what he really wants. Your nails strike a path down his chest but get caught in his undershirt, a fact which makes you huff in frustration and search blindly for the hem to tear off that layer of clothing as well.

Jack groans and finally decides to give you what you want. Pulling back long enough to finish pulling his arms out of the shirt sleeves, he tears the undershirt off and throws it off the side of the bed to reveal his chest. Unable to resist pulling your dress down to pop your breast out and diving back down to wrap his mouth around a nipple.

"Oh fuck." It's a move you weren't expecting, but your back arches off the mattress instinctively to push your chest up and invite him to take and take and take — just as much as he wants to. If you were coherent enough to suggest it you would try to start wiggling out of your dress but as it is the only thing you can focus on is the heat of him surrounding you and the way every place he kisses you seems to catch on fire immediately at the press of his lips.

He suckles, bites and then licks the hard nub in his mouth like he’s gorging himself on you. Because he is. Hands searching for the zipper to your gorgeous dress. It’s beautiful, but it needs to be beautiful on his floor.

"If you want it off, you have to let me sit up," you manage to huff out, barely able to do more than pant at the way he's clearly trying to devour your tits first.

Groaning in protest, his lips are twisting in a pout as he pulls away. Panting breathlessly as he itches to launch himself at you again. “Hurry up, sugar.”

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the zipper, pulling it down and carefully undoing the clasp at the top before letting the heavily sequined cocktail dress slip off of your arms so you can maneuver it over your head. Half-naked in Jack's bed with panties so soaked you could probably wring them out is not how you expected to end this night, but here you are.

“Fuck.” Jack frowns at the tight shapewear he’s met with. “My present’s a little too wrapped for my liking, baby girl.” He hisses, curling his fingers under the layer to start stripping it off of you. “Want you naked.”

"It was the only way that dress was gonna look halfway decent," you mumble, shifting under him and definitely avoiding looking him in the face while he peels the Spanx off of you. It's a little bit too intimate even for the man you've wanted to be intimate with for years — to the point of making you feel completely naked even when you still have your bra and panties on.

He scoffs, nearly ready to whip his knife out and start slicing the material. “Bullshit.” He huffs, happy there’s just the bra and he uses two fingers to flick the four hooks open. “You don’t need nothin’.” Instead of explaining, he’s diving back into your tits while one hand dips into your panties.

“Fuck, Jack!” Instead of a tight reaction of shock, this time he’s rewarded with a moan and your legs falling open for him as the fingers of one hand dig through his thick hair to scratch along the base of his scalp. If he wants you to be bold, you’ll be bold. You’ll be whatever Jack wants as long as you just get to be in his bed for one night.

Jack moans against your tits, incredibly turned on by the pure moxy he’s always loved in you. Despite your utterly untrue view on yourself, you are sassy, sweet and sexy. That’s why he’s unable to resist now that he’s tasted you. Once he’s teased one breast enough, he switches to the other. “Gonna eat you up, sugar. Devour you whole.”

"All yours." It's sort of unintentional, the vow-like nature of the thing, but you're just being honest. You've really been Jack's since the day you met him. Even if it's taken so many damn years to get the two of you into this situation together, it's still the truth. "Whatever you want, handsome."

He groans, fingers sliding through the sweet slick that is covering your folds. “Want you.” He mumbles as he starts to slide his finger deeper, pressing against your entrance.

It's not even in your mind to ask why when he's splitting you open on two thick fingers like that, and you swear if that's how this night is starting you might actually ascend directly to some higher plain if you get to actual sex. "Ha—fuck— you have me."

“Mmmmmm.” He licks your nipple “Not yet.” He pouts, pulling his fingers back out of you to plunge them in again. “But I will, sugar. Cum for me and then I’ll have you like I’ve been dreamin’.”

The curse you groan out is nearly incoherent, more of an agreement than anything else but you'll be damned if you let this moment be anything less than memorable for both of you. Jack hovers over you and you wind your arms around him to encourage him to continue sucking on your tits while his fingers piston in and out of your pussy with determination. You know it won't take too much longer before your legs start to shake, and as if Jack knows it just as intuitively, he curls his fingers inside you and you gasp out a moan of his name.

His teeth nip at your sensitive flesh as he hisses. Feeling how tight your pussy squeezes his fingers and imagines his cock inside you. Tight and fucking scorching hot, just like he had imagined with his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower. “That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos before he sucks on your nipple again. Moaning when you arch up, writhing under him and making the prettiest, most desperate sounds he’s heard in a long time.

No one who has ever been in this bed has ever left it with any remaining doubts about Jack’s skills as a lover, and while you knew that before? Now you understand it oh-so-very deeply. His fingers pump into you mercilessly, curling at just the right angle to make you cry out in pleasure in every pass, and yet somehow he’s managed to keep the angle of that curl perfect while still holding them apart — stretching your eager pussy open and making sure you’re ready to take every inch of him. All of those intricacies combine with the dedication attention he is lavishing on your tits, and when the tense coil of restraint in your belly snaps it explodes into a thousand white-hot stars behind your eyes as you cum for him.

You’re gorgeous when you fall apart, just like he knew you would be. Keeping his fingers moving, he watches, enthralled with you as you cry out his name in a pitch that has his cock throbbing. The hot gush of your pleasure makes his fingers squelch inside you and he groans out your name while he starts to slow down the rhythm of his hand, letting you float down from your orgasm, drawing it out for you.

“Holy hell…” When your eyes open again you’re completely boneless beneath him, giggling softly at the light-as-air feeling in your body that never ever feels lighter than anything.

Dragging his wet fingers out of your cunt is his own personal kind of hell, but the urge to taste you is too great. Watching you with dark eyes as he slips his two fingers into his mouth with a lusty groan.

“Take your pants off.” The way you groan it is nearly an order but you definitely meant it to be begging, though at this point you don’t care. Especially when he arches an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Take your fucking pants off, Jack.”

Chuckling, he shuffles off the bed to oblige you. “Never let it be said I don’t follow orders, sugar.” He winks as he kicks off the tuxedo pants and hooks his fingers into his boxer briefs. “These too?”

“The fact that you even wear underwear is a shock,” you tease, motioning for him to continue stripping and trying — but probably not succeeding — to not stare.

He smirks. “Had to contain the beast for once.” He winks as he drags the tight material down. “Don’t wear ‘em normally.”

The Beast is probably as good a name as any, and you have to swallow a groan when he frees his throbbing cock — already damp with precum. It’s a wonder he can contain it, and you’re caught in between wanting to bend forward and taste him or just lying back for him to have his way with you. Curiosity and a curtain of lust win out on the short struggle, and you lean forward to take the purple head of his cock in your mouth just after he climbs back onto the bed.

“Fuck!” Jack moans out loudly and pushes your head away gently after a moment. “Baby, baby…” he pants. “You keep that up and this rodeo will be over before it starts.”

“Sorry…” Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you shift back to get under his blankets. “I just had to know…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jack huffs. Kneeling on the bed and pulling the covers away as you hide your body away from his eyes. “Just don’t want to embarrass myself by blowing my load because of your pretty mouth before I can hear you scream my name.”

“I already have,” you remind him, a softness in your tone belied by the heat in both of your eyes. “Guess I might have to be a little louder this time.”

“Only if it’s right in my ear.” Jack wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it as he reaches for your thigh. “Buried deep inside that little cunt and feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

It goes without saying that you’re both clean. All Statesman agents are required to have clean bills of health in order to be on the roster for missions and you’re both active agents. “I—have an IUD.” Is what you tell him instead, shivering a little at the reality of what is about to happen.

Eyes lighting up in delight, Jack’s lips curl up. “Oh sugar, it’s not my birthday yet, why are you showerin’ me with presents?” He coos, sliding his hand up and down your ample thigh. “Pretty as a damn picture.”

The real answer is that you’re desperate to feel him, but you just smirk instead, not wanting to get your heart more involved than it already is. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’ll be damned if we stop now because of it.”

“If you want me to get one…” Jack motions back to his pants. “I have one in my wallet.”

“I don’t want the barrier,” you admit, biting your lip at the extremely vulnerable nature of that confession. “If it’s okay with you.”

His smirk turns into a wicked grin. “You read my mind, sugar. I want to feel all of you.”

You could make a joke about how much of you there is to feel, but just this once you stifle the urge. Opting instead to reach out and gently cup Jack's cheeks in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”

As you lean back, Jack follows you. Climbing up your body and groaning as he settles between your thighs. “You want to cum again, pretty girl?”

"Not without you this time." The reality of Jack is better than anything you thought so far. Since this miracle is surely once in a lifetime, you want it to be as amazing as possible.

Jack groans your name, pressing his lips to yours in another hot, wet kiss. Passionate and consuming as he pushes an arm underneath you. “I’m right here with you.”

As impossible as it seems, he really is. He is right there with you, taking you in his arms and making you feel delicate and desirable for the first real time in your entire adult life.

He doesn’t rush, although he wants to. Every kiss is slow and thorough. Reaching down between you to take hold of himself to notch at your entrance. “Hold on, sugar. See if we can ride for longer than eight seconds.”

“I’m not gonna buck you, Jack.” You can promise him that, because you know damn well you’re going to hold onto this moment for dear life and not question the gift that it is. This one little shining moment is just for the two of you and you’re never going to forget a single second of it.

His eyes are watching, burning into yours as he starts to slowly rock his hips forward. Breaking you open with the first inch of his cock and swooping in to kiss you again when you gasp.

The world slows down, motions stretching into time and blending together in ways that you can’t quite wrap your head around so all you know in this moment is Jack. Every time he thrusts forward again your moans get that much deeper, until on the final experimental rock of his hips, he is seated fully inside you and you feel so spellbound and grateful for the moment that you’re all but sure you could cry. Instead you pour yourself into kissing him, rocking your own hips slightly to take him more comfortably and adjust to the weighty feeling of having him inside you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”

Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”

“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”

“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.

“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.

He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.

Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.

If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.

It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)

His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”

“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.

Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”

"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."

“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”

A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.

Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”

You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.

Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.

There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.

The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”

He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."

His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.

That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”

There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.

“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.

"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.

******

"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.

"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.

“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”

"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."

Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.

"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."

There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”

The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."

“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.

"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.

“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”

“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.

******

Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.

Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.

“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.

“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.

Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”

“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”

“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”

“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.

His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”

“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”

“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”

“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”

Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.

******

It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.

He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.

“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”

Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.

“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”

“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”

Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.

Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.

It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”

“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.

“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”

“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”

“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.

“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.

The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.

“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.

He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”

Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”

Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”

“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”

“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”

“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”

“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”

“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”

“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”

“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”

“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”

Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.

Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”

Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”

“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”

Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.

“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”

“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”

“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”

“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”

He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”

“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.

Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”

“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.

“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”

“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”

“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”

Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”

“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”

“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”

“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”

“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”

“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack Daniels x plus size reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Kingsman Golden Circle #new years eve #new years fic #idiots in love #pining #the love is requited they're just dumb

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agentwhiskeysdarlin · 1 year

Text

Come Back to Me

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x F!Reader

Rating: NSFW 18+

Warnings: reader is super pissed, mentions of injury (slightly), lots of making out, quick and needy sex, p in v sex, unprotected sec (wrap it up kids), dash of angst but still fluffy

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Notes: First Jack fic of the year!!!! FINALLY! Back to my favorite cowboy and what a way to get back into writing him. This was fun to write based off this request! Thank you anon for the request and I hope it lives up to what you wanted! Thank you to @clint-aww-no-barton as always and big thanks to all the new readers!! If you want to be added to my taglist please let me know!!

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This work is intended for adult eyes only. By continuing, you agree that you are 18 or older.

People moved from your path with clear concern and worry. The look on your face clearly showed the rage you felt. Your boss and father was dragging behind you, calling after you trying to calm you down, but there was no use. These posh prick assholes came into your agency and shot one of your fellow agents. Not only that, but they messed with the one man you’d ever loved. That meant war. You would burn Kingsman to the fucking ground.

“Ginger said he was going to be fine kiddo,” your father, Champ spoke as you stepped on the elevator that would lead to where sick bay was.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to kill that asshole for shooting him. He shouldn’t have been cleared to go out in the field,” you snapped as you turned to Champ.

That shut his mouth, given he was the one who cleared him. The elevator doors opened and there stood Harry and Eggsy. One look in your direction and Eggsy’s eyes bulged.

“Uh Harry maybe we should…”

“Oh I don’t think so.”

You stormed forward, pushing Harry against the glass that overlooked the hanger just outside.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t throttle you where you stand?!”

“Look, Harry was out of line but Whiskey is going to be okay.”

Eggsy stepped forward, panic laced through his voice. He took one of your arms, Champ grabbing the other and they pulled you from Harry. He straightened his suit as you glared holes through him.

“Get off me!” You shrugged both men off you and stepped back.

“I believe Agent Whiskey may be…”

“Harry don’t!” Eggsy pointed to him.

“Oh no! Please finish your sentence, may what?”, the venom laced words almost spat from your mouth. You hadn’t even noticed your father had stepped away on the phone, until he returned.

“We found where Poppy is. I’m sending you both with Merlin, now.”

“You have to be kidding me!” You turned to him.

“Listen kiddo, I understand, but you need to calm down. Go be with Jack.”

You stood there, swearing steam was coming out of your ears. You glared at Harry one last time, before turning on your heels and headed into sick bay.

“At least she’ll never let anyone run over her,” you heard Eggsy comment.

“Just how I raised her.”

Pride laced your fathers words, but even in that moment you couldn’t take it in. You were stopped dead at the sight before you. Jack was lying in one of the beds, still in his snowsuit and his head encased in a contraption of Statesman making. It was genius honestly and the invention had saved countless agents in the past. Most of them would tell anyone, they’d rather take a head shot than anywhere else.

“He is going to be fine but we both know what can happen,” Ginger spoke, making you jump slightly.

“We won’t really know until he wakes up,” you let out a sigh, your anger gone and anxiety taking hold of you.

“I gotta go help with the mission. Are you okay to stay with him?” Ginger placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you gave her a slight smile.

“Yeah I got this,” you spoke softly and with that Ginger was gone.

You let out a sigh and finally made yourself walk forward, sitting down in a chair next to the bed. All you could do now was wait. Your mind wandered to the worst case scenarios, and then it would skip to the feelings you kept buried so deep. Champ being your father and boss caused issues when it came to dating fellow agents, especially Jack. Your father loved him, like he did all his agents, but as he said all too often, “no one is good enough for my little girl.” You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice in your head. He really needed to move past that. Jack had been the only guy who you’d ever felt that pull with, and the temptation to beg your father to let you have this had been strong for a long time.

You had absentmindedly taken Jack’s hand, lacing your fingers in between his. Then they twitched and your head shot up. The doors around Jack’s head opened suddenly and as he sat up, you stood. You backed up as he looked around, confusion clear on his face. Then his eyes snapped up at you, and a smirk pulled at his lips. You could tell by the way he looked at you with no recognition, that he had taken several steps back in life. You backed up again as he slid off the bed.

“Well ain’t you the most beautiful thing to wake up to.”

His voice held a different tone to it than it did normally. You tried to push the smile away, to keep from rolling your eyes, but you didn’t succeed in either. He started in, talking way too fast, with promises of taking you home and treating you right. You had to think fast how to snap him back to the present. Then an idea sprung to your mind and you threw caution to the wind. You stepped toward him now, causing him to stop. You reached up, taking his face in between your hands and smashed your lips against his, cutting him off mid sentence. It took him a few moments, a slight jump and then he was kissing you back, pulling you closer to him until you were desperate for air.

“Well damn darlin’,” Jack chuckled back to himself.

“There he is.” He gave you a questioning look. “You were young Jack again, trying to put the moves on me.”

“I don’t have to be a younger me to do that,” he smirked down at you. “But thank you for bringing me back like that.”

You searched his eyes and he seemed to be doing the same to you. Your heart pounded in your ears and you knew, right now, was the chance to finally just take the plunge.

“Oh fuck it,” you panted and crashed your lips back to his.

One arm stayed solid around your waist, as he kissed you back, the other coming up to your cheek, brushing hair away. He kissed you deeper, pulling you so close that you were as connected as you could be with clothes on.

“Where’s Ginger?” He panted as he pulled away, backing you up toward the bed.

“Not here,” was all you said before your lips collided again, and you melted into him.

Jack skillfully turned you around, picking you up as he did and placing you on the bed. You opened your legs for him and he slid between them, never once letting his lips slip from yours. Everything was Jack, the sick bay slipped away, the thought of anyone coming in a distant thought. You didn’t care anymore, you needed him and you needed him now. The damn had broke and you were swept up in the flood of feelings taking over.

“We need to be quick, unfortunately,” he kissed you again deeply. “But I promise I’m going to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

He froze when your hand pushed on his chest slightly, your eyes connecting as something different danced there.

“Jack I’ve wanted nothing more for a long time. It’s just…”

“Champ.”

“He’ll get over it. I’m an adult. It’s past time for him to let go.”

He smiled then and let out a breath, before his lips were back on yours again. His hands wandered, slipping under your dress and up your thighs, making you shiver. You let out a whine against his lips, as he slipped your dress up to your midsection. He made quick work of pulling off the snowsuit he wore and freeing himself from his jeans. He pulled away panting as you laid down and he pulled you to the edge, before resting his forehead against yours. His eyes stayed connected to yours as he slipped your underwear off until you looked down, watching as he tucked them into his pocket. He smirked and you couldn’t stop one from pulling at your own lips.

“You okay?” He spoke softly and you simply nodded your head.

He pushed inside of you and the two of you let out your own noises of pleasure. Your eyes rolled and then fluttered shut at the feeling of him. He felt so perfect, like he was meant for you. His lips took yours again, as he started to move his hips gently but quickly.

“You feel so damn good darlin’,” he groaned against your lips, pulling just away enough to speak.

You couldn’t even respond. You were too overwhelmed with it all. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your fingers went to his hair. He moved quicker and just slightly harder, both of you desperate to hit your highs as quick as you could. Jack licked his two middle fingers, and snaked them between the two of you to rub your clit. You let out a loud moan, that was cut off by his lips, and you snapped. Your body shook and you grabbed at him in every way possible, like a vice. He took over every single one of your senses, driving your through your high. You heard him, almost from far away, groaning in your ear as his head slumped to your shoulder as he shuddered through his own release. Both of your bodies relaxed in unison, and you panted for only a few moments longer. You desperately wished he didn’t have to move away, that this moment didn’t have to end. Reality sucked that way. He pushed himself away reluctantly and pulled out of you, making you hissing at the loss of him. He fixed himself and then helped you, both of you still dazed and humming with the afterglow.

“What happens now?” the fear in your voice evident.

“I’m not real sure darlin’, but I know I want to continue this and, maybe, take you on a real date sometime. That’s, if you’ll have me. And your pops doesn’t kill me.”

You both let out a chuckle.

“Jack I’ve wanted this for a really long time. I’ve just, always been worried about so many way this could go wrong, but seeing you lying on that bed…I…I knew I needed to just take the jump, and hope you caught me.”

“I’ll always catch you darlin’,” he bent, kissing your forehead gently, and you smiled beaming bright.

“Guys we have a problem,” Ginger burst in to the room, looking between the two of you in shock, before shaking her head slightly.

“What’s going on?”

Jack spoke, but his voice sounded off to you, suddenly. You studied him as Ginger went into the details of the mission and the loss of Merlin. Jack asked her to get his jet ready, and you followed him to his office where he could change. Something had shifted in his demeanor and it made your stomach flip with dread. Something was wrong, you could feel it. He was slipping in to a jean jacket when you finally pushed the words out.

“Jack,” he turned to you, eyes softening and eyebrows raising slightly. “Please come back to me. Whatever happens next, I want to figure it out with you.”

The words came out soft, scared, as the instincts that had been honed in your time as an agent warned you of impending danger. He locked eyes with you and he seemed to wrestle with himself for far too long, before he physically wilted. Decision seemingly made he stepped forward, kissing your forehead again.

“I promise I’ll come back to you darlin’,” you knew he meant it, could hear it in his voice, but it only made you relax slightly, intuition still telling you something was wrong.

You stood there in his office and watched him leave, his promise ringing in your ears. All you could do, was wait.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl @arcadianempress @discogrrl @immundusspiritu @someplace-darker @thisis-theway @ohpedromypedro @scribbledghost @fioccodineveautunnale @princess-and-pedro @phoenixhalliwell @littlevodka @all-hallows-evie @mack4676 @perropascal @audreyshepbvrn @mswarriorbabe80 @kaqua @novemberrain221 @weasleywinchester

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐂𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 ‘𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘’ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐒

↳ summary: a quiet day off work calls for something sweet. Jack treats you to some pancakes and naughty chaos ensues.

↳ pairing: jack 'whiskey' daniels x f!reader

↳ [2k words] content: 18+ MDNI, food, cooking, soft!dom x sub dynamics, spanking, oral (f receiving). This is a @beskarbabs remaster -- original post date 2021.

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Given your tireless work schedules, it's uncommon for you and Jack to have mornings together. Spending those scarce daybreak hours in the kitchen was exceptional. For you to walk through the doorway in just your underwear and one of his oversized shirts to find Agent Whiskey taking breakfast into his own hands? Unheard of.

Jack had pursued you for quite some time. Flowers, chocolates, and gifts had all failed to win you over in his mission to make you his girlfriend. He'd tried everything from enlisting the help of Tequila to exaggerate all the reasons he'd be a good partner. He even begged Ginger Ale to put in a good word. Regardless, after months of attempts, he had resigned to accepting that you simply didn't see him that way.

That was until he invited you to breakfast after a particularly arduous mission that had left you with minor injuries and a foul mood. On that morning, the golden glow of the sunbeams leaking in from the window above the counter lit up the kitchen as the smell of batter warmed you up from the inside. You could remember it so clearly, Jack's hat cast to the side on the table you sat at as he flipped the pancakes diligently in the pan without dropping or creasing one.

The fluffiness, the sweetness that bordered on sickly yet still managed to be just perfect, was enough for you to reconsider your stance on your relationship with the mildly mulish man. The lemon juice and sugar sprinkled on top just for you gave you no option but to pay your compliments to the chef with a kiss.

It was Jack's favourite story. He told literally anyone who would listen.

It goes without saying, now that Jack had seduced you with his southern charm and humour consisting of mostly (if not all) dad jokes, that any morning the two of you managed to spend together, he would pull out the eggs, milk, flour and sugar. This morning appears to be no different.

"Are you making pancakes?" You ask softly, cheekbone pressed between his shoulder blades as you hold him from behind. You hear him chuckle softly, turning his face over his shoulder. You know what he's asking for and oblige, pressing a chaste kiss to his bronzed skin.

"Sure am, Sugar." He returns to his work, a smile hidden under that well-kept moustache. He takes up the batter bowl and expertly uses the spatula in hand to pour out the mixture into the frying pan without spilling even a dribble. He lays the spatula down into the bowl, handle propped up against the rim as he focuses on cooking the batter so it's perfectly golden and crispy.

The warm, homey smell of frying batter swirling from the stove makes your mouth water and your stomach growl, begging for something substantial. Finally, you decide you don't want to wait for Jack to use the mixture up, so use your index finger to scoop up some of the dough and smear it across your tongue.

Big mistake.

You see Jack's broad shoulders stop moving as he pauses his work. He leisurely lays down the pan on the heat mat lying on the counter before turning to you with a fixed and piercing gaze. He arches a thick eyebrow accusatorially.

"Did you just steal some?" His voice is deep, slipping further into his accent from the low volume. You look up into his eyes, your own wide with confusion at the abrupt change in atmosphere.

"... Yes," you admit. It comes out in a whisper, aware by now that Whiskey was planning something if the smirk tugging at the edge of his lip was anything to go by. He takes up the handle of the spatula from the bowl, slowly raising it and allowing the loose mixture to fall back into the bowl. He keeps his eyes on you.

"Clean it," he murmurs, lifting the head of the utensil to your mouth. It takes a second for his order to process in your brain. By then, he's already pressing the flat side to your lips. You stare up at him, bewildered, as you trail your tongue across the plastic. You can taste the sweetness that coats your tastebuds, but note the bitterness of raw flour.

Jack's eyes follow your ministrations, seemingly unaffected by your actions. He's the most unreadable you'd ever seen, his emotions usually worn on the rim of his cowboy hat rather than his sleeve, dangling between your eyes so it was impossible to miss. Right now, however, his face is blank.

The batter gathers on your tongue until you've cleared one side, and Jack twists the handle and exposes the other side to you. You also get to work on that one, humming softly at the addictively sweet taste.

Held at this angle, the mix begins to collect on the curve of the head. It drips onto your chin and dribbles down, catching your lover's attention. However, it isn't until it falls from your chin and onto the top of your breast that you notice his eye twitch, evidence that he was affected by the scene.

Jack pulls the plastic tool from you, inspecting it for leftovers. When he finds it clean, he looks back to you. He's rock-hard in his jeans. You had learnt that Jack's tight denim did very little to hide his excitement over the many times he'd had to restrain himself during missions. It certainly wasn't hard to miss.

"Hands on the table, hips out," he orders again. You blink up at him, a weak laugh escaping your throat.

"What are you gonna do, Jack? Arrest me?" You manage to force out, heart thudding wildly in your chest. He's looking at you like he could eat you.

"You gonna do as I say?" He questions, tone demanding. You do. You turn your back to him, bending at the waist and placing your palms on the dining table. You sense him come up behind you, kicking your feet apart as though he's about to search you while he sets the bowl of batter down beside your wrist.

"Last time I checked, you were a Statesman, not a police offic-" You yelp out as the sharp sound slap that practically reverberates around the room, the sharp sting burning its way into the flesh of your exposed ass cheeks underneath the hem of the shirt you had borrowed for the morning.

The blossoming sensation of prickling skin where the object had connected had you whipping your head around to glare at Jack, whose smirk informs you he had rather enjoyed your reaction. It's then that he wiggles the spatula in his hand, alerting you to the fact he had just spanked you with it.

"Jack!" You hiss, hand moving to rub at the irritated area, "What was that for?" He swats your hand away, taking the hem of his shirt you were wearing and hiking it up over your hips so your ass is entirely exposed to him.

"Punishment for stealing," he says simply, voice low and raspy. You roll your eyes, about to argue, when he lands the utensil on your thighs just underneath the crease of your ass. It sparks a harsh sting settling deep between your legs as you cry out in shock.

There's a silence that follows in the room, but inside your ears, you can hear the pounding of your blood rushing through your body, your heart thrumming so hard it makes your chest hurt. Jack was adventurous, sure, but this was new. Deep down, you know he had started this as a joke, but if the tent you had seen in his tight jeans was anything to go by, he was enjoying this... But, of course, he isn't the only one...

And it looks like Jack noticed.

He barely skips a beat, almost like this is what he had planned all along.

"You're gonna count them out for me, Sugar." He commands, palm settling on your lower back while he waits for your consent. His body language in your peripheral has changed, suddenly very serious and driven by arousal. You nod with a shaky breath, confirming.

"I wanna hear you say it, Darlin'." Even now, he still takes so much care of you.

"I'll count them out," you repeat you him, and you swear you hear him whisper 'good girl' behind you. The bite of the first two blows starts to ebb away, aided by the gentle stroke over the curve of your ass with the back of his fingers as he takes in the view of your pink cheeks.

He gives you no further warning than removing his hand. You hear the THWACK of the pancake turner first, but the hot, prickling pain follows the sound quickly, blooming across your cheeks. You let out a soft whine, releasing the sound in an attempt to ease the tension in your muscles.

"One," you squeak out, the power-play making you light-headed as your pussy flutters around nothing. Jack is totally silent, not allowing you to see his response to your reaction.

Another quick snap of his wrist and the sharp smack of the handle hits once again just under your ass. It hurts so good, a loud moan escaping your lips as you brace yourself against the tenderness. So caught up in breathing through the pinch, you forget to count out quickly enough.

"T-Two!" You try to correct yourself, but Jack has already noticed your 'defiance'. He tuts softly, shaking his head.

"You'll have to do better than that, Sugar. I'll let this one slide-" he grips your sore asscheeks gently, enough for goosebumps to rise across your skin at the deep throbbing between your legs, "But we'll start from zero if it happens again." You nod quickly, confirming that you've heard him.

He's gracious, soothing the pain he had inflicted for just a moment before striking you again, with the rubber head this time.

"Ffu- Three," you moan, the pulses of pain thrumming straight to your core. You can feel that you're soaking your panties through, dripping from the mixture of anticipation and smarting skin.

"Two more," Jack informs you, watching the way you rub your thighs together in search of some kind of friction for your stiff and aching clit. It's no use, you both know that, so you resign to whinging softly, acknowledging the last two blows.

He spanks you again.

"Fffour!" You struggle; the heat in your asscheeks and between your thighs is almost unbearable. You can practically feel the welts rising on your skin, the buzzing energy there creating perfect ghost-touches of the utensil.

The last blow strikes you so hard that you hear it ringing in your ears. It cracks like lightning up your spine, settling deep in your cunt as you wail on the final number.

"Fiiiveee~" Sobs escape you, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes at the relief and the intense need to be touched, to ride out an orgasm that had built up so much it felt like your legs were going to fall out from underneath you. You're shaking at the knees, relying heavily on the support of the table to keep you upright.

"Such a good girl, Sugar. You did so good," he murmurs, smoothing your skin with a light touch as he moves to his knees behind you. He kisses behind your trembling knees, your left first, and then your right. He trails the tip of his nose up the back of your right thigh, noting the whines of desperation that escape you.

"Mhmm. These," he whispers, pressing gentle and loving kisses to the swell of your stinging asscheeks, "These are my favourite cakes," he subtly teases you, and you laugh out weakly at his playful, cheeky side returning. Though, the laughter doesn't last long as he moves his mouth between your legs to trace his tongue over your still-clothed cunt.

"But nothing beats the taste of this..." he groans out, the sweet tang of your arousal painting his tongue. He holds your hip in one hand, thumbs tracing gentle patterns on your hipbone while he uses the other to tug your panties to the side.

"If you haven't learnt your lesson about stealing, I can think of another way to punish you," he rasps, nose nudging at your clit.

Needless to say, you dipped your fingers into the batter bowl once more.

Maybe twice.

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 2 years

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writer wednesday #12 - 8/3/2022

Hi everyone!! I hope you’re all having a good week so far and that you’re staying cool during this scorching hot summer. I’m back to my weekly recs after finishing the #fourteendaysofreading challenge (go check out that page for tons of stories from MULTIPLE fandoms!) and I’m super stoked to shoot about these three great stories, so let’s cut yo the chase, shall we? Here are three things I read this week that made me say “wow, that was great!”:

*as always, this list is ordered by length.*

Still Chasing For That Feeling by @something-tofightfor

Joel Miller x various characters / x Female Reader

A look at Joel’s past love life

WC: 2k

Truly understanding Joel Miller means understanding all of the things he’s gone through and chosen and gained and lost - and this piece so perfectly encapsulates those things as they pertain to his former and current relationships. It is heartbreaking to know that he has had to withstand so much pain and guilt, so many touch decisions and circumstances that were beyond his control despite his best intentions and efforts. But the fact that even when he tries to close himself off to these types of relationships (the kind that hurt too much to lose) he can’t resist letting Ellie and eventually Reader in gives me so much hope that he can have the happiness he’s been denied for so long. It means that he hasn’t given up on himself yet, and that’s huge. I love that man to smithereens, heartache and all.

Cognitive Dissonance Ch. 1: Never Realized I’d Been Here Before by @prolix-yuy

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Female Reader

Westworld x Kingsman Golden Circle AU (!!)

WC: 2.2k

HOWDY AND HELLO! WHERE ARE ALL MY YEEHAW FRIENDS? ARE YOU READY FOR A ROOTIN’ TOOTIN’ PISTOL SHOOTIN’ GOOD TIME? If the answer to that question is yes, then this one is for you. This is 110% the Crossover AU I didn’t know I needed until now and I am THRILLED that it’s here. I don’t want to give away the premise (because when I got to the first little *insert* within the story I was like “OH HOLY HECK!!” so I don’t want to spoil it for anyone.) but let’s just say I cannot wait to see what happens next. I love all the details and the parallels to WW S1, and I am very much looking forward to seeing more of how these two casts of characters interact as these two incredibly fun universes combine.

Into the Shade Part I: You, The One I Left Behind by @brandyllyn

Ezra (Prospect) x Female Reader

Soulmates AU!!

WC: 3k

The warning for this one includes the fact that Ezra is not a very nice guy. And lemme tells ya: Can confirm. In fact, he is a con artist who specializes in romancing his targets and taking their bank accounts for a ride. Does this make me any less attracted to him? No, it does not - especially when, even though he’s been given a meaner streak here - he’s written so well from his movement to his dialogue. Does it make me even more attracted to him? Maybe, but that’s a topic for another post. This first part has got me so incredibly hooked. I love the concept of this soulmate AU - with pairs sharing identical markings and scars - and cannot wait to see how it unfolds... and if Ezra’s mean streak continues or if his current mark makes him go soft.

#three great things I read this week #writer wednesday #joel miller fic #jack whiskey daniels fic #ezra (prospect) fic #something tofightfor #prolix-yuy #brandyllyn #fic rec fic rec fic rec!

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kedsandtubesocks · 3 months

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cowboys like us

Bull Rider!Din Djarin x F!Reader x Bronco Rider!Jack Daniels

summary: one cowboy is already a challenge, but two is either going to be your best blessing or worst curse

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, modern rodeo cowboys AU, Din is still a papa and has his baby, light discussion of the rodeo and events, light angst & miscommunication with eventual resolution, Jack & his sweet talk with calling reader ‘baby, honey, sugar,” bar scene with moments of drinking, heavy making out, intense grinding & dry humping, spicy moments, M/M/F & M/M dynamics, polyamorous exploration that leads to eventual poly relationship

word count: 5.9k

a/n: welcome to the first fic of the ‘Let’s Rodeo’ series! I know, I know, this is such a strange combo & AU but I’m such a sucker for cowboy Din and of course Jack decided to barge in and here we are lol, the biggest and deepest thank you’s go to @perotovar @lowlights @nothoughtsjustmeds & @beskarandblasters - this wouldn’t be here without y’all and I’m so eternally grateful…and to you if you’re reading this thank you so much

You wonder if maybe you’ve unknowingly slipped into a strange country song and not realized it.

Popcorn litters the floor all around. The plastic arena seat is a bit uncomfortable. A drunk woman behind you almost spilled beer on you but apologized profusely. There are more cowboy hats here than you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

But as you sit in this strange existence a voice over the loudspeaker comes and sparks up your soul. As the announcer’s voice booms, loud screams swallow up the air of the stadium.

You spot him already climbing onto the bronco and your heart jumps into your throat.

“The man smooth as whiskey!” The announcer screams clear and booming with an accented southern pride.

“Give it up for Jack Daniels!”

Shrill shrieks erupt fanatically loud as if the place now morphes into a boy band concert instead of a rodeo competition.

That is until the alarm sounds. The chute opens, and the ride begins.

Focusing on Jack is chaotic. The bronco bucks frenzied trying to throw the cowboy off with a wild strength. His black Stetson hat goes flying and your stomach drops at how rapidly his body whips around. Back and forth, back and forth, he tries holding on with simply one hand.

It’s terrifying. It’s hypnotic.

Then it’s over fast.

The beautiful horse flings off Jack and he lands on the dirt. You clutch the edge of your plastic seat. The horse continues bucking and your mind rushes to the worst case scenario of the creature’s strong might rearing down on Jack.

Then the cowboy springs up like nothing.

A smile even illuminates his handsome face and it ignites the crowd into a gleeful roar.

You don’t even know if he did good. You barely understand the point system or average or whatever it is.

The horse thankfully settles and Jack struts away effortless.

Suddenly Jack’s salt of the earth eyes flick up. He scans the crowd until his gaze lands on you.

The seat you’re in sits close to the edge of the arena, on the floor just right outside the ring.

Then, with all the confidence of a man whose job it is to ride a bucking bronco, Jack blows you a kiss.

The drunk woman behind you along with her friends scream their heads off thinking he blew the kiss to them. Maybe he did. He’s a damn flirt. You even glance backward to see one of the girls, very drunk, tries to calm herself down from freaking out.

Jack now walks heads to the side to exit. His eyes however stay glued to you. And the minute you turn back to stare at him…he winks.

Then he vanishes.

This cowboy might be this event’s closer, but this isn’t the end of the rodeo for you. The incoming bull rides shift the air. It’s considered another heavy hitter main event and the anticipation bubbles.

Unlike Jack, who arrives like a firecracker ready to brighten up any room he enters, this cowboy emerges like a shadow.

Keeping his head down, it doesn’t help that a protective mask covers his handsome face. However, the energy radiating off the cowboy’s deadly focus composure is like a quiet storm on the horizon.

He stays silent, doesn’t even lift his eyes up, almost in a focused trance.

“Mr. Silent and Deadly himself… Din Djarin!” The announcers boom out his name.

Then you watch as the man becomes a myth, one who tames a wild force of nature.

Din and bull fly out of the chute with a choking force.

In the same way your breath stopped watching Jack getting bucked around, the same dizzying panic fills you as Din battles the same force.

He stubbornly stays on, rides as the bull thrashes around. You wonder if this is where some mythologies stem from because it is something unreal watching this man move with this powerful creature.

The crowd hoots and hollers cheering Din on. You stay petrified in your seat.

Then the ride finishes fast.

Din flies off the bull and your breathing stops. Rapidly the trainers along with other cowboys scramble to settle the bull and check on Din. The bull rider casually rises up unbothered, unshaken, and the crowd goes wild.

You exhale a loud shaken sigh of relief. Your body feels like jello, as if fear has finally been exorcized from your body leaving you a boneless mess.

Suddenly Din rips the guard mask off and all attention falls to him. Sweat adds a shine to his face and his hair is a tousled mess but he’s never looked more gorgeous.

“What the fuck?! Dude, he’s hot too?!” Someone squawks out.

The ladies sitting behind you of course notice Din and squeal out feverishly. Unlike Jack, an actual peacock who owns the crowd basking in the attention, Din’s face stays lowered with his eyes averted shyly.

Until his dark eyes suddenly flicker up, like a viper peering out from a cave. His eyes find you surprisingly fast.

You and him simply stare at each other. Then so quickly Din averts his eyes away again and heads off.

The shakiest exhale leaves you.

Your heartbeat drums loud in your ears as if you were the one who just finished the wild rides. And maybe you did in your own way.

“Oh my fucking god!” Behind you one of the girls screams. “So many hot cowboys! Like, how the fuck do you pick just one?!”

Alcohol drenches her playful words. However, to you they become barbed and catch on your heart. Because how do you pick between two handsome cowboys different as day and night.

“Babe!” One of the girls giggles. “That’s the secret, you don’t pick just one! You have ‘em all!”

She howls a wild laugh and the others scream scandalized but gleeful. One of them even jokingly says ‘so you gotta catch ‘em all like pokemon!’ which almost makes you laugh.

But the words hang in your heart like a rusting anchor.

Grabbing your bag, you head out. Arriving at the backstage area of the arena, you flash the visitor’s access pass to security who lets you through. You’ve only done this a few times before but your heart still races getting this type of entrance.

Earlier today Din said he’d wait for you after in the small rest waiting room. When you open the door, you stumble upon a sight.

Jack's hand firmly holding Din’s face -

As the two men passionately kiss each other.

Jack’s taller than Din, slightly, not by much. Din’s build however is firmer, solid, compared to Jack’s sleek stature.

Immediately they both break away from each other as if electrocuted.

Din and Jack’s eyes catch sight of you and their faces fall. Din whispers your name out while Jack stays silent.

Reality rams into you like a released wild bull.

Because you realize you’ve interrupted them. You're barging in, an actual third wheel.

You want to move, want to say something. But you can’t even imagine what. It clicks that you read this whole situation wrong. Maybe neither of them actually held feelings for you.

A sudden loud knock on the wall makes you and the cowboys practically jump.

One of the event announcers pops his head in casually.

“Hey sorry, but you’re needed out back Djarin.” He says to Din then leaves.

Even with the surprise arrival and then departure, the thick tension doesn’t leave the air. If anything it’s caused a strange vacuum to form.

Jack now breathes out your name hesitantly. Yet, his eyebrows are furrowed hard, concerned and upset. Din’s dark eyes shine so visibly soaked with worry.

Before you can even say anything one of Jack’s main coaches and manager, Champ, waltzes in. He’s a striking presence that draws all the focuses to him

Champ whistles loud. “Who died in here?”

No one says a word.

“Alrighty then,” Champ shrugs, not wanting to dive into whatever he senses.

“Daniels come on,” he urges. “I ain’t waiting anymore. They’re probably waiting for you too Dinny.”

Champ’s nickname for Din, which Din himself detests, makes you smirk and brightens your spirit for a moment.

But the awful tension stays sticking to your skin allowing a poison to seep in.

“Hey there, sweet pea.” Champ nods his head acknowledging you. With a weak smile you nod back.

You politely excuse yourself and leave.

The walk out of the arena is the longest of your life.

Everything you just saw flashes through your mind a rapid flip picture book. You can process what you saw but can’t fully grasp it.

Even outside, the roar of the rodeo swirls around even in you.

You might have wandered into a country song earlier but you didn’t realize it was going to be a heartbreak one.

You met Din first in a grocery store parking lot.

It had been a total accident. Literally. You had gotten into a small fender bender with him in the parking lot of a grocery store.

He drove the oldest silver Honda Civic ever still existing and still can’t believe it didn’t even manage to take a hit. You were also horrified when you saw there was a baby sleeping away in the car.

Yet the entire time Din was so kind and concerned about your wellbeing.

You didn’t realize it then, but that shy and very handsome scruffy man with his ancient Honda Civic would change the orbit of your life.

Because that day you accidentally collided with a cowboy, it opened your world like a vast desert horizon.

Jack arrived soon after.

If Din was the soft daybreak, then Jack came in like a dust devil.

Though they competed in two different categories, you discovered many rodeo circuits crossed paths.

When you went to visit Din months ago at the ranch housing many of the cowboys for training, that’s when you first met Jack.

He walked straight up to you and asked if you were lost because he was concerned heaven was missing an angel.

He hasn’t shut his mouth since.

Before it was simply you and Din. But Jack is a force that seems to barge his way in like the wild broncos he rode.

He is shameless in flirting. He often playfully touches yours and Din’s cheeks often, or casually drapes himself over you or his fellow cowboy.

Din on the other hand is quietly sweet. He routinely sends you photos of the sunrises of all the cities he travels to.

So opposite, they almost are like the sun and moon.

You began caring for them fiercely and fell so fast.

But now, you contemplate if you simply played yourself a fool becoming your own rodeo clown.

All the ideas, all the heavy conflict of having to pick between the two of them, taste bitter on your tongue. You take a long swing of your drink to hopefully wash it away. It doesn’t.

Din texted you asking to please meet him here at this bar near the secondary training arena and now you wait.

It’s lively tonight. Even after being thrown into the world of cowboys, or rodeo circuits, sitting in the honky tonk bar feels as if you’re on another planet. The music thankfully has a nice beat so you enjoy the song playing.

Someone slides in besides you, not even sitting on the bar stool.

“You seem lonely.” The voice of a stranger.

Besides you, a lanky college freshman looking guy leans against the bar staring at you.

“Just waiting for a friend.” You politely answer.

“Well, maybe you’d like some company waiting?”

You’re about to decline when a looming presence arrives at your back.

“Sorry there buckaroo, but this lovely peach is taken for the night.”

Jack’s smooth voice rings out and shocks your system.

The stranger’s face drops comedically fast and the punk scrambles away without another word.

You turn around and it isn't just Jack behind you but Din is as well.

Jack wears his black cowboy hat and you’re surprised to see Din in one as well. He rarely wears his Stetson but it transforms him.

In typical western, the dark midnight cowboy hats are that of the outlaws, the bandits. One of Din’s managers, an older man named Cobb Vanth, once told you that.

And maybe these two are.

Yet, even as bandits, they stand before you like two country romance song dreams. The kaleidoscopic lights dance and radiate off them.

Din mutters your name with hesitation swirling in his eyes.

Panic prickles against your skin. You’re not ready yet.

So you turn to the bartender and order three rounds.

“Honeypie, we gotta talk.” Jack says low, strikingly somber.

Shaking your head, you swallow hard. “Not now. I just…can we just please…just wait for a moment.”

Please let’s just enjoy this false dream a little longer, is what your heart whispers out.

“Of course.” Din mutters and they both move to sit on either side of you, a sort of barricade you’re already missing.

The drinks come and in a nervous quiet move you and the cowboys cling your glasses together. Everyone tosses the shot back. The tequila burns and helps slightly.

You decide if this a goodbye to this dream, you want to at least enjoy it a bit tipsy. So you order another round.

“Careful.” Din urges, ever the cautious one.

“Come on.” You now perk up. “You two both scored high yesterday! We gotta celebrate.”

Which is true. Even with your brewing heartbreak, you still got excited seeing their scores from the app alert. Because that’s the person you’ve become. You have apps on your phone dedicated to rodeo cowboy scores. Well, you might be deleting those apps soon.

You move to take the next shot.

You raise your glass to your two dear cowboys - the ones who you text everyday, the ones you try facetiming as much as you can, your dearest friends.

And maybe that’s all they will be.

You toast to their scores and to them.

Din’s eyes hold a pained shine in them that makes your heart twist. Jack instead wears a rather terrifying steeled up composed face.

You feel empty taking this shot and only Jack throws his back with you. Din even doesn’t touch his drink.

This time the tequila goes down warm and numbing.

The alcohol begins to work its confidence magic in you as you tease Din for not wanting to drink with you. He however glares at you and you’re reminded of an unwavering mesquite tree.

Maybe this is a bad decision.

You can’t be selfish about this. These two found each other. All those moments you thought they had feelings you simply had read the situation wrong.

“Look,” you sigh now, deflated. “I’m sorry-”

Jack suddenly smacks his hand against the bar countertop. It’s aggressively firm, a loud startling whack of a noise.

“Dancin’.” Jack declares loudly. “We’re gonna dance.”

“What? You and him?” You ask over the music.

“No.” Jack snaps. “We’re all goin’. So get your asses up.”

Din scoffs.

Jack, with firm hands yanking on yours and Din’s sleeves, actually drags everyone to the dance floor.

You can’t comprehend what’s happening. The floor is heavily crowded and no one notices three more additions.

“I don’t dance.”

“I can’t dance.”

Both you and Din fling out the same hurried replies to Jack.

He barks a laugh.

“It ain’t about being good at dancin’. S’about feelin’ the music, feelin’ the beat.” He yells back and then instantly transforms into a commanding force.

Sliding behind you, Jack turns you around to face Din.

His and your eyes go wide.

Jack then reaches to yank at Din’s dusty jacket, effectively pulling him forward -

Straight to your front.

Your heart hammers loud in your ears, so loud it drowns out the music blaring.

“Relax.” Jack purrs out. “Just…feel.”

You want to bark back about how that’s easier said than done. But your tongue gets tied up so badly you can’t form words.

Then one of Jack’s solid hands moves to your hips while the other reaches across to rest against Din’s shoulder.

You’re locked into them.

Jack begins to move you slowly.

The music shifts into something sultry, almost aching to be a slow dance, but a lively beat keeps it moving. You didn’t even think country songs could have this kind of vibe. Even though Jack mainly guides your hips, you already start swaying to the beat on your own.

That’s when Jack slowly bumps and nudges his hip against yours, fully pressing you closer to Din.

The position isn’t lost on you. It’s undeniably intimate, overly sexual, and you’re worried how this looks to others in the bar.

Then Din presses forward firmer against you and your mind blanks for a moment. Now sandwiched between a cowboy canyon, a dangerous heat burst from your chest.

Jack moves his nose against your face.

“Relax gorgeous,” he whispers. “Just enjoy.”

Your eyes hazing over flicker to Din who stares out with a deep desire swimming in his eyes. Cautiously his hands now move to rest on your hips. One of them goes on top of Jack’s.

You swallow hard and pray the lingering liquid courage will bless you.

Deliberately, sensually, your hips wiggle and grind between the two of them. You might not be properly dancing right or even swaying to the beat, but desire is the one guiding your body.

Many times nights alone in your bed you've thought of them like this with you. And now, you’re here caught in the sticky heart of that passionate desire.

Din dives forward and presses his face against yours.

Jack groans as his nose buries into your hair. Their cowboy hats create a sort of cover over you casting a shade against the glittering bar lights.

You’re literally under their shadow.

“Oh baby.” Jack whimpers.

Your hands, which you awkwardly kept close to your chest almost afraid to touch this dream and have it pop like a soap bubble, now tingle. You want to touch them both as much as you can.

So one of your hands slides up to hold onto Jack’s face while your other runs up Din’s broad chest to his shoulder. Your hips continue to sway and grind between them.

Then, like a spark ignited, something shifts.

Maybe it’s more people crowding in on the dance floor, or the heat finally bubbling over, but you’re suddenly squished firmly between them, practically glued together. Din’s face, his striking nose, presses against yours while Jack burrows the side of his face against your cheek.

They purposely rut into you. You think this is maybe the closest taste of what it would feel like for them to fuck you and you drown in it.

With Din and Jack, both hard, grinding against your front and back, your eyes close. A debauched sensation sinks its claws into you. It’s sinful and utterly deliriously delicious. You worry you’re about to melt.

Lust rips through you, an incinerating beast, and you bow to it.

In that haze, Din leans down and licks the sweat on your neck. His tongue against your skin, electrifies you. You ascend out of your body and moan.

Your body bucks up hard begging for attention and release only to find you’re still firmly caught between a cowboy canyon.

Jack shushes you firm but low. “G’damn y’all ‘re gonna be the death of me.”

His voice slurs, almost sounded drunk in something dangerous. Din continues licking at your neck not stopping once.

Suddenly Jack moves and shifts your body. The jostling breaks the movement and snaps you aware, like you’re slowly waking up, wearily trying to recapture your focus.

Quickly he snags your hand and Din’s. Out of reflex you clutch onto Din’s jacket. Jack, now a focused man on a mission, guides the three of you out of the crowd.

“Where are we going?” Din mutters against your face.

“Don’t know.” You answer truthfully.

You can’t tell where Jack guides you. The haze still fogging up your focus keeps you surprisingly pliant. It also doesn’t help that Din now practically drapes himself against your back, a protective cowboy like cloak. His lips continue to softly try and kiss any inch of skin he can reach.

You never thought he’d be the greedier one.

Jack guides everyone down a hallway past the restrooms. He even shouts a friendly greeting at someone. Of course he would know people here.

“Get your asses in here.” Jack now growls and his accent seems stronger.

That’s where he opens a door to a small back office type room and barrels everyone inside.

Jack’s not gentle. He almost yanks everyone in like a panicking kid trying to hide something from their parents. The door slams behind him. You’re transported into a badly lit mess of an office.

Jack whips around, pitches forward and before you can react he moves to attack your neck alongside Din.

His tongue licks a possessive strip up to your jaw then starts biting at your skin.

A wild moan escapes you as your eyes blissfully close.

You’re burning up. Your body, now molten, is only held up by your cowboys pressing flat against you. Both Jack’s mustache and Din’s faint beard scrape against your skin beautifully. Two tongues maping out your skin makes your mind evaporate. Every inch of your body screams for them.

That’s when you feel Jack drag his tongue on your neck down towards Din.

With another playful nip at your skin, Jack moves to lick against Din’s mouth still on you.

The wildest moan escapes you and you almost come right then.

Both cowboys almost kiss each other while also trying to still taste at your neck has you absolutely dizzy.

It’s hot and consumes every inch of you. You’re panting ridiculously loud and you can’t even hold back your whines or whimpers anymore. Slick pools between your thighs and sticks to your body. Your neck feels just as wet with the spit covering your skin.

Suddenly a loud aggressive bang rattles the door and your perfect illusion pops.

Panic barrels into you like a wild bull and your eyes go wide.

But your cowboys react fast. Din protectively curls his sturdy arm over you and draws you closer. Jack whips around and stands protectively in front as if to block the view.

Thankfully no one opens the door.

“Ya better not be fuckin’ on my god damn couch, Daniels!” A man howls with laughter.

“No fuckin’ way in hell.” Jack hollers back. “Not when your nasty ol’ ass calls its home.”

From the other side of the door the owner of this room laughs electrically loud. The man smacks on the door twice, an almost playfully goodbye.

The blazing heat that was melting you now simmers out like a fast dying out ember. An awkwardness settles in its place.

Your mind sorts through the heavy doubts again. Were you just a toy for them to play with? And even though a more aggressive side urges you to just enjoy and not think more into this, you don't want to be seen as just an accessory to their duo.

So slowly and quietly you untangle yourself from them.

Din mutters your name slightly confused and Jack turns around looking towards you.

“Where ya headin’ out to, peach?” Jack asks surprisingly composed.

You quietly tell them you’re gonna head home. A thick tension returns, choking the room.

Din calls your name, solid and striking.

“We need to talk.” His words are firm.

You want to make a sarcastic quip that they weren’t much for talking a few moments ago. But you don’t. You want to go home, maybe wash your skin off till you reach bone. You want to wash them away because it’s sinking in.

This last taste of desire is maybe your goodbye.

“Now why ya gotta make it sound like we’re talkin’ about a goddamn funeral, darlin’?!” Jack huffs annoyed.

Din shoots him a sharp annoyed look.

Darlin’

You’ve never heard Jack call his fellow cowboy that.

His nicknames for Din ranged from ‘pigeon’ to ‘sourpuss’ all were affectionately teasing in nature. Now the tender pet name holds the unspoken truth, as if seeing them kissing didn’t solidify it earlier.

“I’m sorry, I just…I read this wrong…” your voice becomes small and deflated. You would head home with a broken pride, but you didn’t want to be bitter about this.

Your eyes flicker up to them.

“You two… I’m glad you both found each other.” You smile weakly, the strongest attempt at being honorable and good. Yet the words turn to ash on your tongue.

You promise you’ll text them when you get home and now turn to leave again.

“The fuck s’that all about?” Jack snarls and his words snap your spine straight.

“Jack.” Din chides him sharp and your attention whips back to them a bit panicked.

Anger, along with the faintest edge of annoyance, colors Jack’s handsome face as he glares at you.

Your face scrunches up confused. What is he so upset about?

“The three of us were practically just humping like fuckin’ barn animals in heat and you wanna say shit like that?” A hot flash runs in Jack’s eye and you swear he even sounds hurt.

“Don’t say it like that.” Din glares.

Your eyes flicker between them and an edge of panic starts crawling on your skin.

“Wait, what?” You mutter out confused.

Silence suffocates the room and it feels like you’ve entered into a classic western standoff waiting to see who will strike first.

“Oh baby,” Jack’s gentle exhale shatters the moment as his eyes stare so directly at you. “Ya haven’t realized it?”

“What?” You squeak out confused.

“We’re crazy for ya… like a bunch of fools tangled up in a damn lasso.”

Jack’s words ignite a flurry of sparks within your chest that knock you breathless.

Turning towards Din, you notice his Stetson hat slid off, possibly during the heat of the moment earlier. But it allows you the clearest view of his gruff face and you think he’s never looked younger. His face is open. Hesitation and worry linger in Din’s dark road eyes reminding you of how secretly tender hearted this cowboy is.

Then Din nods so slowly, agreeing.

You almost choke on an inhale.

The sudden thought of picking between them has a fanged spike of anxiety rushing through you.

You didn’t want to pick. But, were you being selfish because of that?

Sensing your hesitation, or catching whatever emotions now flood your face, both cowboys now hesitantly move towards you.

“Talk to us, please.” Din softly urges.

Your voice cracks, tripping on itself annoyingly conflicted. But you manage to cough out that you don’t think you can pick between them. You don’t think you ever could and you’re worried your heart might not even handle it.

“Oh sweet baby,” Jack breathes out.

Suddenly the back of his hand tenderly strokes your cheek. Din gently glides his hand to your back and softly rubs you soothingly.

Your heart jumps into your throat at their sudden shift in affections.

“You don’t have to worry…or pick.” Din explains softly and with comfort.

Wait.

“You both…” you exhale shakily. “You two want me? Want us?”

For some reason, the notion of ‘us’ strikes you right then and there. That idea of you and them becoming an ‘us’ feels like the most natural progression in your mind.

Your best friend, when you told her about you and these cowboys, had cautiously asked if there was maybe a possibility of a poly type relationship happening. You immediately shot her down, not even wanting to think of the option.

But if you had been honest, a part of you started feeling guilty at the thought of wanting that. You enjoyed spending time with Jack just as much as Din. And you enjoyed spending time with them together.

Now you stand on the new ground of something beautiful waiting for you to step into.

“Sweetheart, hate to break it to ya…but we’ve been an us even before our dumbasses even realized it.” Jack snorts.

Din rolls his eyes and you snicker. But Jack is right.

Tentative date-like nights included Jack joining. Jack constantly invited both you and Din to his ridiculously lavish RV he used for the rodeo road trip days. That eventually led to days where you and Jack waited together for Din to finish. Or Din and you watching Jack practice. Din even began bringing his adoptive son over and Jack took to the baby like a fish to water.

This path you unknowingly had been on now is about to be crystalized before you and it warms every bit of your soul.

But a sharp fanged doubt suddenly gnaws at you.

“Wait,” your voice wavers. “This…this isn’t the alcohol talking right?”

Din sighs, shaking his head no but Jack answers first.

“‘Fraid not gorgeous. Been wanting this for a while.”

All worries get snipped and float out of your body leaving you so limitless.

Din leans to draw you into his side embrace and burrows his face against you.

“Sorry we didn’t discuss this sooner.” He mutters. “It all just…kind of happened.”

You understand and lean back against him. Din exhales shaky, soaked in a relief you can almost feel in your bones.

“Now, now, you two angels can’t go leavin’ out ‘ol Jack.” Of course Jack chimes in.

“Maybe it’s time we rethink this.” Din dryly comments and you laugh when Jack squawks out like a disgruntled crow.

But he effortlessly manages to borrow against both you and Din. It’s a little cluster, a soft clanging of bodies, but it’s cozy and feels right.

Someone yells outside the door laughing and your heart jumps.

“Whose office are we even in?” Din mutters out.

“Jimmy’s. Well technically mine too since I own the bar with him.” Jack casually drops.

Of course he did.

“And as cozy as it is here,” Jack adds gently. Both of their hands now intertwine against your hip.

“I say we move this little party somewhere nicer, like let’s say…my trailer?” Jack offers.

His RV is nice. Din’s is very spartan compared to Jack’s that had a full king sized bed and jacuzzi.

They truly are your sun and moon, so opposite and yet so beautifully brightening up your sky. A beautiful buoyant bliss fills you knowing you’re in their orbit, just as much as they’re in yours.

Din’s baby boy is a fidgety one. While he enjoys running around, he also loves to watch the world form anyone’s welcoming arms.

Which at the moment happens to be yours.

The baby chews happily on his favorite adorable stuffed longhorn plushie while the two of you enjoy the peace of the arena.

Without the noise, the yells and commotion of the crowd, or the sea of cowboy hats, the arena is strangely quiet, almost church-like in its own way. You understand now how it can even inspire a deep devotion.

After all, you see it through the eyes of two cowboys.

The baby happily shrieks and begins twisting in your arms. You turn to see what’s gotten his attention.

“Why howdy there my lil’ tumbleweed!” Jack warmly cries out and without hesitation scoops the sweet little boy into his arms.

The baby squeals in delight as Jack peppers him with kisses. Your heart melts at the sight.

“Don’t worry, didn’t forget about you too darlin’.” Jack winks and leans to kiss you soft now.

His mustache tickles your lips and you smirk. He also playfully and lightly smacks your bottom. You shoot him a look while Jack innocently shrugs.

“Our cowboy come out yet?” He asks.

You shake your head. Not yet. Din being ever the respectful man he is, allowed the others to use the practice bull first and took the last slot available for the practice times.

However, his team and the others arrive just as fast. Din steps out, the true silent assassin he’s regarded as. He’s memorizing to watch, so deeply focused and intense.

The baby now whines at being held and demands to be put down.

“Don’t worry I’ll watch him, you watch Din.” You reassure Jack while he places baby boy on his feet. The baby immediately waddles away, absolutely giddy to be free.

“Lil’ stinker.” Jack affectionately teases with adoration shining in his eyes.

Your eyes now watch the curious little babe you treasure so dearly. Behind you though, the training starts.

The clang of the chute being prepared and the commotion of the team getting ready fills the arena.

Then the alarm blares. The loud noise has the baby jolting in surprise. Before he can cry at the sudden noise, you quickly scurry over and swoop him back in your arms. You playfully press a loud raspberry against his sweet chubby cheeks and he giggles.

The noise of the ride erupts with the thrashing of the bull and the upheaval of the dirt.

Then, it’s all over.

“Attaboy!” Jack cries with a loud proud clap.

The baby, now fully distracted by the commotion, seems happy in your arms again as you approach Jack’s side.

Quickly your gaze goes to the arena to make sure Din’s alright.

“How did he do?” You ask about Din.

“Better! Still ain’t as good as yesterday's time but rides like these just help keep ya warm and flexible.” Jack explains.

With the bull settled, Din moves towards Vanth to discuss the ride.

Din draws his helmet up and already has so much sweat on his face. It’s unfair how handsome he is, rugged and adorably scruffy.

“Bweh!” The baby happily spots his papa and squeaks.

The noise causes all in the ring to turn towards where you three stand. Cobb Vanth grins kindly and Din’s eyes soften immediately spotting your little cheering group.

“Yeah lil cowpoke, you didn’t get to see how good your papa was, but he did great.” Jack coo’s as he softly smooths out the baby’s hair.

With a pat on the back from his manager, Din jogs over to you and Jack.

It’s unique, this new carved out existence of yours with them. But it’s beautiful and feels as if it’s always meant to be, like this has been in your veins long before you even knew.

Din reaches the edge of the ring and you and Jack shower him with praise. It’s adorable watching him get flustered at all the attention given to him, especially when you lean and Jack lean to kiss his cheeks.

“Seems like your ridin’s was a little rusty today though, cowboy.” Jack purrs. “Maybe we should all have a nice private lesson after this.”

“Hope those lessons aren’t with you. Last time you were out by the second count.” Din, like the surprisingly snarky man he is, effortlessly replies back as snatches the baby wiggling trying to for him.

Jack squawks hilariously upset and you snicker as your heart fills to the brim.

The arena is quiet, a sacred space that watches over all of you together like this. And it’s special, having this moment here with both of them.

You think there might not be many country songs about snagging two cowboys, but it’s okay.

You find this song in your heart feels eternal.

#omg first fic of the series AHHH and if you’re reading this know I’m seating you front row to this rodeo thank you forever #let’s rodeo fic series #cowboy din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x reader #Din Djarin x Reader x Jack Daniels #din djarin x you #Jack 🤎#Din 🩶#cowboys like us tag

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anabdaniels · 23 days

Text

Rodeo prizes

Paring: Joel Miller x Female reader x Agent Whiskey

Summary: After meet Jack and Joel, you couldn't resist the idea of get into their bed.

Word counting: 1.6k

Rating: +18

Warnings: Oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, double penetration, p in v sex, anal sex, face sitting, slight voyeurism, aftercare.

A/N: I don't even know what to say about this one. Highly inspired by the masterpiece written by @cerridwen007.

Divider from: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

You never thought a simple tour on the rodeo could get so out of hand.

Yet, there you were, sitting on Jack’s face while he was eating you out and having Joel’s hand wrapped in your hair as you moaned with your mouth full of his cock.

Yes, definitely not a common Saturday night.

You started to flirt with both of them just for fun, but at some point, you were fully conscious that if any of them wanted to take you to their bed, you would say yes without flinching. You just weren’t expecting the proposal to involve both of them at the same time, and you expected even less your positive answer.

Any hesitant thoughts you could have vanished once both of them had their hands all over you, making you realize that their rough exterior had been completely undone while they showered you with kisses and praises, letting you free to put your dubious fantasies into practice. The last one was the reason why you ended up kneeling on the mattress with Joel standing next to the bed with his cock weighing on your tongue while your rationality was extinguished at each move of Jack’s mouth on your soaked cunt.

You were for sure loving every crumb of that, bucking your hips back and forth without even realize as you eagerly sucked and savored every inch of Joel you could, one hand resting on his stomach while the other squeezed the hand Jack had resting on one of your thighs.

As the knot in your lower stomach grew, you knew you would have to throw the towel; the soft scratches on your scalp and tugs on your hair Joel was providing you with along with the hoarse moans coming from him and Jack weren’t doing any favor to your self-control, so you didn’t try to keep it, letting go of the cock on your mouth, you rested your forehead on Joel’s stomach while you sank your nails on Jack’s wrist, rubbing yourself against his face, crying out when his nose nudged your clit, sending your over the edge, making you wet all over his face and start to melt, being promptly grabbed by Joel.

“She’s so responsive, isn’t she?” Joel’s voice came out husky as he petted your head.

“And tastes like heaven.” Jack’s voice came from behind you and you sighed when he planted a kiss on your shoulder, his lips and mustache still moist with your juices. You remained still for a moment as you enjoyed your laziness post-orgasm, biting your bottom lip as you felt both of the men soothingly caressing your skin.

Sitting on his heels, Jack pulled you to his lap, biting your nape and caressing your hips, resulting in you squirming and sighing with Jack’s throbbing erection pressing against your buttcheek. You were about to tilt your head, but Joel grabbed your jaw, making you look at him, causing your whole body to feel like your skin was burning. You squealed and sank your nails into Jack’s thigh as you felt his hard length sliding between your buttocks, slowly stretching your tight hole, making you give up and let your eyelids fall as your eyes rolled back. Jack smirked as you melted on his lap, wrapping one arm around your waist and softly nibbling your shoulder with one hand sinking in your hair. Unquestioningly you were about to turn into a puddle, what didn’t get better as Joel’s warm chest touched your torso, already convincing you that being the middle part of that sandwich was for sure a life-changing experience.

Needing an enormous effort, you opened your eyes to watch Joel effortlessly sinking his cock into your dripping cunt, taking a loud moan out of you; if you ever got told that someday you would be squashed between two southern cowboys, you would have laughed out of pure disbelief, but being living that situation, you started to ask yourself why took you so long to give it a try. You knew that every possible inch of you was filled by both of them and you couldn’t be more satisfied by it.

Jack occupied himself with kissing and nibbling the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulder as his hands moved to the front of your body, groping your breasts and rubbing your hardened sensitive nipples, causing you to whimper and melt under his touch. Savoring every detail of the beautiful view of you being all cockdrunk, Joel kept his gaze glued on every little part of your body, letting his calloused hands squeeze your soft stomach and caress your hips, smirking at the little squeal you let out as both he and Jack began to move more intensively.

“Y’such a precious lil’ thing, sugar.” Jack teased and nibbled your earlobe, making sure to let out a heavy breath against your ear. You were just about to turn your head to look at him while still processing his words, but Joel grabbed your jaw before you could do it, making you look into his eyes.

“For sure an unfairly pretty doll.” Joel praised while caressing under your chin, then leaned to kiss you, ruining the little crumbs of breath you still had, taking a deep sigh of you when his gray beard softly scratched your face. When Joel leaned back and broke the kiss, you inhaled slowly to catch your breath, but Jack didn’t give you the chance, turning your head gently and kissing you hungrily while wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you steady as he increased his pace once again. You could only whimper while your hand rested on his arm, scratching his skin hard.

As he felt your throbbing cunt squeezing his cock, Joel leaned to savor your slightly sweat skin, trailing kisses from your neck to between your breasts, then moving to softly suck one of your nipples. You contorted abruptly with that, making both of the men groan with the sudden motion of your hips. Needing to catch your breath, you had to break the kiss, leaning your head back and resting your nape on Jack’s shoulder as one of your hands sank into Joel’s hair.

The much you knew your body, you were aware that that knot on your lower stomach wasn’t being caused by the soft nudges of Joel’s cock against your cervix or because Jack was balls-deep sinking into your ass, but the result of their unstoppable attempts to send you over the edge, especially when they were way too good at doing it. You tried to say something between your gasps and moans, but all that came out was an incomprehensible mumble.

“What’s the matter, sugar?” Jack questioned while gently kissing your cheek.

“I’m… I’m c-” You were once more interrupted by your whimper as your hips moved involuntarily again.

“We know, darlin’.” He whispered against your temple with his mustache softly scratching your skin.

You got the last straw as Joel softly brushed his teeth against your nipple, letting yourself go, squeezing their cocks hard as your whole body started having small spasms and, even though you had two handsome men to look at, you couldn’t do more than close your eyes hard, feeling every muscle of your body tensing up before you got slightly boneless with that almost overwhelming orgasm.

Your non-stopping moving and whimpering made Jack throw his composure out of the window, sinking his face into the curve of your neck, moaning against your skin as he emptied every drop of his cum inside you, causing you to arch your back and bite your bottom lip. Mesmerized by the delicious scene of both of you falling apart, Joel couldn’t do any better than join the moment, biting the other side of your neck and letting his face rest there as his hands grabbed your hips tight enough to leave a soft bruise, keeping you steady as his thrusts became erratic and he filled your pulsing cunt.

You didn’t bother to try to move, feeling completely boneless and drained. After a while, you realized that somehow you ended up on Joel’s lap with him soothingly caressing your back and kissing the top of your head. No much later you felt Jack gently spreading your legs and carefully cleaning you with a fresh towel that felt like a caress on your hipper sensitive skin.

Once you were clean, you moaned lazily as Joel made you sit straight on his lap and you needed a moment to process that what was placed on your hands was a glass of water. You drank every drop from that glass, just then realizing how exhausted you felt.

With too much delicacy for someone with that constant grumpy face, Joel settled you on your side on the bed and spooned you without second thoughts. After turning off the light, Jack joined the two of you on the bed, also holding you and kissing your head when you tucked your face against his chest.

“Can I ask something?” your voice came out quietly.

“Of course, darlin’.” Jack answered in the same tone and Joel just nodded lazily behind you.

“Do you guys have any plans for tomorrow?” you couldn’t help a smile as both of them chuckled.

“What a greedy lil’ lady.” Jack finished his statement with a kiss on your temple.

“Don’t worry, honey. We wouldn’t dare choose any plan over you.” Joel confirmed and kissed your nape, nuzzling his face against your skin.

Tagging: @missladym1981

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #Kingsman: the golden circle #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #tlou #pedrostories

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palioom · 8 months

Text

bull ride

summary: out at a bar, jack watches you ride a mechanical bull and he can't wait to go home so you can ride the real thing.

pairing: jack “whiskey” daniels x f!reader word count: 2.0k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames); some swearing; dirty talk; unprotected p in v; public sex (kinda); spanking; jack being lowkey cringe

• masterlist •

This had been supposed to be just a nice little evening out at the bar in town. Just a few drinks, some food and each other's company.

What Jack hadn’t expected to happen was to watch his girl ride a mechanical bull while he had the hardest boner of his life. He hadn’t known that the bar had installed one of these things recently and he also hadn’t known that she was quite good at riding it.

Though he did know she was quite good at riding other things.

Jack watched her from his place at their table, sipping his whiskey as she was thrown back and forth, almost effortlessly moving with the mechanical beast. A laugh on her face the whole time, he swore she gave him a nasty little look whenever she faced him again, paired with a wink.

A wink that only made his dick throb harder.

Adjusting himself in his jeans, he stared at her bouncing breasts without any shame, a small hiss leaving him as he imagined her riding him like this. Moving back before she slid to the front again, pretending to wave a cowboy hat around with a loud laugh while the people around her cheered her on.

What a goddamn sight that was for his old cowboy heart. Seeing his girl ride a damn metal bull was as close as he’d ever get to see her ride the real thing.

She lasted an impressively long time, almost a minute long before she eventually got thrown off. Giggling and laughing all the while, her hair tousled and her face red when she came back to him. Adjusting her clothes as she walked.

And knowing immediately that he was horny as hell as she sat down opposite of him, the biggest grin on her face.

What a teasing little thing she was.

“I kinda wanna go again.” She said, sipping her own drink. The twinkle in her eye was playul, letting his blood boil hot.

“I know a different bull you can ride at home, sugar.” Jack replied with a wide grin, his dark mustache stretched wide over his white teeth. He shifted in place, his cock uncomfortably straining against the zipper of his jeans. “That one’s gonna be even more fun.”

A grin that matched his spread on her features, emptying the last of her drink while waving someone over to pay.

They had barely made it a quarter of the way home when he had to pull over, grabbing her by the chin to pull her into a hungry kiss, his fingers digging into her skin. Her hand reached out to palm him through his jeans, a low groan escaping him and tumbling right into her mouth.

He reluctantly pulled back, only to motion for her to get out and get into the truck bed of the Bronco. Needing her on his dick right now, riding him like she had that damn bull. The image still flickered in front of his eyes, the way she moved on that thing, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

“Wanted to be a cowgirl too, huh?” Jack asked, when he sat down at the edge of the truck bed, his hands on her waist pulling her closer. Their lips met again, his tongue slipping into her mouth while her arms snaked around the back of his neck, almost knocking his hat off of him.

“Maybe.” She giggled in between kisses, feeling his hands move under the hem of her shirt, his fingertips ghosting over her hot skin.

Who would have known this would get him so hot and bothered? Just by holding onto that thing like her damn life had depended on it.

Well, in a way she definitely had known. It was one of the reasons she had suggested this bar over the other ones they frequented.

“Let’s see how long you can last on this bull, pretty cowgirl.”

His hands moved to her jeans, working the button open before pulling down the zipper. Thank fuck it was summer, Jack really couldn’t have waited all the way home if it was any colder than right now.

Her pussy was already wet when he let his hand wander into her pants, rubbing over the slick, wet spot that had formed on her panties. She whimpered against his lips, breaking from him to look down at where his hand vanished, finding her clit through her underwear and pressing against it with one thick finger.

Languid movements, chuckling at how her breath hitched in her throat and her hips bucked into his touch. Rubbing over it again and again, enjoying the sweet sounds that left her, gasping and moaning, her feet shuffling apart.

“Jack, please.” She moaned, her lips finding his again in a sloppy kiss, her hands cupping his cheeks. “Don’t tease me, please, baby.”

His finger pressed down harder before he moved his hand back, biting her lip when she whined in protest. Going from cocky to putty in his hands so quickly.

Such a sweet thing, helping him take off her pants, her own hands palming his hard cock, making him groan.

“You’ve been teasin’ me the whole time you were on that damn thing.” He said, yanking her underwear down her legs while she continued kissing him. “C’mon, darlin’, you know this bull needs that cowgirl to ride him.”

A giggle left her, helping him to quickly work open his pants and move them down far enough over his ass that his cock sprang free. Hard and angry, in some desperate need for attention.

Jack hoisted her up, her legs straddling his narrow hips. He really didn’t care that they were on the side of the road and any passing car could see them do this, they were practically in the middle of nowhere anyways.

Taking his hat off of his head, he placed it on hers with a smirk, his hand finding her hips again and squeezing the warm flesh hard. How pretty she looked like this, watching her take his cock in hand to line herself up with him before she slowly sank down.

A guttural sound left her, enjoying the way he stretched her open more and more with every inch, until she sat in his lap.

“Atta girl, lookin’ so pretty takin’ my dick.” He chuckled, giving her ass a sharp smack which made her gasp. “C’mon, show me up close how you rode that thing.”

As she started to move, bouncing in his lap while bracing herself on his broad chest, he leaned back onto his elbows, enjoying the show. Mesmerized by how his dick vanished inside of her tight pussy over and over again, glistening in the low lights.

It made it hard to not just cum instantly, her perfect tits jiggling with every movement, her head thrown back. All while she kept making those noises, unabashed and loud in the silence of the night.

“Oh, fuck, Jack.” She moaned, one of her hands moving to her own breast, kneading it, rolling her nipple between two fingers. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

He chuckled, just watching her work.

“You liked ridin’ that bull more than this one, didn’t you, sugar?” The words were meant to egg her on, her hips stuttering momentarily before falling back into a rhythm, faster now. “Probably still thinkin’ ‘bout that huge piece of metal between your legs.”

She whimpered, his words only getting her closer to the edge. Changing the angle just slightly, she finally found more friction against her clit while his cock dragged along all the wonderful parts inside of her pussy. So thick and deep, each bounce better than the last.

Fuck, she wished he was fucking her right now, pounding her into the truck bed, knowing he would make it fast but hard with how worked up he was.

It was a miracle he hadn’t busted inside of her yet.

“No, Jack.”

He chuckled, one of his hands reaching out to smooth over her hip and down to her ass, caressing the spot where it had come down harshly. Only to do so again, loving the noises that left her lips.

“You better not, the only bull you need to ride is right here, sugar.” He said, helping her movements by guiding them once they started to falter.

Completely lost in the feeling of his cock, eyes closed and bouncing on him like her life depended on it.

“Just work it, baby, just like that.” The praise made her feel hot, sweat breaking on her skin as she continued to focus on the feeling of him inside of her. “Gimme a yeehaw, sweet cowgirl, c’mon!”

It was ridiculous, a breathless giggle leaving her as she opened her eyes and looked at him. She loved the smirk on his lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Still, she obliged, taking one hand off his chest to lift his hat off of her head, just like she had pretended to earlier.

“Yeehaw, baby!” She yelled, making him laugh beneath her, wishing he could take a picture of this. Her, against the starry sky in the middle of nowhere, waving his hat around.

Maybe he should do that another time.

“Atta girl, keep ridin’ it, show that bull who’s the boss!”

Another harsh smack on her ass, the area red and stinging but simply adding to the feeling.

Jack could be so ridiculous sometimes, but she enjoyed it, grinding down into him harder.

“This bull’s got some stamina.” She breathed out, nothing but a whiny whisper. “Fuck, I’m close.”

He sat up again, his hands pushing her down into his lap, feeling her grip him tight when his lips found hers.

“Soak it, sugar,” Jack groaned against her lips, teetering right on the edge, “be a good little cowgirl for me and soak my cock with that talented pussy.”

His fingers found her clit, hurling her right over the edge with just the smallest touch, her arms wrapping around his neck once again as her pussy convulsed around him, breathless moans leaving her.

It made her head spin, the intensity of her orgasm and as her hips faltered, he kept guiding her movements, his fingers still working on her clit. Too much at once, biting his lip as he finally fell over as well.

Pressing her down into his lap, his dick spilling deep inside of her with a deep groan. He could never get enough of that feeling of her tight pussy.

His arms encircled her waist, keeping her close as she slowly caught her breath, slumped against him. That was too much of a workout tonight, first her session on the mechanical bull and now her rodeo on this one.

“What a ride.” She chuckled, leaning back to look at him. Taking his hat off of her, she placed it back on his head. “How d’you enjoy this rodeo, cowboy?”

Jack laughed, squeezing her tight.

What a filthy little thing.

“Never enjoyed bein’ ridden more than with this damn fine cowgirl on top of me.” He answered, giving her a little pat on the hip, signalling her to move off of him. If they were home already, she could have stayed sitting on his cock all night long but unfortunately they still had a bit of a drive in front of them.

She understood, moving off of him, still smiling but missing the feeling of him inside of her already.

Jack helped her get dressed again after he had put his own pants back in place, steadying her as she stood on wobbly legs.

“Which one did you enjoy more, darlin’?” He asked once they were finished and back in the car again. “There’s only one right answer here, sugar, so choose carefully.”

She giggled, pretending to think for a moment as he started the Bronco and took off.

“The mechanical one was wild.” She said, seeing him raise an eyebrow, just the corner of his lips curling up. “But nothing’s better than the real deal, don’t worry, Jack.”

He laughed at that, shaking his head.

“Nothin' better than a real bull to ride, that’s true, sugar.” Looking over at her briefly, she could still see the mischief in his eyes, promising nothing good. “But you should get a few more lessons in, cowgirl. There’s a lot to learn.”

She rolled her eyes, one of her hands laying on his thigh.

“And I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to teach me “

718 notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 10 months

Text

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓

pairing: stripper!jack daniels x f!reader

genre: stripper AU, explicit, minors dni

word count: 4.2k

summary: frustrated by your everyday life, you seek solace at a male strip club. It's your first time and you're instantly mesmerized by the one that calls himself "Whiskey".

warnings: a mild start of a anxiety attack at the beginning, suggestive dancing, stripping, coming untouched, awkward moments, reader's first time at a strip club, unprofessional situations, mutual pining, sexual tension, use of good girl once

a/n: this idea was born whilst we were talking with @fuckyeahdindjarin about stripper!frankie and ofc since both of us are unhinged about a certain cowboy, the conversation steered naturally in the direction of stripper!jack ❤️‍🔥 I'd like to add that I've never been to a strip club and everything here (especially the dances) are born from me watching way too many male stripping tutorials and google searches, so it might not be %1000 authentic buuuuut hopefully it's fun nonetheless!

click for part two of the stripper!jack series

dividers by @firefly-graphics 💜

Your eyes are glued to the neon sign right above the bar. It flickers a bright pink, then purple, then red. In capital letters, it says: PEEP SHOW, and underneath it there’s a heart and in that, a keyhole.

The music isn’t loud enough to leave you deaf, thankfully. You’re not sure you could’ve handled music blaring from the speakers like you were in a dance club. Make Up Sex by SoMo plays in the background, you gently sway with the rhythm refusing to look at the stage. The thumb of your right-hand traces over the knuckles of your left. You notice the bartender and tear your gaze from the sign.

He stands behind the counter, his presence radiating a magnetic charm. With a physique sculpted to perfection, he possesses an air of rugged masculinity. His hazel eyes hold a captivating depth, and his confident smile hints at a mischievous nature. As he moves with grace and confidence, he threads his fingers through his tousled chestnut hair.

“You look like you might need a drink,” he teases, his smile bright and comforting. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Uh. . . a greyhound please?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he replies, taking a step back as if about to leave. But then, he pauses, leaning in close. His breath gently fans your skin, a rush of excitement flooding your veins. “And just some friendly advice, try to relax. We promise we don’t bite,” he says with a wink and goes off to prepare your drink.

You’re frustrated. Have you truly been that obvious? Who are you kidding— of course you have. You’re alone at a male strip club staring at the neon sign rather than the stage. Of course, they can tell you’re new here. You sigh and look around. The establishment is surprisingly neat. You notice a bachelorette party taking place not that far away from you, they seem to be having fun, screaming as a stripper sways his hips from side to side. He looks good. Chiseled abs, shiny chest, the whole thing shebang.

Your heart sinks into your chest. You hate being alone and you’re so incredibly tired of it. Everyone you know is either busy or doesn’t care enough to spare you even an hour. It’s been two years since your last relationship and you swear the lack of company is eating you alive. It would be fine if you had a couple of distractions, like going out with friends maybe, but that proved to be an impossible ask. You’re not even sure why you’re so bothered. You do a lot of things alone. You enjoy your own company. Yet, for some reason seeing everyone together, having fun is more difficult today compared to other days. Your chest collapses on itself, your pulse quick under your skin.

Suddenly it's very hard to breathe.

You take short, sharp breaths, filling your lungs with the scent of musk and strawberries.

Your chest continues to heave—Shit, are you about to have a panic attack in a freaking strip club? Now that will surely be in your top five most embarrassing moments. Nothing even happened, why are you feeling like this?

“You a’right there darlin’?”

A voice smooth as honey reaches your ears. It curls around your body and keeps you still. Goosebumps flare across your skin, the small hairs that are scattered over the back of your neck standing with attention. Slowly, you turn.

It’s one of the strippers, at least you assume it’s one of the strippers. He’s wearing a cowboy hat, a leather jacket, and some low-hanging jeans. He’s wearing a white mesh top underneath. You find yourself unabashedly gawking at him. You’re not sure how long you stare but you’re hoping it only lasted for a second. And if you’re really lucky, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

In contrast to the other strippers you’ve seen so far, he appears slightly older with a softened stomach, yet possesses a lean physique sculpted by years of dance.

You swallow thickly, forcing your gaze back up. He’s clean-shaven except for a dark mustache, he’s smiling but you see a hint of worry in his gaze. Narrowing your eyes, you notice a small gold sticker in the shape of a star under his right eye.

“I’m. . .” you swallow again and shake your head. You’re dumbfounded. “I’m okay, thanks.”

The bartender places the greyhound you ordered, at the same time the stripper extends a hand, “Whiskey,” he says in a sultry way. You squeeze his hand and raise your eyebrows, your shake is a bit weak.

“Whiskey?” you ask. He lets go of your hand and you bring it to your forehead, nervous laughter escaping you. “Oh, it’s your stage name. Of course.”

His crooked smile is intoxicating, the tip of his tongue moves over his teeth. “My parents would have to hate me to name me ‘whiskey’ sugar,” he answers, rubbing his chin. A moment of silence follows as he thinks, ”Well, my real name ain’t any less embarrassing now that I think about it.”

You want to ask him his real name but end up biting your tongue instead. You can’t ask him that, it would be rude, and even if you did you doubt that he’ll tell you. Pressing your lips tightly together, you drop your gaze to your drink. You curl your fingers around it. The sudden cold against your skin calming you.

“First time?” he asks and you nod. “May I ask why you’re here then, so I can be of service?”

That’s a good question. Why are you here?

“I think to have some fun,” you mutter as you drag your thumb over the cool condensation. “I’m just. . .” you shake your head. “Nevermind, that’s stupid. Let’s just say I’m here to have some fun.”

Whiskey observes you for a moment. His chocolate gaze taking in every detail of your expression. Are all strippers this attentive? you think, heat crawling up your spine. His hand slowly slides over the smooth bar until his fingers are gently resting above your wrist. You suck in a breath. His thumb moves over to the inside of your wrist, tracing the vein that pulses violently.

“How about a private dance?” he asks slowly, as if you might bolt out the doors at any given second. “I promise to entertain you thoroughly, sugar.”

You blink, “Really?” you ask instantly feeling foolish at the question. It’s a service he provides, that you will be paying for, of course he means it. Nonetheless, he seems amused by the question. He grins proudly, crowding your personal space. He tilts his head. Your fingers twitch around the glass and your eyes drop to his lips.

Man, he’s dreamy. You’re starting to understand the appeal of these establishments.

“Really,” he parrots back at you. “Follow me, darlin’.”

With shaky legs, you do.

The private room is a sanctuary tucked away from prying eyes.

Your eyes follow the sumptuous drapes of deep velvet cascading from floor to ceiling. In the center of the room stands a circular stage much smaller compared to the one outside, its surface gleaming. Positioned in the middle of it, a solitary chair, adorned in lavish leather, and next to it a small table with a small remote on top. Whiskey closes the door as you enter and walks with confident steps. You stand awkwardly until he gestures towards the sole seat with his head.

“Take a seat, sweetheart. Get comfortable.”

“O–Okay.”

You’re not aware of how close he is until you take a seat, he immediately follows, dipping low. He curls two thick fingers under your chin and tilts your head up, his gaze searching.

“Tell me if anythin’ starts becomin’ too much, understood?”

“Understood,” you squeak, cheeks growing warm. Without any hesitation, he starts the music. Acquainted by the Weeknd starts playing softly through the speakers. There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The way he walks now is different from the way he walked when guiding you here. He saunters over to you, his shoulders rounding as he starts feeling the music moving through him.

He stands in front of you, movements fluid and confident. You’re mesmerized by him. He stalks even closer to you, and you feel the electric heat radiating off of his body. He slides his hands down your arms and you can't help but let out a little gasp.

Whiskey continues to study your expression, He moves with grace and purpose, his body sliding and swaying sensually to the music. His hips rock back and forth in time, seemingly choreographed flawlessly. His hands glide down his body, tracing the contours of his definition before slipping up his torso. His movements are punctuated by smoldering gazes and slow, deliberate breaths. He rolls his shoulders, his leather jacket sliding to his elbows and falling to the floor a beat later. Your mouth waters.

Suddenly, he turns and bends his knees, straddling your thighs. Your gaze drops, turning into saucers as you take in the sight of his tiny little ass. You exhale a sharp breath from your nose, nostrils flaring. He draws circles with his hips, nearly brushing against you but not quite, he gently holds your wrists, placing them in his inner thighs. His touch is feather-like and with two fingers, allowing you the chance to break free if needed. Your skin feels taut over your muscles, sweat building at your tailbone—he’s so close. You don’t even remember the last time you were this close to a man. It’s dizzying.

Whiskey slowly extends his legs and slides your hands up, your fingers skim the apex of his thighs until he’s standing.

Arousal builds between your legs, your lips a tight, thin line.

Your hands are on his crotch.

Oh god, you think you might actually faint. Wouldn’t that be fucking hilarious?

Fuck he feels warm under your palms—

Scratch that, he feels big.

He drops down as he rolls his hips, his body slides under your hands like a snake and your fingers move up his chest with the movement, feeling the mesh fabric and the firm chest underneath. Very inappropriately, your nails bite into his skin. If your eyes weren’t glued to this gorgeous man’s back, you would’ve missed the moment his hips stuttered, the smallest grunt echoing from the back of his throat.

“Sorry,” you squeak, fingers twitching.

“Don’t worry about it darlin’, just enjoy the show.”

He stands back up again, guiding your hands down to his hips as he squats low. Before you know it, your hands are resting on his pelvis once more, feeling the underlying heaviness. He grinds forward, hefty bulge filling your palms.

The music fades to the background. His steps in slow motion, he turns and straddles you normally, knees dipping as he raises his arms and grinds his hips towards you. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s so close. With his every move, you can smell the leather coming off of him, it takes you everything not to close your eyes and just inhale his scent. He steers your hands towards his ass, placing them against the firm mounds.

You know that this is a strip show. You know that you’ll be paying him afterward—and tipping him generously.

But, fuck, the way he’s looking at you shouldn’t be allowed. Something dark swirling in them, something ravenous. His smile is knowing, teasing, like he can read your mind and it’s unnerving. How does anyone leave this strip club not being a mess for this man?

His fingers delicately trace the column of your neck, moving over to your shoulder and coming back. He’s observing you, eyes fixed on you as he searches for any kind of discomfort. Then he gradually wraps his hand around your neck. There’s no pressure and it feels slightly ticklish.

He moves closer in tune with the music, his lips brush against your neck, your nipples tightening at the touch. He takes your hands and guides them up his chest and broad shoulders. His lips are barely touching yours and you can feel his softly blowing breath. He thrusts his hips, clothed cock nearly touching your chest, suddenly you’re holding your breath wishing nothing more than his touch. His ass flexes under your hand, firm and warm.

Till this point, you were trying really hard to ignore how wet you’ve gotten. Subtly, you’re moving your hips, trying to add pressure to your throbbing clit. The wet fabric of your underwear grazes against the bundle of nerves, dipping between your wet folds. Your chest heaves and you swallow down a whimper. It’s been so fucking long since you’ve felt anything like this. Tension curls around your thighs and moves up to your stomach, arousal heavy between your legs. He must be used to this right? You can’t be the only one to get this worked up.

Even if Whiskey does notice your weak attempts at relief, he doesn’t say anything.

All your senses narrow on him as he kneels in front of you, the music dropping with him. With a wink, he takes your hands and guides them down his chest while leaning back to sit on his heels. Your hands slide down his torso, once again just shy in touching his length. With a body roll, he comes back up and grips the armrests of your chair, popping up into a bridge position. Your thighs are spread and he drops his head low, you swear you feel his breath on you before he slithers up again, lips nearly brushing the valley of your breasts. His face is an inch away from yours, only charm. He tilts his head, coming in closer as if he’s about to kiss you, then moves away again.

You’re mortified when you find yourself instinctively chasing after his lips.

He hums, the sound barely audible over the music, his smile never fades, “Good girl,” he mutters as his hands slide down to gently grip the back of your thighs.

You’ve never been more aware of not touching someone in your life.

Whiskey pushes himself closer and lifts your legs. Despite the clothes that separate the two of you, you feel the sinewy fabric of muscle hidden underneath as your legs frame his narrow hips. He presses closer, positioning his length against you. You feel it. His cock throbbing and aching under those tight, tight pants. Your throat moves, the muscles in your jaw clenched. He grazes one hand up and up and up until the width of it rests over your hip.

He continues his grinding, his jeans rubbing tantalizingly against your inner thighs. You feel his hardness through the thin fabric separating you; all you can think is how good it feels to have him there. His hands rub lazily across your hips, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Whiskey's hands snake up your sides, his fingers weaving through the flesh of your waist. His pelvis moves rhythmically against yours, each thrust accompanied by a low moan that you’re desperately trying to bite down.

“You seem tense darlin’,” his breath is hot and heavy in your ear as he gently nibbles the sensitive lobe, tantalizing you further. “Could see it in your eyes as soon as I spotted you alone at the bar. Let go, sweetheart. It’ll be our little secret,” His hips sway in and out, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You feel your breath catch and become labored, is—is he actually suggesting what you think he’s suggesting?

God, you just don’t have it in you to care anymore. You’re too worked up, every touch feels doubled with the way he moves, smiles, and looks at you.

You can’t help but relax into his motions. He moves slower, teasing you as he coaxes your inevitable fall. He builds you up, and normally, you would bask in the relief that he would tear you apart soon enough—but the thing is. . . you two aren’t actually having sex. There’s a very high chance the build-up would last forever, that is, until the time was up. You’re being edged in the best way possible but you fear you might have a hearty breakdown if you can’t, as how he put it; “let go”.

He must’ve sensed your worries because for the first time, his smile falters, brows furrowing with concentration. His eyes flit over yours briefly before cupping your chin and raising your head. You expect him to say something, anything—maybe call you his good girl again—but nothing escapes those lush lips. Your eyes drop to the divot of his bottom lip and he leans closer, cock fully moving over your puffy clit. Your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek. Your stomach bottoms out, there’s a faint buzzing in your ears as the pressure in you grows and grows until you feel it in the back of your eyes.

Fuck—Are you about to come?

Nonononononono—

Your body spasms in pleasure, an orgasm building from deep within you as the music and his body surround you. He smells of pine and leather and the scent assaults your lungs. Your insides begin to clench and your muscles carry on a delirious dance of its own as warmth starts to spread in waves throughout your body. Your toes curl and every nerve ending in your body is brought alive. You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath quickens. You swallow down all the noises that threaten to spill out. All you can think of is how embarrassing this is, your cheeks are left burning, your orgasm washing over you in large waves against your better judgment.

Whiskey barely slows, still rolling his hips with the guide of the slowing song. He does pull back eventually and you’re grateful for it. The inside of your mouth is dry, your eyes watered, the inside of your panties soaked.

“S-Shit,” you whisper. “I’m . . . I’m—”

He lets out a content sigh, if anything, he seems delighted by the whole ordeal.

“Like I said darlin’,” he rasps, breath ghosting your lips. “This will be our little secret.”

The music ends and you know your time is up.

Hanging out at a strip club isn’t actually as mortifying as you thought it would be.

After your first encounter with Whiskey, you thought you would never step into the glitter and glam of the club ever again. However, after a particularly tough day, you found yourself at the door once more. The bartender, who later introduced himself as Tequila, greeted you enthusiastically, and from that point on, you became a regular.

Despite being a regular, names were still off-limits, and you didn't mind. Everyone was entitled to their privacy, and it made it all the more special for the time when Whiskey might eventually reveal his real name, if that day ever came. You're still not sure where you stand exactly on the spectrum between being a customer and a friend.

You could never afford another private dance though, at least not if you wanted to have enough money for food this month. Nevertheless, you were content with just watching the performances, and seeing Whiskey entertain endless bachelorette and bachelor parties was always a delight.

And hey, surprisingly, Tequila made some killer iced coffees, which you greatly appreciated since you weren't the biggest drinker and a bit of a lightweight. The last thing you wanted was to get drunk with Whiskey around, as you had already embarrassed yourself enough. However, he was a man of his word. He never mentioned the incident that took place during his performance. In fact, he behaved as if it never happened. For a minute there, you even thought that maybe you had imagined the whole thing.

However, there were moments when he would simply give you a certain look, and in that instant, you knew for certain that he did remember.

“Here you go gorgeous,” Tequila says, pulling you from your thought as he places an iced coffee in front of you.

Your eyes widen as you see whipped cream with a lavish cherry on top. 'Is there a special occasion I'm not aware of?'

He shrugs, “I was bored, it’s a slow night.”

Thanking him, you turn in your seat. It was a slow night, with only a handful of people present. There was a couple seeking a good time and a couple of corporate-looking ladies. Whiskey was entertaining one of them, employing his Southern charm as he winked at the woman and tipped his hat. Over the passing days, you had come to recognize his dance choreography. It seemed he genuinely enjoyed what he was doing, which made you happy in return.

Sometimes you do wish you had met the man outside of these walls though. You can’t fight the longing you feel whenever you see him. Other than being ridiculously attractive —and knowing how to make a woman come without touching them— he was kind to you that day. He saw how miserable you were and tried to cheer you up. Sure, you were a customer, but still, he didn’t have to go the extra mile.

You often thought about meeting him at a supermarket or something instead. Would he be as kind? Would he be as attentive? Maybe he wouldn’t even give you a second glance as he buys a box of cereal—you frown, when you think about it like that, maybe meeting him in a strip club wasn’t that bad after all.

Whiskey's dance comes to an end and you have to fight every fiber of your being not to eat him with your eyes like a hungry, horny, wolf. You try to look disinterested, eyes moving to one of the other dancers. It’s too late though, his gaze catches your own. He smiles as he struts towards you.

“How are you sweetheart?” he asks, pink tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “Is Tequila here treatin’ you well?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” You grin, gesturing to the whipped cream and cherry on top, as if it's obvious. His eyes drop to the fruit, glistening and wet. Without waiting for you to say anything, he picks up the fruit by the stem and sticks his tongue out. He catches the cherry with his lips, slowly drawing it into his mouth, and you watch, transfixed, as he chews. His jaw works over the cherry, then, a moment later, he shows you his tongue once more.

On the tip of it, lays a neatly knotted stem.

“Holy hell,” you whisper. “I should be mad because I was looking forward to that cherry but I’m too impressed.”

With two fingers Whiskey calls for Tequila, “Get the pretty lady another cherry,” he says.

“Show off,” the other man mutters but complies anyway. A quick moment later, there’s another cherry on a bed of white.

You eye him warily, “You’re not gonna eat this one too, are you?”

He laughs, “No darlin’. Don’t worry, enjoy your overly sweetened fruit.”

Still not trusting him, holding it by the stem, you stick the cherry between your lips and quickly chew. He draws his brows together, “No show?”

“If I was that talented with my tongue I wouldn’t be single.”

“There’s more to relationships than a good tongue,” he answers. “I would know.”

He’s single?

You don’t know why the revelation shocks you, but it does. You didn’t want to assume anything based on his career choice and by personality alone, you didn’t really think he would be in the same boat as you.

“You can act a little less surprised you know,” he teases, leaning against the bar with a curled lip.

“S-Sorry, I just never thought you would be single you’re just so. . .” cutting yourself off, you press your lips together. He leans closer, teasing smile now shifting into a full toothy grin.

“So. . . what?” he asks. His finger dips into the whipped cream, and he brings it to his lips, his deep gaze never leaving yours as he sucks it off slowly. “Dazzling, charming, talented?”

Your throat goes dry and you have to swallow, “Well yes, all of those and. . . handsome.”

“Compliments don’t get you a free dance, sweetheart,” he winks. “Just sayin’.”

Your lips quiver, a hesitant smile curving your lips. Your cheeks warm under his gaze.

Talking to him comes easy to you. You also enjoy his confidence, he knows he’s good looking and he doesn’t shame you for stating it, or make you feel less of a person for admitting. It’s freeing. Maybe that’s why you’re always visiting the club. He grants you a place to just be yourself, even if he does so intentionally or not, you appreciate it.

“You, giving out a free dance?” you exaggerate every word, you mirror his movement and stick two fingers in the whipped cream. You bring them to your lips, savoring the sweetness. It’s subtle, but you catch the way his breath hitches. Your smile grows. “I never would expect such a thing.”

“Good,” his voice drops dangerously low, almost sounding like a growl. Inching closer, his breath fans the side of your neck and you feel the rough scrape of his mustache against the shell of your ear. A whimper rattles your throat. “I would hate to be misunderstood.”

He pulls back with a wink, he flashes you his canines, and drags his tongue over them. “See you around, sunshine,” he says, voice returning to normal. The words die in your throat as he disappears towards the back, presumably to get ready for his next show.

You’re left staring, mouth agape. Flustered, you stir your iced coffee to feel the soothing sound of ice clanking around.

You frown when you realize all the ice had melted.

Thank you for reading everyone! This one definitely tuckered me out but I think it ended up not being that bad?

Normally this was always going to be a two-parter but then the first part ended up being way longer than I intended (almost 8k) so I decided to split it into two chapters since didn't want it to be too long. Therefore, this little series will be three parts in total. I've written most of chapter two since it was meant to be a part of chapter one so it'll be out relatively quick!

That's it for now, sending everyone love and many hugs 💜

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x female!reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey fanfiction #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

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