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anakinstwinklebunny · 19 days

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SWEETHEART!ANAKIN HEADCANONS 3

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Sweetheart!Anakin who knows how much you love stargazing, so one night, he surprises you with a late-night picnic under the stars

Sweetheart!Anakin who was great with kids. To even see him interact with other children as their uncle was so sweet. How he always listened to them, played and entertained them, how he was almost all the time surrounded by running little ones was just the most endearing thing you've ever seen those days

Sweetheart!Anakin who obviously had a golden retriever personality yet with some light shyness (yet it was attractive)

Sweetheart!Anakin who loved to hug you straight after coming back from work. He always said that seeing you was 'his favorite part of the day' and he had to at least have five minutes of hugging you before he could even go undress to some more comfortable clothes

Sweetheart!Anakin who was completely into decorating house for each season (like winter, fall, Easter, etc) with you

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually had a conversation with you about having kids. Although he was sleepy, all cuddled up to you after the long Christmas day spent with his and yours family, and he had a small baby fever (that you acknowledged since he sometimes had a habit of stopping by and looking through the baby clothes). So he was half 'alive' while he was asking you about having little ones running all around, although he highlighted that it's your body and it should be your choice to have kids.

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually collected Lego's. He had a small room for it and in free time he just went there, sometimes closed the doors to be with himself (although if you needed him or just wanted to be with him he didn't stop you from coming inside) and could even build an entire Lego city

Sweetheart!Anakin who wasn't a true sub and wasn't a true dom either. He'd not slap you or hurt you during sex. He knew he'd feel awful afterwards, even if you'd assure him it's okay, that you don't mind. So he tried to gently destroy you

Sweetheart!Anakin who began to feel suspicious about your behavior. Out of a sudden the smell of your lovely coffee was disgusting for you and brought a wave of nausea through you. Also your often morning sicknesses, and stuff like that

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually teared up after finding out you're pregnant and made sure to at least appear at most of your doctor appointments. In general he was very devoted/committed to your pregnancy. You needed a special pillow for pregnant women? He'd buy it the same day you mentioned it. Your back hurt? He'd make sure to relief pain as much as he could. Your feet were sore? He would leave what he had been doing to help you. You felt self-conscious about your body? He'd make sure to remind you how beautiful you are, how glowing, how radiant you are to him every.single.day

Sweetheart!Anakin who trained putting on diapers on everything. From plastic dolls to watermelons, to his mother's cat

Sweetheart!Anakin who was extremely cuddly after your announcement of pregnancy. He'd gently stroke your swollen belly, often searching for the baby's movements

Sweetheart!Anakin who absolutely was adoring you (even more) for carrying a literal human being in your own body for nine months. He himself made sure to remind you how strong you are, how he's proud of you and how he wouldn't be able to do it himself. For him you were a true inspiration, a woman who deserved to be pleased every day, a true super hero. No one could do it like you did, especially if you had not one baby but two

Sweetheart!Anakin who teased you about the gender of the baby;

"I'm fine, just a little dizzy," you said, brushing Anakin's concerned question about your mood. You knew Anakin was worried, but you didn't want to make a big deal out of it. "Really, it's nothing."

He frowned immediately, his smile fading as concern took over his features after seeing your tired face. "You sure? Want to sit down? We can head home if you'd prefer. Padmé won’t mind; she’s more excited about this baby than any of our friends," he added with a playful roll of his eyes.

"No, I’m okay. It’s not like he’s kicking all day or anything,"

“He?” Anakin raised an eyebrow. “I thought you told your doctor to keep it a secret.”

"I didn’t hear it from the doctor," you watched his confusion grow. "It’s my... motherly intuition" you added with a proud smirk.

“Motherly intuition, huh?” Anakin chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. “With kicks that hard? Definitely a girl” he grinned widely.

Sweetheart!Anakin who was shocked to find out you had twins yet was extremely excited, saying he'll have a bigger 'Skywalker's army'

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually was nervous with you when your waters broke. Yet, he refused to leave your side. Almost having an argument with the doctor

Sweetheart!Anakin who sobbed after holding the twins for the first time; a baby boy and baby girl

Sweetheart!Anakin who told you to absolutely take at least one entire week to take rest after childbirth (without any buts). So, the kids were on him and he brought them to you only when they needed milk (yes, it tired him out but you deserved like no one else a proper break)

Sweetheart!Anakin who had a deal with you that you change diaper by turns;

You were both a mess, but not the bad kind—just the kind that comes with adjusting to the whirlwind of having a newborns. It was exhausting, overwhelming, and yet, you wouldn't trade it for anything. The quiet of the night was suddenly interrupted by the boy's sharp cries from his crib, signaling either a dirty diaper or another round of breastfeeding. You groaned softly, feeling the weight of the day pulling you already down, and reached out to gently pat Anakin's toned arm, trying to rouse him from his sleep.

“Ani, your turn…” you mumbled, barely opening your eyes, too drained to even move.

Anakin grumbled in response, his head shifting slightly on the pillow, his messy hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision.

“Ugh, why my turn…” he muttered, slowly removing his arm from across his face, his eyes still squeezed shut against the reality of waking up. “...I changed him last time” he added, his voice low and raspy with sleep.

“I know, I know…” you replied, your voice soft and tired as you burrowed deeper into the covers. “Just… change him, please… I can’t handle his crying right now.”

Anakin sighed, the sound a mixture of resignation and love. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the dim light filtering into the room from the moonlight, and sat up with a groan, rubbing his face with both hands to try to shake off the fog of sleep. “What time is it…?” he asked, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.

“Dunno… Just… go, please,” you murmured, turning over in bed, desperately trying to find a comfortable position and a moment’s peace.

“I’m going, I’m going…” Anakin muttered, dragging himself out of bed. His body protested with every step, but he made his way to the crib and gently scooped up their wailing son into his arms. “Hey, buddy… hey there,” he whispered soothingly, pressing a soft kiss to his tiny head. He just prayed the girl next to him wouldn't actually wake up right now

The baby’s cries softened slightly at the sound of his father’s voice, but the discomfort remained. Anakin walked over to the changing table, his movements slow but careful, and laid the boy down, his large hands dwarfing the baby’s small frame. “Shh, it’s okay… Daddy’s got you,” he murmured

Suddenly, after Anakin removed the dirty diaper from the newborn, he felt a warm spray hit his chest. He froze for a moment, disbelief and exhaustion warring on his face. “Dammit—” he cursed under his breath, quickly grabbing the diaper and trying to cover the baby before the tiny stream could go any further. “Little—” he started, but cut himself off with a sigh, knowing he couldn't really be mad at the baby.

The sound of your soft giggles broke through his frustration. You didn't have to look up to know what had happened and you would be lying if it wasn't somehow funny. But not for Anakin..He snapped his head in your direction, his eyes narrowing playfully as he saw you hiding your face in a pillow, trying to muffle your laughter.

“Oh, so this is funny to you, huh?” he grumbled, though there was no real heat in his voice. He finished changing the boy, making sure the new diaper was secure, before picking him up and heading back to the bed. Anakin flopped down beside you, carefully laying the boy in the space between you two. He knew how the boy was sensitive and just a small movement of putting him down to his crib could end up with more cries

“Yeah, go on, laugh all you want,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcastic amusement

“At least his aim is already on point…” you whispered, still grinning, unable to resist poking fun at the situation.

Anakin let out a mock groan, glancing down at the boy, who had mercifully stopped crying and was now staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes, cooing softly. “His aim is all over the damn place,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward. He reached out to gently brush a finger across the boy's cheek, his frustration melting away as he looked at his son.

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually was so uplifting after you had twins in more ways than one but especially about sex;

The quiet room was filled with the soft sounds of Anakin’s belt unbuckling and his pants unzipping, the noise almost deafening in the intimate silence. The kids were with your mother, so the house was all for you. And since you haven't had enough time for such activities lately, why not use such opportunity now? He continued to trail gentle kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he spoke, “I’ve been wanting to touch you all day..”

You hesitated, a mixture of shyness and concern creeping into your voice. “Wait—I… You know that after childbirth, that place isn’t the same… Maybe we should wait a bit longer…”

Anakin froze for a moment, his lips still pressed against your neck as he absorbed your words. A flicker of disappointment crossed his mind, but it was quickly replaced by a wave of understanding and concern.. He lifted his head, his warm breath brushing your skin as he whispered, “Are you sure? Is it… uncomfortable for you?”

You looked away, your voice trembling slightly with anxiety. “I just want to make you feel good…but I know that place isn’t the same as before, and—”

Anakin softly shushed you, placing a tender finger on your lips to stop your nervous rambling. “Hey… relax,” he murmured, his tone soothing and patient.

He adjusted his position, hovering above you with his hands resting on either side of your head, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t care about that,” he said firmly but with infinite gentleness. “Your comfort and well-being mean more to me than anything else.”

His gaze softened as his hand moved to caress your face, his fingers now tracing the delicate curve of your jawline. “Don’t worry about me or how it might feel. Your comfort and happiness come first. If you’re not ready, I’ll wait—no matter how long it takes.”

You bit your lip, still uncertain. “I mean, I want to do it… but what if it doesn’t feel the same for you?”

Anakin’s expression softened with a tender smile, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. “Do you really think that’s what matters to me?” he asked, shaking his head slightly, his voice tinged with affectionate amusement.

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and reassuring. “It’s not just about the physical sensation for me. It’s about being close to you, sharing that intimacy with you. Any pleasure I get is just a bonus. What truly matters is that you feel safe, loved, and happy.”

His eyes held yours with a sincerity that made your heart swell. “I don’t care if your body has changed. You’re still you—still the woman I love, still as beautiful and sexy as ever.”

Anakin leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. “So please… stop worrying about me and just let me love you"

Sweetheart!Anakin who would actually try to help your leaking with milk breasts..;

he paused, his lips still lingering over the sensitive bud, before gently nibbling and teasting it with his tongue. His voice - thick with desire, broke the silence "God, i just want to taste you..every day, every night.."

"A-ani" you gasped, a flush of embarrassment rising as you felt the milk begin to leak from your chest

Anakin's eyes widened slightly as he saw the milk seeping from your chest, a blend of surprise and fascination evident in his gaze.

“Oh… gods…”

He leaned back just enough to take in the sight, his eyes transfixed on the delicate droplets. A surge of primal desire mingled with his deep affection.

His fingers, gentle and tentative, traced the path of the milk, careful not to hurt you “Can I…?” he asked softly, his voice a hushed whisper filled with both awe and longing to which you nodded

Anakin continued his attentions with a careful, deliberate rhythm, his mouth and tongue exploring your chest with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. His gaze remained fixed on your face, every shift in your expression and every soft moan drawing him in further.

Occasionally, he pulled away just enough to murmur against your skin, his voice a low, husky growl laced with a mix of frustration and yearning. “How is our kids so lucky… having this all the time while I only get to savor it so rarely…”

Sweetheart!Anakin who would spend time to write his own short book to read for the bedtime. For him, most of the stories were simply the same and some informations were repeated - princess captured by dragon, etc

Sweetheart!Anakin who would definitely make his own drawings to the book and soon after read it for the bedtime to the twins

Sweetheart!Anakin who had a habit of saying encouraging phrases to his children, especially when they were crying and feeling down;

As some days before, today's was the day where your daughter had a low 'battery' in everything - tantrum after tantrum, cries after cries and it was all getting already to your head. So, to not leave you alone, Anakin of course stepped in and after a timeout and a talk about proper behavior, he began the small therapy session to lift up the girl's mood;

As Anakin knelt before his baby girl, the little girl's wide, brown eyes glistened with unshed tears. Anakin gently took the soft arms of his daughter into his large, calloused hands, offering a smile as he encouraged the toddler with his usual routine. "C'mon, baby," he murmured softly, "I'm big."

The girl's tiny voice struggled to form the words perfectly, although the lisped response only made Anakin's smile grow wider.

"I'm brave," he continued, and after the girl actually repeated he added "I'm beautiful"

"I beautifu-u-u-l-l" the girl sniffed the tears back in

Anakin's smile only widened at his girl's innocent attempts to pronounce the challenging word, and he gently reached out, tenderly wiping away the tears from the child's eyes. "Yes, you are, beautiful. So beautiful, so precious," he whispered, the genuine warmth in his voice showing through every word. He gave his daughter a gently nudge "Now, c'mere, give me huggies."

Sweetheart!Anakin who's daughter's personality was a spitting image of his with your looks and his son had his looks with your personality. So, he was over the moon with all of you

Sweetheart!Anakin who definitely used his friends to have a moment with you;

A brief silence settled between you, the room filled only with the soft sounds of the boy's and girls breathing. They were sleeping on your bed, after a rough night of breastfeeding, diaper change and toothing..Finally, you broke the quietness, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been this tired.”

Anakin sighed, the exhaustion evident in his voice as he kept his gaze on the ceiling “Me neither… I don’t know how someone so tiny can be so loud and exhausting.” He paused, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. “What if we let Padmé take them for the weekend?”

You raised an eyebrow, catching his gaze. “You trying to get rid of them already?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant—” Anakin quickly backpedaled, turning to you with a mix of frustration and weariness in his eyes. “I just thought… maybe for a night or two, we could have a break. Just us.”

You hesitated, the idea of being away from your little twins tugging at your heartstrings. “I’m not even sure if Padmé would want them.”

Anakin’s frustration eased, replaced by a soft scoff. “Are you kidding? She’s absolutely smitten with them. I’d be shocked if she didn’t jump at the chance.” He chuckled lightly, the sound a balm to the heavy atmosphere. “She’s offered to babysit a bunch of times, you know. Don’t you think it’d be nice? Just the two of us… no babies, no screaming, no middle-of-the-night wake-ups…”

You bit your lip, still uncertain. “I don’t know…”

Sensing your hesitation, Anakin reached for your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours as he stroked your knuckles with his thumb. “Come on… just picture it. A whole night with nothing to worry about. Just you and me. Do you know how long it’s been since we had that?”

“Probably a month ago,” you replied, half-smiling at the thought.

“Exactly… way too long. I just want to enjoy being with you for a change… we might actually get to sleep” he added, his weariness almost palpable.

You finally nodded, conceding. “Alright… just call her in the morning.”

Anakin’s grin grew wider, relief washing over him. “Don’t worry, she’ll take them. She loves them…” He glanced down at the little boy, who had finally settled. “Just maybe a little less after tonight”

“It’s so quiet…” you murmured, almost as if the silence itself was something to be suspicious of. After padmè took both of your children, the almost uncomfortable quietness overwhelmed your entire room, especially your head

“It is… I can actually hear myself think for once,” he quipped, his tone light and teasing.

“No screaming, no crying… just silence,” you added, almost disbelieving “It’s so quiet, it almost hurts my ears,” you confessed, half-joking but half-serious, as if the absence of noise was too good to be true.

Anakin pulled back slightly to look at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Hurts your ears? You’ve been begging for silence for days, and now that you’ve got it, you’re complaining? I thought you’d be celebrating.”

He paused, the smirk fading slightly as he considered your words. “But, honestly, I get it. The buddy's a sweetheart, but he’s a handful and the small princess is already sassy. We both needed this break. You can’t fool me—I saw how tired you were this morning.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gave you a knowing look that stopped you in your tracks. “Don’t tell me you miss them already.”

Anakin laughed softly, shaking his head in amusement as you kept being quiet, almost ignoring his comment. “Already missing twins after half an hour? You’re such a softie.”

“I’m not a softie” you shot back, a hint of defensiveness in your voice.

“Are you sure about that?” Anakin raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “You’re missing our little balls of energy after less than an hour. Sounds pretty soft to me.”

“Stop,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m enjoying the peace and quiet, see?” you waved your hands in the air to emphasize your words

Anakin smirked, obviously not buying it. He crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, really? Then why have you sighed four times in the last five minutes?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not appreciating being caught out. “Oh, stop,” you muttered, turning to head upstairs, hoping to escape his teasing.

Anakin’s laughter followed you, his smirk never fading as he moved to follow. “Ah, the denial is strong in you,” he teased, clearly enjoying every moment of this playful exchange.

Despite your attempt to brush it off, a small frown tugged at your lips as you climbed the stairs, knowing he was right. As much as you relished the rare quiet, a part of you did miss the noise—the chaotic, beautiful noise that had become the soundtrack of your life. Which was completely weird to you.. because what the hell is wrong with you to miss the 24/7 loudness?

He reached the top of the stairs and saw you walking towards the bedroom, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Come on,” he teased, his voice light and coaxing, “just admit it. Say you miss them.”

You didn’t slow down, but he quickly caught up to you in the hallway, gently grabbing your wrist to stop you in your tracks. He stepped closer, his gaze soft as he looked down at you, still holding onto your wrist. “Admit that you miss those little devilish infants.”

“they're not some devilish infants,” you protested, your brows furrowing defensively. “they're a very cute, sweet, pair of twins with just a few growing teeth, and…” Your voice wavered as tears welled up in your eyes. “And he has those blue, smiling eyes and she has those brown eyes that I adore… that wide, innocent grin… and they have this thin layer of baby hair on their little heads…”

Your voice broke, the tears finally spilling over. Anakin didn’t hesitate—he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight, protective hug. He gently rubbed your back in soothing circles, trying to calm you. “You’re proving my point,” he murmured, his chin resting atop your head.

“I miss them so much…” you sobbed against his chest, your words muffled by his shirt. “I don’t even know why… I’m so tired of changing diapers, feeding them, making sure they doesn’t swallow their toys, changing their clothes… but I still miss them.”

Anakin held you tighter, his embrace firm and reassuring as you cried into his chest. He continued to rub your back, his touch gentle and comforting. “Shhh… it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft and calming. “theyre fine. They're with Padmé, and probably having the time of their life right now.”

“Do you really think so?” you asked, pulling back slightly to look up at him, your nose red and eyes puffy from crying.

Anakin smiled tenderly down at you, using his thumb to gently wipe away the tears that clung to your cheeks. He nodded, his expression full of reassurance. “Of course. They're in good hands with Padmé. She’ll take care of them like they're her own.”

A new worry crept into your mind, and you hesitated before voicing it. “Do you think they'll forget about us?”

Anakin couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he shook his head, guiding you gently into the bedroom. “You’re overthinking again, Rapunzel. We’re their parents—there’s no way they'll forget us. You’re his and hers mother. He’ll always know who we are.”

He closed the door behind you, the room now filled with a comforting silence. “Come on,” he urged softly, leading you towards the bed. “Let’s get some sleep. We need it.”

Sweetheart!Anakin who after ten years, on your anniversary, showed you your dreamed house he had been building behind your back and soon later you moved in to live there

Sweetheart!Anakin who sometimes let his kids wake him up in the middle of the night;

Anakin slept deeply, his arm draped over your waist and his head nestled into the crook of your neck. His breathing was steady and calm, his usually intense features softened in sleep.

Suddenly, a jolt woke him as he felt a small, unexpected smack on his leg. He shot up, instantly alert, scanning the room for the source of the disturbance.

His gaze softened when he saw the twins standing beside the bed, wide-eyed and grinning mischievously.

“What are you two doing up at this hour?” Anakin asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and drowsiness.

“Can’t sleep,” the girl replied, her voice lisping with a playful smile.

“We want ice cream!” the boy added, his tone matching his sister's in enthusiasm.

Anakin raised an eyebrow at their request, struggling to suppress a smile. “Ice cream, huh? Nice try, but it’s way too late for that. It’s past your bedtime.”

“Please!” They both chimed in, their pleas growing louder.

Anakin winced at their volume, casting a worried glance at you to make sure you weren’t disturbed. “Shhh... Mommy's sleeping. No ice cream tonight. You need your rest.”

“Please, Daddy... just this last time,” she begged.

Anakin’s resolve wavered as he saw the pleading in her eyes. He knew giving in now might lead to more late-night requests, but their innocent faces made it hard to resist.

“Fine,” he relented, “but this really is the last time. No more ice cream in the middle of the night, okay?”

With a reluctant sigh, Anakin climbed out of bed, his movements stiff from being jolted awake. He ruffled the twins’ hair affectionately, his amusement barely concealed.

“Alright, let’s go,” he mumbled, taking their little hands in his bigger ones. “But we have to be quiet so we don’t wake up your mom.”

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually made time for the special 'family time' - you'd play together different games, go out for long walks (which was a perfect way to tire out the kids), watch on the repeat 'Toy Story' or any different Disney's/ Pixar's real good movies while you're all cuddled up together. Also teaching kids from a young age how to cook/cut (although he swore to God that he was extremely nervous about giving them a small knife to cut vegetables or other stuff)

Sweetheart!Anakin who was a patient man. Not only with you but especially with kids. He didn't yell at them, but yes he gave punishments for bad behavior (mostly like time out, no dessert and etc) but it all was with unconditional love. Anakin always had a small talk with twin (that behaved badly) about their behavior and teach them the proper way to communicate their emotions and needs

Sweetheart!Anakin who made sure to prioritize your time together and in all craziness of raising twins, make time and spend it with you alone (like small dates, flowers without occasion, again the love letters whenever stuck together with flowers or by your bed in morning when he left to work)

Sweetheart!Anakin who made sure to teach the twins the true prospect of love, to treat everyone with kindness and to help others

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daichiduskdrop · 1 year

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˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

CHAPTER 00 - PROLOGUE

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers, (might do smut in the future)

Warnings: loneliness, anxiety, indicated sa (hardly mentioned at all)

AN.: Hello everyone! This is pretty much my first time writing a FF, and English isn't my first language, so please be patient with me :)

If you enjoy this story, please let me know and I'll continue it. Don't hesitate if you have anything to say, I'm always looking for good advice. Please take care of yourself :))

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ੈ✩‧₊˚✧˚ · .*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It was a bitterly cold and snowy day. The frigid temperatures had been persistent for days, and there was no sign of relief in sight. December had just begun, but it already felt like an endless winter. While the snowflakes were beautiful as they fell to the ground, they brought a feeling of sadness and loneliness.

You loved the hot chocolates you would make for yourself in the small kitchen, you loved bundling up in a soft blanket on the sofa and watching anothe movie. You loved the seasonal Christmas themed ads that were blaring at this time of the year from every corner.

Yes, you loved Christmas, you stopped to remind yourself. Of course you did. Yet still, there was this deep nagging. A feeling of desire, that carried sadness.

'It's snowing like the world is about to end' you thought as you looked from the window that tightly sealed. There wasn't much to look at, even thought the afternoon was only just ending, through the strong snowstorm there was hardly anything visible.

You didn't watch the final race of the snowflakes for much longer. Standing up from your wooden floor you made your way to your apartment door - or more so tried to. Your pillows, blankets, old books and canvases were scattered all around so it proved to be bit of a challenge.

Your room was a mess, it has been like that for far too long. Old newspaper cutouts glued on the walls, posters, painting without frames hung up or just pushed in the corner of the room, where shadows hid them well. There wasn't enough space for them all. Books stacked up in tall chimneys, your phone somewhere burried in-between. You didn't bother to look for it too much.

Lacing up your boots, you took a last look in the mirror. As an omega it was always expected of you to look proper and taken cared of, even if it wasn't always the case. Your heavy jacket felt too heavy on your shoulders, but you knew that you would quite literally freeze to death otherwise. A white woolen scarf was tied around your neck, covering your face up to your nose. It felt comfortable against your cheeks and the scent was also pleasant, so even as it grew older, you still kept it and worn it every winter.

You grabbed your wallet, and pocketed your keys. The small bunny keychain dangled with the movement. It used to be white with few brown spots, but that wore of with the time too. Still, even if most of the colour was missing, you liked it.

With the lock clicking behind you, you started walking down the open hallway to the apartment building entrance. The rooms were only on one side, so it didn't take much time until the cold air swept you from the right. The layer of snow on the wooden railing has grown to over 10 centimetres, and that was only from this day, since it got swept pretty much every morning. The landlord was quite sweet, as allowing an omega a home when they were alone with no alpha or beta in sight wasn't too usual.

Hiding more into your jacket you quickened your pace, and after getting down the steps, you started the walk towards the pharmacy.

Snowflakes fell into your hair, as you made your way down the few streets and roads. Luckily, not many people were outside and so your smell wasn't noticed. It really wasn't too typical to see omegas walking on their own, basically anywhere. The society had strict standards that were followed since,- well, forever.

While some protested, it was just always for the better, anyone to see an omega that's completely alone, unmarked or at least scented was basically free to do anything they wished to.

It made you tremble just the slightest bit thinking about it, but you blamed it on the cold that surrounded you and shook it off. While you were on the outskirts of Seoul, it wasn't like you were constantly alone.

Yes, you reminded yourself once more. There were people around, like that nice looking lady down the street holding a hand of a little girl. She jumped and squeeled in the heavy snow, only to get lightly scolded by the beta for almost slipping in the forming ice. Pups were always the biggest priority, at least in every good pack.

As you walked further and further from your home, more stores appeared, lighting up the streets just enough for you to be more comfortable. The neon sings of restaurants, grocery shops, clothing boutiques and more were bright for your eyes, colourful and soon you started hearing bit more noise too. There were more cars passing by, people smoking cigarettes outside on the streets chatting together.

With the snow crunching underneath your feet you made your way to the mall closest to your apartment. You dusted of as much of the snow from yourself as possible, and walked inside. It felt a lot warmer immediately, but you didn't unzip your jacket too much. You knew your scent would carry too much and people would eventually notice, so you just continued on your way down the escalator, keeping to yourself with the crowd of people going downstairs with you.

Infront of you was another grocery store, that got you thinking about buying some food. The snowstorms often lasted a few days, and you doubted that it would be pleasant to walk here again tomorrow. You didn't have a lot home right now, as you avoided going until it was impossible. Plus the store here was a lot cheaper than the small shops closer to your apartment, that made a big profit from all the-

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud sniffing behind you, something just lightly touching the back of your neck. Startled, you quickly turned, and nearly jumped from your skin. The man must have been in his forties, his eyes closed for a tiny second, before they opened and focused on your face. You averted your gaze, not wanting to seem like you wanted to start anything.

„What are you doing here alone like this?” his tone sounded concerned, but carried a weird undertone, that unsettled you even more. You felt chills run down your spine. You opened your mouth to answer, but your eyes could only widen more, as the last step lowered and you arrived at the floor. Stumbling, you regained your balance and nearly ran off in the way of the pharmacy.

Opening the door, a light bell sound chimed throughout the store, making few of the people in the queue turn to check the newcomer. Looking at your shoes, you shuffled to stand behind the last girl, her natural smell covered in a strong but very sweet perfume scent blockers. Growing up, in high schools, those were always popular for beta or even alphas to wear, to make themselves appear more approachable if their scent wasn't intriguing enough for their liking.

Such perfumes didn't work on omega scents, those were always naturally alluring and hard to cover. Scent blockers were then often used, but since you didn't go out a lot back in highschool, you hardly ever had to use them. You would, now being in college you were constantly around unknown people, so it would come with a nice benefit - sometimes all of the attention that came with being an omega wasn't nice at all. But those were expensive, and the even cheapest ones were bit too pricey for you. Plus the ones you ever tried always made you uncomfortable, and unsettled with how chemically they smelled.

The wet shoeprints with slight mud covered the tiled floors, as you patiently waited for your turn to receive your prescription. And so as the girl before you took the small bottle of medicine, thanked and made her way out again, you took the small paper from your wallet.

„Hi, what can I do for you?” asked the older man behind the counter. His hair was gray and his eyes seemed tired. With the winter season, there must be many people coming with bad colds.

„Hello,” you mumbled looking behind him at the shelves filled with medicaments, „I have a prescription of a medication from my doctor;” he leaned in closer to hear you better. Your voice was naturally just a bit too quiet. Placing the paper onto the sleek counter, you looked away as he nodded and opened it. Taking just a few seconds to read over its contents he bristled to the shelves, pulling out a brown bottle with a white cap.

„...Right here miss. I will just need you to sign a document, that states that your pack alpha is aware of this and agreed to your doctor decision.” smiling, his cheeks lifted as he took a paper from underneath the desk.

You blinked in a surprise, and felt your fingers start to slightly tremble. 'Since when was this a thing? You got your medicine just fine month or two ago, what --?'

„My pack alpha- I-”

He looked back at me after retrieving a pen with calm eyes.

„Yes miss, here... You just fill in your pack alpha's name, and your pack serial number, or if you can't remember the whole thing, you can just write your pack alpha's phone number, we can get in touch later and I will complete the form process with them. You don't have to worry about it at all.” Once again, the worker smiled brightly, seemingly trying to calm you down.

„I know the number is hard to remember, my daughters always forget it too.” lightly chuckling, you could smell just the lightest hint of calming pheromones in the air. Scrunching up the nose at the smell, your anxiety only risen.

If you won't get the medicine you will get in a lot of trouble, and miss even more college lessons, no, you can't miss anymore, and-

„umm- can.. can I just call them first? I'm not so sure-” your voice trembled just the slightest bit as you squeezed your fingers around the prescription. The man once again laughed and nodded his head.

„Of course you can! It's no issue. Just come back again with the prescription and we can go over this again miss.” Nodding slightly, stunned still, just turned on your heel and walked off, the ground slippery with the melted snow, making you almost slip a few times. You eyes clouded with tears and you sniffled loudly as you opened the pharmacy door. Defeated, you clutched your other hand in a tight grip, unsettled and confused. You could bet that your anxious scent was wafting off all over the place.

Your vision blurry, you started heading back towards the escalators, walking next to a shoe boutique and a barber shop, you reminded yourself of the way outside. Your plans were definitely different from this, and getting lost in a mall was also not included on the list so you tried your best way to walk where you remembered the right side entrance to be. With most of the people left by now, the 21nth hour was quickly approaching, and a many of trail scents left behind confused you even more.

More tears sprung up to your eyes, and your vision got even blurrier. Not having any scents to stick to, as the ones that were around when you walked to the pharmacy were exchanged for different ones, you were left in a sensory overload, not even noticing when a man bristly walked towards you.

„Hey.., hey, what's going on? What's wrong?” He bended to your eye level so you stood face to face. A white facemask was covering his face, so only his eye peeked through under his dark, long hair. A plain black newsboy cap matched with the long, thick coat that went bellow his bended knees. You looked away, just when your overwhelmed nose smelled that he was an alpha. A mixture of rain and a hint of levander that seemed to become more prominent every passing second. He was trying to calm you with his scent.

A small whimper broke out from your throat unwillingly. Your brain was just taking in bit too much for you to be able to process everything. Your scarf dampen with more tears falling onto it. The man hand quickly held your right arm, his other hand prying your fingers open, so you couldn't clutch your hands and accidently scratched yourself. He cooed at you and rubbed your arm while still holding your hand, squeezing just the smallest bit.

„...Hm? What is it?”

Looking up, you accidentally made eye contact, only to get yourself more stressed out. You were always taught to beware of any unknown people, especially alphas, and making an eye contact could be interpreted as a 'sure, let's get it on'.

His concerned eyes shocked you enough to stay like that for a bit longer. They were a lot cat like, and his eyebrows were furrowed, but not in a threatening way, no, it was worry.

„I was- was at the phar-macy..” you mumbled only to sob loudly, and your shoulders to start to shake. You looked at his facemask, trying to focus anywhere but at the alpha's eyes. Noticing you doing so, in a quick motion he pulled the mask bellow his chin, only to reveal a soft looking nose and full lips, left open just the slightest bit in focus.

His tongue darted out to lick them fastly, and he shuffled a bit closer, so the levander scent was even more prominent. „At the pharmacy? Did someone tell you something bad there? Do you not have enough money for your medicine?” His voice felt calming, but held a feeling of urgency in it. He stood back up, only to look behind you towards the store you came from just about two minutes ago.

„N-No.. that's not - it... My prescrb- prescrt-” stumbling over the word you whined softly, angry with yourself. This was really not what you needed to happen right now.

„Prescription kitty. What's with it? Had it already expired?” once again he lowered himself back down, but didn't let go of your hand and arm even once. Softly rubbing his thumb over your hand, he once again cooed at you.

„Need pack al-pha...” you cried out softly and looked at the floors. Frowning even deeper, he let go of your arm and pulled out his phone from his pocket. His other hand just pulled you a little closer, so his scent was even clearer.

The man fumbled with it for a few seconds, pressed it to his ear and waited, as the faint sound of ringing could be heard. A soft beep sound and another strangers voice went through, not loud enough for you to decipher.

„hey, where are you?”

„No, listen, I need you to come to the lowest floor, um- there is a,” whipping his head around he looked at the stores around us, „hairdresser shop here and uhh.. a pharmacy too, look just can you hurry please?”

„Ill tell you here, it's an omega .... Jimin-ah are you a fucking idiot?! Who said anything about heat? Aish..! Just hurry up, could you?”

For a second his scent got covered with a burning grass, a smell of agitation. Just as quickly as it came it was gone thought. Pocketing his phone once again, he looked back at you.

„My packmate is going to come here in a bit okay?” his voice once again soft.

„P-Packmate?” your eyes blew wide, only for more tears to come. What did that mean? Was they about to do something? Your worried thoughts circled your mind.

„Yea, but don't worry, okay? He's very-”

„Yah, hyung, what is it? What's going on?” you heard another man, only to be hit with another alpha scent, reminding you of soft vanilla blooms. „Gosh her scent is sweet..” he said lowly, so you hardly understood what he was saying. Looking up, you were met with eyes of another man. This time, circled rimmed glasses and a black face mask pretty much covered his whole face, only a small bit of his black hair peeking through underneath his dark grey beanie. A long, dark green trenchcoat with a crossbody purse like bag adored his body, making his shoulders stand out.

„I don't know...”

„Whats your name 'mega?” the newcomer asked, bending slightly to match your height too.

„..Y/N” you said as you looked away again. All of the scents were confusing you, and you shuffled at your feet. You could sense your flight or fight instincts start to come in, with how long you have been unsettled.

„..okay. Okay.” he sighed out. „My name is Yoongi, and that's Jimin. Kitty, where is your pack? Why are you here alone like this?”

You took a longer pause, too overwhelmed to answer quickly. It must have been bit too long for them thought.

„Hyung-”

„I don't ha-ve a p-pack..” sniffling, you avoided their gaze, hiding more into the scarf.

„..Well shit.” Jimin muttered, exchanging anxious looks with Yoongi.

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ੈ✩‧₊˚✧˚ · .*ੈ✩‧₊˚

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts a/b/o #bts omegaverse #bts imagine #bts yoongi #bts jimin #hybrid bts #bts imagines #bts army #fanfic #strangers to lovers #a/b/o #omegaverse #bts smut #kpop smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts soulmate au

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wardenparker · 9 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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persevereforahappyending · 9 months

Text

He Hung Up (Christmas)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: “Christmas is literally in a few days, is the plan for them to stay through Christmas as well?”

Warnings: None

Word Count: 6k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Sam trudged up the stairs to her apartment, sighing as she got her keys ready. She just got off a long shift and wanted nothing more than to just relax. She wasn’t big on Christmas, but she was looking forward to the time off and spending time with her sister, it had been a long time since they got to spend Christmas together. Sam doesn’t really count last year because there was still a lot of recovering from Ghostface going on. She knew this year wouldn’t be perfect, but she was hoping it might be better, maybe she and Tara could make new memories and Christmas could become something they enjoyed again. She knew she was part of Tara’s dislike of the holidays, first their dad left and then Sam left. Sam had a lot of make-up to do.

The college was already on winter break but given Sam’s job she hadn’t gotten to spend any time with her sister, she barely got started on her Christmas shopping. Chad and Mindy left the first day of break, which happened to be the day after Tara’s birthday. Sam was glad the twins got to spend Tara’s birthday with her, it ended up being a fun night. The next day they flew back to California to spend the break with their mom. They all agreed to do a Christmas together when the twins got back, which just meant Sam had more time to pick something good out for them. She was hoping to get a little input from Tara, she wanted to do something football related for Chad and horror related for Mindy but despite her father being a serial killer that spawned a popular horror franchise she didn’t know shit about horror.

Danny also flew back to his hometown to be with his parents. So, the only thing keeping Sam from getting to spend the holidays alone with her sister was you. As Sam’s keys jingled, unlocking her apartment, she heard what she had been hearing every day since the break started, you. You had been over every day since the break started. The only good thing was that most days you left and went back to your own apartment, not that it mattered because you stayed all night and then were back by morning, sometimes Sam was eating breakfast, and you were already there, knocking on the door. Sam was trying to be nice though, it was the holidays and she’d hopefully have Christmas Day just her and her sister.

When Sam pushed open the door, she saw you and Tara curled up on the couch watching a movie as you not so quietly talked to each other. Sam glanced at the TV to see Gremlins playing. “Gremlins?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah!” You exclaimed, looking at her like it was the most obvious choice for them to be watching. “It’s the best Christmas movie.”

Sam was taken aback giving you a look like you had two heads. “How is-”

“Don’t,” Tara tried to warn her.

“That a Christmas movie?” Sam continued her question.

“Well, you see Samantha,” you started, earning a quick glare from Sam, she hated when someone called her Samantha. “Gizmo,” you pointed to the little fuzzy guy who was currently on the screen, “was a Christmas present.” You clasped your hands together as if you were presenting a project. “The whole movie takes place around Christmas time. They’re decorating the tree, making Christmas cookies, and the gremlins even dress up like carolers.” You let out a satisfied huff at the end of your reasoning.

“But people are attacked and some of them even die,” she tried to argue. She wasn’t sure why she was playing into your game.

“People are attacked in home alone, but everyone considers that a Christmas movie,” you fired back.

“But there’s no death!”

You scoffed, waving off the claim. “Gremlins only has off screen deaths, those don’t count. Also, all that shit Kevin did? Those two guys should have been dead.”

“Whatever,” Sam said shaking her head. She saw your reasoning and it was pretty logical, not that she’d ever tell you that. She still wasn’t sure if she’d considered it a Christmas movie.

Sam tossed her stuff down and made her way into the kitchen, opening the fridge to see what she could make for dinner. “Oh,” Tara called out from the kitchen. “Can Y/N stay for dinner?”

Sam sighed, closing the fridge, and moving to stand in the doorway. “Again?” Sam asked some of her annoyance from the week slipping in.

“Yeah?” Tara asked, turning to face Sam. “What’s the issue?” Tara wasn’t glaring at Sam, yet, but Sam could hear the slight annoyed tone. Tara always got that tone when she didn’t get her way, specifically when it came to you.

“They’ve been here an awfully lot this week,” Sam started, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.

“So? It’s Christmas break.”

“That doesn’t mean they have to spend every second of every day here.” Sam ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “They’re usually just leaving by the time I’m going to bed and then they’re back knocking on the door before I leave for work.”

“So what?” Tara was now on her feet, arms crossed and glaring at Sam. “You haven’t been home, and I don’t feel like spending all day alone. Who cares if they’re here all day?”

“Christmas is literally in a few days, is the plan for them to stay through Christmas as well?”

“Maybe!”

“No,” Sam snapped. She didn’t mean to be so harsh; all the weeks of stress have just been building up. She hadn’t expected an answer and the fact that Tara didn’t see a problem in you crashing their Christmas sent her over the edge. “That’s where I draw the line.”

“What are you saying?” Tara matched her sister’s anger. “I can’t spend Christmas with them? They’re not allowed to come over and see me?”

“I want one day! One day of just you and me! I figured Christmas could be that day. We could finally spend a Christmas together, just the two of us.”

“What about what I want?”

“Don’t they have a family to go see over Christmas and they want to spend time with?” Sam saw a flash of something in your eyes, but she was to focused on Tara to recognize what it was.

“God! You-”

“Actually,” you spoke softly cutting Tara off as you slowly rose to your feet, gently resting a hand on her arm. “I’m headed back home tomorrow.”

“What?” Tara whipped around. Sam almost got whiplash from how fast Tara went from angry to hurt. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know I was having fun with you; I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You leave tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but I’ll call you every day and I’m getting back the day after Christmas.”

Tara crossed her arms pouting. “I was hoping to give you your present on Christmas Day.”

“I’m sorry,” you looked at her sadly. “I wish I could give you yours Christmas Day as well, but we can do Christmas the day after, yeah?” You smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Just me and you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I guess.” Tara was still pouting but she seemed slightly less upset. “I still wish you would’ve had told me.”

“It’s not like it’s going to be fun. I’m not going to be doing anything, really.”

“Then why do you have to go?” Sam wanted to roll her eyes, of course Tara would try and convince you to not go to your families for Christmas.

“Spending time with family is important, right?” You raised your eyebrows, staring Tara down to make her agree with you. Sam didn’t know how you did it, you always got Tara to agree with you. If Sam had said any of the stuff you did, Tara would be nonstop, making nothing into a monstrous fight.

“Yeah,” Tara sighed. “I’m still going to miss you.”

“Me too,” you rest a hand on the side of her face, caressing her cheek. “Besides we still have tonight,” you looked up at Sam, silently asking her if that was still okay. Sam nodded; she could tolerate you one more night since it meant you wouldn’t be around for a few days.

“I guess,” Tara mumbled, wrapping her arms around your waist before burying her head in your shirt. You instantly wrapped your arms around her, pulling her in for a tighter hug. Sam wanted to roll her eyes, the two of you were acting like you weren’t going to see each other for months not a few days.

“Come on, lets finish the movie.” You kissed the top of Tara’s head, keeping one arm wrapped around her as you pulled away and led her back down to the couch.

**************************************

The next few days did not go as Sam had imagined. She had still been working crazy hours and after work she spent the night going from store to store searching for a present for Tara. She had a gift card at the ready to give to Tara, but she wanted something more personal. Tara had also been silently hostile towards her since you left. Sam was trying not to start anything; she was just hoping Tara’s mood would lighten by Christmas day. The only good thing was that Tara wasn’t actively seeking arguments with her, she was just pouting and giving Sam short responses. Every night Tara was on her phone either texting or talking to you. Sam knew it was young love or whatever, but you guys had just seen each other. She herself had barely talked to Danny since he left, they texted a few times but neither one of them was glued to their phone.

As she walked the streets of New York, searching for a shop she hadn’t already been in, something that would call to her, something that screamed Tara, she passed by a bakery. Sam stopped, looking in the window at all the Christmas themed baked goods, there were cakes decorated with snowflakes, cupcakes with little Santas, and various cookies decorated. Sam ripped open the door, stepped into the shop and purchased a dozen cookies. All the cookies looked great but before she could walk away from the window, she noticed some of them were decorated with characters or quotes from various Christmas movies.

As she continued to walk down the street, the box of cookies under her arm, she thought back to her childhood. Sam didn’t like thinking about her childhood, most of her memories were tainted by the lies of her mom, her dad leaving, the truth of her birth father, and the guilt she felt for leaving her sister. When she was younger and Tara was just a little kid who loved following her around things were good, they were happy. Christmas used to be a magical time for them, every Christmas eve they would spend the day baking cookies to leave out for Santa. A part of Sam wanted to bring that back, maybe not the leaving the cookies out for Santa part but the making their own cookies. Besides loving to eat the cookie dough, Sam remembered how big of a smile Tara had on her face, usually covered in flower, when they would make the cookies. Part of Sam worried about bringing it up to Tara, she knew Christmas wasn’t great after she left and Sam didn’t want to try and force old memories, just because she thought it’d be fun didn’t mean Tara would.

Sam sighed, she had been out a little later than usual and she hadn’t seen a single shop that seemed interesting. She was about to turn around when a life-size Wolfman figure caught her eye. She looked at the store front, seeing the windows filled with other movie related memorabilia and posters. She shrugged, deciding there was no harm in giving the little store a shot and opened the door. She knew it was the holidays, it was the day before Christmas eve and the store was closing soon so she was going to do a quick look around and see if anything jumped out at her.

The store was small but was stuffed full, wall to wall, ceiling to floor, there was product everywhere. There were posters, action fingers, DVD sets, a wide range of TV shows and movies. As Sam weaved her way through the rows of shelves she finally came to the register where there was a display case of collectibles. There seemed to be higher valued collectibles, things way out of her price range, but there were also knives and other weapons. The weapons were horror themed though, they were the same style from whatever movie they were from and then they had the villain of the movie etched into the blade. Sam’s eyes grazed over the Ghostface knife and landed on a Friday the 13th machete. The machete had Jason from different scenes etched all down the blade. Sam smiled at the old man behind the counter and pointed to the machete.

When Sam left the shop, she had some slight reservations about buying Tara a weapon. Luckily for her the man assured her the blade was dull and was meant to be a display piece more than anything. Sam made a note of where the shop was, she would have to take Tara there one day and she was tempted to come back and get the Michael Myers knife for Mindy as a gift.

As Sam juggled the box of cookies in one hand and Tara’s present in another, she caught a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye. She stopped dead in her tracks, turning to do a double take. Her mouth fell open, her brow furrowed as she watched you walk out of a pizza shop, pizza box in hand as you made your way in the direction of your dorm. Sam watched you from across the street, Tara hadn’t mentioned anything about you coming back to town early. Sam also hadn’t noticed any evidence of you being in the apartment since the night you left.

When Sam finally got back to the apartment, she kicked the door closed, making sure to hide the bag with Tara’s present. She heard Tara on the phone but paid her no attention as she rushed to her room to hide the present, dropping the box of cookies on the dining room table on the way. She quickly shoved Tara’s present in her closet, planning to wrap it before she went to bed, then made her way back out to the living room.

“Alright, night,” Tara said, smiling into her phone. “Have fun with your family and I can’t wait to see you when you get back.” Sam watched curiously as Tara waited for, Sam assumed you, to respond. “Love you too.” With that she hung up the phone and looked up at Sam with a confused look. “What?”

“Was that Y/N?” Sam questioned, turning her back to Tara to open the box of cookies.

“Yeah,” Tara sighed. Sam could see Tara’s pout without having to turn around.

“They still out of town visiting their parents?” Sam looked up, internally smacking herself, she was trying and failing at being subtle.

“Yeah.” She heard Tara leave the couch, her feet quietly shuffling as she made her way next to Sam. “Said it was kind of boring there and has only really been watching Christmas movies.” Sam could only hum in response, she couldn’t figure out why you didn’t go home for the holiday and more importantly she couldn’t figure out why you were lying to Tara about it. “Whatcha got there?” Tara nodded to the box.

Sam smiled, flipping open the lid of the box. “No way!” Tara said, reaching out and grabbing a cookie. “These are so cool. Where did you find them?” Tara mumbled through a mouth full of cookie.

Sam giggled, shaking her head at her sister. “Passed a bakery on the way home. Are they good?” Tara nodded, giving her a thumbs up.

Tara grabbed another cookie and plopped herself back down on the couch. Sam tapped her fingers against the dining room table, working up the courage to ask Tara what she wanted to. She grabbed a cookie, taking a bite as she sat in the chair next to the couch. She glanced at the TV to see Tara watching The Grinch.

“So…” Sam started off slowly, looking down at her cookie, it was a really good cookie. She flicked her eyes from Tara, who was already looking at her, to the TV, and back to Tara. “I get it if you don’t want to do it, but I was wondering if you wanted to make cookies tomorrow, like we used to do.”

Sam flicked her gaze from her cookie to Tara a few times, waiting for her sister to respond. Tara was looking down at her cookie, her brow furrowed as she was deep in thought. “We don’t have to,” Sam said softly, trying to reassure Tara that it was totally fine if she didn’t want to do it.

“No,” Tara said with a small head shake, finally looking at Sam again. “I’d like that actually, it sounds fun.”

“Great,” Sam smiled and turned her attention back to the TV. Which is how they spent the night, sitting in a peaceful silence, watching whatever Christmas movie popped up next.

***********************************

It was Christmas eve, Sam was off work, she had Tara’s present wrapped, they had plans to bake cookies later in the day, and everything was going perfectly just like Sam had always wanted. Sam couldn’t stop the nagging feeling at the back of her head though. She made breakfast for herself, and Tara and they were halfway through their second Christmas movie when she suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. Sam jumped to her feet, grabbed her keys, and walked to the door.

“I’ll be back,” she said, looking back at Tara before opening the door.

“Wait what,” Tara said, muting the TV. “Where are you going? I thought we were spending the day together?”

“We will, I just have to run out real quick, I forgot to pick something up.”

“I thought you wanted to make cookies,” Tara frowned.

“I do,” Sam smiled softly at her sister. “We will make them as soon as I get back. You’re going to like what I bring back.” Tara continued to pout. “Trust me, please, I promise you, you will love it.”

“Okay,” Tara mumbled quietly, curling up on the couch as she unmuted the TV.

Sam gave her sister one last look before rushing out the door. As a surprise to no one, the streets were bustling with people doing last-minute Christmas shopping. Sam pushed her way through the crowded streets, making her way to the college campus. There were hardly any students on campus, most having returned home for the holidays. Sam easily found her way to your building and up to your dorm room. She did a few quick knocks on your door, then bounced from foot to foot as she waited for you to answer.

The door was quickly flung open and standing before Sam was you, your mouth hung open, whatever you were about to say dying on your lips as you just stared at Sam. Sam bunched up her hands in her pockets, looking at you expectantly.

“What are you doing here?” you finally asked.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked back, a little harsher than she intended. She couldn’t help it, you had a habit of just annoying her without even doing anything, she knew she had to work on that.

“I live here,” you said confused.

“Why are you lying to Tara?” Sam crossed her arms. “Why did you say you were going back home?”

You let out a defeated sigh. “You wanted Christmas to be the two of you,” you shrugged. “I didn’t want to intrude or ruin your Christmas.”

Sam’s eyes fell to the floor, it was so hard to dislike you when you were so considerate. You were kind of an asshole and Sam’s dislike was warranted half the time but deep down you were sweet. “Why didn’t you go home? Don’t your parents want to spend Christmas with you?”

You scoffed, refusing to meet Sam’s eyes as you looked down at the floor. “My parents haven’t spent Christmas at home since I was thirteen and deemed old enough to not burn the house down when left alone.” Sam frowned, she knew you didn’t talk about your parents much, Tara had said they weren’t super active in your life, but she didn’t realize how distant they actually were. “I don’t even know where they are right now,” you shrugged. “Somewhere warm.”

“Let’s go,” is all Sam said, turning to leave.

“Wait what?” you leaned half your body out the door.

Sam turned around, rolling her eyes at you. “Grab whatever you need and come on,” she waved her hand impatiently. “You’re spending Christmas with us.”

“Nononono,” you shook your head. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“Get your shit and come on,” she snapped.

You quickly shut your mouth, ran back into your dorm, and came out with two presents in less than a minute. You silently walked behind Sam as she led the way back to the apartment. She never thought she’d say it, but it was actually unsettling how quiet you were being. When the two of you got back to the apartment, she went in first, tossing her keys on the table before closing the door behind you.

“What did you have to get?” Tara asked, not taking her eyes off the TV. Sam didn’t answer, making Tara look up, her eyes becoming confused when she saw you but quickly lit up. “What are you doing here?” she jumped up, running, and crashing into you for a hug. Sam shook her head; it hadn’t even been a week since you were here and yet Tara was acting like it was a lifetime.

“I never had plans to go to my parents,” you admitted, dropping your eyes to the floor in shame.

“What?” Tara asked, there was no anger in her voice, only confusion.

“They aren’t big on Christmas; I never spend it with them. I didn’t want to intrude and ruin Christmas for you guys,” you looked back at Sam. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel bad, I knew you’d try and convince me to join you guys.”

Tara lightly punched you in the shoulder before pulling you in for another hug. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into your neck.

Once Tara and you separated, the two of you followed Sam into the kitchen. Sam grabbed the ingredients and the three of you made cookie dough. You and Tara threw flour at each other, making a mess and though Sam would usually be annoyed she couldn’t help but laugh along with you guys. She’s pretty sure the three of you ate more of the cookie dough than you used to make cookies. When there were finally enough cookies to fill the tray, they popped them into the oven and moved to the living room, popping on another Christmas movie as they waited for the cookies to be ready.

When the oven dinged, you and Tara raced to the kitchen, nearly forgetting oven mitts as you moved to pull the cookies out. Sam had to push the two of you back before the two of you started grabbing the cookies off the hot tray before they had the chance to cool. She shooed the two of you back to the living room, forcing you both to wait for the cookies to cool before you all started eating and decorating them. With how excited the two of you were Sam wasn’t sure you guys would be able to wait to start decorating, you and Tara would probably eat all the cookies plain.

That’s how the three of you spent the rest of the night. You all decorated cookies together at the dining room table, eating cookies in the processes. Sam was focused on her decorating but every time she looked up, she saw you licking icing off your fingers, she wasn’t sure if you ever finished decorating one cookie. When all the cookies were eaten or decorated the three of you retired to the living room, Sam taking her usual spot in the chair while you and Tara cuddled up on the couch.

**********************************

Sam woke up Christmas morning to the smell of something delicious cooking. She rubbed her eyes, frowning at who could possibly be cooking so early. It wasn’t that Tara was a bad cook, she had to learn to cook after Sam left but she had never made anything smell this good. Sam couldn’t judge though; it wasn’t like she was a master chef either, she knew how to make enough things to allow them to survive and give them some variety, but they still did takeout the majority of the time.

Sam ran a hand through her hair as she walked down the hall and into the kitchen, she stopped, blinking a few times to try and clear her vision, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, you were in her kitchen, cooking, and it smelled good. Sam looked around, seeing you were making use of the entire stove, cooking eggs, bacon and sausage, and pancakes at the same time. You flipped three pancakes onto a plate that already had a few, before pouring more batter into the pan, making three more pancakes.

“Morning,” you said, when you finally saw Sam. You kept your pace though, sprinkling cheese across the eggs before flipping it over, creating an omelet, then added more cheese on top. “We got pancakes,” you gestured to the plate beside you. “And eggs,” you gestured to the pan in front of you, before sliding the omelet onto a plate when the cheese was sufficiently melted. “And bacon and sausage,” you pointed to the other pan that was sizzling. “What would you like?”

Sam blinked a few times, still processing the site in front of her, it was just breakfast food, but everything looked so good, perfect almost, nothing was burnt. “An omelet, please,” Sam said, finally finding her voice.

You nodded, cracking another two eggs into the pan. “You guys didn’t have a ton of options but let me know what you want in it.”

Sam looked across the counter at the options, there was actually more than she thought there would be. “Just tomato and spinach.”

You gave a quick thumbs up before flipping the pancakes. You grabbed another plate, dumping all the bacon and sausage onto it. Tara came in, grabbing the plate of bacon and sausage and two separate plates with omelets.

“Morning,” Tara mumbled, taking the plates to the dining room table.

“Morning,” Sam replied, still watching you cook. She watched as you added the veggies to her omelet, flipped the omelet and added more cheese and veggies to the top of it. You flipped the pancakes onto the plate, Tara at your side the instant you were done and already taking the plate to the table. You quickly finished the omelet, sliding it onto a plate and holding it out to Sam with a smile.

Sam looked from the omelet up to you and back down to the omelet. She hesitantly took the plate but had to admit it looked just as good as everything else. “You can cook?” she couldn’t help but ask.

You just shrugged, turning off the stove as you followed Sam into the dining room. Sam set her plate down, taking a seat and got a full look at the table. The plate of pancakes, sausage and bacon, and a plate of toast was already laid out in the middle of the table.

“They can cook breakfast at least,” Tara said, shoving a fork full of omelet into her mouth. “Everything else, that’s debatable.” You scoffed, stabbing your fork into Tara’s omelet, and stealing a bite, she quickly slapped your hand, throwing a grumpy glare at you, making you chuckle.

“Thanks,” Sam said, looking down at the omelet.

You shrugged again. “It was the least I could do.”

Sam took a small bite of her omelet, and it was amazing, she hated how good of a cook you were. She almost wanted to say you could spend the night any night as long as you made breakfast in the morning. The three of you sat in a comfortable silence eating breakfast, slowly waking up the rest of the way. By the time you were all done almost everything was gone, except for a couple pancakes left over. Sam sighed, she hadn’t had breakfast that good in a long time, the diner she worked at didn’t even make breakfast that good.

The three of you moved into the living room, grabbing presents from under the little tree the sisters had put up. Tara and Sam exchanged gifts and then you handed Tara a little wrapped box, Sam was silently praying that it wasn’t a ring again. Her mouth fell opening as she looked up at you with questioning eyes when you handed her a present as well.

“Why is hers bigger?” Tara questioned, whipping her head around to look at you, holding the present she had gotten you out of reached.

You just chuckled at her. “Yours is more expensive?” you offered.

She narrowed her eyes at you but handed you the present. You happily took it, giving her a quick kiss. Without wasting any time Tara was ripping into the present you had gotten her. When she was done, she held a small jewelry box in her hand, it wasn’t a ring box though. Breakfast was good but if you had gotten Tara another ring Sam probably would have killed you. Tara lifted the lid, letting out a light gasp at the sight, she lifted the item out of the box to reveal a necklace. The necklace had a silver chain connected to a silver pendant with her birthstone in the center, it matched the ring you had gotten for her birthday. Sam might have hated the ring at first, but she had to admit you had good taste in jewelry. Tara held out the necklace for you, moving her hair so you could place it around her neck.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, pulling you in for a long kiss, acting as if Sam wasn’t still sitting right there. “Thank you.”

Tara then ripped into her present from Sam, letting out an exciting gasp at the machete. “This is awesome!” she held up the machete, a crazy look in her eye. Your eyes widened, instantly going to Sam, silently asking her if she was serious.

“It’s not sharp,” Sam quickly said. She could see you physically relax as she calmed your fears.

Tara pouted a little at the new knowledge but still twirled the machete in her hand, looking closely at the etching. “This is so cool,” Tara said again. “Thank you.”

You opened your present from Tara, jumping to your feet to reveal two videogames. Sam had no idea what the games were, but you were acting like a little kid, so she assumed her sister did a pretty good job. “Thanks babe,” you said, giving Tara a quick kiss, making her blush.

It was Sam’s turn; she slowly opened her present from Tara. “Holy shit,” she whispered as she took out the little box. Tara had gotten her ear buds, she had been looking at a pair forever because she wanted some for when she went for a run or to the gym, but she could never pull the trigger, they were always too expensive for her to justify. “Thank you.”

As Sam started to unwrap the box you had gotten her, she caught a mischievous smirk on your face. Sam almost paused her movements; she couldn’t even imagine what you had gotten her let alone what would cause that kind of smile on your face. Sam undid the rest of the wrapping paper, looking down at the box in front of her, she blinked a few times before glaring at you. You were smiling widely, nearly bouncing up in down in your seat.

“You’re an ass,” is all Sam said. She turned the box, revealing Woodsboro Monopoly, making you break out into laugh. Tara quickly slapped you but there was a small smile tugging at her lips as well.

“I’m sorry,” you said through laughter. “I couldn’t help myself,” you were practically wheezing. “I’ve had that for months.”

Sam couldn’t help but join in, lightly laughing at the game. “You know we did never get to finish our game.”

Your eyes lit up. “Yes!” you pumped a fist into the air.

“But I get to be the knife,” Sam said in a serious voice.

“Well, I’d expect nothing less.” Sam glared at your light jab. “I want to be the phone though.”

Tara groaned, rolling her eyes. “This means we have to suffer through another game of Monopoly,” she mumbled.

You gasped in offense. “It’s not my fault we were rudely interrupted last time,” you said.

Sam shook her head as she listened to you and Tara argued back and forth. Tara might hate monopoly, but it was only a matter of time before she conceded. You would probably even convince her to wait for the twins to be back and would probably drag Danny over and force everyone to play the new version they now had for game night. Sam relaxed into her chair, watching as you and Tara argued with smiles, you were slowly growing on her, not that she’d ever tell you that.

After presents the rest of the day was uneventful. The three of you just spent a lazy day lounging in the apartment, watching Christmas movies on TV again, even though you all had seen all of them within the last few days. When night finally came, Tara was curled into your side, your arm wrapped tightly around her as she was sound asleep with her head resting on your shoulder.

“Night,” Sam whispered, getting up to head to bed herself.

“Wait, Sam,” you called out, looking back but making sure not to turn enough to disturb Tara. Sam stopped in the doorway, looking back at you. “Thank you,” you whispered, dropping your eyes for a second before meeting hers again. “I really appreciate you inviting me over. This has really meant a lot.”

Sam nodded. “You’re always welcome here.” She looked away from you, opening and closing her mouth a few times. “Sorry, I kicked you out earlier.” You gave her a soft smile, shrugging lightly. “You’re now expected to join us every year,” she said in an annoyed tone, but you laughed, catching the playfulness underneath.

Sam went to bed that night with a smile. She had wanted Christmas day with just her and her sister but you joining them ended up making it better than she could have imagined. This ended up being the best Christmas she ever had, and Tara would probably agree with her. It seemed the cycle of tainted memories and disappointing Christmas’s were over; she was more than happy to make new memories with Tara and was even okay with you being in those new memories now.

You still annoyed the hell out of her, but she didn’t miss the way you brought a lightness to the group, even after everything that happened, even though you were still struggling, you managed to still find the humor in things. If Sam was being honest with herself, she was now looking forward to you joining her and Tara or the group for holidays, birthdays, and other big events. If anyone asked her if she were happy, you were there, she would deny it but inside, she was happy to have you around.

Taglist: @screechcat

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x fem!reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #he hung up #sam carpenter

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makncheese12 · 1 year

Text

Top Shelf

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: being the kid of a well-known book store owner was easy, so was running into famous people. But being book smart doesn’t make everyone people smart.

Warnings: my writing, language(bad words😯), my attempt at being funny, mention of gun shots and head shots, mentions of my favorite book(literally love Ruta Sepetys sm omg.

A/N: part 2? I am going to make you all suffer through the most oblivious slow burn. R if going to be so dumb/oblivious it’ll hurt you all🫶🏻

Word count - 3.6k

Credits: @novmoth (my friend from school who feeds into my delusions and gives me more ideas for this story🫶🏻)

(bare with me English is not my first language🥲 I’m getting help from my friend to edit it)

You were born to it.

The books. The films. The music and video games.

It was your life, literally. With your parents being owners of the infamous establishment called ‘top shelf’, you had no choice but to.

And you wouldn’t ever change.

Books upon books, movie after movie, games old and new and music that could last you weeks. Who would want to change such a life?

Your father was the first to start it.

He was poor man in Washington but had just enough money to buy it from the man who owned the small movie shop before he retired. He slowly started added book shelves and video games to the mix. Getting few customers but enough to survive day to day during the time of his early years

Your mother was a wealthy run away. Wanting something different and new in her life when she met your father. The man was playing on his game boy behind the counter before he saw her.

The poor boy and his run away wife, a classic really.

The rest after that is history.

As soon as they found out your mother was pregnant with you, they used the rest of her money they saved and went to New York where they bought the huge abandoned apartment complex.

They broke all the insides down and built what you now know as your second home. Hundreds of video games, films and music in one section and thousands of books in another.

Thus, Top Shelf was born only two weeks after you.

You met many friends there in the comfort section where students and business people worked as you all goofed off.

Your had also met your small friend group during your younger years, the four of you all never letting your father have the peace he wanted and dragging him all over New York.

With the thousands of books and hundreds of video games and films your parents sold, you had money. Lots of it.

But your mother made sure you never let that get the best of you, never. It went against everything she went for when she ran away.

She would make sure you would work for and earn everything you got, always.

She never let you have too much online activity, in case her family found you and made sure you were both street smart and book smart.

Your neighbors made sure you were street smart more than anything but you still gave her credit for trying.

Though, the book store was beautiful in every season. Winter was a favorite and when it was busiest. It was too your favorite.

Your father lighting the public fire place, your mother setting soft seasonal music, hell even the cheesy Christmas cartoons on the TV’s set the mood for the perfect bookstore vibe.

The lights dim just enough to where it almost felt like dark academy yet the plants that grew down the upstairs railing made the entire place feel more alive.

————

“Bullshit!” You yell out as you throw your head back onto the head rest of your chair, groaning loudly as the photo sound of your death snapped in your ears.

“Man, he’s fucking using cheats!” Dru calls out through the mic before his name pops up above to yours in dark red on the screen as you respawn.

“Of course he is, he’s a pussy.” Mj says, as her name, too, pops up on the screen.

“Oh come on, guys!” Lyle says through his staticky mic. “You all just suck.” He laughs

“Now I know your cheating, dude. Your mic is acting up again, just like last time!” Dru says, the sound of his voice booming louder than needed and you roll my eyes.

“DD, just because you like to replay games without using cheats doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” Lyle says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s multiplayer, stupid! It’s meant to be fair for everyone!” Dru says making you snort. “Says the guy who chases around little kids and steals their horses making them cry.” Mj says making Dru blow into his mic making loud, unnecessary noises.

“Quit that!” You say taking one head phone off your ear. “Tsk tsk tsk,” Lyle starts. “Such a sore loser.”

“I’ll show you sore loser, get on Elden ring and we’ll test your irritation.” Dru says, mic now muffled by his own spit.

“Your tank build is not enough to stop me, comet azur will always save the day.” He says in a sing-song voice.

“And you call me a try hard, yet you’re the one always using a broken spell.” Dru complains. “Theres nothing I have to try hard at when I can just hold a simple button.” The sound of Dru’s groans become louder as his spit clears out from his Mic. “Same thing!”

You laugh once again before picking up your phone and looking at the time.

“Shit!” Your eyes go wide at the sight, 8:48 AM.

You quickly throw the head set off and push yourself out of the chair, opening your closet grabbing a quick pair of jeans and a hoodie before rushing to put it all on.

Your cat skids across the floor, startled by your sudden movements before a crashing in the your pile of books and out the door.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble as you jump up and down to put on your shoes, failing at not falling and race toward the door. “Sorry!” You call to your cat who yells at you next to his food bowl.

You grab your keys and rush out the door before slamming it shut and locking it.

“Ay, y/n!” Your neighbor, Rosa, shouts from beside her door. “Quiet will you! I just put Nona to sleep!” She yells raising her news paper tapping your head with it.

“Sorry! sorry, Señora Rosa.” You whisper yell as you try to push her weaponized hand away. “I’m just a little late.”

“And I just got a moment of peace! Quiet!” She says giving you one last wack making you try and shrink away from her as you rush toward the stairs.

“You got your pepper spray, right?” She calls and you raise your key chain to show her the attached small can. “¡Buena niña!”

You rush down the stairs and push passed the glass door, almost slipping on the ice before running down the street.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket making you quickly take it out.

“Hello?” You ask without knowing who it was.

“Arthur Morgan would be very disappointed at your sudden disappearance from an important mission.” Lyle says before sighing.

“It’s multiplayer, there are no main missions.” You say, trying to avoid the ice on the ground before stopping at the red hand across the street. “Plus, we were in the middle of four way 1v1. He’d be more upset that we were going against each other.”

“Loyalty is everything in such a game,” he says, sarcasm in his voice and you imagine him shaking his head. “Of course he would be upset at my bullet in DD’s head.”

“Why’d you call me exactly?” You ask watching the hand turn into a green man walking before taking off again.

“Well, you just yelled ‘shit!’ Before disappearing on us, had to make sure someone didn’t break in and kill you.” He replies casually as if he knew that weren’t the case. “But after hearing you continue on your ‘shit’ rant and the door slam I figured it was okay, just had to call and make sure, y’know?”

“Ever heard of a text, loser?” You ask, barley missing a man walking and looking down at his phone. “Gross,” he says before making a gagging noise. “why waste such time typing when I can simply just hit one button?”

“You’re so lazy.” You laugh out loud as you run across another street. “Work smarter not harder, Y/N. You should know this with that big brain of yours.”

“What if I want to work both smarter and harder?” You ask, running up to the glass window to see the books lined up. “Well, then your just weird.” You roll your eyes.

“Just kidding. I guess you can do both, I just personally prefer the alternative.” He says as the sound of guns shooting fills the phone. “Yeah, also sorry about leaving.” You say pushing into the store being greeting with the familiar smell of books and the warm smile of my mother.

“I forgot I had to get ready for work.”

“You’re at top shelf?” He ask and you reply with a ‘mhm’. “I might stop by later to say hello actually, I need a new game anyway.” He laughs as the sound of Dru yelling in the back ground becomes more prominent.

“Sounds good, see you loser” You say as you take your sweat shirt off, leaving you in your tank top you hand before leaving. “Later,” you hear him say before hanging up.

“Good morning,” you hear your mother say as you pull the staff sweat shirt over your head and pull up your sleeves. “Mornin’,” you reply before kissing her cheek.

“Wheres dad?” You ask looking around before your eyes setting on the woman stack a pile of books into one pile.

“He’s going to be out of town for a few days,” she says carrying the pile to the check back station. “A vacation, I insisted as I continue your training.” She says making you smile.

“We both know he needs it, he’s getting older.” She says and your smile fades as you nod. “So are you.” You mumble and she, too, nods.

“You know him getting old is different from me getting old.” She states, sighing quietly.

“What’s todays task?” You ask, quickly changing the subject at the sight of her sad frown. She looks at you for a moment before smiling once again.

She moves to storage closet and unlocks it, allowing you to see the boxes upon boxes along with stacks of different other things.

“To be a good store owner, you have to know your customers.” She says returning with a large box that you quickly take from her.

“Just put it on that table — and to know your customers, you must socialize and help them throughout the store.” She finishes as you take the box to the table noticing the label romance written across it.

“That also means having to work while helping the customers, so you’ll be on stock duty as well.” She says with a smile.

Yes.

You mentally say to yourself. Stock duty required work of you finding the places of different books, movies and games which also meant finding new things you didn’t know about before.

“One more thing,” you mother says as she walks behind the counter to finish opening up the store. “No head phones.” Your eyes go wide.

“But ma!” You call out to the lady who switches the sign from closed to open. “What else am I supposed to do when I stock!” You call, holding onto the white cords and swinging them around.

“Help the customers and socialize.” She laughs out making you frown. “I should call CPS.” You mumble carrying the box to the sorted area before hearing the woman’s laugh.

“Sure, call ahead but don’t be disappointed when they decline a twenty year old.”

You roll your eyes before continuing down the aisle.

“And after you sort those, get the others out of the storage closet!” You huff quietly as you glance back with a small playful glare on your face.

“If I wanted to work out, I would have gone to the gym.” You say and she rolls her eyes. “You’ll be just as sore in the morning, trust me.”

————

Hours hand passed, since you last seen the romance box having moved on to the horror section of the films.

You search through their placement areas, looking at all the old cinematic master pieces, the many Dracula films placed neatly next to each other, in order of both year and name.

Horror was one of the favorites when coming here, your father being a collected through his years he had many people couldn’t get their hands on.

Sure you could watch it online now but where’s the fun in that when you have a real copy with the static noises and written voices on screen. Some people still had some class left in them.

You hear a book hit the floor making the library echo as heads turned toward the cause of the sudden interruption of their silence.

“Shit—” You hear someone say quietly, making you roll your eyes as you place the rest of the CD’s in their rightful places before making your way toward the aisle the noise came from.

You subtly make your way toward the aisle while acting like your checking the books before taking a peek around the corner.

You see a rather short girl — shorter than the third shelf — craning her neck to look up at all the books in front of her.

Just to your luck, your mother placed a box for that genre next to the end of the shelf and you picked it up.

You make your way down the aisle and set the box toward the middle before looking up the girl who was already staring, and boy was she something.

Freckles littered across her tan skin, strands of her short hair fell from her half up half down style, her eyes — damn her eyes — they were the prettiest brown you’ve ever seen.

You smile lightly before picking up the first book and reading both the authors name and the title while trying to slow down your racing heart.

Who was this girl? Matter of fact, what was she? She wasn’t a regular, that’s for sure but you always get random people coming in so it didn’t exactly matter.

After putting away a few books, you glance up to see the girl a few feet away and on her tippy toes, reaching for a book on the fifth or sixth shelf.

You snorted quietly catching the girls attention making you quickly look away to keep yourself from laughing.

“You think this is funny?” She asks and you begin shaking in quiet laughter.

After a few moments, you compose yourself and stand shaking your head.

“No, not at all. Would you like some help?” You ask taking step toward her. She narrows her eyes. “Are you making fun of me right now?” She asks, both amusement and annoyance in her voice.

“Why would I do that? It’s poor customer service.” You say with a smile before watching her own smile grow.

“It’s poor customer service to laugh at a customer.” She mumbles before stepping back. “Please.” You walk up and grab the book.

“Look how easy that was.” She says, taking the book you held out for her. “Being six-foot-two does have its perks.” She says looking over the back of the book.

You roll your eyes but your smile only grows. Looking down at the book you nod and raise your eye brows, “that’s a good one, read it a few years back.” You say, making your way back to box of books.

“I’d hope so, for all the work I had to do to try and get it.” She mumbles making you smile and shake your head. “Anything else good?” She asks, looking down to you.

“You’re asking me if there’s anything else good in here when there’s just by the look of it thousands of books here?” You ask, smirking at her when she rubs the back of her neck.

“Yes, there is, I’ve read more than I can count. My recommendation board is up by the front desk if you want to check it out.” You say before placing crave by Tracy Wolff into the slot.

“You must have come here a lot before working then? If you’ve read so many books from here.” She asks, following hot on your trail with the book tucked between her arm. “Oh, for sure,” you say nodding. “The owners and I are real close, we were together a whole nine months before I was born.”

Her eyes widen slightly at the information. “You’re parents own this place?” She asks, gesturing to the entire book store and you nod, smiling.

It felt like you were a teenage boy, flaunting his muscles to a girl he finds attractive.

“Wow,” she says looking around once again. Book still tucked tightly into her arm as she did so. “Just wow. Your parents have taste.”

“More like their people pleasers.” You say shaking your head. The real other reason why horror is so popular in the movie section is because of their request.

Every week they check their request list and buy everything people ask for. New books, new movies, new music and games, there’s always something new. You’re surprised there’s still room, then again the place would be as big you supposed.

“They like having their customers choice their number one priority. It’s good business.” You say looking up to the girl who had a look of wonder in her eyes as she stared down at you but there was also something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.

She stares at you for another moment before speaking again, “do you.. know who I am?” She asks and your furrow your eye brows in question.

“Should I?” You ask tilting your head. She stares for another moment again, eyes scanning your face and it’s features as if searching for something.

Her smile then grows, as she shakes her head. “You shouldn’t, or rather shouldn’t have to. It’s just a surprise.” She says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

You knit your eye brows together in confusion.

She walks out of the aisle and you catch the light smile on her face as she does.

What the hell? You wonder to yourself as you place the last few books away.

You were pretty sure that was the last section, unless your mother put out some more stuff you didn’t notice. You’d just check out the to-do list.

Your mother and father always had one for both you and their own sake. Adding things so no one would forget.

As you made your way to check out, you see the girl walking in the general distraction as well.

“All set?” You ask, placing the box inside the others, moving past the small door attached to the low counter.

“Yep,” she says once again staring at you.

You take the book you got for her earlier along with another you recognize almost immediately. “Between shades of gray?” You ask, looking at her as if she were serious.

“Your description seemed trust worthy enough to make me interested.” You glance over to see your board clearly flipped through before nodding.

You scan both books. “Careful, it’s sad, dark and traumatic. It’s one of my favorites though.” You say looking up at her, she pauses for a moment, staring at you once again and just smiles and shakes her head.

“I think I can deal with a few of those.”

“Bartering or buying?” You ask. “Bartering,” she replies and you nod. “Good, I need to get a review on what you think.” You say with a smirk and you see a glint of something in her eyes.

“Name?” You ask and she looks at you a little confused. “We have to know whose using our books, how else do you think we send emails threatening to charge or get them back?” You snort.

“Oh, your totally right.” she says quietly before taking out her credit card.

“Jenna Ortega..” she says and you nod, typing in the name before reaching for the credit. Her grip on the card tightens at your lack of response.

You pull the card gently but her grip is to hard for you to take.

“Can I… get the card?” You ask, looking around slightly uncomfortably with the stone like stare she was giving you.

“Are you sure you don’t know who I am?” She asks letting go allowing you to swipe the card.

“Again, should I?”

You both stare at each other, both confused and entrapped by the other.

You find is strange how she thinks you know who she is or why you don’t know her.

Maybe she was some big deal somewhere off and you still have yet to hear about her.

Her name did ring a bell but you weren’t sure. Was she a person you knew from your child hood? An old friend trying to reconnect? Maybe some relative on your moms sent by the older ones to investigate if it was really you.

“Miss Ortega?” You’re both broken out of your thoughts as two large men stand behind her. “Time to go.” he says gesturing to a few people who were standing and staring in your general direction.

One grabs the bag off the counter before quickly walking towards the door.

“Looks like I gotta go,” she says, smile now suddenly shy with others watching. “Don’t worry, I’ll return your book Y/N.” She says before walking toward the door, one of the men right behind her.

“Yeah, you bet-“ you pause after the the realization hits you. “Wait, how’d you-?” You begin to ask before watching her gesture to her chest.

You knit your eyebrows together, you look down to see the name tag right under the library symbol.

She was strange.. cute.. but strange