#Kingsman fandom

[happy74827]

Talk To Me

[Eggsy Unwin x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: With your boyfriend sneaking out 24/7 and always returning with carefully concealed injuries, it's only natural to be concerned.

WC: 3033

Category: Slight Angst + Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

I watched Carry-On last night (10/10 so good), and it got me re-thinking about one of my favorite films. Kingsman supremacy 🙌

『••✎••』

You loved Eggsy. Dearly. Truly.

You loved him so much that sometimes it scared you. How fiercely your heart clung to his smile, how tenderly your hands always seemed to reach for his, how naturally your entire world had shifted around him without you even realizing it. He was yours—scruffy, sweet Eggsy Unwin—and you believed you knew him. At least, you thought you did.

But then, the nights started.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Everyone had their own struggles, and Eggsy never struck you as someone who’d open up easily about his. He’d always been the type to handle his own problems, to wear his hardships like armor rather than show them. But that was before the late-night disappearances, before the quiet footsteps across your floorboards, before you’d wake up in a cold bed at 3 a.m. to find him gone.

It didn’t happen all at once. It was gradual—so gradual you could almost convince yourself you were imagining it. One night turned into two. Two turned into a week. And before long, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

The first time you tried to confront him, you did it gently. You’d asked him if everything was okay, masking your concern with casual curiosity. "You seem really tired lately, Eggsy. Is work being a pain?"

Eggsy had smiled, all teeth and dimples, and said, "Nah, luv. Just gotta lot on my plate, s’all."

You believed him because you wanted to.

But then there were the bruises.

The first one you noticed was along his jaw, faint and shadowed under the soft light of your kitchen. He’d winced when you kissed him there, just a tiny twitch of his lips, but enough to make you pull back. "You alright?" you’d asked.

Eggsy had waved you off. "Yeah, yeah, fine."

"Fine."

The word had felt too tight on his tongue, too forced. But you’d let it go because that’s what you did when someone you loved was hurting. You gave them space.

Except the bruises kept coming, each one a little harder to miss than the last. The faint cut above his brow, the stiffness in his shoulders when you hugged him, the way he’d flinch—just barely—when your fingers brushed against his ribs. And you noticed. Of course, you did. How could you not?

There was the other stuff, too. The sudden shift in his wardrobe. Gone were the trainers and bomber jackets, replaced with sharp suits and polished shoes. He’d started wearing glasses—ridiculous little round things that didn’t even have a prescription—and he carried himself differently now. Straighter. More serious. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the change. You did. Eggsy looked good in a suit, and you’d told him as much. But it was the why that lingered in the back of your mind.

Everything about him was changing, and yet you were still supposed to believe he was fine.

You weren’t stupid.

And so tonight, when you’d felt him slip out of bed yet again, something inside you had snapped. Enough was enough.

You stayed awake, feigning sleep as you listened to him shuffle around the room. You heard the soft clink of his belt buckle, the muted sound of a zipper, and then the quiet groan he let out as he bent to tie his shoes. He was trying to be quiet, but you could feel his movements, his tension, the exhaustion radiating off of him like smoke.

The front door closed behind him.

For a moment, you thought about following him. Your mind painted a dozen possibilities—none of them good—and the urge to know was almost overwhelming. But something held you back. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was the sick feeling that if you saw what Eggsy was hiding, you wouldn’t be able to unsee it.

So, instead, you stayed. You waited.

And you waited.

Hours slipped by, the quiet hum of the room punctuated only by the ticking of the clock and the occasional thump of your restless heartbeat. You sat in the darkness, curled up on the couch with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

It was almost dawn when you heard it—the sound of keys fumbling at the door.

Your breath caught as the door swung open, and there he was. Eggsy. Exhausted, disheveled, and dragging himself inside like he’d just run a marathon. He tripped over the shoes you’d left by the door, letting out a hushed curse as he stumbled and caught himself on the wall. "For fuck’s sake…"

You watched him for a long moment, your heart twisting. His shoulders were slumped, his face pale under the bruises, and there was an air of defeat clinging to him that you’d never seen before.

Your hand hovered over the lamp beside you.

Click.

Light flooded the room.

Eggsy froze. His wide, tired eyes met yours, and for a second, neither of you said anything.

"…Where were you?"

Your voice came out steady—colder than you intended—but you didn’t care. You needed answers.

Eggsy straightened up, wincing slightly as he did, and ran a hand through his messy hair. "What’re you doin’ awake?"

"Where were you, Eggsy?" you repeated, softer this time.

He opened his mouth to answer, but you saw the hesitation in his eyes. That flicker of guilt, of indecision. And it hurt.

You watched him—really watched him—take in the situation, his gaze darting from you to the lamp and back again. He looked so tired, the dark circles under his eyes stark against the pale exhaustion in his face. His bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might lie to you.

He always did that when he was nervous, chewing his lip like he was trying to hold the words inside.

And then he sighed.

"Look, luv—"

"No." You cut him off, surprising even yourself with the sharpness in your voice. Your heart was pounding now, a steady thud in your chest, and you swallowed the knot rising in your throat. "Don’t 'look, love' me, Eggsy. I’ve given you space. I’ve ignored the bruises. I’ve let you—whatever this is—carry on without question. But not anymore."

Eggsy’s mouth closed. He shifted on his feet, his wince almost imperceptible, but you caught it. You always caught it.

"Are you hurt?" you asked, voice trembling slightly despite the resolve you tried to hold. Your eyes dropped to the faint, bloodied scrape on his knuckles and the stiff way he held his side. "Jesus, Eggsy…"

"I’m fine." The words came out fast—too fast—and though they were meant to be firm, they only sounded hollow.

You flinched like the word was a slap. "You’re not fine."

He sighed again, this time deeper, and rubbed a hand over his face. "It’s complicated."

"Complicated?" you echoed, your voice pitching with disbelief. "Complicated is when you forget an anniversary or don’t know how to split rent. This isn’t complicated, Eggsy—this is you sneaking out in the middle of the night and coming home bruised and battered, and I’m scared."

There it was. The confession you’d been holding back. The thing that had been gnawing at you for weeks, clawing at your chest every time he slipped away. Your voice broke slightly, the words tumbling out like a dam had burst, and Eggsy’s face softened in a way that almost broke you.

You could see the guilt then, raw and unguarded, etched into the lines of his expression. He took a cautious step forward, but you held up a hand, needing the space to breathe.

"Do you…" Your voice faltered. You didn’t want to say it—didn’t want to voice the fear that had whispered in your mind during the loneliest hours of those nights. “Do you not trust me, Eggsy? Is there something you can’t tell me?”

Eggsy’s head snapped up at that, his brow knitting as if you’d insulted him. "What? No. No, it’s not like that."

"Then what is it?" Your voice cracked, and for the first time since this all started, you felt your eyes sting with tears. "Because I’m running out of scenarios, Eggsy. I thought maybe… maybe it was someone else, maybe you’d stopped loving me. But then I’d see the bruises, and I’d hear you groaning in your sleep, and…" You trailed off, pressing a hand to your forehead. "I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when you’re falling apart right in front of me."

The room was silent save for your quiet, unsteady breaths. For a moment, you thought Eggsy wouldn’t answer, that he’d slip into that shell of his again and leave you stranded in this mess of unanswered questions.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he crossed the room in two quick strides, cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you.

It wasn’t a soft kiss—not like the ones he’d give you after long days or lazy mornings. It was desperate and grounding, like he needed to make sure you were real and that you still loved him despite everything. You froze for half a second, caught off guard by the sudden warmth of his lips on yours before you melted into it. Your hands gripped his wrists, holding onto him like an anchor as your heart hammered against your ribcage.

When he finally pulled away, you stared at him, breathless and reeling.

"Eggsy—"

"I’m sorry," he muttered, his forehead resting gently against yours. "I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make you think that. Any of that." His voice was low and earnest, the accent softening as the words spilled out. "You’re the only good thing in my life, alright? The only thing that keeps me goin’. It ain’t you—it’s me. I’m just… I’m tryin’ to keep you safe."

"Safe?" Your brows furrowed as you leaned back to look at him. "Safe from what, Eggsy?"

He hesitated. You could see the war playing out in his eyes—the push and pull of wanting to tell you the truth but still trying to protect you from it. He was holding something back; you knew that much. Something big.

Finally, he exhaled slowly. "It’s work. The bruises, the nights—I can’t tell you everything, but you gotta trust me when I say I’m doin’ it for you. For us."

"Eggsy…"

His thumb brushed along your cheek, and you realized then that you were crying—just a little.

"You’re right," he admitted softly, the words heavy with guilt. "I shoulda told you somethin’. Not everythin’, but… somethin’. I just didn’t want you to worry, love. Didn’t want you to see this part o’ me." He smiled faintly, the corners of his lips tilting upward. "You deserve better than this mess."

You stared at him, the boy who had somehow become a man without you noticing. His rough edges were still there—still scrappy, still stubborn—but there was something more now, too. He carried weight on his shoulders, weight he hadn’t let you see until tonight.

"I don’t care about the mess," you whispered, your hands sliding down to hold his. "I care about you. And if you’re hurting, I want to know. I want to help."

Eggsy blinked at you like he wasn’t sure he deserved to hear that. Then he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly as if trying to shield you from the rest of the world.

"You’re mental, you know that?" he mumbled into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "Too good for me, you are."

Eggsy was warm against you, his arms solid and grounding, but you couldn’t let yourself melt into it—not entirely. Not when you could still feel the lingering tremor in his body, the careful way he was holding you like he was afraid of falling apart completely if he let go.

So you didn’t let it slide. Not this time.

You pulled back slightly, enough to look at him, your hands sliding to rest against his chest. He avoided your eyes for a beat too long, gaze flicking toward the floor as if the answers to all of your questions were scattered across the floorboards.

"Eggsy," you said softly, forcing him to look at you. "You’re doing it again."

His brows furrowed slightly. "Doin’ what?"

"Avoiding." You swallowed hard, your voice gentle but firm. "You keep saying you’re trying to protect me, but from what? From you? From whatever it is you’ve gotten yourself into? I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with half-truths and cryptic excuses."

He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a tight line as the silence stretched between you like a taut wire. You watched him, the Eggsy you knew—the one who laughed too loudly, who lit up rooms with his smile—hidden behind this new, heavier version of himself. A man weighed down by secrets you weren’t allowed to touch.

You felt your throat tighten. "If you’re in trouble, I need to know."

"I’m not—"

"Gary." You said his name softly, but with enough weight that he stopped, his shoulders sagging just a little under your gaze. You could see the walls going back up, the way his expression started to close off again, and your heart ached. This wasn’t about control. It wasn’t about digging into things he didn’t want to share. This was about him—the man you loved. The man standing in front of you with bruises and exhaustion, painting him in shades of worry and pain you didn’t recognize.

"I love you," you whispered, the words breaking through the quiet. His head snapped up, his eyes finally locking onto yours. "I love you, Eggsy. But this—" you gestured gently between the two of you "—this isn’t fair. You don’t get to shoulder all of this alone. Not when I’m right here."

You could see the cracks in his resolve then, the guilt splintering through his expression like fractures in glass. Eggsy exhaled, a heavy breath that deflated his entire posture, and he reached up to cup your cheek again, his thumb brushing faintly at the tears still lingering there.

"It ain’t trouble," he muttered after a long pause, his voice low and rough like gravel. "Not like you’re thinkin’. I ain’t into anythin’ shady, I swear."

"Then what is it?" you asked softly. "Please, Eggsy. I’m not leaving. I’m not running. I just need to know what’s doing this to you."

He hesitated again, clearly grappling with something you couldn’t see. For the briefest moment, you thought he might tell you—might rip off the Band-Aid and let you into whatever world he’d been keeping you out of. But then, as if on instinct, he sighed and shook his head, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before resting his own against it again.

"You don’t wanna know, luv," he murmured, voice so soft it nearly disappeared into the space between you. "I promise you don’t."

You stared at him, your heart twisting painfully. You could feel it now—the invisible door he was trying to close, to lock between you—and the worst part was, you knew he thought he was doing the right thing. He thought he was protecting you.

But all you felt was the sting of being shut out.

"This isn’t fair," you said again, your voice trembling slightly. "You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle, Eggsy."

His lips parted slightly, and for once, he didn’t have a rebuttal. He just looked at you—really looked at you—as if weighing the woman in front of him against whatever dark reality he’d been hiding.

"I can handle it," you pressed, your voice steady this time. "Whatever it is, I can handle it. I can handle you."

Eggsy pulled back slightly, his hands slipping to your shoulders. There was a flicker of conflict in his eyes, and for the first time that night, you saw a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface. "It ain’t about you not bein’ strong enough," he said finally, his words slow and deliberate. "It’s about me not wantin’ you to see the worst parts of what I do."

"What you do?" you repeated carefully, and you saw him flinch—just barely—like he’d said too much.

"Eggsy, I don’t…"

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Jesus Christ, I’m shite at this."

Your eyes searched his. Part of you wanted to press further—to keep pushing until the dam broke—but the other part could see his exhaustion, the way he was leaning slightly against the counter like his legs were struggling to hold him up. He looked so tired. So defeated. And you hated it.

You let out a soft sigh, taking his hand and lacing your fingers through his.

He stiffened.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was a question lingering between you, the same one you knew he was struggling to answer.

Tell her.

Don't.

It felt like an eternity had passed when you finally said his name, squeezing his hand gently.

His gaze lifted to yours.

And you let it go.

You didn't push. You didn't demand. You didn't ask. Because this wasn't a fight, you were going to win.

He wasn't ready.

So, instead, you just said, "Promise me something."

"Yeah?"

You hesitated, the words feeling heavier on your tongue than they had any right to be. You swallowed the lump rising in your throat and whispered, "Promise me you’ll come home."

Eggsy stilled.

It wasn't much of a request—more of a desperate hope that this wasn't all leading to some unavoidable ending you weren't ready for. It was an offer of surrender. A silent, exhausted plea to put the pieces back together, to stitch up the cracks before they could break.

He studied you, his tired eyes roaming over the lines of your face as if he could read the question lingering there.

And then he pulled you into his arms, a hand cradling the back of your head. You felt the warmth of his embrace, the weight of his body against yours, and your arms wrapped around him as tightly as you could. For a second, you weren’t sure if he would answer. If he even could.

And then, in the softest voice you'd ever heard, he whispered, "Always."

"For you, always."

[sweetliss55]

~Kingsman Oc~

Agent Celms"/"Whiskey"/"Lancelot

(Peirce cane)

Name: Peirce Cane

Agent Name/s: Celms

Age: 24

Gender: Male

DOB: 2000/1/1

Birth Place: Kentucky, USA

Next Of Kin: ?

Dog: Half Shepherd Half Pomeranian

Height: 6'4

Family: Classified

Relationship Status: Single

Playlist: https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLixqmmKZ4rjVpNsQ2yoTjgtOnvapkTDsW&si=Mtnqh_klawteQtSJ

Fan Fics: None for now (Maybe)

Quotes: "Manner Maketh Man" "Oxfords Not Brouges" "I don't have to try.. I am Clever"

Agency: Used to be in Statesman and another Agency (Classified) and is now working for Kingsman

Mentor: Ginger Ale

Personality: Smart and gentleman like. Used to have more of a cowboy personality when he was in Kentucky. Can be funny when he wants

Likes: Art, Whiskey, Fighting

Dislikes: Stupid People,

Sexuality: Bi but won't admit. (More interested in men)

Fav Movies: Valmont, My Fair Lady, The Shinging

Favorite Book: Many

Favorite Colors: Any

Other: He doesn't really like to date and is more focused on work. He can use a lasso best. Is great at hand to hand combat. He is definitely a gentleman and a cowboy. Smokes

Other photos:

[tegerton]

Dude, duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude! Does anyone even remember me? Sorry for the very long hiatus, but I’m dipping my toes back into fanfic writing. Hopefully I’m not too rusty. What better way to come back with trying out an original story, that’s right this bad boy is coming from my head.

You can all thank @justsomerandomfanfic for waking me up. Seriously, thank you so much for liking my writing. It means the world (I thought my writing was pretty bad not gonna lie haha) but I am so glad I can make someone’s day with it! Apologies in advance. Please let me know if I should add any specific warnings! Hearts, reblogs, and comments are lovely!

I am going to try and attempt a GN reader x Eggsy (please let me know if I need to fix anything)

Eggsy x GN Reader

Word Count: A little over 1k

Warnings: Implied fighting and not so great friends (it’s not too bad tho)

It was supposed to be just a chill night out with some friends at a rather less crowded bar. Yeah it was anything but that. Once the words “Manners, maketh, man.” were thrown into the mix and all bets were off the table. Various objects like tables, chairs, and umbrellas went flying as their eyes scanned to find various things.

1. Find a safe exit (The front doors had been barricaded shut, but there’s got to be an emergency exit somewhere in this dump).

2. Stick with the people you know.

3. Get out.

After a few close attempts the group decided to book it for an exit that was in the back of the little kitchen in the bar. The friends left in a hurry not giving their final remaining friend a clear plan.

“Thanks guys! Thanks for not TELLING ME THE PLAN!” The tone was in the midst of transitioning from rather annoyed to fearing for their life. But rather than hearing screams and carious grunts the room was eerily silent. It’s at this moment that they realized someone just saw their outburst. Turning to face the one man army they noticed the umbrella that had been previously used to take out at least half of the patrons in the bar who are currently laying on the ground. “Put the umbrella down.” The rather well dressed man slowly followed orders as he gently placed his Kingsman umbrella onto the floor. “Now, unlock the doors.” With some loud clicking the entrance was now unlocked. “Ok I’m going to leave.” It was an agonizingly slow exit as they never turned their back on the stranger.

“Sorry I ruined your night out.” Once his accent came out their heart dropped just the tiniest bit, it didn’t help that he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck exposing a rather good physique in the muscles of his arms.

“No, do not try to play the cute guy card with me.” Their hands pressed onto their hips as the shortness of breath from the entire situation finally caught up. A strained sigh came over as the lights reflecting off the rainy pavements were not helping.

“The cute card?” His hands fixed his suit as he finally exited the bar smoothly opening the umbrella right over both of their heads. “I’d rather say I’m just charming in general.” His wink was met with a side eye. “Alright I kind of get the sense that maybe I did something wrong.”

“Hmmmm I’m not sure let me go ask someone in the bar if they know,” It was the fake walk back to the bar that made him chuckle. “Oh yeah that’s right, they’re all passed out!”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I was Batman or something?”

“Batman doesn’t fight crime dressed like Bruce Wayne.”

“Batman isn’t Bruce Wayne.” The seriousness in his voice just made the joke even better. Their eyes rolled with a smile as a well deserved slug was met on his shoulder. “Let’s start over,” He offered his hand for a shake. “Eggsy.”

“Eggsy?” The bridge of their nose scrunched up in thought. “I haven’t been in the UK that long but I will admit that’s the most unique name I’ve come across so far.”

“Well my real name is Gary but I go by Eggsy!” His face was beaming as he explained the story of his nickname. On the other hand the poor bystander was just wanting to go home.

“Yeah that’s really cool and all but I kind of need to get home.” It was their polite yet desperate grimace and the shuffling of feet that made Eggsy connect the dots. Maybe don’t go straight for someone you’re interested in right after making them think they were your next victim. The string of muttered curses that left his lips made it hard to not fall deeper into the surprisingly chill and trendy guy. “Y/N, forgot to tell you. That’s my name.” Finally learning the mystery person’s name gave Eggsy a little faith that he wasn’t a complete failure with charming someone.

“That has to be the weirdest name I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh shut up!” In what would be the weirdest of situations the two found light at the end of the tunnel, a blossoming friendship that Eggsy only dreamed would turn into something else only with time. “No but seriously I have work at 7AM, I need sleep.”

“Do you need a ride?” A part of Eggsy was holding onto hope that the offer would be accepted but he knew the chances were slim.

“As much fun as that sounds, I drove here.” Y/N held up their keys as they pressed the lock button a couple of times causing the car to beep back. “Thanks for the offer.” The night was cold as they rubbed their hands together. “I hope to never see you pissed off at a bar ever again.” A cheesy smile was plastered on their face as Eggsy’s face flushed slightly but due to the cold weather he was able to hide it.

“Yeah hopefully next time we meet, it isn’t like this.” Y/N’s head turned towards him as they laughed a bit.

“What do you want my number or something?” The laugh died fairly quickly as they noticed the look on his face.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed.” He gently kicked a nearby rock. After a quick number exchange the two finally went their separate ways. Y/N noticed the number scribbled on the back of some business card as they slipped it over for further inspection.

“Kingsman?” Some store they had never heard of as they just got in their car and headed back to their apartment. Opening the door their roommate came barreling through giving them a hug.

“Oh my gosh, I was so worried when we lost you at the bar!” Y/N’s shoulders slumped into the hug.

“Yeah you guys were real worried alright.” The tone and sentiment were definitely called for especially since nobody even reached out to help. Not wanting to give it the light of day Y/N just went to their own little room and locked the door. That whole friends thing was for another day, but not now.

The next morning was uneventful as their shift went by with nothing really special happening. Not a bad day, not a good day, just a day. But hey at least the customer’s weren’t the absolute worst today.

“Can I clock out?” The manager slightly jumped in her seat not noticing their hire, engrossed in their emails.

“Oh yeah, thanks for your help.” And with the okay to leave it was a race to find somewhere to get food. With food on the brain, they almost passed something until a shiny golden logo caught their eye. It was the Kingsman store, Y/N took a peek through the window to see what exactly was being sold there but was met with Eggsy who sat across from another man dressed up just like him.

“No way.”

[thattripleabattery]

[baronessvonglitter]

Darlin’ Cowgirl

Jack Daniels x f!reader

Word count: 3.1K

Summary: looking for a way out of a bachelorette party, an accidental butt dial becomes a booty call

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit and Mature, friends/coworkers to lovers, reader is at least 21, tipsy flirting/dancing, improper use of a mechanical bull, semi-public sex, fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, smut, dash of romance with a happily ever after, no use of y/n, reader has hair and wears a dress

Author's Note: this was the first one-shot I'd ever written on AO3 and decided to post here as well 🤠🥃

JACK DANIELS MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You aren't looking forward to the bachelorette party. You don't even like weddings, yet somehow you've been roped into being part of your old college roommate's wedding party simply because you ran into her at the grocery store a few months back. It was only when you had the bridal shower that you realized you were one of thirteen bridesmaids. Great. Now you'll feel even more invisible than you already do.

You've been in a slump lately, and the only thing bringing out of it is your devilishly handsome coworker Jack Daniels, aka Agent Whiskey. You're an Information Security Specialist for the Statesmen, an ultra-secret espionage agency, so naturally you keep the details of your job pretty hush-hush. Whiskey, as you affectionately call him, is one of your few confidantes, despite the fact that he flirts with you at every turn. You admit to yourself that it's a nice distraction from your loneliness, even if you feel his flirtatiousness is just a bit of fun for him, his own distraction.

You take your time in dressing up for the night: a spaghetti strap black minidress with a plunging neckline and silver cowgirl boots. At the bar you meet up with your fellow bridesmaids and the bride-to-be, who are all in shades of pink and white, near exact replicas of each other, nearly indistinguishable. You stick out like a sore thumb and you know it.

The bridesmaids want to take shots so you take some with them, hoping your anxiety will dilute just a little. Your inhibitions are lowered just a little, but not enough to go out to the dance floor with the others. You watch as others watch them, in admiration as they laugh and gracefully (despite the Buttery Nipple shots they'd all consumed just minutes ago) and wish you could be part of them. You hang back at the bar, politely declining offers to dance from men who come by to not-so-subtly ogle you. You feel like a piece of meat. Perhaps it was a bad idea to come out, knowing you hate places like this. However, just as you're about to order a Lyft, you get an incoming call from Whiskey himself.

Confused and blushing you go to a quieter place of the bar, which is still very loud. "Hello?" you practically shout into the phone.

"Hey darlin'!" you hear Jack's voice on the other end. "You called me?"

"Um.. no, I didn't.."

He chuckles, warm and low in your ear. "Yes you did, darlin'. I was hopin' you were okay."

You quickly check your call log and sure enough, you'd called him about fifteen minutes ago, when you and the bridesmaids were doing shots. "I must have butt-dialed you," you shout back, giggling.

"Aw, lucky me," he drawls. "That pretty ass was thinkin' about me?"

You're too flustered to reply.

"Where are you anyway? Loud as hell over there."

"I'm at a bar for a bridesmaid party."

"That one you were talkin' about earlier today? No invite, huh?"

You giggle again. "It's for women only."

"Exactly! That's my kinda good time!" You hear him chuckle again.

"Actually it's kinda lame. I'm thinking of calling it a night."

"Don't you dare," he says with mock authority. "Wait there a minute and I'll be on my way. Text me the address."

You hang up and text him, wondering what he's up to. You've never hung out with him after work, even with all the flirting you've both done. You think it's strictly professional with a touch of playfulness, but you've never been one hundred percent sure.

You hang out at the bar, wanting to be visible to him when he arrives, but it's only after you're returned from the ladies' room checking your makeup, outfit and hair, that you see him, well the back of him, and he's mingling with some of the bridesmaids, who are obviously taking a much-needed alcohol break from dancing.

You gently touch his shoulder. "Hey there, stranger."

He turns, smiling, and the look in his eyes becomes one of pure lust. He drinks you in, unabashedly. "Damn darlin', you look so good it hurts," he drawls.

You glance at the bridesmaids, most of whom are checking him out with flagrant interest. "Did you meet everyone? Kaitlyn's the bride-to-be," you introduce them.

"I have, and her husband's one lucky sonofabitch, if I may say so," he places a gentlemanly kiss on the bride's hand and she in turn blushes. "Who's your friend?" she asks.

"A coworker," you say mysteriously, glancing at Jack, who has now turned his whole attention to you.

"You wanna dance, darlin'?" he asks, extending his hand to you.

Your stomach drops, just because you're pretty shy about dancing, and if anything you'd like to leave him with the impression that you can at least move in rhythm. "Maybe the next song," you suggest. "But first, how about a couple of shots? On me."

He smiles and shakes his head. "Darlin', I can't allow that. My treat," he insists, and orders a couple shots of whiskey for you and him.

"Had to be whiskey, huh?" you tease him, taking the shot glass in your hand.

"Of course." He lifts his glass to yours for a toast. "To coworkers getting to know each other better," he says, and there's a twinkle in his deep brown eyes that's hard to miss.

"To getting to know each other better," you grin and down the shot. It's like fire in your throat and stomach.

"Too much for ya to handle?" he teases, having downed his with ease.

"Depends.. which Whiskey are you talking about?" you tease back, feeling a little surge of confidence that either comes from Jack or from the shot.

"You're a little firecracker," he says in a low voice, his eyes blatantly going over every line and curve of your face, and downwards to eyeball your neck, the curve of your breasts. You wonder what he's imagining.

"Firecrackers are fun but dangerous," you warn him with a cheeky smile.

"We both know I'm all about that danger. Ain't nothin' I can't handle.." a subtle lift of his brows suggests he means more than mere flirtation.

"Is that a challenge?" You step closer to him, and the scent of his cologne, notes of leather and tobacco, catches your attention.

He notices your stance, the way you've shifted from a sweetheart wallflower to a provocative temptress. "What if it is?" he whispers into your ear, his breath tickling your skin and raising goosebumps on your flesh.

You follow his lead and whisper into his own ear, your lips grazing his cheek. "Then I accept.." you keep the ghost of a kiss upon his freshly shaven cheek and slowly pull back, looking into his eyes and seeing a newly effected desire there. "Dance with me." You bring him out to the floor, having completely lost sight of the bridesmaids. Nothing exists now but you and Jack and this chemistry that's been building between you.

His hands are on your hips as "Neon Moon" starts to play, a slow and soulful song that suits the mood you're both in. The colored lights sweep across the room, casting blue and scarlet and amber glows across the crowd. You're lost in each other, in the touch of his hands on your hips, the way he caresses them, loving their shape. You rest your hands on his broad, strong shoulders.

"You're a good dancer, Jack. You know what they say about men who are good dancers," you tell him suggestively.

"Really? What do they think, Gorgeous?" He pulls you even closer so your bodies are practically flush together.

"That they're good in bed," you answer with an arch of your brow, as if to imply it was beyond your belief.

He looks at you like a man looking at his first meal in a week of starvation. "Do you want to find out just how good of a.. dancer I am?"

Heat blooms across your body, and your pussy clenches in response. It only takes a moment to imagine what it would be like, riding this cowboy. You see him and you realize you have him right where you want him. "There is something I've been dying to ride.." you gently tug his shirt to bring him closer, as if in a kiss..

For a moment he looks like he's going to melt from the heat coming off you. "Oh yeah, darlin'? And what exactly is that?" he smirks.

Your face lights up. "That mechanical bull!" You grab Jack's hand and lead him across the huge barroom to the line to ride the bull. Sneaking a look at his face, Whiskey looks bewildered, but manages to cover it just in time. "That stupid thing? I can think of something more fun to ride," he smirks again and you resist the urge to drag him outside and let him have his way with you in the alleyway.

You only smirk back at him as the operator calls you to come forward and get atop the bull. Getting on top is easy, but staying on will be hard. As soon as you're situated, the bull starts spinning and bucking, slowly at first to let you get your bearings. You laugh and hold on, your body moving with the bull, anticipating its every move. Your hips grind down to the leather, thighs locked tight as you move your pelvis forward. Catching Whiskey's eye you blow him a kiss.

Seeing that the ride is winding down, he goes up to the operator and pays him to let you go again. This time, apparently on Whiskey's orders, the ride goes slower, allowing you to continue your little show for Jack. Keeping eye contact with him, you imagine it's him beneath you. Suddenly you gasp as you realize the bull is moving faster, and you watch as Jack's expression turns dark, lustful. You bite your lip as the speed increases. Pleasure pools in your belly, more specifically between your thighs, and the first stirrings of pleasure begin to radiate outward to your limbs, You rear your head back, face pointed up in ecstasy, and a rolling thunder starts in your veins.

You don't realize it until it's happening but you're being led away by Whiskey to a small corridor where no one can see you, and buries his face in your neck. "Tell me to stop if that's what you want," he says, his voice strained. "But by all that's holy, you are the hottest god damn thing I've ever seen."

But by then your leg is already hooked around his hip, shamelessly rubbing against him, the pleasure from the bull ride still fresh in your body. "I don't want you to stop," you whisper.

He growls low in his throat, which you dare to kiss, grazing your teeth across his skin. He gives a sharp hiss, and when he presses against you you feel proof of his desire, as if you needed any more. His hand goes beneath the hem of your dress and slides up, finding the edge of your lace panties. "Black?" he murmurs, his lips still against your neck.

"How did you know?"

You feel the curve of his smile against your skin. "I always know." His fingers trace your inner thighs before dipping into your heated, slick cunt. "Christ woman, you're soaking wet. For me." With his fingers inside you he kisses you, and you tip your face up to lean into his kiss, He slowly pumps two thick fingers inside as he slips his tongue into your mouth, mimicking the movements, earning a deep moan then a whimper from you.

"Watching you ride that bull, I just know it was me you were thinkin' of," he whispers huskily against your ear. "God damn if you aren't the most gorgeous thing I ever laid eyes on,, been wantin' you a long time, darlin'."

Through the haze of desire you smile, finding the temerity to feel touched by his words. "Took you long enough to show it," you tease, cupping the back of his head as you kiss, leaning against the wall as he fingers your wetness.

He groans again. "As much as I want to continue, I'd like to find a more comfortable place to fuck you." He pauses to look to you for consent. "That is, if you still want this."

You reply by palming his rigid cock, already threatening to poke through his tailored trousers. "I absolutely do.."

In a flurry of movement he brings you outside. The bachelorette party is the last thing on your mind, if you even still remember it, All you can think of is being with Jack. He leads you to his truck, the spacious backseat warm and inviting. He's on you again as that door is closed, His mouth finds yours, tongue claiming you. "I want to be gentle, but I don't think I have it in me right now," he admits.

You shake your head. "I'm not asking for gentle, I'm asking you to fuck me, Jack."

You've never called him by his name before, never been so informal with him, but the look in his eyes tells you it's perfectly all right by him. He lays you down on the seat. "Can I get a little taste of ya, darlin'? Been wonderin' what you'd taste like since the day we met."

This draws a sweet whimper from you, to hear he'd always wanted you. "God yes, please.."

He gingerly removes your panties, kissing his way back up your calves and thighs once they're off. You blush when he breathes in your scent. His hands cup the backs of your thighs, hooking them over his shoulders and you can't help but feel exposed. "Christ.. woman, you're gonna be the death of me," he mutters before taking off his hat and leaning in to devour you.

You give a sharp gasp as you lean your head back against the seat, hands mussing his hair as he laps at your wet cunt, licking up your folds and dipping his tongue inside you. He gently laps at your clit, using more pressure with each lick until he cups his lips around it and sucks, listening to how much you like it, how much more you need.

"Fuck!" you shout, a victorious roar as you feel yourself so close to that edge, and Whiskey is happy to let you use him for your pleasure. His tongue draws shapes upon your clit, alternating between swiping with his tongue and suckling it. Only when you come and he sweeps across every fold to drink up your juices does he stop.

You practically push him down, effectively trading places with him as you kneel before him. "My turn.."

His gaze turns dark even as his face lights up. "Hell, I'm not sayin' no to that, darlin'."

Smiling, you undo his trousers and pull them down with his briefs. His cock springs out, thick and long, perfectly curved, smooth, perfect. "God, I just knew you'd have a big dick.." you whisper, tracing with your tongue from root to head.

Whiskey exhales, watching you work on him. He palms the back of your head but doesn't urge you any further than what's comfortable for you. You use your hand to stroke his base while getting the first few inches of him into your mouth, daring to deep-throat him, wanting to see that look on his face, wanting to see him go crazy for you.

"Jesus, darlin'. I'm so on edge right now I might just burst if you keep doin' that," he chuckles. "Get on up here and ride me, gorgeous."

You feel your heart pound in every extremity of your body, especially your cunt, as you get up and straddle him, hiking up your dress. He stops you a moment and caresses your cheek. "This okay with you, darlin'? I have protection if you prefer.."

You smile and shake your head. "I'm on birth control, and I'm clean."

He smiles back. "Ah good. I'm clean too, darlin'." You know it has to be true, as the agents do periodic physicals and are prohibited from missions for the slightest findings.

Kissing him, you rise over him, using your hands to find him and bring him into you. He slides in without any resistance, and you take your time trying to get as much of him inside as you can. "Fuck, Jack," you whisper as he fills you.

Through the pleasure of connecting your bodies he smirks. "Is that an order?"

You giggle a little. "Looks like I'm the one doing the fucking." Just as you say that, he pushes up from under you, moving you up, filling you up just a little bit more. "God!!"

Sinking his teeth in to his lower lip he grabs onto your hips and moves you how he wants, watching your body for clues on what you like and what you want more of. He pulls the front of your dress down and frees your breasts, suckling on each nipple at a time as you melt on top of him, inadvertently letting more of him inside. He's fucking you and you're fucking him.

You grab his hat from the seat next to you and put it on yourself, riding your cowboy. Whiskey watches you, whispering your name, calling you his Cowgirl, bucking his hips up into you until he bottoms out, then lifting you with long strokes until you push him down to grind down. His thumb flicks over your clit, swirling the letters of your name and his, hearing your wild moans and shuddering sighs. You've never come so hard or so fast. You feel the first fluttery feelings deep within, and they shoot through your veins, lighting up your entire nervous system, and you scream his name as your cunt clenches spasmodically around his cock, and soon you feel him spill his cum deep inside you, spurting its warmth to your insides.

It takes a moment for you to come back to earth, and when you do, Whiskey is kissing you, tenderly, with the remainder of the passion you two just shared. "That was.. wow," you sigh, feeling shy around him now, of all times.

"It was spectacular, darlin'. I hope you know I'm gonna want you again," he puts his forehead to yours.

"Is that so?" You blush with elation.

"Of course darlin'. I'm hopin' to make this a long-term association, if you're so willin'. But on one condition."

You raise a brow. "Already calling the shots, huh? What's the condition?"

"That the only thing you ride is me. Ain't no way I'm being upstaged by a damn mechanical bull ever again."

You laugh, and he loves the sound of it. "We'll put a pin in that conversation."

He strokes your hair. The electric light from the bar sign lights up the inside of the truck, magenta and cyan. "You comin' home with me tonight, Cowgirl?"

You smile and give him a soft kiss. "You bet, Cowboy."

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[thirteens-pocket-watch]

Made one of these myself. Feel free to reblog.

Pls send me asks <3

[jadedontaskwhytoo]

Imma stop y'all right there.

Since Jack's now deds and Ginger took over his place as the new Agent Whiskey, I also wanna add new characters in place... Like:

Aidan Gallagher as Agent Brandy. Since TUA is now at its final season of taping, we need a new show that would make him peak again. And also, he's almost 20 and would grab six shooters, and also they need a younger face in Statesman than Tequila (sorry bro).

Next is:

Oscar Isaac as Agent Gin

bcuz...

I got this thing going on in my head that he would be Whiskey's best friend in the field and since he heard his best friend died, he would avenge him since he's also the third best agent alongside Tequila and Whiskey.

and 3:

Jessica Chastain as Ginger Ale

She was a Intern at Statesman and the former Ginger Ale's Bestie. What Whiskey (Halle) wanted is the best for the new Ginger Ale and she deserves better from what the old Whiskey (Pedro) did to her right b4 she was the new Ginger Ale.

And a bonus Add-on is:

Eva Green cuz she's MOTHER.

And that's it. This is my fancast.

He also wants to make The King's Man 2 👑

[variousqueerthings]

i really like taron egerton out of the bulk of actors that came out of the 2015-2020 era, he just made a few massive tentpole movies and then went cheers that and seems to have since then done mostly smaller-budget character acting work and found reasons to hang out with everyone he in turn is a massive fan of and buying his mum a house and otherwise staying out of the public eye, and im like. yeah. that's what i'd expect to be the best outcome from having had the opportunities he did in art that genuinely came from initially wowing the older industry professionals: make enough money to be able to choose any project you want, chill out in between, meet a bunch of other cool artists, support your mum

and he's very very good at his job also

[firsttarotreader]

“Better to shoot action scene or romantic scene?”

Pedro: Romantic.

(🫠🫠🫠🫠)

🥰🥰🥰🥰

[punkshort]

Thank you to everyone who participated in my writing challenge and reblogged/liked/commented on any of the works listed below!

➤ I will keep updating this list as more entries post

Joel Miller:

• Vacay Lover - Yacht Captain AU - @josephquinnswhore

• Come Fly with Me - Pilot AU - @punkshort

• Physical Therapy - Lifeguard AU - @eff4freddie

• Mr. Bakery Man - Baker AU - @honeyedmiller

Javier Peña:

• Orange Peel - Uber Driver AU - @captainredspade

Frankie Morales:

• Love in Hawaii - Tour Guide AU - @natasharomanoffsmotorcycle

• Water Cooler Courting - coworker AU - @crowandmousewritingco

• Hiding Place - best friend AU - @libraryofneith

• Neighborhood Watch - Neighbor AU - @joelalorian

• Poolside - Poolboy AU - @ghotifishreads

• Walking on Sunshine - Dog Walker AU - @sunshinehaze1

Dave York:

• The Prenup - Divorce Lawyer AU - @yxtkiwiyxt

• Lies, Excuses and Bullshit - Ex Boyfriend AU - @bitchesuntitled

• Doctor's Pet - Doctor AU - @evolnoomym

• Don't Move - Bodyguard AU - @almostfoxglove

• Every Breath You Take - Detective AU - @guiltyasdave

Dieter Bravo:

• Dieter's Sky High Brownie Delights - Chef AU - @pedges-world

• Bittersweet Love - Childhood Friend AU - @ozarkthedog

• Golden Girl - husband's best friend AU - @whocaresstillthelouvre

Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels:

• Sing for you Forever - Musician AU - @yopossum

• Forever - Groomsman AU - @morallyinept

• My Kink is Karma - Hitchhiker AU - @clawdeewritesfanfic

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[m1nts]

Harry Hart in the Hades artstyle :3

PNG and speedpaint :3

[mannersmakethzine]

Manners Maketh | Contributor sign-ups

Manners Maketh is a Kingsman Fanzine with the goal to celebrate the 10 year anniversary of Kingsman: The Secret Service. We're looking for writers and artists! No prior experience with zines is needed! Since the zine will likely be digital, we're hoping to be able to let as many people as possible participate, so please don't hesitate when it comes to applying.

Thank you for the support!

Artists can apply here!

Writers can apply here!

We're also looking for mods, so feel free to check out this post if you're interested in that.

[oppositeshipping-ceo]

I'm a Ninjago, Good Omens, Hannibal, Loki, Sherlock, Kindergarten, Kingsman, LEGO Dreamzzz, Last Kids On Earth, Our Flag Means Death, Red White & Royal Blue, Ducktales, The Three Caballeros, Doctor who, Trollhunters, Tales of Arcadia, Cuphead, What We Do In The Shadows, and Carmen San Diego Fan FIRST and a functioning human being second

[tegerton]

Hii can I request smut?

Hi there! I actually don't write smut. Hope this helps, have a good day!

[lady-bess]

Fallout - Chapter 11 "Wipe The Slate"

Jack Daniels x F!Reader Explicit/18+ (Minors DNI please) Chapter Word Count: 9.2k Chapter Tags: Anger, Themes of Betrayal, Missions, Kissing, Angry Kissing, hehe, revelations, Jack realises maybe he cares.

Series Masterlist | A03 Link | Tumblr Masterlist

<- Previous Chapter (Ch. 10 - "Furtherance")

After months of tensions, you and Jack finally look like you're at breaking point with one another. But who will crack under pressure first?

You

To say the last few months had been challenging with Jack would be a fucking understatement. And while you were sympathetic to a degree, there was only so much you could handle him acting like this. The two of you might no longer cross paths as often, but each time you did was a laborious chore that almost brought you to the edge of tearing out your own hair. 

Or his. You weren’t fussy. 

You’d got your answer as to why Jack was so furious after that meeting almost as soon as you’d sat down in that interview room with Champ. He’d wanted to put on a few more theatrics for you, apparently, really make you think that it was just an ordinary meeting, and then ask about if you’d be interested in the senior position. But after Jack’s outburst in the corridor, he didn’t see the point, and so the whole facade fell away before your very eyes. The wool was pulled back, and Champ had opened up the meeting with what had occurred. 

He’d sighed as he invited you to take a seat, before unloading everything onto you that had just happened. You felt for Jack, understanding why he probably interpreted your promotion as a betrayal, even if it wasn't you who made the decision. Sometimes you felt like you were the only agent who did feel for him, and understand the torture he was going through most days. Even though he tried to hide it, his attempts were so often in vain; at least, in front of you. 

But for as much as you tried to reconcile with Jack in the days and weeks that followed Champ’s verdict, you were now going to be the painful reminder of his own mistakes going forward. As much as he had tried to put them behind him, and to focus on moving forward with you as his TO, this now brought all that ugly truth to the forefront of his mind. 

Again. 

You had felt yourself sink and retreat into the chair in which you sat that day, secretly pleading with Gods who may not even exist to relieve you of being the one to carry such a burden. There was a large part of you that wanted the leather cushions to swallow you whole so that you no longer had to deal with this - it had already been a strain to build a solid bond with Jack in the early days, and now this threatened to totally undermine any progress you made. But tried as you might, the weight had been bestowed upon yourself, and now you had to try and navigate a way forward with Jack. 

Without either of you killing each other first. Now that would be something amazing if the two of you managed it. 

The cruelest part of this whole ordeal was that the two of you could not even begin to put distance between yourselves in light of his training being effectively over. You had been more than happy to sign off Jack’s paperwork to clear him for active duty again; even without the revelations that came in Champ’s office, you were satisfied that Jack had more than proved himself recently. You and Loretta had worked with one another to surmise that Jack had now reached a physical and mental level where he would be safe to be released to active duty, and your decision had been made before you even set foot in Champ’s office that day. 

But Champ was doing some kind of ‘reshuffle’ , he’d said, as part of his new venture to make sure that agent's mental or physical health didn’t start to slip non-monitored again, as Jack’s had all those years ago. It wasn’t anything major, just mandatory training sessions with other agents, but when he insisted on pairing the two of you together it filled your heart with a rage towards your boss. 

Bastard. 

They might have only been once a week sessions, but any time in the presence of Jack recently had felt like torture. You spent most the week dreading your encounter, and then the subsequent days after feeling nothing but anger and frustration towards him. He might now be a ‘free man’ in the eyes of Statesman, but he wasn’t leaving the campus anywhere near as much as you might have hoped. Limited sessions and passing one another on the corridor was still too much interaction for you, if he was going to remain like this; stubborn, cruel, and unkind. 

As time went on he gradually stopped being such a cunt in your presence, and eventually the single word grunts you got from him as ‘conversation’ wore off. But that didn’t make things any better. He might have stopped his irritations at your mere existence from making him have outright angry outbursts, but receiving the cold shoulder week in, week out, wasn’t pleasant. He loathed the fact that he was still in training, seeing it not as a new venture for the company to improve, but rather a further punishment for himself. It wasn’t enough that he had been made to endure house arrest for months, but now to find he was still stuck with you , the person who now was the constant reminder of his shortcomings, ate away at Jack immensely. 

His guilt and disappointment in himself for what he’d lost, the mistakes he’d made, and what he still had to do to become a better man, were translated into bitter anger and frustration towards the only person who had stopped long enough to give him a chance. He knew it was wrong, but no reasoning had quite managed to get through to him yet that this wasn’t your fault. Alas, that didn’t totally stop him from behaving in a way that rendered you speechless. 

Today was another one of those days. 

“Pick it up , agent. Come on, I know you can do better!” you yelled at Jack, who was currently running laps around the gymnasium. The whole thing took you back to your early days as an agent where Tex would yell at all the budding Kingsman recruits to constantly be beating their own records, to push themselves further, and prove they had what it took. 

What you didn’t recall, though, was the aggressive undertone in those sessions which you so often found in these ones now. 

Over the last few sessions, Jack had improved his physical health more and more, and since signing him off as a proper agent you had felt comfortable to step up the kind of sessions that you were giving him. The hours were longer, the weapons used wielded more power, and you’d long since stopped holding back against him. You showed him no mercy now, partially fuelled by your own agitations at the fact he now resented you, but also because you knew he could do better. If he wanted to so badly be out into the field on solo missions, he would have to seriously step up and prove to everyone that he was more than capable of holding his own in any scenario. 

Jack came to a stumbling halt, the soles of his trainers squeaking against the floor, and he collapsed to the ground, his forearms hitting the wooden boards beneath him as he tried to stop his weight from landing through his wrists. He heaved his breaths out one by one, his eyes screwed up as he grimaced in mild pain from exhaustion. He knew he deserved this level of brutality, and that he’d need this training under his belt if he was ever going to be permitted to go on solo missions again, but right now he hated your guts for this. 

More than usual. 

He let himself flop down, laying himself out on his back for a few moments to catch his breath, paying no attention to your voice from the other side of the room. He grunted to himself and aggressively smacked his palms on the ground in frustration, before sitting up to get back on his feet. You watched as he glared across the room at you, your hands on your hips, as sweat dripped from his hairline and down his furrowed brow. 

“How many times have we gotta do this, London ?” Jack sneered at you, “If I can’t fuckin’ run to save myself now, after months of training, and I’m just gonna get my ass handed to me the second I’m allowed on a mission, then what’s the point?!”. 

He spoke with his hands, arms flailing to make his point heard, his actions almost erratic to watch. But Jack was not the kind of man who needed to add anything to his own voice to be seen - even while you resented him for treating you so poorly recently, he still dominated any space the two of you found yourself in. He exuded a confidence over others with his stature alone, something you had witnessed get built up in the aftermath of you gaining his moniker. It was like that was the final push he needed to go back to being the arrogant asshole Tequila had told you he once used to be - not the more reserved gentleman, who was down on his laurels, that you had been training most this year. 

“You just said it yourself, Jack. I ain’t having you injured the moment your toe crosses the line out there,” you reasoned, pointing towards the door to signify your argument. “Nothing about your training is a charade”. 

“Just admit it, you’re like Champ now,” Jack huffed, turning to walk away from you. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, not wanting to stoop to his level, but finding it hard to fight the urge to call him out on his bullshit. 

“How?!” you asked. “Heaven forbade me to care about your wellbeing, did it?”.  

Jack snapped. You saw every muscle in his body tense up before he turned on his heels and strode himself back towards you. His hands grasped at your body as soon as he could reach out, and with a gentle shove he pushed you so that your back slammed into the wall behind you, the air in your lungs being knocked from where they rested as he did. A faint whimper left your lips in shock, and very quickly you found yourself stuck in his fiery gaze. 

“This has nothing to do with my wellbeing, and you fucking know that! But for whatever reason, neither of you are granting me the chance to be free. I am a free man in all but words, London . I can leave the compound, but you’re not letting me do anything for the good of the company I have worked so hard to prove myself to. I have nothing! ” he yelled. 

With his hands firmly on your hips, you were pinned in place to the wall, forced to stare directly into dark eyes that reflected nothing other than hatred. Having nowhere else for them to go, your own hands rested on his chest, attempting to put a small bit of distance between the two of you. Jack didn’t scare you, and you knew he would never actually lay a hand on you. But this was the most intense encounter you’d had since the two of you ended up on the floor together before your promotion, and after so long of not feeling that burning flame between the two of you, it was surreal and intense to experience again. 

“Have you ever considered that perhaps we don’t think you’re ready yet?” you spat, your own anger threatening to burst out from the confines in which you kept it neatly tucked away. But Jack continued to push.

“ How am I not ready?! We’ve been doing this shit for months !” he yelled, still agonisingly close to your body. His fingers dug into your hips, almost like he was trying to push you through the wall behind you itself, and at the sharp pain that it sent through your body, you yourself broke any composure you had left.  

“ Look at yourself! ” you shouted back, making Jack slightly recoil, “You’ve got me pinned up against a wall, and for what ?! This doesn’t seem like the actions of a guy who has his shit together, does it?”.

You watched Jack’s eyes scan your face, shocked that you had chosen to yell back at him. Out of the two of you, you were always the one with a level head on your shoulders. It was very rare that you resorted to raising your voice, the only exception being if you were doing firearms training. He knew he’d fucked up, again , from the simple fact alone that you had chosen to give into the rising temper within you. But this constant feeling of failure, and always somehow managing to fuck things up, only angered him further. 

“ Fuck. You ,” he sneered, his brow knitting together and nostrils flaring with an enraged snarl of breath that had your spine shivering. 

“You wish ,” you said back through a half-laugh, fully aware of how childish of a response it was. But given his behaviour, you didn’t care. You were pissed off and angry at the man you’d been giving hours of your life to, only for him to get up in your face and yell at you for such a sacrifice. 

Jack scoffed, shaking his head at you. His hands drifted up slightly, rough calloused fingers now making contact with the slightest bit of skin beneath your shirt, before he squeezed even tighter - a reminder of the kind of life he used to lead, laid bare in his touch alone. 

“Shut up,” he said with a crack in his voice, before pushing himself on you entirely. 

In a fit of anger and frustration, Jack’s lips met yours. For as much as he wanted to keep hating you, he couldn’t see past the face before him - the one woman in so many years who had shown him such care and affection, now biting back at his snarky remarks. It ignited something so lost in him that he had forgotten what this feeling was - to be so enraged by someone’s existence that he all but lost control of his senses. He knew that he had been so wrong to not show you the same care and affection that you had shown him these past few months, and that this behaviour absolutely did not align with how he had been. But every nerve in his body overtook his mind, and kissing you was all that he could think about. 

He kissed you with a ferocity that had your breath taken away, and it took a few moments for your brain to catch up with what was happening. When you eventually came back to your body, you were surprised to find your fists bunching up the fabric of his shirt, and your own lips parted in agreement, kissing Jack back. The sheen of sweat that laid across his chest, lightly dappled in the material of his shirt, now peppered the tips of your fingers as you pulled him closer to you. 

Jack softly grunted as you succumbed to his touch, his kisses becoming more tender and desperate with each passing second. Your lips parted entirely, allowing him the access he so desperately craved. There wasn’t a beat of hesitation in his movements as you gave him what he wanted, and his tongue slid across the soft swell of your bottom lip as soon as he could have it. He lapped away at you as he kissed your lips, before dipping his tongue inside your mouth and having his fill of you there, running it along your own tongue and moaning softly in the back of his throat.

You didn’t stop him - not that you would even if you felt like you could . But he had you pinned both physically and metaphorically to him, and all you could do was give in to him and the desire that had been pooling between you both for months. His kisses were as tender as you remember them, and you relished in the feeling of him - everything from the way his moustache brushed against your top lip, to the vague coffee taste you found on his own tongue. A soft bitterness wrapped up in the body of a man you spent most your days hating. And yet, all of it had been what you yearned for since that day so many months ago. 

You didn’t want to admit how many nights you would fall asleep thinking about his weight pinning you to the ground, his lips on yours, and his hands wandering up your shirt. There had barely been any time for respite these past few months, between training sessions and missions, for you to go out with your friends and attempt to find comfort in the arms of another man’s embrace. The last encounter you had was with Jack, and it burned you inside that things were left like an open wound. Always clamouring for more, while simultaneously despising every atom in his body. 

Jack’s hands dipped down beneath your ass and hoisted you up around him. Still pinned to the wall, you now had your legs wrapped tightly around his narrow hips. Your thighs clenched as you gripped him with all your strength, your own hands leaving his shirt to dive into his thick hair. Locks of the dark brown and grey tresses entwined around your fingertips, and with every deepening kiss you tugged gently at the locks. You felt the deep rumble of a moan deep in Jack’s chest at each tug, and you whined softly in response. 

It was the perfect reunion. All the tension and anger that had been building between you both got swept up in the wind, blown away and replaced with lust and desire. Fingers dug into skin, teeth clashed, and your hearts pounded at a million miles an hour. You felt the blood rushing past your ears as you too now felt the urge and need to be and do so much more with Jack - almost to the point where it hurt. 

But then he broke, again. Filled with the overwhelming urge to take this further, to remove any clothing you still had which separated your bodies, Jack stopped. His eyes snapped open as he pulled his lips back, and he looked down at your flushed face in an almost horror at what he’d allowed himself to do. The evidence of his actions were as clear as the heat of the Kentucky sun in the middle of July, with your lips red and swollen from the ferocity, and your cheeks hot to the touch. A wave of shame washed over Jack, and slowly he released you from his grasp. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, putting you down and stepping away from you in one fell swoop. 

“Jack?” you beckoned, reaching out to try and grab him. Your heart still thudded in your chest, and you stumbled on shaky feet as you were left without his touch on you. But still, he continued to walk away. 

“I’m sorry, Whiskey,” he said, turning to you solemnly. All the anger that had been brewing had dissipated, and before you now was the same defeated man you once met. The man who didn’t think he would ever earn himself a second chance here with Statesman. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow”. 

And with nothing else to say, Jack turned to leave the room. 

~~~

Like with your first encounter on the gymnasium floor, you and Jack never talked about your kiss. But there had perhaps been some benefit to what occurred. Slowly but surely, Jack started acting more like how he had been with you when you first met. Still a little reserved, but definitely far from being the arrogant man you’d been told all about; and the one you had unfortunately felt the wrath of since your promotion. 

But now, each time you ran into each other, your behaviour towards one another was getting more courteous. Things might have been a little awkward at first, the two of you unable to even share glances at one another without burning up like some wild inferno; but as the sessions went on you began to slowly rebuild the trust and friendship that you had worked so hard to create in the first place. The two of you even began to laugh and joke with one another as you once did - a breakthrough, for sure. Tensions might still run high at times, but you were more confident than you once were that you would eventually be able to patch things up. 

Weeks turned into months, and one by one agents across Statesman began picking up various missions. You’d not had any mission particularly dangerous yet, albeit none of them without risk. But with each one your position as a senior agent was becoming more solidified within the company, and it was clear to everyone that you had well and truly earnt your place by now. With the help of Astrid and Tequila, the three of you had begun taking down an organised crime syndicate that had been shipping illegal bio-weapons into the country, some of which were planned to target figures in government itself. 

It was a huge achievement on a national level, but obviously Statesman were never credited for your hard work. Just as with your British counterparts, the newspaper headlines on the day of you taking down the leaders were utterly unrelated to the planned attacks, instead being more focused on the trivial celebrity marriage gossip of the day than anything negative happening. 

Nevertheless, on the day you returned to your office, you found a copy of the newspaper from the day you arrested the leader atop your desk. You smiled as you picked it up, heading to set it to one side to cut out and frame to put with the rest of your ‘headlines’, when a note caught your eye. 

“Good work, boss. Glad to have you back. J x” . 

Eight words, that’s all it was. But it was eight words closer to you and Jack repairing your relationship with each other, and right now you’d take anything that would bring you slightly closer. 

You kept the note too. 

~~~

A few days after your return to the Kentucky office, and there was a full debriefing being held across all agents to pass on intel you got to the rest of the organisation. It wasn’t unusual for crime families to work closely with other more nefarious gangs and operations, so anything you managed to get from them could potentially be useful to other agent’s missions. 

As with every briefing, the three of you on the mission presented your findings to all agents present, both physically and through the use of the augmented reality glasses. Of all the technology that you were exposed to as an agent, the glasses were probably the most surreal thing that you had to get your head around. Looking around the room and seeing figures appear before your very eyes as they tuned in and out of the meeting, depending on their own schedules, always left you feeling a little out of sorts. 

Or perhaps it was the dark stare you received from Jack at the other end of the conference table, who for some reason seemed to not be able to take his eyes off you today. 

Still, you persevered, and with Tequila and Astrid you delivered your findings with great success. Tequila patted you on the back as the three of you returned to your allocated seats, him having deliberately taken more of a back seat during that meeting to allow you more time to be able to lead it yourself. It was one thing you loathed about your new seniority - out in the field you could keep a level head and delegate accordingly, but for some reason the debriefing meetings always left you rife with anxiety. 

Or, again , perhaps it was the presence of a certain cowboy at the end of the table which was what had your skin crawling…

Champ had asked you to stay behind after this briefing, so as everyone began heading out the room and disengaging their augmented reality glasses, you stayed put. Champ cracked open a decanter of bourbon as he waited for the room to fall quiet from the sound of others leaving. You watched as he poured out two servings of the deep amber liquid, and you chuckled under your breath. There truly was no limit to how early in the day Champ deemed it appropriate to drink neat liquor. 

“What did you want to talk about, Champ?” you asked as he sauntered back towards the table, the glasses in his hand. He sat down and slid one over towards you, which you took with gentle fingers, pulling it towards yourself. 

“What do you think about having Agent Seltzer as your partner, now that you’re a senior, and fully settled into your new role?” Champ asked, slowly sitting back down in his seat before taking a swig of the drink. You stared into the abyss of your own liquor, contemplating if you would perhaps actually need a sip of it if this was to be the line of questioning. 

“Jack?” you queried.

“Yes,” Champ chuckled, it still a bit bizarre to hear the former senior agent called by anything other than Whiskey.

“That would be fine by me, Champ, but I do have to wonder how well he’d take our pairing,” you said, opting to take a small sip of the bourbon. It stung a little as it slid down your throat, and you tried your best to hide the grimace that came with that. For as much as you could tolerate a good whiskey, having it neat and so early in the morning was something you would never fully adjust to. 

“What makes you say that?” he asked, his brow furrowed. 

You scoffed under your breath - with all the work you’d done with Jack over the last few months, and with when you started at the company, you couldn’t believe that Champ still assumed you didn’t know anything about the former senior agent’s life with the company. That, and how he’d been acting to you these past few months. 

“Champ, I’m not dumb. I know what happened back in 2017; I did my research when I was a training agent. He’s also not taken my promotion too well. Training had been… difficult, for a while. We’re on the up now; or, at least, I think that we are…,” you cleared your throat, “but I think me now having his former moniker has soured our relationship, and I ain’t sure how well he’d take being paired with me now he’s signed off. He’s probably dying to see the back of me, Champ”. 

Champ shrugged nonchalantly, clearly unphased by the behaviour of Jack. Either it didn’t surprise him, or he expected something far worse to have come out of your mouth as a rebuttal. Either way, he dragged out another long sip from his glass as he mulled over what he said, before clearing his throat. 

“Well, actually , that’s the very reason I want to pair you both together. If he can handle working alongside you, and not freak out, then I’d like to think he’d be able to return to us properly. As it stands I don’t want to let him out on missions alone. He’s still…a liability ” Champ explained, still not entirely trusting of Jack. 

You, however, were having none of that. For all the issues the two of you were facing, you weren’t going to stand by and allow his hard work to be besmirched so casually. 

“With all due respect, sir, it’s been three years since you shut down Poppy and her gang. Has he not suffered enough?”. 

For all Jack’s flaws, and by God did he have them, you could never in good faith tarnish him with that same brush he was once painted with. The two of you might not currently be on the best terms, but you were never going to discredit him as the fantastic agent he was shaping up to becoming again. 

“Now I know I didn’t just hear you doubting me, Whiskey… ,” Champ retorted with a stern voice that almost had you forgetting your place. Straightening up in your seat, you cleared your throat, your grip on the glass of bourbon decidedly tighter than it was a few seconds before. 

“Not at all, sir. Whatever you say goes, I know that, and I’ll not object. I’m just offering an alternative viewpoint, that’s all,” you explained.

Champ nodded, glancing out of the window that overlooked the compound. You could almost hear the cogs in his head begin to whir as he contemplated the position he was in, whether to make this decision or not. 

“Alright. I’ll consider it, Whiskey. I’ve already run it by Jack anyway, just to put feelers out to see how he might react. Will you see him today?” he asked. You shook your head as you finished the last of your drink, but now you at least had an answer as to why Jack was glaring at you for the entirety of today’s meeting. It seemed like the two of you could never quite catch a break from one another, and now there might be a whole new level to this… 

“No, sir. He’s with Ginger this afternoon, having a physical rehab session.”

“He’s still going to those?” Champ asked, his brow furrowed and attention back on you. 

“Only once a month now. It’s more like a check up, to be honest,” you said, then mumbled, “gives him a break from me, too.”

Champ raised his eyebrow, but chose to not ask you to elaborate. He’d heard enough from Loretta, Ginger, Eve, and Astrid to understand that things were somewhat soured between the two of you. He hated seeing it, and part of him regretted the decision he’d made to hand his former moniker to you. It was nice to see Jack momentarily becoming a new man, one who embraced change and seemed to be finding joy in life again. Someone who was happy, and opening up to new people. 

But he squashed any doubt he had any time he heard about Jack’s antics. At the end of the day this was the only way to test Jack’s loyalty, and his ability to not crack under pressure. He was right - if Jack could be partnered with you and not lose himself, that was the first step to proving to the whole agency that he was truly a changed man. 

And right now, he wasn’t proving that. 

Jack

Jack sat in silence in the labs as he awaited Ginger to return. Numerous machines were ticking and beeping away around the room, making up their own choir of sorts, never giving anyone who worked in here a moment’s peace. He chuckled under his breath as he remembered back to earlier in the year, when he awoke in this room for the first time, and then spent a significant number of weeks on bed rest. He wondered then, with the sounds filling the room with ease, how he had ever managed to get any rest while he was holed up here. 

He screwed his eyes up and hissed, the painful memory of his awakening coming rushing back to him. It was the one thing that he tried to not dwell on too much, because each time he was reminded of being back here, he got given the uncomfortable reminder of the dream in which he lived the whole time he was asleep. 

His dream with Lela was something he still hadn’t mentioned to anyone. He wasn’t ashamed of her, or the fact that his unconscious mind took him back there. But he hadn’t seen her since, and for just a little longer he wanted to hold dear the one final memory he had with her that was his alone. He didn’t want a psychologist to unpack why he had gone to see her on the brink of death, nor did he want anyone else feeling sympathetic about the fact he so often wished he’d stayed there with her…

Maybe things would have been easier if I had stayed , he wondered. 

But then the sound of footsteps approaching snapped him back into the room, and Jack had to all but shake himself to come back to Earth. He inhaled sharply and turned to the sound, smiling softly when Ginger came into view, her clipboard in hand. 

“Alright, all tests done. You’re still fine,” Ginger said. 

“Thanks, Clara,” Jack said, sliding his jacket back on before moving to head out of the room. “Same time in a month?”.

“If Whiskey still thinks it’s necessary,” she said, smiling sweetly as she put his reports away. Jack scoffed. 

“Fuckin’ Whiskey ,” he mumbled. 

“Hey,” Clara snapped, “what’s with that fucking tone?”. 

If there was one thing Clara excelled at, it was making sure that any agent could still falter to the sound of her voice. She was so often underestimated by recruits as being “the one in the lab” or “ the techie” , but her piercing tone could shatter the composure of many agents. Jack was no exception. 

“Sorry,” he grumbled, feeling like a kid that had been scalded by his parents. His eyes stayed fixed to the floor, and Clara rolled her own eyes, scoffing as she came up to him. 

“Jack, I don’t get you . It’s been months since London got her promotion. When are you going to start being happy for her?!”. 

“Oh fuck off, Clara. You have no idea!” he said back, his voice teetering on the edge of a full blown yell. He wanted to give up this fight, to let you back in again and go back to some semblance of normality with you. Every bone in his body wanted to, and hoped he could get past this shit or both your sakes. Most days he thought back to your kisses, and he knew how badly he yearned for more. But there was still something holding him back…

“No, you’re right. I have no idea . So help me to fucking understand, Jack! Because I can’t be dealing with your whining anymore. She is the only person in this entire company who still gives a shit enough about you to keep trying. The rest of us are sick of you acting like a child about all this,” she said, her finger now outstretched and jabbing Jack dead centre of his chest. 

“Leave it alone, Clara. I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped. But Clara wasn’t budging. 

“No, I won’t leave it. I don’t understand; how is this any different to when I was Whiskey? Because you sure as hell didn’t treat me the way you’re treating her, and it’s not fair!”

Jack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“It just…it just is different, okay?” he said. The realisation dawned on him that he might finally be in a position where he couldn’t get out of explaining his reasoning for why he was so hell bent on holding this against you. 

“Tell me how, Jack. Help me understand.”

Jack sighed and his shoulders dropped as he looked at Clara - his dark brown eyes glassy as tears of frustration began to well in them. If he were being honest, he’d shed a tear most nights since you had been promoted. Loretta could tell that there was something more serious amiss than normal, but in all this time he had never said anything to her, and had instead chosen to lock it away deep inside of him. 

But today, he unlocked that reason. 

“When I found out you got my moniker, I-,” he sighed, “it hurt, okay ? But I spent years denying you the right to be an agent. I figured it was my own fault, and it served me right to see you walk around with that name. A name that had been mine for nearly twenty years. But I made my peace with it, and I moved on,” he said, walking away so he could sit on the edge of one of the lab beds. He took in some deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Clara followed slowly, not interrupting though, sensing that he was building to the rationale she had been so intently trying to figure out. 

“But now, to see Champ just passing the title on like it’s nothing ? What has she done to earn that ?!” he said, anger lacing in his tone again. 

“Well, for one, she’s had to put up with your whiny ass a lot longer than any of us would have coped with,” Clara scoffed. 

“Shut the fuck up, Clara,” he said, a half jest. 

“I’m serious! She’s got the patience of a saint with you,” Clara came to sit next to him, “and through all of this, she hasn’t held anything against you. Even if it hurts her.”

Jack screwed his eyes up, frustrated at himself. He’d been so focused on ignoring you and sticking his head in the sand regarding you having his name, that he hadn’t for one second considered that his actions would have an impact on you. That you, for a moment, might actually be upset by what he was doing. 

He sighed solemnly, before accepting that it was now or never. He had to lay his cards out on the table to someone if he ever wanted to move past this. Clara had always been someone that he trusted with his life, and on more than one occasion he’d opened up to her about things nobody else, to this day, knew about. 

“Do you know why I was Whiskey, Clara? Have you ever stopped to ask that question?” he asked, his voice quieter now, and considerably softer. Like the words coming out hurt him, and he had to be careful how he said them. 

Clara shook her head. 

“Can’t say that I have, no. Figured it just made sense because you were one of the first senior agents, and given both the front of this company and Champ’s fondness of you, the title whiskey should be yours.”

Jack shook his head, burying his face in his hands. Clara turned on her seat and faced Jack, placing her hand on his knee, sensing that there was something a lot more going on than him being petty over just a name. 

“Jack? Tell me?” she said, so gently it was almost a whisper.  

Jack sniffled and inhaled sharply, like he was bracing himself to speak. Like the mere act was something so foreign to him now that he wasn’t sure if he knew how he was ever going to get these words out his mouth. But eventually, he looked up, turned to Clara, and began to explain. 

“The first batch of agents, me included, all got to choose our own monikers. Champ’s only requirement was that they were alcohol themed. We all thought it was hilarious, and even toyed with the idea of being named after cocktails,” he chuckled, looking up at Clara. 

“Who were the first agents?” she asked. She’d been with the company a long time, but not as long as Jack. Nobody had. 

“Myself, Vermouth, Absinthe, and Cointreau,” he smiled softly, “all of whom are dead now. Died in active duty not long before you started. Everyone I started with was gone in a blink of an eye”. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “So, how did you land on whiskey? Did you all help each other find your names?”. Jack shook his head. 

“Not really. We all had fun thinking of names, but ultimately we had to come to our own decisions. Champ was against me being called whiskey at first. Given my actual name, he didn’t want me to go for whiskey because he felt like I was mocking the position he’d put me in by going for something so obvious . But I had my own reasons, and once he understood them, he had no more questions.”

“What were they?” Clara asked. 

“Lela. The only reason I did anything for the last two decades was because of her,” he smiled to himself as he remembered his wife with fondness, his mind trailing off and all the anger from earlier being replaced with love and adoration. 

“Her and her father didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. She’d dated a few guys in high school before we got together, none of whom he approved of. I’d known their family since we were young kids though, and her old man would always tease her whenever I came over, saying how we should be the ones together,” he chuckled, a slight sombre tone beneath his words now though. 

“Blimey, you must have been a real charmer when you were young then. Whatever happened?” Clara teased, chuckling with him. 

“Shut up,” he grinned. “No, he liked me because I grew up in a very traditional family, and that impacted me a lot. Being teenagers in the 80’s, everyone our age was looking forward to the new world that was unfolding in front of us. I wasn’t against it, and clearly I’m not against the changes we saw that were a stark difference to how our folks grew up twenty years prior. But there was one thing I was still dead set on.”

“And that was?”

“I wanted the ‘ nuclear family ’, and so did Lela. I would have supported her in any type of career she wanted, of course. But I still wanted a wife, kids, and I wanted to do all that while we were young. Her father approved of me for that reason, and called me ‘ old fashioned ’ for upholding the same kind of tradition he was brought up with.” 

Jack paused for a moment, biting back tears at the memories. 

“You’d do alright with Daniels, you know. He’s a good kid, and not one of these daydreamers that you keep fancying the pants off. He’d give you a good life, Lela,” he’d overheard her father say one day. 

“I know, Pa, I really do. But he’s such a good friend, I doubt he’d see me that way,” Lela had said, breaking Jack’s heart to think that she had no idea how much he adored her. 

“Lela you’re as daft as your mother some days. That boy has been glued to your hip since y’all were ten, and he ain’t never put a foot wrong by you. I see how he looks at you, Lela. He’d make you a fine husband. A good, old fashioned, gentleman.”

“Us four went out for drinks the night before Champ’s deadline for our monikers. I instinctively ordered an old fashioned, and that’s when it clicked. I could honour her through the liquor that made the very cocktail her and her family would lovingly nickname me with. I told Champ that my reasoning went beyond just me sharing my name with a particular brand of the stuff, and he accepted it. And so, Whiskey was born.”

Clara’s eyes widened as she saw the pain and anguish in Jack’s face again as he relived losing his wife, and the life he had lost all those years ago. He didn’t really talk about Lela before the accident, and it was only rare that he brought her up now. Each time he did would take her by surprise. 

Hearing that Champ even considered giving out Whiskey to anyone else, given where the namesake originated from, lit a simmering anger in Clara. For a man who was always so fair and reasonable, this seemed to stoop so low for Champ’s standards. A pain tugged at her chest as she saw Jack trying desperately to hold his facade together. 

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I promise, if I’d have known, I’d have never taken your moniker,” she said, grasping his knee tighter. Jack smiled softly, placing his own hand over hers, and nodded. 

“I know, Clara. It isn’t your fault,” he said. 

“And it isn’t hers either, you know?” she said after a beat of silence, reminding him of the reason for this conversation in the first place. 

“...I know…I’ve been such a cunt,” he laughed through his nostrils, in disbelief almost that he’d let this go so far. 

“Jack, can I put a theory to you?” Clara asked, although it wasn’t really a question. 

“Sure,” he sighed. 

“Do you think there’s a part of you that doesn’t want her to be Whiskey, because it’s a senior title. And with a senior title comes more responsibility…and more danger. Perhaps this has got nothing to do with the name, really?” she asked, sensing that this still went beyond you having his former moniker. 

“What are you saying, Clara?” Jack asked, his brow knitted together. 

“You care about her. Everyone can see it, Jack. Everyone except you.”

The thing is, she was absolutely on the money. He did care about you, and greatly. And while there was initially some hatred brewing towards you since you got the name Whiskey, something he still deep down associated with himself, that soon got swept up in the wind. It didn’t matter really who had what moniker; at the end of the day, they were all just names anyway. 

But Clara had hit home the thing he’d been trying to bury for a long time. The fact he gave a shit about you made it increasingly difficult to accept you were now in a position where you’d be more at risk. After losing so much, the mere thought that he could potentially lose you now…it was unbearable. 

His anger had blinded him. 

“Maybe,” he said, voice cracking and quiet as he sat for a moment with the consequences of his actions. 

“Go see her, Jack. Sort this mess out. If not for your sake, for everyone else’s. Planning the work Christmas party is becoming a logistical nightmare while you two are stuck in this fucking domestic,” she chuckled. 

“Aren’t domestics usually reserved for couples ?” Jack laughed. 

“Couples, situationships, or agents and their training officers who make out on gymnasium floors…anything, really!” Clara said. She bit her lip to prevent a wide smile blossoming out onto her face while she was still uncertain how Jack would take the joke. But, to her delight, his mouth dropped open before being followed by a grin. 

“ How do you- Eve!” he cursed, then laughed along with her. 

“Nothing stays secret here for long. Not when it comes to you two,” Clara smirked. 

“It isn’t what it looks like!” Jack said, now hopping to his feet. 

“Oh yeah, what is it then?” Clara asked. 

It was then Jack realised that he had absolutely no idea. Your plans to talk things through fell out the window when anger had taken over every sense in his body that afternoon you got promoted. 

“I…I don’t know, actually,” he blushed, “we…we never talked about it”. 

“And who’s fault was that, then?”

“Mine,” he said sheepishly. 

“Well then,” Clara slid off the seat, “it looks like you two have a lot to catch up on. I suggest you run along, Jack”. 

You

“Is he still being cold with you?” Astrid asked, fiddling with one of your desk pens in her fingers. You nodded, finally setting down your own stationary to give yourself a proper break. Work had been so full on that you and Astrid had barely had a moment to talk between her missions and your training work. Even when the two of you were working together out in the field, you had to stay so focused on every detail of your mission that there was barely any down time. And the time you did get away from everything, you let Astrid prioritise her time with Tequila. The agents shouldn’t technically even be dating, but you were happy to keep your nose out of their business for as long as it didn’t compromise the mission. 

“He’s being a nightmare. And just when I thought the two of us might be free from each other’s shackles, Champ tells me today that he wants to consider officially partnering the two of us together. I mean, can you imagine? We’d kill each other,” you scoffed. 

“Oh, fuckin’ hell,” Astrid bit her lip, “still not spoken to him about the kiss then, I take it?”.

You sighed to yourself, shaking your head. As time passed you’d forced yourself to think less and less about that day in the gymnasium. And then the kiss that happened not long ago…

“No, we haven’t. Neither of them”. 

“Neither?! What have I missed?!” Astrid asked, now significantly more bolt upright in her chair. You sank back into yours, covering your face with your hand and grunting under your breath. 

“We kissed more recently, in a training session,” you admitted. For some reason it felt like some dirty little secret, akin to an affair, and honestly you weren’t sure why you never told Astrid. Aside from how fucking confused it left you, there was no harm in someone knowing the details, really. 

“How the hell did that happen?” she asked, her eyes wide and her body now leaning forward to rest on your desk. 

You dared to look up from the palm of your hands and couldn’t help but giggle as Astrid stared back at you with a wide grin, her demeanour totally changed within a second. She was impossible to not adore.  

And so, you told her. Every dirty little detail about that day, what he did, what had led up to it. You just about managed to feign off her short angry outbursts when you recited the words Jack had said to you that day, reminding her that you more than put him in his place thereafter with each training session that followed. 

“So you’ve not even acknowledged it?” she asked, her brow furrowed as you shook your head. “Jesus...no wonder you can currently cut the tension between you both with a knife”. 

You scoffed out a short laugh at that, because for as much as you’d tried to hide it, you knew she was right. Both of you were terrible at pretending that everything was alright, and you just had to thank your lucky stars that so far you hadn’t been paired with each other and someone else who would be able to call you out on it. 

You opened your mouth as if to speak, before a knock at your office door interrupted you both. Astrid furrowed her brow with you as she turned in her seat towards the dark oak paneling, as you asked whoever stood the other side to enter the room. 

The door cracked open, creaking on its hinges, and you made a note to get maintenance out at some point to check that over. You both watched as a strong hand wrapped around the door, and pushed forward into the office.  

“Hey,” Jack said timidly, only his head and shoulder sticking around your door. “Is now a good- oh . Hey, Astrid…” he said, cowering slightly. 

“Hello, Jack ,” she sneered, and you had to stop yourself from laughing at her biting back at him. 

“Sorry, I’ll come back later,” Jack said, feeling unwelcome in your office. 

Astrid looked to you for confirmation, sensing the switch in his demeanour versus what she had seen in him these past few months. You nodded to her as a signal. 

“Jack, stop,” Astrid cut in, making him pause and look back towards you, “I was just heading out anyway”. 

“Oh, no, I- you didn’t have to-,” he stammered as he stepped into the office cautiously, watching as Astrid stood from her seat and strode across the room. She approached him and got on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear; 

“This best be a fucking apology, Seltzer,” she said, her words laced with anger that he undoubtedly deserved after how he had treated her friend, and with a nervous gulp, he nodded. 

“Yes, ma’am. See you soon, Astrid”. 

Astrid grinned up at Jack and then turned to you, giving you a little wave before heading out the door. You chuckled to yourself at her, before turning your attention to Jack, and sitting back in your seat. He still stood rigid and fixed to the ground, seemingly unable to move. 

“Jack,” you smiled sweetly, maintaining the professionalism you’d had to plaster on your face ever since your falling out, “What can I do for you?”. 

“Well, I- it’s not what you can do for me , actually. But rather what I can do for you ,” he explained, slowly approaching your desk.. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that then?” you said. 

“An apology. And a fuckin’ good one, at that,” he said. You smiled taut at the older man, before crossing your arms across your chest.  

“I’m listening”. 

Jack approached your desk and tentatively took the seat across from you. He leant forward in the seat and clasped his hands together, a grounding trick that Loretta had taught him, and took a few deep breaths before looking up at you. 

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting with you recently, London. You never deserved the way I’ve been treating you, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you. I feel you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot recently, and that is all entirely my fault. I ain’t handled your promotion well, despite the fact you’ve been nothing but wonderful to me this entire time,” Jack said. “And I wanna make right by you.”

“And how do you intend to do that?” you asked. 

“How about I take you out for dinner? It ain’t much, but I feel like you and I would very much benefit from getting out of this place and wiping the slate clean,” Jack said, a watery smile on his face. . 

You smiled at him as you mulled over your options - on the one hand you weren’t sure that jumping straight into going out to dinner with Jack was entirely wise, given how you hadn’t even still acknowledged your kisses. But on the other hand, perhaps he was right. Maybe the thing you needed to be able to have these conversations would be to go out, get away from the Statesman grounds, and leave it all behind for an evening. Forget your lives here, and for one night just be two friends catching up. Try and make amends, and patch up what had undoubtedly been broken. 

After a moment of deciding, you nodded, and watched as a wide smile broke out on Jack’s face. 

“Sure, Jack, that sounds nice. How does this Friday sound?” you asked. 

“Works for me, sugar!” he said, and you grinned at the pet name, now something all too unfamiliar to your ears. How you’d missed it…

“Six o’clock in the evening alright for you?” he asked. 

“Don’t be late, Jacky,” you said, winking at him as he stood from his seat. He laughed through his nose at you, then tipped his stetson towards you with the tip of his middle and forefinger. 

“Never, m’lady. I ain’t fucking up with you again in a hurry.” 

Series Masterlist | A03 Link | Tumblr Masterlist

[austinstyles]

Top 10 favorite movies. 🎥

( in no particular order but all are in my top 10)

1. Elvis (2022)

2. Kingsman golden circle (2017)

3. My Big Fat Greek Wedding (2002)

4. Cinderella (2015 is the one I prefer.)

5. My big fat Greek wedding 2 (2016) (yes I enjoy all of the 3 my big fat Greek wedding movies. And all the movies are definitely in my top 30 list of favorite movies. )

6. Beauty and the Beast (1991 and 2017)

7. High School Musical 2 (2007)

8. Monte Carlo (2011)

9. Barbie (2023)

10. Sharpay fabulous adventure (2011) 

People I want to see do this: @austinbutlermischief @april-bandu-embata @abswifey @adoresbutlers @ab4eva @venus-haze @moonchildstyles @missmaywemeetagain @morby @sansaorgana @sagesolsticewrites @sassy-ahsoka-tano @stargazing-imagines @lindszeppelin @louisejoy86 @etherealising @dre6ming @daysofyellowroses @codysmoon @carmenized-onions @carmenberzattosgf @thebearer @purejasmine @plymptontwin @meaningful-negativity @majestyjade @thecapricunt1616 and anyone that wants to join.

(Ether make this post a long chain or post your own.