#agent whiskey/oc

[lady-bess]

May 2024 Fic Recommendations

Here are my May fic recommendations! Not all of these fics were released this month, I might have just read them, or some of their chapters, this month!

Please see the individual warnings/ tags on each of the fics below!

Don't forget to support your favourite authors by liking, commenting, and reblogging! 💕

Tumblr fics

"Home" by @morallyinept (Joel Miller x F!Reader)

"Broken Without You" by @sourwolf-sterek32 (Joel Miller x F!Reader)

"Big Sky Country" by @avastrasposts (cowboy!Frankie x OFC)

"Palomino" by @fuckyeahdindjarin (Jack Daniels x F!Reader)

"Love at First...Fight" by @goodwithcheese (Jack Daniels x F!Reader)

"Braces" by @joels-darlin (Jack Daniels x F!Reader)

"Making It Up To You" by @agentwhiskeysdarlin (Jack Daniels x F!Reader)

"Forget" by @palioom (Jack Daniels x F!Reader)

A03 fics

"Under Your Skin" by @wannab-urs (Jack Daniels x Javier Peña x F!Reader)

"Ghostly Touch" by @absurdthirst & @wardenparker (Jack Daniels x F!Reader)

Masterlist of all fic recs

[cranes-menagerie]

If I had a nickel for every time a special interest in a character spawned a dnd character into existence-

art by @mjtheartist04 @gay-trashcan-cat @littlemissatlas

I'd have a consistent income

It's even worse bc I watched the dndorks "be mutant, do crime" oneshot, and I fell in love with the little Catholic German boy

[artistesoiree]

Nightfall in Sunridge Ranch

Chapter 1

{'70s Jack Daniels x Fem!OC)

Chapter 2

Rating: Mature Warnings: Mentions of blood and draining blood (she's a vampire, I feel it's a given), drug mention, mc is a bit eerie and her thoughts can be a bit troubling, Likely incorrect things about the 70s and Paris, France, as I was born in '02 and haven't been outside the PNW since I was born, Jack's too suave for his own good and probably shouldn't flirt with vampires, I hope he isn't OOC? Veronica's maker is interesting…(and is named after my favorite IWTV character) but I'll get into that in later chapters, takes place in the late 70s in a made-up Texan town WC: 3.8k

A/N:

Howdy, y'all! I wanted to write this because I've been recently inspired to begin writing again. I was inspired by Interview with the Vampire, 70s Texas, little bit of Ethel Cains Album Preachers Daughter, and my own OCs. The writing might be rough, but I'm proud of it. It's told in the first-person POV, and I hope you guys like Veronica as much as I do. She's a wreck and a weirdo .Oh, and the introduction was inspired by the beginning of The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice.

headers by @/saradika

I am Veronica Sharpe. I am a vampire who stands six feet tall. I have been blessed with my mother's black curls and my father's family's white streak in it. I have my mother's pale complexion, cheekbones, plush lips, and aquiline nose. I have my father's slender green eyes. My father gave me his height, while my mother gave me the gift of a body with feminine curves. Over the years, while I have maintained my feminine body, I have gained muscle, which has dramatically complimented my figure. I am a strong woman. I am proud of that.

I was only twenty-one when I was turned in the year 1904. I lived in Paris, France, and several lovers sought my hand. One of them was my maker, Armand Sharpe. He was a tall man with a fine figure, and he loved his beautiful clothes and long silk like red hair. He collected art pieces and hung them in his home. He had found me painting in the Jardin des Plantes and asked kindly if he could buy one of my paintings. Armand loved his beautiful women; I was flattered to be one of them. 

He always talked about how I should be grateful that I remain eternally beautiful, that I will never age like most women, and that my youthful beauty will never leave. He always seemed too proud of it. And I am grateful, his beauty is like mine, eternal.

Although I am thankful that I remember my mother, father, and sister, Armand, when we first met, had made it possible for me to have photographs of my family. While I don’t remember my family name, I remember their names. My mother was named Estelle, and my father was Laurent, and my sister was Lucille. But sadly, I don’t know the name my mother gave me when I was born. I expressed my discomfort with not remembering my name to Armand, and he thought of a name for a moment until he told me that my name must be Véronique. It is a beautiful name, a one I deserve.

As time passed, my name changed from Véronique to Veronica. This transition came in ‘64 when a waitress misheard my name and called me Veronica in a thick southern California accent. She was a lovely gal. She was a Barbie blonde wearing a baby blue uniform, which suited her tanned skin tone. Her hair was styled like Farrah Fawcett's and smelled like Adorn Self-Styling Hair Spray. Veronica stuck. The transition was freeing from the name my maker and husband had given me. The name Armand would use to beckon me to his room was the name he would call with desire. 

I am very thankful to the waitress at that Los Angeles diner a couple of years ago; she gave me a new name, and may never know what it meant to me. I am sure Armand felt the same way, it is a gift to give a name to someone.

As I make my way along the winding Interstate 10 in Texas, the sky is painted with the last hues of the sunset, giving way to the emergence of countless stars. The radio fills the car interior with the nostalgic melody of John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads." This song has been the background to my travels for the past couple years. With my hand resting on the smooth, black leather steering wheel of my 1964 Ford Mustang, I tap my fingers in time to the music. The car, painted a deep raven black, seems to blend seamlessly with the night. Despite the darkness, I wear my circular black sunglasses with their delicate silver frame. It might strike some as odd to wear sunglasses at night, but I do so to conceal my naturally eerie and unnerving green eyes, a feature that has often drawn unnerving attention. 

I’ve never understood why they were unnerving. They’re my eyes; they’ve been green since childhood. Is there something I’m missing? Green is the color of the earth, why must I have to cover my beauty.

The fuel gauge on my dashboard is hovering dangerously close to empty, and as I glance out the window, a highway sign catches my eye. It reads, ‘Visit Sunridge Ranch, Texas! The Cowboy Capital of the USA!’ I find myself humming in response, realizing that not only do I need to refuel, but it might also be a good idea to find a place to stay for the night. The sun will rise soon, and although I won't burst into flames like in fiction, its rays will still leave me with a nasty sunburn, turning my pale skin red. It’s embarrassing. Armand would scold me like a child when I would come home red. As my husband, he often acted like a father, not my own. Oh no, he decided my father wasn't useful and took him away from me.

As I made my way into town, I was struck by its quaint charm and the subtle nods to its cowboy past. Before heading to the nearby motel, I decided to fill up my car with gas. As I approach the motel, I couldn't help but notice the small sign featuring a cowgirl riding a horse and the name "Desert Ranch Motel." It seems like a beautiful place to spend a day. The sign advertised a pool I plan to enjoy once the sun had set.

I hear the soft jingle of a bell as I push open the heavy wooden door to the front desk. Standing behind the counter is a woman who seems out of place in this ordinary setting. Her immaculate appearance and bored expression tell me she'd rather be anywhere else. I glimpse her name tag and see "Barbara" etched onto it. 

"Welcome to the Desert Ranch Motel, where the Old West meets comfort," she recites in a dry, monotone voice. "What kind of room are you looking for?"

The weirdest thing is that Barbara jumps when she looks up at me and tries to act as if she hadn't jumped. Am I creepy? Surely it cannot be my eyes, they cannot be creepy in this light. Was it my staring? My eyes burning into her.

As she asked if I was interested in the suite, I responded, "I will take the suite." I respond, there is nothing fancy about the way I said it. It was monotone. Following my response, she picked up the check-in book to check for its availability, or at least that's what I assumed she was doing.

"Sure... that'll be no problem," she says, keeping her pretty blue eyes on my figure as she checks the lodging book. That will be 15 dollars for the day," Barbara says uncertainly as I hand her the cash. She carefully notes my name in the lodging book and gracefully passes me the key. "The room is 28B. I hope you have a pleasant stay, ma'am," she says.

The prominent feature of the chain is a weathered cowboy pendant suspended from it, effortlessly enhancing the town's rustic charm and Western essence. I wonder who made it; it looks like an artist had a hand in making it. 

As I make my way down the hallway to 28B, the weight of my luggage is a reassuring reminder of the countless times I've journeyed down this similar hallway. I navigate the stairs quickly. Arriving at the end of the hallway, I reach for the doorknob and swing the door open. A smile spreads as I take in the view before me.

The wooden door creaks open as I enter the room, unveiling a spacious living area. The room features a sunken seating area adorned with vibrant patterned cushions encircling a central sunken pit that could double as a fire pit. The brick fireplace is the main focus, making everything warm and comfortable. 

Large windows flood the space with natural light, offering picturesque views of the pool outside. The high ceiling is adorned with several elegant hanging lights that glow warmly throughout the room. The inviting atmosphere makes it a pretty space to spend time and relax.

Behind the conversation pit, the bed steals the attention, decorated with a striking orange comforter and decorative pillows. The bedframe and nightstands complement each other, showcasing a matching wood. The clock on the nightstand displayed 3:02 am, signaling the impending arrival of dawn. Hungry from my long drive from San Antonio, I couldn't ignore the persistent itch of blood thirst at the back of my throat. As the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon, I felt the familiar hunger gnawing at my insides. It is different from a human's regular hunger pains; my stomach feels as if it’s going to turn inside out, and I might die. 

The craving for blood pounded through me, and I know I couldn't ignore it much longer. But living in this arid, desolate town presented a challenge—no nearby life sources could quench my thirst. Then it hit me: In such a deserted town, there is an option: to search for the presence of rats. Although I don't like the taste of rat blood, it satisfies my thirst for blood. Or perhaps the local diner could provide a solution. I could order a rare steak and let its rich blood juices satiate my hunger for the night. I always thrived while killing; there is something so satisfying about that iron-rich liquid spilling down my throat.

As I leave the dimly lit motel room, I check that my purse is securely slung over my shoulder. I mentally record the contents within—my wallet holding a substantial amount of cash, my ID, and the all-important hotel room key. Opening it, I make sure that my favorite perfume is safely nestled among the other items. Knowing I'll smell good despite the bloodbath I’m going to put myself through does put a smile on my face. 

I stroll across the road from the motel to The Kingsman Diner, relieved to see that it is open 24 hours a day. Knowing that no matter what time, I can always find a warm meal here is a comfort. Approaching the front door, I couldn't help but notice a small cluster of mice scurrying around towards the back of the diner.

Sneaking towards the back of the restaurant, I quickly grab a mouse and sink my fangs into its body. Draining the blood from it and tossing it into the garbage. I continue doing this to a few more mice, draining and tossing.  It is not human, but it will do for the night. I need to drink multiple in order to feel fine.

Lost in my bloodthirst, I fail to notice the creak of the back door swinging open. Suddenly, a gruff and low voice startles me from behind.

"Darlin, what are you doin’ near my garbage?" The man asks, and I freeze, realizing someone had caught me. I feel my heart racing as I quickly toss the mouse into the garbage and turned to face him. There was a little blood on my chin, and my hands are stained from the unsuccessful attempt to clean up the mess.

What am I doing? Did Armand’s lessons in cleanliness and manners exit my brain the first moment I stepped foot on American soil? I should vanish now. Wipe his memory, he never saw me.

But as I answered, "Nothing," he gave me a questioning look, and I’m grateful for the overhead light illuminating his face. He was very handsome, with a man in his forties with a strong, tall frame, warm brown eyes, and a mop of dark brown, short hair. A well-groomed mustache adorned his upper lip, adding to his cowboy appeal. He stood before me in well-worn jeans cinched with a leather belt, an apron over his chest, and a vibrant blue flannel shirt. He held a black Stetson cowboy hat in his hand, completing the look of a true cowboy. God, he has kind eyes, clean-shaven eyes, and a beautiful smile. And a confident swagger to him, Armand never really had that sort of confidence or swagger. He was quiet and foreboding. 

"Why do you have blood on your hands and chin there, Darlin?" The man asks, squinting his eyes and furrowing his brow as if trying to assess my appearance. My mind races as I desperately tried to come up with some sort of plausible excuse. "Were you drainin’ those rats?"

I stammer nervously in response, causing his brows to furrow even deeper. "I, uh, yes...?" I admit, my voice trembling slightly. "I may have taken ecstasy in my motel room. It seemed like a good idea at the time. In the past I loved to drink the blood on ecstasy, it feels lovely."

"Why in the world would drinkin’ rat blood even cross your mind as a good idea?" the handsome man asks, leaving me speechless. Incompetent to conjure a coherent response, I found myself unable to answer him. How about we forget this ever happened, and I whip up something to satisfy that hunger of yours?"

I nod eagerly, awaiting his following words. "What are ya in the mood for?"

"Can you make mashed potatoes and a rare steak? It's been far too long since I've had a meal like that, not since I left San Antonio," I tell him, wiping the extra blood on the sleeve of my black blouse. It won’t be seen anyway. His face cringes for a moment as I do that. God, he needs to stop staring at me.

As the man mulls over my request briefly, he gently scratches his chin and nodded in agreement. "Come on in. Why don't ya take a seat at the counter," he offered as we entered the cozy diner. "Maybe after you freshen up a bit..."

Pausing, I glance down at my hands and suddenly became conscious of my messy appearance. The fancy clothes I bought for myself have blood splatters on me, and my hair is nowhere near presentable. I should’ve washed up in my motel room. 

"Oh, excuse me, where can I find the restroom?" I ask, and he gestures towards the doors at the back of the diner, clearly marked 'Men' and 'Women.' 

"I'll be back. I'm sorry you had to see that, handsome stranger," I say to him with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood. His chuckle is a welcome sound as my eyes wander up and down, finally landing on the name tag labeled ‘Jack’' "Jack, a handsome name for a handsome man," I remark, a twinkle in my eye, nervously laughing. Has it been this long since I’ve been around a man? He must think I'm an idiot. 

Jack’s chuckle resonates through the room, carrying a warmth that seems to surround the entire room. "Not a problem, darlin'," he says in a soothing, reassuring tone, his words comforting to my ears. He flashed a kind and friendly grin, and as he did, the well-earned wrinkles around his eyes deepened, adding character to his face. A rush of heat floods my cheeks, betraying the blush that crept up in response to his gaze. Sensing my reaction, he arched an eyebrow ever so slightly, his eyes shining with a knowing glint. 

Dieu qu'il est beau. (god he is handsome)

“I will be right back, Mr. Jack,” I chuckle nervously before heading toward the restroom. Mr. Jack?! Why would I call him that? Also, I says I would be back not even a minute before. Must I repeat myself like a babbling imbecile?!

I quickly went to the restroom, but the encounter was still fresh in my mind. As I stand in front of the mirror, I meticulously wash away the stains from my face and hands, taking care to remove every trace of the blood. It's hard to believe that my first impression of this rugged man was being covered in blood. I can't help but wonder what  Armand must think of me. I did always turn to him for advice. He was always a posed man; he would get angry when I wasn’t. 

But I do not remember even doing anything that vastly embarrassing with him. Did I do something wrong when I was with him? Have I always been this way, and he was helping me? Should I have not left him? I cannot act like a lady around a handsome man who saw me draining mice near his garbage. Well, not that it is a ladylike thing to do, but there are nicer ways of satisfying my thirst. But fuck being ladylike, Armand would use that word so often I never liked it.

Wait, that businessman wanted to get with me at that party in ‘71. Why am I realizing this now?  Have I always been this aloof? I need to do better.

“Bloody lady, ya doin’ alright?” I hear Mr. Jack from just outside the door, “You’ve been in there for twenty minutes or so,” 

“Sorry, I got lost in thought. I’ll be out in a minute!” I reply, and my cheeks redden due to my embarrassment. Splashing water on my face, I walk out of the restroom with a slightly embarrassed smile, rocking on my heels momentarily. “Sorry about that, it’s been a long day.” 

Mr. Jack chuckles again, “‘s alright, darlin’ you not from ‘round here, aintcha?” He asks as I sit down at the counter where he’s prepared my food. God, it looks delicious. Staring at him, a little confused, he smiles again. “You ain’t got an accent like us, ya almost sound European.”

“No, I’m not from around here. I was born in Paris, but I’ve been traveling alone for a while,” I reply, grabbing the fork he’s set out for me. He tilts his head, confused.

“Ya look lil young to be travelin’ for a while,”

“M-My…uhh-” I begin trying to find a good excuse: “My family ages well. I am in my thirties,” Okay, that’s not a bad excuse, and it’s true I do not age. Thanks, Armand; one of the only good things about this gift he gave me. He still deserves to die, though. 

"Well, I’ll be damned ya do look good, sugar,” Jack tells me with a suave smile on his face, “that white streak in ya hair is real pretty too, them eyes of yours are real pretty too. I always liked green eyes on ladies,” 

“Why thank you, Jack. You sure know how to make a lady blush,” I giggle momentarily, hiding my face behind my hand, and while taking a bite of the steak he made me, and god if it isn’t delicious. That cowboy sure knows how to make a meal. 

He and I both chat for a while and continue eating the meal he had prepared. He pauses for a moment before asking, “You says you were born in Paris, that meanin you french?” 

“I suppose?” I reply, thinking for a moment. “I grew up there, my parents were born there too. But I have not been there for good while, I am losing my accent.” 

“Clearly, you barely sound French anymore, sugar. Are you still speakin’ the language?” he asks, and I nod with a bright smile.

“Oui, j'aime toujours cette langue,” I say, and his eyebrows raise. Is he impressed? “I say, yes, I still love the language.” 

Jack chuckles as he takes my empty plate and cleans it quickly while I wait at the counter. Should I wait for him to come back? Or should I leave? This feels weird. My legs begin to sway underneath the counter, waiting for him to come back, my chin resting on the backs of my hands. 

He comes back a couple of minutes later, and I've been looking around the diner, taking in the details of it all. It’s a very cozy diner. The warm lighting adds to that. If I lived here, I would be a regular, I know it. 

“How long you in town sugar?” He asks, snapping me out of my daydream. 

“As long as I want, I tend to keep myself in different towns for a few days before leaving. But I can stay in a spot for months if I’d like. Why do you ask?”

“I wanna offer you a job, if you’d like it. It would be watiressin’ but it pays good with tips.”

My eyes widen for a moment. Is he serious? His expression says he isn’t; extra cash would be nice. I have been running out of it since I left France and stole an excellent sum of Armand’s fortune. It would be nice to stay in one spot long and not be on the run. He also did find me with blood all over me. Why is he offering me a job? Did he not find me in the back with blood all over me..he does not have good awareness.

“I like that a lot. It would be nice to have extra money and save up a good sum.” I say to him, and his lips curl into an almost sly smile. He looks too mischievous with that mustache of his, but that is a reason he’s a joy to be around. He is much better than Armand, so much better.

“Sounds like a plan darlin’ let me get ya the uniform,” He tells me, walking to a closet in the back and coming back with two things, a red dress, it has short sleeves and seems that it would end at my knees. What’s in his other hand is an apron, simple enough. “Here’s the uniform, keep your hair in a bun and simple earrings. You got shoes that could go with it?”

Pausing, I think back to the clothes in my luggage, more specifically, the shoes I’ve been carrying with me. There are a couple of options, and others that would never work for that uniform.

“Would a pair of red-heeled sandals work?” I ask, unsure if that’s what he is asking for. 

“I believe they would darlin’. You can wear those with the uniform. Have you ever waitressed before?”

“When I was in Paris, I worked briefly for a cafe. Is this similar to that?”

“You’ll do great sugar. Now go get some rest and I’ll see you here at 2pm okay?” He asks, and I nod quickly, my arms gathering the uniform he handed me in my arms. 

When I leave the diner, the sky is empty; spare it for the stars sprinkling in the sky. This town is eerily quiet. Paris was loud, and so was Los Angeles. I like quiet; I've always liked quiet. Maybe I should stay here. Until Armand uses his fledglings to find me again, then I will run. I do miss him, the chase is more fun knowing he misses me. But for now, I will stay. 

I hope y'all enjoyed it! I do plan to have more chapters, as this is just the beginning; I've got a bunch planned!

Taglist: @morallyinept @604to647

[yomi345345345]

@fartthepart the buddies.

[pebblesmustard]

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

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

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

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

Word count: 7k

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

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

....

Waking up had been slow going today.

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

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

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

When had he gotten so lucky?

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

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

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

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

Jack’s kiss would be a reminder.

Mateo’s would be a benediction.

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

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

“Mornin’. You sleep well?”

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

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

“Is that complainin’ I’m hearin’?”

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

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

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

-----

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

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

Thank God for Jack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not like he hadn’t tried.

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

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

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

He couldn’t possibly deal with this now.

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

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

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

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

How dare he?

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

What could he have even written that would be worthwhile?

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

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

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

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

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

-----

Jack had never been so worried.

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

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

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

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

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

Jack couldn’t possibly say no.

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

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

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

But something about this was different.

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

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

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

“Shit, yeah sorry. I must’ve forgot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

Mateo had never been so unsure before.

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

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

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

How dare he?

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

He wanted to write back.

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

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

He just wanted to know: why?

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

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

Jack must be a saint, he thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

Or so he thought.

He remembers them, then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He never could fool his heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His heart never really did heal from that one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

So, he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s he saying then?”

Mateo bristles.

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

So, he waits.

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

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

He never could hide from him long.

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

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

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

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

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

How dare he?

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

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

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

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

He knows he’s being a wimp.

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

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

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

“Scares you how?”, Jack asks.

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

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

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

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

Mateo sees himself in those lines.

His heart stutters a beat at the realization.

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

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

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

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

Mateo squeezes his eyes shut against the memory.

He sucks in another breath. Lets it out.

He wants to unfold.

Jack wants—and deserves—to help.

So, he begins.

-----

Waking up was slow going this morning.

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

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

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

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

He was intent on being the rock Mateo leaned on.

And Mateo leaned.

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

A suggestion that he actually thought would be useful.

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

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

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

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

Mateo could find solace in Jack for that kindness alone.

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[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:

[harveybwabbit92]

[The twins and Briar (Aka: Ginger Emmet.) are trying to help Jonas find a girlfriend, so far it’s been a strenuous task there at the Cabaret E-S/o works at part-time at working out plans.]

Briar: I don’t know why you want my opinion on picking up girls...I’m gay.

Ingo, points to himself: Bisexual (points at Emmet.) Pansexual, now start brainstorming mister.

Briar, to Jonas: Ok...Jo, How do you act around women?

Jonas: At work...or off work?

{Briar looks at the twins they shrug.]

Briar: uh, the second one?

Jonas: Alright. *A-hem* Evening ma’am might I say, your skin is looking mighty soft...(Runs his fingers along Briar’s arm) 

Briar, smacks Jonas’s hand away weirded out: Ok, If I were a woman I’d have screamed and had my Hitmonchan punch you in stomach for that, don’t act like that!

Jonas: Well that’s the best I got alright? We weren’t all voted the sexiest man in Unova like (points at Ingo)Tall, dark and stormy over there! Most women don’t go for guys who are 5′6″!

E-S/o, whose their table’s entertainer for the night: 5′6″? (Jonas barely comes up to their shoulder.) ....You can’t be 5′6″, I’m 5′7″ and Ingo’s wife is 5′5″ there’s no way you’re an inch between us...

[Jonas looks at E-S/o like they’ve just said he will never celebrate another birthday again.]

Jonas, breaks down into ugly sobs: whuaaaauaaa! (Runs out of the cabaret.) 

(Awkward pause.)

E-S/o, calls the bartender over and tries to lighten the mood: Who wants a drink? Drink anyone?

Briar: I’ll just have a cheri coke, I have to drive my daughter to school tomorrow and my husband will kill me if I come home drunk.

Emmet, to E-S/o: I’ll have whatever you having Coffee-cat.~

E-S/o, to bartender: Two red-velvet Crown cocoas.

Ingo, looking the menu: I’ll have a Sour Pecha kid cocktail.

{The next day Ingo went to apologize to Jonas for what happened at the cabaret, only to backtrack when he found a creepy shrine dedicated to I-S/o in the depot agent‘s foot locker. Needless to say. Jonas had to go away for a while..]

[lostinsideourminds]

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

Two things I’ve learned through this,

1) Hands are hard to draw

2) Side profiles are even harder

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

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

[autistic-cowboy]

Okay guys!!!

Absolutely need an Agent Whiskey for my oc, just watched Golden Circle and fell in love with him!! Anyone interested comment or pm me <3

[loreandcreation]

As of August 13th 2024, the canon characters that are still OPEN:

Literally all of them save:

Eggsy Unwin || Galahad

Harry Hart || Arthur

Seriously if we don’t see a body (if they were ‘killed off in the movies’) and/or you can justify how they survived or if they’re a villain and you can justify how they fly under the radar anyone is available.

Only characters that are exceptions to the rule so far are:

Jack Daniels: he was turned into a hamburger

Gazelle: she was hit with the fastest acting neurotoxin

Poppy Adams: overdosed on poisoned heroin.

Brief Intro:

ToOurUnion is an 18+ Kingsman RP server taking place after the The Kingsman: Golden Circle with the rebuilding of Kingsman and their collaboration with the Statesman. You can play a Kingsman, a Statesman, or a civilian with the ability to reserve Canon characters or create your own original characters.

Brief Need to Know:

You will need to prove your age with your D.o.B as this is a 18+ server

Canon character reservations are first come First Serve.

There is a light activity requirement

[lady-bess]

Fallout - Chapter 8 "Back to Basics"

Jack Daniels x F!Reader Explicit/18+ (Minors DNI please) Chapter Word Count: 6.4k Chapter Tags: Trauma response, description of training, description of weaponry, use of a gun, PTSD/Trauma flashbacks, traumatic reaction, grounding, slight intimacy, description of wounds/scars, beginning of a friendship, drinking, eluding to being drunk at times (sensibly).

Series Masterlist | A03 Link | Tumblr Masterlist

<- Previous Chapter (Ch. 7 - "An Encounter")

Training Jack proved to be somewhat difficult - especially when he finally had a weapon placed back in his hands.

A/N: Thinking of changing the artwork for this series...thoughts? Also I'm officially scrapping an upload schedule. I started this as an every Wednesday idea, but I've found it too restrictive. I'm now just going to upload whenever I had a chapter ready! It'll still be regularly that this series gets updated, but that just gives me a bit more freedom!

Your time spent in the bar after work was somewhat different to how you first imagined it to be. Rather than the tipsy affair you had in your head, instead you opted for nursing a whiskey while plotting what training you could offer Jack. You swilled the contents of the glass around briefly as you contemplated what you had planned, your eyes scanning over scrawled notes littering the book you’d been using, before you were joined by a familiar southern drawl. 

“How’s it coming along?” Tequila had asked as he slid into the booth with you, a cold beer in hand. He took a swig of the drink as he got himself settled in next to you as you both awaited the rest of your party to join.

“I think I’ve got it nailed down. Here,” you pushed your notepad over towards Tequila, “have a look and see what you think?”. 

Tequila took another swig from his bottle before setting it down on a coaster and turning his attention to the book you’d been jotting down notes in all evening. Although your meeting with Jack was brief, combined with what Tequila had already told you about his rehabilitation after Jack had left had given you a good framework to start plotting with. You knew before Tex had given you more information that this would have to be a very different training plan, but you hadn’t anticipated just how different. 

Time. That was going to be the main difference - even in spite of the fact Jack had been a very well respected, and highly trained, agent for so many years, there was not an element of this that you could rush. Normally your goal was to get recruits to a high standard as fast as possible, and as you only ever dealt with the weapons training it was simple for you to streamline the process. All your training could be simplified as the more you practise, the better you get.

But Jack would have to be different. The kind of trauma he had faced over his life, totally unchecked too, made you take a different approach. You wouldn’t even dare put a weapon in his hands for a few weeks at least, and only would on the advice of Loretta. 

Tequila nodded slowly as he read over your notes, following the words with his finger - an endearing trait about Tex you’d picked up on when he told you about his dyslexia, and the struggles he sometimes had when it came to the admin side of his job. He’d found ways to make it work for him, and never didn’t turn in his reports, but there were still times you’d see him struggle. Your handwriting probably didn’t help, either…

“Looks good, London,” he said, smiling as he handed you the book back, “are you gonna start training him right away?” he asked. You nodded, placing your ribbon page marker into the book before closing the cover and tucking the book back in your bag. 

“No point delaying things. I imagine Jack’ll want to get going soon anyway. Sounds like he’s been itching to get back out there,” you said, returning to nursing your drink. Tequila chuckled as he took a sip of his drink. 

“You’re not wrong there. For months he was fine, and didn’t want to really think about it. But these last few weeks he’s turned a corner and there’s been a huge shift in him - and for the better, too. He’ll be pleased to know you’ll want to start immediately.” 

You smiled at Tex, finishing the last of your drink. 

“It’s good to have you back. I missed you; we all did,” you said. He pulled you in for a side hug, squeezing you tight into his solid frame. He planted a soft kiss in your hair, then released you. 

“I missed you too, kid.”

You’d spent the rest of that evening catching up with Tequila, finding out about his life in the UK with Astrid, who when she joined the table the two of you both almost broke down in tears after finally being reunited. She coddled you in her arms and it was like no time had passed at all - suddenly it was over two years ago,  the night before you found out where you were being stationed, and the two of you were drunkenly hugging like your lives depended on it. 

Tequila and Astrid would be staying States-side for a while, but that didn’t stop the two of you treating that night like you’d never see each other again. By the time the morning rolled around, and you peeled yourself off your bed, you cursed the fact you’d let Astrid talk you into three rounds of shots to finish the night off. Getting up to brew a pot of coffee, you thanked your lucky stars you’d told Jack to not meet you until the afternoon, and opted to type up his training plan from your work laptop at home so you could at the very least nurse your hangover in the comfort of your sweatpants and no bra. 

Jack’s training plan was a solid one, and this was probably the most thought you’d ever put into a recruit’s programme. Which sounded bad, given that for over a year it had been your job to train the next generation of recruits - but Jack was complicated, he wasn’t a fresh slate like so many who walked in through the doors of your office. There were so many adjustments you needed to make before you could confidently loosen the reins with him like your other students, even if he did technically have more experience than you in this line of work. 

The major adjustment you’d had to make with him was significantly dialling back on the combat and weapons side of things. Having spoken to both Tex and Loretta to get an idea of the kind of rehab programme he’d been undertaking, it was clear that the very last thing you should consider was putting a weapon in his hand. Which was something you knew anyway, but after re-reading his therapy notes once the caffeine hit your system that morning, you thought twice about also getting him involved in physical combat. 

That afternoon, once you’d made yourself look somewhat presentable, you’d started at ground level with Jack, and so began the next two months of you being his 1-on-1 trainer. Meeting at your office, he’d then been given a tour to the site as if he were a fresh-faced twenty-something who had been poached by Statesman, with no prior secret service training under his belt. He’d met all his new colleagues, some of whom he already knew , and learnt about all the recent developments that had happened since he’d been taken off active duty. 

Then, the admin work. How you didn’t pull your hair out with him you’d never quite understand - for a man who had been in a job literally engulfed with technology for the best part of two decades, it was like watching a fawn how to walk on ice when it came to him getting to grips with the new system and the way in which things were filed. Long gone were the days of brown envelopes containing classified information, a system he was so comfortable with, and in with digital. 

After the twelfth consecutive training day of getting him used to the system, you almost lost your rag at him. You were behind on your own paperwork now, with Jack’s training slowly becoming to the detriment of your own cases. At just turned four o’clock one afternoon, with your head in your hands, you grumbled at him. 

“How did you manage before?” you’d asked, genuinely curious how he’d gotten by if he was this shit with technology. He’d just shrugged, wiping his hands across his face in equal frustration at the fact he couldn’t grasp it. 

“I’d had assistants for years! I never needed to worry about any of this shit,” he’d said, which suddenly answered a lot of your questions. 

Jack was the biggest pain in your ass you’d ever known. You thought that for someone who had been given a second chance at life that he might be a little more grateful to the training you were giving him – and in the discreet manner in which you were giving it. Jack didn’t make it easy for you; for as much as you were happy with the cover story that he was brand new to Statesman, the former senior agent spent a fair bit of his time out chatting to other colleagues in a way where it was very obvious he clearly had a past with the company.

But still, you persevered. Sticking to your word, you didn’t tell anyone who he really was, even when you were asked about it. Schmidt had enquired about him on a few occasions.

“Tex says he’s new, but I’m not convinced y’know. Is there more to it?” he’d asked one afternoon you’d gone to get coffees. You’d just shrugged it off, answering with a non-committal, “Not that I’ve been told”.

But in spite of how much you wanted to ring his fucking neck some days, Jack gradually got the hand of it. He saw how much effort you’d put in, and when he’d noticed you not leaving your office one night just to catch up on your own work, he’d seen the sacrifice you were making to your own caseload just to make sure that he was getting the training he’d needed. 

Filled with guilt, he’d brought you a latte that next morning ( with an extra shot of espresso) , and had started pulling extra hours himself to make sure he had it nailed. He would repeat anything he didn’t understand time and time again until he cracked it. You found him one night cooped up in the library by himself in the corner, desperately typing away on a laptop. The smallest quip of a grin could be seen on his face, and you slinked away that evening with a sense of pride that he’d finally started getting it. 

After that night, spending time with Jack slowly got more tolerable. You’d be lying if you said that the two of you hadn’t got off to a rocky start - he was someone who had been so used to getting any privileges handed to him on a silver platter, and now for the first time in years he was actually having to work for it. It had obviously ground his gears, and he’d resented you somewhat while he was getting to grips with everything anew. As his training officer, you became the face of all his misfortune, in his mind you were the reason that he wasn’t progressing faster. 

But once he got over himself and let his ego calm down, he started to see that none of this was your fault, and instead you were doing everything in your power to help speed this along. In a way he started to admire you - how you held yourself, how kind you were, and how far you had come with Statesman in such a short amount of time. The two of you might have still butted heads from time to time, but on the whole it was getting to be a much more amicable relationship the two of you had. 

Finally, Jack started making progress in leaps and bounds. Not only was he finally getting the hand of filing the paperwork, and making record time for some of it now after hours of practice, but Loretta had finally cleared him for using firearms. 

“There ain’t a guarantee he’s totally ready. There never will be, child. But his sessions have been the most positive since I met the guy. I’d say it’s worth a try ,” she’d said. 

You were nervous about the prospect of Jack handling a weapon - you’d read his file and knew what a marksman he used to be, and how he could handle himself in seemingly any situation. Of all the agents who were serving with the organisation at the time of his accident, Jack had suffered the fewest injuries across the entire team, even in spite of how long he had worked here. There was a part of you who worried that he’d try and relive his glory days, and go too far too soon, and you wouldn’t be able to stop him. 

But you trusted Loretta, and if she said his sessions were becoming more positive, and that this was worth trialling, you had no reason to not believe her. She was an honest woman, worth her weight in salt, and would never suggest Jack do something if she didn’t think he was ready to take on the challenge from a mental standpoint. 

So, just over two months after your formal introduction, you were finally in the weapons department. Jack marvelled at how the room had changed since his time in here last - even though this is where the two of you had met, he hadn’t really paid much attention to what this room was like. His focus had more so been pinned on the woman in a waistcoat who was to be his training officer for the foreseeable future… 

There were so many safety features installed here in comparison to when he was last in here for official training duties. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he took in the dozens of additional locks and biometric keypads that now covered the cases of weapons and internal doors to the weapons room, a clear indicator of what went wrong with him. 

You let him have a session just getting used to the feel of the weapons room now - even if Loretta had said he could try the weapons, you were in no hurry to put a gun in his hand on the first day. You’d been strict about it, locking away all bullets and magazines behind a biometric lock tailored to you before his session had even begun, just to make sure that he couldn’t suddenly flip a switch and go all trigger-happy. 

But to your great relief, he didn’t. He happily took in his new surroundings, made notes as to the newer weapons that had come in since his time, as well as just get a feel for what a gun felt like again. 

Jack smiled taut down at the small silver revolver, engraved with Statesman’s ‘S’ on the leather handle. It was not all too dissimilar to the kind of pistols he once carried. It was almost bittersweet to handle them once again, and you stood back and watched how he reacted to having them in his grasp once more. 

“You alright?” you’d asked him. Jack had simply nodded, caressing the metal with his thumb gently, before putting them back in their allocated holder. 

“Yes, ma’am. With your permission, I think I’d be ready for us to start using them in training, if you saw fit,” he’d said. 

Truthfully, you no longer had a reason to say no. Loretta had cleared him, and after a couple of sessions where any and all ammunition had been under lock and key, you were satisfied that he was as ready as he could be to start that part of the training now. 

So, you agreed. 

But when it came to those sessions, you were instantly regretting your decisions. For the first time in weeks you were seeing the cockier side of Jack again, the side you’d come to learn  would come out in a situation when he thought he was the only person who could know the answer. It wasn’t very often he would drag up his prior stint with the agency in a session with you, mainly due to the risk of someone overhearing who was not meant to know anything about his former moniker. But also because he’d agreed, along with yourself, Champ, and Loretta, that he’d likely fare better if he didn’t focus on what once was, and instead only looked forward to what would be. 

You weren’t sure what exactly got into him this morning to make him such a colossal ass , but you had no fucking patience for it anymore. You were almost ready to call the session to an early close, but after making him wait for so long to give this a go, you figured you owed it to your student to at least let him have a go. 

That didn’t mean he remotely appreciated your generosity. 

“I know how to hold a fuckin’ gun, Mimosa,” Jack said, anger evident in his tone and an annoyance seeping in. You rolled your eyes ( for the fifteenth time this session, you might add ) and sighed as Jack gripped the handle on the pistol. 

“You used to know, Seltzer,” you said, earning you a disapproving grunt from the former senior agent. You knew it pissed him off no end to be called by anything other than Jack, or Whiskey, but that was a title his own stupidity has forfeited. You’d happily remind him of that whenever he so needed it - it helped to bring him down a little bit, you found. Normally you’d call him Jack, but today you couldn’t be fucking bothered with his childish attitude. 

“Stop callin’ me that,” Jack murmured under his breath as he started loading the pistol for the first round of shots. He had hoped you wouldn’t notice, but unfortunately for him your hearing was significantly sharper than what he gave you credit for.

“Seltzer, I’ll have less of that,” you said. Jack’s eyes darted up to meet yours, a flush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks as he realised he’d been made. You couldn’t help but chuckle under your breath as you caught the agent, virtually red handed, embarrassed that he’d been found out. 

Or slightly angry. You weren’t sure. 

“Sorry,” he said coyly, breaking eye contact. He rolled his shoulders back, warming up his muscles to get into position and start firing the pistol at the target.

You furrowed your brow as you watched how he held himself, lining his body up for the shot. The muscles in his shoulders tensed all wrong, his arms weren’t bent properly, and his feet were far too close together. You leant back against the bench at the back of the room, lined with weapons and ammunition, and crossed your arms across your chest. Jack wouldn’t hurt himself if he took a shot like this, so you didn’t need to intervene from a health and safety point of view. But you wondered if he took a shot like this, which would inevitably be off-target, it might make him realise he needed more help than he imagined. 

Jack got into position, albeit the wrong one, and inhaled sharply. He knew something wasn’t right, he could feel it. The gun felt too heavy, his arms were locked up, and his body felt like it was twisting in a manner that was now foreign to him. This was something he’d done day in, day out, for over two decades. He plainly refused to accept that he’d forgotten this ability, and instead of doing the sensible thing and asking for a correction, he carried on.

Like an angry bull going after a bull rider.  

He inhaled sharply and squeezed the trigger, releasing a bullet from the barrel, his breath never exhaling as he took the shot. The sensation of the bullet flying out the barrel careered up Jack’s arms and left a shaking feeling coursing round his body, his muscles still locked up and not releasing even once the bullet was out from the barrel. Time seemed to slow down as he watched the bullet fly out across the room, and avoid the target completely. 

Jack sighed at the miss, but what frightened him more than the disappointment that he’d failed was the feeling he was left with after. Not anger, not frustration - but anxiety. Even long after the sound from the shot firing had ceased ricocheting around the bunker the two of you were in, the noise continued to ring in his ear. 

The pitch of the bullet ringing around in his head got louder and more high pitched with every passing moment, and he screwed up his eyes to try and make it go away. It felt like the beginning of a sharp migraine piercing through his skull, and he’d not felt pain like this in a long time. It all concentrated near his temple, where the scar from his accident stood prevalent. 

A few seconds after the failed shot, you looked to Jack and saw that he wasn’t making any effort to move. Not just to get into a better position, but to do anything. He wasn’t reloading the gun, he looked as though he was barely breathing; the only thing that was moving was his face, which was painted with a pained expression. 

“Seltzer?” you said, pushing off the bench to step closer to him. He still held his position, but you could see that something else was taking over control over his body. 

He didn’t respond to your voice. Truthfully, he didn’t hear it. The ringing of the gunshot ran around his head, bouncing off the sides of his mind and sending a piercing shriek through him. Jack grunted, faltering on his stance, and fumbled with his weapon slightly as he tried not to drop it from the pain the noise brought him. He panted, quickly flicking the gun to have its safety mechanism on, before dropping it to the ground in a panic. 

“ Jack ?!” you said, now actually worried. At the use of his real name he seemed to snap out of whatever haze he was in, and his eyes darted around to meet yours. Your heart shattered as you looked in them, and all you could see reflected back was fear. 

“I- that’s never- I don’t know-,” he stammered, his mouth dry and making it almost impossible for him to form a coherent sentence. You unfurled your arms from across your chest and went up to him, reaching out and gently placing your hands around his trigger hand to comfort him. 

Jack shook throughout his body, and beneath your palms you felt every nervous quake which ran down through to his fingers. You gently applied some pressure, trying your best to ground him, employing techniques you’d picked up at MI5 for trauma responses within your colleagues. You’d all seen some shit in your time, and it had become rather useful you’d found. 

Jack closed his eyes, his ears still ringing and the world around him spinning while he stood in place. His heart thudded in his chest and he could hear every beat as blood rushed through his ears. He found himself clinging to you like a lifeline, finding that your touch was the only thing keeping him from completely spiralling. 

With your other hand, you softly interlocked your fingers with his which rested by his side. His hand gripped yours tighter and you watched as he screwed up his eyes to try and calm himself, his breaths deep and steady. With a gentle voice, and getting closer so that you could speak in just a whisper, you spoke. 

“You’re alright, Jack. I’ve got you,” you said. He had no reason to trust you yet on a deeper level, aside from the fact you’d kept the secret about his identity for over two years. But in this one act alone he learned more about you than he perhaps knew about some of his colleagues whom he’d been working with for several years. He’d spiralled a few times over these last two years, and had to learn on his own how best to bring himself back to square one - but perhaps with you by his side, that might be easier. He never imagined that somebody else might be able to quell his troubled mind in any way, let alone how he so desperately needed. 

Slowly, the grip Jack had on you began to loosen, and his eyes opened. You smiled softly up at him, never once letting go of him as he regulated his breathing and began to calm down. He shot you a watery smile once he was calm anew, and you felt him trying to retract from your grip. You let him, pulling your hands away. 

“You alright?” you asked, letting his hands slide out from yours. Jack nodded. 

“Yeah, I- I think so. I’m sorry, ‘bout that…,” he said, looking almost perplexed as to what had just happened. You smiled softly and tipped your head towards a bench at the side of the training room, notioning for him to join you. He followed you to the bench and watched you remove your Stetson, setting it down on the seat to your left, before beckoning for him to take the one on your left. 

“When did you last fire a gun, Jack?” you asked. He shrugged, then sighed. He took his own hat off now, revealing the head of thick brown hair beneath it - albeit slightly more grey at the roots than what you recall from seeing in that photograph of him just over a decade ago. 

“On the day I got injured. One of the last things I heard was gunfire, before I-,” he sighed, again, “-yeah…”. 

“I’m sorry, Jack. Tequila eventually gave me the details of what happened that day,” you said, looking up at him. It was then, without his hat on and so close to you, that you saw the scar on his temple. You gently raised your hand and brushed your fingertips over the scar, and Jack grimaced as you did. Deep down he didn’t hate how the feeling of your soft touch was on his skin, but he couldn’t show such weakness. Not when he was trying all he could to appear tough. 

He sighed solemnly, letting his tough facade slowly fade from view. Of all people, there was no point hiding this side of himself from you - you needed to know as much about how he was doing in order to help him, and he’d be damned if he was about to face setbacks all because he didn’t want his pride to get damaged. 

You retracted your hand from his scar, not wanting to draw too much attention to the area, and instead reached over to take Jack’s hand in yours. Your fingers softly slid between his, but it was Jack who responded with a tightening grip. 

He smiled faintly down at your intertwined hands, the feeling now so foreign to him. It had been a long time since anyone had shown Jack physical affection, and even longer since that affection felt like it came from a place of love and care. After his wife passed he’d not wanted anything with women beyond meaningless hookups, and the second things began to feel more intimate, he’d shut things down. On a couple of occasions he’d entertained the idea, but those relationships never lasted longer than a few months, and as soon as he felt as though she cared more for him than he felt he deserved , he ended things. 

So something as simple as having his hand held, while completely clothed, was almost bizarre. But he noted, as he watched your fingers softly curl around his, and your thumb caress the back of his, that he didn’t hate the way this felt. 

“Thank you, Mimosa,” he said softly, “You’re a credit to this organisation, you know?”.

“Yeah?” you asked, turning to now look at Jack. He turned his head and smiled at you, a pair of deep brown eyes boring into you and making you feel warm and comforted from the inside. Even though it was you who was helping him right now, you yourself took comfort in the gentleness that was reflected back at you. 

“Yes. Tequila really undersold you,” he chuckled. You rolled your eyes, not remotely surprised. 

“Oh jeez, do I want to know what he said about me though?” you giggled, and Jack laughed with you now. 

“Only good things, Mimosa. I promise!” he explained. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about,” you snorted. 

“Oh, stop,” Jack chuckled, his hand gripping yours tighter, “I very much got the impression that the two of you enjoy winding each other up. So for him to still be able to sing your praises? Yeah, I trusted that he meant every word. And he wasn’t wrong; not about a single thing.” 

“Thank you, Jack. That means a lot to hear,” you smiled. 

Jack nodded, then cleared his throat and loosened his grip on your hand. He’d calmed down enough now that he felt as though he could clear up in here for the day, and didn’t want to burden you any longer with his feeling of not being alright. He’d make a point to go and see Loretta after your session, he thought, and as you let him retract his hand from yours, both of you grabbed your stetsons and stood up. 

“You feelin’ better?” you asked, and Jack nodded, putting his hat back on his head. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’m gonna head and see Loretta before our next session, just to go over today. But I think for now I’m gonna have to throw the towel in,” he smiled. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” you said, shaking your head. “This was always going to be a strange adjustment, and a big step to take. See Loretta, and perhaps next session we’ll do more work in weapons that don’t involve guns.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Got anything in mind?” he asked. You grinned, looking over to one of the wall panels which was filled with ropes and lassos. 

“I might have some ideas cooking up, yeah,” you chuckled. 

Jack followed your gaze to the cabinet, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t get a twinge of excitement at the thought of gripping a lasso again. It was one of the parts of his job that he missed the most, the power that came from being so nimble with a whip or lasso. 

He noticed, as he turned back to look at you, the way your fingers danced over the handle of your own whip. He’d seen it before, but he grinned as he watched you fiddle with it, he noticed it was a very similar model to the one he once owned. The way the small switch stood out on the end, signifying yours would turn electric at a moment’s notice, had a buzz go through Jack at the thought of you using it. 

He’d been wanting to ask for a few weeks why you chose that weapon - it wasn’t exactly conventional when he made the choice, and with the amount of technological advancements that had come along since his time he very much doubted that it was any more preferable now. You turned back to look at him and were greeted with a cheeky grin, a far cry to the face of the man who you had just seen almost broken not ten minutes before you. You furrowed your eyebrows in curiosity, and folded your arms across your chest in defence.

“What made you decide to have a whip as your signature weapon, by the way?” he asked, that playful smirk never diminishing. 

Ah, fuck. Busted. 

You cleared your throat, a warmth dancing across your cheeks at the reality you were now faced with. You knew that your decision to carry this weapon out of slight admiration was bound to come up one day, but you had hoped it would be much further down the line than this. You began trying to pace away from Jack, your feet moving towards the door. 

But something stopped you. 

Jack reached out and placed his hand on your arm, effectively stopping you in your tracks. Now you were really done for. You dared to make eye contact with the cowboy again, and butterflies swirled in your stomach as you did. 

“Well? Come on, don’t keep me waitin’. I don’t know many that would choose such a weapon. Colour me intrigued!” he said. 

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled to yourself. You figured there was no better time than the present to rip this bandaid off, anyway…

“Fine, fine! Twist my arm, why don’t you,” you began, clearing your throat and inhaling sharply before continuing. 

“I read your file before I knew about you from Tequila, and your stats impressed me immensely. Your success rate, how little you got injured, and the kind of missions you were involved with. From a professional standpoint, I admired the work you did,” you said. “And then I finally got the chance to speak to Tex about you. He told me so much about you, but one detail that always stood out was your choice of weapon. I’ll admit, I was intrigued.”

“Really?!” Jack said, dropping his hand from your arm and replacing playful smirk for a smile of genuine joy. You chuckled as you watched him, slightly giddy, at the prospect that you might have for a second been inspired by him.  

“Yes, really . I couldn’t get my head around the benefit of a weapon like this,” you gestured to the whip by tapping the handle that was hooked to your hip, “But I was interested in finding out. So, on the downlow, I had my training officer show me the way with one”. 

“Who was your T.O?” Jack asked, the two of you now heading towards the exit. 

“Eve. She’s just got back from a prolonged, and well deserved, break. Have you ever worked with her?” you asked. Jack smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I’ve had the pleasure. Does explain a whole lot about you and your training style though, given she shaped you into an agent.”

“She’s the best. I’ve missed her these last couple of months, but it’s been nice to not be worried about her getting injured recently,” you said. Jack shrugged before opening the door for you, allowing you to step out of the weapons room, then followed by him. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure. From what I recall Eve seemed to have a knack for getting herself into a pickle even when she wasn’t working!”. 

You laughed to yourself as you locked the weapons room door behind the two of you, turning the key in the lock and then entering the code 719002 into the door. He wasn’t wrong about Eve - even if he hadn’t worked with her for a couple of years, his assessment was alarmingly accurate. She was the best agent you’d ever worked with, but her ability to get caught up in minor self-inflicted accidents was almost comical. 

“You’re not wrong, I’ve seen her trip over thin air before,” you said, still giggling. Jack laughed with you, and then softened as you turned to look at him. 

“Thank you, for today. And for your patience in general. I know I haven’t been the easiest agent to train,” Jack said. You chuckled. 

“You can say that again,” you told him, winking playfully as you tucked the key to the weapons room in the inner pocket of your jacket. 

“Sorry,” he winced. 

“It’s nothing, Jack. You’re a pain in my ass, but… I’m coming to like having to deal with your… quirks ,” you chuckled. 

“ Quirks ?!” he said, not able to hold back a laugh. 

“Yes, quirks! You’re bloody impossible sometimes!”. 

Jack laughed with you, then shook his head in amusement. He knew you weren’t wrong, and that he had been reluctant to some of the changes which had been made recently, but every day he was grateful for the attention and devotion you showed him. 

“Okay, okay, fine . I’ll admit it!” he said, raising his hands as though he was in surrender. You giggled, playfully patting the side of his right rib cage gently as a physical way of telling him to knock it off. 

Jack smiled down at you, feeling totally relaxed in your presence. There hadn’t been many instances in the last two years where he’d felt like he was genuinely calm, or at peace. But something about this friendship that was blossoming between the two of you made him feel like nothing had ever gone awry, and that life wasn’t perfect. 

He had to drop his arms down to his sides fairly quickly, as he found the longer he stayed fooling around with you like this, the more he had the urge to pull you in for a huge hug. Something told him that you might not be totally against that, given the fact you’d already not shied away from using physical touch with him where needed, but that was a line he knew he shouldn’t cross. 

“Go see Loretta, Jack. And have tomorrow off, or use it for database study. I don’t want to overwhelm you given today,” you said. Jack nodded. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll let you know when I’ve had my session,” he said. 

“Thank you. I’ll liaise with Champ and Tequila, and let them know about this too. You just get yourself some rest,” you insisted. 

“Thank you, Mimosa. I’ll see you soon,” he smiled, and then the two of you parted ways, heading off into respective parts of the building for the rest of the afternoon.

Even in spite of the drawback Jack had faced today, he was able to walk away optimistic, and with a spring in his step. He knew he still had a long way to go, and the hours he’d need to put into it would be nothing short of monumental. But with you as his T.O, he could actually begin to imagine his life after this was over. 

A second chance. Not one he ever thought he’d deserved, but one he was slowly beginning to earn. 

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[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[artistesoiree]

Nightfall in Sunridge Ranch {'70s Jack Daniels x Fem!OC)

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Rating: Mature Warnings: smoking, drinking, nudity, mind reading spicy thoughts, sexual tension, cowboy hat rule makes an appearance, flashbacks, turning into a vampire, copious amounts of blood, Veronica going into detail describing the men she loves, conflicting feelings, WC: 3.8k

A/N: Here's the second chapter, y'all! I'm sorry it took so long. I was finishing up my college degree and packing my apartment to move back in with my mom. I changed some things about Veronica and her Maker/Husband Armand; he's eccentric; I hope you like him as I do! The aesthetic collage features what Armand and Veronica look like! In my art too :) headers by @/saradika

I confided in Jack about my vampirism one evening after our shift ended. The topic came up when he realized that the math of my age didn't add up. Surprisingly, I felt comfortable sharing this information with him, as he had already seen me at my lowest point when I fed on those mice behind the diner. The night was truly enchanting, to say the least.

Jack's laughter filled the air like a baby tickled with a feather, and the moon shone brightly overhead. It had been an incredible night so far. I had changed into a stunning floral green dress with elegant bell sleeves, a plunging neckline, and a hem that fell just midway down my thighs. I had purchased it the day before, and it perfectly complemented my captivating green eyes. I adore this dress and the confidence it gives me.

“Let me help ya sugar, you ain’t in your right mind to walk,” he says, walking over still giggling to himself as he grabs my hands, helping me to my feet. “Thought you could handle your liquor,”

“I can!” I reply defensively and dusting road rocks from my face, making him laugh even more with that cigarette in his hands. “There is something different about the liquor here than in France,” 

“Ah I forget yer European for a moment, they tend be hussies,” he tells me and taking a puff with his cigarette. I squint my eyes, and he smirks even more. “If you tryin’ to scare me it ain’t gonna work, a pretty like you don’t scare me. I jus’ thought you could handle whiskey,” 

“I can handle whiskey, Mister Jack Daniels, ironic you’re even named after that company. Your mother must’ve loveeeed it,” I tell him, leaning forward to make fun of him, and it only makes him grin even more, that cigarette still between his lips. But that leaning only makes me dizzy. “Oh mon Dieu, j'ai la tête qui tourne…” (oh god I am dizzy). 

“Do ya always speak more french when yer drunk Miss Vee?” He asks and I sigh.

“Give me the cigarette; it is my mother tongue, but I dislike that country anyway.” I hold out my hand for a puff of his cigarette and wait for him to give it to me. But he takes a couple minutes and I realize what he wants. Sighing heavily I say,  “Please hand it to me,” 

“There’s our manners,” He teases me and gives me the cigarette. “Now it’s clear you’re much too drunk to be doin’ anythin’, me too for that manner. You’re stayin at that motel ‘cross the way lets go there and I’ll sleep on the couch of whatever,” 

That doesn’t sound like that bad of an idea, do I have my room key? Quickly checking my purse, okay thank god I do. “Let’s do that, if I can walk properly,” 

And something I hadn’t done in a long time, Armand had taught it to me when I was first turned many years ago, I hear Jack's thoughts as plain as day. 

 I had forgotten I could even do that. 

‘Love to make her not walk properly. Sure she could ride me realll nice’  I hear him say, and my eyes widen as we walk over to the motel. Thankfully, I’m walking in front of him so he cannot see my shocked expression. Widened eyes, but a smirk to my lips. 

It seems we have always had the same idea. 

Once inside my room, Mister Jack flops his body on the couch of the conversation pit, it makes me giggle as he nearly tripped even getting there. “No laughin at me sugar! I am no more able to do anythin’ than you are!” He says, his voice all muffled from the cushions. His cowboy hat falls off when his head pops back up to look back at me. 

But his beautiful brown eyes, eye me up and down and his thoughts pop into my head like before. “I ain’t sure if this the whiskey speakin…but that figure deserves to be without any clothes, covering her far too much..Maybe wearin’ my cowboy hat too…she’d be real pretty ridin’ me..” 

“Let me ask you something Jack, what would happen if I..” I say, swaying my hips and walking to him, and leaning over the back of the sofa. Subtly using my arms to press my breasts together, seeing his not-so-subtle ways of staring at them. I can understand, I have been blessed with wonderful breasts, and their larger size has always helped men stare at me. If that is a good thing, I will never know. “Took your very handsome cowboy hat and put it on my head…would I have to do something in response? Is there a special code I had broken by doing that?”

Jack's eyes are still settled on my breasts as I ask my question. A playful smirk plays on his lips as he thinks of his answer. “There is a certain rule, ladies and cowboys abide by. If a cowboy's hat is taken and placed upon your head sugar, you must ride on said cowboy.” 

“Fascinating! What a lovely rule,” I giggle in response before reaching out and grabbing his cowboy hat and placing it on my own head. My eyes slightly widened with the biggest grin on my lips, seeing his reaction. And as I expected, his thoughts pop back into my head like before. 

‘Well I’m feelin’ like a tornado in a trailer park, she’s lookin’ mighty fine in my hat..she’d be even better with her clothes off and on the floor with only the hat..but who is that man in the frame seated on the nightstand..is she married?’

As I sat engrossed in Jack's conversation, my attention was inadvertently drawn to the photograph resting on my nightstand, capturing a beautiful moment frozen in time.

In the picture, Armand stood proudly beside me, my body adorned in my mother's exquisite wedding dress, holding an intricately arranged bouquet of vibrant flowers. His presence in photographs evoked a sense of timeless charm; he radiated an especially striking handsomeness. His wedding suit exuded impeccable tailoring, and his long, flowing, firey red locks cascaded down like a silken river. The memory of his love-struck gaze and the mystifying golden color of his eyes, brimming with the most romantic smile, became prominent in my mind. His skin was always so sun-kissed, a golden tan that beautifully looked beautiful with his hair.  As I reminisced about that momentous day, I couldn't help but recall that it occurred just a few days before my twenty-second birthday.

It's strange, isn't it? Finding love in the mere presence of his photograph does not fully align with my conflicted emotions toward him. "I see you are looking at this photo..." I remarked as I rose from my seat, retrieved the picture from the nightstand, and walked over to Jack, offering it to him for a closer look.

"Handsome fella," Jack muttered, his finger tenderly grazing Armand's suit in the photograph. Indeed, his observation was accurate. Armand had always been undeniably handsome. He was my husband, and that fact would remain unchanged. I am his wife, and there will forever be a certain love that resides in my heart for him. He had shielded me, even if it meant that I had to clean up the aftermath of his actions. I am and will always be his wife, and that has always been the reality. “Who is he sugar?”

As I run my fingers over the emerald nestled in the center of the silver band, I can't help but smile to myself. Some might find it strange that I still wear my wedding ring, but for me, it brings a sense of comfort and familiarity.

"He is my husband," I say simply, watching Jack's eyes widen as he quickly sets the photo down.

"You're married, sugar? Why didn't you mention this before?" he asks, caught off guard. I can't help but let out a soft laugh.

"It just didn't come up in our conversations," I reply, giving him a gentle smile. "And I'm still trying to find the right words to express my feelings about him. Our marriage has always been filled with ups and downs, but there's always been a deep love for him that I hold close to my heart. Even when my thoughts about him don't quite align with it”

Jack tilts his head, his expression reflecting the conflict of thoughts in his mind. I understand - what I've shared is indeed conflicting. Just as my own feelings for my husband. “I can tell you about him, if you’d like to learn about him Jack. As I fear I am hiding more from you than just my marriage,”

He looks interested, “What would that be sugar?” 

“Have you..learned about what vampires are? Or know of the mythology about them?” I ask and Jack nods.

“Ain’t those those bein’s who got fangs and drink blood, can’t be the sun kinda thing?” He replies, and I nod, and before I can respond, the gears in his head begin to turn. “Wait a damned minute, weren’t you drinkin’ blood when we met? Does that mean..but I have seen you in the sun.”

"I need you to remember this, Jack," I say, leaning in closer and fixing my eyes on his. "I am a vampire, but I'm not like the others. I can walk in the sunlight without any harm." Jack looked at me with disbelief and curiosity as he sat on the worn sofa, trying to process my revelation.

I continue, "The man in the photograph is not only my husband, but he is also the one who turned me into a vampire. He's been alive since the 1700s, and I was just a woman he took a liking to. I met him in Paris in 1904 when I was only twenty-one. My art captivated him and insisted I come to his estate and paint him."

Jack chuckles nervously, thinking I was spinning an elaborate tale for unknown reasons. His laughter faded as he saw the sincerity in my eyes. "You’re paintin’ a pretty picture, but there's no need for these wild stories," he said, trying to make sense of my words. “I ain’t a child at bedtime needin’ to be put to bed.”

I hold his gaze and reply, "I'm not lying, Jack. I may be a conflicted woman, but this is not a fabrication." As a slight smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, I add, "I can understand why it's hard to believe."

Confused but intrigued, Jack asks, "Why are you sharin’ this with me? I'm just a simple man from Tennessee—nothin’ special."

I pause momentarily, carefully choosing my words before responding to Jack, "I trust you, Jack. You mean a lot to me, and I want you to truly understand who I am. I believe you deserve to know me just as Armand did. The man you see in that photograph knew me. If you're interested in knowing the real me, I'm more than willing to share myself with you in that way.”

Jack thinks for a moment before giving me a slight smirk as a response. “This husband of yours..seems quite fun, sugar. Tell me about him.”

-

“My dear, now that we are wed, I must share something with you, it is only fair a woman of your beauty and your cerebral must have it as well.” Armand murmured against my ear, I can feel the strength of his hands against my waist, how he wishes to pull my wedding dress from my body so he may see me bare. “A woman as extraordinary as you..as lustful as you..deserves this more than anything..” 

“Wh-what would that be..” I whisper shakily, closing my eyes to feel his touch against my body. He has never been this tender, this sensual, or this heated. I see him in a new light, he is my husband, I am his wife, and we are joined together. “My husband…” I breathe out, the words flow easily from my mouth, like a smooth and delicate silk dress enveloping my body, comfortable. They feel so natural and familiar, as if they've always been a part of me and always will be.

I love him. I love him. 

The sensation of his elegant hands gliding across the delicate fabric of my wedding gown sends shivers down my spine. As he reaches the intricate lace detailing on the back of the gown, I can't help but feel grateful that we are alone in the privacy of our own home. The wedding guests have long gone from our home, it is only us. Only us. 

“I have not been a truthful man..” Armand's lips ghost my ear, opening the back of my dress, pressing the most tender of kisses upon my skin. “I keep a secret from the woman I love most..and she must know the most intimate of details about myself. My darling wife, the moon that kisses upon my brow, I have the dark gift. The gift that allows me to never feel mortal again, to encompass immense amounts of strength and lust for the iron-rich liquid that flows in your buxom body..and I wish to share it with you. My eternal life.” 

As he fills my brain with lust-filled whispers, the sleeves of my dress are removed from my arms. His large hands rest on my chest, squeezing my breasts, making a yearning whine escape my lips. A rush of this liquid rests in my cheeks, my body feels hot, I must remove my wedding dress. “You wish for this..?” My voice is filled with air as his actions are taking parts of my brain, and I fear I cannot function. 

I want it this way. I want his desire swimming in my veins forever. I wish to never find my words so my lips may make sounds that can only communicate it. “Have you made a vampire before? Will I be your first?” I ask, opening my eyes for a moment, gazing at him from underneath my eyelashes, needing to see the sculpted beauty of my husband. “And will I be your only?”

“Mon seul et unique pour toujours..” The breathtaking golden color of his eyes meets my own, his sculpted face and body, his beauty rivals my own. “My only forever..you will be bonded to me...I will feel your desire and your pain for eternity. Do you wish for this?” 

“Please husband…please I wish for this. Make me yours, bond yourself to me.” I beg, whines leaving my mouth as his lips attack my neck. His hands delicately cup the back of my head, caressing me and keeping me close to him. 

He is ravenous, so filled with desire as I can feel the sharpness of his fangs pierce my neck. I am a puddle within his hands as he feeds upon my blood, draining my body of life and becoming his in the process. Keeping my eyes shut, feeling every shot nerve and ounce of pain—this is what I want. I desire this. 

My dress falls from my body as he picks me up effortlessly, leaving me bare in front of him. He continues to ravish me as he carefully lays me upon our marriage bed, will we consummate our marriage now? I have wanted this, have craved this for so long. 

“My darling,” Armand whispers into my ear, “Open your eyes. There is one last step you must take.” I do as he says, but my body is heavy, and I cannot lift myself. I watch as blood drips down his chin and his chest as if it were the rubies of my love. He has removed his blouse and coat, leaving him in his pristine and beautiful trousers, his chest bare to me as I am to him. That is my blood upon his skin. Oh, how he looks so beautiful with it. 

His fangs rip at his wrist, making blood cascade from the wound. “Drink at my wrist. Then we will be as one forever..” Armand’s voice is laced with passion as I sit up, grabbing his hand and pulling his wrist closer to my lips. As the blood spills from him, it drips upon my breasts and makes me feel a rush of arousal within my body. 

Biting into his skin, he groans, and I can feel the dark gift begin to rush into my veins. All the power and desire I wish for is taking over every cell of my body. My eyes are clenched shut as I feed from him, tasting his blood. I can hear him praising me to continue until I cannot anymore. Once an overwhelming urge to gasp overtakes my body, I pull away from his wrist. Panting with exhaustion as his blood fills my body, taking root and staying. 

Gasping, I open my eyes and gaze upon my husband's magnificence. My heartbeat has ceased, and my hunger remains the only thing that remains. Armand’s watch rests upon my figure; he can see the gift taking over my body. “We are one, my darling, my eternal one. The eternal gift has blessed itself within you. Oh, the beauty you radiate!” He laughs with such love filling his voice, his hand cup my cheeks as he kisses me with such passion that I am in shock. “How do you feel, darling one?” His voice mumbles with the clashing of our lips, and I cannot respond right away, only the sounds of my whines are the answers he is given. Our bodies are filled with such lust and need, he is the only one I crave. The only one I desire in this midnight hour. 

Armand gazes at me with such intensity, his voice resonating with a deeper timbre and his brow furrowed with longing. It feels as though his desire was my own, so closely were we bonded. "Please, let me see, my darling," he implored. With a gentle touch, he traced my cheek, and I obediently revealed the fangs that had freshly emerged. "How beautiful and magnificent they are," he murmured, his admiration evident. "They suit you, my eternal one. And now, I have another gift for you."

As Armand gracefully rises from our bed, I find myself propped up on my elbows, unable to take my eyes off him as he leaves the room. His hair, with its radiant sheen and delicate curls at the ends, captivates me every time. It glows like fire in the light, adding to the allure of his chiseled physique, reminiscent of a stunning Greek statue. His beauty is striking, and at times, I can't help but be captivated by his feminine qualities, which contrast so elegantly with his undeniably masculine form. The way his powerful chest muscles contour beneath a robe never fails to bewitch me, evoking a sense of wonder that momentarily overwhelms my senses. It's as though a new consciousness takes hold of me every time I lay eyes on him. I often ponder what I must have done in this life to be blessed with a husband as exquisitely beautiful as him.

When he walks back into the room, he is gracefully balancing two elegant wine glasses in his hands. A wide, enthusiastic smile lights up his face, accentuating his soft, inviting lips. His eyes locked with mine, and a sly smile played across his lips as he tilted his head in curiosity. 'What has caught your attention so completely?' he inquired, his voice filled with intrigue. All I could manage was a mischievous smirk in response, relishing the suspense that hung in the air between us.

His perfectly sculpted form seemed as though it had been chiseled by a master artist. As I gaze at him, my words failed me, and a smile spread across his face. Setting his glasses aside, he placed a hand on his hip and slowly turned, casting a provocative glance over his shoulder. “You have a way of driving me crazy,” I murmured.

“You seem to have a poetic way of admiring my physique,” Armand chuckles softly as he takes a sip of the wine he has brought to our room.

"You resemble a figure from ancient Greek mythology, a living sculpture worthy of admiration; I am sure your makers felt the same way," I continue, sitting up and following his every move as he handed me a glass of wine. Armand's laughter lacked its usual carefree tone and seemed tinged with discomfort. "Oh, did I say something wrong?” 

"No, no, do not worry," Armand says with a nervous laugh, his eyes peeking above the rim of his wine glass. "My creators were not the most loving people... so I aspire to be everything they were not for you."

He gazes at me with a warm smile. "I'll share more about them later, not now. Let's focus on this joyous moment! You've embraced the dark gift, and I must say, you look absolutely magnificent with it."

I can't help but giggle softly. "You're quite the master of flattery, just as I am with you," I remark, and he responds with a playful wink, his expression adorned with the most mischievous smirk.

"As a woman as resplendent as yourself, it's a duty I gladly fulfill. I want you to always feel cherished and see the true extent of your own beauty. It's as if you've stepped right out of a painting. If only I possessed the artistic skill to capture your essence and immortalize your beauty on canvas!" He tells me as he leans over and kisses the back of my hand. “I am a very lucky man to have someone with such beauty inside and out,” 

-

Jack chuckled to himself as I continued recounting the events of my wedding night, causing me to pause mid-story. "What's so funny, cowboy?" I asked, to which he responded with an even wider grin.

"That husband of yours seems like quite a handful," he remarks, pausing to sip the whiskey he had just poured from the well-stocked bar cart. "Part of me is curious to meet a man as eccentric as him. God bless him," 

I can't help but roll my eyes in response. There's no denying it—Armand has always been known for his eccentric behavior. His way of expressing love may be overwhelming, but I have treasured every compliment and cherish every little love note he left around our home in Paris. Despite me running away, I find myself yearning for his presence. Even in the electric presence of Jack, Armand will always have this grasp within my heart. 

 There's a lingering hope that he will track me down. Our time in Paris was exhilarating, especially our post-killing rendezvous. I can't shake the feeling that he's the only one with the ability to locate me, not his vampire friends, but only him. But then again, how will I settle my feelings? Jack has a certain electricity and suaveness that makes him wonderful to be around. But Armand is...Armand, I suppose. And that was always enough for me.

 He will find me again, I know he will.

taglist: @morallyinept @604to647

[yomi345345345]

Thanks dawg.

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

Just a little reblog of this fun series I did last year to help with the holiday spirit❤️💚

12 Days of Christmas with Jack

a jack whiskey daniels x oc series

rated: pg

warnings: fluff, brief mentions of death, lots of kisses, slow burn, a little angst, hint at smutty times, if you squint mention of religion, a nervous cowboy 

summary: agent jack whiskey daniels of statesman agency has not been a fan of christmas for a long time. ever since the day he lost his wife and unborn baby the holiday always left him alone and cold. his coworker ryder finds this out and is determined to make him fall in love with the holiday again. follow ryder as they set up different holiday activities to bring the christmas spirit back to jack’s life. will feelings blossom? will christmas end up being jack’s favorite holiday after all? 

notes: written in the second person and more for nb!reader/oc. (this is an old series i just decided to make a post like this to put it all in one area and make it nicer)

series ao3 link coming soon

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

part 6

part 7

part 8

part 9

part 10

part 11

part 12

[ghostofaboy]

Ghost of a Boy 200 Follower Celebration

Happy Friday everyone!

This week has been great for me. Lots of smoking hot pictures of Pedro on set, I put out part 2 of my Dave/Javi P/Marcus P fic and I hit 200 followers!

It was only in January I hit 100, so this is amazing for me. Thank you to everyone to has chosen to follow me and likes the stories I write.

So... for this celebration I'm opening up my inbox for requests and questions. So feel free to drop me a message if you want a fic or to ask me anything about myself/something I've written.

Below are rules for request. 👇

I’m opening fic requests from Friday 10th to Friday 17th May. Each fic will be between 500-1000 words. Please be as clear as you can in your requests. Let me know if you have a particular character you want, any themes/kinks, dialogue you want working in. The more details you provide, the more I can write what you want.

Characters I will write for:

Agent Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels

Frankie 'Catfish’ Morales

Javier Peña

Din Djarin

Marcus Moreno

Marcus Pike

Max Lord

Pero Tovar

I primarily write with male ocs, but I’m happy to write for male reader or gender neutral. Please put in the prompt your preference. I’m sorry I don’t write female reader fics, there are plenty of amazing writers out there who already do that.

I’ll also write for the following existing ships: DinCobb (Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth), FishBen (Frankie Morales/Benny Miller) and Stavier (Steve Murphy/Javier Peña).

When it comes to kinks I’m pretty open. Feel free to check out the masterlist for my Kinktober 2023 or a quick look over other things I’ve written on my Masterlist. However, I reserve the right to refuse a request if it makes me uncomfortable or if it’s something I don’t know enough about to write.

Finally, please be patient with me. I work and only write in my spare time so I might take me a while if I get lots of request.

Requests from my 100 follower celebration: Finally and Final (Stavier), Take Your Time (DinCobb) and Something A Little New (FishBen)