Monty

In love with the internet's daddy - 25 - Self proclaimed writer - She/they - This page is 18+ for the most part - MDNI

[lonely-ey3s]

whiskey sour | follower commission

pairing: agent jack whiskey x f!reader word count: 18k warnings: angst, yearning, flashbacks, violence/fighting, guns, blood, fluff, without giving spoilers: SMUT (18+ MDNI).

a/n: this was a commission through my kofi from @pedritosgirl2000 !! here is her ask: 5k word SMUT where agent whiskey x female agent (different agency) assigned to the same mission (idk say they’re supposed to assassinate some bad guy) and forced to work together even if he pisses her off. Maybe they’ve had a run in before and know each other prior? Or maybe this is our reader's first big mission?

i'm not going to lie, this took me so much longer than i have would liked - however it's because i wrote way more than 5k (story of my life) because i fell in love with these two. so with that, i hope you all enjoy! if you'd like to request a commission, my kofi is open for 2 slots at a time, and I have one slot taken. it is also open for donations if you like my work <33

“Hey, sorry to barge in, Brandy, but the boss needs to see you in his office,” Richie said as he leaned into your office’s doorway to take a peek. He had a stack of field reports in his arms as he found you sitting at your desk. “Carol said it’s urgent…” 

“Yeah, yeah—one sec.” You muttered distracted, only paying attention to what you were reading on your computer screen—not in any rush like you should have been. 

Richie took another step into your office, curiosity pulling him closer as he noticed something familiar shining your blue light glasses.

His brow furrowed as he pressed. “Is that the Ramsey case file?” 

That grabbed your attention. You quickly glanced up, over your screen, to see him snooping. You removed your glasses and tossed them in front of you.

“Sorry, what did you say? Champagne needs me?”  You asked as your glasses rattled across your desk while you pressed the lock button on your keyboard. 

Richie straightened, realizing he had crossed a line by the way you reacted. He nodded as he pulled the stack in his arms closer to his chest. “Uhm, yes, ma’am.” 

You closed the case file next to you as you rolled your chair back. You stood as you pressed for further details—attempting to change the subject away from what you were looking into. “Did Carol say what it's about?”

He shook his head and shrugged, racking his brain for something useful to report.

He stumbled at first but then advised, “Uh, no but… I did overhear them talking earlier about something happening down south? How they were going to send you and Agent Gin to meet up with another agent down there…” 

You reached back and grabbed your suit jacket from the back of your chair before walking out of your office—putting it on as you headed down the narrow hallway, Richie trailing close behind. 

“Did they mention the name of the agent we’d meet up with?” You asked as you glanced over your shoulder for a moment before picking up the pace. 

He shook his head and shrugged. “I thought i heard them mention someone named… Tequila?” 

You glanced forward as you buttoned your jacket, turning down the main hall and sighing, “As long as it’s not a Whiskey—I’m all for an field assignment.” 

After a very vague and short debrief with Champagne, claiming ‘details need to stay at a minimum until your arrival’—you were on a plane to New Orleans, Louisiana.

The only solid piece of information you were told was that Gin would meet you in a few days time. Of course after you gathered intel and made a game plan with the agent you’d be meeting you there. 

When you asked who you were meeting with on location—who to look for, a name, anything—Champagne advised that he was only advised by headquarters that they agent would meet you at the hotel bar after you landed. 

That certainly didn’t settle the pit in your stomach you had as you got on the plane—not in the slightest. 

After a long flight, that was much longer than you expected—you landed not only a lot later than you wanted, but you got off to yet another surprise: in an already buzzing city—you were also landing two nights before Mardi Gras began.

This added a new level of complexity that you were too tired to consider.

After checking in and sending your bags up to your room, meeting your new and somewhat secret partner where there’d be alcohol didn’t seem so much like a chore.

Fuck, after the last few hours? You needed a fucking drink. 

You sat down at the bar and knocked twice on the hardwood to get the bartender's attention. 

“Can I get a whiskey sour?” You asked sweetly when he turned to look your way, giving the young gentleman a warm, soft smile. 

Just as the bartender nodded your way, you heard a southern drawl call your name from behind you. One that made your heart rate pick up and—against your wishes—gave something deep in your belly a small flutter. 

“No longer drinkin’ martinis, Agent?” The voice asked, a slight tease in his voice. 

You took a deep breath in before turning in your seat to greet him with a forced yet polite smile. “Ah, so the mission isn’t as vague as I was advised.” You scanned him up and down from where he stood before biting back, “I mean, knowing you, specific details were… purposely withheld from me, yes?” 

He grinned and put his hand over his chest. “You wound me with such… false accusations.” 

You raised your eyebrow, a small warning, and pursed your lips tighter. A look he knew all too well. All you wanted was the truth. No bullshit. 

He exhaled and bowed his head before raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. You caught me.” He said as he began stepping closer, his arms slowly coming down to his sides. 

“Should’ve known…” You shook your head and rolled your eyes—clearly annoyed. “Especially with how little Champagne was giving up.” 

Jack shrugged as he casually stood next to you at the bar. “I uh, may have told the old cowboy to hold out on some of the details, ya know?” Jack grinned a little too proudly as he moved to lean his elbow against the bar. He couldn’t help as his gaze took you in, in a way that was no longer appreciated by you—nevertheless, still made your pulse skip a beat. 

His voice dropped an octave and slowed as he murmured, “Plus, we wanted to surprise ya…”

“Of course you did.” You accused as you shook your head, swinging back around to rub your temple. You couldn’t help but think over all the ways the next few days were going to be miserable. 

Jack watched and held up his pointer finger to signal the bartender for a drink, just as he placed yours in front of you.

He took a second before his voice softened and something changed in the way he held himself. “Look, I know you’re not happy about this. Especially given our last time… working together.” 

Except it wasn’t working together. It was far more than that—deeper.

You hummed and took a sip of your drink. Instead of your voice changing for the better, yours became colder, more flat. “Ah, so now you call the last time we saw each other… just working?” 

Jack paused before he looked down at his finger, picking at the seam of the bar before he muttered, slightly falling over his words. “Well, no. I don’t—but I thought we were... God, I don’t know. I know if we call it anything more than what you wanted—” 

“Mhm, right. What I wanted...” You snapped, cutting him off. You nodded more to yourself than to what he was saying—trying to keep yourself from showing that maybe a part of you still cared for what you left behind. 

“Sorry, I just thought that…” Jack tried to recover, hearing the hurt you were trying to hide.

You quickly swallowed down the lump that had crept up with each word he had muttered—wounds from the past clawing their way to the surface. “No it’s ok. It’s ok… I’m glad—I’m glad we’re finally on the same page.” 

Jack’s gaze moved back to you and it all came flooding back.

He stood there wanting to say all the things he’d held back, the words he regretted not telling you before—the ones that kept him up most nights since.

Without knowing, his face and body language softened as he moved just a fraction closer.

But before anything further could be said or done, you stood from your stool and put a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. You downed your drink in one go. The burn you felt run down your throat made you softly cough and your eyes slightly water.

You inhaled a sharp breath before adding, adding a fake small smile. “Thank God we can skip all that meet-and-greet fuss, yeah?”

You grabbed your jacket and pushed in your stool before you began to walk away towards the lobby, saying loud enough for Jack to hear. “I’ll uh, meet you back here in the morning to… establish a game plan.”

You barely made it two steps out of the bar before you heard Jack’s voice from behind you, his voice still soft but somewhat hopeful. “Good night, Y/N…” 

You stopped, only for a few seconds. Something deep down ached that you hadn’t felt since the last time you saw him.

But then you let go of a breath you seemed to be holding in and replied, “And to you.. Agent.” 

Jack stood there, watching you walk away, and couldn’t help but smile to himself—even after that cold and closed off interaction.  

Because for him, it was good to see you. He’d missed you, even if you didn’t miss him. 

He missed the way you made him feel. How you made him feel lighter, brighter… happier. He missed the challenge you brought him. The way you pushed him to think faster, deeper, to feel more than just the surface level. You brought out the good in him. 

And yeah, being called ‘Agent’ stung—like you meant it to. But he knew that just meant you cared… even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

You still cared.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” You whispered to yourself as the elevator doors shut. Your heart had been hammering in your chest since you left the bar and that stupid fucking lump crawling back up the moment you heard him say goodnight.

“God damn it...” You inhaled a shaky breath—even as you tried to hold it all back.  

Once the bell dinged to begin your ascent, you pinched the bridge of your nose—holding onto the railing bring yourself back in.

But no matter how tightly you closed your eyes or how many deep breaths you took—all you could think of was the last night you saw him. 

You stormed into the motel room—the door slamming against the wall as you entered.  Jack was on your heels, as always, and caught the door before it could close behind you. “Whoa, hey, easy now.”  His knuckles were bruised, and his arm was bloodied from a bullet graze. The dried blood on his sleeve showed an obvious—and painful reminder of his recklessness that day.

“Baby, what—what’s wrong? I don’t understand what—”  “You could’ve gotten killed!” You cut him off, your voice rising with each word. “God, what were you thinking, Jack?” He stuttered, the words he needed failing him at how mad and scared you looked. For once, he was unsure of what to say, how to make it all better. For once, he wanted to be careful with how he responded. For once, he cared what came out of his mouth in a fight.  Instead, his silence just fueled your anger and you began throwing clothes from around the room into the duffel bag that now sat open on the bed. “I knew it. I knew getting close was a mistake.” You muttered under your breath, voice shaky.  His gaze snapped from the duffel to you, and he took a step closer. “A mistake? What we have… wait, what we are—”   “No—no. There… There is no ‘we’, Jack.” You quickly corrected—more so to bring yourself comfort with what you were about to do. “There isn’t. There can’t be.” He stood there and let the silence settle; convinced it would do its work. He wanted to believe that you didn’t mean any of it. Not when this morning was so much different. Not when that last few weeks you’d spent falling in love. No, you couldn’t mean it. He told himself that you were just scared after what happened to him. Right? He watched closely to see continue to packing up the duffel before your hands slow their movements. He waited patiently until you realized how ridiculous you sounded before he softly muttered. “And who said we can’t be something more, hm?”  You hated how that made you pause mid-motion and clench the shirt you had in your hand.  He took the opportunity and stepped once more forward. He took off his Stetson, and combed his fingers through his hair—a nervous tick he had—before setting it next to the duffel. He sat in front of you before reaching out for your hand. He gently kissed your knuckles before gently pressing further. “Don’t we deserve to be happy after all we’ve sacrificed?”  Did you deserve happiness? You wanted to believe you did—especially with all that you’ve done, both good and bad.  But, with happiness came pain… then came liability, and not far behind that came a deep sense of vulnerability that you just couldn’t afford.

Another thing happiness brought was that anyone could use it against you. Anyone could manipulate and use it to hurt you. And with this job? There wasn’t a chance that you could allow that to be a possibility. This was all you had—all you had known.

But then he sat there in front of you, looking up at you like you’d hung the moon and stars. And something inside you hesitated to believe that you couldn’t have it all.

The elevator, softly jolting as it came to your floor—snapping you out of your thoughts. You heard a soft ding from above, only to look up and see the number 12 shining above. 

The shiny golden doors opened to an older couple, arm in arm, chuckling amongst themselves.

You pushed off the railing and nodded a silent ‘good evening’ to them—before slinking past to lock yourself in your room for the rest of the night. 

The last couple of days settled into something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

You’d wake before sunrise to get coffee from whatever corner shop opened first. Then it was hours of surveillance and reading over reports together.

There was even a day when it was the two of you weaving through the crowded streets of New Orleans for hours—all while Mardi Gras celebrations grew louder and crazier by the minute.

It should've been miserable—but god damn it, it was annoyingly easy.

Not because the assignment itself was after gathering intel, but if anything, working with Jack again, being with him—it came back to you like muscle memory.

"...Two exits," you murmured beneath your breath as you watched a warehouse from the roof across the street.

Jack lowered the binoculars without looking away from the building. "West side will be cleaner to go in from."

"Mm." You hummed as you looked down, tapping information into the tablet lying in your lap. 

"They’re usin’ the front door as bait," Jack noted, putting his binoculars back up.

"You’re just seeing that?" You jabbed as you glanced over at him for a moment.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Mm, let me guess: it’s in your little daily logbook already?"

You rolled your eyes as you held up your binoculars again to peer through them. "You mean the logbook that you never seem to read?"

“Hey now, I read ‘em, just…” His grin slowly grew as he peeked over at you. "...must’ve missed that part."

You kept your gaze on the warehouse, your tone slightly sarcastic as you muttered. “Sure you did...”

He chuckled quietly beside you before looking back through his binoculars.

It wasn't until the fourth night that everything went sideways and something started to crack open between the both of you.

The lead you received was supposed to be a simple small mission:

1. Meet the informant

2. Exchange the payment

3. Leave

However, the second you stepped inside the abandoned repair garage, every instinct in your body screamed something was wrong. It was too quiet—all too easy. 

Jack must’ve felt it too as his hand brushed against the small of your back for less than a second. Something that happened purely out of instinct, as it had always been his way of giving you a silent warning. 

Nevertheless, it sent heat to your cheeks and another small flutter deep in your belly.

Both clouding your thoughts, slowing your movements—taking you out of your element.

You blinked gave him a slight nod of acknowledgment, pushing all that aside.  

He moved just a fraction in front of you before reaching behind to rest on his gun, holstered on his belt. 

“Stay behind me.” He whispered, scanning the area.

"It’s a setup." You murmured, eyes scanning everything around you, watching for the smallest movement. “You got any ideas on a way out of here?” 

Jack glanced over his shoulder towards the way you both came in, gambling on a simple retreat. “Thoughts on backtracking?” 

You followed his gaze behind you and went to reply, only for the lights to cut out.

“Shit.” You both muttered in unison, turning back to look at what was in front of you. It wasn’t to your complete surprise when you saw silhouettes of three large figures coming from the darkness—closing in from all sides.

The first swarmed you from the side before you could draw your sidearm. You ducked beneath his swing and drove your fist into his ribs. You quickly grabbed his wrist and threw him over your shoulder—knocking the air clear out of him.

The second lunged from behind you, but before you could react, Jack caught him.

Jack was known to hit hard. You heard the second his fist landed a blow to the man’s jaw—it was defining and solid. You turned your head just slightly to check and saw the moment just before his knee connected to the assailant's stomach. The man folded, grunting in pain before yelling something in another language before repositioning himself to take another swing toward Jack out of frustration.

"Behind you!" Jack barked as he ducked, grabbing the man’s arm with one hand and his shirt collar with the other, shoving him backwards towards a pile of wooden pallets. 

You never questioned him, never looked to double-check—you simply dropped to your knees just as a fist sailed through the space where your head had been a second earlier.

You glanced up to counter attack—only to see Jack's boot connect with the attacker's chest. hard enough to send him crashing into a stack of old tires.

You were already moving towards the assailant that Jack sent stumbling into a pile of pallets.

He swung at you faster than you expected—hitting hard across the cheekbone.

Despite the sting and immediate pain—you recovered faster than he could block. You landed three quick strikes—two to his jaw and one to the core—plus a final jab to his throat.

The man made a wet and high pitched noise as he grabbed his neck, breath stolen from him before he fell to his knees. You took it a step further and kicked him hard in the ribs—making him collapse against the concrete with a deafening thud and a gasping wheeze as he curled into the fetal position, struggling to breathe. 

You turned around just as the first attacker that went towards you got up and rushed for Jack— now that his back was turned and clearly distracted.

Without thinking, you grabbed a rusted wrench from the nearby workbench and hurled it as hard as you could toward your target.

It spun through the air to land squarely across the base of the man’s skull—making him cry out and stumble forward as it knocked him off balance.

“Jack!” You shouted.

Jack didn’t need anything further; he just knew when it came to you.

He immediately spun around—instantly moving to tackle the man to the ground. He pinned him down by straddling him, knees trapping his arms down—making the man yelp out in pain.

Without skipping a beat, he pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man struggling to get up from the pile of tires.

“Freeze!” He warned, glaring at the man who was clearly thinking about lunging again. His chest was heaving and fists were balled up—looking like a raging bull. 

You pulled your sidearm and pointed at the man below you on the concrete, laying dazed and bloodied before firing a stun bullet to his abdomen—jolting him with a high electric shock—before knocking him unconscious. 

Jack did the same when the man took a step forward—not taking a chance for another round. He firing a single shot before standing and shooting at the young man beneath his feet—knocking both out as well.

Silence settled over the garage before both of your heavy breathing filled the room. For several long seconds, neither of you spoke as you gathered yourselves on what just happened. 

Then Jack finally looked over to find you before asking. "You alright?"

You nodded, focused on the man lying unconscious at your feet. "...I'm fine."

Jack saw something in the small amount of light that seeped through one of the windows that made his stomach sink.

He wasted no time before he began stepping closer—gently saying your name to pull your attention towards him. 

You blinked at the sound of your name falling off his tongue—not hearing it in that way for years. The softness made you turn to face him—only to see him for his hand to reach toward your cheek. 

You instinctively caught his wrist before he could touch you, your guard going back up.

His eyes flicked between your hand and your face.

"You're bleedin’..." He tried to reason, nodding toward your cheek that had some blood running down it. 

“Shit…” Your stomach dropped slightly, not knowing you’d possibly been hurt.

You reached up to wipe it away with the back of your hand before muttering. "...I said I’m fine, Jack. I’m fine."

He sighed, his face dropping as you stepped away from what he could only assume was you feeling embarrassed.

His hand fell back down to his side—his fingers rubbed together anxiously, like he’d been robbed of an excuse to touch you, to care for you again. 

And of course you noticed. You could still read him like a book with those big brown eyes.

"You worry too much about me." You murmured quietly. 

“What, you expect me not to?” His expression hardened slightly, but his voice remained soft. "You're… my partner."

"Yeah, but I’m only your partner for this mission.” You said as you moved past him, shoulders barely grazing the others.

You walked over to the other body to begin gathering information about the group of men—immediately getting back to business. “Plus, I can handle myself."

"I know you can."

"Do you?" You pressed, glancing back at him as you crouched by the man who know laid unconscious by the tires. 

"Of course I do," he said, quieter than before, "but just because you can handle yourself doesn’t mean that I can’t have your back too. You know that you need me just as much as I need you." He paused before adding, “Especially in situations like these.” 

You huffed a chuckle as you dug into the man’s pockets. "I didn't need saving for anyone, Jack. I would have had it if—"

"I never said you did.” Jack cautiously interrupted, walking towards you before crouching on the other side of the body, his gaze settling on you. “Despite what you think, I do know you enough to understand you’re capable of handling things yourself...” 

Despite yourself, your cheeks bloomed a soft pink as you glanced up at him through your eyelashes.

You caught his gaze for a split second before quickly looking back down, your cheeks instantly deepening in color. 

Jack smiled to himself, noting the change before he softly cleared his throat and turned around to search the other body—leaving the conversation on that note.

Later that night

Jack balanced two paper bags against his hip as he nudged the hotel room door open with his shoulder.

You gripped your pistol on the table next to you, somewhat still on edge from earlier. 

Jack heard the faintest click as you cocked the hammer with your thumb. "Hey now, don’t shoot the delivery man," he grinned, trying to lighten the mood as he shut the door behind him with his foot.

Without looking up from the mess of photographs scattered in front of you, you countered. "Delivery man forgot to knock."

Jack strolled over, grin still lightly pulling on his lips as he teased. "Plus if ya shot me—you wouldn’t get the coffee you begged me to go out for…”

You put the safety back on and rolled your eyes, “For the record, I didn’t beg. I… I might’ve mentioned needin’ a pick me up—needing something to keep me awake for at least the next few hours...” You said with a soft sigh as you gently tossed a photograph onto the table, clearly frustrated by what was in front of you before you folded your arms over your chest. “But I didn’t beg.”

Jack just chuckled, only for you to look up just in time to watch him set two coffees and a pair of burgers in front of you.

God it was a beautiful sight.

The room that had smelled faintly of old carpet, cigarettes and rain drifting in from Bourbon Street—now smelled of the two best things in the world.

The aroma of the caramelized onions and strong black coffee both made your stomach growl and instantly put you at ease. 

Jack pulled one wrapped burger from the bag and slid it across the table toward you.

"No lettuce or tomato… and extra sauce for you."

You frowned slightly and looked up at him for a moment before looking down at the silver wrapper the burger was neatly wrapped in.

"...How'd you know that’s how I liked my burger?"

He blinked as he took off his hat, placing it on the end of the bed behind him."You've ordered the same order since Tennessee."

A beat passed as he took off his lightly damp jacket to neatly hang it on the back the chair, before adding. "… And you always said you hated how watery the lettuce made a burger. Plus ya hate tomatoes on anythin’, so..."

You stared at the wrapper for a second longer than you meant to. ‘He remembered. God, of course he did… he was always so good about that kind of stuff. He always made you feel seen.’

Jack seemed to realize what he'd admitted a second too late and busied himself unwrapping his own burger—sitting down and opening a case file, scanning over details to appear busy and distracted.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes after that. Both trying to ignore the shift that kept making its way of creeping up between you.

You hesitated only for a moment before you picked up the burger and unwrapped it. No lettuce. No tomatoes. And a ridiculous amount of barbecue sauce that you always insisted made it better.

As you stared at it, you hated that he remembered the small details—but you hated even more that was that a small part of you was glad he did.

"So," you said after a few minutes, deliberately changing the subject as you opened a folder that you had sitting nearby, "thoughts on our three new friends?"

Jack swallowed his bite, shrugging. "Didn't tell us much that we didn’t already know..."

"They told us enough." You murmured as you spread a few photographs you took of their belongings across the table.

But after an hour of combing through it all again and running through every single detail—all you had was three men, one warehouse, four shell companies, and two names that they gave you that meant nothing.

"Our original plan doesn't work anymore." You murmured as you tossed the file folder onto the table to stand.

You turned to look at the wall that now had photos and notes hanging with scribbles your writing to show a path of evidence. 

Jack came up behind you, his eyes scanning over the same thing. He stood close enough that you could feel the warmth rolling off him.

"You’re right. It doesn’t." His voice low and focused. 

You chewed on the side of your thumb as your eyes skimmed over the details before pointing towards it. "If what they told us was true, they said they already moved the shipment… which puts us 12 hours behind schedule."

"Looks that way," Jack murmured, his gaze slowly making its way to the back of your head, realizing how close he was standing. 

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, grumbling. "And Gin gets here tomorrow. God the timing..."

"Mhm." 

"We're supposed to brief him with a… a plan or… somewhat of plan of this damn operation!” You pointed to the wall that showed nothing close to a plan. 

Jack shrugged and exhaled a slow, controlled breath. "We’ll come up with something."

You let out an aggravated breath and shook your head. "Yeah with that? We nothing to come up with…" You murmured as you turned and sat on the edge of the table and began rubbing your temples.

Jack chewed the inside of his cheek, studying the wall for a moment before he decided you both needed a break.

He reached for the coffee you'd barely touched and nudged it toward you. "Take a break… drink some of this."

"I'm not tired." You sighed, nudging it back as you stood back up and turn again toward the wall. 

"Didn’t say you were… but you've been rubbin' your head like you do when you’re getting one of those headaches you tend to get when working late."

"I'm—that’s not… I’m thinking." You stuttered through your lie, removing your fingers from your temple.

"Well sorry to say, but you think better caffeinated." He protested, nudging it back toward you.

He waited a moment before moving to sit on the edge of the table, next to where you were standing. 

You narrowed your eyes at him for a second, infuriated how right he was—how well he still knew you.

You sighed before mumbling as you took a few sips. "Y’know, I hate how smug you get when you're right."

"I know." He smirked as he reached around for a case file he’d been combing through beforehand. 

And there it was. 

That smile. That stupid, crooked, soft, and kind smile that he seemed to only have for you.

It hadn't changed after all this time. Even after all the pain you knew you caused him—it hadn’t changed. It was still patient and safe. It was something that managed to soften the sharp edges he gave everyone else. It was just for you. 

You looked away for a moment before leaning on the table next to him. You looked over his shoulder at the file and read over a few details before setting your cup down behind you.

"Let's assume they were lying…" You began.

"Mm, they were." Jack assured as he flipped up a page, studying one of the shipping manifests. 

"Wha—about all of it?" You questioned, shocked by how quickly and confident he sounded.

"Not exactly." He began as he closed the folder and set it next to him. “I think they left out a few details to try and throw us off.” He continued as he started unbuttoning his cuffs—rolling them up his forearm. 

You caught a glance at the veins bulging on his tan skin. How big his hand looked compared to the buttons he was working at.

You felt your heart start to race and a rush of heat rush to your core.

So before he could catch you practically drooling, you glanced over your shoulder at the wall before asking, your voice cracking on the first syllable. "You believe what they said about the warehouse?"

Jack hesitated and peered up at you, noticing your cheeks blooming.

He only needed a second before calculating what brought on that reaction before he bit his lip to hold back a shit eating grin.

"I do." He replied, trying to keep his voice even.

"And the dock?" You questioned after composing yourself, turning back to face him.  

Jake pursed his lips and shrugged. "Might be real… but I’m not going to lie—somethin’ feels off about it."

You sighed and lingered on that thought before continuing. "Well then, what about the buyer?" 

Jack shook his head and let out a chuckled, nodding toward the folder next to him. "Mm, now that’s fake."

You raised your eyebrow and tilted your head, not sure how he was seeing this, and you weren’t.

You always saw through the smoke and lies. You could always picked up the pieces and put them together. Why weren’t you able to with this?

"What makes you so sure?"

"They answered too fast when we pushed them about it... like they were kids trying to lie about who broke their mom’s vintage crystal set." He said, leaning back slightly on his hands—making those damn veins pop even more—but like it was the most obvious observation. 

Not only that but you hated how cocky that made him look.

But you also couldn’t deny now that you thought about it more—he was right.

They were way too anxious and quick about that one question when they were all separately interrogated.

"Alright fine. You might be right." You muttered before taking another long sip, eyes fixated on the bed in front of you as you thought about everything more with that assumption.

"Well, I usually am." He teased as he grinned wider.

It caught you off guard, the ease and tease in his voice. You’d be lying if it didn’t take you back to how things were before.

Enough for a quiet snort, followed by a small, quick chuckle escaped—before you had time to swallow it. 

Jack looked to you immediately, and if you could’ve seen—the man somehow melted.

Because there it was. That laugh. That laugh that made his days brighter and his heart fuller years ago. That laugh that he still heard echo in his dreams.

Jack took a moment before he leaned a bit forward. "You still have that cute little snort before you laugh."

You cleared your throat and turned away as your cheeks flooded with a warmth that seemed almost like a betrayal.

“You uhm, you were saying the buyer was fake—” You started as you quickly got off the table to put distance between you. However smooth you were trying to be, in the process of getting up, you knocked a thick folder off—sending papers and photos scattered all over the floor. 

“Shit.” You muttered, immediately kneeling to pick everything up quickly.

“Here, let me help,” Jack said softly as he quickly slid off the table and down onto the floor with you. 

You sighed and began picking papers up faster. “It’s fine, Jack. I got it…”  

But when you both reached for the same photograph, and your fingers brushed—something shifted.

Not dramatically, but just enough that the room suddenly felt smaller, the air slightly thicker. The music that had been carrying through the open crack in the window—the trumpets and laughter weaving together—sounded further away.

It was a touch, nothing more—yet neither of you pulled away immediately.

It was when you felt his thumb shift the smallest fraction against the side of your hand, that you blinked and he’d realized what he was doing.

He withdrew his hand, his voice small and soft as he muttered. "...Sorry."

"It's fine." You muttered back, eyes darting down to gather the photographs before shoving them into the folder, the pile messy and spilling out.

Neither of you moved, just stayed there with cheeks warm, hearts pounding, and eyes avoidant of what just happened.

Jack racked his mind, trying to think of what to do or say. But before he could make a decision, you stood abruptly, tucking your hair shyly behind your ears.

Your voice came out small and quiet—almost shy. "I uhm, I need some air..."

Jack watched you cross the room before the door opened—the smell of rain and smoke from the shop down below wafted inside. Lightning struck before thunder boomed as the streets cheered in celebration.

But then you pulled it softly to close behind you.

Jack sat there and couldn’t help but question how to move forward—especially after that obvious electric moment after the years spent apart.

What could he say? What could he do to make it better? 

It was obvious there was a loose end between the two of you. How, after all that had been said and done—all the hurt and pain—there was still something of a chance to mend it. 

He knew that you also felt that shift—that same electric warmth in just the small touch of your fingers.

He knew if he could just make you see it—if you would just stop for a moment to give him a chance—you both could be so much happier. 

You leaned your forearms against the cool metal balcony. You watched the rain pour off of the roof in front of you and then saw the hundreds of people move beneath the glowing lights of the city below.

You listened to the music, the cheers, the soft thunder as it continued—the clapping of thousands as they continued to flood the streets in celebration.

All that listening and watching only to be distracted by the lingering feeling on the side of your hand—from where his thumb just was. 

You traced your finger over the skin, back and forth, slowly. You couldn’t help the way your mind drifted back to the last time you remember your hand in his. 

It was the morning you left. 

Jack would always hold you close from behind as you slept—his arm beneath your pillow, the other around your torso. You would always find his hand and interlock them together in your sleep.

It was something he found endearing and sweet. That whether you consciously meant to or not—he always found your hand in his when he’d wake.

You loved how every morning, he’d pull your hand to his lips and kiss your knuckles—then being the flirt he was, he’d move all the way up your arm before finally finding his way to your lips where he’d take his time settling there.

It was your little morning routine. It was habit.

But the morning you left? There was a reason it was before he woke.

Because if the routine had been honored, you would have never left. 

You hated how much your heart still ached for him. How that small touch sent your heart racing, your cheeks on fire.

How it reignited that fire that you thought you’d doused the second you walked out that door. 

But it had never left—it just dimmed until the time was just right. 

You heard the door open and close from behind you after a few minutes.

It wasn’t until you felt his warmth coming off his shoulder that you knew he was to your side. 

There were a few moments of silence as you both stood there, listening to the music below. The rain continued to pour above you, creating somewhat of a peaceful, yet soulful ambiance considering what you were in the middle of. 

Jack glanced to the crowd below and hummed to himself.

When he finally spoke, his voice came out softer than you hoped—a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “Have you ever been to something like this before?” 

You kept your gaze on your hand for a moment longer before blinking and glancing down below. “What? Something this loud?” 

Jack chuckled and waved his hand as he shrugged—his lips pursing. “Sure, you could say that.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at your lips as you thought of a memories. “Loudest party I’ve ever been to is a tie between my cousin Vinnie’s bar mitzvah or my old partner’s daughter’s quinceañera…" 

Jack leaned a bit more onto the bars but turned his head to glance at you as he smiled. “I’ve been to several quinces and can agree… they can be on the same level as Madi Gras.” 

You smiled and nodded as you watched him for a moment before looking away—back down to the crowd below. 

Jack’s gaze stayed on you and saw you were looking for a way to avoid talking about what just happened. And he wasn’t a person to make you talk about it, let alone make you feel uncomfortable.

So he gently nudged your elbow with his and sighed. “So… what’s our plan? What are we going to tell Gin when he gets here?” 

You were shocked but not surprised he avoided talking about it. He was always respectful about things like that—not wanting to push you.

Although you can’t say you weren’t a little disappointed.

So you shrugged and pushed off the rail, turning around to lean your ass against it. You crossed your arms over your chest as you pondered about all the options before suggesting, “I think we should delay our plans until we have more information. Something more solid.”

Jack stood upright as he held onto the railing next to you, rocking back and forth slowly as he looked deep in thought, eyes fixated below. “You think it’s too risky to just… wing it?” 

You took a deep breath before turning your head to look at him for a moment.

Without knowing at first, your gaze softened, and for a second, he saw flashes of something run across before you looked down and swallowed—pushing it all back down. 

A second more, you finally said. “I can’t—uhm…we can’t have what happened last time we were in a situation like this… happen again by just ‘winging it’.” 

Jack knew instantly what you were referring to. His rocking stopped, and his stance straightened before he turned on his side to face you more head-on. 

His voice changed to something remorseful yet still gentle as he assured, “Hey… I won’t let anythin’ like that ever happen again…” 

You kept your gaze away from his as tears started to well up—the emotion of that day boiling up. The thoughts and feelings of that day barreling back.

Just thinking about the moment you thought you lost him—even after all this time, it was still raw. 

You put your hands on the rail behind you and pushed off, clearing your throat gently. “Yeah, well… you can’t make those types of guarantees, Whiskey.” 

He pinched his brows together at that name—how wrong that felt, even for you.

He studied you, and after a moment, could tell just by the way you refused to look at him there was something there.

He could see that there was some part of you that regretted leaving—that never forgave yourself for walking away. He could see the pain that you still carried, the fear you still held onto. He could read you like a book—like he always had. 

His heart was pounding, and he felt dizzy—but he saw a chance to change everything.

So before he could talk himself out of it, or come up with some stupid reason to walk away—he took a gamble. 

He moved a fraction closer and placed his hand over yours before muttering. “That’s my name… and that’s certainly not what you’ve ever called me.” 

His warmth enveloped you the moment he stepped closer, and it was almost bewitching how quickly every defense you'd spent years building began to crumble.

How the familiar scent of his cologne—pine softened by bright citrus—wrapped around you, soothing your frayed nerves as it filled every corner of your senses. Fighting it felt pointless. Not when every carefully guarded thought, every ounce of resolve, every atom that made up your being—surrendered to him until there was nothing left between you but him.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, even as tears blurred his features. The moment you blinked, they spilled over, sliding silently down your cheeks. Embarrassed, your hand darted up beneath his, determined to brush them away before he could see. But his free hand was already there, cradling your cheek with a tenderness that stole the breath from your lungs.

“Jack…” you whispered.

His heart was pounding so hard he was certain you could hear it.

His thumb gently swept beneath your eye, brushing away the tear that had escaped. He lingered against your skin for just a moment longer than necessary—as if he couldn't bear to let go now that he had you this way.

He carefully and almost cautiously—closed the remaining distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours, as he searched your face for the smallest sign that he should stop, that you'd changed your mind or put your walls back up.

But you didn't—your gaze stayed locked on his. 

Encouraged by that, he slowly gathered your hand that had stayed beneath his on the rail and guided them until they rested between your chests—where he could feel your heartbeat nearly matching his own.

You watched as his eyes briefly fell to your joined hands.

You felt his thumb absentmindedly begin to trace slow, comforting arcs across your knuckles—grounding both of you in the quiet that settled between your breaths.

Even with the city outside still pulsing with music and celebration below, with the thunderstorm creating chaos above—right here, it all seemed to disappear. 

"I made a reckless mistake that day..." he murmured, his voice rough with regret. He swallowed hard before finishing, "...one that cost me everythin'."

Your brows pinched together as you searched his face, trying to understand the weight behind his words before you asked—almost afraid of the answer. "Everything?"

Jack lifted his eyes to yours, hearing the uncertainty in your voice. How you carried the disbelief that you could possibly mean that much to him. It made his chest ache. Because, God—if only you knew the way he still ached for you next to him, how his heart still raced when he saw someone who even resembled you on the street?

He yearned for a second chance—and this was it.

A tender smile found its way onto his face despite the tears threatening to blur his vision.

"You've always been my everythin'," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes danced across your soft features. "From the moment you walked into my life." He shook his head ever so slightly, his smile turning bittersweet. "That's never stopped. Not for a single day."

The words stole the air from your lungs and words from your tongue. Enough that the only thing you could do was let your forehead slowly fall against his—your eyes slipping shut as you gave the smallest nod, trying to steady the storm raging inside your chest.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You simply stood there, breathing the same air, listening to the rain fall around you—letting years of distance quietly unravel between you.

"I need you to know that..." you whispered as your other hand slid from the cold metal railing to rest over his heart, feeling it race beneath your palm. The steady rhythm only quickened your own pulse and left you feeling an overwhelming flood of emotion.

You drew in a shaky breath before continuing, "...I didn't leave that day because..." But the words got caught in your throat—your mind was racing as memories crashed over you all at once. The gunshots. The way you heard his body collapse to the ground. The motel room. The argument. The night you spent wrapped in his arms. The fear you woke with the same conclusion you walked into that motel room with. The feeling you had as you walked away from him. The painful feeling of every instinct begging you to turn back. The regret you held onto until it turned you cold and numb. 

But now he was here—close enough to touch. Close enough that it almost felt like the years between never even happened.

Jack gently shook his head, his hand slipping behind your neck to cradle it with an impossible tenderness as he drew you just a fraction closer.

"Shh..." he whispered, brushing his forehead against yours. "You don't have to explain anything to me."

"But I do." You argued, nodding your head against his. 

"You don't." He insisted as his eyes searched yours, full of nothing but patience. "I don't wanna hear any of that," he murmured. "Whatever happened... it's over now. I don't care about the years we lost. I don't care about who was right or wrong. I just—"

"No, Jack, I..." Your voice trembled as you squeezed his hand, stopping him before he could finish. 

You needed to say what you’d held back. He deserved that at the very least. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, needing him to see every ounce of truth written across your face.

"I left that day..." Your lip quivered as fresh tears blurred your vision. "...because I couldn't stand the thought of ever losing you."

Jack's breath caught and his brows pinched together, trying to process everything you were saying.

"I couldn't watch this job take you away from me." Your fingers tightened around his shirt as you pulled him slightly closer. "I… I woke up that morning and couldn't cope with the thought of you one day never coming back… of me being left alone in a world without you."

Another tear slipped free as your voice broke. "So I convinced myself that leaving first would hurt less." A broken laugh escaped you, shaking your head through the tears. "But it didn't. It hurt so much worse."

His own eyes glistened now—his thumb gently began to rub that soft spot of your jawline as he listened.

"I couldn't lose you..." you whispered, your voice breaking beneath the weight of everything you'd buried for years. "...because I love you, Jack."

The confession that you'd both waited years to hear out loud settled between you in the quiet, fragile, and undeniable moment.

All Jack could do was simply stare at you.

He couldn’t believe that every hope he'd forced himself to bury, every word he never thought he’d hear—was now right in front of him.

"You love me..." he repeated softly.

You nodded through your tears as you leaned into his gentle hold. "I never stopped."

His breath caught somewhere in his chest, his thumb stilling against your cheek. His eyes searched yours, looking for hesitation—for doubt, for regret, for anything that would tell him he'd imagined what he just heard.

He found none. 

A smile, soft and almost boyish, tugged at the corner of his mouth before he let out a shaky breath. His forehead falling against yours once more. "I’m sorry, I’m just…"

Your lips quivered into the faintest smile through your tears as you teased. “What? For once you’ve got nothing to say?” 

Jack let out a quiet, breathless chuckle. “What is this? You’ve confessed your love for me, and now you're teasing me for being speechless?"

“Absolutely.” You smiled, really smiled, for what felt like the first time in years. God, you'd missed him—missed this—missed the way he could make you feel when everything felt impossible.

Your eyes drifted to his lips before you could stop yourself.

Jack noticed as his own gaze lingered on yours, his expression softening as every ounce of his bravado melted away.

"I have a confession now," he murmured. 

“Pour your heart out, Agent.” 

His smile grew wider at the playfulness before his voice dropped slightly. "I’ve been talkin' myself out kissin’ you every damn day we’ve been here."

Your pulse skipped as you swallowed, your cheeks slowly turning a rosy shade of pink. 

"Well, that’s a shame… I seem to remember you always had terrible self-control." You purred, feeling his hand move from your neck to pinch your chin. A grin slowly formed as you knew what was coming. 

He huffed a laugh as he started to lean in, his gaze flicking back up to yours as he asked. “So does that mean you don't want me to stop?” 

You reached up and gently cupped his jaw. Your thumb brushed over the light amount of stubble there before giving his hand another small squeeze as you whispered. "I think we've spent too many years telling ourselves to stop."

You felt his heart pound faster as you closed the last inch between you, your lips barely touching as you whispered. "...so please, Jack... don’t stop."

Jack didn't waste another second as he pulled your chin up and closer before his lips were on yours, kissing you softly. It was slow and slightly nervous, like he was scared to lose you. It wasn't rushed or desperate to make up for lost time, but slow and lingering.

You melted into him almost instantly as your hand slid from his jaw to the back of his neck.

Just as he did the same, both of his hands found the small of your back, drawing you impossibly closer. Every familiar piece of him fit exactly where you remembered—as if no time had passed at all.

His lips moved against yours in slow, gentle passes, each kiss lingering just a heartbeat longer than the last before they gradually deepened.

It felt tentative at first, as though the two of you were still asking permission after all this time.

But the nerves and hesitation didn't last too long. Not when he started deepening the kiss, and you met him just as eagerly—chasing every kiss with one of your own.

Your hands eventually slipped from around his shoulders to thread through the soft curls at the back of his hair, gently tugging him closer.

A quiet, satisfied groan rumbled in the back of his throat at that feeling.

The sound sent warmth blooming through your chest, and before you knew it, his own hands had settled firmly against your waist. His fingers spread across your sides as he kept you close—making sure that what little space remained was nonexistent between your bodies.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, and then goosebumps erupted across your skin as memories of your life before rushed straight to your core with the way he held you.

You forgot how intoxicating he was.

Against every promise you'd made yourself swear over and over that first night, you found yourself leaning into him even more—deepening the kiss until your lips slowly parted against his.

He answered almost instantly, his own breath hitching before he met you halfway, kissing you with years of longing and need for more.

Eventually, your arms slid farther around his neck as he carefully guided the two of you backward until your ass met the patio railing. The cold, rain-slick metal pressed through your jeans, pulling a quiet moan from the sensation between kisses.

"There's that sweet sound..." he murmured, smirking against your lips.

His mouth drifted from yours, brushing a trail of featherlight kisses along your cheek before following the familiar line of your jaw. He lingered there, unhurried, as though reacquainting himself with every part of you he'd spent years yearning to get back to.

When his lips reached the sensitive spot just below your ear, you felt his lips smile again.

"Mm..." he murmured against your skin, his voice low and warm. "You still wear that perfume I got ya..."

The words alone were enough to make your heart stumble and your knees weak.

Your hand reached behind you to grip the slick metal railing for balance while the other disappeared into the soft curls at the back of his neck—your fingers instinctively combing through them to hold him where he was.

You meant to answer him—you really did, but all that you could manage was the smallest nod followed by a breathless sound that barely resembled a response.

After all, how could he expect you to possibly think straight? Not when his lips were on you like that. Not when his voice sounded that low, and it felt this good to be back in his arms. Not when you heard your name whispered in your ear with that familiar southern drawl.

You began to lose track of time itself as the moment stretched effortlessly between your neck and his lips—that was until a loud bang exploded somewhere below, causing you both to jolt.

Even after years of training, basic instinct took over before either of you could think.

You broke the kiss first, instinctively planting a firm hand against Jack's chest as you pushed him back just enough to create space to react if needed. Your eyes immediately scanned the surrounding area while his hand instinctively moved toward the holster at his side.

For one tense heartbeat, neither of you breathed.

But then came the cheering, the laughter, the music, and another loud crack that sounded suspiciously like a firecracker.

You both looked over the railing at the same time, hearts hammering in your chests to see the crowd had gathered in the streets below, pointing up toward you.

Several people wolf-whistled and cheered, others erupted into applause. Someone shouted something completely unintelligible to your ears but from below, was immediately followed by another chorus of cheers.

You blinked once before letting out an embarrassed laugh at what they must’ve been watching beforehand. "Oh my God..."

Jack looked down at the crowd before slowly turning back to you, his lips swollen from your kisses, his hair adorably disheveled from your fingers.

He looked completely dazed but utterly happy with that crooked grin spread across his face.

"Seems we were givin' 'em quite the show," he teased.

Heat rushed into your cheeks and all you could do was reach your cold hands up to cover your face. "I think they're enjoying it more than we may have been."

"Mm, that’s doubtful. I was enjoyin’ it very much." He smirked as he stepped closer again, moving slowly this time, giving you every opportunity to stop him if it was too public or fast.

Instead, you stayed exactly where you at and hummed before murmuring. “Me too.”

His lips brushed your temple then your cheek, before his fingers gently pinched your chin, coaxing your gaze back up toward his.

"Now, where was I?" he whispered.

Before you could think of something witty to say, he kissed you again. His lips moving softly and patiently against yours—like he had all the time in the world.

You smiled into the kiss almost immediately, melting against him as naturally as it felt to breathe.

It began with the same tenderness as before, but neither of you could ignore the pull between you for long as the kiss gradually deepened once more, every lingering touch carrying years of unspoken yearning and longing for the other.

Your hands wandered everywhere they could reach—around his neck, through his hair, against the steady rise and fall of his chest, at his waist and bicep to pull him closer—simply needing him as close to you as possible.

Jack was the same only one hand settled at your hip while the other traced gently up your back before cradling your cheek or the back of your neck again—as though he couldn't decide where he wanted to hold you most.

“I’ve missed you,” He smiled against your lips as he pulled away only for a moment to whisper. "So much, baby."

The admission stole what little composure you had left and it probably looked ridiculous from below.

You could only imagine it: the sight of two secret government agents, standing on a hotel balcony, in the middle of Mardi Gras, like teenagers stealing kisses behind the school bleachers.

But the more you thought about it, the less you couldn't have cared.

Just as Jack’s lips kissed yours again, lightning flashed across the sky—followed by a thunderous boom that rolled through the city a second later. It vibrated the city beneath your feet and startling you enough to pull away.

Jack's lips chased yours instinctively before he laughed under his breath. “Mm, wait…”

You giggled at him, your forehead resting briefly against his as you breathed. "Maybe we..."

He managed to steal one more slow, lingering kiss before you nudged your nose against his and bit your bottom lip to hold yourself back from leaning in again.

"...Maybe we should head back inside if the storm's heading this way." you murmured, sliding your hands down his chest to land at his sides.

His thumbs began tracing slow, absentminded circles against your hips while he admired you with a look you'd almost forgotten—one filled with nothing but quiet adoration.

He nudged your nose back before taking a careful step toward the hotel door, bringing you with him—careful not to let you go.

"So..." he murmured, smiling. "Does this mean we're pullin' a late night?"

You bit your lower lip, unable to hide your smile as you leaned back into him—whispering against his lips, "This means..." You kissed him once. "...I'd like you..." Another kiss, this one slower. "...to spend the night."

Jack let out a quiet groan the moment your lips met his again. "Baby," he breathed with a grin, "you don't gotta ask me twice."

Without breaking from your lips, he reached behind himself until his hand found the door knob. He twisted it open, and the two of you stumbled inside together, tangled in one another's arms and laughing softly between stolen kisses.

You were quick to reach behind and kick the door shut just as your backs bumped into the table the two of you had been working at only moments before.

The file folder that Jack had just cleaned up—filled with maps, photographs, and case notes threatened to slide toward the edge.

Jack's hand shot back on instinct, catching the nearest stack before anything could fall off the table again.

"Can’t be makin’ another mess now, can we?" he muttered with a chuckle as he felt your hands slide slowly up his chest.

You laughed against his lips as you slowed down your kiss—gently nipping his bottom lip as you hummed, “Mm-mm” 

He groaned and slipped both hands around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the edge of the table before stepping between your knees—not once did his lips leave yours. 

You continued to kiss him, your fingers messing through his hair, his hands wrapping possessively around your waist or occasionally around your thighs to pull you closer to his waist.

He began to get a little eager and passionate with his kisses. You instinctively leaned back on your hand to hold you up, matching the energy—only for it to land on a file folder and slip—sending the folder to the ground, papers and photos scattering across the floor. 

Jack pulled back just enough to mumble, glancing at the nearby floor, quietly chuckling at the mess just made. “Damn it…”

You felt him move back just slightly, like he was about to leave you to clean up the mess. You knew he knew how you were about case files being taken care of and preserved. 

It shocked him when you quickly leaned back in and tugged at his shirt, wanting his focus back on you. 

“Mm, no… leave it.” You purred, moving your hand slowly up his chest to thread your fingers back in his hair, pulling him back to your lips. “I want you right where you are…” 

He stopped his motion and nodded—that boyish grin coming back for a moment before he crashed back onto your lips.

His voice was husky and low as he cooed as kisses started to build back up. “Tell me where else you want me...” 

“Why don’t you wing it, Agent Whiskey…” You purred between kisses, “…where do you think I want you?”

Jack had a small growl escape his lips and before either of you knew it—you were back to tongues tangling and heated breathing as you devoured each other.

Jack’s hands at one point climbed slowly up your thighs and then tightly gripped them to pull your core closer to his—and that small motion was all it took for your flood gates to open. 

You moaned feeling the growing member pressing up against his jeans, feeling him begin to rock himself against you as he dragged his lips down to your neck—beginning to suck hard enough to leave love marks. 

You couldn’t help the sounds that came out of you as you panted with your eyes fluttering shut—unable to mutter a single word with how entranced you felt under his spell. 

“Mm, I missed those sweet moans...” He murmured before kissing slowly up to your earlobe—or in other words, your weakness. 

You couldn’t help the small, helpless moan when he pulled it between his lips and went to softly suck on it.

You giggled as you instantly blushed madly and your hand shot down to his shoulder to push him back. You rolled your head to look at him, cheeks bright red and pupils just as blown as his. 

“You know that’s off limits.” You warned, your voice shy.

He barely listened, as he could only watch your lips more than anything. His tongue slid between his lips before his grip on your thigh tightened, his gaze darkening as he felt your hand slowly move from his shoulder—further down his body. 

“Is there… anything else off limits tonight?” He drawled as his hands moved to your waist, already preparing for your answer. 

Your fingers danced lightly against his belt buckle as you held onto your answer for a moment longer than necessary—teasing him in any way you possibly could. 

You thoughtfully hummed as you gazed between your bodies before your finger slid beneath his waistband—making his stomach suck in just a tad and a low growl erupt from his chest. 

“Baby…” He warned, his grip tightening around your waist, holding himself back until you gave him the okay.

And boy did you know that.

You knew how respectable he was. How he always needed consent—even after being with each other for as long as you had been—he never made a move if there was any hesitation from you. 

You grinned as you leaned forward to peck his jawline before laying heavier kisses as you moved down to his neck, then to his pulse point. 

His breath became slightly faster and erratic, and now he was the one to have his eyes flutter shut as your lips and tongue made their mark on his skin. 

“Fuck…” He whined, a little needier than he would have liked to sound.

However, for you, that little sound fueled you even more as your hand slowly began undoing his buckle as you continued marking his neck. 

The moment his belt was undone, you murmured as you grinned against his skin. “You know my limits...” 

Jack groaned as he pulled back to gently nudge your jaw to the side with the bridge of his nose.

He began gently kissing your jaw and neck as he asked, his voice filled with need. “Are you sure? You don’t wanna take things slow?” 

Your breathing picked up again as you grinned to yourself. You bit your bottom lip to hold back a moan as he started to glide his tongue over your pulse point.

You felt his arm wrap around your lower back and the other start to slide beneath your ass—something he did when he was about to lift you. Your body reacted out of pure habit, and your arm moved to wrap around his shoulders to hold on.

You moved one of your hands to cup his cheek, pulling his attention and lips back towards yours. You kissed him slowly and deeply a couple of times before pulling back enough that your breath mingled with his to whisper. “Do you really think I want to take things slow?” 

He grinned, and his head shook slightly against yours, your noses barely touching before he whispered back. “Judgin’ by the way my neck is all marked up? No, ma’am, it does not…” 

You both chuckled and stayed there for another second before you leaned back in and kissed him deeply, lips lingering on each pass for a few seconds before the next.

Jack lifted you effortlessly from the table after a few slow kisses—taking you to the bed. 

He carefully laid you on your back before you both began undressing each other and yourselves between kisses.

Eventually you were both bare before each other—you laid there giggling as Jack carefully removed your jeans from your legs. 

He stood at the foot of the bed, naked and exposed—in his most vulnerable state—and couldn’t help but pause and admire the beauty that you were before him. How you had always been the most breathtaking woman in every room. How after years the years spent apart, you were still as he remembered you on that last night together. 

He gently rubbed the inside of your ankle with his thumb as his eyes slowly made their way up your body. 

“I could never bring myself to feel for anyone else the way I feel for you…” He admitted quietly, almost like he didn’t know he said it outloud. 

You moved to sit up on the backs of your elbows. Your hair fell over your shoulders and barely onto your breasts with the way you tilted your head to the side as you watched him. 

“So there were others?” You asked softly—not an ounce of judgement or hurt in your voice—more like curiosity. 

Jack blinked, finding your eyes and swallowed nervously—feeling slightly guilty for something he knew you didn’t hold him responsible for. Didn’t mean it didn’t feel wrong. If anything, it felt dirty and unfaithful—in some way disloyal to you.

“Yes.” He muttered quietly, “And, this isn’t my business to ask of you, just because—”

“Yes.” You answered before he could finish his sentence. 

His jaw tightened and his thumb stopped against your ankle for a moment before it started again. “Did you…” he paused, worried he was about to ask something he’d regret. 

You leaned further up to where you were now sitting up fully and held out your hand for him to take—extending it as a gesture of love and respect as you pressed for him to continue. “Did I, what…?” 

You saw his features and body language immediately change the second he saw your hand. A small smile creeped up the corners of his mouth and he somehow softened in a way only you could understand. 

He reached for your hand and leaned forward to kiss your knuckles before he began to crawl up the bed to meet you as you slowly laid back down the closer he got. 

He finally came to lay on his side next to you, keeping your fingers laced with his—keeping then close to his lips as he gently kissed your knuckles while he thought of the words he wanted to say. 

He started slowly, keeping this gaze on your fingers laced with his—his voice small and shy. “Did you fall in love with any of them?”

You smiled at his fixation on your hands together—so you used it to your advantage. You pulled them to your lips and kissed them, effectively pulling his attention back to your gaze. 

“I never could stomach more than a night with someone else.” Another kiss to his thumb as you chuckled to yourself. “And that was if we spent the night together. Most of the men that tried to hit on me or take me out drove me insane…” 

Jack chuckled and brushed his thumb over yours before he reached with his other hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your gaze snapped up to his and for a moment you both just took up the space you were in together—committing it to memory. 

He cupped your cheek after a few moments and caressed your cheek softly before murmuring. “I’m never letting you go again.” 

You melted into his soft hold and smiled as you whispered, taking your hand out of his and cupping his cheek on the opposite side. “Never again.” 

Jack pulled you slowly to his lips and kissed you deeply and passionately—lingering with each one for a few seconds longer than the last. 

Your hand moved to lie across his chest as he moved to lie himself between your legs. He moved his hand down the side of your body before it came between your legs and pressed the back of your thigh back slightly to give him more room. 

You gasped at the feeling of his cock sliding between your folds—the feeling sending heat straight to your cunt. You thought you were wet already? You were now going to be soaking. 

Jack grunted at the feeling and pulled away from your lips to look down—resting his forehead against yours—seeing the tip of his cock glistening from your seeping folds already.

He smirked as he dragged himself up and down your slit—coating it more before tapping it against your clit, “God baby, you’re always so wet for me…” 

Your cheeks bloomed a deep pink as soft moans escaped between breaths. “You know what you do to me…” 

Jack pressed into your entrance for only a moment before drawing back out, teasing you now that he had you like this. 

You gripped his biceps and gasped at the sudden stretch, then the absence of him. How there was an ache of how much you missed feeling him like this—and how it came rushing back. 

“Jack…” You whined along with a needy moan as one of your hands slinked between your bodies, slowly wrapping around his shaft—reintroducing yourself to the girth and sheer sweet length of him made you moan softly. 

“Please…” You whimpered as you attempted to glide him back inside you, only to get barely the tip in before he pulled himself back out. He gently wrapped his hand around your wrist and kissed your collarbone to coax your hand to release him.

“Shh, I promise to make it worth the wait…” He murmured against your skin as your hand came back to rest on his shoulder.

He took his cock back and slowly dragged himself up and down your slit, achingly slow, one final time before perching himself at your entrance.

He kissed your collarbone again up to your jaw, then your cheek, before gently nudging your nose to ask. “Are you going to be a good girl and take me all in one go?” 

“Yes.” Your breath mingled with his as you nodded, your voice filled with need.

He looked down and watched your pretty little pussy hungrily as he hesitated for just a moment before he looked back up, and his lips barely grazed yours as his eyes searched your face to tell him to stop or perhaps this wasn't real.

But when it didn't come, he leaned in—capturing your lips as he kissed you—slowly, deeply, and with a warmth that wrapped around every fractured piece of your heart.

He stole your breath away with effortless ease, only to give it back through the quiet tenderness of his touch as he slowly sank himself into your heat. 

You both moaned and pulled away from each other's lips—unable to concentrate on something as simple as kissing. 

Your mouth fell open, gasping at the way you stretched around him.

Jack felt his knees slightly give at the sensation—it was almost euphoric. Underneath your fingertips, you felt goosebumps scatter across his skin—the man becoming completely undone.

“Fuck, I missed how well you take me.” He let out a low grunt, his voice strained as he fully buried himself inside you. 

Your breath was quick and light, moans falling out as you exhaled.

“God, I forgot how thick you are. Fuck—you feel so good.” You mewled as you began moving your hips just slightly to grind against him. 

Jack could only produce a guttural growl at your movements. No more than a couple swirls and wordless groans, and his hand firmly came to grab at your hips, stopping your movements.

“Mm, baby—you gotta stop that, or I’m not gonna last much longer.” 

You bit your bottom lip, biting back a giggle before moving your hand up to thread your fingers through the back of his hair as you whined. "But it felt so good..."

His grip tightened as he grunted, his eyes closing to refocus himself before muttering. "A little too good."

You gasped another moan at the feeling of his hips drawing back. “Mm, wait, don't stop. Please, I need to feel—” 

Your words were robbed, and a tiny squeak was the only thing that escaped your throat as Jack fully withdrew—only to sink back in immediately, faster this time.

He smirked, rolling your hips a little—his tip rubbing against the deepest part of you as he muttered. “What was that, hm? You need me to move my what?” 

You let out a needy, stretched-out moan, body arching against his as you breathed. “Please…” 

“Say it.” He insisted and did it again, but this time slower, much slower.

When you didn't answer and could only moan, he reached around your thigh and pushed it back to open you up—to get deeper before he did it again.

Only this time his forehead was pressed against yours; this time his groans mingled against your breathless moans and whimpers. This time it was more deliberate in making you feel every inch.

This time it was a clear, intentional effort to tease you to the brink of begging for more. And fuck did it work. 

You mewled as your cunt tightened around him. The immediate flush of pure ecstasy coursed through your veins the moment his tip reentered your pussy. 

God could only help you as you couldn’t help the desperate, filthy noises that came from your throat with every inch he sunk back into you. 

"I need you to say it, baby," Jack whispered, his movements slowing until they came to a complete stop. 

When you didn't answer right away—only letting out a quiet, trembling breath—he hummed, pleased with how easy it still was to completely melt you like this. How you were already a mess, and he’d barely begun. 

He slowly moved his lips against your skin, down to your chin, where he lightly nipped before peppering a few lingering kisses there, each one gentler than the last—giving you a moment to recover.

"Tell me what you need," he murmured, his voice warm and impossibly patient. "Tell me how I can take care of you... how I make up for lost time..." 

You couldn't speak, let alone barely think. Your thoughts had unraveled somewhere between how he looked at you and the way he felt so deep inside you. It left you unable to form so much as a single coherent word.

All that you knew was one thing. One thing you knew he’d understand and want as much as you did: feed into the quiet ache of staying as close to each other as possible.

You went to speak but found yourself catching your bottom lip between your teeth, trying—and failing—to steady the shaky, slightly pathetic whimper that escaped you as his hips flexed enough to move a fraction inside you.

So instead of trying to get out a string of words, your hand rose to cradle his cheek. Your thumb brushed softly over his bottom lip before you gently drew him back to your lips and began kissing him deeply.

Jack answered without hesitation, melting into you as though he understood you without a word being uttered—like understanding you was the easiest thing in the world. 

The room around you and the outside storm faded as his hips began thrusting again slowly. It faded until there was nothing left but shared breaths, quiet moans, and the unhurried tenderness of simply being together like this again.

When he finally deepened the kiss, it was slow and deliberate as his tongue slid between your lips and began dancing with yours. Your hands moved slowly down to his waist and pulled him closer—as if he could get any closer than he was—especially with the tip of his cock steadily hitting your cervix with each pass of his hips. 

“Fuck, you’re doing so good for me.” He rasped, pulling back from your lips to nudge your head to the side with the tip of his nose. 

You tilted your head up and to the side as he began kissing down your body. “I think—Fuck, I’m going to cum…” You panted, fingers barely curling against his waist as you started to feel that coil tighten. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me?” He mumbled as he squeezed your thigh, lips dragging down to your sternum. 

Your chest heaved up and down as you felt an intense heat start to pool in your stomach. Your hands shot to the sheets beneath you as you whined over and over, “Mhm, don’t stop. God, please—don’t stop.” 

“You’re so fucking hot when you make those noises.” Jack cooed as his hand slowly moved from the back of your thigh to between your bodies. His thumb pressed against the bud of your clit, which was enough for a soft cry to escape from you. 

Your back arched slightly off the mattress, and your breath got caught in the back of your throat as he began slow circles on the bundle of nerves. He grinned and continued the rhythm you requested while drawing slow, aching circles, moving his lips down to your breasts. 

He began gently nipping at your nipple before he sucked it between his teeth and flicked his tongue at the bud. Between that and what he was doing to your clit, you couldn’t help but let out a loud, unrestrained cry as you pulsed around him. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly, and your thighs quivered against his body in absolute pleasure as you came.  

He hummed, satisfied at the way you completely came undone—but didn’t let up.

No, instead he pressed on your clit slightly harder and started rubbing counterclockwise. His hips also changed pace and began pumping a bit harder and faster—not allowing the wave to come down—no, he wanted it to climb higher. 

“O-Ohfuckfuck—” You cried out, voice breaking. Your hips began involuntarily grinding against him, needing sweet release. Your body felt intense shockwaves erupt with each pump of his cock against that sweet spot he continued to be hit over and over and over again. 

“Mm, that’s it. Give me more...” Jack groaned against your breast. However, instead of encouraging your movements, he turned his hand's placement from the inside of your thigh to the top of your pelvis to keep your movements still—his thumb never missing a beat on your clit.

You gasped and loudly whined from the intensity. Your voice became helpless and needy as you begged. “J-Jack, please! Please, it’s too much!” 

Just as he was about to allow that sweet crash to happen—you made the stupid mistake of trying to get away.

You planted your feet into the mattress and pushed off and back only an inch—the pleasure almost too much to bear after not having it for so long. You weren’t used to it like before. 

Jack caught you by your hip and pulled you right back where he had you. A growl escaped him as he sat up to kneel between your legs, as he continued to thrust at the same pace. “Mm, where do you think you’re goin’?” 

You looked up, your vision slightly blurred, to see his body glistening with a thin layer of sweat as he knelt there. His own chest was heaving as his own groans and grunts graced the room, coming closer and closer to his own orgasm. 

“I can’t—fuck!” You gasped sharply as his thumb released pressure just enough that it sent another shock barreling through your body. You gripped the sheets beside your head and pressed your head back, arching your chest up, as your eyes rolled back and jaw fell open. 

A broken, shaky moan came out as you pleaded. “Goddamnit, Jack, please…” 

He could see the way your stomach contracted and felt how you clenched around him with each deep stroke. He knew it was too much, but fuck, he loved making you feel this good.

"Mm, fuck you're beautiful when you're wrapped around my cock, baby." He smirked as he watched you, enjoying the show. He drank in the image of your tits perked and marked up by him. How they bounced every time his cock fucked into that pretty little pussy. 

He looked down at that next. 

He grunted as he could see how much his cock was coated in your cum. How easily it slid in and out of you, like he was made for you.

“Fuck, look at you, baby. Look how fucking beautiful this pussy is when I'm opening you up so nicely.” He moaned before his gaze flicked up to find you cupping your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples—doing anything for some release. 

He growled and moved both hands to your hips before fucking you harder and faster than before—wanting to be the one to give you the release you needed. 

“Fuckfuckfuck—” He muttered through clenched teeth, trying to keep himself from cumming himself. 

You didn’t need much more before that wave you’d been riding came crashing down—hard and fast.

Your hand shot up against the headboard while the other shot to his wrist as you cried out loudly—your body quivering in absolute and electrifying pleasure. 

“Ah, fuck baby—” Jack grunted as you pulsed around him, drawing him in deeper. 

He waited as long as he could to give you what you needed before quickly withdrawing himself—falling back onto his heels with his cock still hard in his grip, his own chest heaving and flushed. 

You whimpered at the sudden absence of him and barely was able to lift your head off the pillow. Your vision was slightly blurred, but you found him stroking himself slowly.

The sight was one of the hottest images you’d ever seen, but made you also question: why the hell did he pull out?

“Jack? You ok?” You panted, out of breath and still coming down from your high. 

He sat up on his knees and nodded toward you as his voice was low and husky as he instructed firmly. “Get on your hands and knees for me.” 

You bit your lip and somehow managed the strength to turn around on your belly before weakly pulling your knees up and under yourself, then arching your back—putting yourself just how you knew he liked. 

He continued to stroke himself as he moved up and over your legs to align himself behind you on his knees. 

He hummed, dissatisfied, when you weren’t at the exact angle he wanted. He saw you could barely hold yourself up, so he grabbed the meat of your hips and pulled you up a little more. Next, he reached up near your head and grabbed a pillow—gently sliding it underneath your stomach. 

“How does that feel now, sweetheart?” He quietly asked as he kissed your shoulder, kneading the soft flesh of your waist as he made his way back behind you. 

“Mm, much better.” You purred, smiling into the sheets as you felt him kiss your spine.

Less than a moment later, you gasped at the feeling of him sliding through your slit, but before he did anything further, you glanced at him over your shoulder.

You barely shook your ass side to side to tease him as you asked. “Do you want my arms up or down?” 

Jack grinned at your attempt, the action always obvious with you.

He tilted his head to the same side you were looking over before lightly tapping his tip at your slit as he shook his head. “I want you to stay right where I have you.”  

He bit his lip, knowing how good this was going to feel—for both of you.

“I want you to keep your eyes on me, yes?” He requested as he spit into his hand and stroked himself a few more times. 

You nodded again, too shocked to speak.

He didn't wait for words as he guided himself back into your warmth. He also didn’t take it slow like earlier, didn’t tease, didn’t play games—he just buried himself as deep as your weeping cunt would allow. 

Your brows pinched together, and your jaw fell open as your breath was completely stolen again—then another loud, sweet, needy moan escaped—sending a warmth straight to his core. 

You couldn’t do anything but grip the sheets beneath you and arch your ass up more, feeling him deeper than before. He was deep enough and at an angle that stole the breath from your lungs with each thrust. He was able to hit that sweet spot of your cervix that had always made you see stars. 

“Fuck that’s good.” He moaned, moving his hands onto the mattress beside you to hold himself up. 

“God, you’re so deep…” You mewled, feeling him continue to hit your cervix again and again—more than ever before. 

He would pull his hips back just enough to stop before the tip pulled out, before plunging himself right back in. The rhythm stole your breath—enough that when you exhaled, a choked back moan would come singing out. 

He grunted and panted as he began to build up speed before finding a steady rhythm that had you both grunting and moaning—the dirtiest sounds bouncing off the walls. 

“You’re so tight like this, baby. Always takin’ me so well…” He grunted before reaching forward and wrapping his hand around the bottom part of your jaw and part of your neck.

You moaned louder and grinned sinfully before he pulled you up to look at him as he continued thrusting into you. Your eyes rolled back as he sped up a bit—only for him to lean down and sloppily kiss you upside down. 

Fuck that’s hot.

You lost yourselves in one another—trading lingering kisses and shared breaths that turned into moans with each thrust. Your tongues eventually slipped into each other's mouths or small nips at the other's lips. 

After a few minutes, you couldn’t hold yourself up and fell back onto the sheets, crying into the mattress as you felt that coil start to tightly wind as he began thrusting a bit harder than before, chasing his own high. 

“Fuckfuckfuck…” You sobbed as you heard the sloppy, wet sounds of his hips hitting against your pussy. 

Jack was close, but he wanted to give you one more before he came. He was determined to give you at least that. 

“Can you give me one more, baby?” He cooed as he leaned down to kiss your shoulder, moaning as you arched your back and pressed your ass back against him. 

You nodded and began rocking back against him, using each other's friction to bring you both closer to release.

You held a nearby pillow close, using it to muffle your moans as you feared they were becoming too loud. 

Jack reached up to grab it, wanting to hear every little sound from you—only for the ring of your phone on the nightstand to pull his attention away. 

He stalled his hips for a brief moment to lean forward to grab it before continuing his thrusts as he looked at the contact displayed.

He grinned as he held it, his thumb hovering over the answer button. “Looks like Gin is calling for a pre-flight update!" 

You whined and shook your head rapidly into the pillow, knowing you were about to cum at any moment—especially with how deep he kept hitting. “F-Fuck no—l-let it go to voicemail…” 

“Mm, he’s going to want an update before he boards his plane.” He smirked, continuing to thrust into you at an aching pace that was starting to make your vision blur. “Here, let me answer it for you!” 

You moaned softly before you realized what he’d said.

“No no no! Wait, wait, wait, Jack—” 

Jack tutted as you pleaded, slowing his thrusts just enough to drive you crazy before his thumb hit the answer and speaker button—tossing it next to you on the pillow. 

You couldn’t help the moan that slipped out just as the phone was tossed next to you. 

“Hello? Brandy? You there?” 

You swallowed down another moan and nodded into the pillow, unable to form a single word. 

“Agent? Can you hear me?” Gin asked from the other side of the line. 

Jack grunted before he withdrew himself completely, his tip perched at his entrance before plunging himself back inside, quietly groaning before whispering. “Speak up baby, he can’t hear you...” 

You cried out into the pillow before lifting the phone to your ear, breathlessly whimpering, “Y-Yeah, I'm here. I can hear you…” 

Gin either didn’t hear or pick up on anything as he continued, clueless. “Great! Look sorry to call so late. Wasn’t sure if you’d still be awake.” 

You hummed, barely holding on to your sanity as Jack continued at a relentless pace behind you but managed to shakily respond. “Y-Yeah, I’m awake... W-We were just going through some uhm—” 

You suddenly gasped and whimpered as he hit that soft spongy spot deep within as he pulled your hips up a fraction.

You quickly covered your mouth with your free hand and shoved the speaker into the pillow to muffle it before moaning into your palm.   

Gin’s voice carried on as you continued to moan into your palm and the pillow. “Listen, I was just calling to check in. Champagne advised me there might be a bit of…tension between you and the one we got assigned with? Some fella named, Whiskey?” 

You cried into the pillow as Jack reached under your pelvis and began rubbing your clit—purposely pressing every button he could to break you. 

“N-No… things are fine…” You whimpered, clenching the phone to your ear as you stuttered. “Jack—I mean uhm—Agent W-Whiskey and I are getting along just fine.” 

Jack grinned proudly as he continued rubbing his fingers against the bud, your pussy tightening more and more. 

“Ah well, that’s great to hear!” Gin’s voice sounded pleasantly surprised. There was a pause, and then he continued. “Now, don’t get mad at me, but I read up on his profile and saw he’s the one you worked with a few years back. Is that right?” 

Jack pressed his fingers a little harder and rubbed a little faster at the end of Gin’s question, making you moan out loud. “Y-Yes! Yes, that's him!” 

“Whoa! Agent, you doin’ alright?” Gin asked, sounding slightly concerned.

You shamefully continued to whimper through your response. “Oh yeah, yeah! No, I’m f–I’m fine!” You panted, softly whimpering as you tried to think of a viable excuse for the noises you were making. 

“Brandy?” Gin pressed. 

“I’m fine just…” You gasped down a moan before you rambled off. “Just—going for a run! Clearing my head!” 

You shoved your head into the pillow as you moaned uncontrollably only to hear Gin chuckle. “Jeez, how far are you runnin’? You sound like you’re in pain…” 

“T-Trust me, I’m n-not in pain!” You whimpered into the pillow, edging closer and closer to cumming. 

“Okay…” Gin said, not completely convinced by the sounds he could barely hear. “Well, are we good to go for tomorrow? Is there anythin’ I should bring to help us out? Any equipment from Ginger’s stock pile?” 

“Uhmm—” You whimpered as you lifted your head from the pillow, trying to think of something to say to get him off the phone without sounding any more suspicious. But just as you were about to respond, Jack reached around underneath your jaw again and pulled you back up to his lips to kiss you like before. 

You both moaned and whimpered as he continued to thrust in and out of you. You could hear Gin’s voice from the phone that was now forgotten on the pillow as Jack’s tongue was nearly down your throat.

“Brandy? Hello? Ageeent? You there?” Gin said in a singsong voice like he wasn’t sure if the line dropped the call.

Jack let you go after hearing Gin ask, “Jeez, did the line drop?” 

You fell back to the pillow, drunk on him and a mess. But you felt a tightness and warmth building rapidly behind your belly button and couldn't help but slightly panic as you held the phone back up to your ear.

You whimpered before shakily stuttering. “S-Sorry Gin… I’m g-going to have to call you back when I get back—fuck... back to the hotel!” Then you hung up the phone and dropped your head into the pillow as you loudly cried out in absolute pleasure. 

Jack leaned back onto his hand to hover against your back and kissed your shoulder as he whimpered, coming close to his peak as well. “Fuck baby, that was hot.” 

You sobbed into the pillow, “That was risky—that was…” 

Jack reached back around your pelvis and began rapidly rubbing your clit at a pace that made you forget the English language all together. You cried out into the pillow as your orgasm rippled throughout your body. 

“Fuckfuckfuck! I'm cuming, I’m cuming—” You gasped as your thighs shook and your legs immediately gave out—making you melt beneath him. 

Jack wasn’t too far behind as he managed to hold up with his arm that was already between your legs. He sped up the pace as you pulsed around him with a pressure that can only be described as intoxicating.  

His hips stalled, and his knees buckled as he spilled deep inside you. A few soft guttural moans escaped him as he rested his teeth lightly against your shoulder. 

You reached around and threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him close as you softly cried, beginning to come down.

Jack began feverishly kissing your shoulder, moving your hair to the side to kiss the soft spot on the back of your neck as he groaned—coming down as well.

“I missed you… fuck, I missed you, baby.” He murmured across your skin between long kisses across your back and shoulder. 

You panted, out of breath, but couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth as you listened to his words. Your fingers combed through his hair as you hummed in response. “I fear I forgot how… I cannot use my legs for a good long while afterwards...”  

You both chuckled together before Jack tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed the inner part of your shoulder. 

“I guess it’s a good thing Gin thought you were on an intense run if you suddenly have issues with walking tomorrow...” 

You giggled and nodded, turning slightly underneath to be able to see him more. “I can only hope and pray he believed me.” 

Jack chuckled a little louder at that and slowly pulled out of you with a quiet hiss before he laid beside you. 

“Hm, we don’t have to worry. Gin ain’t the brightest bulb in the Statesmen.” He said with a boyish grin as he looked up at the ceiling, his chest still heaving. 

You hummed and turned to lay on your side, tucking your hand under your cheek as you faced him. “You don’t need to tell me that. He carries a… certain reputation around the office, especially lately.” 

He turned his head to you and smiled before turning to face you, reaching out to lightly caress your arm with his finger tips. “Why do you think I requested to work with you first then have him show up to wrap things up?”  

You gasped and lightly shoved his chest, acting offended. “So the truth comes out, huh? This was all your doing!” 

Jack chuckled but then something softer settled between you as his fingers trailed up your arm to your cheek. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek and moving in closer—leaning in to press his forehead to yours. 

“Yeah… but, I don’t regret it—not for one second. Now that I have you, I’m never lettin’ you go.” He quietly promised. 

You put your hand on his and closed your eyes as you leaned into him. “Neither am I…” 

Jack took in the sight that you were in front of him and couldn't find any words other than, “You know, I've loved you since our second mission together?” 

You opened your eyes to that, slightly shocked, but couldn’t help the warmth and smile that gave you—the memories it brought. 

“Really? What did it for you back then? That horrible posh accent I had to do for a week or that ridiculous puffy dress I had to wear to that banquet?” You questioned, softly giggling under your breath. 

Jack smiled and shrugged as he also reminisced. “I will say that dress was one to remember… and not in a good way."

You both chuckled and shook your head, remembering that night.

But then he hummed and smirked. "But that accent you had? Baby… you know I felt about it.” 

You bit your bottom lip and ran your fingers through his hair, combing back the mess you’d made. “Yes, yes. You were the only one that fancied it.” You teased in that same ridiculous accent. 

Jack's nose brushed yours as a low groan escaped his chest before he pulled you in by your waist.

He leaned in and kissed you slowly, lingering against your lips before he pulled back to murmur against your lips, “There’s just... somethin' about it that makes you sound so innocent. Makes me want to—” 

“Mm, I’m well aware of what the accent makes you do.” You purred in the same accent. You felt him pull your leg over his waist, and before you knew it—you were straddling his hips. 

He barely lifted his head off the mattress to continue to kiss you through the smooth maneuver of it—his hand staying steady on your cheek.

You felt his already hardened cock sit nicely between your weeping folds before his hand on your thigh reached around and aligned himself back at your entrance. 

You let out a soft moan as his hand moved down your body to land on your hip before he fed you down to sit on him. 

You pressed against his chest to push him to lie down, softly nipping at his bottom lip before quietly whimpering as you fully seated yourself and stayed there. 

“If we’re going to do another round, we need to make it a fast one. Remember, I need to call Gin back.” You breathlessly moaned in your normal voice as you circled your hips—rubbing his tip against your cervix. 

Jack grunted as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Mm, you want fast, baby?” He drawled as he couldn’t help but watch your hips swirl. “Say all that again... with the accent.” 

You planted both of your hands on his thighs behind you and puffed out your chest to make your tits perk in a way that always drove him mad. You started rolling your hips, grinding up and down on his cock at an achingly slow pace as you repeated what you said, moaning sweetly in that accent he requested. 

Jack’s jaw tightly clenched and his fingers gripped the meat of your waist as he moaned—his eyes rolling back in pleasure. “F-Fuck me that’s good…” 

You let your head fall back, breathlessly moaning as you continued rolling your hips. “Please…” 

Jack growled at your plea and sat up with you in his lap, wrapping his arm around your lower back to keep you right where he wanted you. He then began quickly thrusting up into you—using his other arm to hold himself up from behind. 

Your nondominant arm moved quickly, wrapped around his shoulders but gripping tightly onto his bicep to hold yourself steady. Your other hand, tangled in his hair as you cried out broken moans, begging. “Fuckfuckfuck—don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!” 

“Yeah? That feel good, baby?” Jack growled and then began moaning as he completely ruined you.

He held you tightly against him; his face was buried in your tits as he took turns sucking on each of your nipples. With each thrust of his cock as it pounded up into you—you let out this desperate whimper that made his body tense, and his mind completely mush as his climax barreled closer to release. 

You weren’t too far behind either.

It took no more than a minute or two before you clenched around him and sobbed into his hair as you came—legs shaking, breath caught in the back of your throat, intense heat pulsing in your core, heart pounding in your ears—type of orgasm. 

Jack nipped at the soft flesh of your breasts as you reached your peak, murmuring against your skin. “That’s it baby... that’s a good girl…” 

You whimpered and moaned, barely kissing his damp hair down to his temple, then to his cheek—pulling his lips up to your own.

Once you had access, you kissed him slowly and deeply—moaning quietly between each breath as you felt his hip become more erratic and messy. 

"Cum for me, baby..." You purred in the accent between a kiss.

Jack grunted at that and pushed off the mattress. He brought his hand to thread through the back of your hair as he kissed you back, grunting and moaning louder, the higher he climbed.

He shivered, and his lips stalled against yours—his hips bucking up one last time—before spilling again inside you with a deep groan. 

You both stayed there for a moment, completely frozen by pleasure. Your lips brushed against each other, and hot breath mingled as your sticky bodies stayed close with each rise and fall of your chests. 

It wasn’t until his hips remembered to relax that you quietly moaned—feeling him fall out of you. The sudden loss of him made you whine as you stole another deep and slow kiss from him. 

He closed his eyes as he held you against his lips and hummed, tasting the salty sweetness of your upper lip before slowly lying back down—pulling you with him. 

You followed as he fell, continuing to press lazy, slow kisses against his lips.

His arm loosened around your waist and his fingers lightly traced up your back and arms before lacing your hand with his as he pulled away. He kissed your knuckles as you moved to lay down next to him—putting your head on his chest. 

You hummed and smiled as you watched the tenderness he gave you before you kissed his chest a few times. 

“You still gonna give Gin a call back?” He murmured against your knuckles. 

You chuckled and nodded as you reached for your phone next to his head, sliding it open to pull up your contact list. 

“I think as long as I speak normally, I’ve got a good few minutes before you wind yourself back up again.” You teased, scrolling to find Gin’s contact to dial. 

Jack chuckled and let go of your hand the second you clicked the dial button—pulling your gaze up to his by gently pinching your chin. 

His voice was husky and heavy as he warned, the phone ringing in your hand. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes before I start makin’ my way down south to clean up my mess, m’kay?”  

You swallowed and felt your cheeks immediately turn red before he pecked your lips once. He then sat up from the bed and walked to the bathroom—leaving you there, speechless and short circuiting with that response.

It wasn't until Gin's voice crackled through the receiver that you finally snapped back to reality.

You quickly cleared your throat and answered, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips as you secretly hoped Jack would come back far sooner than he'd promised.

As reckless as it was, you couldn't deny the thrill that came with the risk.

main masterlist | my KoFi

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[pedritosgirl2000]

Just watched the new spiderman movie. I’m gonna need EVERY punisher fanfic known to man

[skiploustat]

HERO

Summary:

You meet a man who claims to be a prince from another world, after a love life full of disappointments and failed connections. As his impossible story begins to prove disturbingly real, you find yourself drawn to him in ways you didn’t expect.

Author's Note: After watching Master of the Universe (2026) and seeing Nicholas Galitzine at his best as Adam, I decided to write a chapter of a fanfic or a one-shot. It depends on whether anyone likes it. This chapter, like others, contains spoilers for the movie's plot. However, there will be changes in several parts as well. The characters don't belong to me.

Dear readers, I'm back! Please leave comments and interact with this chapter if you like it. I'll post the next chapter soon

SIX

SEVEN

The forest had a way of making every direction feel like the wrong one. The glowing trees, the soft mist, and the strange silver light slipping between the roots had all started to blur together after a while, until even Adam looked less certain than he had at the beginning.

The robot had been moving beside you in perfect, unsettling silence, and Teela had gone ahead with Duncan somewhere farther through the woods, but the longer you walked, the more it began to feel as though the forest was quietly folding itself around you, keeping everyone just out of reach.

Adam glanced over his shoulder again, then frowned when he realized the path behind you looked nothing like the one you had just crossed.

“We definitely should have gone left,” he muttered.

“You said that about the last three turns,” you replied.

“I was hoping one of them would eventually be right.”

You huffed a laugh despite yourself, though it faded quickly when the brush ahead of you shifted with a sudden, heavy rustle. The robot’s head turned at once.

“There is a large life form nearby,” it announced.

“Thank you,” you said under your breath. “That is somehow not as comforting as you seem to think it is.”

Adam had already moved in front of you, sword in hand, posture sharpening into immediate alertness. “Stay behind me.”

You almost rolled your eyes at how quickly he defaulted into protector mode, but the sound of something huge moving through the trees made the joke die before it could form.

Then the dragon came out of the forest.

It was so sudden that for a second you could only stare.

Its body was long and powerful, its wings held partly open as if it had been disturbed out of a deep fear rather than an attack. Golden scales caught the forest light and threw it back in ripples, beautiful enough to stop your breath for a moment even as the creature’s eyes fixed on Adam with raw panic.

Not anger. Fear. Adam didn’t get the chance to say anything before the dragon lunged.

“Adam!” you shouted.

He barely had time to turn before the dragon slammed into him, knocking him hard to the ground. The impact sent the sword skidding away into the moss, and Adam let out a harsh grunt as the creature reared over him, wings spreading wide enough to make the air rush around all of you.

For one tense, awful moment, it looked like the dragon was about to finish the attack.

Adam lifted one arm, trying to shield himself, then looked up at the beast with stunned disbelief. “I really think it misunderstands me.”

“That is not the important part right now!”

The robot took one careful step to your side. “It appears to be afraid.”

You looked at the dragon again, and the realization struck harder this time. Its body was tense, not cruel. Its breathing was rapid. Its claws dug into the ground, but its head kept darting forward and back as if it had startled itself into a corner.

It was not hunting.

It was frightened.

Adam pushed himself up on one elbow, wincing. “It still attacked me.”

“Yes,” you said, still staring at the dragon. “Because you startled it.”

“That seems unfair.”

You ignored him.

The dragon’s golden scales shimmered softly as it shifted its weight, its head lowering just a little. Its eyes stayed locked on yours now, and there was something in them that made your chest tighten, something raw and afraid and much too familiar.

You took one slow step forward.

Adam’s voice sharpened immediately. “Y/N, don’t.”

“It’s scared,” you said softly.

He looked up at you from the ground, clearly unconvinced. “It knocked me into the dirt.”

“That does not mean it’s malicious.”

The dragon gave a low, uncertain sound, almost a whine, and that was enough to make your resolve settle. You kept your hands visible as you stepped closer, one careful movement at a time, until you were standing only a few feet from the beast.

The dragon’s wings twitched.

You lowered your voice. “It’s all right.”

The creature did not move.

“You’re not in trouble,” you said gently. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

The dragon’s head tilted, and for a second you thought it might bolt. Instead, it took one slow step closer.

Adam, still on the ground behind it, stared at you as if you had just done something impossible. “You are actually calming it down.”

You did not answer. You were too focused on the dragon, on the way its body seemed to be slowly unclenching as your voice stayed steady. It took another step forward, then lowered its head just enough for you to reach it.

You hesitated only a second before lifting a hand and touching the side of its face.

The scales were warm beneath your fingers.

Beautiful.

Smooth in one place, ridged in another, glittering gold against the dim forest light.

The dragon shuddered once, but it was not in fear this time. It leaned into your hand.

Your breath caught.

“Oh,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else. “There you are.”

The dragon made a low, quiet sound and closed its eyes for a moment under your touch.

Behind it, Adam went completely still.

He pushed himself up slowly, brushing moss from his shoulder as he stared at the two of you with open disbelief. “I am going to need you to explain how you just did that.”

You glanced at him briefly. “I didn’t do anything.”

Adam made a short, incredulous sound. “You touched a dragon and it relaxed.”

“It was already relaxing.”

“That is not what it looked like.”

The robot tilted its head. “Observation suggests the Earth woman established trust.”

Adam turned toward it. “That is not helpful.”

“It was not meant to be.”

You laughed quietly, still stroking the dragon’s cheek. The beast gave another calm rumble, then lifted its head and looked past you, toward the deeper forest. It turned once, as if checking whether you understood, then began to move away.

You frowned, lowering your hand. “Where is it going?”

The dragon looked back at you.

Then it nudged its head in the direction it wanted you to follow.

Adam had finally managed to get back to his feet, though he was still brushing dirt off himself with a very offended expression. “I think,” he said slowly, “that the dragon wants us to come with it.”

You stared at the creature, then at Adam, then at the robot.

“It’s leading us?”

The dragon gave a soft huff, as if the question was beneath it, then started walking again.

The robot’s voice came immediately. “This outcome is statistically preferable to being lost indefinitely.”

Adam bent to retrieve the sword from the ground and gave you a long look over the hilt. “Please tell me you are seeing this.”

“I am seeing it.”

“And?”

You looked back at the dragon’s golden back as it moved between the trees, its scales catching the forest glow like a living ribbon of fire.

“And,” you said, “apparently I made a friend.”

Adam looked at you for a long second, then smiled in that small, warm way he had when he was trying not to say something too obvious.

“I noticed.”

The dragon led the four of you through the forest with surprising certainty. It slipped between the glowing trunks, over roots and through narrow paths that no one else would have noticed, and the deeper you went, the more convinced you became that it had been waiting for someone to follow it.

Eventually the trees opened into a clearing lit by the orange flicker of a campfire.

Teela looked up first.

Then Duncan.

Both of them were sitting close to the fire, surrounded by the salvaged remains of Teela’s supplies, and the relief on their faces when they saw the rest of you was immediate and unmistakable. Teela stood at once, one hand already moving to her spear before she recognized the dragon.

“What in Eternia is that?”

Duncan squinted through the firelight. “If it bites me, I’m blaming the prince.”

Adam lifted a hand slightly, still looking stunned that the dragon had not only calmed down but apparently volunteered to escort everyone home. “I think it found us.”

Teela’s gaze moved from the dragon to you.

Then back to the dragon.

Then to you again.

“You calmed it,” she said, sounding half impressed and half suspicious.

“I did not exactly plan it.”

The dragon lowered its head beside you, almost protective now, and Teela’s expression changed into something more thoughtful. Her eyes flicked to Adam, then the robot, then back to the dragon as if she were piecing together a puzzle she had not expected to receive.

“Well,” she said at last, “that is one way to find our way back.”

The robot took up position beside the fire with unnerving neatness. “This is significantly better than our previous level of disorientation.”

Duncan grunted as he passed around the salvaged rations. “About time somebody in this group had useful instincts.”

Teela rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched as she handed you one of the food packets from the ship. “We still have enough for tonight.”

You accepted it, then looked down at the dragon as it settled near the fire with a low, satisfied sound, as if it had decided the group was now its responsibility.

Adam sat down beside you a little later, still glancing at the dragon with open amazement. “You really just made friends with a giant golden dragon.”

You tore open the food packet and looked at him. “Are you jealous?”

He actually looked offended by the question. “No.”

“Liar.”

Adam leaned back on one hand, watching you with that familiar half-smile that always seemed to imply he found you much more entertaining than he should. “I am simply impressed.”

The dragon rumbled softly beside you.

Teela snorted into her drink. “It likes her more than it likes the rest of us.”

“That is because I was polite,” you said.

Adam looked at you, then at the dragon, then back again. “I was polite.”

The dragon gave a low sound that somehow managed to feel deeply judgmental.

You laughed, and the sound made the firelight seem warmer. For the first time since the forest swallowed you, the night no longer felt like being lost. It felt like being found.

After the long, strange comfort of the shared meal, the fire crackled lower and softer against the dark. The dragon had settled a short distance away, its golden body curled around the edge of the clearing like a living wall of warmth, while the rest of you slowly drifted into the kind of silence that only comes after exhaustion has already worn everyone down.

Teela insisted on first watch for a while, Duncan muttered something about only accepting one wilderness crisis per evening, and the robot sat with its back strangely straight beside the fire as though it had decided sleep was a negotiable concept. Eventually, though, the night won.

One by one, everyone gave in to it.

The fire from the dragon cast a warm amber glow over the clearing, but the forest beyond still carried a chill that seeped in under your clothes the longer you stayed still. You had only just settled onto the ground with your cloak wrapped around you when Adam noticed.

He looked over at you from where he had been sitting close to the fire, his expression softening immediately. “You’re cold.”

You blinked at him. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Adam was already moving closer. He sat down beside you first, then gently guided you back against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His arm came around your middle, firm and steady, and his body gave off enough warmth that you actually sighed before you could stop yourself.

Adam looked amused by that.

“I knew it,” he murmured.

“Knew what?”

“That you were cold.”

You tilted your head back just enough to look at him. “I was not going to complain.”

“You were absolutely going to complain.”

“I was going to endure it quietly.”

“That sounds miserable.”

“Sometimes I’m very brave.”

Adam gave a quiet laugh and pulled you closer, settling more comfortably behind you so that your back rested against his chest and his hand stayed lightly at your waist. After a beat, you shifted in your spot and let yourself relax into him fully. The truth was that he was warm in a way that made it difficult to stay stubborn for very long, and after everything that had happened, the simple comfort of being held felt almost unfairly good.

For a while, neither of you said anything.

The dragon’s breathing was slow and low in the distance. The fire crackled softly. The robot had apparently powered itself down in the most unsettlingly upright position possible, and even Duncan had finally gone still.

You were not sure when sleep took you. Only that it did. When you woke, the first thing you felt was movement.

Not your own.

Adam was still behind you, one arm wrapped around you, and for one brief second your sleepy mind forgot where you were and decided this was a completely normal way to begin the morning. Then something brighter and stranger flickered through the air nearby, and the dreamlike comfort shattered instantly.

A glowing shape materialized in front of the fire.

You bolted upright so fast that Adam had to catch you before you tumbled out of his arms.

“Whoa,” he murmured, suddenly alert.

The shape sharpened into a message, a shimmering magical projection that hovered in the air with a voice like cold steel wrapped in silk.

Adam’s posture changed at once. So did Teela’s, who was already awake and on her feet by the time the message fully formed.

“Prince Adam,” Skeletor’s voice purred from the magic, echoing through the clearing with obvious satisfaction. “I hope your little camping trip has been restful.”

The dragon lifted its head, growling low in its throat.

The projection continued, unbothered.

“I will make this simple. Come to my fortress. Bring the Sword of Power, and surrender yourself. Do that, and perhaps I will be merciful enough to spare the people of Eternia, as well as your precious parents.”

The message flickered.

Skeletor’s laughter followed, thin and cruel.

“Refuse, and I will remind you exactly what happens to those who defy me.”

The light vanished. The clearing fell into a silence so sharp it almost hurt.

Adam stared at the empty air where the message had been, every line in his body drawn tight with fury.

Teela turned immediately toward him. “It is a trap.”

Adam did not look away from the place the projection had vanished. “I know.”

“No,” you said, already standing as well, your heart pounding harder than you wanted to admit. “You don’t just know, Adam. You know and you’re still considering it.”

His eyes shifted toward you.

You wished, suddenly and intensely, that he looked anywhere else.

Because he still looked impossibly good even now, and the fact that he could receive a threat from Skeletor and still somehow look like that was almost insulting.

“He has my parents,” Adam said, his voice low.

“And that is exactly why this is a trap,” you shot back. “He knows you’ll go.”

Duncan, who had apparently been listening very carefully, sat up with a pained groan and rubbed at his face. “She’s right.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do,” you said.

He turned fully toward you now, his expression hardening not in anger, but in something worse. Something wounded and stubborn and helpless all at once.

“You think I can ignore him?”

“I think you can stop walking straight into whatever he wants.”

Adam opened his mouth, then shut it again, and for a moment the two of you just stared at each other across the fire.

Teela spoke up before the silence could turn into something more intense. "He is not wrong," she said, though the words sounded reluctant. "We should go, even if it's a trap."

Adam looked at her, clearly relieved to hear someone else acknowledge the truth of it.

Teela straightened immediately, her jaw tightening as she looked from the dark line of the forest toward the direction of Skeletor’s fortress, as if she could already feel the danger waiting for them there.

“We’re done talking,” she said firmly. “We go now.”

You let out a sharp breath and crossed your arms, still not moving from where you stood beside the fire. “You can’t be serious. You’re really about to march straight into Skeletor’s stronghold without a real plan?”

Adam turned toward you at once, and the look on his face made it clear he did not like hearing that any more than you liked saying it.

“What exactly do you think the alternative is?” he asked.

You lifted your chin. “Anything that does not involve running headfirst into the evil lair of the man who wants you dead.”

Adam's expression tightened. "Do you really think I should just sit back?"

“I think,” you said, trying very hard to keep your voice steady, “that if you walk into this like it’s some kind of noble rescue mission, he’ll be waiting for you with exactly the trap you’re afraid of.”

Adam’s eyes sharpened, and when he answered, his voice was quieter but no less firm.

“Maybe you don’t understand because where you’re from people don’t get the chance to talk things out when they’re standing on opposite sides.”

The words hit harder than you wanted them to. Your throat tightened immediately, and the worst part was that he looked like he meant it as an explanation, not an insult.

But it still sounded like one. It sounded like the second time in less than a day that someone had reminded you, however gently, that Eternia was not your world.

Your face went hot. You looked away before he could see how much that had stung.

"Right," you said, forcing a laugh that sounded more bitter than amused. "Absolutely. Don't let me stop you from rushing off to face Skeletor. He's probably already planning to kill you the second you show up. Go for it. Run toward that disaster. I don't care what happens to you. This isn't my place anyway."

The forest seemed to go still around you. Adam’s face changed instantly. Not angry. Not defensive. Hurt. That was somehow worse.

“Y/N—”

But Duncan cut in before Adam could say anything else, his voice dry and rough from where he was sitting near the fire, as if even now he could not resist making the moment more difficult than it already was.

“You two aren’t even dating and you’re already arguing like a married couple.”

Every head turned toward him. Even the robot.

Duncan looked vaguely satisfied with himself, as if he had merely stated a fact instead of dropping a grenade into the middle of the conversation.

Teela pinched the bridge of her nose. Adam stared at Duncan in disbelief.

You, still angry and embarrassed and now even more aware of every single person watching you, turned on him with your best possible glare.

"Never," you said, each word clipped and deliberate. "A person who doesn't understand Eternia well enough to be useful, or to avoid throwing themselves into a suicidal mission, is not good enough to get involved with the great and powerful protector of Eternia."

The effect of the words was immediate. The air around the fire seemed to tighten. Adam went absolutely still.

His eyes locked on you, and for one awful second you could tell you had hit something raw enough that it landed like a blow.

The hurt in his face shifted into something colder. Not with you. Against the words. Against the implication.

Against whatever part of him had decided to let your opinion matter more than it should.

You wished, immediately and fiercely, that you had said it differently. But the damage was already there.

Duncan blinked once, then made a low, unimpressed sound. “Well. That was rude.”

"Father," Teela snapped. She sounded thoroughly done with all of you. "For the last time, please stop talking."

She turned on her heel and looked at Adam with the expression of someone determined to drag everyone back onto the same disastrous path whether they liked it or not.

“This argument is not going to get anyone anywhere,” she said sharply. “We are going to the fortress, and we are going now.”

The robot’s head tilted. “Probability of survival decreases with prolonged emotional conflict.”

“Thank you,” Teela muttered. “That was helpful in the worst possible way.”

Adam dragged his hand over his face, then looked back at you. Whatever he had been about to say died on his lips.

And underneath it, he still looked like the man who had once sat across from you in a restaurant and talked about another world like it was home. That made everything sting all over again.

Teela stepped toward the edge of the clearing. “Duncan, if you can walk, move.”

“I can walk,” Duncan replied, already bracing himself with the robot’s help.

The robot gave a tiny mechanical noise. “I did not agree to this level of responsibility.”

“You volunteered to accompany me,” Teela reminded it.

“I regret my earlier generosity.”

“Too late.”

Adam’s gaze flicked once more to you, and then he gave a short exhale, as if he had finally accepted that forcing this any further would only make it worse.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “We go.”

Teela nodded once and started gathering the group with the same no-nonsense energy she had used since the moment she found him. Duncan moved first, muttering about bad decisions and worse timing. The robot followed with unnerving precision. Adam lingered only long enough to close his hand around the Sword of Power.

Your eyes meet his. It's a moment when your feet tingle and your stomach churns, as if it's the bone-chilling cold of a winter morning. Adam clearly regrets what was said, just as much as you do.

The dragon at your side shifted, its golden scales catching the firelight as it watched everyone prepare to leave.

Adam took one last step toward you, slow and careful.

“You know I didn’t mean—”

“Go,” you said before he could finish.

He stopped.

Your voice sounded too flat even to you.

You tried again, and this time it came out quieter. “You’re already late enough. Don’t make Skeletor wait.”

Adam went still for a beat longer than necessary. Then he nodded once.

It was the smallest possible response, but it still felt like the end of something that had never quite been allowed to begin.

Teela was already moving toward the dark edge of the forest. Duncan and the robot followed. Adam remained the last one to go, his shoulders set, the Sword of Power shining faintly in his grip as he turned away from the fire.

He did not look back again.

And that, more than the argument itself, made the clearing feel suddenly too large.

You stood where you were until the others disappeared between the glowing trees, the sound of their movement fading into the forest until only the fire and the dragon remained.

The dragon nudged your shoulder gently.

You looked down at it, still furious, still embarrassed, and suddenly much more aware of the quiet they had left behind.

“Great,” you muttered, sinking down near the fire again with a frustrated huff. “Now it’s just you and me.”

The dragon lowered its head and let out a soft rumble, almost as if it was listening.

You gave it a tired look. “Don’t judge me. I know I was harsh.”

The dragon blinked slowly.

You stared at it for a second and then let out a breath through your nose. “He has no idea how impossible this place is for me.”

The dragon’s golden eyes stayed on you.

That almost made you feel better.

Almost.

You reached out and touched one of its warm scales, then let your hand rest there as the last of your anger began to cool into something heavier and more uncertain.

“You know what the worst part is?” you murmured. “I didn’t even mean to make him sound like that mattered less to me.”

The dragon gave another low sound, and you leaned back on your hands, watching the place where the others had vanished into the forest.

For a while, the fire crackled softly. The world stayed quiet. Then the dragon’s head lifted.

You noticed the change a second too late. A shadow moved behind you. Before you could turn, a cool voice sliced through the darkness.

“Aw,” it said, with unmistakable satisfaction. “Left behind already?”

You spun around.

A woman stood a few steps away in the shadows, pale and dangerous and smiling like she had been waiting to arrive at exactly the worst possible moment. Her eyes were fixed on you with obvious interest, and the way she held herself made it clear she was no lost traveler.

Evil-Lyn.

Your pulse jumped instantly. The dragon rose at your side, the warmth of its body shifting into alert tension.

Evil-Lyn’s smile widened. “Skeletor sends his regards.”

You took a step back. “I don’t think I’m interested.”

“No?” she said lightly. “That’s unfortunate.”

The dragon growled.

Evil-Lyn barely glanced at it. Her eyes stayed on you, amused and cold at once. “I was told you might be important. Not from Eternia. Not part of this world. And yet somehow you’ve become very inconvenient.”

You felt the hair on the back of your neck rise.

She tilted her head. “So I think you’ll be coming with me.”

You moved to run.

She was faster.

A flash of dark magic struck the ground at your feet, forcing you to stumble back as a ring of shadow and force rose around you. The dragon lunged, but Evil-Lyn lifted one hand and sent it staggering away with a sharp pulse of energy.

Then her other hand closed around your wrist.

Cold.

Sudden.

Unbreakable.

You gasped and tried to pull free, but the magic tightened immediately and yanked you off balance.

“Let go of me!”

Evil-Lyn’s smile never changed. “I’m afraid that is not how this works.”

The dragon roared and surged forward again, but another burst of dark energy blasted it aside, leaving you helpless as Evil-Lyn dragged you back toward the shadows.

Your heart slammed in your chest.

And as the forest began to blur around you, the last thing you saw was the fire shrinking behind you, the dragon fighting to reach you, and the empty space where Adam should have been.

Then the darkness closed in.

[pedritosgirl2000]

I need more He-Man x reader stories…

[softctrll]

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

[pedritosgirl2000]

| Use this picrew maker, and tag your moots

@lonely-ey3s thanks for tagging me!

Don’t have many mutuals on here but I appreciate everyone who comes by my blog. Hopefully inspiration strikes and I get back to doing what I love more consistently.

[skiploustat]

HERO

Summary:

You meet a man who claims to be a prince from another world, after a love life full of disappointments and failed connections. As his impossible story begins to prove disturbingly real, you find yourself drawn to him in ways you didn’t expect.

Author's Note: After watching Master of the Universe (2026) and seeing Nicholas Galitzine at his best as Adam, I decided to write a chapter of a fanfic or a one-shot. It depends on whether anyone likes it. This chapter, like others, contains spoilers for the movie's plot. However, there will be changes in several parts as well. The characters don't belong to me.

ONE

The moment you spotted your ex-boyfriend walking through the restaurant doors, your entire evening went to hell.

You had been hoping, against all logic, that you might get through dinner without seeing him, without hearing his voice, and without having to relive every miserable argument that had followed the breakup. That hope lasted exactly until the second he stepped inside and began scanning the room with that familiar, irritating confidence of his, as if he still expected the world to make space for him.

Your stomach dropped. No. Absolutely not.

You turned your face slightly, pretending to focus on your drink while your mind scrambled for anything that might keep him from noticing you. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to hide, no convenient distraction, and no polite excuse large enough to make the problem disappear. Then your gaze landed on a blond man sitting alone near the window. There was an empty chair across from him, a half-finished drink on the table, and enough distance between him and your ex that, if you played this right, you might be able to buy yourself a few minutes of peace.

It was a terrible idea. So naturally, you did it anyway.

You crossed the room and sat down across from the stranger before you could change your mind. He looked up immediately, and when his hazel eyes met yours, the expression on his face was one of mild surprise rather than irritation, as though he was simply trying to understand why an unfamiliar woman had chosen his table as if it belonged to her.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone careful but not unkind.

You swallowed, already feeling ridiculous, and lowered your voice as you glanced over your shoulder. Your ex was still inside the restaurant, still moving in your direction, and the sight of him made your pulse climb.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, “I know this is strange, but my name is Y/N, and my ex-boyfriend just walked in.”

The blond man’s brows lifted slightly at that, and he looked over your shoulder once before returning his attention to you. “All right,” he said slowly, as though he was trying to decide whether he had just been recruited into a crime. “That does sound like a problem.”

“It is,” you admitted, keeping your voice low because panic was starting to creep into it. “A very specific and very unfortunate problem. I really do not want him to see me sitting here alone, because if he does, he will come over, and I will have to pretend I am in the mood to have a civil conversation with someone who ruined my week.”

Something in the man’s expression shifted then, not into pity, exactly, but into understanding. He glanced toward the entrance again, and this time he seemed to notice the shape of the situation more clearly: your rigid posture, the way your shoulders had tightened, the way your eyes kept darting toward the door.

Before he could answer, a voice cut across the table.

“There you are.”

You went rigid all over again.

Your ex stopped beside the table with a smile that was too satisfied to be accidental, his gaze moving from you to the blond man and then back again as if he had just stumbled onto something amusing. “I thought you said you weren’t one of those women who go out with a different man every day.”

Heat rushed to your face so fast it made your ears burn, and you opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The words died before they had a chance to form.

Across from you, the blond man set his glass down with unhurried precision, then looked up at your ex with a calm that made the whole exchange feel even more lopsided than it already was. “That is an incredibly strange thing to say to someone you don’t know,” he said, his voice even and controlled.

Your ex gave a dry laugh, clearly annoyed that the blond stranger had responded at all. “And who exactly are you?”

The blond man didn’t look at you right away, but you could tell he had already understood enough. His gaze flicked to your face, caught the tension there, then returned to your ex with a coolness that was somehow much more effective than anger would have been.

He leaned back slightly in his chair and extended a hand with complete composure. “Adam,” he said. “My name is Adam.”

Your ex took the offered hand, though he did it reluctantly, as if he resented the basic courtesy. “Right. Adam.”

Adam nodded once, as though the introduction had been made under the most normal of circumstances, and then looked back at your ex with a mild, almost thoughtful expression. “Can I ask why you’re speaking to her like that?”

Your ex’s jaw tightened. “I’m speaking to her just fine.”

Adam’s gaze flicked briefly to you again, and the look he gave you was quick but clear enough to make it obvious he had already decided you were uncomfortable and that was all the reason he needed. “No,” he said, still calm, “you’re really not.”

You felt your throat tighten with a strange combination of embarrassment and relief. Adam wasn’t raising his voice, and he wasn’t trying to pick a fight, but the steadiness of his tone made him sound even more impossible to ignore.

Your ex looked between the two of you, clearly irritated by the fact that he was no longer in control of the conversation. “You don’t even know her.”

Adam’s expression barely changed. “That’s true.”

The answer seemed to surprise your ex more than it surprised you, because it gave him a brief, smug pause. Then Adam continued, his voice still level and unhurried. “But I know enough to see that she doesn't want you around her.”

The silence that followed was brief, but very satisfying.

Your ex frowned. “You really think you’re in a position to judge anything here?”

Adam tilted his head slightly, considering him. “I think I’m in a position to notice when someone makes another person uncomfortable and then acts surprised when the reaction is negative.”

You had to look down at the table to hide the small, involuntary smile that threatened to show on your face. Unfortunately, your ex noticed the movement, and it only seemed to make him more annoyed.

“So what,” he said, glancing between you and Adam with open suspicion, “you’re her boyfriend now?”

The question hung in the air for half a beat.

Adam answered it without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Your head snapped up so quickly it almost hurt.

Adam didn’t even look at you. He kept his eyes on your ex, his expression steady, his tone completely convincing, as though he had not just invented a relationship out of thin air in front of a stranger. You had known him for less than two minutes, and somehow he sounded more certain about the two of you than your ex had ever sounded about anything important in his life.

Your ex stared at him. Then at you. Then back at him again.

You stayed very still, because anything else would have ruined it, and because Adam had clearly decided to take control of the situation whether you were ready for it or not.

Adam rested one arm along the back of your chair and continued speaking with the same easy confidence, as though this were a perfectly ordinary conversation. “If it helps,” he said, “she spent most of her introduction explaining that she would rather be anywhere else than in your company.”

Your ex let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re both insane.”

Adam’s mouth curved faintly. “That’s possible.”

The ex exhaled sharply through his nose, already looking like he regretted approaching the table in the first place. “This is ridiculous.”

“Probably,” Adam said, and this time there was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. “Although, to be fair, if I had my sword with me, this conversation would be over already.”

Your ex blinked. “Your sword?”

Adam nodded as if the subject were self-explanatory. “Yes.”

“You carry a sword?”

“Not usually to dinner.”

Your ex looked at him like he could not decide whether he was being mocked. “Why would you even have a sword?”

Adam’s expression remained perfectly serious. “Because it isn’t a simple sword.”

That made your ex pause.

Adam, apparently seeing no reason to stop, went on in the same calm, matter-of-fact tone. “It can transport me home.”

Your ex stared at him for a long moment, clearly waiting for the punchline that never came. When it did not arrive, he looked at you instead, as though expecting you to save him from whatever this was.

You did not.

Adam noticed your expression, then turned back to your ex and added, almost conversationally, “It opens a portal.”

The silence that followed was so complete it felt almost theatrical.

Your ex looked horrified now, not angry, but deeply unsettled, as if he had finally realized he was no longer dealing with a normal conversation and had somehow wandered into the wrong reality entirely. He glanced from Adam to you and back again, then shook his head in visible disbelief.

“You know what?” he said at last. “Forget it. I’m done.”

Adam gave him a small, polite nod. “Probably for the best.”

Your ex stared at both of you one final time, muttered something under his breath, and then walked away, leaving the table behind as quickly as dignity would allow.

Only after he disappeared into the crowd did you finally breathe again.

You leaned back in your chair and let out a long, stunned exhale. “Oh my God.”

Adam looked at you for a moment before the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “That went better than I expected.”

You turned slowly toward him. “You told him about a portal sword.”

“I did.”

“You said that like it was completely normal.”

“It is normal,” Adam replied, entirely sincere.

That made you laugh, though the sound came out breathier than you intended. “No, it absolutely is not.”

Adam’s eyes, hazel and amused, stayed on you as he leaned back in his chair. “You asked me to help.”

“I asked you to pretend I wasn’t alone.”

“And now you aren’t.”

You stared at him for a second, and then, despite the absurdity of the entire evening, you laughed again.

Adam smiled back, still looking far too pleased with himself for a man who had just rescued a stranger by pretending to be her boyfriend and casually insisting that his sword could open portals.

For a moment after your ex had disappeared into the crowd, neither of you said anything.

The restaurant seemed to settle back into itself around you, as though the strange little scene at your table had been nothing more than a brief inconvenience. A server passed by with a tray of drinks, cutlery clinked softly from somewhere near the bar, and the low hum of conversation slowly filled the space your ex had left behind.

You let out a breath and leaned back in your chair, still half-amused, half-exhausted by the entire exchange.

“Well,” you said, giving your head a small shake, “that was easily one of the most ridiculous things that has ever happened to me.”

Across from you, Adam looked entirely too pleased with himself for someone who had just claimed to be your boyfriend in order to scare off a man he had never met before.

“I thought it went rather well,” he replied, his tone calm and almost thoughtful, as if the whole thing had been a perfectly ordinary social interaction.

That made you laugh quietly under your breath. “Of course you did.”

His mouth curved, but before either of you could say anything else, your gaze drifted toward the empty chair across from him and the half-finished drink still sitting on the table. The realization came back to you all at once.

He had been here with someone.

You straightened slightly, the earlier tension giving way to a more awkward kind of curiosity.

“I should probably let you get back to your dinner,” you said, gesturing toward the empty seat. “You already did more than enough for a complete stranger.”

Adam followed your glance to the vacant chair, then looked back at you with a faintly puzzled expression.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

You frowned. “Why not? You were clearly here with someone.”

A small, almost embarrassed look crossed his face, subtle enough that you might have missed it if you had not been watching him so closely.

“I was,” he admitted.

That alone was enough to make you narrow your eyes a little.

“And?”

Adam exhaled through his nose, as though deciding how much of the truth was worth sharing.

“And she left.”

You blinked. “She left?”

He nodded once. “About twenty minutes ago.”

You stared at him for a second before the meaning of that sank in. “Wait. So you’ve been sitting here alone this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“And she just… left?”

Adam looked down at the table with the faintest hint of resignation. “We started talking about my sword.”

That earned an immediate laugh from you. “You told your date about the sword?”

“I told her the truth.”

You gave him a look that was half disbelief, half amusement. “Adam.”

“What?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“You can’t just casually tell people you have a sword that opens portals.”

He blinked once. “Why not?”

“Because most people would think you’re insane.”

His expression shifted, just slightly. “That is a very dramatic reaction to something that is true.”

You stared at him for a beat, then let out a small helpless laugh. “Okay, that was not the answer I was expecting.”

“It’s still the correct one.”

That should have sounded ridiculous. Instead, because Adam said it with complete sincerity, it almost made sense in the strangest possible way.

You rested your elbow on the table and studied him a little more carefully now, not because you thought he was lying, but because you were starting to suspect he wasn’t. The confidence in his voice had not changed once since you had met him, and there was something deeply unnerving about how natural he seemed when talking about impossible things.

“Fine,” you said slowly, “then explain it to me.”

Adam tilted his head. “Explain what?”

“Everything.”

He looked at you for a moment, and then his expression softened into something warmer, something less guarded. It was subtle, but it made his whole face feel different, more open somehow, as if he had decided you were worth taking seriously.

"Well," he said, folding his hands on the table, "I suppose it depends on where you want me to start."

"Start with the beginning," you replied instantly, because that was the part that had resonated with you the most.

"I'm starting with Eternia."

You shook your head. "Eternia?"

A faint smile touched his mouth, not mocking, just surprised in a quiet, almost amused way.

"Eternia is my home. It's where I was born, where I grew up, and where I'm supposed to be protecting people."

His tone changed as he spoke, becoming steadier and more personal. The playful absurdity that had initially characterized the conversation softened into something more sincere.

"My father is King Randor, and my mother is Queen Marlena. I grew up in the Royal Palace, spent most of my childhood getting into trouble, and learned fairly early that my life was a lot more complicated than it first appeared."

You watched him closely, trying to decide whether he was spinning a wild story or simply telling you a truth so unusual it sounded impossible.

The worst part was that he looked completely unbothered by the whole thing.

"So," you said, "you're telling me you're from another world."

Adam nodded. "Yes."

"And that your sword opens a portal between here and there."

"Yes."

"And you're not joking."

"No."

You blinked at him for a second, then looked down at the phone in his hand as if that would make the situation less strange.

"Can I see it?"

That seemed to surprise him, though only briefly. Then, he reached for his phone and turned the screen toward you.

The photo showed the sword he had been talking about, and even from the small image on the screen, it looked unlike anything you had ever seen before. It was enormous, sparkling, and ancient in a way that made it seem less like a weapon and more like something from a storybook.

You looked at the picture for a long moment, thinking, and then you looked back at him.

"Okay," you said, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. "Oh, that's definitely a sword."

Adam's mouth twitched. "Oh, it is."

"And a very dramatic one."

"I know, I've heard that before."

You looked at the image one more time, then let out a little frown. "Where was this taken?"

"Internet," he answered, as though that should have settled everything.

You gave him a pointed look. "I totally get it. It's what you've been saying over and over. I mean, where is it?"

He paused, as if the distinction hadn't occurred to him.

"Actually, I don't have a clue."

You let out a little laugh, exhaling through your nose. "Oh, honey, that's just not going to help your case at all."

Adam looked a little sheepish for the first time since you'd met him, and it made him all the more lovable. "Right. Sorry."

Then he put his phone down, folded his arms on the table, and started over in a calmer voice, as though realizing he needed to start from the beginning if he wanted you to follow.

"Eternia is a completely different world from Earth," Adam explained, a warm smile appearing as he spoke about it. His voice revealed an unmistakable fondness, as though merely mentioning his home was enough to bring back a hundred memories at once. "There are kingdoms, ancient cities, forests that stretch for miles, and more magic than most people on Earth would probably believe."

He paused briefly, glancing down at the table, then continued.

"When I was younger, before I understood the true meaning of the sword or its role in my life, I imagined myself as a hero who could protect everyone. I was Prince Adam, but I would've preferred something more dramatic."

You immediately narrowed your eyes. "Dramatic?"

A slightly embarrassed smile crossed his face. "He-Man."

The silence that followed lasted exactly two seconds. Then you laughed.

Adam groaned and leaned back in his chair.

"I knew that was going to happen."

"He-Man?" you repeated, amused. "That's the name?"

"In my defense, I was young."

"How young?"

"Young enough to think it sounded impressive."

"And now?"

Adam's expression revealed a clear sense of contemplation.

"I still think it sounds impressive."

That only made you laugh harder.

"Adam."

"What?"

"That is the least subtle hero name I've ever heard."

"The competition wasn't particularly strong."

For a moment, you both remained silent, each lost in your own thoughts.

Then you let out a slow breath, staring at him with a mix of disbelief and fascination that you were no longer even trying to hide.

"You really expected your date to believe that?"

Adam looked a little taken aback by the implication, but he quickly recovered. "I wasn't trying to make myself difficult to believe."

You laughed softly at that, because somehow that was exactly the problem. He said the impossible things with such honest certainty that it was almost easier to doubt the world than to doubt him.

He noticed your expression and smiled a little, more relaxed now that the conversation had moved away from your ex and into something strangely personal.

"I think," he said, leaning back again, "she simply found it hard to keep listening after I mentioned the portal."

You shook your head, a smile spreading across your face. "I can see why."

Adam's gaze remained fixed on you, unblinking and unwavering, as if he found your disbelief to be all the more amusing.

"And yet," he said, "you are still here."

"To be honest, I’m still here because, insane as this whole thing is, you’re more attractive and a lot more entertaining than my last relationship,” you admitted, letting your gaze linger on him for a moment before you added, with a tired little shrug, “and, frankly, I’m starving.”

Adam’s expression changed almost at once, the amusement in his face softening into something warmer as he lifted a hand to call the waiter over. He did it with the same easy confidence he seemed to bring to everything else, as though inviting you to stay was the most natural thing in the world.

When the waiter approached, Adam glanced briefly in your direction. “What would you like to eat?”

You gave him a look that was equal parts amused and relieved. “Are you always this quick to take charge?”

“Only when someone looks like they need food and a break from their ex-boyfriend.”

That earned him a smile you did not bother hiding.

You placed your order, Adam added his own, and once the waiter had taken the menus away and disappeared toward the kitchen, the two of you were left with the strange, increasingly comfortable quiet that had settled between you. The restaurant still buzzed around you, but it no longer felt like the center of the evening. Not when Adam was sitting across from you looking so impossibly calm, as if the entire thing had turned into something he had willingly stepped into rather than stumbled into by accident.

He folded his hands loosely on the table and studied you with a faint smile. “All right,” he said. “I propose a deal. I tell you more about Eternia, you tell me more about yourself, and we consider this an actual date.”

You blinked, then laughed softly. “You make that sound very official.”

“I’m trying to be serious.”

“Then you’re doing a terrible job.”

Adam’s mouth curved. “That is unfortunately possible.”

You tilted your head, suddenly much more interested in the subject than you had been a few minutes ago. “Fine. I have questions. A lot of them, actually. Is your sword like Thor’s hammer? If I were worthy, could I pick it up and get transported to Eternia? And who else lives there besides your parents?”

The way your eyes lit up as you asked each question made something in Adam’s expression shift into unmistakable delight. For the first time since you met him, he looked less like a man carefully managing a bizarre conversation and more like someone genuinely happy to talk about home.

He gave a small, amused laugh and leaned back in his chair. “No, not exactly like Thor’s hammer, although that does sound like a very dramatic comparison.” Then his expression turned thoughtful. “The sword carries the Power of Grayskull. It brought me here when I was young, but I don’t think it would take you to Eternia just because you were worthy. And, if I’m honest, I’m now very curious about who Thor is and why he appears to be part of your thinking.”

You gave him a flat look. “I am going to pretend I did not hear that question.”

Adam looked distinctly pleased with himself. “That’s usually how people react when I ask something they can’t easily explain.”

“Adam.”

He smiled, entirely unbothered. “What?”

You shook your head, but you were smiling now too, unable to help it. “Just keep talking before I change my mind about whether you’re charming or completely impossible.”

“Fair,” he said, and this time his voice had gone softer, more personal. “You asked who else lives in Eternia besides my parents. There are a great many people there, but a few of them mattered a great deal to me when I was younger.”

He paused there, as if deciding where to begin, and when he continued, his voice had taken on that warm, fond quality people used when speaking about the parts of life that had shaped them.

“Duncan was one of the first,” he said. “He trained me when I was a child. He was the captain of the Royal Guard, and he had a way of making even the most impossible lessons feel manageable, though I’m not sure he would agree with that description. Teela was another. She was my best friend growing up and, frankly, far better at just about everything than I was. Swordsmanship, strategy, sparring, getting out of trouble before anyone could catch us.”

You laughed quietly at that, and Adam’s smile widened a little as he watched you react.

“And then there was Cringer,” he added.

You immediately leaned forward. “Cringer?”

“The green tiger,” Adam said, with a patience that suggested he had already decided your reaction was inevitable. “My pet.”

That was enough to make you laugh properly, and the sound seemed to please him more than anything else he had said so far.

“A green tiger,” you repeated. “Of course you had a green tiger.”

“Yes,” Adam said, perfectly serious again. “He was very loyal.”

“I’m trying so hard not to picture this as the strangest possible childhood.”

“It was occasionally strange,” he admitted.

“Occasionally?”

He smiled, and for a moment the look on his face was so gentle it made your chest feel strangely light. “All right, often strange.”

You were still smiling when the waiter returned with your food. The interruption should have broken the mood, but instead it only made the evening feel more real, more settled. Plates were set down, drinks refreshed, and the two of you shifted naturally into the rhythm of a meal that had begun as a rescue and was turning into something else entirely.

At first you talked over the food, trading small comments and reactions as you ate. Adam proved, much to your amusement, to be surprisingly attentive: he noticed when you liked something, asked before taking the last bite of anything, and looked genuinely pleased every time you laughed at one of his stories. In return, you found yourself asking more and more about Eternia, about the palace, about the people he had mentioned, about what it had been like to grow up in a world that sounded at once impossible and deeply real when he described it.

At some point, without either of you formally agreeing to it, the conversation stopped feeling like an interrogation and started feeling like a shared secret.

Adam told you about the palace halls he had run through as a child, about training sessions that had ended in bruises and complaints, about Teela’s relentless competitiveness, and about Duncan’s habit of pretending he was annoyed even when he was clearly amused. You told him about your ex, this time with much less tension and much more honesty, and Adam listened with a seriousness that made it easy to keep talking.

By the time your plates were nearly empty and the restaurant had shifted into the softer quiet of late evening, you realized you had been smiling for far longer than you had been miserable.

Adam noticed it too.

He usually did.

And when his hazel eyes met yours across the table, there was something unmistakably bright in them now, something pleased and almost tender, as though he had come to the same conclusion you had: that the night had started as a disaster and somehow ended with the two of you laughing over dinner like this had been the plan all along.

The time the evening had wound down, Adam had insisted on driving you home.

You had tried to argue that you were perfectly capable of getting there on your own, but he had only given you that infuriatingly calm look of his and said he would feel better if you let him take you. After the kind of night you had both ended up having, it had been difficult to come up with a convincing reason to refuse.

Now you were sitting in the passenger seat of his car, watching the lights of the city blur past the window while the soft hum of the engine filled the silence between you. The drive had settled into something quieter and more intimate than the restaurant had ever felt, the sort of silence that did not ask to be filled immediately.

Adam had one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting loosely near the gear shift, his posture relaxed in a way that somehow made him look even more composed than he had at dinner. Every now and then, he glanced toward you for a moment before looking back at the road, as if making sure you were still there and still all right.

Then, after a while, he broke the silence.

“So,” he said, his tone light but curious, “was that the worst date you’ve ever had?”

You leaned your head back against the seat and let out a slow breath while you thought about it. The answer came to you almost immediately.

“No,” you said at last. “Not even close.”

Adam’s brows lifted slightly, and when he glanced at you this time, there was a hint of surprise in his expression. “Not close?”

You shook your head. “No. It was strange, sure, but not the worst. Just maybe the most confusing.”

That earned you a small smile from him. “Confusing is better than terrible, I suppose.”

“In some cases,” you murmured, turning your head toward the window again. The city lights reflected faintly in the glass, making the night look softer than it actually was. “It is a little bit insane, though.”

Adam waited, giving you the space to finish your thought without interrupting.

You inhaled slowly, then let the words out before you had time to think better of them.

“I mean, if you’re a lunatic who made all of this up, then this is probably the most creative lie anyone has ever told me. But if it’s real, like it seems to be, then it means that someday you’re going to find that sword and go back home, and I’m not going to see you again.” You laughed faintly, though there was something gentler underneath it now. “And that seems… sad.”

The car went quiet for a moment after that.

Not awkwardly.

Just carefully.

Adam’s expression softened in a way you had not seen from him all evening, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter than before.

“That would be sad.”

You turned to look at him.

He kept his eyes on the road, but there was no tension in him, no distance. Just honesty.

“I’m not going to pretend I know exactly what will happen,” he said after a beat. “I do know that the sword exists, and I do know that I’ll have to go back one day if it brings me the chance to. But that doesn’t make tonight less real.”

The words landed with a strange kind of warmth.

You felt your chest tighten a little, though not in a bad way.

Adam glanced toward you again, and this time the corners of his mouth lifted with the faintest trace of amusement.

“Besides,” he added, “you’re making it sound as though I’m already gone.”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, it would be inconvenient if you disappeared into another world after pretending to be my boyfriend, telling me about portal swords, and then making me laugh for most of the night.”

He smiled at that, the expression easy and sincere. “That does sound inconvenient.”

“Very.”

“Unfortunate, really.”

You looked at him for a second, then shook your head with a smile that you did not bother hiding.

“You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told.”

The road curved gently ahead, and for a while the two of you let the quiet settle again. It felt different now, softer somehow, less like a pause and more like a choice. You found yourself watching him in the reflection of the window more than you meant to, noticing the way the dashboard light caught in his hazel eyes, the way his face looked more open now than it had in the restaurant, as if the drive had given him permission to stop performing confidence and simply be himself.

He noticed, of course.

Adam always seemed to notice.

“What?” he asked, glancing at you with an amused smile already forming.

You blinked. “Nothing.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a lie.”

“It’s not a lie.”

“Then what is it?”

You hesitated, then shrugged a little, feeling the warmth rise in your face.

“I was just thinking that you are either the strangest man I have ever met or one of the most impressive.”

Adam looked genuinely entertained by that. “That is not a small range.”

“It is the range you have earned.”

He laughed quietly at that, the sound low and warm in the dim car. Then, after a beat, he asked, “And which one do you think I am?”

You pretended to consider it seriously, though the answer was already there.

“Both.”

Adam’s smile widened, and for a moment the car seemed a little too small for the way the atmosphere between you had shifted. It was still playful, still easy, but there was something else threaded underneath it now, something tender enough to make the night feel like it was carrying you somewhere important even if the destination was only your front door.

When he finally pulled up outside your house, neither of you moved right away.

The engine idled softly.

Streetlights cast a pale glow across the windshield.

Adam kept one hand on the wheel, but his gaze had shifted to you fully now, and there was an expression on his face that looked almost thoughtful, as if he were trying to decide whether to say something and had not quite made up his mind.

You reached for the door handle, then stopped and looked back at him.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

His expression softened again.

“For the ride?” he asked.

“For tonight,” you replied, and the words were more honest than you had intended them to be.

Adam held your gaze for a moment before nodding once, slowly. “You’re welcome, Y/N.”

Hearing your name like that, said so carefully, made something in your stomach flutter in a way you did not want to think too hard about.

You gave him a small smile. “Good night, Adam.”

For a second, it looked as though he might say something else, something that would keep you there longer than you should have been. Instead, he only smiled back, soft and warm and far too charming for your own good.

“Good night,” he said. “And for what it’s worth, I am glad you sat at my table.”

That was somehow the most dangerous thing he could have said all evening.

You looked at him for one last second, then got out of the car before you could embarrass yourself further.

But even as you walked toward your front door, you could still feel the shape of his smile in the dark behind you.

The next morning felt strangely normal, almost offensively so.

You woke up, got dressed, went through the motions of your usual routine, and headed to work as though you had not spent the previous evening having dinner with a man who claimed to be from another world. By lunchtime, you had started to wonder whether the whole thing had been some elaborate fever dream brought on by exhaustion, bad luck, and the lingering aftermath of your disastrous love life.

And yet, every time you thought about the conversation, Adam still felt real.

The way his expression softened whenever he mentioned Eternia.

The warmth in his voice when he talked about Duncan and Teela.

The complete, unshaken sincerity with which he had spoken about things that any other person would have laughed off as nonsense.

You found yourself smiling more than once throughout the day, and by the afternoon your coworkers probably assumed you were texting someone. In a way, they would not have been entirely wrong.

You opened your conversation with Adam three separate times, stared at the screen each time, and then locked your phone again before you could actually send anything. The message sitting unsent in the chat was painfully simple.

"Did you find the sword yet?"

You stared at it for a long moment before closing the app.

No.

Absolutely not.

You were not going to be the first one to send a message after a first date, even if that date had technically begun as an emergency rescue operation from your ex-boyfriend.

That was the excuse you gave yourself as you walked home later that evening, still half arguing with your own indecision when everything abruptly changed.

You stopped so suddenly that the people behind you almost collided with you, and for a second your mind refused to process what your eyes were seeing.

A comic book and collectibles store stood on the corner ahead of you, its front windows crowded with posters, action figures, and displays from different franchises. A pair of delivery workers were carrying a large, unusual-looking installation through the entrance, maneuvering it carefully between the doorframe and the display shelves inside.

Except it was not an installation.

It was a sword. Your heart slammed hard against your ribs.

No. There was no way.

And yet the blade was enormous, far larger than anything practical, its surface catching the light in a way that made your skin prickle with recognition. You had seen it before. Not in a museum, not in a movie, not in some fantasy exhibit that might have explained it away, but in the photograph Adam had shown you the night before.

The same sword. The same impossible design. Even from across the street, it looked exactly right.

The delivery workers shifted it carefully past the entrance, beside a towering fantasy character display labeled TORAK, and disappeared inside with it.

You did not think. Your hand was already moving for your phone before your brain had fully caught up.

Adam answered before the second ring finished.

“Well,” he said, amusement already in his voice, “I see I didn’t scare you away.”

Despite the way your pulse was racing, you smiled. “Adam.”

Something in your tone must have changed, because the humor in his voice disappeared instantly.

“Y/N?”

You kept your eyes on the storefront. The sword had vanished deeper into the shop, and the knot in your stomach tightened as though your body had realized what your mind was only now accepting.

“I need you to come here,” you said quickly.

There was a brief pause. “What happened?”

“Your sword is in a comic store.”

Silence.

Not disbelief, exactly. Just silence.

You hurried across the street, still staring at the windows as if the sword might suddenly reappear if you looked hard enough.

“I’m serious,” you said. “I just saw it. They were carrying it inside. It’s exactly like the picture you showed me.”

Another beat passed on the other end of the line, and then Adam’s voice changed completely.

“You’re looking at the Sword of Power?”

The easy warmth from the night before was gone. In its place was something sharper, more focused, like all the air had gone still around him.

You swallowed. “I think so. Unless there are multiple giant magical swords from another world floating around this city.”

“I’m on my way.”

The answer came instantly, and it made you blink.

“That’s it?”

“What else would I say?”

“Maybe ask if I’m sure.”

“I know you’re sure.”

The certainty in his voice startled you more than the sword had. You glanced back toward the store, then pressed your free hand against the glass as if that would keep the sword from disappearing again.

“Stay where you are,” Adam said.

A strange flutter moved through your chest. “You trust me that much?”

“I trusted you the moment you sat at my table.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then Adam’s tone shifted slightly, as though he was forcing himself to break the quiet before it became something else entirely.

“I’m about twenty minutes away.”

You looked into the store again. The sword was still out of sight, and the nervous knot in your stomach returned twice as strong.

“What if somebody buys it?”

“Nobody is buying the Sword of Power.”

“You sound very confident.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“If someone somehow manages to purchase an ancient magical artifact capable of transporting people between worlds before I get there, then we will deal with that problem together.”

Despite yourself, a laugh slipped out of you.

He sounded relieved by it.

“Good,” he said, and his voice softened again. “I was worried you might tell me this was a prank.”

You leaned against the storefront glass, still staring at the shop interior.

“I did consider it.”

“You considered it?”

“For about three seconds.”

“And?”

You looked at your reflection in the glass, then back toward the store, where the sword had vanished beyond sight.

“I decided I wanted it to be true.”

The silence on the other end lasted a little longer this time.

When Adam finally answered, his voice had gentled again.

“So did I.”

For reasons you could not have explained if you tried, that answer made your heart beat even faster than finding the sword had.

And then, almost at once, his voice returned with a practical edge.

“Do not go inside alone.”

You straightened immediately. “I wasn’t planning to.”

“Good.”

A pause.

Then, just before he hung up, he added, “And Y/N?”

“Yes?”

There was a faint shift in his breathing, as though he had smiled at the sound of your name.

“Thank you for calling me.”

[alwritey-aphrodite]

just so everyone's aware - i looked hot as fuck last night

that's all, carry on with your day

[pedritosgirl2000]

My author friends

What do you write on? Notes? Microsoft word? Google Doc?

I wanna get back into writing but I wanna know what’s the best way to get my work transferred to Tumblr smoothly. Do you just write on here and save it to drafts? I tried notes on my phone but it didn’t copy over to here without multiple errors.

Help a girl out please!!

[uuuhshiny]

F*ck, seriously? It’s like you’re photoshopped! ©

[emilydowney]

GIMME THAT

[m-oshun-deactivated20251105]

Time to LOCK IN *falls asleep*

[xya777]

i think we as a society moved too far from pedro pascal as marcus acacius

[quotefeeling]

“The marks humans leave are too often scars.”

— John Green

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

Someone got a tattoo of a longer quote from a vlogbrothers video where I said essentially the same thing only in a roundabout way, and they showed me the tattoo, and I thought, “I could whittle that down a bit.” And that’s the story of this line.

[oscar-isaac]

PEDRO PASCAL 77th Primetime Emmy Awards - September 14, 2025

[stylesispunk]

omg hi pedrito

[piastrionelli]

challengers but it's me with these two

[nicolethered]

A supercut of all the times Javi curses on Narcos