a/n: ran out of links and tagging blogs. thus part two!
hi loves! i never do anything for celebrating but i thought i could make a big list of all my favorite fics i’ve read over the past few months/years and continue rereading. i can never get enough of showing my appreciation for writers and all their hard work, and i want them to know i think of these fics/series at least once a day ♡︎
key- A: angst II F: fluff II S: smut II C: comfort
.𖥔 HARRY POTTER UNIVERSE .𖥔
𝑺𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑼𝑺 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑲
ꨄ︎ tulips part two II @amiableness II A + F + S
After finding out Remus Lupin has found himself a girlfriend, a devastated Y/n L/n asks Sirius Black to help her get over him. Except Sirius has feelings for her.
ꨄ︎ if you love something II @mischievousmoony II A
Your boyfriend, Sirius Black, hasn’t been faithful and you can’t stand it anymore.
𝑱𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑺 𝑷𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹
ꨄ︎ time warp II @astonishment II A + F
when the time-turner breaks, you find yourself at the start of 6th year once again. the only difference? it’s 1976. stuck in a time you shouldn’t even be alive in, you do your best to blend in, anxiously awaiting to see if dumbledore can help you get home. that all goes out the window when you catch the eye of a certain bespectacled boy. and the more time you spend with him, the harder it gets to walk away. but you have to…right?
ꨄ︎ why didn’t we work out II @/astonishment II A + F
James Potter had two girlfriends in seventh year at Hogwarts. Y/N Y/L/N, who he dated for five months; and Lily Evan’s, who he dated afterwards. When he’s dared to call on of his exes, guess who’s number he dials…
ꨄ︎ i can see you II @pretty-little-mind33 II A + C
James panics when he sees what his boggart is.
ꨄ︎ i’ve got plans sorry part two II @livinginshambles II A + C
James is whipped. He adores his girlfriend so much, to the point that it starts to bother his friends. His reaction to a confrontation about it with his friends is to completely pull away from you, always finding new excuses to avoid you, leaving you to try and approach him. When you overhear him trying to be cool under peer pressure and say that you're too clingy, you also start pulling away, using the same excuses.
𝑹𝑬𝑴𝑼𝑺 𝑳𝑼𝑷𝑰𝑵
ꨄ︎ a man with a plan II @ellecdc II A + F
Remus planned to never fall in love. Moony had other plans. [link is ch8]
𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑶𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑻
ꨄ︎ peonies II @/amiableness II A + F
Reader is devastated when Mattheo gets a girlfriend and asks Theo to help her get over him.
𝑺𝑬𝑩𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑨𝑵 𝑺𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾
ꨄ︎ the night shift pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 II @writing-intheundercroft II A + S + F
You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.
𝑮𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑯 𝑾𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑳𝑬𝒀
ꨄ︎ illicit affairs II @festivalsofmargot II A + S
Garreth thinks back on his life with you, and it was far from perfect. But he’d relive every second if he had the chance.
.𖥔 STEVE HARRINGTON .𖥔
ꨄ︎ i’d knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss II @andvys II A + S
Steve was slipping through your fingers and you desperately held onto him not realizing that his heart wasn’t yours anymore. Dealing with the aftermath of your breakup turns out to be harder than you thought. Steve’s presence still lingers and while he keeps a hold of your heart, someone else sneaks their way into it too.
ꨄ︎ second chance II @astermath II A + F
steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.
ꨄ︎ hot for teacher II @handful0fteeth II S
you’re going on your first date with steve harrington, and hours before he’s due to pick you up your best friend gives you some rather unsavory information.
ꨄ︎ five tickets II @slashersteve II F
Steve couldn’t pass up a chance to be able to kiss you, even if there is a price.
ꨄ︎ for a good time call II @chestharrington II S + F
In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away.
ꨄ︎ christmas affairs II @maroon-cardigan II A + S + F
your christmas turns into a chaotic mess when your boss can’t fly back home and you end up stuck in New York City with him.
ꨄ︎ maybe this christmas time II @headkiss II F
working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.
.𖥔 PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS .𖥔
𝑫𝑰𝑵 𝑫𝑱𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵
ꨄ︎ best kept secret II @lincolndjarin II A + S + C + F
Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.
ꨄ︎ in a perfect world, you love me pt2 II @theidiotwhowritesthings II A + C
On the way to visit an old friend, you and Mando find trouble. Both of you are subjected to a drug that puts you in your perfect world. But, when you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, how do you know what to trust?
𝑱𝑶𝑬𝑳 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹
ꨄ︎ somewhere to run II @punkshort II A + S + C
You move to a small town in the middle of Texas to escape your past and start over. You don't expect to fall for the town's handsome sheriff.
ꨄ︎ i know who you are II @/punkshort II A + S + C
A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.
ꨄ︎ the fisherman’s wife II @joelmama II A + S + F
The free-spirited Reader is arranged to marry a divorced Fisherman named Joel Miller. And although she protested this at first, she soon wonders if maybe she could be happy with her new husband.
ꨄ︎ we bleed together II @bubbles-for-all-of-us II A
what if the last day of humanity was different? What if instead of loosing Sarah, Joel lost you - the mother of his two children and the person who had built him up to a better man.
𝑱𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑬𝑳𝑺
ꨄ︎ cupcake II deactivated blog II F
Jack Daniels, lead used car salesman at his dealership, has a crush on you, the pretty receptionist. It's too bad he can't get out of his own way. Luckily for him, you have patience and a soft spot for shy cowboys.
ꨄ︎ hot chocolate II @/punkshort II F + S
You lead a quiet, boring life in a podunk town, but when a certain secret agent stumbles into your world needing your help to catch a criminal at the local carnival, your quiet little life changes forever.
𝑱𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 𝑷𝑬𝑵𝑨
ꨄ︎ online love II @absurdthirst and @storiesofthefandomlovers II A + S + F
Coming home after Cali, Javi finds that his dad has moved into modern times. There's a computer in the house. Unsatisfied with his reputation proceeding him, he decides to go online to find out if he can be the man he wants to be. Except the one he connects with, you, has a very complicated past together.
.𖥔 MISCELLANEOUS .𖥔
𝑷𝑶𝑬 𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑵
ꨄ︎ hard landings II deactivated blog II A + F
Everybody in the kriffin galaxy seems to know you...Except for Poe.
ꨄ︎ something forgotten II @bensolosbluesaber II A + F
Poe Dameron is the love of your life, but he can’t remember you. Still, Poe finds himself drawn to you and seeing flashes of a life he has forgotten.
ꨄ︎ nine part two II @foxilayde II S
Idiots in love. You’re the idiot, mainly. You happen to hear something quite salacious about your bestie. And oooh boy, are you awful at keeping your shit together.
𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑵 𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹
ꨄ︎ impetus II @wildwestdean II A + F
dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?
ꨄ︎ friends after all part 34 II @angelkurenai II A + S
Dean Winchester. Mechanic. Neighbour. Best friend. Single father. And fake boyfriend? You babysit his daughter. You’ve known him for years and you’ve been really close. Everything will be put to test though when your sister's wedding approaches and he has the brilliant idea of pretending to be your boyfriend. Nobody would have ever thought of the result. Certainly not you.
𝑨𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑵 𝑯𝑶𝑻𝑪𝑯𝑵𝑬𝑹
ꨄ︎ sick of maybe II @luveline II A + C
You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).
ꨄ︎ three cents II @xneens II F
you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.
𝑻𝑶𝑴𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹
ꨄ︎ wrong place, right time II @hauntedhowlett-writes II S
what if joel didn’t answer tommy’s call from jail? and what if the waitress he’d been defending that night bailed him out instead?
𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑯𝑼𝑹 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑵
ꨄ︎ fakin it II @hihomeghere II S
After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track?
Here’s the Masterlist for my very first challenge, I’m so excited to share this stunning list of fics and I’m grateful so many of you decided to join♥️
Honestly, being a small blog, I thought no one would participate, but I'm so happy to have proved wrong and I don’t know how to thank you all!
The list will be updated as the fanfictions are published, there’s more to come and I’m pretty sure everything will be phenomenal 🔥
I’m having the best time reading these works so please give them all the love, any kind comment and reblog means so much and these writers deserve all the flowers!
Thank you again to everyone who participated!
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
Joel Miller
'Till it sticks - Joel Miller x f!reader by @shadowqueen2024
Summary: When Joel sees you taking care of Benji, he couldn't help but think what it was like having your own kids. And once he knew it's what you've wanted, he was going to make sure it happens.
Heaven or Hell - Stepdad!Joel Miller x fem!reader by @aurorawritestoescape
Summary: Joel helps you to master self-control - OR - your stepdad makes you cockwarm him.
Just Relax - Joel Miller x f!reader by @ess-evo
Summary: You've been dating Joel for a while and your sex life is great, but you can't stop fantasizing about that one thing that you've always wanted to try and never have. After bringing it up numerous times, Joel caves and you're over the moon about finally getting to edge him.
Overachiever - Joel Miller x f!reader by @hanahleah
Summary: you want to give Joel a birthday gift he won't forget, but desperate to prove you can, you almost hurt yourself in the process. Joel has to remind you of some ground rules.
15 minutes - bffdad!Joel Miller x college!reader by @softly-potter
Summary: You’re in town from college and decide to put all those words to Joel to good use
Marcus Pike
Beauty Sleep - Marcus Pike x f!reader by @peepawmiller
Summary: Marcus loved it when you stole his clothes. Loved it even more when you paraded around in them like an insatiable temptress. It's like you wore his clothes for the specific purpose of letting him unwrap you. To unearth the beauty hidden under his too-large button downs, or the oversized sweats you had to roll three times in order to walk safely around the apartment. But his favorite was the FBI t-shirt. Because it had a very. Specific. Meaning.
Clint Flood
Just a Hand - Clint Flood x reader by @mcthsman
Summary: The sex is great. It really is. Clint makes you come more than any man ever has, is attentive to your needs and makes you feel like a goddess, but… It's so sweet it swerves into the lane of boredom. And while Clint's loving nature is a very welcome change to what you're used to, you still feel like there's something amiss. So, one late night on the phone with your best friend, you concoct a plan to get freaky.
Safety off - Clint Flood x f!reader by @missadangel
Summary: There’s a lotta ways a Friday night can go sideways. For a debt collector, most of them ain’t pretty. But getting robbed by a fine-ass thief? That’s new. Her gun? Safety off. His temper? Already ON.
Ted Garcia
Hole in the wall - Ted Garcia x f!reader by @baronessvonglitter
Summary:The Hole in the Wall is the best kept secret in New Mexico.. and the mayor of Eddington is its newest guest.
Dieter Bravo
It's all Brad's fault - Dieter Bravo x pregnant!reader by @tateypots
Summary: You start using Dieter’s trailer to pump when your breast milk comes in. It drives Dieter wild.
Harry Castillo
Touch of Love - Harry Castillo x OFC by @sawymredfox
Summary: Being together after a week apart brings forward some revelations.
Earned it - Harry Castillo x f!reader by @cozymochaa
Summary: Harry is a man who always needs control. But when you come along, the lines between lust, obsession, and love start to blur, and he gets the urge to let go completely.
Mirror mirror on the wall - Harry Castillo x f!reader by @maroonpascal
Summary: life with Harry is always full of surprises, and the next one is just hanging on the wall, waiting for you.
Jack Daniels
Heat of the moment - Jack Daniels x f!reader by @broad-shouldrs
Summary: you tell jack your darkest sexual fantasy.
Javier Peña
Crosshairs - chapter 3 - Javier Peña x Jackson!Joel Miller by @rosharanfiction
Chapter Summary: In the aftermath of a violent patrol, Jackson goes on high alert. Javi and Joel both struggle to recover, and the pull between them strengthens. But exploring it would be a mistake… right?
Somewhere only we know - Javier Peña x fem reader by @milla-frenchy
Summary: it’s a story about two people who are very dear to each other, but too scared to turn their friendship into something else. They search for each other in other people and places until fate brings them back together at the right time
» if there was a column people waited to read every week, it was yours. famed sex-columnist, and the heart of new york city's dating scene, you give a play by play of your love life and what it all means. the readers of your column begin to notice a reoccurring character, beyond the flings and awkward second chances. will he become the main character, or are you doomed to croon about the tragic dating scene?
» author's note: this is a new series i'm staring based off this post i made! it's a 'sex and the city' based fic series. each entry is a different character from the ppcu, so each chapter will focus on a character. they will all be standalone fics, and you don't have to watch sex and the city to understand the plot. let me know your thoughts! :)
» the playlist link
⌕ old dogs, new tricks ༝ joel miller
⌕ easy come, easy go ༝ javier peña
⌕ time and punishment ༝ din djarin
⌕ plus one is the loneliest number ༝ oberyn martell
word count: 6.9k, sorry this got out of hand WAYY too much | requests are open | about me + masterlist | harry castillo x singlemom!reader here if anyone is interested....| a joel miller x single mom! reader if anyone’s interested here.
reblogs and comments are appreciated!!! comment if you want to be tagged! send me asks about this! asks/ideas/anything! inbox is always open :)
summary: it's simple really, jack daniels is alive, and lives a boring life. exiled from statesman's intelligence operations, he works in the financial department of the distillery. he has a merger to go to, but the first class seat falls through on a mixup, and his window seat given to him as a concession is taken by a girl with bright eyes, and her exasperated mother too :)
warnings: no warnings....FLUFF. SO MUCH. TOOTH ROTTING. FLUFF. SO MUCH FLUFF OH MY GOD. actually well yes warning of death, jack's high school sweetheart and your husband died too. i think i use y/n once.
authors note: HI HOW IS EVERYONE DOING!!! is the agent whiskey fandom alive and well....i love him i love him so dearly i wanted him to be my husband when i first watched the film <3 i just want him to have a happy ending!! im back on my bullshit with another single mom fic!!! out of the several single mom fics i have sitting in my drafts!!!! ohh my god i am NOT WELL I AM NOT WELL THINKING ABOUT AGENT WHISKEY and how he should have had like. life. he deserved love. i started wiritng this in mid august n then life got in the way. god everything is EVIL but here...a single mom fic for all the enjoyers <3 this is a stream of conciousness fic, i got posessed and started writing it like whilst i'm running a fever....live laugh love again. i should start wearing a coat to places, summer is OVER. WHISKEY IS A GIRLDAD. TO ME. i know he is...also he met his match with a four year old child and her exasperated mom. ALSO! the little fake family moments are going to make me SICK!!! i loved going in the cockpit when i was younger btw!! pilots just do let you do that sometimes!!! OK ITS 2AM. which means...as per usuall....im posted fic!! and then im immediately PASSING OUT!!!!! goodNIGHT!
flying comes with its own can of worms, he’s convinced. the plane is a little too tiny for him, economy seat boxing him in just a little bit. he's not the frequent flier type. not anymore, after the incident with kingsman, he’s taken a grounded role in the business side of statesman. one that doesn’t have him flying around the world on a private jet with lethal weapons on him. he’s usually in the dallas office, pushing papers, but today he’s flying up to chicago for a merger. it’s mostly champ or tequila who deal with the out of state stuff, but champ has to take it easy after his surgery, and tequila’s sister had him as a groomsman for her wedding, and he’d said he was willing to help set up her flower arrangements.
when he got to the gate, he’d been told it had been overbooked. his first class seat somehow given to the other person. he’s given a choice to stay and wait for the next plane out of dallas the next morning, or sit in the economy seat instead.
and so here he is now, settling into the economy seat the lady at the counter told him he’d be sitting in, no reason to overextend statesman resources and time after another year of being in the black, the distillery not doing as well this year. 32A. he’ll be fine, he tries to calm himself, it’s just six odd hours from dallas to chicago, and this plane is much safer than half of the ones he flew back in his agent days. he can handle sitting in an economy seat for those four hours, read a book, scroll on his phone. the usual.
32A is a window seat, and he’s one of the first few onto the plane. ginger always told him he’s got a classic case of ‘airport dad’, where he’s getting to the gate an hour before boarding even starts. that memory always makes him smile. it’s nice that she still stuck with him, even in the after. his small suitcase is locked away overhead, and he keeps his laptop bag in front of him, not that he’ll use it anyway.
as the plane fills up, he notices that the seats next to him are suspiciously empty, and he puts the laptop bag in the middle seat (propping his stetson up on it). happy that there’s nobody sitting next to him for the next few hours.
he straps into his seat, and mentally plans to lie down lengthways to get over how cramped it is in here. cabin crew call out for final boarding, and he’s putting on his headphones, listening to some johnny cash before the plane sets off.
a small hand taps on his shoulder all of a sudden, and he blinks open his eyes to see a small girl of about four, big glasses perched on her nose, with her hair tied in two bunches.
“hi!” she says, all too bright for a flight at 6:20am, behind her glasses are some wide brown eyes, “you’re in my seat!”
she gives a small grin, and he can see one of her teeth are missing from the front. a stumble from behind her, but he looks at the boarding pass in his hands. 32A is a window seat.
“charlie!” you chastise behind her, and he sees the same hair as that of the girl beside him, tied into a low bun, escaping the scrunchie. you look just like her, obviously her mother, all frazzled and sleep deprived. dark circles under your eyes, the yellow summer dress you wear hangs by your ankles. too bright and sunny to match how tired you look.
the girl pouts and sits back down on her seat with an angry huff. he sees you try to stuff the backpack up in the overhead compartment (it slips down and falls on you twice) before giving up and just putting it in the seat in front of your aisle one
“i’m so sorry sir,” you scrub your hands over your face with a sigh, hair coming loose from the bun it was held in, “charlotte knows better than to lie, doesn’t she?”
there’s still that smile on her face as she peers past him through the window, the plane hasn’t left the airport yet, hasn’t even started to move and yet all she wants to see is outside.
“no it’s fine sugar.” he says after a moment, his voice is all gravelly and rough, and he tries to be as gentle as possible, but you look embarrassed, face pale, the nickname rolls off his tongue with ease. he used to call pretty women sugar all the time, back when he was an agent.
“it was funny darlin’, really.” he waves a hand away, opening his phone to text ginger that his plane was leaving on time. the window seat is cramped, and the girl keeps scrambling on his arms to try and lean over him to look outside, pushing her face against his shoulder to push her glasses back up.
and it is funny, really. he was a secret agent once, deadly with a gun and electric whips. and here he is now, worried that this tiny child would muddy his stetson that had fallen to the floor. how times have changed.
“charlie!” you pull her back, hands gripping her shoulders firmly. he doesn’t know much about kids, never had the chance to have a kid of his own.
his son would have been in his teens now, he thinks, if he’d ended up surviving.
he doesn’t think about it, tries to put the grief behind. he’d been drowning in it for years before the incident, like a wound that healed wrong. the scar on the side of his head prickles, the one that he’d got after being shot. hidden by his curls, nobody else can see it, but he can feel it. in moments like these, when he remembers. at least he got help in the nebulous after, hours where he sat in the hospital room, with physical and emotional therapists.
he doesn’t have any kids, but he knows how they are at this age. all questions with no patience to listen to the answer. he can’t help but laugh when he sees you try and wrestle your daughter into her seat, having to put her seatbelt in. it distracts him from the past.
he’d never been on a plane at this age, but he guesses he would be as annoying as this kid, probably even worse.
the cabin crew turn on the seatbelt sign, and the captain makes an announcement that they’ll be taking off soon.
“please can we swap seats?” your daughter frowns, giving him the saddest brown eyes he’s ever seen in his life. all wide and big and teary, with her bottom lip wobbling. “pleaaaaseee?”
“why?” he asks, eyes flicking to her and then you, busy unpacking the bag full of food for her. fruit snacks, dried mango that actually looked good this early in the morning. you look like you aren’t listening, too exhausted to pay attention, he can see your fringe curling over your forehead, framing your face.
she frowns, biting her lip nervously, “jus’ like looking at the clouds.” her voice is all high pitched and sweet, all too excited for 6:30 in the mornings, “i like the colours.” she adds, “like candy-floss and stuff.”
it seems so mundane, ‘like candy-floss and stuff’. whatever that means. her glasses are the same colour of purple that the sky is. she doesn’t have any baggage to carry, no past weighing her down. just clouds that look like candy-floss.
“oh,” he manages a smile, he’s barely spoken to kids after his wife and son died. there wasn’t a reason to, it hurt too much, like he would carry the guilt of not interacting in them. carry the guilt that he lived and they didn’t. but it doesn’t feel guilty here, speaking to your daughter, charlie, he reminds himself. “remind me never t’ play poker with you little birdie.” he laughs, and your ears burn with shame and embarrassment for your kid talking a mile a minute, and also at his laugh.
his laugh sounds nice. good natured enough to humour your daughter instead of putting on the headphones he had placed on his knee.
charlotte frowns, and then digs her shoes into the back of the seats, you can almost see the cogs in her brain move “but i get sick in the middle seat, if i don’t look outside.”
“charlotte.” you say, sharply, hand stilling her knee. being sick or not, the window isn’t her seat, you can’t have her ousting the (admittedly very handsome) guy out of his seat.
“i get very sick.” she says, oh so matter-of-factly, legs swinging on her seat and the guy seems to be listening, and throwing glances to the laptop bag and the cowboy hat on the floor.
he shoots a look at you, and you give a small smile, apologetic, but damn does your daughter run a good hustle.
“she doesn’t.” you mouth, placing a stilling hand on your daughter’s shoulder again. “charlotte, please let that man just sit in the window seat in peace.”
she tries again, with her huge eyes, and he grimaces.
“yeah kid, those puppy eyes are workin’ “ he sighs, and then unbuckles his seat, “we swappin’ seats or what ?” his voice is smooth, as it always is. he was a secret agent for the lord’s sake, and yet….you’re pretty.
with your tired eyes and the homemade sandwiches you’ve packed for your daughter sitting in the bag on your lap. you’re not the bombshells he used to chase when he was an agent, pretty in the way that seemed real. which makes him a little flustered. “this window seat is a little too small for me anyway.”
“i didn’t want to say it, but it’s true.” charlie nods solemnly, and you see the man put the hand over his heart, wounded.
then his brown eyes meet yours again, and he jerks thumb to the side, “swapping okay?”
you frown, and then realise he means the two of you, have your daughter move to the window seat, you move into the middle, and he has to do the awkward shuffle of going all the way to the aisle.
before you can even process his words, your daughter is already clapping her hands and nodding. “yes! thank you mister!!!”
she’s already standing up on her seat and he stands up so he’s in the tiny space between the seat and the one in front of him. charlotte more or less just leaps into the seat, and you just stare at her with raised eyebrows.
“i’m so sorry sir, she isn’t like this usually.” you stifle a laugh, and then notice that he’s standing in front of you. tight jeans, a white tshirt that looks like it’s been ironed before he got here. the person in front of him pushes their seat back, and he’s pushed forwards with an “oof”, strong arm holding him upright, hand pressed against your seat’s headrest.
your faces are incredibly close, there’s no space on an aeroplane anyway. and he pulls back as soon as the person pulls their goddamn seat back. but it’s too late, he’s already seen the specks of gold in your eyes, felt your breath on his face. you smell of fresh flowers, you smell good.
“that’s dandy.” he says, as nonchalantly as possible, he almost introduces himself as whiskey, all flashing grins and charm. he bends down to pick up the stetson off the ground, and places it in your lap as he hurriedly shuffles over to the aisle seat. “the name’s jack.”
he’s pretty sure he got the window seat because the airline felt bad for messing up his first class ticket, but that kid looks so happy that he doesn’t bother bringing it up.
“now, want me to handle that for ya?” he picks your bag up from the aisle seat, and dangles it above you. you nod as you watch him put it up. embarrassed still but you’re. well. you’re. it’s. it’s a handsome stranger on a plane, a cliche and you’ve fallen right for it. with his tight white shirt that you could see his muscles flex through as he put the bag overhead.
“oh, my name is (y/n).” you hold out your hand for his, “and that one there is charlie. squirt’s four and acting up like this all her life.”
he takes it, his hand so much bigger than yours, warmer too, “good to know darlin’.” he grins, all teeth, you’re quite frankly overwhelmed by how flashy the smile is, “kid’s a spitfire alright.”
“she loves planes.” you say gently, a hand stroking her back as she keeps looking out of the plane, “always wanted to go on one, last time she was on one of these she was a toddler.
“peach wouldn’t remember a thing then, would she?” he tilts his head to see her, the seatbelt sign is back on again, and he sees her fumble with the belt before you stop to click it in.
“she doesn’t” you turn back to him, with a sigh, “that’s why she’s super excited to fly this time…and wanted the window seat.”
“hustled me out of prime real estate that one.” he huffs, but his words aren’t sharp. not by the way there’s a smile tugging at his handsome lips, that your eyes keep being drawn to.
“yeah, she hustled a real life cowboy.” your eyes linger on the hat, the engines of the plane start growling, and your jaw tenses. it’s slight, but he’s a spy — was a spy. had been taught how to read people. your daughter may be at home on this flight, but you were decidedly not.
your hands grip the bag of food you have in your hands, knuckles clenching. he has half a mind to offer you his hand to squeeze, but he isn’t a secret agent charming ladies at the bar anymore.
the plane takes off with a jolt, and you squeeze your eyes shut. your daughter’s face is plastered against the window, hands on both sides. he hears you muttering a little prayer, and you’re both thrown backwards in your seats when the plane leaves the ground.
you let out a sigh, and the relief softens your frame. “thanks again,” you rub your eyes, “she would have actually made the flight a living hell otherwise.”
“fair trade.” he gives you a small smile, “this way everyone’s happy, she gets the window, ya get some peace and quiet and i get a chance to stretch these legs before they cramp up.”
his voice is charming, you decide. all sweet, like honey. and he’s so kind, moving from his window seat that you’re sure he paid extra for. you blush, scrunching up your eyes, hiding your smile before your hands. the tote bag full of food is heavy on your lap, and you put your hand inside, bringing out a pack of dried mango.
“here,” you pass the small pack to him, and he can smell sugary goodness in there, “a thank you.”
it’s strange, he thinks. he’s eaten at restaurants with michelin stars, and he’s eaten freeze dried rations and yet being handed this tiny bag shocks him. you’re too kind for him, he thinks, with the weight of the past that he carries. with the sparkles in your eyes, and the softness of your smile as you pass a bag of dried mango fruit snacks for him. obviously packed for your daughter.
“you sure?” he asks, but you shrug and tilt your head to your daughter, stil staring at the clouds with that look on her face.
“she doesn’t even like mango, and i overpacked so much stuff, just in case.” you laugh, face flushed with embarrassment, “please take this as a thank you, i don’t think i’ll be able to tear her away from the window.”
you settle into a rhythm, feeding your daughter pieces of dried fruit when she finally pulls away from the window. you idly scroll through the books app on your phone, ill-prepared for this flight. saving money on subscriptions had you on a flight with nothing to do.
except maybe look at the man next to you, same white t-shirt, stetson jacket over it, and the cowboy hat at his feet… and maybe laugh at the absurdity of it all. a handsome cowboy, wearing a $600 jacket, sitting next to you of all people.
as the plane starts to rise, your daughter tugs your collar, and her mother – you – turn around, your eyes sparkling with the same softness, your phone is forgotten on your lap. he’s a spy (was a spy), he’s been taught to observe, and he observes the way you sit with your daughter, talking to her about all the things she can see down below. the large green fields, little cities with little buildings. the world looks like a miniature model below, and both your faces look with bright eyes and smiles.
the warmth. the warmth that seeps through the little bubble, through to him. there is some warmth left to spare. and you pick up your phone again after a few minutes, when the green fields and red farmhouses turn into white fluffy clouds. your daughter is content in staring outside, out into the blue of the sky and the grey of the clouds.
he unlocks his phone too, not to scroll through some downloaded book like what you’re going through, he’s looking at distillery profits and losses, which drinks did what. flicking through powerpoint slides that people in his department made for the quarterly budget. finance things, stuff he’s been resigned to after champ gave him a second chance at life. he’s got glasses on his face, not the statesman ones he’s been used to for the past two decades, with cameras and microphones and the ability to join meetings, just normal ones with the same wire frame, helping him read better.
your eyes flick to his on your right, and you think he looks rather good, with his glasses. less of the cowboy, with what the hat that’s under his feet, and more of the charming man who her daughter convinced to let him swap seats with.
clearly there is a point in the fifteen minutes where your daughter stops caring about the outside, turning away from the window with a dramatic sigh, and back to you on your phone and him on his.
“are you a real life cowboy?” she asks, all inquisitive big brown eyes, her foot pressing against the seat in front of her, “i mean, because you got your boots and your hat?”
you look up from your book at that, and turn to him, and he can see two pairs of matching faces looking up to him, your daughter with curiosity, and you with a small smile on your face, as if you can feel him getting flustered by your gaze.
he’s been a real life cowboy, several times. wore a stetson, boots with spurs, and he’s charmed a thousand women with his twang. lassoes and whips and the secret service. he had been a cowboy and lived a whole life before now.
the question throws him off kilter, so point blank it’s almost funny. “uh, i’m as real as a cowboy can be.”
charlie squints at him, as if she doesn’t believe him, but you judge her with an elbow, “we’re flying out of texas charlie, we’re bound to see a cowboy or two.”
“but wha’s the point of a cowboy.” she says it, all as one word, blending all the vowels together, and you pick up the bag by your feet to pull out a juice box for her, “we got the cars.”
you look at him from under your hair, strands falling over your face, “she makes a good point, cowboy jack,” the nickname makes him laugh, huffed out from behind his hand, “we do got the cars, no need to ride horses.”
“yeah,” they do have guns, but he still used electric lassoes, they do have shoes but he still wore cowboy boots, “this is just how we do it in kentucky, got more horses than cars.”
“mm.” she hums, in that sharp, pitched way, like she still doesn’t believe him but she’s got no counter arguments, then she’s looking outside the window again, at the way the soft morning light hits the clouds, making it a rainbow.
“mom, can i have the phone?” she holds out a hand, and you double tap on the camera app before handing it to her. he was a spy, he can’t help but see what you were reading, and it’s a page from pride and prejudice.
“hope she didn’t put you on the spot.” you sigh, watching her try and take a photo of the clouds, “she’s always a bit too chatty.”
“she’s fine, darlin.” he says the nickname before his brain realises, and you give another laugh, it’s rough from how early it is in the morning and so unlike the high pitched laughs he’d been hearing in bars all his life.
“you really do have the southern charm,” you sigh again, before turning back to him, he can see your eyes with sleep still hanging in them, how frazzled you are from the way your makeup is fading and your hair is coming loose from the bun, “what’s a gentleman like you doing in economy?”
you’d noticed the jacket, and the hat, both stetsons.
“last minute mixup,i work in the financials of a local distillery, but mixup means i’m flying coach on this red eye.” keep it vague, he thinks, she doesn’t need to know about your past, he thinks.
he tips an imaginary hat, like he’s used to doing it “and now this cowboy is at your service.”
you nod back at him, and before you can make a witty quip with the handsome man, your daughter pipes up from her seat, without even looking, “i want juice.”
“bubs, i just gave you juice.” you sigh, pushing the unopened juice box at her on the tray table.
“that’s apple juice, i hate apples.” she says, not even sparing you two a glance. you look at the juice box, and sigh.
“how can you hate apples? they’re such a normal fruit.” jack drawls, from the aisle seat, shocking you. that makes charlie turn around, and frown.
“jus’ dontlike ‘em.” she scrunched up her face, “only like orange juice.”
“i haven’t packed-“ you start, feeling your daughter’s tantrum coming along, but he’s already unbuckling his seatbelt, “i’ll get us some orange juice, three cups, unless you want something else?”
oh. your heart stutters, and your daughter gives a thumbs up, a stranger with a cowboy hat who moved for your daughter is now getting the three of you orange juice from the plane’s galley.
you unbuckle your seatbelt too, desperate for a little walk around the plane, and your daughter hastily jumps out of her seat too.
“charlie, you don’t have to walk if you don’t want to.” you bend down, murmuring in her ear with those soft tones, he doesn’t know how long you two have been walking for, 6am flights, two boarding passes stuffed into your passport holders. she holds up her hands for you, and you sweep her up easily, she curls around your neck, fitting on your hip.
“okay, let’s go bubs.” he leads the way to the galley, and you follow, your daughter who can’t be any more than four chatters away, talking about the clouds and the sky.
“rainbows, they happen when a ray of sunlight goes through a prim-sm,” she babbles, tiredly “or raindrops, that’s why we can’t see any? because we’re above the clouds right now.”
it’s a small space, the small corridor where the two of you stand, with your daughter hanging off you. you can see him much better, he’s taller than you, but his eyes are so rich and brown it’s hard to tear yourself away.
and you. you look like a woman he’d never think about. with a child, so much and yet so little like what he lost. a woman he wouldn’t dare to look at, reminding him of the son and the wife that never came back.
and then he remembers, nor did he.
“could i have three orange juices please ma’am?” he looks away from you, talking to the flight attendant, the blonde with wide blue eyes, her emerald ring sparkling on her finger, matching her earrings. a part of him pangs, asking you where your ring is, your finger bare and your ears with small purple butterfly studs in them, matching the flowers in your daughter’s ears.
“uh-“ you hold out your arm, “can I get a tea instead, orange juice is a bit too acidic for the mornings.”
something so plain, so ridiculously, hopelessly, stupidly normal. no orange juice in the early mornings because of acid reflux, and the life you lead is so much less complicated than the one he had lived.
“tea for the lady then, ma’am.” he says, all southern charm and manners, and soon you have two cups of orange juice and a steaming cup of tea with a shot of milk for you.
you start to put your daughter down, but she curls into your neck, “i don’t wanna get down.” her face is in a tiny frown, and jack hates to see that. he doesn’t have any kids (had, had one. almost had one.) but he isn’t cruel.
“here, let me.” he offers his own hands, and if it wasn’t this early in the morning, you’d never let charlie out of your sight. but it’s 6:40am, you’re swaying on your feet, and with narrowed eyes, you hand your daughter to the cowboy in front of you.
you hold the three cups in your hands, and watch him walk to the seats, before gently placing your daughter into her seat with barely a snuffle. then he steps aside for you, and you open the tray tables for the cups.
“can’t believe she asked for the juice and she fell asleep in th’first place.” he drawls, but you can’t stop replaying the wat he gently placed your daughter in her seat. so gentle.
“have you done that before?” you blurt out, and he can say a thousand things. he can say the thing he’s told fifty women before you, at a bar.
he tells the truth.
“seventeen years ago, i was twenty, lived in the bad part of austin with my wife. painted the nursery blue and everything, practiced holding a baby f’ months. but then she stepped out for some things, eggs, i dunno. and the next thing i got was a phone call to identify the body.”
he keeps it short, clean. as if he didn’t suffer fifteen years of revenge and hatred after it. as if he didn’t die and kill for peace.
you frown, not a spy, not a woman at a fancy bar. your hair in a low bun, falling over your face as you try and brush it away from your eyes. so…not those women he’s seen, so much like the woman he saw eighteen years ago. when they were both twenty.
you are frazzled, and harried, and not as polished as a spy would be. no facade to hide behind, you just look at him with sympathetic eyes, and a hand on his broad shoulder.
“i’m sorry.” you offer, swallowing thickly, you look at him with such clarity in your eyes. it’s almost laughable, how easy you are to see through, in another life he would have called you a bad asset. but in this one, he lets your hand linger on his shoulder.
“her dad too,” you close your eyes, leaning against the headrest, “he. it was a hit and run, he never saw it coming.” you shake your head, “i always said he was selfish for leaving me seven months pregnant with her.”
you blink your eyes open, like you’ve begged with fate to not tell this story a hundred times, and still you still told it to him. your loss cuts sharp, couldn’t be any more than five years old. he had fifteen years to stew, but you had four years of a daughter to raise.
“ ‘s life isn’t it, darlin?” he says, lazily, hiding behind bravado, but you take it anyway, wiping away the tears from your eyes with soft fingers.
“course, course, cowboy jack,” you sip your tea, and he takes a sip out of his orange juice, “you got a last name or will i have to call you that every time?”
there’ll be more times? the part of his brain that’s as eager as a dog almost wags its tail. but of course she doesn’t want someone as damaged as you, his rational mind supplies. a traitor.
“daniels.” he musters.
“jack…daniels?” you frown, almost choking on your tea, “you’re a goddamn cowboy, from the south, called jack daniels?!”
“i can show you my id if you want,” and he pulls out his god honest drivers license. the one he never shows women at bars or at festivals or dates. this is him, without a cover. this is jack daniels not agent whiskey.
he won’t tell you about the agent whiskey thing either, that would just scare you off. but he knows you’d laugh, and he takes that imagined laugh, and keeps it close to his heart.
“huh…you weren’t lying.” you shake your head, “your parents weren’t joking when they named you?”
“no ma’am” he mock salutes, “daniels family for years, just liked the name jack, thought i looked like a bean.” that gets a laugh out of you, the simplicity of this moment not lost on you.
“goin’ somewhere far?” he asks, and you can tell it’s probably because of the dark bags under your eyes.
“uh yeah, seattle to sacramento, sacramento to dallas and then finally, dallas to chicago.” you sigh, scrubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms, “long travel journey.”
he knows it’s to cut costs, he doesn’t say it though.
“i’m travellin’ on business, not pleasure -” he blurts out, and you smile at that.
“when did i say you were?”
“i’m just sayin ma’am, travelling for business.” he nods.
“well, uh-” you smile again, “thanks for letting me know.” and it completely short circuits him, like you’re filing the information away for later, he’s desperate to see your smile again, over and over again. you wouldn’t have to do three flights to get from one place to another, if he spoiled you, he had a house in the suburbs that was too empty for him alone.
after a few hours, the lights have dimmed, window shutters closed. the sun is up in the sky but half the people on the aircraft are exhausted, himself included. your daughter, charlie, charlotte, has exhausted herself from the window, from your phone, from talking to you and annoying him. she’s fast asleep by the window, small enough to curl up on the seat comfortably. her little toy bear is in her hands, clutched tight, he remembers she still grumbled for it before you pulled it out of your bag.
she places her legs along her mothers lap, your lap. your hands stroke over her ankles with gentleness. still holding onto her, even as you sleep.
because you’ve fallen asleep too. somewhere over the second hour you’ve fallen fast asleep, eyes closing as you kept holding onto your daughter. you rested your head on the headrest, but your daughter kept squirming and you weren’t tall enough for the absurdly high headrest.
he sees your head tip, and then feels your cheek press against his shoulder. it’s soft, you’re light against him, but he knows if he stays like this you’ll get a crick in your neck. he’s done this far too many times — and so he adjusts himself, pushes himself a little further down so that you can rest on his shoulder better.
he thinks you look nice like this, in your sleep, the lines on your face smooth out and he can see what your face would look like in peace. all soft, like his entire heart depends on it.
you’re out like a light, but all he can think of is you. jasmine shampoo in your hair, your cheek against his shoulder, you resting on his stetson jacket. it’s too much, it makes his fingers tingle in a way nothing quite has for seventeen years, as if you’re forcing life from you to him.
the plane rocks gently, through some mild turbulence. not enough to wake you, but enough to shake you against him, and he holds out a steady arm to catch you if you fall.
you don’t, but you do list sideways, and he keeps you upright. it’s this sort of softness he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in years, doesn’t feel like he deserved to feel it in years.
he doesn’t even hear the flight attendant walks up to your seats, the same one that the two of you met in the galley, with the green stone in her ring and in her earrings.
she looks down at jack, and then at the empty cups, “i’ll take them.” and jack nods, finishing off charlie’s untouched juice that had turned lukewarm in the hours since. all three cups go in the trash, and then she turns to the three of them.
“would you like anything this morning?” she asks, all polite and proper, and he hums, “yeah, could I get some coffee?”
she pulls out the coffee thermos, and pours into a cup, and hands it to him, “and anything for your wife and daughter?” she says, like it means nothing.
his breath catches against his chest, it doesn’t mean nothing. it means everything, like a life he didn’t believe he’d have. he should just correct the attendant, this is not my wife and that’s not my daughter, but then the attendant smiles all so sweet and adds, “she has your curls you know?”
“oh i…” he doesn’t know how to continue, freezes in his seat. that’s the life he could have had, and his life feels like these two are what fills the holes in his heart. suddenly it does look like charlie’s curls are a bit like his, suddenly it does look terribly domestic with your head on his shoulder.
he doesn’t know what else to say, so he just says, “thank you.” and then swallows, “i’ll take a muffin for the kid if you have it.”
she passes him a sealed packet of a muffin, worse than what he gets in first class usually, and worse than the fruit snacks he knows that are in your bag, but still he takes it and places it on the tray table in front of you.
he doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but he wakes up as soon as you stir on his shoulders. you pull your head away, and he sleepily blinks his eyes, clearly letting you have you space.
“oh god, i’m so sorry…” you mumble, yawning, stretching your shoulders, “i didn’t realise-“ you yawn again.
“don’t worry,” he brushes down his hair, “things happen.”
let them happen. a small voice in his head says. let them happen.
your daughter gasps next to you, as she grabs the muffin in the packet. “mom, they had muffins when we were asleep?”
“say thank you to mr daniels, okay?” you nudge your daughter, and she nods at him solemnly, before taking a huge bite out of the muffin.
“m’ku m’th ‘aniels.” she sprays crumbs everywhere when she talks, but it makes him laugh, and it makes you flush.
“charlotte, close your mouth when you eat.” you close her jaw with your hand, and then shake your head, as if to say children, am i right.
and jack would agree with you with whatever, he doesn’t have any children of his own. but your words are like gospel to him, and he’ll listen to anything you’ll say.
the plane lands smoothly, and he’d say he’s lying if his brain wasn’t filled with you and charlie, munching away at a muffin. chicago is big and full of people. charlie looks at him like he hangs the moon and the stars, all so bright, with her brown eyes staring at him, talks to him like he’s a wonder. he’s given her his window seat, talked to her about being a cowboy, even told her if she asks nicely, him and you can go take her to see the pilot.
“can we really?!” she asks, wide eyed, grabbing onto your arms as she kicks her feet, “see where they drive the plane from!”
“it’s called a cockpit,” you softly correct her, she’s easily excitable, “but i have no idea you’re going to ask the cowboy here.”
he rolls his eyes, “it’s just jack, sugar.” and then whispers to your daughter — “but don’t you worry about that peach, we’ll show you the cockpit real soon, okay?”
the three of you wait until the plane is empty, and then she shrieks as she runs towards the front of the plane. jack’s pulled down your bag from the overhead cabin, as well as his little suitcase, and he’s dragging it down the aisle, trying to keep up with you two.
it’s terribly domestic, he thinks, but he doesn’t think he’d get much more than this. not in this life.
the co-pilot is in there, and he grins as charlie starts asking a hundred questions, like “what button makes the plane fly (that one) can you make the plane do a loop? (no) can i flick that switch (wait…yes okay, that’s the light switch.)
you blush behind your hands, your daughter too loud for a four year old. always has a head in a book about planes, and the pilot strolls into the cockpit, seeing the scene. jack, holding onto your daughter’s hand as he talks to the copilot, your daughter, yammering away about something planes do, and you, watching this all with a hand on jack’s suitcase and your backpack on your back and a little tote bag on your arm.
“oh, how did you know we let the kids in the cockpit, barely anyone knows we do this.” he says.
“yeah um, jack said usually pilots did this, so we just came and tried our luck.” you almost stumble over the words.
“lovely family you have there,” he mentions, offhandedly to you, and you freeze, inadvertently in the same position jack was two hours ago, “good to know your husband looks out for your daughter, she loves planes.”
and she did love planes. that wasn’t the point. but that was the point, because charlie loved planes and jack showed her the cockpit, instead of just glaring at her for ruining his day with her mouth than ran a mile a minute.
you bite your lip. “thanks…c’mon peanut, we gotta start walking now.”
chicago is a big city, he worries about you getting lost in the crowd, worried about everything really. and so as you step off the plane, he holds out his hand for charlie to step over the steps easily, and to stomp onto the airbridge.
“charlie,” you gently say, kneeling down to her level, “peanut, we’re going to have to say goodbye to mr daniels now, okay? we need to get our bags and meet aunty ria, okay?”
her hands grip his tightly, and she pouts her lip, “but i want to stay with cowboy, he shows me planes!”
“charlie-bee,” you say softly again, trying to untangle her hand from his, “we gotta go, aunty ria made you that cake, remember? coconut just like you like?”
a pause, and his heart thuds in his chest. there is nobody quite like you, is this his last chance for redemption?
“are you still in chicago thursday evening?” he blurts out, far too loud for his own good. but you pause, and frown.
“…yeah, why?” you frown, “not free though, i got charlie with me.”
“i was wondering if you wanted to grab some…coffee.” he frowns at his own words, he’s never sounded this keen before.
he’s a older than you, not your usual type, with his crows feet and his greying hair, his soft arms and the cowboy tshirt. but have you even had a type every since your husband passed away?
“coffee would be nice, okay.” you smile, “do you want my number?”
“i’ll…i’ll write mine down sweetheart—“ he says it earnestly, looking for a pen or a napkin to scrawl his number onto. very old fashioned, perhaps a decade older than you, but you just laugh as as you tap your phone with his to get your contacts to be shared between each other.
“that was quicker, wasn’t it?”
“full of tricks.” he grins, and it’s true, you have bewitched him. and he smiles as he waves at both you and your daughter, and walks out to chicago, finally feeling like a new man.
taglist! for people who were interested...sorry this is 1 month and 3 days late...i blame [ gestures vaguely at everything but specifically the grandparents visit with no wifi and a 9 hour road trip and then a pile of undone physics worksheets ] i hope this taglist works. yayyyyy :
Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Reed struggles with your loss and tries to bring you back. Turns out, there are forces bigger than him that don’t like that. But they show him that, you and he are intertwined in many universes.
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.
Agent Whiskey is a tease. After ignoring him for a couple days, he finally pushes you over the edge and you push him into one of the Statesman's underground dorm rooms.
Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Male!Reader
Word count: 1˙610 words
Warnings: SMUT!, MDNI!, no use of Y/N but reader is "Agent Moonshine", established relationship, protected p in a, bot!Agent Whiskey, top!Reader, rim job/ ass eating/ tossing salad, no plot just pure smut
This fic is based on this anon request.
“Whiskey, get over here. We need to talk.” You pull the agent aside and lead him into one of the available dorm rooms in the Statesman's underground hideout.
“What do you need, Moonshine?” He follows you in with a big smile on his face, almost like a puppy. You lock the door to the room and set your high-tech glasses aside. You remove your jacket and throw it over a chair.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were starin’ during our meeting with Champ earlier.”
Whiskey chuckles. His innocent expression finally drops when he pulls you in for a quick kiss. You hug his waist, pressing your body against his.
“Good thing you did. I thought you’d ignore me forever,” he replies, groaning when you kiss his neck. You tug at the knot of his tie, loosening it further to move down his neck.
“It was an incredibly idiotic idea of yours to leave on that mission without me.” You pull back slightly to look him in the eyes. His smile has dropped – a sight you rarely get to see. There will be no response to your statement. You know this. But you just needed to say it loud and clear so he'd get it into that thick skull of his.
Then, his eyes dart to the side and his hands move to yours, which are still pressed against his lower back. You assume he wants you to take your hands off him, but when you attempt to pull them away, he firmly holds your wrists.
“No, put them right here,” he whispers while moving your hands to cup his rear. A slight reddish hue graces his cheeks when his eyes finally meet yours.
“… If this is what you want, I’m not one to deny you this pleasure.” You squeeze his cheeks and feel his body press harder against yours
“I've been eyeing you all day, you know”
“I know.”
“I even made sure you got a good look at my ass.”
“Mhm… And what a sight it was,” you whisper. He had been checking you out since you arrived at the Statesman base this morning. The manner in which his eyes would shift from your face to your crotch was nothing if not shameless. He'd even bite his lower lip when doing so. And then, when Ginger Ale left the room, he purposely dropped a pen in front of you…
You softly bite his lower lip and pull at it as he stands in front of you with his eyes closed. His mustache is rough against your lips. Locking lips, you let your tongue run over the edge of his teeth before slipping it deep into his mouth.
“Mmh,” he hums, taking a few steps back toward one of the many beds and guiding you. You stop before he can make you lie down.
“Wait. Not right away. There’s something I want to do first.” You get on your knees and hold onto Whiskey’s legs while maintaining eye contact with him. He swallows at the sight. The flask belt buckle reflects a blurry image of your face once your eyes dart down. You move your head forward and bite down on the cap of the bottle. You turn your head to begin unscrewing the flask.
The longer Whiskey watches you, the tighter his pants get. You successfully open the flask, spit out the cap, and wrap your lips around the opening. Your hands unbuckle the belt so you can tilt the bottle downward and allow the liquid to flow out into your mouth. Since the bottle is small, you drink the whiskey he stored inside in one gulp. It burns on its way down your throat, the smoky, woody taste spreading in your mouth. Whiskey audibly gulps along with you. He feels his mouth getting drier the longer he painfully waits for you to unzip his jeans.
Finally, you pull down his pants and underwear, revealing his erect, pulsing cock when you do. A smile spreads across your face as you turn him around.
“I’m gonna lie down. You can sit on my face.” You lie back on the bed, feeling your excitement grow.
Whiskey almost does as you tell him, but hesitates when he’s about to sit down. His ass hovers over your face, which allows you to spread his cheeks apart and get a good look at his twitching hole.
“Wow, you even waxed down here for me. I feel honored.”
“Don’t think I did this only for our time together, partner. You’re not that special, Moonshine,” he lies, trying to get back into his persona.
You chuckle and pull his hips down, finally getting him to take a seat on your face. With your face buried between his cheeks, you lick his anus, making sure to trace around the hole a few times. Whiskey gasps softly, his legs squeezing your head slightly. Your brain turns off entirely as you focus on the task at hand.
“Fuck… Moonshine.” He gasps loudly.
Hearing him call out your alias sends a shiver down your spine, and you moan softly as your tongue pushes in deeper. Your cock twitches in your jeans as you hum with pleasure. The blood rushes to your head. Whiskey rolls his hips lightly before falling face-first into your lap. His attempt to muffle a louder moan is futile.
He pushes himself up a little to free your erection. You reach around his legs and wrap your hand around his erect penis as you continue to eat him out. Your head is spinning from how intoxicating this all feels. That, and from the lack of oxygen reaching your brain. You groan from the attention Whiskey is giving your cock. This man always knows how to rile you up, and the fact that he just knows exactly how to do it is torturing you.
As your tongue pushes in and out of him, his hips push down further onto your head, almost crushing you. With a deep breath through your compressed nose, you let go of his cock and hold onto his thighs. Whiskey is a breathless mess by now, unable to keep giving you head since his entire focus is on how amazing you’re making him feel. That is, until he almost topples over the edge of an orgasm. With his legs shaking, he kneels up, giving you room to breathe, and then collapses forward onto your body.
“Fuck…” he pants, his thighs still trembling.
“Were you that close?” you tease, rubbing his bare skin.
“Oh, shut up,” he complains, rolling over to get off of you. You sit up and remove your dress shirt, pulling it over your head after unbuttoning a few buttons. Whiskey reaches into his pocket and takes out a condom. His hands are shaking as he rips it open. He’s still half-dressed, not even bothering to take his clothes off before rolling the latex onto your cock. Your breath catches in your throat from the downward movement. He straddles your lap and holds your cock upright to sink down onto it.
He goes down slowly, his hole tight. You exhale at the intense sensation, holding onto his arms and pushing your forehead against his chest. The fabric of his dress shirt carries the unmistakable scent of detergent blended with a hint of what could only be described as Whiskey himself.
“Make sure to ride me as hard as you can, cowboy.” Your quiet, panting words end with a soft moan. You're finally fully inside him, your dick throbbing to start fucking him. But Whiskey doesn't move just yet. His head lolls forward, almost kissing the top of your head.
“Ah… you bet I will,” he moans. You let go of his arms and rub up his thighs to grab onto his hips. This motivates him to start moving, making the bed squeak quietly.
“So good for me, Whiskey.” You cup his ass cheeks and spread them as he moves. His cock pokes out from under his shirt and bounces up and down as he rides you. You watch it for a while with lidded eyes and a heavy breath. His cock is beautiful. You’ve had enough time to inspect it thoroughly. You know what the veins running down its length feel like in your hand, how soft his skin is, and what he tastes like. The tip of his cock leaks like a faucet; the pre-cum drips onto the skin of your stomach.
“Deeper. Need you deeper…” he says breathlessly, still bouncing up and down. You push his hips further down onto your cock and stop him from moving as he lets out a louder moan.
“All you need to do, is get nice and low,” you whisper, feeling his hips move in circles. His cock twitches when he resumes fucking himself on your erection. You brush against his sweet spot deep inside. His mind goes blank with each deep thrust as you meet his bounces. It all quickly escalates: loud moans, deep kisses, and hasty touches push you both over the edge. Whiskey shakes in the aftershock of his orgasm, his semen covering your upper body.
When you leave the dorm room after cleaning up and throwing the condom in the bathroom trash, you check to see if anyone’s around before stepping out with Whiskey. His face is still flushed and his hair is messy. You both look like you just ran a marathon.
No one would have suspected you were ever in that room if you hadn't forgotten your glasses there. Ginger Ale is sure to tease you about it when she hands them to you.
Warnings: 1800s AU, domestic violence, threats of sexual assault, fainting, hatred, loss, death, wariness, protectiveness, talking to ghosts, flirting, discussions of sexual acts, innocence, loss of virginity, oral sex (male and female receiving), technical adultery, fighting, gun violence, fear of being hanged, marriage vows.
Comments: Escaping from your husband, you run onto Jack Daniel's land. Begging him to help you, keep you safe from the monster you had been married to. Jack hates your husband, so he takes you in. Teaching you that you can trust him because he will protect you.
Co-written by @storiesofthefandomlovers
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|| MasterList || Agent Whiskey MasterList ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
The sky is painted with red, orange, and pink. It's picturesque, and Jack adjusts his grip on the reins as he watches the sun set on another day. He's exhausted after working his land. The ranch that he paid for with coins he fought hard for. It's his sanctuary, and he is determined to maintain his peace. His horse huffs and he chuckles, patting his side, "don't worry, bud, we will get you fed." With a sigh, he prepares to go home just when he sees something running across his field. Wait...it's someone. Jack squints, back straightening until he sees it's a woman. Your screams hit his ears, and he immediately tightens his grip on the reins. "Help! Please! Help!" You scream, dress ripped and face bloody as you run towards him. He is on guard, glancing around to see if you're a distraction, but when you approach him, he sees the terror in your eyes. "What's wrong, girl?" He demands, his pistol on his hip and his fingers twitching with the urge to grab it. "Please. He's - he's trying to - help me." You sob and Jack nods, seeing the authenticity in your pleading. He reaches out towards you, offering you his hand, and you grab it. He swings you onto his horse behind him, kicking his side to gallop towards his home. You cling to him and he doesn't say anything until he stops outside his home. He swings his leg over and you look down at him when he stands and offers his hand to you. "You gonna sit on the horse all damn night, little lady?" He asks, raising his eyebrows. You shake your head and he helps you down, taking his horse over to the rail to tie him up until he can deal with him. "You gonna start tellin' me what the fuck is goin' on?" He asks, placing his hands on his hips as he looks at you until your eyes roll back. He barely manages to catch you before you hit the floor. "Goddamnit." He mutters, carrying you into his home.
The stone and log house isn’t as grand as some of the larger ranch houses around here, but it’s solid and warm. Jack kicks the door closed behind him and rushes to lay you down on the impractical sofa that his late wife had chosen for the parlor. He gently sets your head on the cushion and steps back, admiring your profile before deciding to get you some water and a rag to help you come back to your senses. “What the hell is happening over there?” Jack asks himself as he dips a clean cloth into the water bucket after pouring a glass of water. He knows the ranch that it seems like you had run from and he doesn’t like them at all. They push to graze their cattle on his land, something Jack and his cowboys have to be wary of.
You hear clanging and cursing and you wince, head throbbing as you struggle to open your eyes. You huff, sitting up slowly to look around and that’s when you begin to realize you are in a strange place. You gasp just as Jack walks out of the kitchen to see you sitting up. “Ah you’re awake, how you feelin’ sugar?”
The way you eye him warily, as if you don’t remember running to him for help has him chuckling. “You musta knocked your head good.” He shakes his head and ambles over, holding out the cup of cool water and the rag.
You don’t take the water from him, cautious as you watch him move across the room. “You don’t remember? I was ridin’ home and you came runnin’ towards me. Bout scared me and my horse but you begged for help so I brought you here and you collapsed. I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Can you remember what you were runnin’ from?” He asks, slowly kneeling down on one knee next to you.
He waits for you to answer but you refuse to say a word, making him frown slightly before he rubs his fingers over his mustache. “Name’s Jack Daniels.” He decides that maybe you just need some information on him. “Most call me Agent Whiskey, seein’ how I used to be a Federal Marshall that used to investigate bootlegged whiskey.” He smirks. “Never managed to find any.” He winks playfully at you before letting the easy smile slide off his face. “So you’re safe with me, sugar.”
You stare at him, wanting to believe him, but you’ve been in danger for so long it’s hard to kick the feeling that something is going to happen to you. He holds up the glass of water again and you tentatively reach out to take the cup from his hand. He nods and leans back a little. “You wanna tell me what you were runnin’ from?” He asks softly, not wanting to spook you again.
Deciding that your thirst was worth the risk of whatever he might have added to the water, you lift the cup to your lips, moaning at the wetness. “My- my husband.” You admit with a wince. “Judd Miller.”
Jack’s eyes widen, eyebrows raised at a name he knows too well. “You - he got married?” He asks and you nod, swallowing another gulp. “I was - I am from New York. My father arranged for my marriage to Judd without us ever meeting. I was sent here on the train and we married the first night I arrived but he - he’s a monster.” You finish in a whisper and Jack frowns, knowing what the man is like. “I’m sorry, sugar.” He murmurs, “why’d you run? What happened?”
****
“You get back here, you bitch!” You reach the stairs, heels pounding on the wood as you race for the front door. You need to get out of this house, away from Judd. Reaching for the knob, you fling the door open and race towards the porch, the hitch post where his horse is still waiting for him. “Hurry up!” You hiss to yourself, hands shaking when you unwrap the reins, only to drop them when there’s a crash from inside the house you had just slept in for one night before trying to flee. The horse bolts off, leaving your only option to try to escape on foot.
“Get back here, you fucking bitch.” Judd shouts as he runs out the door, tempted to get his shotgun but he wants you in one piece. Ain’t nobody wanna fuck a dead wife. He growls, stomping to run after you. “Come back ‘ere. I promise I’ll treat you good. Will even let you close your eyes. You don’t have to watch me fuck you.” He promises as he follows the path you took into the woods. “Come on honey. Don’t be shy. I just wanna take what’s mine.” He coos, stepping into the trees, listening to any noises of you nearby.
You don’t want to be his. Judd is disgusting, the blackness of his soul oozing out of his eyes as he had stared at you. You try to catch your breath, needing to keep quiet. Why did your father send you here? Why this man?
Judd grunts, checking behind a tree, and he growls when he doesn’t find you. “Come out, come out wherever you are, girl. Come ‘ere wife. I just wanna fulfill my husbandly duties.” He coos, his head turning when he hears a twig snap in two just in time to see you running. He growls, chasing after you, and he manages to grab your dress. Your scream echoes in the wood and he wraps his arm around you. His hand covering your mouth to smother your scream. You react immediately, biting down on his hand, and he yelps, “fuck!” His hand immediately smacks your face, stars flashing in your eyes and you swear you taste blood. His grip on you loosens and you take your chance. Stomping on his foot, you shove him back and try to run despite your head spinning.
“You bitch! You just wait until I get my hands on you!” His foot hurts too badly to immediately rush after you although he is certain he will catch you. There’s nowhere for you to go. Only that Daniels asshole to the east of here and Judd wasn’t concerned about him. “I’ll make you think twice before you run again!” He bellows. “You hear me girl! I’ll make you regret it!”
****
Jack clenches his jaw, his eyes on the gash on your forehead from Judd’s ring hitting your face, and he wants to grab his pistol and go kill the bastard. He inhales deeply when he sees you flinch at the look on his face. “Lemme take care of that cut.” He murmurs, reaching up to gently grip your chin. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He promises, touching you when you relax. He tilts your head, “let’s get you cleaned up. You hungry?” He asks, wondering if you want some of the stew he has cooking.
Your eyes widen, surprised that he is being so gentle, offering you food. “I-“ your stomach lets out an outrageous sound right as you start to refuse. Your cheeks start to burn and he chuckles softly. “As soon as I get you fixed up, I’ll grab you a bowl.” He promises, making you wonder why your parents couldn’t have chosen someone like this handsome, kind stranger rather than Judd. “Thank you.” You murmur softly.
Jack shifts to stand, grabbing his supplies from the kit he keeps. He lives alone so he has a lot of injuries he has to treat himself. He kneels beside you again, grabbing a piece of cotton to dab at the blood on your forehead. You’re even more beautiful up close and he tries to focus on helping you. That’s what you need from him. “You wanna tell me what New York is like? I’ve never been.” He asks, trying to distract you.
“It is almost indescribable.” You admit, voice hushed as you think back to your home. “Buildings that reach the sky. Every luxury you could want right at your fingertips. Electricity. No lamps. A toilet inside, and not a bucket. Libraries, all the books you could read just waiting for you to pick them up.” You sigh wistfully, hating that your personal trunk filled with books is now in Judd’s possession. He will probably burn them.
Jack sees the passion in your eyes and he smiles, glad to see some life return back to your form as he cleans your cut. "Sounds like a mighty fine place. I was born and raised in the west. I ain't been to a city like that." He confesses, "and for the record, I got books." He jerks his chin over to the shelf, smirking at you.
You’re a little embarrassed, afraid you insulted the man who saved you. “What kind of books do you like to read, Mr. Daniels?” You ask politely but his answer astonishes you. “Oh a little of everything. Medical journals and such, a little bit of philosophy, my late wife, rest her soul, enjoyed those scandalous dime novels the good ladies at the church have palpitations over.” He chuckles. “So I had to keep them. Kept me from having to turn down dinner every Sunday to be introduced to their daughters.
Your wide eyes make him chuckle and he watches your mouth open and close a couple of times. "I am sure you are a popular gentleman." You observe, not blind to see how handsome he is. He chuckles, shrugging one shoulder, "I do not desire a simpering woman who will not want to help me with our home. I do not desire a woman who cowers from the harsh realities of ranch life." He confesses, "and...and I have yet to meet anyone who could compare to my beautiful late wife."
Why couldn’t your father want this kind of man for you? “I don’t know the harsh realities of ranch life.” You admit softly, staring down at your soft, unmarked hands. “And your wife must have been beautiful.” You’re jealous, envious of a dead woman curling in your gut. It is because your ‘husband’ would never speak of you that way, never.
“She was.” He murmurs, lost in the memories of his wife. That tragic night she was taken from him so many years ago. You hiss when he presses too hard on the cut and he pulls his hand back, “sorry, little lady.” He reaches for the salve he keeps on hand for his own injuries and applies some to your wound. “There ya go. You’ll be shiny like a new penny in no time.” He promises, “now, let’s get you some grub.”
“Grub?” You frown at the word and Jack snorts. “Food, little lady.” He clarifies. “Stew. It’s venison, more meat than anything, but I never have time to plant a vegetable garden and I’m tired of beans.”
You listen to him ramble as you follow him through the house to the kitchen, the warmth of the space inviting, although it would be better if there was the scent of freshly baked bread.
He strides over to the stove, grabbing the spoon to stir the stew. “Sit yourself down. You only just woke up. I’ll get you a bowl and you can eat. You need your energy after your fall.” He grunts, reaching for a bowl so he can scoop some stew up. “Eat.” He demands, placing the bowl and a spoon down on the table in front of you.
He’s not fawning over you, but it’s probably the most cared for you’ve felt since you learned you would be coming to this place and marrying Judd. “Thank you.” You murmur softly. “Are you going to eat with me?” You ask, spooning up a bit of tender looking meat.
He nods, reaching for his own bowl. “I was comin’ home to eat this when you ran in front of me.” He snorts, spooning some stew into his bowl. He wastes no time sitting down opposite you, digging into his food with a grunt.
“So….” You take a sip and it’s a little saltier than you were expecting but it’s good. Hot and flavorful. “You live here all alone? No one else?” Jack chuckles. “Hands live in the bunkhouse.” He tells you. “They take their meals there, and they don’t often come up here for a social call.” He shrugs slightly. “Just me up here in the main house.”
He shovels the food into his mouth, eating like the food is going to disappear, and he sees you watching him. He swallows, shifting to sit up. “Sorry ma’am. It’s been a while since I had the honor of eatin’ dinner with a lady.” He explains, taking a smaller spoonful, making sure to take his time.
“Do not apologize.” You smile slightly as you take another sip of the soup. “Do all ranchers eat with such gusto?” You ask curiously. “I imagine it is taxing work.” Jack nods. “Best thing to come home to is a hot meal.” He tells you. “Even better when you don’t have to cook it.”
You nod in understanding. “I can imagine food is the first thing on your mind and you must be exhausted. I’m certain you’d prefer someone to cook for you.” You murmur and Jack nods, “yes. The ranch hands are always moanin’ about not havin’ a lady of the house to cook but I tell them to quit whinin’ and make a campfire.” He snorts, taking another spoonful of the stew.
You almost volunteer to cook for him right then, but your mother always cautioned you to not play your hand too early. Before she had died, she had been teaching you how to get around navigating in a man’s world. How to lead your husband to the happy home you wished for, although you know she would have never agreed for you to be married off to Judd. “Well, your stew is delicious.” You hum.
Jack is pleased with your compliment. He smiles, nodding his head, “why thank you kindly.” He watches you eat for a moment, the dainty nature of your posture, and he wonders how you ever ended up in the Wild West. “Tell me about yourself, sugar. What did you do back home?”
“Oh, um….” You look down at the soup and sigh. “I am afraid that my time was taken up by social calls and activities that were proper for a lady of my standing.” You roll your eyes. “When I was able to escape that, I spent time in the gardens and the kitchen with my father’s staff.”
Jack frowns at that. “That doesn’t sound like a fulfilled life. I ain’t really one for social anything. Prefer to keep to myself nowadays. Must’ve been exhausting. Unless - unless you like that sorta kind of course.” He adds hastily, “I’m sorry you were brought out here.”
“I can’t go back there.” You shudder and your shoulders round in worry. “He’s horrible and I know that he will - he wants-“ you bite your lip, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “We married yesterday and he was too drunk to-“
Jack clenches his jaw, glancing across to the window. He knows what kind of man Judd is. He shakes his head, “you don’t need to worry about that, sugar. Ole Jack will keep you safe. You ain’t going back to him if I’m alive and kicking. We will figure out how to get you back to New York before he figures out where you are.”
Your heart swells for a split second before you crash again. “I cannot go back to New York.” You admit with a heavy sigh. “My father would just put on the first train back to Judd.” You blink back tears and spoon up another sip of the soup.
Jack shifts to sit back in his seat, “your father would send you back to a man as vile as Judd?” He asks and your little nod breaks his heart. You look so defeated. “You’ll stay here then until we can figure out what you wanna do next. If you help me around the house, I’ll pay you coins that you can use for your journey and new life. Does that sound fair?” Jack asks, eyebrows raised. He’s not a rich man so he can’t just give you the coins but he wants to help you.
“That is-“ you choke up slightly, feeling safe for the first time in weeks, since you boarded the train to bring you to Judd. “Thank you.” You murmur softly, reaching out and touching his hand, even though that could be considered a breach in manners. “I will do whatever I need to help.” You promise.
Your soft hand touching his has his heart lurching in his chest and he suddenly struggles to swallow. He nods, watching you pull your hand back a moment later. "Happy to help, ma'am." He murmurs, "the fellas will be happy if you cook. They will worship the ground you walk on." He chuckles, taking another spoonful of stew.
“You said you had not planted a garden?” You ask, biting your lip. “Perhaps I could look at starting one? I love working in a garden.” Cooking might be a little more challenging, but you had spent plenty of time in the kitchen for the house. They had taught you well.
Jack nods, “that’ll be - I’d appreciate your green thumb. I kill any plant I touch.” He confesses with a chuckle, “and cooking? Anything that we ain’t gotta cook is good grub to us.” He promises, “tomorrow I’ll show you around the ranch. Judd doesn’t come out this way. He knows to stay off my land.” He promises, “and I’ll tell him I ain’t seen no woman if he approaches me and I’ll order the fellas to do the same.”
“Thank you.” You smile and hope that Judd doesn’t surprise Jack. From the way that Jack spoke, there’s been some issues between him and the other rancher. “I hope you don’t regret this.”
****
After dinner is cleaned up, Jack wipes his hands on his jeans, “I, uh, I will give you the bed. I can sleep on the floor or the couch.” He assures you despite knowing his back will be fucked for tomorrow. “My late wife…I still have her clothes. So you’ll have nightwear and something to wear each day. I think they’ll fit you.” He eyes you for a second and makes his way over to the stairs. “You’re welcome to follow.” He says when you remain still, and he stomps up the steps.
You shouldn’t trust Jack, but you don't have much of a choice. Getting to the stairs and then slowly climbing them, looking out over the living space as you climb. “I could sleep on your couch.” You offer. “That way I could get up early enough to make breakfast.”
Jack looks at you as you stand on the steps, “my mama, bless her soul, would beat me black and blue if I let a lady sleep on the couch while I had the bed. No, you’ll sleep in here. It’s upstairs too. You’ll be safer in case something happens. I’ll be right there by the door with my shotgun.” He promises, wanting you to feel safe.
"Alright, Jack." His colorful visual of what his mother would have done has you imagining a small woman scolding a younger Jack, perhaps pulling his ear. "If you insist." You will see if there is anywhere you can sleep that would give him his bed back. You finish climbing the stairs and join him on the landing.
He walks over to the set of drawers and opens the top one, reaching for a nightdress that his late wife would’ve worn and he holds it out towards you. “Here ya go, ma’am.” You take it and he shifts to make his way from the room. “Toilet is outside. You can wake me up if you need to go. If you want to go now, I can stand guard. There’s a sink and stuff over in the corner.” He points to the sink and shifts awkwardly, “so I’ll let you settle in.”
“I-“ you wince slightly, remembering that none of the houses around here have indoor toilets. “Thank you. I’ll make sure to go now before the sun sets.”
Jack nods, “let’s go, little lady.” He makes his way downstairs, grabbing his shotgun in case Judd or his men have somehow gotten brave enough to come to his home. You shiver when you walk outside and he stands guard, glancing around at the trees surrounding his home.
"The toilet isn't too far." You are grateful for that, wishing that you didn't feel so exposed. "Don't like stumbling around in the dark." Jack admits. "There's wolves out here, so don't come out without me or a gun." You choke back a laugh. "I don't know how to use a gun." You admit and he huffs. "I'll teach you. You need to know to live out here."
Jack stands guard while you do your business and he will take a piss outside once you’re fully situated. You make your way back inside and he locks the door to show you he’s serious about your safety. “Anything happens, you scream and I’ll be there to shoot the bastard.” He commands and you nod. He watches you make your way upstairs and he sets his gun in the corner, working on stripping down for the night. His boots by the door, his hand on the rack, and he grunts as he lays down on the couch. “Goddamn Mary, darlin’. I love you dearly but this fuckin’ couch.” He murmurs as he looks up at the ceiling. Reaching over to turn off the oil lamp and he sighs, wondering what he’s gonna do with you to get you away from Judd.
You are exhausted, feeling safe for the first time since you had been told you were getting married. Undressing doesn't take long and you are thankful that Jack's late wife had clothes that would work. Grateful for the pitcher of water in the wash stand as you pour it into the bowl and reach for the rag and the crock of soap. You had French milled soap in your trunks, now in Judd's house and you wish you could just get your things back. Slipping into the bed, you smell him, Jack. All over the sheets, the smell of man and leather seems to surround you. Making you sigh and close your eyes, wishing he wasn't so damn handsome.
****
Jack hears the footsteps on the stairs, and he turns his head to see you walking into the kitchen moments later. “Mornin’ ma’am. You like coffee? Got some brewing and some eggs I collected moments ago if you’re interested.” He nudges the eggs in the steel pan.
Your eyes are barely open and it seems like Jack has been awake for hours. You had gotten dressed in the darkness and assumed you would be the first one up. "Morning comes early on a ranch." You mumble, never one for early mornings. "I will get started on breakfast right away." You promise, knowing that you need to uphold your end of the bargain.
“All done, darlin’ but you could butter the toast.” He gestures to the table where the toast is already plated and butter next to it. “There’s jelly that I purchased from the ole gal in town.” He says, “and eggs are ready. Sit down.” He orders, sliding the eggs onto the plates before he carries them over to place them on the table.
"I- I am so sorry that I overslept." You stammer, rushing. over to help him but Jack waves you off towards and enamel cup. "Pour yourself some coffee, darlin'. I've got this." He assures you and it makes you feel guilty. "I'm always up early, so don't worry about me." He shrugs. "You slept hard last night. Probably the first good night's sleep in weeks."
You are surprised by his easy going nature. Your father would’ve reprimanded you for sleeping so late. A proper lady isn’t lazy, he’d said. Judd had you up early to prepare his hangover cure. Jack watches you pour some coffee and he sips his own cup, “I’ll always be up before you. Ain’t no use you risin’ so early when I gotta feed the animals first.”
"Then at least wake me up when you leave so I can have the coffee ready when you get back." You take a sip of the coffee and sigh blissfully. "I think today I should look over the supplies you have and perhaps go over what meals you would like to have." You offer. "And inspect the garden area?"
Jack wipes his mustache and nods, setting his coffee down. “Whatever you feel like, ma’am. I would suggest goin’ into town but I don’t want word of your whereabouts gettin’ back to Judd. I can go fetch supplies or get one of the boys to do it if you make a list.” He promises, reaching for his fork to begin eating his eggs.
“Thank you.” You bite your lip. “I wish I had some way of getting my things from Judd.” You sigh softly and then pick up the platter of eggs and start scooping them onto Jack’s plate. You should at least serve him since you didn’t cook. “But I will live without them.”
Jack hums, not wanting to make promises but there might be a way for him to retrieve your things. He has a contact on Judd’s land who owes him a favor. “What things did you bring with you?” He asks, wanting to make a mental list.
You sigh again, putting the plate of eggs down and putting some toast on the plate for him. “I had two trunks.” You admit. “One was filled with books and my clothes. The other was filled with things I had made with my mother.” You smile sadly. “I never even got to wear the wedding dress she made me.”
Jack makes a mental note to make sure this contact retrieves your things but he doesn’t let that show on his face as he digs into his eggs. He reminds himself to eat a little slower and he watches you as you put some jelly on the toast that’s a little stale but he hasn’t had a chance to get some bread from the lady in town. “I’m sure you woulda looked mighty pretty in that wedding dress.”
You fluster slightly and shoot him a small smile before taking a bite of your toast. “You are a flatterer as well as a white knight.” You tease. “Do the men eat lunch as well, or just dinner and breakfast here?” You ask, wanting to get into a routine as quickly as possible. Cooking for ranch hands sounds a lot better than being in Judd’s bed and being his wife.
Jack shakes his head, "mainly breakfast and dinner. We are usually far out heardin' cattle or dealin' with the fences so we grab something to eat from the land or we wait. Usually the smokes keep us goin'." He chuckles, "they ain't fussy either. They will eat what's given to 'em."
“Breakfast and dinner.” You agree, although you might have to have some cookies or something available for the men to have. “I think that I can manage that.” You smile and pick up your fork to eat a bite of eggs. “So you have chickens. And cattle. Do you have milk cows as well?”
He nods, looking up at you as he leans towards his plate, "yes ma'am. I usually get up to milk the cows and collect the eggs. Then I move on to other duties." He explains and shoves some egg into his mouth.
“I see.” You nod. “Then you will have to show me these chores and I will take them over.” Even if you’ve never milked a cow, you will learn. Your father had sent you to this place for god only knows what reason, but you won’t wither away.
Jack chuckles at the thought of you shoveling cow shit but he nods, "whatever you wanna do, ma'am. It's my way of life. I ain't lookin' to make you shovel cow shit but I would like a home cooked meal. Lord knows my mama didn't teach me to cook. I've had to figure it all out myself after my wife passed."
“Oh.” You press your lips together. “Then it is lucky you didn’t starve to death.” You tell him, trying not to laugh at the horrible meals that must have been normal for him to learn. “I have all of my favorite recipes from our cook.” You tell him proudly. “I would haunt the kitchen and she taught me everything she could.”
He smiles at your enthusiasm, "well, I look forward to trying her recipes made by your hands. You lemme know what you need and it's yours." He promises, finishing his plate and he picks up his coffee to down it. You are still eating and he reaches into his pocket for a smoke. "I better go meet the fellas. Let you get settled. If you need anything, you holler. There's a bell on the door that travels pretty darn far if you need me. If you're in trouble, scream and use the shotgun in the corner." He says seriously, "but you should be safe here. Ain't no way Judd would have the balls to cross into my land." He promises, lighting his cigarette before he stands up and reaches for his coat.
“Oh!” You stand up with him, making him huff and wave you to sit down. “Finish your breakfast darlin’.” He tells you, sliding his arms into the thick leather coat. You wonder if it’s cow leather or perhaps some kind of game. “I will.” You promise, sitting back down and feeling a little off kilter that this man would be so relaxed about chores. Judd had expected you to drop everything to attend to him. It was why your trunks were still untouched and unpacked, you hadn’t had time to do anything.
Jack watches you as you sit back down and he reaches up to take the cigarette from his lips. "See you later, sugar." He winks and makes his way to the back door, opening it and he shuts it behind him, wanting to make sure it's locked. He will come back to check on you later, make sure you are safe and none of Judd's cronies are sniffing around. He strides towards the stables, ready to work but his thoughts have been left at that kitchen table with you.
In the quiet of the house, the only sound is the fire in the stove, you finish your breakfast. Bringing the pans over to the dish tub. You are surprised to find the water pump inside, but that is a good thing. You are not naive, you know that the conveniences you had in New York aren’t available here, but your staff had taught you how to do things the older ways, a notion that now makes you wonder if they didn’t suspect your father would send you out west. You pump the water over the dishes and start scrubbing, humming to yourself as you watch through the windows to find men and horses in the pasture in front of the barn. Your first day here.
****
Jack removes his hat to wipe his brow, looking across the fields, and he turns to see Kieran, his ranch hand, riding up to him. "Hey boss. The fellas are hungry. Fencin' out east has been fixed." He reports and Jack nods, "let's get some grub. Little lady said she's makin' a stew." He says, "go get the others." He orders and Kieran nods, riding off to get the others and Jack begins to make his way home. He had told his hands about you, and warned them to not talk to anyone about you and to be respectful. When he steps into the house, he groans at the smell of the food, "evenin' ma'am." He removes his hat and boots, shrugging off his jacket to see you wearing his late wife's apron, standing there with flour on your cheek and he chuckles. "You have - uh - right there." He gestures to his cheek and you wipe your face but miss it. You try again and he takes pity on you, stepping closer and he carefully brings his hand up to gently wipe the flour from your face.
“Thank you.” You smile and bite your lip nervously. He’s such a broad and strong man, but his touch is gentle and kind. It makes your stomach flutter even though you know that he is still in love with his late wife. “I hope you don’t mind stew and biscuits.” You gesture towards the kitchen. “I also made cherry pie for dessert with the canned cherries you had in your larder.”
Jack is impressed especially since you claimed to have no experience in cooking. He hopes for your sake it tastes good but he will lie through his teeth if he needs to. The back door bangs open, a group of men working on removing their boots and hats and jackets while groaning at the smell of the food. "Fellas! Fellas!" Jack yells and the men freeze. "Mind your goddamn manners. There's a lady here. Take your boots off and come over to introduce yourself." He orders and the men nod, lining up to say hello.
You stifle a small laugh, finding it funny that Jack had cursed while telling the hands to mind their manners. Each man held their hats in their hands and were almost bashful as they introduced themselves to you. All respectful, you feel a pang of happiness to be here and you motion to the stove. “Please, there is more than enough and another pan of biscuits is in the oven.” You weren’t sure how hungry the men would be and you reasoned the biscuits could be saved for breakfast if they didn’t eat all of them tonight. “Cherry pie for dessert.”
The men all groan in delight and they are about to surround the stove when Jack whistles. "Ladies first." He reminds them and looks at you, "go get your plate. You cooked, you get first pick." He insists and the men stand there nodding. You bite your lip, about to protest, but Jack raises his eyebrows and you nod, grabbing your bowl to get some of the food you cooked.
You don’t serve yourself a lot, considering you had some toast for lunch. Jack huffs at you but you just smile and move to sit down at the table. “I have plenty.” You promise before motioning to them to start making their own plates. “There’s fresh coffee for the pie.”
Luckily the men had washed up in the outhouse before coming inside so their hands are clean as they scramble to grab their plates. Jack watched as you take your seat and the men join you one by one with their bowls, hunger painted on their faces. “Jack?” You call his name and he sees he’s the last one. He nods and plates his food, taking the seat the men left beside you and he ignores their glances. “Kieran, you wanna say grace?” He asks, knowing that while he may not believe in God after his wife and child were cruelly ripped from his life, some of the men are church goers and he wants to respect that.
You bow your head but your eyes are focused on Jack. He is looking down at his hands, obviously not praying and you wonder how long he had lived alone after losing his wife. The prayer is short and immediately, the men dig into the meal. Groaning at the first bites and clinking the spoons into the bowl for another hurried bite as they shovel it in.“Is it good?” You ask tentatively, hoping they are not just trying to swallow down their meal as quickly as possible because they are hungry.
The men all nod, making you giggle at their enthusiasm, and Jack sets his spoon down. “The fellas are happy to eat anything but you cook better than I can.” He says with sincerity. The men all nod again, “you’re a mighty fine cook, ma’am.” One of them says and the others all chime in with their own compliments. Before too long, they are digging into the pie and Jack chuckles, leaning in towards you, “like rabid dogs.” He has some cherry filling in his mustache and doesn’t notice.
You smirk and nod, taking a sip of your coffee. The men had insisted you take a small slice of the pie first before they dug in. Aware that they were going to eat every crumb. None of them had dessert recently. “Maybe that will change when I have a jar full of cookies around.” You hum.
The men’s eyes widen and they all nod eagerly, “fuck, I’d love that.” One of the men groans and Jack tuts, “mind your language boy.” He orders and the younger man nods, “sorry for cursin’ ma’am.”
You hum. “That’s alright.” You promise, assuring him and reaching out to pat the younger man’s hand. “I understand that you are not used to having a lady around. I don’t expect you to cater to my delicacies.” You tease, glancing over at Jack.
Jack clicks his tongue, “they need to learn. If any of ‘em wanna have a chance at gettin’ married they best be learnin’ now to watch their tongues.” He raises his eyebrows and the men all nod. The oldest man, older than Jack, chuckles his agreement. “Now, you’re gonna help the lady clean up and then be off to your beds. We got a long day tomorrow.” Jack says once the men have all finished eating.
You are surprised by that, but Jack chuckles as the hands immediately stand and start scraping plates - not that there was much on them - into the slop bucket and cleaning them in the dish tub. “You cooked, darlin’, you shouldn’t have to clean up after ‘em.” You hadn’t expected that, but you smile in gratitude. “Thank you, gentlemen.” You tell all of them. “Your future wives will appreciate this too.”
Jack watches before he cleans his own plates, leaving them on the side to dry, and he wipes his hands on the cloth as the men thank you. “I can’t wait to see what ya cook tomorrow.” The youngest one grins and Jack snorts, “lady needs a rest first. Now off with y’all.” He orders and the hands all thank you, gather their things, and soon it’s just you and Jack. “I’m gonna stoke the fire. You’re welcome to read, do whatever you want. You’ve earned your rest.” He insists, reaching for the stoker to liven up the fire.
“Thank you.” You seem to be saying that a lot since you’ve been here. “I might have looked through your shelf and chosen a book.” You admit with a smile.
Jack nods, “relax and read. I’ll get everything ready for the night.” He promises, knowing he will need to check the doors and windows, to make sure the house is secure. Jack soon sits down in his chair, grabbing his knife, and he continues whittling what he has been working on before you ran into his life. The silence between you is easy and he realizes he has been lonely and not even noticed it.
You had taken off the apron and had poured yourself another cup of coffee, fixing one for Jack as well when you settle down. He didn’t even notice when you set it by his elbow, busy with his knife and wood. Opening the dime novel, curious to see what is so scandalous about these books.
Jack looks up from his project, noticing your reading material, and he bites his lip to smother his smirk. He knows you’re innocent. Can tell in your demeanor. When your eyes widen, he chuckles softly, “interesting reading, sugar?” He asks, curious about your thoughts right now.
“Oh!” He startles you and the book snaps shut, your eyes wide as you feel your face burn. “I- I don’t know-“ you confess, although your body feels like you’ve climbed into the stove and your core aches. You’ve felt attraction before but this is that same feeling based on words. “I didn’t-“ you swallow harshly. “I didn’t know men did that.”
Jack smirks, looking back down at the knife in his hand, “I’d ask you to read it to me but that would be wildly inappropriate on my part.” He shakes his head, “whatever it is…yes we do.” He promises, not even winking as you fluster and grip the book.
“Y-you do?” You practically gasp at that and a small shiver races through your body as you imagine Jack doing that to you. “How do you know that you do it?” You whimper, leaning in slightly as you ask, afraid someone else might hear you even though no one else is in the house.
Jack looks up at you, tilting his head, "seeing how flustered you are I can only assume it's one of three things and yes, we do all three. One of them especially if you love your woman." He promises, "nothing like it." He murmurs, glancing over to the fireplace, remembering how his wife would react to his tongue on her clit.
You make a tiny squeak and close your eyes. Trying to stop yourself from picturing Jack between your thighs. “Oh.” You manage, setting the book down and reaching for your coffee with a trembling hand. “I did not know that.” You admit. “I was only married for one day and he- I mean- we didn’t-“ you bite your lip.
Jack snorts, "I highly doubt Judd would ever be willin' to do that for his lady. He's a selfish bastard. You made the right choice runnin' away." He promises, "and you didn't consummate the marriage...maybe you get it annulled when you get to where you're goin'."
“I don’t want to be his wife.” You agree. “I wouldn’t mind being a wife, just not his.” You snort, shaking your head. “The man is vile.” You lick your lips and lean forward again, curious now. “And doing that- it, it said something about doing it to you- I mean, a man?” You had caught whispers and giggles from the newly wed ladies you had been friends with, but none of them would tell you about it, saying that your husband would show you everything you needed to know. You hated that answer and you sense that Jack is only holding back because of your embarrassment.
Jack sets his knife down and turns to look at you. His face is serious as you look down at the book. “Look at me, darlin’.” He orders and your eyes meet his, “if you want me to stop, you tell me, ya hear?” He asks and you nod. He nods back and continues, “women absolutely do that to a man. Only if you want to. Everything in a marriage, in a relationship, is give and take. Boundaries. I ain’t gonna get my kicks for a woman who isn’t enjoying what we are doing as much as I am.” He assures you, “but not all men are like that. Some will take what they want without care. Some men, like Judd, don’t care about the women enjoying it. Do not give yourself to those men. You can judge it, you have already with Judd. Any man you’re with should worship you.” He raises his eyebrows, “and the intimacy becomes natural.”
You doubt that, but the way he speaks makes you envy his late wife. The way he talks, the warmth to his voice, has everything to do with her. “She was a lucky woman.” You murmur softly. “How long were you married? Before she died?” You want to ask how she died, but you don’t want to press.
Jack glances over at the pillow his late wife had made and he sighs, “she died about ten ago. We were childhood sweethearts. Married as soon as we could. We stayed with her mother until I earned enough money to buy the land. I built this house with my bare hands. We tried for a long time for a baby but we didn’t have any luck. We accepted that it wasn’t meant to be but then one day, she told me she was with child. I was overjoyed. We began to prepare our home for a new baby. Then one day-” He rubs his hands on his pants, “she went outside to fetch some eggs from the chickens. She was close to having the child, when a bullet hit her heart. Judd - he was hunting and - she was killed. Her and the babe.” He finishes softly, brought back to the moment he found her, blood pooling around her and her belly round with the babe.
“Oh God.” Your eyes start to water and you reach out to touch his shoulder. “Jack- I am so sorry.” You murmur softly, even though you had nothing to do with the events from ten years ago. His face is set, stoic, but his eyes show the sorrow and devastation he must still feel. “I wish that had never happened.”
“Me too.” He murmurs, not shrugging off your touch, “but she’s gone and I- I have been alone for so long. For the longest time I wanted revenge. I was consumed with it. I went to Judd’s house to kill him but he - he had all his men and I was prepared for a shootout but I heard my wife in my ear telling me to walk away. I walked away and I’ve been alone ever since.”
“I am grateful you listened.” You smile when he looks over at you. “You saved my life and you wouldn’t have been in that field if you had been buried next to your wife and baby.” You remind him. “Your hands wouldn’t have the jobs they have, you are not as alone as you think.”
Jack nods, knowing you’re right but he sometimes wonders how good it would’ve felt to put a bullet in Judd’s chest. “Tomorrow we will teach you how to shoot. You gotta know how to defend yourself out here while I’m gone.”
“Okay.” You nod, even though the conversation has veered off course from the original one. You know that he is worried about you and that makes you feel safer than you ever have. “In that case, maybe I need to go to bed.” You hum, putting a scrap of cloth in the book now that you’ve relocated the page and close it gently.
He nods, knowing you’ve had a long day and so has he. “You wanna use the outhouse before you go upstairs?” He asks and you nod, standing up. He guides you outside, shotgun in hand as he stands guard. Once you’re back inside, he locks the doors and makes sure the house is secure as you stand at the foot of the steps. “I’ll see ya in the mornin’ sugar.” He murmurs, hating how beautiful you look standing there in the lamplight. You ain’t staying and he wants you to be happy. “Good night, Jack.” You murmur and he nods, shifting to sit down as he works on removing his gun halter. That night when he’s laying on the couch, he swears he hears his wife say “it’s okay, Jack. You can love her.” He closes his eyes, imagining not being alone for the rest of his life.
The bed still smells like Jack and it makes you restless. Getting up and moving to the window, staring out over the pastures and wondering what it is like to live here year round. It’s beautiful in a primitive, wild way and you are stirred by it. The air is cleaner than in New York. You think about the book you had read and that same feeling builds inside you. “I don’t know if it’s right.” You whisper to the room, to the spirit of Jack’s wife. “But I’m taking care of him for you.”
****
“Now, you wanna make sure your fingers are only on the trigger when you are going to shoot. Otherwise you’re gonna shoot your ass off.” He shifts to stand behind you, adjusting your grip on the pistol. He’s teaching you how to shoot. Some cans on a log for targets and he hates how warm your body is against his and your sweet scent hitting his nostrils.
“I doubt that would happen.” You huff, but you make sure to keep your finger away from the worn smooth trigger. You are standing with your feet spread, wearing another one of Mary’s outfits and wishing that you weren’t so aware of how close he is pressed against you. “Aim.” He encourages you and you close one eye to aim for the can. “Breathe out and squeeze the trigger.” Jack hums and you pull back the trigger until the gun explodes in your hand and you yelp at the loud noise at the way it kicks in your hand.
Jack chuckles, knowing you’ve never shot a gun before so he grips your shoulder to keep you steady. “Try again. It ain’t gonna hurt you when you’re holdin’ it properly.” He promises, bringing his hands up to adjust your grip. “Lean into the kick back. Aim and breathe out while squeezin’ the trigger.” He orders, “try again.”
It’s so hard to concentrate when he’s breathing against your neck. His hands on your hip when he drops his hand from yours. “Steady.” He murmurs softly and you exhale softly before you squeeze the trigger again. This time the can flips off the wooden railing.
You cheer and Jack immediately keeps the gun pointed to the ground in case you wave it around. “I did it!” You grin and Jack feels like he’s been kicked in the guts, breath taken from him at how goddamn gorgeous you look when you’re happy. “You sure did sugar, let’s try again.” He orders, stepping back from you this time.
It takes you a few minutes to settle back down and aim at the next can. The next two shots are wild and Jack has to come back up to help refocus you. You take a deep breath and try one more time, hitting the can again and this time you don’t cheer, you just grin happily.
Jack smiles, happy that you are able to somewhat aim. "Good job, sugar. Just aim the gun at whatever asshole is there." He orders, "now, let's try the shotgun. That will take out anyone." He promises, wanting you to be comfortable enough with the weapons to protect yourself.
“I don’t know about that one.” You admit, eyes wide as Jack reaches for the weapon. “It looks deadly.” You make him snort out a laugh. “It’s supposed to.” He promises. “Fends off wolves and men.”
"Doesn't matter how bad your aim is, you'll kill a man." He promises, "and don't forget-" He reaches out to grip your chin so you look at him, "-it's your life or theirs. Ain't no room for mercy in these parts. Kill them without a second thought."
“Kill them.” You agree, although you know that you might hesitate depending on the situation. Jack’s eyes are boring into yours and you lick your lips. “I will Jack.” You promise after another moment.
He releases your chin and he nods, "good." It doesn't take long to position you for shooting the shotgun. "Now, the recoil is gonna be scary but relax and hold your frame." He orders, adjusting your posture.
You can feel him pressing against you but you don’t think much about it until you are pulling the trigger. The gun blasting back and if it weren’t for Jack, you would have fallen on your butt.
“Easy, girl.” He chuckles at your shocked reaction and he steadies you. “Try again. You’ll figure this out.” He promises, “you just need to focus.” He reminds you and he adjusts your form again, “just inhale and exhale.” He murmurs into your ear.
You shiver slightly but it’s not because you are cold. Holding the large weapon, you follow his orders and squeeze the trigger. “Oh my god!” You cry, the can is gone and you didn’t even drop the rifle. “I did it.”
He grins, pleased that you didn’t shy away and he squeezes your waist. “Good job, sugar.” He reaches for the shotgun, taking it from you as you grin and he nods, “now, you know what you’re doin’, I won’t worry so much when I’m out in the fields.”
“You don’t need to worry.” You promise but he just tuts. “Today I’m going to work on the garden.” You tell him. “So do I need to a keep a gun in my apron?”
Jack snorts, “not in your apron but nearby. I want you safe. You never know if Judd gets brave and comes to find you. I’ve heard he’s lookin’ for you. I gotta head into town tomorrow for supplies. I’ll find out what people know then.” He knows it’s too risky to take you with him. Someone could recognize you and tell Judd.
You nod, pulling the list he had you make out of your apron. “This is what I need.” You tell him, “if they have any penny candy, please get a bag.” You ask. “It’s good crushed up in cookies.”
Jack tucks the list into his jacket, nodding at you, and he knows you’ll have the guys wrapped around your finger if you bake them cookies. “You tryin’ to fatten up my boys?” He teases, “because they are all braggin’ about your cookin’ skills.”
“They would eat anything anyone put in front of them.” You snort, shaking your head. “But if I feed them cookies, they couldn’t possibly complain if I need help weeding the garden? Could they?” You ask the question innocently, but there is a conniving smirk on your face.
Jack chuckles, “I’m sure you’ll be orderin’ them around and they will do whatever you want as long as you keep cookin’ for them.” He promises, imagining how eager they would be for more cookies and desserts.
“Speaking of that.” You smile. “I better go make sure that the chickens are ready to put on the stove.” You are still cautious about not making enough, but so far everything has been perfect.
Jack watches you go, gun in hand, and he sighs, glancing at the cans you shot down. He prays you don’t have to use the guns at all. He hopes he can help you out of this goddamn town before it’s too late. Either because Judd finds you or you break down the walls he put up around his heart.
Coming out onto the porch hours later, you are about to ring the bell when you notice all the men waiting. Hands and faces washed, hats in hand, some are milling around the yard while others are out by your new weeded garden, obviously discussing where you will be planting. “Dinner is ready, gentlemen.” You smile. “Tonight is chicken and pastry.” It was one of your cook’s favorite meals to serve the staff since your father wouldn’t eat it, and you loved it. “With slices of spiced cake for dessert.”
They all groan in delight and Jack chuckles, knowing they’ve all been discussing all morning what the options could be for dinner. Jack didn’t ponder with them, knowing he had butchered the chicken that morning for you to use. The men all make their way inside to start serving themselves and Jack watches you as you sit down with your plate. You always serve yourself first. The men won’t allow anything else. Jack is soon sitting beside you, his leg knocking yours under the table as he eats, and he feels his stomach twist with emotion. Butterflies he hasn’t felt since Mary and that terrifies him. You are technically another man’s wife, he needs to push those feelings aside and bury them.
You had made two giant pots, and you are glad you did. Every man, including Jack, went back for big bowls of seconds. A couple of the younger guys even getting thirds. Then it was time for cake and coffee. You had learned the men loved saving the coffee for the dessert, finding it to make it feel like they were getting food from a restaurant. A rare occurrence for most of them. Thick slices of the cake were served and you wait to see what they think. Jack is the first one to groan, making your cheeks heat up because you are imagining him groaning over more than cake.
The other men quickly agree and despite eating so much for dinner, the cake is gone, not even a crumb left as they get up to clean the dishes. This is honestly the happiest you’ve ever been, feeling appreciated and useful instead of being bored to tears with gossip and luncheon dates with ladies you didn’t like. “I’m baking cookies tomorrow after you come back with the candy.” You promise.
Jack smiles, “they sure will love that.” He winks and stands up to wash his own plate. Once the dishes are dried, the men all come to say thank you and goodnight one by one. “Goodnight ma’am.” The last one bows his head after he puts on his hat and Jack ushers him out, knowing he’s got a little crush on you. “Finally.” He exhales, “time to relax.”
“Whittling is relaxing?” You ask, knowing that you should probably do some mending, you have noticed most of Jack’s clothes needing repair, but you want to read some more of the book. You had read another chapter while the cake was cooling, but it’s interesting and you need to know what happens next.
Jack chuckles, "well, there's other ways to relax but I won't mention them to a lady like yourself." He turns away from you and checks the door is locked until he makes his way over to his chair to pick up his knife and continue what he's been working on. He's nearly finished.
His words stick with you and intrigue you. Reading until he sits down again and then you stare at him. “It is relaxing?” You ask after a moment. “It seems so…physical.” You glance back down at the book. “How could you relax when it’s work?”
His eyes dip down to the book in your hand and he bites his cheek to stop his smirk. “It is work but it’s - it’s natural. It’s mind numbing and when it’s done right you’ll be melting after, mind empty except for how you feel. With the right person, it’s - it’s beyond words.”
“And how do you know that is the right person?” You demand, leaning in and your eyes flicker down to his lips before your cheeks heat up again and you have to look away. “I just- this is all so new to me. The freedom of asking is unreal.”
“You’ll know. You’ll feel it in your heart.” He promises, “it’s like nothing made sense until you met that person.” He murmurs, frowning when he realizes that he felt that way when he met Mary and now he feels that way when he thinks about you but he would never admit it.
You chew on your lip, frowning slightly because you know you’ve felt that way since you woke up on Jack’s uncomfortable couch. “I see.” You look back down at the book, sighing softly. “That’s what you had with your wife?” You already know the answer but your heart drops when he nods. “I hope that one day I have that.” You swallow. “But I fear it is not in my fortune.”
Jack frowns as he looks over at you, “that ain’t true. You’re a beautiful woman. You’ll have men fallin’ at your feet. Hell, half the fellas here would marry you tomorrow if they didn’t all insist that I-” He cuts himself off and glances at the worn rug beneath his feet. “Once we get you out of Judd’s grip, you’ll be free to love how you want.”
You frown, wondering what he was going to say. “I can’t even imagine that.” You admit softly. “Although….I am finding out that ranch life is preferable to the city.” You look outside at the last fading rays of light and smile. “It’s so peaceful here.”
“It is.” He murmurs, looking out of the window and his breath catches at how the setting sun makes you shimmer. He goes back to whittling and you continue reading. Soon, he’s completed what he was making and he softly says your name, “I made you something.” He holds out the small piece of wood that he shaped like an angel. That’s what he considers you.
“Jack-“ you are speechless as you take the small carving, looking down at the delicate wings and the smoothness of what was once a rough piece of wood. “It’s- it’s beautiful.” You don’t think about how it’s completely inappropriate, you get up and lean over him to kiss his cheek.
Jack inhales deeply at the way his skin tingles from your kiss. He turns to look at you, his cheeks a little flushed, “you’re welcome, darlin’. It’s, uh, it’s you. You’re my angel. Sent by Mary to help rescue me from my loneliness and anger.” He confesses, “I cannot thank you enough for giving me my life back.”
“Jack-“ you swallow harshly and for a moment, you are about to ask him. Your resolve fails you and you smile softly. “You saved my life.” You remind him. “It’s only fitting I help you with yours.” You don’t know what he means by giving him his life back, but you feel proud that you could help him in even some small way.
He stares at you, leaning a little closer, and he swallows harshly. “You’re - I can help you get on the train to Chicago. It’s not going to be an easy trip but you’ll be safe there. I have enough coins if that’s what you want to do. If not, I can help you get somewhere else.”
“I don’t want to go to Chicago.” You admit, breathlessly. His brow furrows, confused and you lick your lips. “I- I don’t want to go anywhere.” You have fallen in love with the ranch and everyone on it. Some more than others.
He frowns, confused at your confession and when you go to turn your head, he reaches out to cup your cheek. He doesn’t think. He just acts. He leans in to press his lips to yours. It’s wrong, you’re married and he’s older, and he shouldn’t be kissing you but he can’t help it.
You make a soft sound of surprise before you melt into his arms. The soft brush of his mustache doesn’t take away from the skill of his kiss. You’ve only been kissed by one other man and Judd’s kiss had made you feel disgusted. Jack’s kiss lights a fire in your belly and makes you moan softly when he pulls you closer.
Your response has his heart pounding in his chest and he slides his tongue into your mouth, taking advantage of your gasp when he nibbles your lower lip. His hand slides along your neck and he groans into your mouth, loving how you lean into him.
You feel deliciously wanton, but you don’t pull away. You press closer, your hands gripping his arms before they slide around his back. His tongue touches yours, making you groan again and you tentatively reach out with your own to see what it feels like.
He loves how eager you are. He slides his tongue against yours, devouring you, and he knows in the back of his mind that this is wrong but he wants you. He has since you started cooking for him. He kisses along your neck, “tell me to stop. I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Don’t.” You beg, closing your eyes because you know it’s wrong, but you want him to show you those things you’ve read about. “I don’t want you to stop.” You shouldn’t be so free with yourself, but Jack is the only man who has ever heard you, really listened or cared about what you had to say. If anyone could show you how intimacy should be, it’s him. Even if he can’t love you.
Jack groans at your words until suddenly he pulls back. Your eyes flutter open, brow furrowing and he immediately stands up. Backing away from you, he doesn’t say a word as he strides to the front door and unlocks it after grabbing his boots. After shoving them on, he walks out into the night, shutting the door behind him. He turns back to look at the house for a moment until he walks off into the night.
Humiliation washes over you, making your entire body burn. He had told you that he was loyal to his wife and yet you had hoped that he would touch you. That he would show you a fraction of what a relationship between a man and a woman could be. Only to have him push you away. You rush to grab the book off the table and bolt for the stairs, ready to hide away for the night. Hoping he’s not going to tell you that you need to leave tomorrow. “What have I done?” You murmur hopelessly.
Jack walks for a while, pacing is more accurate, and he looks up at the stars. “Mary, darlin’, talk to me. She’s technically married and I- I swore I’d be faithful to you and our child.” He chokes, knowing he can’t just forget the woman he loves. The wind blows and he shivers, glancing at the trees that shake. He swears he hears Mary’s voice in his ear, curling around him in the breeze. “Be happy.” He chokes and looks up at the stars, nodding. He rolls his shoulders, deciding to make his way back to the house. He barely manages to take off his boots before he walks into the house, slamming the door behind him, and he stomps up the stairs to find you in the bed. “Jack?” You gasp at his sudden appearance and he kneels on the edge of the bed, cupping your cheeks to press his lips to yours.
You gasp into the kiss, Jack taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth again but you push him back this time. Breathing heavily and looking at him in confusion. “I don’t understand.” You huff. “You-“ Jack takes your hand and brings it to his lips. “I was tanglin’ with myself, darlin’.” He admits. “You’re a married woman and I’ve never been one to mess with a married woman, but I want you.” He declares. “You need to tell me what you want, because if I touch you, it will change everything.” Your eyes are steady, searching his face as you battle your own emotions. “I am married in the eyes of Montana.” You murmur quietly. “Not in the eyes of God.”
He doesn’t hesitate this time, surging forward to press his lips to yours. His tongue immediately slides into your mouth and you moan, causing his cock to stir in his jeans. He isn’t aching enough to squeeze himself and he groans, kissing along your neck as his hand slides along your side until he’s gently squeezing your breast in his hand. “So fuckin’ pretty.” He murmurs into your skin, nipping your pulse.
Your eyes widen and then slide closed as you let him touch you like no one else ever has. Not even Judd, you had run from him before he could. You trust Jack, giving yourself to him easily. Your heart pounds and you whimper when he bites your collar bone gently.
He kisses your collarbone and palms your breast, using his other hand to shift the covers from your body. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous, darlin’.” He murmurs and slips the strap of your nightgown from your shoulder so he can kiss the skin there. He repeats the move with the other strap and the nightdress falls to your waist. He leans back, wanting to look at your breasts and you inhale deeply. “Fuck.” He whispers, cupping your breast, and when you moan, he surges down to wrap his lips around your nipple.
You cry out, but it’s not in pain. It’s pleasure that is swimming through your veins and making your core ache so swiftly that you press your thighs together to try to ease the need. “Jack!” Your hand comes up to his head and your fingers tangle into his hair. To pull him away, to press him closer, you don’t know. Your nipples are hard, begging for more as you whine.
Your cry has his cock pushing against the zipper of his jeans but he ignores that, loving how you tug on his hair and he groans around your nipples when you tug again. He switches to your other breast, wanting to worship you like you deserve.
Your chest is heaving and your eyes are fluttering behind your lids. It feels so foreign and yet it’s wonderful. “Jack.” You whimper softly. “I need-“ you don’t know what you need, but you need more of him.
He knows what you need. Certain that you are dripping into the sheet beneath you, and he releases your breast so he can gather the nightdress in his hands that’s bunched around your waist. He slowly lifts it up, exposing your flesh to his hungry eyes and soon you are naked in front of him. “Lord almighty. You are - you are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He murmurs, caressing your leg. “Lay down for me, sugar.” He orders and you are clearly nervous but there’s excitement on your face as you shift to lay down, head on your pillow. He shifts too, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans for some relief before he lays down on the bed and slowly pushes your thighs apart to expose your cunt to his hungry gaze. “Goddamn.” He mutters, inhaling the musky scent of your arousal as he leans closer to press soft kisses to your thighs.
He had said that men do this, but you had secretly that he was teasing you. Trembling slightly as you inhale sharply, your eyes fixed on the ruggedly handsome man between your legs. He’s devilish, smirking and winking at you before the flick of his tongue touches the most intimate part of your entire being. “Jack!”
He groans at your taste, tangy and slightly sweet. His hand grips your thigh, spreading you open even more, and his tongue slides through your folds, slowly sampling you. You look equally shocked and pleasured, making him chuckle into your cunt.
When you can move, your head falls back, staring up at the beams above you. “Oh God.” You moan softly. “I thought you were making fun of me.” You admit breathlessly. “This is- I’ve never felt anything like it.”
He pulls back for a second, “I’d never make fun of you, sugar.” He promises, groaning as he laps at you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he resumes devouring you.
“Jack-“ you choke out his name, fingers trailing down your body hesitantly. You’ve explored yourself in the dark. Always with a sense of shame and never under your nightgown but now you run your fingers over your nipples, still wet from his mouth. “What do I do?” You beg, needing to know if he needs you to do something, to participate.
"Nothin' to do, darlin' unless you wanna pinch your nipple." He orders softly, murmuring your name before he dives back into your cunt. He loves how good you taste and he desperately wants to see you fall apart for him, he needs to hear it.
It’s like he’s given you an order. Your hands, almost to his hair, drift back up to your breasts. You feel positively wicked as you touch them, hesitating for a second before you pinch the stiff, sensitive skin, making you moan as pleasure shoots through you.
He groans, cock aching in his pants and he unconsciously grinds into the sheets as you pleasure yourself. You look gorgeous and he knows he’s the devil seducing you when you are heaven sent to his door. He should leave your innocence intact but he wants you and he wants to be selfish for once.
“It- it feels so good.” You whimper, repeating the action and feeling it deep inside your womb, making another rush of heat spread. Jack flicks his tongue and laps at you like he is licking up a sticky syrup, pulling scandalous sounds out of you easily.
Jack loves how you are reacting, acting so wanton despite not knowing what you are doing. You moan his name and he groans into your flesh, his fingers trailing along your thigh until his digits find your entrance, gathering up the arousal pooling there while he sucks your clit into his mouth.
You should stop him when you feel the pressure of his fingers slowly start to break you open, but you don’t. Too busy marveling over how good the pressure on your mons feels and arching up into the cup of your hand. “Jack- I- it’s so- I don’t know-“ you gasp out, needing something, feeling your body racing towards it but you can’t put it into words.
He knows you’re close, your whines and whimpers making him suck a little harder on your clit, and he slowly pushes his finger into you. Fuck, you’re so tight. He knows he’s done the right thing when you immediately cry out, clamping down onto his digit and he swears he could cum right then and there himself.
You feel like you’re drowning. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls over you. Stars bursting in your eyes and humming through your entire body. Unable to believe how blissful you feel all because of his hands and mouth. “Jack, Jack, Jack.” His name is a chant and you swear it’s the only word you know.
He loves how you fall apart for him. The way your body shakes and your cunt clenches as you chant his name. It’s almost too much but he shifts and works you through it until you start to wiggle. He pulls back, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs after he slowly pulls his finger away from your flesh.
“Kiss me.” You beg softly, wanting to see if he tastes different with your juices on his lips. Reaching down, you stroke his shoulder and encourage him to come to you. “Please Jack.”
How can he deny you? He nods, shifting up your body until he is pressing his lips to yours. He is intoxicated by you already, sliding his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself from his lips.
You moan again. A needy, wanton sound that you barely even recognize coming from yourself. Pulling him closer to gasp in delight at the feel of his flannel shirt rubbing against your breasts.
He doesn’t push for more. You are innocent and he doesn’t want to take what doesn’t belong to him. He kisses you, shifting his mouth to press kisses along your jaw, “sugar, you gotta tell me what you want.” He orders, “cos I’ll head downstairs if you are done.” He promises, “I ain’t gonna be mad if that’s all you want from me.”
You love how he’s not trying to pressure you. Truly giving you a choice. You feel the hardness against your hip and you know that he wants you. You feel desirable and Jack doesn’t treat you like an object. “Show me what it feels like to give yourself to someone.” You demand breathlessly.
Your words have his heart pounding in his chest, his throat tightening as he kisses along your neck and you slide your fingers through his hair. He grunts when he feels you tug and he shifts to his haunches, fingers fumbling as he works on unbuttoning his shirt. He can feel your eyes on him, chest heaving as you watch him. He loves it. His cock is aching and after he shrugs off his shirt, he reaches for his pants. Your fingers twitch but he doesn’t let you take over, fingers fumbling to fully unbutton his pants until he’s pulling his cock free.
You’ve never seen a man before, not like this. Your eyes widen as you stare at the hard cock that is jutting up proudly and bouncing as he kicks his pants off. “Will it fit?” You gasp.
Jack almost chuckles at your question but he nods, “don’t worry, darlin’, it’ll fit.” He promises, “I just need to open you up a little more.” He slides his hand along your thigh, his fingers slipping through your folds.
You don’t know what he means, but you trust him. You whimper when he rubs his fingers against your clit. “That feels so good.” You admit. “But I ache.” It’s hard to describe, but he grins, knowing what you need even if you don’t. “I’ll take care of you.” He promises and you believe him. Jack has never lied to you, always taken care of you in the near month you have lived under his roof.
Jack slowly pushes his finger into you, loving how tight you feel around his digit, and when you moan softly, he decides to work another finger into you. He’s thick so you need to be stretched out for him, he can’t just slide into you.
His lips press against yours again as he starts to push his fingers in and out of your body. Making you gasp as he chuckles and his tongue slides against yours. It feels so different from the way he had touched you when his mouth was on you, but your hips rock down to push his fingers deeper inside you. Moaning when he curls them up.
Your moan has him groaning into your mouth, loving the way you are reacting to his touch. He wants to hear more from you so he pulls his lips back and watches you as he scissors his fingers for a moment, twisting his wrist until he can press his thumb to your clit.
Your fingers fly to his arm, gripping his bicep and holding firm to it while you cry out at the flash of pleasure. “Jack! Please, please…” you babble, eyes closed and breathing heavily as that now familiar feeling bubbles in your core and races through you.
He knows what you want even if you don’t and he works his fingers into you, curling them a little deeper, and your thighs shake around his wrist, making him smirk. “Cum for me, sugar.” He orders, “wanna see you fall apart on my fingers.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss your jaw.
You whimper again, enjoying his attention and now he focuses on you. You had heard that some men just selfishly focus on their own pleasure, but not him. You feel cherished and almost loved as he pumps his fingers into you and murmurs encouragement into your jaw. Telling you how good you are doing got him and he’s going to show you the stars when you cum for him.
He groans your name when you clamp down on his fingers. "That's it, darlin'." He murmurs, scissoring his fingers inside you as your nails dig into his forearm. He loves it. Fuck, he's throbbing but he focuses on you, knowing that you are giving him your innocence. "You want me inside ya, sugar?" He murmurs, wanting you to be sure.
“Yes.” You whine softly. “Jack, take me. Show me what it feels like to be a woman.” You beg, wanting to know everything you can about why women giggle and whisper behind their hands about their husbands.
He nods, watching you as he shifts to kneel between your legs. His eyes watching your expression. He desperately wants you to enjoy this. He swallows harshly as he grips his cock, shuffling closer until the head is sliding through your folds. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.” He murmurs, watching you as you grip the sheets until your hands find his arms. “You ready?” He asks and when you nod, he slowly starts to push into you.
It’s surreal, the feeling completely foreign. He’s large as he pushes into you, but it doesn’t hurt. Not until he’s so deep inside you that he feels like he’s all the way in. “I’m sorry darlin’.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to yours and kissing away your confused frown before he snaps his hips forward and making you cry out as he breaks through your innocence.
He presses kisses all over your skin, needing to take the pain away from you. He doesn’t want to hurt you. “You’re beautiful. So goddamn beautiful.” He murmurs, caressing your side as he gives you a moment to adjust to him.
The sharp pain gives way to just a small discomfort and the feeling of being full. He coos at you softly, assuring you that it will be alright and you believe him. Finally starting to squirm under his weight, wanting to move and feel that wondrous feeling like when his fingers were inside you. “Jack.”
Your whimper of his name has his hips jerking and he braces for your cry of pain but when you moan, he smirks and slowly pulls his hips back. It doesn’t take long for him to push back into you, especially when your thighs squeeze his hips. “Feel so damn good, sugar.” He grunts, kissing along your jaw.
“I feel…..full.” You admit breathlessly. “You’re so deep inside me.” You stroke his arms and then his back. “Put your legs around me.” Jack orders softly, making you gasp out as the angle changes and he feels even deeper.
He loves how you react, your nails digging into his back but he fucking loves it. “That’s it darlin’. Let ole Jack take care of you.” He orders, starts to move slowly, watching the micro expressions on your face as he starts to fuck you.
That’s what he’s doing. He’s taking care of you. You moan softly when he pushes back inside you. It feels incredible. He starts building a pace that is starting to steal your breath as he moves. “More.” You beg after long minutes, rolling your hips up.
He kisses along your jaw, pressing his lips to yours when you gasp and he takes the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth. He shifts his weight onto one forearm, his free hand slides along your side until he’s squeezing your breast.
You feel completely boneless and powerful all at the same time. Jack makes you feel like you are flying. He absorbs your whimpers, swallowing it down. Eyes closing as he makes you feel like you’re beautiful and loved.
He loves how reactive you are, the way you gasp as he pinches your nipple. Your walls clench around him and he groans into your mouth, kissing your chin. “So fuckin’ beautiful, sugar. Feel so goddamn good. Like an angel.” He murmurs against your skin.
“I don’t think an angel would do this.” You gasp out, shuddering in pleasure and your walls clench down around his cock. You love how he groans your name, it sounds so filthy dripping from his lips.
He chuckles softly, “I’d beg to differ.” He murmurs and grabs your thigh, pushing it back towards you and you cry out at the new angle. He loves it. You’re so fucking pliable and you are moaning his name. He shivers, muscles bunching, and he wants to feel you cum on his cock.
The pace sharpens, the thrusts deeper and your back arches slightly every time he hits the end of you. Making you shiver and shake as his hair brushes over your mons and propels you that much closer to that edge of bliss you now crave. “Jack, baby- I - I-“ you wail when he punches deep and grinds his cock inside, pleasure racing through you as you shake apart underneath him.
He groans when you clamp down on his cock, your cry echoing in the bedroom, and he fucking loves it. He can’t hold back and Jack is a man who would’ve prided himself on his stamina when he was married but it’s been too long. He growls as he pulls himself free of your fluttering cunt, fingers gripping his length and frantically pumping until hot spurts of cum paint your belly.
You watch, panting as you try to catch your breath. He was protecting you from a possible pregnancy, you know enough about sex to understand that, but you feel a little disappointed that you aren’t getting the full experience. Instead of saying something, you reach out and stroke his hip.
He pants, eyes closed until he works up the strength to open them. His dark eyes burn into yours, murmuring your name. “Shit, sugar. Ain’t you perfect?” He asks softly, a rhetorical question that makes you fluster.
You look up at him, his body slumped in total relaxation and your fingers touch the now cooling pearlescent liquid on your stomach. “Was it good for you?” You ask, knowing that you loved how he made you feel, but you are eager to know if he was pleased.
He cups your cheek, stroking your skin, “it was perfect.” He promises, reaching for his shirt to wipe your skin clean, and he shifts back to look down at you. “Do you want me - I can go back to the couch.” He suggests, unsure of what you want from him.
“Stay.” You reach for him, taking his arm as if he might pull away. “Please?” You add softly. You want him in the bed next to you, especially after such a monumental moment for you. “I- I don’t want you to go back to the couch.”
Jack can’t deny you anything. He nods and reaches out to caress your hip. He shifts to lay down on the bed beside you, pulling you close so you can lay on his chest. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead, “how you feelin’, sugar?”
“Tired.” You admit with a small giggle. “Incredible. I want to do that again. And again.” You twist your head and look up at him. “Does that make me a whore?”
Jack shifts his head to look at you, making sure you’re looking in his eyes, “absolutely not. You are human.” He promises, “and I - I want to do that again with you. I haven’t - it’s been - a while.” He finishes, caressing your cheek. “I will touch you however you want.”
“The way you just did is perfect.” You sigh happily as you lean into his hand. “I had hoped to have a man who treated me with respect, and you have done more than that.” Your fingers trace over an old scar and you lay back down on his chest. “I think there’s no better man alive than you, Jack.”
He wants to protest but he knows that will ruin the moment so he kisses your hair and sighs, “I think God has the final judgement there, sweetheart.” He snorts and caresses your side as you lean against him. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep and Jack remains awake, watching you sleep and wondering what the hell happens next.
****
You are alone when you wake up, something that doesn’t disappoint you too much as you feel across the empty bed. Life on a ranch must go on, it cannot wait for a woman to daydream about the night before. Getting up, you quickly wash in the surprisingly warm water in the pitcher and hide your own embarrassment over the pink tint to the water after cleaning away the remnants of your innocence from between your thighs. Dressing, you make the bed and rush downstairs to get started on breakfast for the men.
Jack finishes feeding the chickens and is making his way back to the house with a basket of eggs, enjoying the quietness of the early morning. You’ll be awake by now and he wonders if you regret last night. His mind keeps replaying the look on your face when you came, how goddamn beautiful you look. He can’t keep you though. Even if he’s claimed you. You’re not his wife. You’re not his and he doesn’t want to trap you when you never wanted to leave the city. He pulls off his boots on the porch, exposing his socks that have holes in them, and none of the others are here yet but he smells the coffee. Stepping into the house, he finds you in the kitchen with an apron tied around your waist. “Mornin’ darlin’.” He greets you, not coming over to touch you just yet, “got the eggs.”
“Good morning, Jack.” You feel your entire body heat up, feeling as nervous and giddy as a debutant at her coming out party. “Thank you, we are having pancakes - flapjacks - for breakfast.” You correct yourself, having some of the hand tease you last Sunday for saying it the ‘fancy’ way. “Coffee is ready.” You motion over to the pot and hope that he comes closer and kisses you before the men arrive. “Today I was planning on doing some washing and mending.” You look down at his sock with a smile. “If you will give those to me tonight, they will be fixed before you go to bed.”
Jack smiles, reaching out to touch your waist, “you’re too good to me, sugar.” He murmurs, grabbing your wrist gently to take the whisk from your hand. He sets it down on the counter and tugs you closer. Letting go of your wrist, he cups your cheek and slowly leans in until his lips press against yours.
Relieved that he is not pulling away, you completely melt into his arms. Winding your own around his neck, you moan softly into the kiss, your walls clenching around nothing when he slides his tongue into your mouth again. This feels right, it feels like home, like Jack is where you are supposed to be - who you are supposed to be with.
He pulls you closer, loving how you melt into him, and he slides his tongue against yours. Your soft moan has his cock twitching in his pants, and he pulls back after a few moments to nudge his nose against yours. “Goddamn.” He murmurs and you giggle, resting your forehead against his chest. He chuckles and kisses your hair while caressing your back. He hears the boys before he sees them and he lets go of you, taking a step back, and he winks just as the men come clambering in the door.
You bite your lip and turn back to the counter. “Flapjacks for breakfast, gentlemen.” You announce, making all of them cheer as they crowd around the coffee pot. It doesn’t take long to get all of them fed and they eat a lot. Making you smile at Jack as the scrap of forks clink against the tin plates that Jack told you were sturdier than any China. You believe it. Delicate things wouldn’t last out here and you are happy that you aren’t as delicate as you had once imagined. After they leave for the cattle, you set a roast on, wanting to make dinner special before you check your garden and then drag out the wash tub where it is kept in the lean to and build the fire outside to warm water to wash clothes.
****
Jack groans as he sits down, the men have left, fed and watered for the evening, and Jack watches you as you get a start on mending his clothes. "You happy here?" He asks after a moment, knowing you discussed you leaving as soon as he could get you a ticket back east.
You look up for a moment to smile at him before refocusing on mending his shirt. It’s been washed and dried on the line out in the yard, smelling like sunshine and grass. Another scent you associate with Jack’s musky smell. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” You admit, almost to yourself. “I- I can’t explain it. But I love working in the garden, cooking. Even mending your shirt.” You laugh at yourself. “My father thought that sending me to the west was a punishment, and it might have been if I was at Judd’s ranch, but here…..” you sigh. “I feel like I’m home.”
Jack's heart flutters at your words and he loves it. He nods, a soft smile on his face, and he watches you continue to sew his shirt. "I feel like my house is finally a home again." He confesses, "you've made me feel alive again. You've brought me back to life, sugar."
Your own heart flips and you feel your cheeks heat up. “You were very lively last night.” You tease, giggling as you tie off the last thread from the first repair on his shirt. One more little rip and this one will be as good as new. “I can only hope that you are happy to have me here.” You admit. “I don’t want to be a burden to you.”
Jack shakes his head, "you ain't a burden. You're - you're heaven sent." He promises, "and I want - I was lively last night and I want you again tonight. If you want me." He adds, not wanting to assume.
You set down his shirt and look up at him again. “May I finish mending your shirt first?” You ask, smiling in jest as you nod. “I want more of you.” You agree. “As much as you will give me. I have- I have thought about it all day.” You confess. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”
Jack smirks, heart fluttering at your words, and he rubs his hands on his thighs, “me neither.” He confesses, “could’ve sworn I was tastin’ you on my lips throughout the day.” You fluster and he chuckles, “I’m yours if you want me, darlin’. However you want me.”
His words make you shiver and you nod. “Anyway I can have you Jack.” You know that a traditional future isn’t in the cards for you. You are technically married to another man and Jack’s heart lies with his late wife and child. If you just warm his bed for now that is what you will do.
Your words warm him, knowing you aren’t asking for more than he can give you but he wants to give you everything. His late wife is still on his mind but the whispered words in the wind are echoing and he wonders if she would forgive him for falling in love with you. “Finish your sewin’. I’ll be here.” He promises with a wink, picking up his knife to continue whittling some wood.
The two of you settle into a comfortable silence. You finish the shirt and set it aside to iron, picking up the socks you had promised to darn. He has quite a few pairs that had holes in them, making you wonder who he had fixing his clothes before you showed up. Once they are all fixed so he has something to wear tomorrow, you put away your basket and stand, “I am going to get ready for bed.” You tell Jack softly. “Come up when you are ready.”
He nods, knowing you need some time to get ready and he watches you as you make your way up the stairs. “Take your time.” He says before you disappear and he sets his knife down, unable to concentrate on whittling now that he knows you are waiting for him. He clears his throat, standing up and brushing himself down.
You change into your nightgown and wash quickly, biting your lip as you tuck the blankets down on the bed. Wondering if you should just be naked and in the bed. You decide that’s better and slip off the nightgown and get under the covers. Last night you had slept naked with Jack, so it’s not like he would be surprised.
Jack slowly makes his way upstairs, the wood creaking under his bare feet, and he’s already shirtless since you’ve been fixing his clothes and washing them. He stands in the doorway in his jeans, fingers in the loops, and he offers you a soft smirk when he sees your bare shoulders. “Have I told you how fuckin’ beautiful you look?” He asks softly as he steps into the room .
You prop up on your elbows and watch him in the lamplight. “I vaguely remember something about it last night.” You admit. “But have I told you how handsome you are?” You pose. “You are a woman’s fantasy. Straight from those dime novels and into my bed. Rugged, handsome, kind…” You sit up and the sheets fall from your breasts. “Perfect.”
Jack’s eyes darken as they drift down to your breasts, taking in the ethereal sight that is you in his bed. He steps closer until he can kneel on the bed. “I ain’t perfect, sweetheart, but I sure am lookin’ at it right now.” He murmurs, surging forward to take your nipple into his mouth. Your cry makes him harden in his jeans and he switches to the other breast, biting down until he can kiss up your sternum. Your moan has him smirking against your skin between kisses until his lips press against yours.
Jack seems determined to make you see stars. He hovers over you, watching you as he draws the sheets down to completely expose your body. “Jack.” You whimper softly. “I want to touch you.”
“You can touch me however you want, sweetheart.” He murmurs against your chin, his hand caressing your side, and he trails his fingers down until he is cupping your mound. “You’re already wet. What have you been thinkin’ about?” He asks, a smirk on his lips.
“You touching me.” You admit breathlessly. “How you made me feel. Wondering if I could make you feel the same way.” You shiver, but your own fingers reach for the button on his jeans.
He chuckles, sliding his hand lower so his fingers are wet from your arousal. Caressing your folds until he slides his fingers through them. Your whimper has him aching in his pants and he presses his finger against your clit, slowly rubbing the bundle of nerves.
His buttons are difficult, but he continues to drive you mad as you try to undo them. “Jack.” You whine. “I want to touch you.” You beg, making him chuckle again.
Jack grunts when you finally manage to get his jeans undone, your fingers wrapping around his cock. “Fuck, sugar. You’re touchin’ me. You can do what you want.” He promises, rubbing your clit a little faster.
You love how his cock contrasts between hard and soft. There is a hardness that is covered in velvety soft skin. You squeeze him and giggle when he chokes out your name.
Your touch is innocent and soft but fuck, he loves it. He pants, rocking unconsciously into your hand, “fuck, sugar. Take what you want.” He orders, groaning your name again while he slides his fingers lower to push two inside you.
You lick your lips, wondering if he would react the same way that you reacted. Lunging forward pushes his fingers deeper inside you but you don’t moan as you touch your tongue to his cock.
Jack chokes on his breath when you take him into your mouth. He never expected it, and his chest heaves as he looks down at you. He withdraws his fingers, watching you as you look at him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ.” He hisses, “you don’t - it’s - fuck. You feel so goddamn good.”
You hum softly, not letting go of him as your tongue rolls around his cock. Tasting him the way he tasted you. Loving how he groans and chokes, you swallow and his knees buckle.
He groans your name again, watching you as you innocently discover what it’s like to have a man’s cock in your mouth. You seem to enjoy it and that makes him twitch, reaching down to caress your cheek with wet fingers.
He seems to really like this so you take your time. Your hand slowly strokes the lower part of his cock as you take him deeper. You don’t know what you are doing, just responding to his sounds. Wanting to make him feel good too.
“You like this, darlin’?” He asks, voice raspy with arousal as he watches you with dumbstruck eyes. You moan around him and he twitches in your touch, “fuck. You’re doin’ so good. You’re takin’ what you want and it’s yours.”
You feel powerful and you slide out of the bed to your knees in front of him. It’s almost as if you are praying, but this is not a conversation with God. This is something much more carnal, wicked, although you would never ask for forgiveness for this. Not when Jack is looking down at you like you hung the moon.
You have his chest heaving and he knows that you are enjoying this. It’s something he’s imagined when he has thought of you but he never expected to see you on your knees for him. You take him deeper and when you choke, “careful, darlin’.” He warns, “don’t hurt yourself.”
You pull back and swallow, feeling him twitching on your tongue from the pressure. Looking up at him as you slowly take him deeper again and swallowing. Jack groans loudly as his hips rock forward, his hand caressing your cheek and then moving to the back of your head. You are dripping onto the wooden floor but you let him guide you, showing you what to do.
He guides you, working you on his cock, and he groans when you swallow around him. “Fuck.” He breathes out, watching you as you take his cock like you’ve been doing it every night since you ran into him. “Sweetheart. I don’t - lemme touch you. I don’t want- not like this.” He chokes when you hollow your cheeks.
“You don’t want to finish?” You ask innocently after you pull off his length, your spit dripping down your chin. “No, sweetheart, I want to make you feel good.” You take his hand and stand up. “I feel like I’m on fire.” You admit softly. “Wetter. It made me ache when I was touching you.”
Jack smirks, a little smug that he makes you feel like that. “Fuck. You’re so goddamn perfect, sugar. C’mere.” He orders, grabbing your ass to pull you into his lap, his hands immediately sliding along your back. He pulls you closer, pressing his lips to yours, and he immediately slides his tongue into your mouth.
You’ve never sat on a man’s lap before, especially the way that Jack had guided your thighs around his waist. Leaving your core exposed and pressed against his hardness. You gasp, instinctively rolling your hips against him, writhing on his lap.
Jack loves how you gasp, so innocent yet so unashamedly wanton in your desire. His hands finds your ass, helping you to grind down onto his cock and he wants more from you. "Come on sweetheart. You wanna ride this ol’ cowboy?" He asks, leaning in to kiss your jaw.
“How do I do that?” You ask, eyes wide at the prospect of riding. “Is it like being on a horse?” You have ridden a horse, you are an excellent rider but you never thought about riding a man.
Jack chuckles, nodding, "it's similar. You gotta move your hips, however it feels good. I can guide you." He promises, reaching down to grip his cock and he positions himself at your entrance so you can sink down onto him.
You don’t know who moans louder, you or Jack. The way he feels inside makes him feel even bigger. Taking your breath away and the burn of his cock because of being slightly sore gives way to the pleasure. “Oh God.” You whine. “I want, I want to feel this all the time.”
Jack groans at your words, "whenever you want, I'm yours." He promises, "you're so fuckin' gorgeous." He leans in to kiss along your jaw and his hands squeeze your hips, giving you a moment until he helps to guide you rocking on his cock.
It’s slow starting, he doesn’t try to rush you. It’s a good thing, since he’s so thick and deep inside you. Your walls clench down around him every time you sink back down and your whimpers get louder as he pushes against something wonderful inside you.
"Take your time, sugar." He murmurs, caressing your back, "you're so fuckin' perfect." He coos, "takin' me like this. Keep goin'. Take what you want." He rambles slightly, kissing your neck until he cups your breast, tilting it so he can take your nipple into his mouth.
This is sinful, how good it feels. But you don’t stop, you never want to stop. Your tits shake as you start to ride him a little fast, holding on and your fingers twist into the longer curls at the nap of his neck. “Jack. Fuck.” You curse breathlessly. “You feel so good. So deep. Like you are buried inside me.”
He loves how you are gaining confidence, taking what you want from him, and he desperately wants to see you cum again for him. It’s all he’s been able to think about all day. “Fuck, that’s it. Lookin’ like you’ve been ridin’ my cock every damn night. Fuck.” He murmurs, biting down on your breast, wanting to leave a mark under the skin.
You gasp out his name, hips jerking and you start to bounce faster. Loving how rough he is with you. His hands gripping tighter and tighter until he lets go. You were going to protest when you felt a sharp slap on your ass, making you squeal. “Again, fuck, Jack.” You cry. “Do that again.”
Jack chuckles at how desperate you sound and he repeats the action, wanting to hear you moan his name again. You are frantically rocking on top of him so he grabs your hips, adjusting the pace so you can find that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes.
His grip of your hips makes you shout his name. So loudly that you think the men in the bunkhouse behind the barn can hear you. It feels incredible and you clamp down around his cock when he thrusts up into you, shaking apart in his arms.
He pulls back to watch you as you cum for him. Fuck, he loves it. He groans your name and twitches inside you but he’s not done yet. He pants and shifts, laying you down on the bed so he can hover over you. His cock still inside you, he caresses your cheek, and watches until you open your eyes. That’s when he starts to move again, rocking slowly into you.
“Jack.” You whimper his name, mouth dropping open as he starts to move. He’s looking down at you so tenderly you could cry and it makes your heart pound. You’re falling in love with Jack. You know you are. “More.” You beg, hands stroking his sides and arms as he rocks deeper. “I want everything.”
He grunts, knowing he can be a little harder this time. He groans your name, surging to kiss you and sliding his tongue into your mouth without hesitation. His hand grips your thigh, lifting it higher so he can push deeper into your cunt.
You kiss him back, giving yourself over to him as he takes control. So good at breaking you apart and making you unravel. Your moans and whines are breathed into him, Jack greedily swallowing your sounds as his hips snap forward with a singular determination
He pants your name, kissing along your jaw, and he pushes deep, needing to know you’re with him. He needs to know that you are in his bed and not leaving him yet. He doesn’t know how he’d survive losing you but he would let you go if he had to. Even if it killed him.
Your hand dives into his hair, holding tight as your leg winds around his hip. Pulling him closer as you rock your own hips up to meet his thrusts. “So good. You feel so good.” You praise, eyes fluttering closed as he pushes in and out of you. “I need you.”
Hearing you claim that you need him has him groaning your name and he hisses when your walls flutter. He knows you’re close. “Fuck.” He hisses, “you’re so fucking good.” He declares between kisses to your neck.
You whimper, making all the sounds that seemingly drive him crazy. “I want- I want to see you cum.” You tell him. “I love the way you looked when you finished.” You aren’t brave enough to ask him to finish inside you, you know he won’t because you aren’t his.
He nods, needing you to fall apart for him one more time. “Gotta look after you first, sweetheart.” He murmurs, reaching down to snake his hand between you, finding your clit. He rubs soft circles, loving how you cry out, “that’s it, sugar. Cum for me. Wanna feel you squeezin’ me.”
You can never say that Jack is a selfish man. He is too interested in making sure that you are taken care of. Your chest heaves and you watch him touch you as his cock sides in and out of your body. “I’m- I’m so close.” You whine softly, only to cry out a second later when your walls clamp down around him, soaking him as you shatter.
He groans, loving how you clench down around him. You look wrecked and he loves it. "That's it, darlin'." He pants, pulling free of your cunt and before he can grip his cock, you are wrapping your fingers around him to start pumping him. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkk." He chokes, cock twitching as he cums in your grip, hot seed spurting onto your belly and tits.
You watch him, obsessed with the way that his jaw tightens and his lips twist in pleasure. Humming softly as he pants. “I think you are so beautiful.” You murmur.
Jack smiles, heart fluttering as you look up at him like he's your moon and stars. He leans in, uncaring of his seed drying on your skin, so he can softly kiss you. "You clearly ain't looked in a mirror because you are the beauty of the house."
You reach out and cup his cheek. “Thank you.” You whisper. He might think you are thanking him for the compliment, but you are thanking him for giving you the life you have right now. He has truly saved your life.
****
Jack narrows his eyes as he looks up at the sky, the sun is shining as spring graces his ranch with wildflowers. He will pick some to take back to you, even with the fellas ribbing him for being a sap. He doesn’t care. He wants to be a sap for you. You’ve brought him back to life after grieving Mary for so many years. He knows she’d want him to be happy. He gathers some flowers, tying them with some string, and he is making his way back to the house when he hears your scream. Tossing the flowers, he grips the reins and kicks his horse’s side, galloping to find you, praying he isn’t too late.
“You fuckin’ whore!” You scream when Judd strikes you again, your cheek exploding with pain. Still you fight, struggling to get away from him. You had assumed the horse trotting up behind you was one of the men as you had knelt down, pulling the weeds from the two small crosses that were nestled under the tree. Mary and the baby’s grave. “Let me go!” You cry out, your wrists hurting because Judd has such a tight grip on them. If you could just get to the gun in your apron pocket. “Jack!” You scream, praying he is nearby.
His heart is pounding as he gallops until he finds you struggling against Judd Miller under the tree where his wife and child are buried. Jack wastes no time swinging off his horse, not even coming to a stop as he hits the ground running to run into Judd. He growls as he slams into him, pushing him to the ground and away from you.
You gasp, heart pounding and you stumble back from the two men fighting on the ground. “Jack!” You reach into your pocket, fumbling for the gun and bringing it out, hands shaking.
Jack pulls his hand back, fist clenched as he punches Judd. "You motherfucker! You stole my fuckin' wife!" Judd growls, headbutting Jack who grunts, stumbling back. You fumble, trying to pull the trigger, as Jack punches Judd again. Bang! You finally shoot the gun and Jack stumbles back, eyes wide. You choke, watching him with blood splattered over his face until Judd's body drops to the ground.
“I - he was-“ you drop the gun on the ground and rush over to Jack. “I thought he was going to kill me.” You stammer. “Or you. I couldn’t let him- I love you.” You are touching him, checking him to make sure that he’s not injured. “I couldn’t let him-“
Jack is shocked, looking down at Judd’s bleeding body. His eyes trail back to you, and he doesn’t think, he just acts. He cups your cheek, surging forward to press his lips to yours. “I love you. I love you.” He chokes out between hurried kisses to your lips.
You start to cry, relief mostly, but also happiness that he feels the same way that you do. Your arms wind around his waist and you sigh softly when his frantic kisses ease. “Thank you.” You whisper. “I didn’t know it was Judd. I thought you had ridden up to visit with Mary.”
He cups your cheek, eyes darkening at the cut on your cheek from Judd’s ring. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. That bastard - he must’ve been ridin’ along the fence and saw ya.” Mary’s grave is on the edge of the property and he should’ve told you to stay away from there but he didn’t think Judd would be looking for you. “Fuck. Are you okay?” He asks, looking you over for any other injuries.
“I’m fine.” Your cheek hurts but it would have been so much worse. You swallow harshly. “Am I going to be arrested?” You ask quietly. “I killed a man.” You’ve heard of murders being hung, towns making it a party as they watch them swing. “I killed my husband.” You choke out.
Jack caresses your back, trying to calm you down. "I ain't gonna let you take the blame. I'll tell the sheriff that I killed him." He reassures you, "you ain't gonna be arrested." He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead.
“No.” You shake your head. “I won’t let you do that. He was- he was telling me what he was going to do to me when he got me back to his ranch.” Your eyes fill with tears again. “It was- I would wish for death when he got done with me.”
Jack tightens his grip on you, jaw clenching, and he exhales through his nose as he tries to control himself. “Bastard.” He growls, “he will never touch you again.” He promises, “the sheriff knows who he is.” He murmurs, “I shall ride into town. Go home. Lock the doors. I’ll be back soon.”
You nod quickly, eyes flickering over to Judd’s body and you shudder to think what would have happened if Jack hadn’t heard you scream. “I’ll- coffee will be ready for you and the sheriff.” You promise, knowing that you will be too jittery to sit still. You will probably start making cookies and pies for the men since dinner is already started.
Jack nods, leaning to kiss you softly before he pulls back. Your horse is still tied up so he swings his leg over his horse, galloping off to see the sheriff. “Judd’s what?” The sheriff asks, eyes wide in shock. “He’s dead.” Jack repeats, “he tried to attack his wife. She - she ran onto my land and told me he tried to take her with force the day after their wedding. She’s been stayin’ with me.” He explains and the sheriff’s eyebrows lift beneath his hat. “And you’ve taken her as your own?” He guesses from the way Jack is acting. “I love her.” He confesses, “we both know Judd was a monster. He would’ve killed her like the last one. She did all of us a favor.” He snorts and the sheriff’s nods, knowing he’d be happy to have Judd off his back even if he will miss the coins.
“Guess I should go speak to her.” He sighs, dropping his boots off his desk and groans as he grabs his hat. “You plannin’ on marrying her?” He asks. “Judd’s ranch is nice little piece and she’s gonna get it. He didn’t have no family.”
Jack didn’t even think of that. Didn’t even care about obtaining more land but it would be yours to decide what you want to do with it. By proxy, Jack would own it as your husband but it would always be yours. “Goddamn.” Jack murmurs, knowing that Judd has gold stashed on his land too. He was a mean bastard. The sheriff and Jack ride back to his ranch, finding you in the kitchen. “Darlin’.” He calls out, knowing you must be distracted as you mix something in a bowl.
You yelp, not even hearing Jack come in. Whirling around, you press a hand to your chest. “Jack.” You whimper in relief before noticing the man standing next to Jack with a shiny star pinned to his chest. “Sheriff.” You had met the man when he had married you and Judd as soon as you stepped off the train. A pathetic little ceremony in the office in full view of the cells where drunkards and thieves slept. “I- I was making cookies for the men, in case…..” you trail off and look back at the table where nearly a dozen pies were sitting as they cooled. “Could I get you some coffee?” You ask the sheriff, aware he might have some questions.
The sheriff nods and Jack gestures for him to sit down at the table which he obliges, taking a seat next to Jack. “So little lady, you wanna tell me what happened?” He tilts his head after setting his hat down on the table.
You pour two cups of coffee and bring them over to the table before going back to get plates and a knife. If they are having coffee, they might as well have a slice of pie. “I was at Mary and the baby’s graves, visiting and pulling weeds.” You were asking her to forgive you for falling in love with her husband, but the sheriff doesn’t need to know that. “When I heard a horse, I thought it was Jack, so I didn’t turn around. Before I knew it, I was being pulled to my feet and slapped, Judd was screaming horrible things at me, hitting me.”
The sheriff knows about Judd, how he’s treated women in the past. Hell, he was there the day the man shot Mary. He nods softly, knowing that no one would miss Judd, not even his own ranch hands. “Well…it sounds to me like you acted in self defense. Something that isn’t punishable by the law. You were his wife. You now inherit his land and you are his widow. No longer married in the eyes of the Lord.” He explains and Jack’s eyes widen at the realization. He looks at you, scrambling to stand up, “marry me.” He demands, “right now. I wanna marry you. Want you to be mine officially.”
You are startled, gasping as he reaches for your hand. “Jack-“ you choke out. “What about Mary?” You ask but he shakes his head. “I’ll love her forever, but she’s gone, baby. She’s not here and I’ve-“ he pulls you closer. “I’ve fallen in love with you. You are my future, my happiness.” He coos. “Marry me?” He asks again, softly this time and you melt. Looking over to the sheriff, you ask, “can you marry us now, or do we have to wait?”
The sheriff chuckles, nodding as he stands up, the chair scraping. “You can be married now in the eyes of the Lord. You wanna do this here?” He asks, looking around and Jack looks towards you. “Here or the garden?” You smile, “the garden.” Jack nods, taking your hand to guide you outside. He doesn’t have a ring but he can get you one, wanting you to have everything. You’ve saved him. He takes your hands, standing beside the garden you’ve been cultivating, and the sheriff puts his hand on his head, reaching into his jacket for his bible.
You are nervous, squeezing his hand as he stands beside you. Tall and steady, making sure that you are taken care of. You trust Jack completely, knowing that he won't be like Judd, he wouldn't make you afraid for your very life. "I love you." You murmur softly, looking over at him with a surety that makes you proud to marry Jack.
Jack winks at you as the sheriff begins to explain what marriage is. Jack looks at the sheriff, "we are both widows. Can we skip to the vows so I can kiss my wife?" He asks and the sheriff snorts while you giggle. "Do you, Jack Jameson Daniels, take this woman to be your wife?" He asks and Jack smiles, squeezing your hand, "I do." The sheriff asks you the same question and you nod, "I do." He sighs and shuts his bible, "then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your-" He doesn't get to finish before Jack is surging forward to press his lips to yours.
You giggle against his lips, kissing him back and throwing your arms around him while he spins you around. Feeling happy and lighthearted. You are a married woman again, this time to a man who you love that you want to be with. You won’t be running from him.
“I’ll register Judd’s death and then register the marriage.” The sheriff declares, “now don’t be shootin’ anyone else, sweetheart.” He orders you and you lean into Jack’s chest. “I promise.” You grin and Jack squeezes your waist, “now git so I can make love to my beautiful bride.” Your newly minted husband orders the other man who chuckles and tilts his head. “Have fun kids.” He makes his way to his horse, making a note to have his deputy come collect Judd’s body later. Jack surges forward to kiss you again, groaning into your mouth, and he ducks down to wrap his arm around your knees, lifting you into his arms.
You squeal, then throw your head back and laugh as Jack turns towards the house and carries you. “Jack!” You wrap your arms around his neck and smile. “I can walk.”
He grins, "not over the threshold. It's bad luck and we ain't needing any more of that shit." He declares and you giggle, clinging to him, and he kicks the door open. He carries you into the house and sets you down, his hands sliding along your body.
"Does this mean you will.....finish inside me?" You ask, biting your lip as you look into his eyes. "I- I want to feel my husband inside me as he cums."
Jack nods, cock hardening in his pants at the thought of filling you up with his cum. He loves how eager you look and he kicks the door shut, taking your hand so he can escort you up the stairs. Your baking is abandoned as he focuses on you, his wife. When you’re upstairs, he turns you around so he can slowly start to unlace your dress. Leaning down, he presses kisses to your neck, “so goddamn beautiful.”
“You are just being sweet to me because I married you.” You tease, practically glowing because you are now Mrs. Daniels. Tilting your head so he can have more access to you, it’s tortuously sweet and yet it feels like your dress is falling off your body in a second.
When your dress falls, his hands immediately cup your tits, gently squeezing them in his palms, and he groans as he kisses more of your skin. His impatience wins out as he spins you so he can duck down and take your nipple into his mouth.
You whine, eyes closed as your fingers bury into his hair. You know that he will make sure that you are breathless and satisfied by the time you are finished but this time is special. This is sealing the vows that you just made to each other. “Husband.” You whimper. “Please.”
Jack hasn’t been addressed as husband for so long but hearing you say it has his heart pounding in his chest. “Fuck.” He murmurs against your skin, shifting to kiss down your stomach until he is kneeling before you. You’ve brought him back to life and he desperately needs to show you that, to worship you. He groans your name, shifting to lift your leg onto his shoulder, and he groans when your scent hits his nose.
You know he wants to put his mouth on you again, making you shudder at the thought. He loves it and you are grateful that his pleasure is so tied to your own. He isn’t greedy or selfish with his touch. “Jack.” The first touch of his tongue has you pitching up off the bed, hips lifting to his mouth. “God!”
He smirks against your folds, loving how you moan, and he eagerly laps at you. Your tangy taste is one he can sample for the rest of his life. “Fuck.” He grunts as he pulls back, using his thumbs to spread your folds before he dives in with a groan.
He drives you out of your mind. Licking and sucking, teasing you with the curl of his tongue against your sensitive flesh. You know that it’s positively wicked but you don’t care, it feels amazing. Pulling moans out of you every time he flicks his tongue against your clit. “Oh God, I can’t-“ you gasp out. “I’m gonna-“ you keen, feeling stars burst behind your eyes and you shake apart for him.
It’s the quickest you’ve fallen apart for him and he thinks it’s a combination of his love for you and the fact that you belong to him. He loves how you cry his name as he laps at you, working you through it, and his cock is throbbing with need for you. “Lemme be inside ya, sugar.” He rasps, shifting to his haunches to work on unbuttoning his shirt.
“Yes.” You lunge up, helping your husband undress, wanting to see and feel his strong body. He had cleaned Judd’s blood off his face at some point, so you lean in to press kisses along his jaw, nipping the skin.
He grunts when he pushes his shirt off his shoulders and your hands fumble with his belt until finally you wrap your fingers around his hard cock. “Fuck. Let me-” He chokes, shuffling and nearly falling forward as he pushes his pants down, kicking them off. He shifts to hover over you, his hand caressing your side, “my beautiful wife.”
“Make love to me, Jack.” You demand. “I’m already yours but I want you to erase the fear.” You reach for his shoulder to pull him closer. “I was so afraid when Judd found me. Afraid I would never see you again. Afraid that you would think I had just left you.”
He nods, gripping his cock to position himself at your entrance. His dark eyes meet yours as he slowly starts to push into you. He groans your name, kissing along your neck as he stretches you out.
“You feel so good. So big inside me.” You moan softly. You don’t mention his name, but Judd’s cock had been something small, pathetic when he had pulled it out that day you fled. You couldn’t imagine feeling like you do right now with him. “Like you are so deep inside me I don’t know where you begin and I end.”
Jack loves hearing you talk like this. He groans, “that’s right. Only I can make you feel like this. Only cock you’re gonna have is mine.” He murmurs between kisses. “I love you, sugar.” He grunts, starting to rock into you.
“I love you, Jack.” You close your eyes as he starts to make the bed creak as he pushes in and out of you. It’s a rhythm that seems as old as time but it’s still so new to you. Your legs wrap around his waist and he groans in pleasure when your walls clench down around him.
No more words are spoken as he rocks into you. There's no rush, no worry, nothing hanging over your head. Just the two of you and the future shining bright ahead. "Fuck. You feel so good, sweetheart." He murmurs, reaching down to slide his hand between you so he can rub your bundle of nerves.
Your fingers dig into his shoulders, making you whine as he expertly drives you mad. “I want to feel you.” You gasp. “I want to feel you deep inside me when you cum.”
He groans, “that’s it sweetheart. You need to - fuck - cum for me.” He demands, “cum first and then you’ll feel me.” He promises, rocking into you a little harder.
You pant into his mouth, nodding as your eyes slip closed again. Letting him completely overwhelm your senses. “Jack-“ you bite your lip and rock your hips down, feeling your body fly to the edge of bliss so quickly under his talented hands.
He groans as you squeeze him, lost in the feel of your cunt gripping his cock and knowing he doesn’t have to pull out of you to spill his seed onto your belly. He moans your name, “gonna - gonna cum.” He warns you, wanting you to be sure.
“Yes, baby.” You moan, cunt clenching harder in anticipation. Wanting to feel what it is like to be filled for the first time. “Cum, I want to see you.” Eyes open, you caress his cheek gently. “Make me your wife completely.”
He clenches his jaw, watching you and he pants your name, desperate to fill you up, make you his in every way. “Fuck.” He hisses, dark eyes focused completely on you. “I’m gonna - I’m gonna - shit.” He growls, pushing deep as his cock twitches, chest heaving and eyes squeezed shut as he paints your walls.
You whimper, feeling the heat filling you. Flooding your womb and it gives you the sense of completion you had never expected to feel. Like this is what was supposed to be when you climbed onto that train. “I love you.” You whisper, kissing along his jaw as he rocks into you, riding out his pleasure.
He collapses onto you, shifting his weight to his forearms so he doesn’t crush you. His lips press against yours, tongue sliding into your mouth as his entire body buzzes. He loves you so much. You’ve saved him. He never imagined that inspecting the fence on the edge of his property with Judd Miller would lead to him finding the woman who would save him from his solitude. “I love you too, Mrs. Daniels.” He murmurs and you giggle, caressing his back. “The boys will be here soon for dinner.” You sigh when you are curled around him, his hand caressing your thigh. “They can serve themselves.” Jack growls, squeezing your ass and leaning in to kiss your neck. Your squeal makes his chuckle. His house is a home once again.