AKA: I’ve been creating this for months and finally feel ready to post it!
In lieu of a story this week, you guys get the world’s most chaotic headcanon list for almost all of the characters I write for. I didn’t add Oberyn or Tovar to the list because it was too late when I watched their respective medias. Oops. Anyway, enjoy my creative bullshit, my projection of my issues onto fictional characters, and my place to hold all my little quirks for characters.
Warnings: Some angst sprinkled throughout and of course some language. Also, this is a very long document! 15 google docs pages! Holy crap!
Din Djarin:
Din has a box aboard the Crest called a Before Box. Each foundling gets one, and they typically put things from their prior lives in the boxes. It’s made of beskar, so it survived the Crest’s explosion. In Din’s is his first helmet, his old robes from the day of the attack, a mythosaur plushie from his rescuer, and his very first blaster.
Din didn’t know pronouns and separate gender were a thing until he left the covert. Mando’a is a gender neutral language and all Mandalorians are equal regardless of gender, so seeing men and women treated differently and with different words was a surprise to Din.
Din can count on one hand the amount of people he trusts with his life. Surprisingly, Peli is at the top of that list.
He doesn’t know it, but Din has a sister. She was a newborn baby when Aq Ventina was attacked, and he always assumed she died. She didn’t die, and she’s now a lovely farmer on some peaceful water planet.
Din’s favorite color is teal.
To him it isn’t important, but one of his legs isn’t real. His left leg was bitten off by some monster on his very first bounty hunt. The prosthetic is made of beskar.
Din loves music. Sometimes he’ll sit in cantinas with a band for longer than he technically has to just so that he can listen to music.
Din went back to Arvala-7 after he gave Grogu to Luke. He didn’t stay for long. In fact, all he wanted to do was go find the dead body of the Mudhorn he’d killed and take a small bone from it. He ended up with one of its teeth and he put it in his Before Box.
More often than not, Din sleeps on the floor of the Crest. His bunk makes his back hurt.
Din’s pretty decent at sewing.
Every so often, Din visits Boba and Fennec so he can relax.
When he isn’t on the Crest or some other ship, Din has very odd sleeping preferences. He likes lots of pillows, at least three blankets, and some kind of ambient noise. He also prefers space to stretch out, but won’t complain if he has to sleep in close quarters.
He has a bedroom in Boba’s palace. It’s got everything he wants, including windows with dividers up against them so he can have the sunlight without the risk of someone seeing his face.
Din always sleeps in the same position. On his left side with his legs bent a bit and his arms up, so his arms are covering his face and his hands are in his hair. He also burrows in the blankets. It’s all just a security measure so if someone walks in, they won’t see his face.
After Grogu was taken by Luke, Din started to become more active with the foundlings. He’s the covert’s beroya and he’s allowed to leave, so the foundlings love to hear his stories about the outside.
Din can name a lot of planets. Like. A lot of them.
Din knows at least a tiny bit of most languages. He can say hello in every one he knows, but he’s sloppy with just about every language aside from Basic. Even Mando’a. He sometimes trips up his pronunciation or sentence structure.
Din is very very ticklish.
The last person to hug Din was Paz. They’re similar in age and grew up together in the covert. They shared a room, and they hugged each other on the day Din left to be the covert’s beroya, because they didn’t know when they’d see each other again.
Din’s close with most of the covert members, and they’re all as good as family, but Paz is the person he’s closest with.
Din’s poor back is in pain almost every day. He knows it’s from his less than ideal career and sleeping conditions, but he isn’t exactly going to change any time soon.
There is no force on this planet or any other that will ever convince me Din isn’t a cuddler.
When he was little, Din hated veggies, and his mother would always chastise him when he left them on his plate. She told him that if he ate his vegetables first, he could have dessert, but only if he ate the veggies first. Ever since then, even when she was dead and he was a bounty hunter, he always always eats his vegetables first.
Din snorts when he laughs. And I’m not talking small snorts either.
Occasionally, Din will lapse into mute spells, not talking to anyone, even if he has to. When this happens, he’ll hole himself up in Peli’s shop until he’s ready to leave because she’s the only one he knows who knows Tusken sign language. She won’t tell him, but she likes having him around and knowing he’s safe and well taken care of.
Din loves listening to thunderstorms when he’s sleeping in the Crest.
Din is the kind of person who sneezes like ten times in a row. But they’re all kitten sneezes! Even so, they sound hysterical when he can’t remove his helmet.
Din’s diet consists of super easy and basic things like soup, ration blocks, and the occasional space equivalent of a hot pocket.
I don’t care that it isn’t possible timeline wise. Din has met all five members of the Bad Batch at some point in his travels, however, he met them all separately, and hasn’t been able to put two and two together and realize they’re all one squad.
Marcus Moreno:
Marcus is lactose intolerant. Not severely, but just enough to make him hesitant before eating dairy products.
Marcus wasn’t able to fully mourn his wife for almost three months. He held himself together for Missy, and finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and drove to his mothers house so he could process every emotion he’d been suppressing. He was there for a little over two weeks in varying states of mourning while Missy stayed with a family friend.
Marcus still has his wisdom teeth. At this point, he’ll probably die with them.
Marcus was and will forever be an avid Doctor Who fan. His favorite Doctor is 11, but he was absolutely delighted when they announced 13, and she’s his very close second favorite.
Marcus can knit really well.
He never chose a hero name because he never intended to be a hero full time. So when the time came to introduce himself to the city, he just used his real legal name because he couldn’t think of anything else.
Marcus’s favorite fictional superhero is Superman. Don’t tell Miracle Guy though, because MG gets his inspiration from Superman, and whenever anyone says Superman is their favorite, he gets a big head about it.
Good lord does Marcus get sick easily. And it’s always super bad. He passed out once in the CVS parking lot once because he had pneumonia. Thankfully, this was before his wife passed away, so he didn’t face plant the asphalt.
Marcus has his own office, he just doesn’t ever use it. He prefers to know exactly what’s going on at all times, so he works in the information room.
Marcus’s reflexes are incredible. Despite that, he’s a very heavy sleeper. He’s slept through thunderstorms, earthquakes, villain attacks, and plenty more.
Marcus is a renaissance faire kind of guy. He loves going every year, and will put Missy on his shoulders so she can see the jousts better.
Before she passed, Marcus’s wife gave him a teddy bear with a recording of her heartbeat and her saying ‘I love you.’ Whenever Marcus is sad, he’ll listen to the recording.
Marcus lost his wife to cancer. It’s made him paranoid about his and Missy’s health.
Marcus is very adamant that in the Moreno household, we read the books before we watch the movies.
His dedication to this rule made him read each and every single Game of Thrones book. He actually enjoyed them once he was able to pass the 400 page mark of book 1.
Marcus’s vision is atrocious. I’m talking he’s well over 20/400 in both eyes, and can barely see six inches in front of his own face without contacts or glasses.
He snores. A lot.
Marcus wanted to be an elementary school teacher when he was growing up. Then, his powers became a thing and he only had one career path that he could take.
Marcus is big on ‘fuck gender.’ Once, after some asshat made sexist comments about female heroes, Marcus wore a leather skirt, his usual button up and leather jacket, and absolutely killer blood red high heels to some big hero event. He also got Ms. Vox to do his makeup. Pictures from that event were headline news for three months.
Marcus met his late wife when she spilled coffee all over him on her first day of work at a coffee shop.
Marcus is a 50/50 split between a Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
He often eats the same things Missy does for breakfast. On the weekends, she has two Eggo waffles with Nutella on them, so that’s what Marcus eats too. He likes to make his into a sandwich though, and he always insists they eat a fruit.
Marcus will often send Missy completely ridiculous YouTube videos in the middle of the day. Including but not limited to: Mothman YMCA parody, every single Potter Puppet Pals, lots of otter videos, and vine compilations.
Marcus’s favorite TV show is Friends. He watches it with Missy all the time, and they quote it to each other whenever they can.
When Marcus is working out at Heroics headquarters, he listens to Twenty One Pilots’ ‘Trench’ album.
Once, while drunk, Miracle Guy dared Marcus to shave with one of his swords. Needless to say, Marcus still has that scar from where he almost slit his own throat on accident.
Marcus and Missy use Steven Universe as a way to talk about and better understand mental health. It works surprisingly well.
Ever since he was little, Marcus has had horrible chronic nosebleeds. No doctor ever found a cause, and they mellowed as he aged, so he only gets one every month or so.
Max Phillips:
Max will put up a huge cold front upon meeting anyone for the first time. But just wait, because that cold exterior will melt away with time and he will become the clingiest, neediest bitch eVER.
When he first turned, he did his best to only feed off of small animals. He never wanted to kill any people.
Animals hate him. With a passion. The only exception is cats. Which he’s allergic to.
Max’s eyes are actually red. They’re just a very very deep red that gets passed off as brown a lot.
Despite the fact that he can’t really die, Max is very cautious with his safety. He can still get hurt, and he hates it.
In his free time, Max reads a lot of YA fiction.
Sunlight won’t outright kill him, but it hurts like a bitch. Same with other vampire things. He can have garlic, sure, but it makes his throat swell like he’s allergic. He can totally touch holy items, they just give him second-degree burns.
Speaking of vampire things, Max has a whole notebook full of experiments he did when he first turned. He figured out all his powers, all his weaknesses, his limits, and all of it is kept in a small black notebook he carries everywhere.
Max doesn’t sleep. He uses the extra time to get work done super fast. He enjoys having weekends off.
Before he got turned, Max was battling Lyme disease and then Post-Treatment Lyme Disease Syndrome. It was hell, and he frequently wished for someone to put him out of his misery.
Max is a huge fan of musical theater. His favorite show is School of Rock.
For those of you who remember this chaotic mess, Max was an avid viewer of Unus Annus.
Max can smell illness from a mile away. He uses this skill often around the office to catch outbreaks of colds or the flu.
Sometimes, when he’s exhausted, Max will lay in bed and close his eyes. He doesn’t sleep, but he’ll relax in bed and try to rest his body.
Max has a very specific morning routine. He likes to sit on the front porch with a warm cup of blood, because he can’t have coffee, and listen to ‘The Amazing Devil’ songs while he watches the sun rise. Once the sun is up, he has to go in, but he likes to watch it rise before it starts to shine really bright and burn him.
Max is self conscious of his fangs. He’s always worried that they’re out when they shouldn’t be, and that he’ll be outed and have to leave the city.
To Max, the worst part about being a vampire is that he can’t cry.
Before he was turned, Max was severely dyslexic. Somehow, being turned fixed his dyslexia, and he’s oddly grateful.
Max cannot get drunk. That isn’t for lack of trying though.
Max loves horror games. He doesn’t think they’re scary, mostly just thrill-inducing. His favorites are the Resident Evil series of games because they span everything, from pure horror to more of an adventure game. He loves it all, especially the storytelling. Plus, the graphics are amazing.
Despite being a creature of darkness, Max is a very loving person, it’s just the outer shell that’s a complete bastard. Work your way under that, and you end up with a goofy college kid who really just likes kisses and cuddles.
Max sleeps with a Pillow Pet. It’s shaped like a dog. He named it Henry. (Much debate happened in college about whether Henry is named after Henry Cavill, Max’s secret celebrity crush. He will deny it until the day he dies again)
As a joke, one of Max’s vampire friends got him all five ‘Vladimir Tod’ books. He’ll never admit it, but he’s read all of them and thinks they’re hilarious.
Max is oddly glad that certain things about vampires aren’t true. For example, he does show up in mirrors and he can have his photo taken.
Max is left handed.
Max likes to play drinking games at local bars with college kids. He’s the fucking boss at beer pong because hey. Can’t get drunk.
Max’s bed doesn’t look like a bed. It looks like a bird’s nest made of pillows and blankets. It’s all because Max is a very physically cold person, and he very much likes being cocooned in his bed.
Max used to have a ridiculous sweet tooth. Now, because all food tastes like sawdust to him, Max likes to buy bags of candy and just smell them before sharing them with his human friends.
Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:
Frankie is the only one of the boys who knows French because it was his language class in high school. He’s completely fluent and when the boys used to do stupid shit on missions, he’d chew them out in rapid fire French because he can say whatever he wants and not have the boys give him shit for it.
Frankie eats the same thing for breakfast every day. A bagel with a little bit of peanut butter. Oh, and at least three cups of coffee.
He is a complete slut for chicken nuggets.
Frankie has a very peculiar way of determining whether someone is worth a second date or not if he’s on the fence about it. He’ll ask them to guess his full first name to see if they pay attention, because he introduces himself as “Francisco but just call me Frankie.” Most people fail, because what the hell is Frankie even short for? Some people guess Francis, and he’s gotten Franklin once or twice. He gave in and went on a second date with someone who got it wrong exactly once, and that was because she said ‘Dr. Frank-N-Furter’ and he laughed for five minutes straight.
Frankie is prone to horrible, debilitating chronic migraines.
Sometimes I headcanon Frankie as trans.
In the trans headcanon, Frankie’s dead name is Francesca, and Santi helped him come out to his family and transition. There still exist junior prom photos of Frankie in a stunning dress, and then the next year in a handsome tux at senior prom.
I always headcanon Frankie as pansexual.
One of his favorite parts of going to the grocery store is admiring those shitty display cakes that are mostly frosting and chemicals. He also loves the lobster tank.
Frankie’s safe spaces are aquariums and bookstores.
Frankie’s love language is physical touch. If he doesn’t get hugs once every few days, it’s noticeable. He’s all sullen and quiet until someone asks him what’s wrong. Benny usually notices first. Sometimes, if it’s been a really long time without comforting contact, Frankie will stretch out on the couch or floor and Benny will lay on top of him. It’s deep pressure therapy, except that deep pressure is a squirmy best friend and not the usual weighted blanket.
Unlike Max, Frankie makes absolutely no effort to hide how clingy and/or needy he is.
Once, on a mission, a boulder fell and crushed Frankie’s foot and ankle. Thanks to his sturdy boots he wasn’t permanently disabled, but the rock was heavy as hell and there was a brief moment where they thought they’d have to do a field amputation. He needed three surgeries to fix the damage, and even years later that ankle still gives him trouble. He wears a brace for it sometimes.
Frankie got the name Catfish because he and Santi went skinny dipping in a lake in Louisiana during one spring break during high school, and Frankie got bit twice by a catfish. Once on the toe (he stuck his foot into a catfish hole, what did he expect?) and once on the dick. Santi laughed for ten minutes straight and called Frankie ‘Catfish’ for three weeks in a row after that. Once that story got around to the Miller boys, he was dubbed Catfish for the duration of his life. (Yes I know he probably got the nickname because of his facial hair, but shh, let me have my fun)
Frankie loves all his mission partners, but he’s closest with Benny. No one knows why. (Frankie knows why. He won’t tell anyone.)
For real, the reason Benny and Frankie are so close is because they were in a relationship at one point. It started as Benny exploring his sexuality, and then Frankie admitting he had a small crush on Benny, and then boom. Secret relationship. It only lasted a year (ish) but neither have forgotten and they’re still very very close to each other.
Frankie grew up in a huge and mildly problematic family. He was one of seven kids, and his parents were divorced.
Frankie’s a twin. He’s the younger one, and his twin sister is his best friend (aside from the boys).
Out of everyone on this headcanon list, Frankie’s the one with the most prominent and well cared for curls. Get his hair long enough and give it a good wash, and he’ll have those thick springy curls that are super fun to tug on and watch them bounce.
Frankie mourned Tom the longest.
Frankie’s favorite movie, hands down no questions at all, is How to Train Your Dragon. Specifically the second one.
Frankie’s sense of balance is somehow both impeccable and a goddamn horror show. He’s super stable and pretty steady when he has to be, but any other time, and he will constantly be tripping over his own two feet and dropping things and running into the corners of cabinets.
It isn’t odd to find Frankie with one or two band-aids and bruises on his body. He likes the fun character band-aids that are technically for kids. Let the man have Hello Kitty band-aids goddammit!
Frankie only has one phobia. Needles.
Frankie is the oldest of the boys after Tom died. Tom was older than him by two years, but Frankie’s got nine months on Santi, four years on Will, and six years on Benny. They tease the shit out of him and all routinely call him old. He joins in when his back aches.
Frankie’s a textbook Hufflepuff.
Frankie listens to My Chemical Romance when he exercises.
Frankie’s favorite fruit, if not his favorite food ever, is raspberries. He can, will, and has eaten three pounds of raspberries in one sitting. He was camping with the boys, and he threw them up half an hour later.
Frankie doesn’t complain about anything. If he starts telling the boys he’s in a little bit of pain, they immediately translate that into ‘Fish is actively dying.’
When the Boys were active duty, their team had no field medic, so Frankie was not only their pilot, but also their medic. He’s incredibly skilled when it comes to medicine, and could probably go to school to become a nurse if he wanted to.
Frankie hates being called Francisco. To him, it’s too formal and not a name that suits him. Not even Tom called him that, and that’s saying something, because Tom always used full names.
Frankie listens to ASMR videos to help him fall asleep.
Frankie always carries a small mass-market sized book when he goes on missions. Usually, it’s a fantasy novel like Game of Thrones or some sort of classic like the Hobbit, and he reads whatever he brought to help him fall asleep. Of course, this progressed into him reading an entire Witcher book to Benny on a long mission when Benny couldn’t sleep, but he likes Benny and he likes the book, so he won’t complain.
You cannot convince me that Frankie wasn’t the king of illegal and semi-legal drag racing when he was in his early twenties.
Upon realizing he had enough friends to be the Ghostbusters for Halloween, Frankie spent three years convincing his friends to go to a costume party with him as the Ghostbusters. Was Benny sad he couldn’t be a Ghostbuster? A little. Was he hella stoked to be the secretary? Yes he was. Did Frankie nearly piss himself laughing when Benny put the wig on? You bet he did.
Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels:
Some of the younger statesman agents (like Tequila) call Jack ‘Old Man.’ He doesn’t mind. This progressed into Tequila calling him Dad as a joke, and now literally anyone ten years younger than him calls him Dad for serious. Does he mind? Not really.
Jack’s nickname from Ginger is Casanova because of how overly flirty he is.
Jack’s favorite song is ‘Why’d you come in here looking like that’ closely followed by ‘9 to 5.’ Can you tell he just really likes Dolly Parton?
Jack has been fatally injured seven times. Four head shots, one lung shot, and two cases of poisoning.
When he gets drunk, Jack will try and do stupid stunts with his lasso. He gave himself a black eye once because he pulled a chair into his face.
Jack grew up on a ranch, and when his father passed away, he inherited it
Because of the ranch, Jack is an expert horseback rider. He used to compete professionally in rodeos before he became a Statesman agent.
He has plenty of animals, but his favorite are the cows! The cows don’t do much except look cute, and his favorite is Bella, who greets him every night when he comes home from work.
Jack loves old music. Catch him early in the morning dancing to whatever is playing on the 50’s station on the radio. He’s a huge goof about it too. Using the dirty spatula as a microphone and slipping around in his socks until he’s tripping and falling onto the floor. What a dork.
When he learned his wife was pregnant, he cried. A lot.
His wife wanted a baby boy because she wanted him to look like Jack. Jack wanted a baby girl to spoil absolutely rotten. Neither of them knew, but his wife was pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl. They only knew about the boy.
Jack is magic in the kitchen. He can cook just about anything, and will regularly try and replicate intricate and difficult dishes because they look cool. He is, however, entirely hopeless at baking.
Once, Jack got into a very heated argument about Frankenstein with Ginger. They were both tipsy and he’s incredibly passionate about Frankenstein, which resulted in an argument that was 90% him just going on and on about how Victor Frankenstein was the real monster.
Jack has questionable taste in movies. If he had his way, he’d watch The Man From Uncle every fucking day.
Jack and Ginger are actually pretty close. They act like annoying same age cousins who are super close and also don’t like each other but hang out at every family function because everyone else completely sucks and they only mildly suck.
Jack’s relationship with Tequila is rocky because of the generation gap, but he genuinely cares for the younger agent, and Tequila absolutely sees Jack as a super chill parental figure.
Jack’s entire family lives in Tennessee. His ranch is out there, but for work purposes, he also has an apartment in Kentucky, New York, and California. His favorite place to reside is the Tennessee ranch. It’s the one with the most roots for him and there’s a Tennessee Statesman office, so his commute isn’t horrible.
Aside from the ranch and the apartments, Jack technically has one more house. Located in the middle of goddamn nowhere Virginia, he owns land and a small farmhouse where he was going to retire and raise his kids.
Jack has a very odd skill. He’s able to fall asleep in the bathtub. He takes baths for his aching muscles (age isn’t kind to him) and more often than not, he’ll drift off or fully fall asleep.
Jack is the worst bed partner. He kicks and wiggles and talks in his sleep. Anyone who’s ever shared a bed with him has woken up with at least one bruise that Jack apologized for.
Jack would’ve been the very first agent to ever celebrate their 50th birthday with Statesman. Champ took over when he was 54, and most other agents die or retire before they reach 50. Jack was the closest before he got meat grinded. He was 45.
In true cowboy fashion, Jack can play a few instruments. The typical ones, like guitar, are expected, and he’s not half bad on the banjo. However, he can also play the fiddle. He can play the fiddle extremely well. He likes to play Cotton Eyed Joe and Timber relentlessly just to piss Ginger off.
Jack’s favorite pool activity is laying on a pool float and reading. Give him a sappy romance novel and a pair of sunglasses and he’s good for the afternoon. Just make sure to check on him every so often and remind him to put on some damn sunscreen, because he will forget.
As a ‘training exercise,’ Ginger made Jack play horror games while filming his reactions and counting his BPM. Somewhere in the Statesman archives exists a disc with Jack’s frantic screaming and violently swearing as he played Poppy Playtime. He fell off the couch trying to play the game, and made Ginger swear to burn the damn disc. In the background, you can absolutely hear Tequila and Ginger losing their shit. Tequila watches it when he misses Jack. It makes him happy.
Ezra:
Ezra straight up legally adopted Cee once the events of the film were over.
I have said this multiple times, but I can finally elaborate! Ezra’s an orphan, and he was orphaned at a young age, about six. So he became a ward of the state. They took his surname and gave him a number. He was and still is Ezra 4053. His living conditions were complete shit. He was constantly sick, usually abused by the caregivers, and never had a full meal until the day he turned 18 and became a prospector.
Ezra has two books that mean more to him than everything else he owns combined. One is an old book of poems, and the other is a journal he fills with his own poetry.
Ezra smells like cloves.
He doesn’t remember, but his mother used to have a big furry cat that was named Starlight. Starlight was Ezra’s best friend before she died of old age when he was five.
Ezra’s parents died in a vehicle accident. He was in the vehicle when it crashed. He was the only survivor.
Ezra’s more of an audiobook person, and he likes to listen to them while prospecting.
Post-amputation, Ezra gets horrible phantom limb pain. Cee found a solution. She’ll sit on his bed and describe, in very vivid detail, what she’s doing to his missing hand. Sometimes she holds it, sometimes she paints his nails, and once she braided a friendship bracelet onto it. It really helps remind Ezra there’s nothing there.
Ezra likes to have physical photos of events. His memory is horrible due to the Green, so he likes to have evidence that events happen. Cee helps him date the photos, and even puts little captions on them.
The blonde streak in Ezra’s hair is natural. It used to be super faded and hard to see, but became sharper and more prominent as he got older.
After the Green, Ezra needs to sleep with a machine that helps regulate his breathing because of all the damage he did to his lungs.
Ezra’s a side and belly sleeper, and he physically cannot fall asleep if he’s on his back.
Ezra is extremely claustrophobic.
Ezra likes to try new hobbies to see if any will stick. So far, he’s only had a few that have lasted. Those are flower pressing, embroidery, reading, and the most recent one is painting.
If Ezra were to have a dog, it would be a greyhound.
Ezra’s favorite color is yellow.
Surprisingly, Ezra hates coffee. He prefers tea, especially citrusy teas.
Ezra fears almost nothing. He isn’t scared of blood or pain or heights or anything else. The only thing he won’t do is bugs. If it has more than four legs, it’s a huge no and he might run away screaming. He may or may not have been a giant baby when a spider got into his pod once. Cee had to escort said spider outside because no matter how scared of them he is, Ezra doesn’t want to kill anything that didn’t try to kill him first.
Ezra runs warm. I’m talking this man is practically a walking furnace.
Ezra doesn’t know, but the thing that relaxes him most, especially on jobs, is some form of oral fixation. If he can, he’ll chew/suck on his fingers because that calms him the most. If he can’t, or if Cee catches him with half his index finger in his mouth, he gets to have a piece of hard candy or a rubbery toy on a necklace to chew or suck on.
Before he became a prospector, Ezra wanted to be a prosthetics mechanic. He thinks it’s ironic that that was his dream job and now here he is, in need of a prosthetic himself.
Ezra’s great grandmother was a luthier, and he grew up surrounded by her music and her skill. Everyone in his family used to joke that he inherited her steady hands because he used to show off his nearly flawless carving work. Now, after the loss of his family and one of his hands, he almost wants to pick up his great grandmother’s old job and retire to become a luthier like her.
Ezra has no idea how the hell bath bombs work but he loves them so goddamn much.
Ezra is an oversized sweaters kind of man. Cee ties his right sleeve into a knot so it doesn’t flop around and annoy him. Do they have matching holiday sweaters? Yes they do!
Bonus: Ezra is still mad they took Prospect off of Netflix. So is Dewey. Dewey is verymad.
Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey:
Everyone expects Dio’s favorite movie to be some bloody horror show, but it isn’t. His favorite movie is the Addams Family Values. His favorite character is Morticia.
Dio is deathly allergic to peanuts.
For three Halloweens in a row, Dio was Beetlejuice. He dyed his hair green instead of buying a wig all three times.
Dio is the youngest of four kids. He was originally one of two boys, but his older brother came out as trans, so now he’s the only boy. The kids are, in order, Everly, Vivianne, Brynn, and then Dio.
Dio’s got a really sensitive stomach and some mild to moderate digestion issues.
He also needs glasses. Badly. But will he ever wear them? Absolutely not they ruin his vibe.
Dio has never owned a car and he has no driver’s license.
When Dio gets drunk, he’s a completely different person. He will not shut his mouth and is usually pretty happy. It’s the only time anyone outside of his family can ever see him smile genuinely.
Dio grew up on Percy Jackson, which progressed into a really big Greek Mythology obsession. He knows every popular myth and a fair amount of the obscure ones. His favorite myth is the myth of Hades and Persephone. (Duh)
Dio hasn’t seen a dentist in a decade. Why? Because they terrify him.
The first time he dyed his hair, it wasn’t black. It was electric blue and he wore that color for a while. He only started doing black after he’d exhausted every other color he wanted to try.
Dio still has a bunch of stuffed animals. He sleeps with one, a stuffed deer he named Doe.
Dio feeds all the stray cats that live around his apartment. He named them all and if he notices any of them are young or pregnant, he’ll do his best to catch them and take them somewhere safe.
Dio’s not close with his dad, but he is very close with his mom.
While he always paints his fingernails black, Dio likes to paint his toenails funky colors. No one’s ever gonna see, so why does it matter?
Dio’s very good with babies, which shocks a lot of people. But he grew up with three older sisters who all loved to play dolls and house and all that, and he didn’t hate it. He actually took a parenting class in high school, and all three of his sisters have a hilarious photo of Dio wearing a pregnancy belly.
Dio didn’t start the whole goth thing until he moved out. Before that, he was really full of life with his colorful hair and innocent smile. His mother suspects it’s because he isn’t around family anymore, because he always becomes that smiley kid again when he’s with his sisters.
Dio’s got three face piercings that aren’t in his ears. He has snake bites, and those rings are black. But he’s also got a silver tongue piercing.
He shaves his legs. It’s purely for comfort when he sleeps.
Dio used to have long hair, and he always tied it back with scrunchies he borrowed from his sisters.
Dio doesn’t drink enough water, but he does make up for it by chewing on ice all day long.
Whenever he walks around the city, he’ll listen to Green Day.
Dio watches Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune every night.
The only person who’s ever allowed to call Dio ‘Shane’ is his mother. His oldest sister tried once and he wrestled her for ten minutes straight.
Dio’s favorite color isn’t black. It’s actually navy.
Dio didn’t pick ‘Dio’ as his nickname. It was given to him by one of the people who joined his cult as a way to worship him as a god, and he just sort of embraced it until it became his name. Even so, he does still feel uncomfortable going around calling himself ‘God’ all the time. It’s one of the reasons he hasn’t changed his name legally.
Don’t ask why, but Dio is a master at ballroom dancing.
(Spicey Warning) Everyone assumes Dio’s a top and loves to dominate in bed. In actuality, Dio is 100% a bottom and a huge brat.
Dio’s dream job is nurse. Not a doctor. Nurse. Especially before moving out and living on his own, he desperately wanted to help people, but now, that plan is down the drain. He still hopes there’s a way for him to afford/get into a good school to make his way toward his dream though.
Dio’s favorite animal of all time is the sea turtle.
Javier Peña:
Javier has perfected the art of ‘only one bed.’ 90% of the time he’ll take the couch or something, but when it’s Steve, they’re close enough to share the bed without it feeling too awkward.
He doesn’t eat breakfast. Or lunch really. Dinner is also iffy. He eats when he can, it doesn’t matter if it’s a mealtime or not.
He’ll threaten your life if you take and/or touch his coffee. He drinks it at all hours of the day, and it’s his second worst habit.
Once, someone (Steve) tried to instate a rule that Javier couldn’t have coffee between noon and midnight because that much caffeine wasn’t healthy. He found a loophole within two days. That loophole was caffeinated tea.
On Sundays, Javier will sit in front of a tiny radio and listen to football scores from Texas. He did it once on a stakeout with Steve, who’s from California, and their respective teams were playing each other. That stakeout almost ended in a fistfight.
Javier would rather die than admit it, but he’s a cat person.
Because he grew up in rural Texas and then spent a whole decade (?) doing car chases in Colombia, Javier drives like a maniac. Speed limits? Who cares! He learned to drive on back roads and dirt paths where the speed limit was whatever your car could feasibly do, and his reckless driving was only reinforced during his time in Colombia! What I’m saying is, Steve will never get in another car with Javier unless Javi is the passenger. Ever.
Javier can ride horses like nobody’s business. He’s also pretty decent at rodeo, but was never good enough to compete.
Javier had five sisters. Three older and two younger.
Whenever anyone finds a baby while working, they call Javier. He has a natural affinity for babies. He holds them and sings in Spanish and generally keeps them calm until the professionals arrive.
Javier has no clue where the nickname ‘Javi’ came from. Was it his sisters? Was it his coworkers? Was it Steve? He doesn’t remember, and he really doesn’t care.
Javier was hospitalized four times during his time in Colombia.
He once jumped into a burning building to get trapped sex workers out.
Javier treats everyone equally. He’s courteous and forgiving right up until you’ve proven yourself a giant asshole. Until then, he’s got those precious southern manners and he ain’t afraid to use them.
Javier’s got a huge soft spot for younger, eager eyed agents. He still remembers when he was like that, and he’ll try to preserve that innocence as long as he can.
Every single time he plays, Javier wins Monopoly by a wide margin.
While he doesn’t want kids of his own, Javier loves being the fun uncle Javi.
Javier’s a cold pizza kind of person.
When Javier was little, he used to practice crochet and knitting with his sisters. Every blanket he keeps in his apartment in Columbia is handmade, and he crochets an ass ton of stuff for Steve’s baby.
Javier is technically deaf. Because of all the explosions and gunshots, Javier’s hearing is abysmal, and if he cared enough to see a doctor, he’d get told he should probably be using hearing aids.
When he was little, Javier had these thick as shit Coke bottle glasses that he despised with a passion. As soon as they became safe, he started to use contacts instead of glasses.
Javier likes to go to local farmer’s markets on the weekends. He really likes fresh produce.
Maxwell Lord:
Max still sleeps with a teddy bear. Deep down, he knows that it’s a sign of trauma because he had most of his comforts taken when he was too young, but he doesn’t care. The bear’s name is Jo.
Max loves the Fourth of July solely for the fireworks.
In the beginning, Max did his best to seem human to all of his clients and customers. He never wanted to be like the fake salesmen on TV.
Alistair was born of a one night stand, and the woman involved hates Max’s guts. He does his best to ignore her.
Max looks almost nothing like his dad, and everything like his mom.
In high school, Max was bullied for his features, specifically his nose. It took him a decade and a half to finally accept his image.
Max has a cat. She’s a fluffy, spoiled, and entirely gorgeous white cat named Duchess.
Max never really learned how to communicate or process his feelings. He’s prone to outbursts, and can often be described as childish due to his lack of grasp on his emotions.
On a happier note, Max’s favorite ice cream flavor is Neapolitan.
Max’s handwriting has two modes. It’s either beautifully legible cursive or unreadable chicken scratch, and there is no in between.
Max loves to garden. He specifically likes to weed. There’s just something oddly relaxing about pulling out the weeds to him.
Max likes to play single man card games. Solitaire is his jam.
As polished as Max may look on TV, he doesn’t look like that every day. In fact, usually when he’s home, he’s in pyjamas.
Max gets the worst bedheads.
He can’t really tell, but Max is a tiny bit red/green colorblind.
Max is a giant lightweight.
Max actually likes Hawaiian pizza.
Sleeping in the same bed as Max is damn near impossible. He sleeps like a cat, all sprawled out in positions that cannot possibly be comfortable.
Max’s spring allergies are the absolute worst. I’m talking constantly congested, sneezing six or seven times in a row, and red rimmed eyes nearly every day.
Social cues are Max’s worst goddamn enemy. He doesn’t understand them! He has to literally train himself to recognize social cues and how to respond to them so people don’t think he’s an idiot.
Pretty early on, Max had to learn how to alter his own clothes out of necessity. Now, he doesn’t even need to think about it when he has anything that doesn’t fit, he just plops down at his sewing machine and fixes it himself, no fuss no muss.
Max’s only phobia is the doctor and/or medical settings.
Someone get this poor man a decent sleep schedule. Max routinely stays up until well past midnight, even when he has to be at the office super early. He just can’t turn his brain off so he can’t sleep until he literally works himself into a state of pure exhaustion.
Max still sleeps with a nightlight.
Max has a huge collection of classic novels that he prides himself on owning. Technically though, he has two collections. One is on display in his office, and all those books are in English and they’re all fancy and beautiful. The other one is a less put together shelf that’s hidden in his home of the exact same books, only in Spanish. That collection is his ragtag, fifty cent, none of them match, some are literally falling apart, book collection. He used to use his pocket money to buy books, and that old shelf of Spanish classics is full of books he bought himself when he was a child learning English.
Max has to literally fight for time with his son. Alistair’s mother thinks he’s a horrible influence, so he has to fight her tooth and nail for more than a weekend every other week.
Max runs warm. He always has and he always will. He used to give the school nurse a fright because he’d come to school with what was technically very close to a fever, but no, that’s just his regular body temperature.
A/N: Something Spicey from me? Unheard of! But for real, this is probably the only spicy thing I will ever write, so enjoy it! I had fun writing this, and I hope you have fun reading it. There is no horribly obvious spice before the cut, so anyone who is underage, please turn back! This isn’t for your sensitive eyes!
The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.
You’d been here for hours, and he hadn’t even looked at you.
It was practically cruel at this point, how casually he was doing his paperwork while you were tied up on his couch, quite literally. You pouted, sighing out through your nose. Deep breaths, be patient. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t, leave you here without paying you any attention.
Would he?
Jack flipped his paper, not even looking up. His pen scratched against whatever document he was signing. You imagined the flow of the ink, the swirls of his signature. The warm grip of his fingers against the pen.
You tugged against the cuffs. They were lined in soft fur so as not to damage your skin, but this long in the restraints and your fingers were starting to tingle. Knowing Jack, you could absolutely safeword out of this, but if he wanted to play the long game, you were happy to oblige. Nearly four and a half hours ago, he’d pulled you into his office and bound you in your favorite leather harness and cuffs, telling you to wait for him on the couch. You’d patiently waited, watching him intently, knowing your pointed staring was making his skin prickle. Every time he shifted, you smirked. If he wanted to play the long and uncomfortable game, well, two could play like that.
“Whiskey.”
A voice broke you from your spell, and you looked at the office door, almost scared. He wouldn’t, would he?
“Yes Ginger?” Jack asked, standing and pulling the wooden room divider open, so it hid the couch you were on from the view of the door. As he did so, he didn’t even look at you, not one glance to at least acknowledge your bound form. You wanted to scream.
The door opened, and although you couldn’t see her, you could hear Ginger enter the office. Jack’s words were tilted with a smile as he spoke.
“Ah, I was waiting for this. Thank you Ginge.”
Ginger’s footsteps shuffled. “Of course,” she said. “Have you seen Mojito? Tequila says they entered your office and never left?”
Jack chuckled. “Haven’t seen ‘em,” he said, and you rolled your eyes.
Ginger left, her heels clicking on the floor. Jack set whatever Ginger had given him down and smoothly slid the divider back to its original position, revealing you in all your practically naked glory. “Good afternoon Mojito,” Jack drawled. “I didn’t see you there.”
You almost wished he’d gagged you. Thousands of witty and borderline mean comments bubbled on your lips, but you settled for silence. You didn’t even know what you’d done to end up here. Sass would most definitely only make it worse.
Jack tapped the side of his thigh twice, and you nodded once. A silent reassurance you were still okay.
“Kitten, I bought you a present,” Jack said, pulling a box into view. It was small, and you desperately hoped it wasn’t a punishment for some action you couldn’t remember. “Do you want to know what it is?”
You nodded, wiggling in your cuffs, feeling the leather straps criss-crossing your body shift.
Jack tutted, setting his hat on the corner of the divider. He leaned in close, examining you with dark eyes. “Use your words,” he commanded slowly.
“Yes,” you rasped out, voice quiet from lack of recent use. “Yes sir, please.”
Jack’s lips curled in a triumphant smile. “Good kitten,” he purred, flicking open his pocket knife and startling you slightly. But he didn’t press the blade to your skin, merely dragged it along the tape on the box.
Your heart began to beat faster as Jack revealed your gift. It was the most beautiful collar you’d ever seen, made of fine black leather and lined with soft black fur. It had two D rings on the front and a locking clasp on the back, although that wasn’t what excited you. No, what excited you was the large silver bell dangling from the middle of the collar.
Jack shook the bell, causing it to jingle cheerily. “Do you want this?” He asked. “Does my kitten want to be collared?”
“Yes sir!” You were certain you’d never answered him faster, your heart beating wildly in your chest.
Chuckling, Jack hummed, reaching down the front of his smooth black shirt and pulling out a necklace with a thin silver key. He slipped the key into the clasp on your current collar, the slim work-appropriate collar sliding away and being immediately replaced by the new one, the bell chiming as it lay to rest on your throat.
“There,” Jack hummed softly, flicking the bell. “Now I can find my kitten no matter where they go.”
Dread filled your belly. “Sir?” He wasn’t going to punish you for that, was he? It was a month ago, and he’d already chewed you out for it.
“You know what I mean.” Jack’s voice turned into a low growl. “Don’t you kitten?”
“I-“ You couldn’t answer, tears burning your throat. “Yes sir.” Your words were slow, raspy and quiet as you fought back tears.
Jack hesitated, waiting for you to compose yourself. He put a hand on your shoulder, tapping gently, and when you nodded back, he stepped away. “You know what you’ve done,” he said. “And you know that there are consequences for disobeying me, especially when you could be hurt.”
You nodded. “Yes sir.”
“Do you know how many times I called your name in that forest?” Jack asked, slowly removing his belt and causing your face to go cold as the blood drained from it.
“No sir.”
“Fifteen times.” The belt buckle clattered as Jack removed his belt and laid the buckle in his hand. “You know what that means.”
“Yes sir.” As you spoke, you shook your head twice. Jack nodded once, setting his belt down and instead picking up an ornate paddle.
Jack stood beside the couch, undoing your cuffs and laying them to the side. “On your belly,” he growled, and you rubbed your wrists for all of two seconds before you flipped over, making room for Jack as he sat on the couch. You slowly lay across his lap, instinctively trying to grab for the pillow that wasn’t there. Jack’s hands smoothed across your skin, readjusting you as he saw fit. Your lip trembled, waiting for the inevitable punishment.
“Count,” came Jack’s firm command, and you nodded, your words stuck in your throat.
A harsh smack came, the sting of the paddle on your ass reverberating through your whole body as you yelped, a shaking whine following the squeak of surprise. As your body bucked forward with the force of the smack, your bell bounced against your neck, ringing out cheerfully. “One!”
Jack leaned down low towards your ear, his voice a dangerously smooth purr. “Say my name,” he drawled, another smack coming down on the other side of your ass.
“Two!” You panted. “Jack.”
Jack hummed his approval. “Louder,” he decided, smacking your ass yet again.
“Three!” You shouted, hands scrambling for something, anything, to hold. “Jack!”
“That’s a good kitten.” Jack’s praise warmed your belly right before he dropped it to the floor with a harsh smack to the sensitive tops of your thighs.
This time, your words were breathy and stuttering, trying to push past the pulsing in your body. “F-four! Jack!”
With the next smack, Jack didn’t say a single word, only rested his other hand on the small of your back, pushing you closer against his legs to control your bouncing.
“Five!” Your core was starting to heat, a distinct wetness gathering below your waist. “Jack!”
Jack paused, his hand abandoning the paddle to grip your thigh, causing you to gasp as his fingers dug into your flesh. “Is my kitten enjoying this?” He asked, fingers moving over the slick patch of skin and pressing against the soaked spot on your underwear. “Are you?”
“N-no sir,” you promised.
Jack chuckled, ripping your underwear off you. Internally, somewhere beyond pain and punishment, you sighed. Those had been expensive, and now they were expensive in three different pieces on Jack’s office floor. His hand smoothed over your ass, and you could feel the warmth difference between your mildly abused skin and his hand.
Jack lifted his hand, bringing it back down swiftly and causing you to bite back a scream. Jack’s office was soundproofed to a certain degree, but your screams could definitely be heard down the hall. “Six!“ Your voice was whiny, pitched loud with need. “Jack!” You all but moaned his name, the high volume definitely audible just beyond the door.
A growl came from behind you, and you yelped as Jack grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled your head back. “Do you want the whole building to know what we’re doing in here, hm?” Jack taunted. “Do you want them to know you’re all mine? That only I get to punish my kitten like this?” His other hand snaked around your throat, disrupting your bell and causing it to ring.
You nodded against Jack’s hands. “Yes sir,” you said softly. “Yes I do.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jack smirk. “Alright then kitten,” he said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The next few snacks came in quick succession, all with the flat of the paddle. You gasped, Jack’s firm grip on your hair never relinquishing. “Seven,” you moaned when you finally composed yourself just a tad. “Eight! Nine! Jack!” You drew out the vowel on Jack’s name, trying to shift on his leg for any sort of friction you could get, anything to relieve the burn in your belly.
Jack delivered another smack to your thighs, and you gasped, feeling the coil in your stomach wind ever so tighter. “Ten!” You all but screamed. “Jack please!”
“Hush up!” Jack demanded. “You don’t get to ask for anything!” He smacked your ass again, this time with his hand.
“Eleven!” You said shakily, voice low as you bypassed pleasure and began to feel nothing but overstimulation. Every pulse of your heart sent a beat through your body, and you whimpered in the back of your throat. Tears burned the corners of your eyes, and your entire ass stung like you’d sat on a live wire. It was all too much, even the tiniest sounds and touches grating against your senses, but you didn’t want to give up now. “Jack.” Your voice was no longer a shout of budding ecstasy, and instead came out in a near whisper of pain. But you couldn’t disappoint him. Not now.
“Do you know how worried I was?” Jack asked harshly, smacking you again. “I thought you were dead!”
“Twelve!“ you were sobbing now, tears rolling down your cheeks. You couldn’t find the energy to say Jack’s name anymore. He didn’t seem to care.
“You scared me!” Jack said, his voice filled with an anger you’d never heard before. “Do you understand that? That because of you, I was scared!” He smacked you again, and you hiccuped, the chiming of the bell around your neck the tipping point. The high noise broke you, causing you to let out one loud, broken sob.
“Mint!” You screamed, collapsing and feeling nothing but pain, hearing nothing but the blood roaring in your ears. “Mint!”
Instantly, Jack’s demeanor changed. His grip on your hair loosened, and he bent down to set the paddle carelessly on the floor and grab a pillow for you to hold.
“Good job kitten,” Jack praised sweetly, flipping you over and kissing your cheeks, kissing away your tears. “You did so well for me, my love, so well. I’m so proud of you.”
You gasped, gripping Jack’s neck and burying yourself in the shoulder of his black shirt. “I’m sorry!” You wailed, body wracked with sobs. “I’m so sorry!”
Jack hugged you close, undoing your collar and the harness still squeezing your chest. “I know,” he promised. “I forgive you kitten. I know you didn’t mean to make me worry.”
While you continued to cry, Jack cradled you gently, carrying you off to the bathroom. By the time you were completely spent of tears, he had a nice warm bath set up for you, and you sniffled one last time before he sunk your body beneath the bubbles.
You sighed out, watching Jack remove his shirt and grab a bottle of oil from your aftercare cabinet. He also grabbed a small water bottle and a sandwich baggie full of chocolate covered pretzels. Passing you the food and drink, he dragged a stool behind the tub, sitting on it and rolling his sleeves up.
“Are you feeling okay?” He asked gently, his voice soft as he watched you drink small sips of water. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You shook your head, hearing Jack’s sigh of relief behind you. He opened the oil bottle, spreading some onto his hands before digging them into your hair, massaging away the tingling he left behind when he pulled on your hair. You moaned, low and pleased, and leaned up into Jack’s hands. He chuckled, tipping your head back and kissing your forehead. “Eat your food,” he murmured, smiling when you did, the chocolate on the pretzel melting in your mouth.
Your bath lasted an hour, during which you pretty much fell asleep, listening to Jack clean his office and finish his paperwork. You almost regretted doing this at work. You wanted nothing more than to lay on Jack’s bed right now, surrounded by his pillows and blankets.
“Kitten?” Jack’s voice broke you from your lull.
“Yeah?”
Jack stood beside the tub, holding a towel. “C’mon,” he said. “It’s time to get out.”
You sighed, standing and letting Jack take your hands. He helped you balance as you stepped out of the tub, wrapping you in the soft towel and kissing your nose. “I love you.”
“Love you more,” you yawned, leaning in towards Jack’s touch. “I wanna go home.”
“We can go home,” Jack promised, grabbing a smaller towel to help you towel your hair dry. “Right after this. You wanna nap in my bed?”
You nodded. “Yes please.”
Jack kissed your forehead. “You know I’m not still mad at you for what happened, right?” He asked softly, wrapping you in a loose hug.
“Yeah,” you said. “I know. Still feel guilty.”
“Don’t,” Jack said, his voice rumbling in his chest. “I was never mad. Just worried about you. I thought I’d lost you.”
You shook your head. “Y’ain’t gonna lose me that easy cowboy,” you said with a mischievous smile. “I’m here to stay for a long time.”
Jack’s smile in return comforted you, warming you to your very core. “I know,” he said. “I know.”
Warnings: Kingsman type violence, jack comes with how own warning always, cute fluffy fluffiness (it’s jack and its me so duh), a man being an asshole to reader and touching her ass unwanted, exhibitionism, semi public sex but not really, sex on the hood of the bronco, p in v sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, jack’s filthy mouth, this is so hot and I hope that’s all the warnings
Word Count:1,747
Summary: When Reader sees Jack in action for the first time it makes her just a little flustered and by a little I mean a lot.
Author’s Notes: So two separate ideas that ended up coming together as one and my goodness did it make for a smutty and fun ride. I hope you all enjoy this one because I sure loved writing it. Big thanks as always to @clint-aww-no-barton and all my readers who support in anyway at all. I love y'all and get ready because soon there will be something big coming your way.
The sun had yet to fully set, but it was starting its course. It cast a golden glow across the wooden surface under your elbows and across the matching floor your feet rested on. You threw your head back, a laugh bubbling up from your belly and releasing, almost too loudly, at what Jack had just said. He was telling you a story about how Tequila had gotten his ass handed to him today by new recruits, and you couldn’t help laughing.
Jack had come home from work and declared the two of you were going out. Neither of you had been hungry yet, so you went to the small bar in town. The two of you had met here and it had become a place for the two of you, to sit and enjoy each other like a date, without all the fancy.
You loved these moments. They took you back and made those butterflies, only Jack could give you, running wild in your stomach. You always say in the same booth, from the first night you met. Jack would do everything to keep you smiling or laughing the whole time. You knew he loved this as much as you did.
“It was by far the best thing I had seen all day. It had all of us rolling,” Jack let out a laugh before taking a sip of his drink.
“I wish I could have seen it. But don’t think I won’t give him a hard time, every single time I see him now.”
Jack and you both laughed and you followed him, taking a sip from your own drink.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom.”
“Hurry back Honeybee,” he threw you a wink, took your hand, kissing the top of it before you got up.
“Of course,” you paused and leaned over giving him a quick kiss, before walking towards the small hallway that housed the bathrooms.
You were just about to cross under the entrance to the hallway when you felt a hand on your ass. You spun around with pure shock on your face, to see a man smirking at you.
“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here at this time?” He slurred his words.
His few friends sitting at the bar, six of them, all laughed. You glared at him and just when you opened your mouth to shoot a witty remark back at him, you were interrupted.
“First off she’s not a thing and second, she’s with me.”
Jack stood there anger thundering across his face. He still wore his full work gear, including his weapons. You felt a slight bit of panic, as each man stood up rage on their faces and turned toward your boyfriend.
“Honeybee step back in the hallway for me, will you?”
You simply nodded and stepped back but you still had a full view of the small bar, and the fight that was most likely about to go down. You had been told stories several times about how good of an agent Jack was, how he could handle himself in a fight, but never once had you seen him in action.
“Seven against one?” The man who had grabbed you laughed.
“I like those odds,” Jack smirked and then they charged.
You stood there in pure amazement as Jack pulled out his lasso and used it to his advantage.
He dropped a few men, before slinging one on the booth the two of you had previously been sitting at. Then he reached for his whip in a smooth movement and within a few more quick minutes all of the men were laying on the ground groaning. The bartender came up, mouth almost wider than yours and looked at the damage.
“I do apologize for the mess, ma’am. I have some friends who will come to clear it all out and pay for the damages shortly.” Jack gave her a nod, his hand fixing his hat slightly.
She did nothing but shake her head and then look at you as you slowly came out from the hallway. You looked at the man you loved with wide eyes and gaping mouth in pure shock.
“You ready to go Honeybee?” Jack asked the question, like nothing had just happened.
You simply nodded your head and he held his hand out to you. You took it, looking up at him slightly awed, earning a chuckle from him. He helped you over the broken things and broken men all over the floor, then the two of you were out the door. He helped you into the bronco before sliding in.
“You did all of that like it was nothing.”
“Well it was nothing,” Jack chuckled as he started the truck.
“I…”
“Honeybee you okay?”
You looked at him and something new washed through you. You felt chills run up your back and you realized then, just how what you had seen affected you.
“I have never been more turned on by you than I am right now.”
Jack’s face lit up with a look you knew too well. He smirked, a twinkle in his eyes as he looked you over like he hadn’t already been looking at you for the past few hours.
“Then why don’t I take you home and fix that?”
You simply nodded and as he backed out, his free hand finding it’s home on your thigh.
The drive was already a long one, but it felt like it was taking years to get back to your house in the middle of nowhere. His hand had been traveling up and rubbing idly at your clothed thigh and it was setting you on fire.
“Jack pull over.”
He looked at you with shock but did just ask you asked. Luckily there was a small road that led into the woods nearby, and he pulled into it enough that no one would pay any mind if they did happen to drive by.
“Can’t wait till we get home huh?”
“No,” you panted looking at him.
His hand moved up further and his eyes locked on yours before he brushed over your center. You might as well had been naked. It pulled a moan from you and you bucked your hips slightly.
“Get out.”
That demanding voice made you clench and you scrambled to do as you were told. You met Jack at the front of the truck and he wasted no time grabbing you and smashing your lips against his. It was a hungry and needy kiss that sent you reeling.
“Why did we get out?” You asked confused and panting.
“Because I’m going to throw you over the hood and fuck you until you can’t speak.”
Your eyes widened and Jack turned you around quickly. He pushed you with enough force to make a point and your hands went to the hood. He was so close you could feel his heart pounding behind you. He took one hand and jerked your head back so his lips could crash back to yours before his hands started down your body. He didn’t waste much time before he was ripping your pants and panties down your legs, exposing your lower half. He reached forward and brushed a finger through your slit.
“Fuck you’re soaking wet angel. All of this cause of what you got to see back there? Hmm?”
“Yes Jack,” you panted and then let out a moan, looking into his eyes, pleading with him with a desperate look.
“You want to do this?”
“Yes Jack. Please,” you begged.
He simply smirked before he worked himself out of his pants. His hands gripped at your hips and he situated you, before he slammed into you. You let out a load moan your eyes closing and your head going down on the hood in front of you. One hand stayed on your hip while the other laced through your hair to jerk your head up. He started to pound into you with hard thrusts that made you so dizzy with pleasure, you had to plead with your body not to let go yet.
“Look at you bent over my hood, my cock hilt deep in you and anyone could see if they drove by. But you don’t care do you angel?”
“No!” You moaned loudly and pitifully.
He let go of your hair and you turned into jelly. He wrapped his arms around you and his lips were back on yours as he pounded into you relentlessly. He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.
“Jack I’m close,” you panted tears gathered in your eyes.
“Then let go for me.”
With one hand back on your hip, the other reached down your front and started to make quick circles on your clit. You snapped and you let out a moan, your hand slamming on the hood as the pleasure ripped through you. Jack took his hand from your hip and grabbed your hand, before he tensed inside of you and followed you, groaning. He buried his face in your hair and whimpered and moaned in your ear. Your body faltered and he had you in his arms in moments, both of you panting and trying to regain yourselves.
“Holy shit,” you breathed before you let out a chuckle, eyes closed and your head resting on Jack’s shoulder.
“Holy shit indeed,” Jack smirked down at you and your eyes fluttered opened slowly seeing his brown eyes watching you.
“Hey there Honeybee,” he bent down and kissed you gently, as he left you.
“Hey cowboy,” you breathed, before the both of you let out a whimper at the loss of each other.
You both chuckled and helped each other fix yourselves back. With shaky legs and Jack’s help he got you back in the car, before getting in himself.
“That was a first,” you laid your head back on the seat behind, you looking over at him.
“It was and it won’t be the last time.”
“Oh it won’t?” You spoke with amusement.
“Oh no honeybee. We have a lot of firsts ahead of us, but right now I’m taking you home and we are going to have round two in bed.”
“Why not round two here?” You moved to the middle sitting next to him as he backed out on the road and took off.
Summary: Jack’s on the job, but you’ve got the night off.
A/N:This is a quick little drabble in response to the Writer Wednesday prompt. This lives in the same ‘verse as my other little Jack drabble, Weapon of Mass Destruction. Aaaaaaaand since there’s four little one-shots with this couple, I guess I have an unintended series going with these two, jumping around out of order. This one would come after Mass Destruction, but before Bare Skin Rug.
