#I just don’t feel the need to throw my hat into the fucking clown rodeo that saps your soul like the dark crystal

[sunnibits]

literally do not understand why people will come on this website and actively engage in activities that are Not Fun. like why would you do that. what is the appeal. this is the website where you’re supposed to only do Fun Things on your specifically tailored Fun Blog. why do you people not like Having Fun. does it give you joy to write discourse essays or argue with people or send hateful anons??? is that fun for you?????? I just genuinely don’t get it. why would you do it if it’s not Fun

#ok I admit this is ab the amount of discourse I see about ofmd 😶 don’t kill me #but like. can y’all just chill for TWO seconds #it’s a fucking. silly comedic pirate show #why do you people spend so much time and energy arguing with people over the moral ethics of the pirate show it’s so funny #but also exhausting to witness #it’s one thing to engage critically with a piece of media #it’s another thing to just overanalyze everything and argue 24/7 #you are allowed to have critical and nuanced opinions like. in your head. and not argue with people about them #just bc I limit my blog to only Fun Posts doesn’t mean I don’t have complex opinions ab the characters and shit #I just don’t feel the need to throw my hat into the fucking clown rodeo that saps your soul like the dark crystal #I think there’s a difference between having critical discussions about media and trying to analyze it deeper #and like. just making things up to get mad about #I’m not saying we should never engage in debate ever I just don’t understand the urge to engage in discourse that’s not actually meaningful #like y’all realize you could just Not Do That right?????

[dinthehottotty]

Drunk on You - Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

Warnings: Just some smutty drabble inspired by a new toy....

A/N: I wrote this on mobile so sorry I don't have the drop down bit. Also go gentle on me, this is my first Whiskey piece....

No. No, no. No, no, no, no. Nonononononono! This... could not be happening. Mortification was creeping in. Shame was shuffling from the corner of the hotel room.

It had taken ten minutes for you to begin to realize the weight of the situation. Still you couldn't bare looking to your right. If your legs could just stop shaking, that would be great.

You were a grown woman. An adult. Always prided yourself on your own efficiency. You got the job done, and done right no matter the energy and time. You did it independently for the most part, that's why you'd been hired by Statesmen to begin with. You were an amazing spy with a nerve of steel.

There was only one thing that ever got to you. Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels. What an asshole. You'd never met such a surecocked, womanizing, smug bastard man. He pissed you off so much. You never used to let his advances bother you, but somehow over the years he wiggled his way under your skin. Now a single look from him made you seeth and bristle like a wild animal.

Your pride was now wiped away like a dry erase board. Your mind slowly is beginning to gain its bearings while you tremble in a puddle of your own fluids on your hotel bed. The light of the lamp next to you is a reminder of your vulnerability.

Sparing a glance to your right, everything about you is slow and hesitant. Jack is lounging beside you comfortably, a satisfied smirk coating his face. He's got his eyes closed, his fingertips tapping the air with a song you've got no idea about. He looks almost peaceful in the warm light of the dimmed lamp. And it would be if his stupid porn 'stache wasn't tilted up in a cocky smirk.

Your stomach chooses this inopertune moment to gurgle loudly. Weird, you swore the nausea was due to the naked rodeo clown beside you. Weirder yet, he almost looked good without his yellow sunglasses and cowboy hat. Less like a want to be country music star and more like a Latin lover.

His head lolls your way and his eyes bulldoze you with his thrilled smirk. Even in the low, unflattering light his brown eyes are warm and remind you of the warm gooeyness that is sliding from between your legs. You want it to not feel good, but your so boneless from the last... fuck, you don't even know how long it's been.

"Worked yerself up an appetite, did ya, darlin'?" Your only response is to gulp and you have to look away from him. A shiver rolls through you and he chuckles.

That's the worst part of this. Not the fact that you actually caved and slept with the sleeze of man, not the fact that he was the only person you genuinely hated in regards to company. No, the worst part of this, was how wrecked he had you. Jack Daniels is singlehandedly the best lay you've had in your life and it wasn't even hate sex.

Granted you should be screaming at him to get the fuck out of your hotel room and raging that he barged in on you in the first place.

Ginger had been so polite in regards to leaving you in the room by yourself for a bit. Laughing as you called after her 'if there is an emergency, don't call me, get the boys!' And then you forgot to turn on airplane mode.

It wasn't that Statesmen couldn't afford two rooms for you both. Instead, she was your near and dear friend and missions served as your sleepovers. You'd both spend free moments giggling and gossiping about the other agents. And also your sex lives and preferences. Also, your newest toy that you hadn't gotten to try.

A tiny egg with a little tongue and suction on it. The catalyst. You'd been prepared when your eyes and ears left to give a good review only to very quickly discover just how delightful and overwhelming the little tool was.

Too aware of how Whiskey was leaning over you with a grin, you suddenly feel nervous. "Don't tell me I fucked the sass out of you, sweetheart. I do love that wicked tongue you've got." He thumbs your lower lip and you find your self holding in panting. For fucks sake it took you nearly ten minutes to stop after he'd finally rolled off you.

It's pitiful that you just let out a tiny whine, pushing weakly at his chest. It makes his grin deepen, his dimples practically shining. "Don't go soft on me now, girl."

"Need minute," you finally rasp, voice hoarse. He leans down, shocking you with a hungry pass of his mouth over yours.

You should want to fight him, but your mind feels as boneless as your body.

There is a noise. A beep of the door unlocking with the card swiped.

Ginger is back.

She still knocks, bless her heart. It's like Whiskey doesn't even notice, instead just drawing his mouth over your jaw and tasting your neck lazily. He must know. Either he thinks it's housekeeping or he just doesn't give a fuck.

"Rosé?" She calls out from the hallway by the door. "I hope I gave you enough lead time to try-" she gasps as she rounds the corner and finds you wrapped up with a man you despise. "Oh, lord! What even happened?" She averts her wide eyes and Whiskey chuckles warmly over you.

"Decommissioned," you rasp out, complete mush under the mouthing at your neck. "Sorry." Teeth appear and your vaguely aware that Whiskey is laughing with delight against you.

He lifts enough to flash a grin at Ginger.

"You hate him! What do you mean 'decommissioned'?" She throws her hands up.

"What's the racket?" Eggsy calls, strutting in with Gallahad. Both of them freeze at the sight of you practically preening under the warm body over you. "No fuckin' way," the kid demands when Whiskey jerks the blankets up around your naked form.

"Now, I don't mind the company, but if you boys want a show, I suggest you go find the HBO channel back in your respective rooms. The lady is going to need a hot meal and a nice nap before she goes anywhere." You don't even register that you're nodding along with his statement.

"No way you bagged Rosé," Eggsy demands. "She looks drugged!" The heat of a big calloused hand rolls up over your side under the sheet and you let your eyes fall shut. Ginger just shakes her head like a disappointed mother.

"Not drugged," you manage to offer. It earns you a happy purr from the smug agent above you and he rolls a hand between your legs unabashedly. Your still too sensitive and jerkily shove his hand, gasping. "Out, please," you murmur, no bite to your words as a warm mouth finds the hollow behind your ear.

Ginger quickly agrees, shuffling quickly out of the room. Eggsy, even with Gallahad's prompting tries to stick around, giving you shit until the mouth leaves your neck.

"The lady politely requested you leave. Find the door, boy." He snarls like a caged animal and it sends warmth down belly. You find yourself uncaring and unfurling beneath him as Eggsy is lead out of the room.

"Hungry," you moan, trying to glower when he goes to reposition and settle between your thighs. It earns you a cocky grin.

"Atta girl!" You don't know what you expect, but it's hardly him pulling your legs up and proping them over his shoulders while he reaches for the phone.

You both moan when he sinks into you, wettly and just as easily as before. "Fuck, feel so good, baby." And he leans over, picking up the phone and dialing. There is ringing as he cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear, rolling his hips forward. He's rewarded with the obnoxiously loud squelch that accompanies his thrusts. "What sounds good to eat?" Whiskey asks as you pant and writhe beneath him like his cock isn't stretching you beyond capacity.

"Everything," you gasp out.

"Could you send us the works? Whatever you've got on special." You can't pay attention to anything else he says, in the back of your mind your mind you know your a mess.

It's when you hear the tiny motor start that your hand is jerking down and your snatching his wrist. "Jack, no, I can't-" you rasp as you stop his hand from bringing the little egg down on your clit.

"Why not?" But it doesn't actually sound like a question and his eyes are glinting down on you.

"Is too much, hurts."

"You weren't complaining earlier."

"Overstimulated." He gives a growl, shutting the vibrator off before hauling your knees into the crook of his arms. It has you moaning unabashedly as he changes angles, stirring the pace up.

"Feels so good, oh fuck, feels good. Don't stop, please don't stop, always wanna be full, fill me up please." What kind of effect was this? You never babbled.

"What a good girl," he rumbles, "finally giving into how desperate she's been for me. Do you want to cum around me again?" He watches you falling apart beneath him, a complete wreck.

"Can't, can't cum. Felt like I was cumming the whole time that toy was on my clit. Hurts." A hand rubs down your belly, a direct path to the heaven between your legs that he's still fucking. You scramble for his wrist again but he's stronger and you let out a cry as he brushes a knuckle over your swollen and abused clit. It just makes him chuckle when you arch off the pillow below your hips.

Your so wet that it's coating your thighs and making him glide against you like your coated in oil. Everything was wet and warm.

"C'mon girl, don't tell me yet that I've won?" He rasps. There is a need that builds up at those words. An anger as you manage some kind of weak glare up at him. You fumble for him.

You intend fully on crushing his mouth against yours and devouring him in response to his quip. It seems to surprise you both when your lips move more tenderly than either of you anticipate.

Whiskey goes stiff in your arms, fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. There's a moment you think you've killed the mood but then he's sink down against you and tenderly kissing you back.

It's not unexpectedly fun and wild like the rest of this desperate affair has been. Instead, his hips roll slow and smooth, no rush or reason beyond just feeling you. The heat of him consumes you as you breathe into each other's mouths, drinking the other in and soaking in hot hands.

"Shoulda done this sooner," you manage against his mouth and feel his chuckle rumble you both.

"Offers been there," he groans. "Spend the night in my room," he pleads gently. It has you shivering.

"Okay," you sigh, mush beneath the fulfilling stretch he was giving. He could ask you to kill Eggsy here and now and you'd probably say yes. Just as long as this never ended. You were drunk on Whiskey.

#jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels #agent whiskey #kingsman #statesmen #kingsman the golden circle #smut #unedited #jack daniels x reader #whiskey #whiskey x you #whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x reader

[writer-rochelle]

Statesman: Ablaze  Ch.2: Off the Grid

(a/n: here is chapter 2 of the one thing im super frickin proud of. thank you @pomelloe-me​ for bullying me in our shared google doc to make sure i get things done. ily <3)

“Can you leave the window down? My car smells like fucking fried chicken, and while it may be your fave food it's not mine.” Alicia said, shutting her car engine off. Pom chuckled, obliging her friend’s request. Both women stretched, their joints popping, as they clambered out of the small car and started their walk up the small driveway. 

The Agents had opted to live as far away from the brewery as they could, wanting to make a safe and work free environment for them to escape to. It was a pale green  3 story victorian house with white accents, and a small front porch. Two white rocking chairs moved slightly in the wind, and a white porch swing on the far right end swayed with them. A black and white rip n dip doormat sat under a black double front door, the words "go away" floated next to a white cat flipping any visitors off. A purchase Pom had made while online shopping in the wee early hours of the night. One that Alicia and Dena had found rather hilarious and Carey had simply shaken her head. 

“I’m gonna murder your boyfriend, he’s as dumb as a fucking rock, I swear it!” Alicia exclaimed, walking towards the front door of the shared home, twisting her head this way and that in a vain attempt to pop her still stiff neck.  She could hear Pom curse at her under her breath. “What was that? Use your words miss ma’am” Alicia teased, knowing Tequila was a nuisance for Pom. He had been Alicia's friend first, and one-day on a whim she had invited them to a carnival accompanying the rodeo that was in town. Soon, the three of them were inseparable. Tequila however soon developed feelings for Pom, his endless pining no secret to anyone. The ex-rodeo clown meant well, and when he wasn't trying to convince the southern beauty to go two-stepping with him, the two got along very well. 

“I said he ain’t my fuckin’ boyfriend,” Pom responded, she was frustrated but smiled all the same. She reciprocated the crush but put her job as a Statesman agent first. She refused to let anyone or anything jeopardize her career. The brunette removed the brown cowboy hat sitting on her head, using it to fan herself in the heat, waiting for Alicia to unlock the front door. 

“Whatever you say!” Alicia sang, throwing the door open. Pom followed the woman into the entryway, shutting and locking the door behind her. The smell of delicious food wafted towards where the two girls stood, as they began dispensing the arsenal of personal weapons they had into their designated shelves in the entryway. Pom hung her hat on the hook on the wall next to the door. Alicia groaned, taking her box braids out of the ponytail she had forced them into, massaging her scalp. 

"I don't know how you can stand having those things pulled back like that!" Pom said, emptying her pistols before placing them back in their holsters. 

"Trust me, one I'm gonna shave my head, and I only kept them in because I spent so much on them for that one assignment. Why waste money? Carey Ann, is that your cooking I smell?" Alicia called, making her way further into the house. She paused a moment, kicking her shoes off in the mudroom off to the left. 

“Yup! I’m in the kitchen, y’all! Make sure you leave your shoes in that mudroom, I just swept!”’ Carey called out to them from the direction of the kitchen. 

Whatever she had been making since she had come home had made the house warm and cozy, the warmth of the oven lightly combating the aircon. Carey was the oldest of the four women living in that house. She had recently moved to New York, assisting Agent Whiskey in running the New York office. Occasionally, she would return to their humble abode in Kentucky. Most household responsibilities fell on her, their other roommate Dena had been away for almost a year on assignment in Europe seeking out an alleged brother agency. Usually, Pom and Alicia were left to their own devices, sticking to take-out orders, or the occasional soup and grilled cheese combo Alicia cooked up. It wasn't often Alicia or Pom cooked, let alone cleaned. It was nice to have their Agent Mom back in town.  

Pom hastily unzipped the sides of her boots, sliding them off to reveal her cute space patterned socks, ‘The best feeling ever is taking your shoes off after a fuckin’ long day of work.’ she thought to herself. Pom’s hair stuck up in odd angles, no secret the hat that had been resting on her head all day. She combed her fingers through it, the brown tresses fell to her shoulders in thick, uncontrollable waves. 

“It’s good to see you here, and not on a fucking screen, ma’am.” Alicia snooped through the pots on the stove, hungrily eyeing Carey’s homemade fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, and mac & cheese warming idly on the stove. Alicia only two kinds of southern cooking, her Grandma Beaulah's, and Carey's (a close second).  

"Yeah, bitch. I thought you might have forgotten about us.” Pom called out from the living room, where she had placed herself comfortably down on the couch, flicking through something on her phone. She sighed, still no response from Whiskey. Had she upset him without realizing it? ‘Fuckin’ Whiskey, I wish he could’ve told me instead of ignoring me like a dumbass.’ she thought, shutting off her phone and tossing it to the other end of the couch.

“Well, if y’all acted 24 and 25 years old and not little children, you wouldn’t need me to come home to cook and clean for y’all. Dena hasn’t even been here and she still keeps her room clean!” Carey teased, swatting Alicia’s hands away from the food. Even if she had been present, Dena and Carey were definitely the neatest of the four. Carey had tried in vain to get the other two younger women to help, even going so far as to leave everything to pile up. It had taken a roach crawling across Alicia's face one night in her sleep to finally get them to step up. Now they kept a chore list on a dry erase board in the laundry room, and the katsaridaphobic agent no longer left dirty dishes in her room. 

“Girl, they’re clean. And for the record, Pom and I do take care of ourselves! For example, I did all the laundry in the house and Pom got rid of that possum that was living in the roof. Perfectly responsible.” Alicia said smugly, giggling as Pom chimed in quietly from her spot on the couch about the ‘Cunt ass possum that tried to eat her fucking face even though she had given him a slice of ham as a fucking peace offering headass’. 

“Pom, why don’t you come join us instead of mumbling with your colorful vocabulary from the couch; the food is ready.” Carey laughed, shaking her head at her roommate's antics. She grabbed the rolls out the oven, before removing her apron and oven mitts. She moved to pull a pitcher of sweet tea out of the fridge, and then stood back proudly to admire her work. Dinner was served. 

“You sound like my fuckin’ mom,” Pom uttered as she hoisted herself up from the couch, making her way into the kitchen to wash her hands. 

“I may as well be. But enough bickering, I missed y'all two!” Carey said, carrying her plate of food to the table where Alicia already sat eating. 

“I’m not really hankerin’ for anything, but thanks, Carey. I love you…fuck head.” Pom told Carey with her unique version of affection, leaning against the island in the kitchen and removing her rusty-colored jacket from her body. Pom's jokes and colorful nicknames were her own brand of love, and while it was offputting the first time she called you something like "hoe bag", you learned to acknowledge the underlying "I love you".  

“Well at least stay and sit with us, I’ve got something to tell y’all,” Carey said, patting the chair next to her. She needed to tell somebody about how she and Jack had recently started seeing each other. She figured he had already told Tequila, and felt justified in telling the girls. Pom sat down in the chair with a grunt after placing her jacket on the table. 

“Oh do tell, this wouldn’t happen to do with a certain mustached cowboy would it?” Alicia batted her eyelids, and suggestively wiggled her eyebrows. Pom knew exactly what this conversation was going to lead to. She wasn’t a fucking idiot; she noticed every small exchange between Carey and Whiskey, it was just something she had an eye for. The two had known each other for over two years and had recently started to go out with each other seriously. It was a wonder they hadn't started fooling around sooner.

“W-well...about that” Carey giggled nervously, maybe she wouldn’t tell them after all. 

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Carey Ann! Are you fucking Ole Jack Daniels?!” Alicia exclaimed, pointing her fork accusingly at the shorter Agent. Pom couldn’t help herself from letting out a loud chuckle, moving her long legs to sit cross-legged on the chair. 

“Alright, fine. Whiskey and I may or may not have been seeing each other exclusively for the past year while I’ve been back and forth from New York.” Carey said, casually taking a sip from her glass of tea, the clinking ice cubes being the only sound for a brief moment. 

“I fuckin’ knew it!” Agent Rum pronounced with great amusement, looking over at Carey with a menacing smile. 

“YAS BITCH, OH MY GOD! Tell us everything, and I do mean everything!” Alicia said, standing up and playfully pulling Carey into a noogie. 

The girls laughed, Carey pushed Alicia back into her chair before smoothing out her blonde curly hair. Carey was glad that the girls hadn’t reacted negatively like she thought they would. She had missed this comradery with the girls while staying in New York; she leaned forward fully retelling everything that had been happening. It was nice to finally be home. 

* * * * * 

Pom Graham was awake earlier than the rest of her housemates, as usual. Most nights she would stay up until midnight listening to her favorite kinds of music and trying to gain motivation to do her beloved hobby of painting. But she never slept for long as her natural body clock woke her up just a few short hours after she fell asleep. Still, she was always filled with so much energy. 

Pom tip-toed out of her room and down the flight of stairs in hopes of not waking her friends. She was already dressed in her usual outfit that the others rarely saw her out of. The living space downstairs was decorated with rustic, but comfortable furniture and pots of greenery scattered around. Photographs and posters could be found on the walls. 

She threw herself on to the couch in front of the large, technologically advanced television. With a press of a button on the remote, the screen came to life with the morning news channel. ‘Boring.’ Pom thought, ‘Carey must have been watching it last.’

“The daughter of beloved Kentucky senator, Xavier Dobios, is still missing and it’s sending everybody into quite the state of distress…..” Said the monotone voice of the news reporter on the TV. Pom scoffed at his words. 

“Fuck off, ‘beloved my ass’” Pom returned in a sharp whisper, smiling with amusement. She clicked another button and the kid’s channel started to play. Pom never really liked to watch television, but when she did, she would always turn on the channel that entertained her most.

“Good morning, Pomegranate.” Came Carey’s sweet but groggy voice from the doorway leading into the kitchen. Carey was dressed in cute, pink pajamas and her hair was quite the mess. She let out a big yawn. 

“Mornin’, you’re up early,” Pom responded, turning her head to give Carey a nice smile. Carey walked back into the kitchen to start preparing coffee and breakfast for herself and her housemates. 

“What do you want for breakfast? And I know you don’t like coffee, so what do you want to drink?” Carey asked from the kitchen to Pom. She sat there thinking for a moment before answering. 

“Peanut butter toast. And some water. Bless your heart, Carey.” Pom returned gently. Carey was surprised to see how calm she was. She was used to seeing the hot-tempered, mischievous, and swearing version of Pom. But she appreciated seeing this side to her too because Carey knew that’s who she really is. Pom never failed to make her laugh and smile. 

Carey made food and coffee with the sound of Pom watching the kid’s channel playing in the background. Alicia probably wasn’t going to be awake for a few more hours but Carey poured her a cup of warm coffee just in case. 

“I don’t know how you have so much energy all the time, Pom,” Carey said as she sat on the couch next to Pom, handing her the plate of peanut butter toast and a glass of water. She sipped on her own cup of coffee just the way she liked it. 

“I’ve consumed so much fuckin’ sugar in my life that I’m constantly on a sugar high.” Pom joked to her friend, smiling. Carey laughed, the sound mixing the soft sounds of the old Victorian settling over them. It wasn’t often they got a morning to themselves, and they knew they’d have to head to work soon, but for now, HQ could wait.

“GOOD MORNING VIETNAM!” Alicia yelled, bounding in the kitchen shattering the quiet moment the girls had settled into with their breakfast. Carey and Pom sighed, watching as she effortlessly leaped onto the island in the middle of the kitchen. Her gray sweatpants slung low on her hips, her lilac sleep shirt wrinkled, and her braids still wrapped up in the bonnet on her head; she looked crazy.

“What in Sam Hill are you doing?!” Carey said, standing up and rushing to try and push the taller woman off. 

“I have some good news, bitches! Dena’s coming home sooner than we thought!” Alicia was elated, it had been almost two months since Agent Sangria had been in contact with Statesman, and more importantly her roommates. She had been advised to keep all communications, few and far in between. Should there be a brother agency, it would be in Statesman's best interest to not alert them of their presence in their territory; what if they were a rogue organization? The return of the lively Latina was definitely a cause for celebration. 

“Wait, how do you know?” Carey asked, realizing that Alicia wasn’t budging off her pedestal. She looked over at Pom who looked just as puzzled as she was, no one had any recent contact with Dena. Everything had been dark. Pom got off the couch to get closer to them.  

“Well, as y’all know, I spend most of my free time in the lab with Ginger. And I was able to create a concealable communication device!” Alicia said proudly, taking what looked like a normal bottle of concealer. But the girls knew better, Alicia was a crazy tech wiz and inventor. Her and Ginger both could put Tony Stark to shame.

“How does that shit even work… it’s fuckin’ makeup.” Pom questioned. She couldn’t remember the last time she had set foot in the lab, or the last time she wore makeup. Pom would rather be training and being troublesome with the male agents than behind a vanity or in a lab coat. 

“Listen, I know it looks a little out of sorts but I promise it works! And the cosmetic part of the contraption is fully functional.” Alicia opened the packaging and did a swatch of the makeup on her arm. A perfect match.

“Say we can’t take any phones or even our glasses with us? Who’s gonna suspect a woman with a compact mirror and bottle of concealer? The idea is we use the idea of the fragile female that men have created against them. But my feminist spiel aside, I talked to Dena and she should be here by the end of next week!” Alicia got down from the counter, slipping her “concealer” into the front pocket of her black backpack. 

Pom leaned against the counter as she smiled, "You’re a genius.” She said to Alicia softly.

“I’m no Ginger Ale, but I try! Also, I’ve been making a bat prototype for you in the lab! I meant to surprise you for your birthday but I can’t wait any longer.” Pom smiled at this. Alicia started to continue but paused. The Statesman designated ringtone grew louder from where it was playing on their tv. Well, duty calls.

The three agents made their way into the living room, Carey grabbing the remote from its spot on the ottoman. Once they had all settled themselves on the comfy couch, she pressed the answer button. 

“Good morning, Angels!” Champagne greeted; the great window behind his head visible on the tv screen. It wasn’t uncommon for Champ to contact them while they were at home; saving more discreet missions for the four of them to take care of. It saved time, resources, and quite frankly more lives than if they were to send Whiskey, Tequila, or any of the other male agents instead. Hence the moniker, “Angels”.

“Good morning, Champ!” Alicia crowed, shifting to sling her legs across Pom and Carey’s laps making herself comfortable. Pom hastily grabbed Alicia’s feet from her lap and started to tickle them with no remorse, and her loud and mischievous laughs filled the room. 

“Would y’all stop? Jesus Christ.” Carey said, pushing Alicia’s legs off the couch and inserting herself between her and Pom. “Sorry, Champ, continue please!” Carey said, turning her attention back to the man on the screen. Pom was holding back her laughter as best as she could. 

“Well, when y’all are done horsing around, I have something for y’all to take care of. As you know, the senator is hiding his daughter trying to make it seem like she’s been kidnapped. Tonight, he is hosting a gala to impress some of the big wigs in the country and gain more support. I need y’all to infiltrate the gala and expose this sun’ a bitch before he can carry this tomfoolery on any longer.” 

“Do I gotta dress all fancy and shit?” Pom asked, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. She had makeup, she hated dresses, and if she didn't hate her unruly hair getting in her face, she'd hate doing it too. 

“I would prefer it if you did. The senator is very conservative, and has a strict dress code for this event.” Champagne said. Pom sighed angrily at this. 

“Awe, c’mon, Pomegranate. I thought you liked playing dress up.” the screen expanded to show that none other than Agent Whiskey sat next to Champagne at the grand mahogany meeting room table. 

“Whiskey!” Pom exclaimed with joy. A big grin was on her face now. She tucked her messy waves of hair behind her ears. Pom could feel her heart racing with pure happiness. Whiskey was the closest thing she had to a father, and she practically glowed in his attention. 

“Howdy darlin’, you ready to join your old man on the dance floor?” Whiskey tipped his hat, grinning at the young agent. 

The adopted father and daughter duo were the best partnership to come out of Statesman; Whiskey having taken Pom under his wing, saying that he saw himself in her. A troubled girl who needed a little guidance and TLC, and had unfathomable potential. Whiskey had promised Pom’s mother that he would ensure that the young woman would be taken care of while she was in the states. A promise that had been well kept. 

“While I’m all for sappy reunions, I need you, girls, to get gussied up and make your way to that gala ASAP! I’m sending Whiskey to pick y’all up at 0800, We got a party to crash.” Champagne said, ending the video call. 

Alicia stood and looked at her phone, an invitation addressed to a Penelope Vontrapp, and associates lit up her screen. “Well Miss Pom, or should I say Miss Penelope; it looks like you get to play the part of the daughter of some rich oil tycoon.” 

“Fuck you, I’m not wearing any fuckin’ makeup!!” Pom said while jumping off the couch to sprint up to her room before the others could stop her. 

“YOU’RE LUCKY THEY’RE MAKING A BIG DONATION IN YOUR HONOR! OTHERWISE, I’D BE FORCING YOU INTO A DRESS AND PUTTING SOME BLUSH ON THOSE CHEEKS!” Alicia shouted up the stairs, knowing that Pom was going to put on the same suede pantsuit she wore to all Statesman functions. It would be a cold day in hell before anyone forced her into a dress, and Alicia knew better than to even try and wrestle her into one.  

“Will you curl my hair, please? May as well get some joy out of tonight.” Carey remarked, making her way up the stairs. Alicia noticed the sad air around her friend, she stopped reaching out to grab her friend's arm. 

“What’s wrong? You were all chipper early, now you’re all….” Alicia made a fart noise with her mouth, hoping it would bring a small smile to her Carey’s face. 

“It’s nothing, I promise. Just forget it, okay?” Carey pulled her arm away, continuing up the stairs. But it wasn’t really anything. Was it right for her to feel a little envious that Whiskey hadn’t acknowledged her? Had Champ told him something? Or was she just overthinking? Either way, they had a mission to focus on, and this worrying and pining could wait. 

(a/n: thank you all for reading and standing by while i get in the swing of things. i now have a masterlist, and post with who and what yall can request will be coming soon. <3 roach)

#Statesman:Ablaze #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x oc #agent tequila x reader #agent tequila x oc #agent whiskey fic #oc fic #jack daniels #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal #kingsman golden circle #statesman