#yes that’s redundant but i don’t care
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i know plenty of nonbinary people freely and comfortably use gendered labels like boyfriend and girlfriend with no threat to the security of their identity but i have never been one of those people i have always asked the people i’ve dated to use either partner or SO meaning exes who were both men and women but idk now that im exclusively and permanently dating women and men are totally out of the picture i find myself kind of…. softening? on things? like idk if im cool with someone calling me their girlfriend but at the very least it’s no longer an immediate hard no, i kind of like the idea of using all of them, girlfriend boyfriend partner SO all interchangeable, and i think i like the idea of being girlfriends with someone and being able to refer to myself and a potential partner as girlfriends. like, girlfriends?? are you kidding me? how fucking adorable is that? how sweet and special and enviable? the idea of even wives, eventually? the idea of a woman calling me her wife? idk kind of slays.
#i’ve noticed some shifts in how i relate to my gender since coming out as a lesbian a year and a half ago now#i’ve taken a more hardline stance on some things and relaxed on others#and the way i dress has certainly shifted#i never really expected myself to be particularly masc#even though i’ve been making efforts to express my masculinity and incorporate it into my gender presentation for years#idk i just always thought of myself as like a 60/40 femme to masc sort of vibe#maybe even 70/30#and now it feels like 70/30 in the other direction#i still like to wear makeup a lot of the time and i wear my hair long#i guess a lot of masc lesbians have long hair but they’re usually sports lesbians plus they all have pin straight hair for some reason#i am not athletic and my hair is either wavy or curly depending on the day and who you ask#but at this point every time i dress properly femme i feel like i’m wearing a costume#i find my style becoming more and more masculine progressively over time#yes that’s redundant but i don’t care#no one is reading all this lmfao#nor should they#nor would i particularly want them to#that’s not what this is for
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#izzy.txt★#also I’m kinda thinking I actually don’t wanna change my blog theme#every time I come in and see masktopher I’m happy#so hhhhhh I don’t think I’ll change to fnf I really still like this#it’s iconic and I wanna look at it all the time#i know like no one actually cares and i know the ppl around me will support me i was just like dang that poll was redundant#no guilt but ye I was like. welp HHHHH
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Vengeance (500 followers celebration!!)
The boat scene we deserved ;)
♡ ♡
Summary: Abby finds you drunk, hiding away on a boat. Will you leave your girlfriend and run off with your childhood love?
Warnings: smut, MDNI, dom!abby, sub!reader, hate sex, abby being possessive, cheating (tsk tsk don’t do this), fingering, slapping, slight overstimulation, dubcon since reader is drunk but consenting
A/N: so this is the overall winning poll for the celebration so I hope you all enjoy! I don’t think I’ve ever read boat scene for queer abby so I’m like lowkey scared if this is uncharted territory lmao. Also this like loosely?? Follows what happens in g2 but I just made it gay as fuck also unrealistic for the relationship dynamic but I! Don’t! Care! Okay bye!
♡ ♡
“Thought I’d find you here,” she looks disappointed, but knowingly. Of course she would find you here, where the fuck else would you have gone, home? There was no home.
“Ya’no he’ll kill you too for just coming to find me,” slurs out your mouth, you’d be drinking since dawn perhaps. Drinking every bit you have left, not like you’d have a rainy day in store for you come sunlight.
“I’ll take my chances…” she situates herself up on the bench with her forearms lazily cast over her thighs, “how much have you had to drink,” it’s not accusatory, more of a redundant question she knew the answer to before she’d ever taken off to find you.
You take another hefty swig straight from the dirty bottle, letting the lip knock against your teeth. “Fuck off,” you throw out at her, eyes cast on the doorway she had walked through, both dead men walking now.
“So you want to tell me what happened,” now she begins to pry, all the rumors she had heard, maybe they were true, but she thought she knew you better. Once she did, when she was yours, if you could even call it that. Perhaps unspoken puppy love, a trauma bond of sorts. Whatever it was, was over, not that you ever had the decency to tell her. You were with someone else now, whether it was right or not, it was your newfound reality.
“I’m not like you…” your gaze meets hers at last, the words trail off, she knew what she had heard was true. “I couldn’t fucking do it, she was pregnant, begged for me to spare her…the kid. You don’t understand what it’s like, my morals are fucked from those people. This isn’t us. This isn’t you.”
“You don’t think I’ve been put in fucked situations?”
“That’s my point abby, this is all fucked…” you throw your hands hazardously in the air that springs droplets of the honey liquor flying out. Your feet move on their own, bringing you into an upright position as you begin closing in on her, “we are all just chess pieces in their game, when will you understand that.”
She rises out of her seat to meet your stance, she was much stronger, much more intimidating than you could ever surmount to, but the honey liquid encouragement was working overtime. “So you’re just going to run off? you can’t escape this,” her words reek of venom now.
“Come with me,” it comes out as a plea, but confident in meaning. She lets out a scoff at your attempt, shaking her head at your scheme. “What you’re just going to leave her?” She didn’t need to give a name, a further explanation, you both knew the predicament well enough.
Would you leave her?
“Yes.”
“You’re a fucking ass you know that-“ she begins to walk past you but you take grip at her muscled bicep, you feel as it twitches under your grasp.
“Abby-“ you begin to plead. She gives you one last look of adoration before ripping you to pieces.
She begins backing you into the nearest wall, pushing her hands into your chest to get you to her desired location, “no- fuck you- you don’t get to do that anymore.” She continues to dig her palms into your chest, you try to pull them off of you to no avail, on any day you’d be no match for her strength, but today the liquor only worsened your case.
“You know you’re different,” you bite at her, deepening your gaze, letting your eyes speak louder than your words could. She takes a moment to stare at you, truly wondering if you’d even meant it, if she knew the truth. “Don’t fucking do that-“ her palm grips at your throat now with no real threat as her other palm continues to dig into the flesh of your chest.
“You know it’s true abby.”
“God I fucking hate you,” she says through gritted teeth. She can barely get out the sentence before clashing her mouth against yours. She ravenous, eating you alive, digging her fingers into your soft flesh. She wasn’t allowed to have you for so long, but now, for however long she could, she’d reclaim what was hers.
Shes sloppy, mouth messy against yours as you both fight for dominance, dueling for the right over one another. While her teeth begin to bite down at your lip she brings her wavering fingers to the button of your jeans, attempting to break you out of any confines that are in her way. She rips them down off of you with no generosity as she whips you around so that your chest and palms are pressed into the wall.
You can’t see her, she wanted it that way. This was wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself. In the end you were always hers anyways.
You’re left panting into the cold wood of the walls, awaiting her punishment. Her large hands grip into your bare hips, jutting them out so they meet her completely clothed pelvis.
“Always were so pliable huh?” She taunts into the shell of your ear, making you shutter under her breath.
“I hate that you made it happen like this,” her hand swings down and lays a stinging smack into the meat of your ass, you breathe out hoarsely. “I hate what you do to me,” another smack is laid into you, this time eliciting a whine to escape your throat. “I fucking hate what you make me feel,” this time the infliction came harder than the rest, the slick now beginning to run down your thighs, aching so badly to be touched.
“Abby- please.”
Her knee comes between your own, opening them up wider for her, your slick stringing a sticky web between your thighs. Her hand snakes around your waist, without warning leaving a gentle smack onto the mound. You let out an eager whimper at the decadent pain. She rubs the wound quickly after, feeling your built up arousal in her fingertips that elicits a smug groan in your ear.
She continues to rub down your slick slit with no true target in mind, coaxing as many pathetic moans she could get at her indirection for your pleasure.
“Does she touch you like this?”
You don’t respond, brain too fuzzy to play into her antics. Another smack is laid into the soft pink flesh, hitting your swollen clit perfectly.
“Do you let her?” She says with more aggression this time, rubbing harsh circles around your clit now. You can’t help the guttural moan that comes out, “y-YES.” You should lie, but you didn’t want to know what she would do if she found out you were lying.
Her pace doesn’t falter, continuously circling the swollen bud, “does she feel better.” You pause for a moment, knowing the answer but forced with the moral dilemma of speaking it- “no.”
“I know.” Her fingers come off your clit causing a pathetic whine out of you. Her hand comes to the back of you now, her fingertips prodding at your fluttering hole, teasing the impending doom of her cruelty.
“Deep breath,” she commands of you. You pace your rapid breathing to suck in deep- when she hears the air hit your lungs she plunges her pointer and middle finger deep inside. There’s no grace, no sympathy as she beats into you. Her fingers already coated in your slick haphazardly plunging into your sweet spot.
Your screams don’t stop now, so completely full from her fingers, lust coating your eyes over white. You bite into her forearm placed next to your head to stabilize herself, teeth cutting close to the bulging veins. Her own breath beginning to falter, you can hear the faint moans trailing out her own mouth, almost completely covered by your moans.
Your walls start closing in on her fingers, she rips her free hand out of the tight enclosure of your mouth, in seconds working tight circles on your enlarged clit. The sensation of both stimulants drawing you to the edge of your climax “abby- I’m going t-“
“Tell me you don’t love her.”
She wasn’t going to make this easy, of course she wasn’t. But you’d do anything for release now. “I don’t- I- don’t!”
Her fingertips on your clit stop circling as she pinches onto it, and thrusts even harder into your hole, “say her fucking name.”
You’re screaming out, breathless, mind numb, you’d kill to finish at this point.
“I don’t love Ellie! Please!”
“Good girl now cum on my fingers,” and like that she continued, fucking into you relentlessly, fingers barely stable coated in slick at your clit.
Your ears began to ring as your orgasm took full autonomy over you, sending waves of pleasure down your pathetic structure and out through your needy throat. All you could muster out was incoherent spells of curses and the name of your capture. She took everything she could from you, never letting up till you begin to shake from the overstimulation.
Her fingers trailed from your clit to your hip, she dug her nails into the flesh there. The fingers wedged in your hole remained, gently thrusting when she felt it pulse, eliciting strained whimpers from you.
“I hate that I love you,” as she pulled her fingers out of you, leaving you there limp.
What happened before this?
Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow @a-little-bit-of-everybody
#abby anderson#the last of us#abby anderson smut#abby x reader#abby angst#abby anderson tlou2#abby the last of us#abby tlou#sub abby#abby x fem!reader#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson x reader#abby x you#tlou x reader#tlou smut#tlou2#tlou fanfiction#tlou#tlou part 2
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someone’s calling my name (and it sounds like you)
BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER
summary: after a mission gone wrong, bucky finds himself on the brink of unconsciousness and then you show up which causes him to reveal his true feelings
warnings: hurt!bucky, sad!reader, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, description of injuries, whump-ish, pining, confessions, typical self-deprecating bucky behaviour
wc: 2.1k
- - -
“Why isn’t the serum working!?” you scream, pressing onto Bucky’s wound as hard as you can.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
It was Bucky’s last day on his week-long mission. He was supposed to enter the abandoned bunker to scope for any remaining files on biohazardous weapons that the enemy might still have laying around to make sure they don’t fall into the wrong hands.
But when you and Nat went to pick him up at the rendezvous spot, he was perched against a tree—bloodied and limp. He couldn’t even make it into the cabin that was only a few feet away.
And when you ran over, the sight of him made your stomach drop.
“The wounds are too deep. The serum can’t heal the tissues in time,” Nat yells from the cockpit of the Quinjet. “He needs medical attention. I’ve already contacted Tony to have the team ready.”
Bucky squirms underneath you, eyes still closed as painful grunts escape his lips.
You curse and fight back tears, hands turning more and more crimson each minute. “Nat,” you whimper, “please fly faster.”
“I’m trying my best,” she replies.
You rip a piece of cloth nearby and try your best to bandage his abdomen as tight as possible to slow the bleeding. He lets out a loud agonizing noise this time, one that raises every single hair on your body.
“It’s going to be alright, okay? We’re almost at the Compound,” you assure.
“Got ambushed,” he manages to say through the pain.
You had a feeling he did. “I know.” You bring one of your hands to squeeze his, “How are you feeling?”
There’s a nasty bruise forming around his eye, a busted lip, ghastly cuts splitting the leather of his stealth suit and most notably, the bullet wound in his abdomen that’s causing most of the blood loss. You can already tell by the look on his face that he’s in so much pain—which says a lot since he’s enhanced—so it’s a redundant question, really. But anything to keep his stream of consciousness going.
“Hurts,” he groans. “How bad is it?”
“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” you say, being as optimistic as possible. “Can you open your eyes for me?”
The slow and gentle fluttering of his lashes reminds you of the first snow.
You take a deep breath before mustering a smile. “Hey Bucky.”
Bucky stares for a while. Then your name comes out as a quiet whisper, so delicate that you almost miss it due to your loud distressed heartbeat.
“Yes,” you nod, “it’s me. I’m here.”
“How?”
In truth, you weren’t supposed to be here. Nat was the one assigned to pick Bucky up but ever since you woke up today, an eerie bad feeling surrounded and loomed over you like a dark cloud. It just felt like something wasn’t right—an anxious feeling growing stronger and stronger each passing minute. And when you saw Nat at breakfast, the words, “Let me come with you,” came out of your mouth before you could even stop it.
“I came with Nat,” you answer, voice quivering when you’re reminded of your intuition. I knew it.
“No. You can’t be her,” he says, “you can’t.”
“What do you mean?” you question while pushing the hairs from his forehead. You turn his head to check for any signs of a concussion. “I’m right here.”
“You can’t…” he continues to persist. “She wouldn’t come all the way for me.”
What?
“Bucky, what are you saying? What do you mean she wouldn’t come all the way for you?”
“I’m not worth her time,” he mumbles.
You freeze, finally understanding the situation. He doesn’t believe you’re actually here. He thinks you aren’t real, that you are someone else. “Bucky, I— ”
He cuts you off, “There’s nothing I can offer her. Why would she care for me?”
After Hydra and all the shit he’s been through, he never thought he would be able to feel the normal emotions an average person would feel ever again. Then he got formally introduced to the team after deciding he was finally ready to join the Avengers and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of you—a feeling he hadn’t experienced since what felt like forever. And when he finally got to know you, Bucky never felt so alive. The interactions during team missions and exchanges around the Tower had Bucky falling hopelessly in love with you.
He clears his throat and a tender smile appears. “She’s so special. Has this amazing smile and cutest laugh. She also has the kindest heart but always kicks ass when she needs to,” he says.
Bucky never thought he would love again until you. But he knows the feeling will never be reciprocated. Friendship was one thing, but devoting yourself to someone was something else entirely. And who would want to be with someone as messed up as him?
His smile slowly turns into a frown. “But I’m just… me and there’s nothing I could offer her. There’s nothing to love.”
Your lips tremble at his words, too distraught to even notice the tear sliding down your face.
How can he talk about himself like this? Doesn’t he know that there is so much to admire and cherish? Sometimes, you even think you need a bigger heart, perhaps even two, in order to fit all the love you have for him.
That amazing smile he mentioned was only evident because of him. The smile that only appears when he’s around. Like when he offers to stay with you to clean up the training room. Or when he chooses the spot next to you during movie night.
That cute laugh he mentioned was most of his doing—like whenever he tells dad jokes that don't really make any sense until he explains it, only for you to laugh harder when you finally do. Or when Tony gets angry at you winning ‘Avengers Game Night’ three times in a row and you laugh because Bucky helped you cheat, again.
And that kind heart he mentioned was because Bucky made you want to become a better person. But like he said, you could kick ass too, and you promise you would find and hunt down every single person that laid a hand on him.
You and Bucky never got past anything but the occasional teasing. And you never tried anything further, fearing rejection. But you were okay with just him being there. It didn’t matter if he was beside you, next to you or in front of you—if he was there, you were happy.
So how can he say he had nothing to offer you when his mere presence was enough?
You meet his eyes, both yours and his glistening with each other’s reflection. “You’re wrong.”
Bucky repeats your words in his head. You’re wrong.
Maybe he is wrong. Maybe he’s more than just an ex-brainwashed-assassin. Maybe he’s actually worthy of your love. And maybe you really are in front of him. It’s hard to tell. It feels like he’s in the Austrian Alps again—on the brink between life and death. But unlike the last time, there’s someone with him who’s holding his hand and guiding him through everything. Someone who looks breathtakingly like you. Must be an angel, he thinks.
“Bucky, you’re wrong,” you repeat. “There’s so much to love about you.” There’s so much I love about you.
“What does she think?”
He keeps referring to you in third-person, still not believing you're actually here and it breaks your heart a little.
You sniffle. “I think she feels the same. I’m sure she can go on and on about what she likes about you.”
“When I was escaping, all I could think about was her.”
You let out a shaky breath at his comment because all you could think about was him on the way here.
“I was… I was scared that I might not ever see her again. There’s still something I have to tell her, but whenever I try, it can’t come out.”
“And what is it that you want to tell her?”
He gulps. “That I love her.”
You let out a small cry and hold onto his hand even tighter, hoping he’ll understand.
He recoils and takes a sharp inhale as another shot of pain runs through him. It’s getting hard to talk but there’s still one question he needs to ask who he assumes is his guardian angel. “Do you think she could’ve loved me?”
His words finally break you. “I think…” you choke out, struggling to wipe the tears running relentlessly down your face, “I think she could’ve loved you.”
His eyes are slowly starting to flutter shut from exhaustion. “You think so?”
You nod and try your best to hold back your half smothered sobs. “In fact, she does love you. But she’s just too scared to tell you and it’s been gnawing at her forever,” you cry out, cradling his face with your free hand.
Your hand is caked with his blood and right there and then, you notice how human he looks. Despite having the super soldier serum flowing through his veins, he’s not invincible. He’s human. He can get hurt. He had fears. He could succumb to injuries. For a moment, you think about a life without someone like Bucky Barnes in it. You don’t think you would be able to smile again.
“She loves you too, Bucky. So don’t talk like you’re never going to see her again. Because you need to survive this so the both of you can tell each other everything.”
Survive this. He can do that, he thinks. His lovely angel is telling him that you love him. He needs to survive this and get back—back to you.
He closes his eyes and gives a weak smile, trying his best to fight off the unconsciousness that’s threatening to take over.
“Landing in two minutes!” Nat shouts.
When the Quinjet hits the ground, numerous medics come and place Bucky onto a stretcher. And as they push him to the medical bay, you hold his hand the whole way.
When you reach the entrance to the surgery room, Dr. Cho stops you for a second. “I’m sorry but you can’t enter beyond this point,” she tells you with apologetic eyes.
You nod, but before you go, “Hey, Bucky,” you quip, hoping somehow he’ll hear you. “You’re almost there. Don’t give up, okay?”
You take one last look at him before lifting his hand. “She’ll be there when you wake up,” you mutter, pressing your lips against his bruised knuckles.
And in the silence, a small whisper of “You promise?” escapes his lips and you hook your pinky with his before they wheel him into the surgery room.
Hours later, Dr. Cho finally comes out and you let out the loudest breath of relief when she says he’s stable, giving you the thumbs up to visit him.
The rest of the team joins, but you’re the one who opts to stay. Nat gives you a comforting pat on the back before you are finally left alone on the couch, the beeping of the monitor joining your saturnine sighs.
When he finally wakes, he squeezes your hand that was intertwined with his all night. You’re here, Bucky whispers to himself.
Your eyes flutter open, face brightening at the sight of him. “You’re awake.”
Bucky looks at you and panic arises at the sight of your blood-soaked shirt. But he slowly starts to remember what happened. He realizes that it was real after all. You really were there. You came for him and you stayed. And perhaps, maybe somewhere deep within him, he knew it was real all along, real enough to get him through.
“I have to tell you something,” the both of you blurt out in unison, wasting no time because life’s too precious to wait.
You both let out a small chuckle. You already know what he’s going to say—his confession is still clear in your mind. And he knows what you’re going to say, he vaguely remembers you saying the words he always wanted to hear.
“You need to rest,” you insist. “Let me… let me go first,” you say nervously.
You start from the beginning, from the moment you woke up to when he got wheeled into the operation room. And you weren’t joking when you said you could go on and on about what you like about him—you think you spent an entire hour telling him. Somewhere in-between, he wipes your tears away. You tell him your feelings and he blushes and beams at you as if he didn’t just go through a near-death experience hours ago.
“… Next time, I’m going with you on every single mission.”
“You’re not going to get sick of me?”
“I think I should be the one asking you that.”
“Impossible,” he says in certainty.
Bucky could never get sick of you. Bucky wants you there, every moment, everyday. Just like how you stayed with him through everything not once letting go of his hand, he’s going to stick by you too, no matter what happens.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes angst#bucky fic#bucky x y/n#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#sebastian stan x reader
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CoGSaver
Hello! (￣ω￣)/ Do you play lots of Choice of Games IFs? Do you find yourself constantly frustrated with their lack of save system? Well allow me to give you a [Hopefully simple though probably redundant] guide on how to save your games! For the record there are other ways I just don’t know/use them this way works for me.
So I made a post of this before kinda, it was as a response to an ask for @barbwritesstuff [Fantastic creator btw I highly recommend giving them a follow.] BUT I didn’t like how messy it was since I tried to do it quickly, there was also a typo & honestly, it bugged me to no end. (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞
Now that that’s taken care of onward! For this guide I’m going to use @barbwritesstuff game Blood Moon again because well I’m already set up for that. Before we begin, we need two things the program and our games “Code” [Technically it’s called Game ID but Code is quicker].
I use a program called CoGSaver which can be found with a fairly easy guide on its use here. [Hence the redundant part but hey always nice to have multiple guides and I included pics (･ω<)☆]
https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=2718610599
[I find this program to be safe but please always use caution when downloading things from the internet.]
Next the Code, to find it we’ll need to go Right click our games desktop icon and select “Properties”. You should see it immediately.
Now once you’re playing your game and come to a point you want to save open CoGsaver and click “Select Game”
Next we’re going to navigate to our game data, remember that Code? Each steam game has one and they will be listed as their Codes so that’s how we’ll find it.
Now just select the “storePS<gamename In this case Blood Moon>PSstate”
Congratulations! ♪♪♪ ヽ(ˇ∀ˇ )ゞ You have now made your game accessible to be saved! From here just Click “Create Save” to save and “Load Game” to load simple right? Well just forewarning when you want to load your game, you’ll need to close out your game and reopen it to load up your save point. Is it a bit tedious? Yes, but there you go now you can save your game, Happy playing!
#choice of games#How to save#interactive fiction#Be free my fellow IF players!#I'll never understand the decision to not have a save system#I'm still not happy with how this looks#If there's another typo#I'm throwing my Pc in the fire
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Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)
PART 17: PERIOD PAIN
Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader
Warning: Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Fluff, Smut
“What is it?” Cillian asked, seeing how you had panicked in a flash.
“I am so sorry. Don’t fucking look” you said hysterically as you quickly pulled away from him and set up in earnest. “In fact, don’t fucking move” you then said just as a few tears shot into the corners of your eyes. “Where are your flannels?” you wanted to know as the tone in your voice changed, which is when Cillian did exactly what you told him not to do.
“Y/N, what’ the…” he asked before looking down and in between where your legs were still engrossed before, suddenly, breathing out a sigh of relief. “You’ve got your period” he then chuckled but you did not think that it was funny at all.
“Yes, and it’s fucking embarrassing” you thus said while covering your face, which is when Cillian pulled your hands to the side so that he could look at you.
“Come here” he then said gently before pulling you in for a kiss, but you were not up for it. “It’s natural, you know” he thus pointed out sarcastically after you pulled away.
“Yes, but it is also such a turnoff” you pointed out, seeing that you had left a stain on the sheets as well as his thighs.
“I honestly couldn’t care less” Cillian said while pulling you close and on top of him which somewhat took you by surprise. “Once we are finished, I will just go and have a shower and change the sheets. It’s really not a big deal” he then said before kissing you passionately but the fact that you had just gotten your periods after a dry spell of eight weeks meant that you were rather uncomfortable.
“Oh no…we are most defiantly finished now, Cill” you murmured against his lips before pushing his hands away from your ass, being much to close to the area you needed him to avoid.
“No round two?” Cillian pouted and you shook your head.
“Absolutely not! Not while I am on my period” you told him firmly before telling him that you could not believe that he was even considering it.
“And I can’t believe that you wouldn’t. It’s not a big deal. Not in my opinion anyway” Cillian said before suggesting to run you a bath while he changes the sheets, which was an offer you gladly accepted.
****
The following morning, after an almost sleepless night of stomach cramps, you rolled out of bed at around nine and were greeted with the delicious smell of breakfast.
“Good Morning Sleepyhead” Cillian said as you walked into the kitchen and you smiled softly at him as he flipped the pancake. Much to your luck, he was making your favourite, pancakes with berries and chocolate syrup, and you wanted nothing more than to indulge in all things sweet when it was this time of the month for you.
“Good Morning Cill” you said while sitting down at one of the tall chairs near the kitchen aisle, waiting for Cillian to pass you a cup of coffee.
“Are you up for some pancakes?” he questioned and all you could do was nod your head.
“Thank you for last night Cill” you then said as he was serving up the most amazing breakfast ever and a cocky smirk played on his lips as he brought you a plate filled with three pancakes and berries. He placed a bottle of syrup in front of you as well along with a cup of coffee for you to drink. He was too kind to you, making you wonder what you did to deserve this side of him.
Just last night, at around two o‘clock he got up to get you some painkillers and a hot water bottle as you were struggling with the cramps. He even handed you some pads from his daughter’s room as you had none with you, making you blush at the time.
“My pleasure” Cillian winked before suggesting a day at home with him, watching Netflix and eating unhealthy things.
“Well, Emma actually just texted me and told me that she is heading back this afternoon. I probably should go home” you said, thinking that, with you having your period, the premise of friends with benefits became somewhat redundant.
Cillian would be bored and you felt like doing nothing but rest.
“Okay” Cillian pouted while watching you eat and, even after a single bite, you felt terribly full. When you had your period,, nausea often came with it so none of this surprised you.
“You know I could take care of you though. I could cook you some food, give your back a massage and fill up your hot water bottle when you need it” he then said, seeing that, clearly, you weren’t feeling too well.
“But that would not be any fun for you, having to deal with a moody crampy woman all day. You did so much for me already” you pointed out, which is when Cillian walked over to you and took you into his arms.
“I like spending time with you and I will enjoy looking after you” he then said and, of course, you couldn’t say no to him. He was too sweet and caring and you enjoyed his company just as much as he enjoyed yours.
As such, you did indeed spend all day watching movies and reading books. You also listened to some music while Cillian cooked both lunch and dinner, spoiling you with his amazing food.
In the evening, the worst pain was almost gone. Only the mild cramps were lingering now and, just as you sat down again with Cillian and binged watched your favourite Netflix show, he cuddled up to you and rested his head on your shoulder.
“How bad is it now?” he asked while running his hand gently over your stomach, causing you to cringe.
“It’s better than it was this morning, but still painful. I don’t get them regularly so, really, I never know what to expect to be honest” you explained while enjoying the warmth of Cillian’s body against yours.
“You may want to get this checked out Y/N. Women your age should be at least somewhat regular” Cillian then told you and his comment made you worry and laugh all at the same time.
“Oh, is that right?” you asked. “And how do you know?” you wondered, giving him a questioning look.
“Well, Nina got them last year for the first time and it was a conversation me and Danielle had with her doctor. She pointed out to us that irregularities are normal until you are in your early to mid twenties, but not so much after that…” Cillian explained, causing you to swallow harshly. You were in your early twenties, but of course, he did not know that yet. He still thought that you were turning thirty soon.
“Okay, I will stop you right there” you interrupted him nonetheless, brushing off what he had just said to you. “Let’s not discuss my menstruation, alright? It’s probably just my contraception causing some havoc” you told him, causing Cillian to nod and chuckle all at the same time.
“Alright. I will shut up now” he laughed while looking at you as you were moving around. For the past five minutes, you had been crossing and uncrossing your legs as if you were seeking some friction and, whilst these movements were familiar to Cillian, the fact that you tried to hide them amused him.
“What?” you asked, seeing how he was looking at you now.
“You are moving a lot” he then pointed out with a devilish grin on his face.
“Yes, and?” you asked, wondering what he was on about.
“Nothing” Cillian chuckled while furrowing his eyebrows at you, giving you “the look”, which is when you realised what was going on.
“Just say it” you chuckled yourself, seeing that you had been caught.
“Nope” Cillian laughed, knowing that period sex was off the table. You had said so yourself.
“Yes, I am horny, alright! I can’t help it, which is just one of the reasons I didn’t want to stay here tonight” you then huffed out in frustration, causing Cillian to chuckle again.
“Okay” was all he responded with before making a somewhat unexpected remark. “Did you know that having an orgasm is said to relieve the cramping?” he pointed out and you shook your head.
“No” you said, trying to ignore his rather obvious suggestion to have sex.
“What I am saying is that I could help you with your cramps and address your urges all at the same time. I could run us a bath and…” Cillian began to say nonetheless and you interrupted him.
“I know what you are saying Cill, but no!” you said again, this time more firmly then before which is when Cillian nodded and moved towards you, bent down, and pressed his lips against yours for a passionate kiss. He then straightened back up and left you wanting more.
You thus pulled him close for another kiss which turned out to be even more passionate than your last and, just as you kissed, you inadvertently began to grind yourself against Cillian’s hot body, causing him to groan.
“Fine” you then murmured against his lips as it was clear to you both that neither of you could resist each other anymore and, with that, Cillian sat up straight and smiled.
“That didn’t take a lot of convincing” he chuckled before standing up, which is when you noticed the large bulge in his pants as his erection pushed out the fabric of his jeans.
“I will fill up the bathtub. Meet you in five?" he then asked and, just as he did, there was a lump in your throat as you nodded and watched him leave the room.
You had never had sex during your period before and, even though your bleeding was generally light, James had always been grossed out by it. Cillian, on the other hand, did not seem to care and you hoped that, once you got into the bathtub with him, that neither would you.
Five minutes later…
The bathroom was warm, humid, it smelled of something nice, something Cillian had put in the water.
You undressed and disposed of the obvious while thinking that, if you were to get into this tub, then the water could turn red or pink at least. It would be embarrassing and you thought about backtracking, but then you heard Cillian come in behind you.
You heard the door close and felt his arms wrap around you. His naked, warm body pressed against you from behind, his cock against your lower back, his chin on your shoulder and his cheek against your face. He smelled of himself and a faint residue of aftershave which, to you, was simply intoxicating.
“You are so beautiful” he whispered from behind just before he let go of you and climbed into the tub, letting himself slowly sink beneath the hot water's surface.
He was moaning satisfied with such abandon that it made you smile, almost laugh.
“You know that there may be some blood in the tub and…” you then began to stammer nonetheless which is when Cillian opened his eyes and looked at you.
“I will survive that" he then chuckled before telling you to come in.
“Okay” you nodded nervously before you climbed into the water and let yourself sink down into his lap.
You had to close your eyes as the warmth of the water slowly engulfed and relaxed you all the while Cillian’s arms came up around you, holding you close to him as you were now facing each other.
Your lips found his and he kissed you with such wanton tenderness, it made you want to cry and then you made out with a lazy passion that touched something deep inside you. You felt safe, secure and desired.
Your teeth tugged lightly at his lower lip. Cillian moaned and moved his mouth down to your throat und pressed featherlight and heated kisses against it. Your head fell back, giving him better access and your hips started rocking back and forth.
You then scooted a little further up his legs while Cillian put his hands on your ass, guiding you closer. He was so gentle with you, so careful not to put too much pressure on your abdomen, so heedful not to hurt.
You soon started grinding your mound against his cock and felt his fingers on your ass, digging deeper into your flesh.
“Fuck I want you so much Y/N. You drive me absolutely crazy” Cillian said as you continued grinding against his hard member.
“I want you too Cill” you confirmed and, then, your mouths and tongues were playing again and your chests pressed flush together.
A low rumble was running through his body as his hands trailed over your back, holding your head to deepen the kiss before wandering back down to your butt, which is when you lifted yourself a little and took his cock into your hand.
You pumped your hand over his shaft several times while you drank in his breathy moans before, finally, aligning his cock with your opening.
“I need go slow” you told him as, slowly, you sank down on him before lifting yourself again and then sinking down a little further.
This worked. The pressure was a lot, more than usual, but not unpleasant.
“Are you alright?” Cillian asked as he held you close to him.
“Hmm, yes…it’s just…it hurts a little” you said and he immediately drew back a little.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked as one of his hands was caressing your cheek and you could see the look of concern on his face.
“No. I want to cum. It still feels good” you whispered in response which is when Cillian dragged his thumb over your cheek and then bent forward to kiss you deeply.
With that, you started to move slowly, rocking your hips back and forth while you moaned into your kiss.
It hurt, but it also felt so good. So safe. So hot. So intimate.
You moved up and down on Cillian’s shaft and held on to him tightly. You let your fingers run through his hair and down his cheeks before flattening your palm against his chest.
He groaned again and you ran your hands up to his neck, tracing a pulsing vein, holding him to you, as you kept grinding and circling.
Tentatively, he started bucking his hips up into you in a slow rhythm.
“That’s it” you moaned as something started building inside you. Growing slowly, fed by every movement, every kiss, every moan of his, every groan, every ragged breath.
His eyes had flickered closed, his face creased with the effort, his mouth open, sucking in air. You closed your eyes to focus solely on the feeling of him throbbing and moving inside you, on his fingers digging into you and on the sounds escaping him. You were a moaning mess now. Only a few more strokes and you would get there, finding your sweet release.
He picked up the rhythm a little although he was still holding back. Cillian was close. Clenched teeth, sweat running down his temples, open-mouthed breaths, some swearing.
“I am close Y/N” he said and you moaned loudly in response.
“So am I. Let go. Let us cum together” you gasped and, with that, Cillian indeed let go of his inhibitions.
“Fuck” he cursed as, suddenly, he came hard and fast with a few erratic last pumps and a rumbling groan as his fingers deeply buried themselves in to your flesh.
Seeing him crash like this pushed you over the edge as well. You lost all self-control and, within a few seconds, you too, were thrown into an all-engulfing, warm orgasm.
Your head was thrown back in a throaty moan as you rode out its waves while your body started convulsing until, just after a little while, Cillian slipped out of you and you opened your eyes.
You saw that the water had indeed turned a shade of pink and the embarrassment was written all over your face when Cillian made you look at him instead. His face carried a smile, satisfied but also incredibly exhausted.
“I love you” he then said while caressing your cheeks and these three words made you gasp. They were not at all what you had expected and you immediately felt guilty for the secret you were still carrying with you.
To be continued…
Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!
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#cillian murphy#cillian murphy fanfic#cillian murphy x y#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x you#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x reader
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Hey bestie!
I can't remember if you have done it yet, but how AEW Stars react to when you have really bad period cramps?
Love you boo!
AEW Stars React: You on Your Period
Pairings: MJF x Fem!Reader, Darius Martin x Fem!Reader, Dante Martin x Fem!Reader, Ricky Starks x Fem!Reader, Hook x Fem!Reader, Daniel Garcia x Fem!Reader, Eddie Kingston x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1K
Supreme Speaks: hiii, I thoroughly enjoyed this one! Thanks to @wwenhlimagines for the request (I LOVE YOU BESTIE). As a person currently dealing with this, yes....i also decided just to make it about periods in general to avoid redundancy ALSO EDDIE WON HIS FIRST NJPW CHAMPIONSHIP
Warnings: Period mentions, suggestive mentions, not proofread
Taglist: @wwenhlimagines @hooks-martin @hookerforhook @sheinthatfandom @aew190 @eddie-kingstons-wifey @triscillal
MJF:
“Imagine having that kind of problem”
Will make fun of you (playfully) until you throw a box of pads at him
Is convinced that you are a demon during this time of the month
Will get you an expensive heating pad…and himself one too
Will make sure that you have your favorite candy…and also getting himself some too (its a uterUS)
I feel like Max wouldn’t know what to do emotionally (I can only see him as his gimmick sometimes)
But he is ready to drop a check on anything that you need to
Looks up more products/medication to get you so you can be more comfortable
Almost called 911 when you haven’t moved from an uncomfortable-looking position (almost thought you dislocated your spine)
But don’t tell him he needs to go out at 12 AM to get you something…he’ll say no
Darius Martin:
“What do you need?”
Darius definitely understands you and already has a little kit for you when you come over
He replenishes it every month
Makes you drink water at least every hour
Will give you massages at any hour, he doesn’t care
Darius is one who doesn’t underestimate your pain
Has everything in arms reach for you
Will have the heating pad on standby and will turn the shower to the hottest setting (per your request)
“Hey, I’m not doubting your pain but are you sure that hot lava water will help you? It’s burning me”
Will try to motivate you to exercise to relieve your pain
Dante Martin:
THIS SWEET SUMMER CHILD
I think because of the fact he only has a brother; he doesn’t understand/know the pain of periods
Will just do everything you ask
“Does it have to be this brand-….Yes, I understand but you didn’t need to call me all those names”
Does research and have you take vitamins
Will use another bathroom just to make sure he’s not making you wait or feel uncomfortable
Like MJF, is also scared to see you in a twisted-up position but lets it go when you tell him you feel the least amount of pain
Is also scared of your mood swings (if you have them), but he will quickly understand that you’re not mad at him…you’re mad at Mother Nature
Definitely will ask his brother for tips on how to avoid anything that’ll make you mad
Overall, he will be happy to help you and learn more about you
Hook:
WILL CARRY YOU WITHOUT ANY HESITATION
Tired? Can’t walk due to your period stabbing you in your tummy/uterus?
Call 1-800-SEND-HOOK
Like Darius, is very prepared for your time of the month
Will massage you with a heating pad
I also think he would push for more healthy food and vitamins for you instead of sugars; Mans will have five types of teas for you to try for relief
Will slap your hand if you reach for caffeine
“You’re gonna reach for a Coke when I made this raspberry tea? Don’t complain when your cramps get worse.”
Is not bothered by your period banter; he just remains silent
I’m still deadass about him carrying you everywhere; He’ll do it bridal way or piggyback; it doesn’t matter to him
As long as you are okay and getting better, Hook literally doesn’t care
Daniel Garcia:
I’m convinced that Daniel has tried a period simulator
So safe to know that he understands your pain (it's an uterUS pt.2)
(He was screaming from the pain before it reached level 7)
Will put on your favorite movies to distract you from your pain
Daniel will alter his regular routines to include you and to make you comfortable
Will massage anything you ask him
“You want me to massage your stomach? Done. Now can I massage your tits? Pretty please?”
Will carry you every now and later for your comfort
Doesn’t wanna leave your side until you’re feeling like your old self
“Can I leave? My girlfriend is currently experiencing pain and I’m starting to feel it too.” (Again, uterUS)
Ricky Starks:
Mans is probably the best on this list for dealing with pains and periods (besides Darius)
Ricky does everything to a T
Medication? Has the correct brand of water, pads, and food? Is patient with you? MAN HAS EVERYTHING
But I think, and hear me out
Mans would be into doing the devils tango during this time of the month (don’t know how you feel about it)
“You think a lil blood will stop me? Hell nah! Besides, I heard it really helps with your cramps”
Will continue to do routines with you -self-care with you; face masks, massages
I think he might take you to an acupuncture appointment to help with the pain too
In terms of your mood swings, he will playfully argue with you
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, unless it’s in pleasure…you goblin.”
Eddie Kingston:
“Ight I’m just gonna ask. What size is ya pussy?”
Legitimately doesn’t know what he’s looking for but understands the pain you’re experiencing
Will agree with whatever you say about periods (and will fight anyone who disagrees with you)
Will hog you during this time; just in case you need him at any time
Has everything in a fanny pack or book bag; sometimes will just throw the bag to you so you can grab it
Like the other men on this list, will massage you if you want it
Remember like how I said when you get injured (self-promo) that he will argue as he helps you? Yeah, that doesn’t change
“Get this Eddie. Can you hand me this Eddie? Just m-“ “Are you mocking me?” “No, my sweet!”
Will distract you from your pain with his nonsense
“I DON’T KNOW WHY YOU HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS MONTHLY! BUT I BET ITS CLAUDIOS FAULT!”
#aew#all elite wrestling#daniel garcia#aew imagine#eddie kingston#aew hook imagine#aew hook#all elite wrestling imagines#mjf#mjf imagine#mjf x reader#maxwell jacob friedman#eddie kingston x reader#eddie kingston imagine#daniel garcia x reader#daniel garcia fic#daniel garcia imagine#darius martin#darius martin x reader#darius martin imagine#dante martin#dante martin imagine#ricky starks#ricky starks x reader#ricky starks imagine#ricky starks fic
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Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 3
Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader
Co-written with @absurdthirst
When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.
Rating: General audiences, but this blog is always 18+
Word Count: 16.3k
Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Flirting, discussions of deceased soulmates. Not too many warnings for this one, although Jack and shopping is a personal fantasy of mine.
Summary: A party and a day out together give you some time to get to know Jack a little bit better.
Notes: Sorry for the post delay this week, everyone, but thank you all for being so supportive. Health is a struggle but fiction is a beautiful escape.
Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue
Jack eyes Champ, frowning slightly at the older man as he shoots him a grin across the room. He's been cagey lately, smirking at him like he knows a secret that he won't tell Jack. Something that he knows drives the senior agent crazy. Instead of walking across the room and demanding he tell him what is on his mind, Jack turns towards you. Watching as you meet Ginger's soulmate, Gabriella.
Just a little get together, Diana had said when she called you, smiling down the phone as she issued the invitation. To celebrate! Well, Diana’s idea of small was two or three dozen people - all Statesman employees and their families - gathered at the Rogers’ house for a weekend barbecue. It seems like the whirlwind of introductions may never stop, but this bright and happy woman named Gabriella and the two children that she seems to be an expert at wrangling just put you at ease. Introducing yourself seems a little redundant since this is a party to welcome you specifically, but the kids don’t care - just as kids tend not to. They wave hello and ask their mother if they can go play with the other kids, and are off like a shot the instant they get a ‘yes’.
“They’re sweet,” you say, smiling despite how much you miss your niece and nephew. It’s only been five days since you saw them last, but that’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing them ever.
"They are wild." Gabriella corrects you with a laugh, looking after her kids with the fondness of a parent of someone well accustomed to their antics. "But they promised to behave under threat of torture."
“I wish that worked on my nephew.” When she pats the arm of the chair beside her, you sit down gratefully. Deciding to dress up for this party shouldn’t have included heels, that’s your own fault. “When my niece is finally old enough to be his sidekick, everyone’s going to be in trouble.”
"Menaces, huh?" She chuckles and sips her spiked lemonade before she shrugs, keeping an eye on her own troublemakers. "That just means they will have each other's backs when they are older."
“I hope so.” They have good examples to follow, at least, with how close you are to your siblings. Even if you’re not physically close to each other anymore. “So…this is what counts as a ‘little’ get together around here?” Diana had poured you a spiked lemonade a few moments ago, and you’d added peach nectar as your fruit flavor of choice from the bar of fruit flavored syrups and liqueurs by the large bar set up in the kitchen counter. It’s the best lemonade you’ve ever had in your life.
"Any excuse to have a party is Diana's reason for living." Gabriella jokes, motioning to where she is fluttering around talking to people with the largest smile on her face. Her husband ambles behind her, much slower in pace as he allows her to do as she pleases with a fond smile on his own face and a whiskey in his hand.
“A woman after my own heart,” you laugh, looking over in time to see a young man maybe a few years younger than yourself receive an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek and be shooed inside with lipstick on his cheek. “Their son?” It’s not exactly a stretch to guess. He has Champ’s stance and his mother’s thick head of hair.
"Bobby." She confirms with a nod. "He’s back home for a bit after being overseas for the last two years."
“Something fun, I hope.” But you won’t pry, enjoying the easy atmosphere on this sunny afternoon.
"Oh yeah, he's been traveling for Statesman and has been a little homesick." She murmurs, aware that you aren't aware of the real reason for international travel from some of the Statesman employees. Her wife had filled her in before the party.
“I like that it’s a family operation.” Turning back to Gabriella, you take a sip of your lemonade and smile. “Do you mind if I ask how long you’ve been here?” You don’t know their story - her and Astrid - but as the newest arrival to what Champ and Diana jovially call ‘the Statesman family’ you feel like you want to know everything.
Gabriella smiles, looking over at Astrid with stars in her eyes. “We found each other about seven years ago. Damn lucky honestly. What with–” She bites her lip, knowing she shouldn’t say the real reason. “Astrid doesn’t have any scars.”
“I noticed that a lot of people don’t seem to have tattoos, either.” It’s just a vague observation, but coming from the culinary world where so many of your coworkers have large pieces or even whole sleeves, it surprises you. “I guess I’m alone in that one.”
“Yeah.” Gabriella gives a slightly nervous chuckle. “There’s actually an incentive to have them removed here. You should look into it. If you want, of course.” If she could get you to remove the tattoos without any suspicion, Jack would be in the clear.
“Why would I want to do that?” Your left hand moves protectively to cover your right elbow, and you think back to your contract to make sure you haven't glazed over anything. There had certainly been a dress code portion of the employee handbook, but nothing about tattoos or piercings. Not even a note on ‘acceptable’ hair colors.
“I meant no offense.” She immediately back pedals and gives a small smile. “I’ve just known plenty of people here who have decided they don't want their tattoos anymore. People change what they once liked…you know.”
“Oh, sure.” That’s true, certainly, and you relax a little. “I guess that’s fair. I just can’t see a single reason I would want to get rid of mine. I just made sure to get it in a place that I could cover, ya know? Just in case. Some fine dining restaurants don’t like to have them showing.”
“Of course.” She bobbles her head quickly, not wanting to alienate you with a thoughtless comment. She wasn’t supposed to know that you are Jack’s soulmate but Astrid had let it slip. “I know all about the ‘professional’ world. I was in the corporate rat race before I found Astrid.”
“Then that makes you a much braver woman than I.” You laugh and sit back in your chair. “I don’t know how you survived it, honestly.” All that corporate nonsense does nothing for you and it never has - no part of your extraordinary life is ever going to revolve around file numbers.
“Oh I’m much happier now with our little house to keep and our kids to wrangle.” She promises. “And just listening to Astrid talk about work gives me all the adventure I could ever want.”
“It’s not that little.” No, you see their house in the walk to work every morning now, and it certainly isn’t petite like yours is. Not that you need more than that for just you and the Dormouse. “You’ve got your slice of heaven, I think. It’s kind of…” You shrug, figuring you’re probably over sharing, but it’s always coming out of your mouth. “Kind of what I always wanted. That idyllic family life.”
“I never knew I wanted it.” Gabriella has no problem admitting that she had never imagined domestic bliss or being a stay-at-home mom when she was climbing the corporate ladder. “Now, I couldn’t imagine anything else.”
“I wouldn’t give up my career for anything.” Anybody who asked you to would be in for a rude awakening. “But a family? That’s…that’s still the dream.” Even with your soulmate, the idea of finding someone isn’t ridiculous. Plenty of people do it every day…right?
“I understand.” Gabriella looks over to where her youngest has spotted Jack and is currently climbing up his leg. Jack smiles and laughs as he swings the boy up onto his shoulders, but there is the underlying sadness underneath. “Sometimes the dreams are all you have.”
“Sometimes they are.” Too lost in your own melancholy overlong losing your soulmate, you don’t see Gabriella’s eyes move to Jack with her son. You don’t even notice Astrid and Tex step up onto the porch together.
“Well, look at you.” Tex whistles as he looks you up and down. “Ain’t you pretty as a picture? You having fun?”
“Hey you.” The sound of his voice is familiar - one of the only things that is familiar around here - and you perk up a little to see two familiar faces. “You made it.” To be honest, you didn’t really know who Diana had invited, but you figured it was a good chance that Tex would be here considering he had been your flight companion and part of your testing team. He seems to be involved in everything the same way Jack is.
“Damn near didn’t.” Tequila admits. “Amsterda—” He cuts off abruptly and shakes his head. “I mean, an armadillo managed to get into one of the storage houses.” He covers his slip up with a mile wide grin. “But I made it.”
“Is that why I haven’t seen you in days?” You pop up from your seat to give him a hug and choose not to say anything about the fact that he was definitely about to say something else. “Because of an armadillo?”
“Tricky suckers.” He huffs, giving you an extra squeeze before he lets go of you. Gabriella sends Astrid a pointed look and then glances at Tequila.
“If I find one in my garden, I’m calling you.” It’s barely a threat, and you don’t have a proper garden yet, but you’ll get there eventually.
“You can call me even if you don’t.” Tex tells you, making Astrid clear her throat and capture everyone’s attention. “Should we get something to eat?” She asks when your head turns towards her.
“Lead the way.” Champ seems to have deputized his son to help him look after the large grill on the other side of the yard, and Jack is nearby with a drink in hand when the four of you approach together.
Astrid and Gabriella whisper together ahead of you as you make your way towards the tables laden down with sides and desserts. None of them yours yet, but a potluck off all those who wanted to contribute.
“I wish Diana hadn’t insisted on just being a guest.” Walking beside Tex, you look over at the table of various desserts with affection. Sweets are what you do, after all. “I would have made a couple of cakes to bring.”
"You aren't supposed to bring food to your own shindig." Jack huffs, walking up toward the group and nods towards you. "It's not how it's done here in the south, sugar."
“I guess I have a few things to learn.” You half step forward to offer him a hug, having left things on a good note after your night at the bar earlier in the week, but you’re not still quite sure what Jack thinks of you and you don’t want to make things weird - so instead you end up just stepping forward awkwardly and looking like your arms don’t work properly. “How have you been, Jack?”
He knows that you are expecting a hug and doesn't know quite how to ask for one. It's slightly awkward, especially since Jack just came back from the funeral of your former soulmate. It had taken a couple of days for his family to be notified and then another week for the body to be shipped back to his hometown. Jack hadn't introduced himself, just stood off a respectful distance while the man he had taken a future from had been lowered into the ground. "As good as I can be." He tells you, looping his arm around you and squeezing you to his side in a friendly manner, although his hand is lower than appropriate on your waist.
“I hope nothing’s wrong?” The side hug is a little awkward but there’s warmth to it - or at least there is to you. It wouldn’t be the first time you imagined that someone enjoyed your company more than they actually did. “Sweets can solve any myriad of problems, you know.”
"Nothing that a party with everyone I care about can't fix." Jack hums, a flash of pain that seems bittersweet and vague for Abigail not being here is almost as a reflex now. He suppresses it and grins. "But I'm eager for another sample of your cakes."
“I’m going to start working on the menu next week,” you tell everyone, chest absolutely bursting with pride. “So I’m going to need everybody to stop by the kitchen a couple of times to try out what I’ll be baking. As many times as you want to come by, I’d love to get the feedback.”
"Everyday." The promise pops out of his lips before he could ever even think about not speaking.
Not expecting such an immediate and earnest response, you practically beam. “Then I’ll start with cakes. By the end of the week you’ll never want to go near buttercream again.”
"Don't tell him that." Tequila rolls his eyes and shoulder checks Jack playfully. "This man keeps bags of candy in his desk all the time."
“Oh yeah?” You raise an eyebrow at Jack and smirk. “What’s your favorite?” Sometimes the smallest thing can be a big inspiration, so you’re never going to shy away from asking the question.
Jack frowns at Tequila for ratting him out and huffs. "I like Snickers." He admits with a modest shrug of his shoulders.
“Noted.” The urge to do something in Jack’s honor on your menu is seemingly expanding far beyond his affinity for your tea sandwiches, but on the outside all you do is smile. You haven’t had a crush like this in ages, and it doesn’t help that you’re nursing one for Tex at the same time.
"I like Zero bars." Tex adds, his brows lifted hopefully as he pushes his hands into his pockets. He really likes you, drawn to you in a way he hasn't felt before and he wants to ask you out.
“Which are, arguably, a white chocolate version of a Snickers.” It starts to turn your wheels even more, wondering if you can’t do something with caramel and peanuts that uses two types of chocolate.
"I keep telling you that." Jack smirks at Tex and shakes his head. "Boy doesn't know anything."
“It just means they can work well together.” Completely oblivious to any undertones in the conversation, you just shrug your shoulders and let your wheels grind on a recipe idea while the group of you moves up along the picnic tables to get something to eat.
Tequila frowns at Jack but he doesn’t feel guilty. The boy needs to sniff around somewhere else. It’s obvious you aren’t interested and you’re grieving your soulmate.
“What in the hell is going on?” Ginger whispers, hiding in Jack’s ear as Gabriella and Tequila whisk you toward one end of the tables to the immense batch of tamales that Ginger’s wife made for the occasion.
“What are you talking about?” Jack asks, feigning ignorance. “We’re at a party. That’s what’s going on.”
“You and Tequila.” She fixes him with a frown and pushes her glasses up on her nose a little. “You’re not normally this subtle, I’ll give you that. But it’s like watching peacocks.”
“Peacocks?” Jack frowns and looks over at where you and Tequila have your heads together over the table and there are the sounds of laughter. “You’re imagining things.” He scoffs. “Nobody’s actin’ like a peacock. Just bein’ friendly to the girl.”
“Jack.” Ginger frowns. She wears her cover for her friends on her sleeve and makes no apologies for it. “I know you might not…all things considered, I get it. Not saying anything to her. But please tell me that you told him?”
“Sure I did.” Jack nods, rolling his eyes. “Showed him the damn tattoos the day Champ benched me.”
“But you’re sure he knows it’s her?” She asks, searching his face with concern. When he rolls his eyes, her eyes pinch shut immediately. “It’s February, Jack. It might be warm enough for a backyard barbecue, but we’re all still wearing long sleeves.”
“Come on Ging– he went to pick her up.” Jack scoffs. “Don’t you think Champ told him that he was on an escort mission for my supposed soulmate?
“Honestly?” She shrugs, biting the inside of her lip while she thinks. “I think Champ told as few people as possible. So maybe he didn’t.” There is nothing supposed about you, but this isn’t the moment for that argument.
“Don’t see why it matters.” Liar. The voice in his head screams it but Jack just ignores it and forges ahead. “They are friendly. End of story.”
“If you say so.” The last thing she wants is to start an argument, so she’ll let it go for now. But Ginger knows Jack and Tequila and she knows their habits - and you’re getting at least one request for a date for Valentine’s Day next week. She just doesn’t know which one of them will be first.
Jack is happy she’s willing to drop it. Uncomfortable with the conversation, although he does side eye Tequila before he dismisses it. It’s not like he has a claim over you even if it was true. You aren’t his soulmate and there’s no way he’s yours. Not when his heart died years ago.
It takes two full plates before you’re finally stuffed, sitting in the afternoon sun in Champ’s backyard as most of the party has migrated indoors in anticipation of that same sun setting. There are still a few stragglers outside and you’re happy to be one of them - enjoying the sun’s rays while they’re still there to beat down on you. It’s been a lively afternoon and you’ve met a lot of very nice people, but stealing a few minutes alone has been nice, too.
Jack notices you off alone, nursing his beer as he watches you. Wondering what you think about this place, everyone here. He huffs to himself and stands, closing the gap between the two of you with no clue as to why. “Appreciating the silence or wantin’ some company?” He asks, knowing that if you want to be alone he’ll respect that.
“I wouldn’t say no to company.” Shifting to one side on the little bench you’ve been occupying, you make room for him to sit. You’ve always come to the conclusion that it would take a hell of a lot for you to say no to Jack.
He tries to tell himself that he shouldn’t be so pleased that you accepted his presence, but that doesn’t stop the quiet pride filling his chest. “No regrets so far?” He asks, looking over the party. Champ would have found something to make you stay, but he’s curious as to you wanting to be here. “Get your stuff easy enough?”
“I’m planning on running out tomorrow for a few things, but honestly the house is great.” It’s not like you owned that much to begin with, and the house came fully furnished. You’re just going to go wandering around housewares stores tomorrow to pick up some personal touches and to try some local restaurants while you’re out. “Everybody’s been so nice. Astrid actually sent flowers after I settled in, and Champ’s given me a key to the restaurant so I can be in the kitchen whenever I want. It’s all…pretty perfect.”
Jack knows that Champ might have put a tracker in the keys that he gave you. But he doesn’t like the idea of you going to town without some protection. “Want some company? Tomorrow?” Jack hears the edge to his voice and scolds himself for acting like an idiot. “I mean, I’ve got some errands to run and you can put whatever you buy into the back of the Bronco.” He tells himself that he’s responsible, at least until your tattoo on his skin goes away. Still convinced it’s the universe’s idea of a sick joke.
“You wouldn’t mind?” It’s not flirting, you remind yourself, although your heart does seem to pick up speed a little at the offer. “I mean…I was going to have lunch out while I was picking things up. So…my treat? As a thank you for driving?”
It’s his immediate reaction to protest. To remind you that his daddy would box his ears, but he catches your eyes. Pride. He’s more than a little familiar with the trait and he sees that you aren’t one to just expect someone to go and do. That you need to contribute to the outing. So he nods. “If you want, I can take you to my favorite country kitchen.” He offers. “They do a buffet of all the things folks love around here. Give you a feel for the area.”
“I’d love that.” It’s exactly the kind of thing you were hoping to find for yourself, but doing it with him sounds infinitely better. “Most of what I know about Southern cooking comes from my grandma, so I definitely want to try as many local places as I can.”
“Best food ever, although, come hungry.” He warns you. “They will be asking why you aren’t going back for thirds.”
“You’re assuming I wouldn’t happily eat thirds,” you laugh, amused by his serious tone. “I’ll go back every week if it’s that good.”
“Have you ever had cornbread so thin it’s like a pancake and fried until it’s crispy on the edges?” Jack asks you with a grin.
“We have something like that at home.” Johnnycakes are a New England classic, and you fell in love with the quick and tasty cornmeal pancakes during culinary school. “But I can’t wait to try the Southern version.” It sounds like it would be perfect for a caviar service if the tea room ever got that fancy…
“That with a piece of catfish fried to perfection is just like momma used to make.” He confides, winking at you playfully.
“Sounds like heaven.” One of these days you really have to stop shivering whenever he winks at you. But it won’t be today.
“That sounds like a plan.” Jack hates shopping, but he’s not going to let you go out to town by yourself. Or with Tequila, although he knows the boy is leaving on another mission.
“I haven’t lived on my own for a while, so there’s just some finishing touches I don’t have,” you explain, wondering why you feel the need to actually explain yourself at all. It just sort of…compels itself out of your mouth.
“Oh?” It almost startles him how quickly he focuses on that. “Lived with a lover?” He asks. “Statesman will let you bring someone to live with you if you’re trying the long distance thing. It doesn’t work - trust me.”
“I know it doesn’t.” While you didn’t really have any intention of talking about it today, there’s a Nudging feeling inside you that just wants to spill everything to Jack. To lay yourself proverbially bare and let this whole new beginning at Statesman be made of honesty instead of hiding pieces of yourself away. “I—a few years ago, I was with this person. Someone I thought was really going to last, ya know? I mean it wasn’t my soulmate but we had been together for years. Anyway…they got offered a job in New York. And we had all these plans for me to drive down to them and visit on off days and to make things work and they just…” You sigh, hating that everything that happened with your ex still hurts so badly. “It only took them two weeks to find someone else. So I left the apartment we’d been living in with our other friend and moved back in with my family. My little sister had just given birth to my nephew and every pair of hands that could help was welcome.” Rubbing your eyes, you huff ruefully and shrug your shoulders. “Sorry if that’s oversharing, I guess.”
“It’s not.” Jack wants to reach out and hug you, and that’s exactly why he doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve to comfort you and he doesn’t trust himself to not try. “Whoever they were, they were an idiot.” He can’t imagine just finding someone else. Not when you claim to love them. It’s why he’s been very careful to make sure that what he did have was very surface level physical pleasure. He hasn’t had an intimate connection since Abigail. Not real intimacy.
“They’re somebody else’s problem now.” If you wanted to, you could probably argue to yourself that Jack moved closer with this small moment of comfort, but you don’t want to tease yourself like that. You do like him, but it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t see you as more than a potential friend, so you don’t want to push anything. “I appreciate that.”
"Hopefully they step on Legos in the dark for the rest of their life." Jack jokes.
“You are cruel.” It draws a laugh from you anyway, a grateful feeling from being supported in a moment of emotional need. Things like this are easy with Jack - no matter how nervous you may get from your little crush, the softest moments are always easy. “But…on point, honestly. A lifetime of barefoot Lego steps would be pretty suitable.”
He laughs and feels like the moment is light and easy with you. Letting it settle over him like a soft blanket.
“Oh…” The memory hits you immediately and out of nowhere, as you sit in a moment of comfortable silence with Jack. “Tomorrow…I was going to go dress shopping, also. I completely forgot. So…if that doesn’t exactly sound like fun for you, I’ll totally get it.” It would be a disappointment to not spend the day with Jack now that you’ve made the plan, but you can’t imagine that womens’ clothes shopping holds any great appeal for him.
“I don’t mind going dress shoppin’.” Jack shrugs. “You know that it could be fun.” He hums, unable to resist imagining you in a sleek and sexy dress.
“I said yes to this wedding invitation ages ago and I just…haven't had any time to prepare.” The impulse to continue to explain yourself is obviously strong. “The plan was just to ignore my plus one and drive down to Boston on the day, but now it’ll be a flight and a hotel and all kinds of craziness and I—” You shrug. “They’re family, so I can’t just not go. So…I have to find a dress.”
“Wedding huh?” He relaxes slightly and shrugs. “You don’t have to ignore the plus one, I’m sure someone would love to go to a wedding.”
“Well, I’m friendly with about six people at the moment, and four of them are married couples.” Hope flames so strong in your chest that you’re sure he must see it. Maybe misinterpreted as a flash of desperation, but that isn’t it. You’re just…so fucking drawn to him. “So unless you or Tex is willing, I’ll just hang out with my siblings that night like I’ve been planning.”
“When and where is this little shindig happening?” Jack asks, smirking as he imagines perching you on his arm for a wedding and seeing how the rest of your family is. Even though the thought confuses him.
“The Whitney Hotel in Boston, a week from today.” Hope. It flares bright and beautiful in your whole body but you try not to look too much like a fawning schoolgirl. Without knowing how old Jack is, you would guess that he had about ten years on you, and you don’t want to come across as immature when you’re just being sincere.
Instantly, it’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. Except it’s no team celebration for winning a playoff or prank by Tequila. It’s the horror of realizing that you would have met the man you were supposed to be with if Jack hadn’t been there two weeks ago. Guilt curls in Jack’s stomach and the barbecue and baked beans he had eaten along with about a fourth of the dessert table threatens to make a reappearance. “Sounds- sounds good, sugar.” Jack manages to croak as he leaps ungracefully to his feet. “Excuse me.” He can’t even tip his hat towards you before he is rushing across the yard like the hounds of hell are after him.
******
“I miss you guys.” Hours later, on the phone with your sister, you still haven’t quite shaken the unease left behind by Jack’s abrupt exit from the party. Everyone has started going their separate ways by evening time and you had come home with the intention of starting to write out a shopping list for tomorrow, only to be interrupted by a call from Eliza. “How are my little prince and princess doing?”
“Missing their favorite aunt.” She huffs, even though she’s laughing down the phone. “Driving me crazy and asking when they are going to see you again.”
“At Cassie’s wedding.” You promise, shifting the phone in your hand as you look out into your backyard from the bedroom window seat. “I’m not skipping out on my family just because I moved.”
“I felt like you weren’t going to miss it.” She agrees, happy to hear it. “Have you found your dress already?”
“I’m going shopping tomorrow.” Obviously not with her, like you had been planning, but you’re still going to get it done. Even if Jack backs out of coming with you after leaving the party on such a weird note, you still need to go. “I need a couple more things for the house, so tomorrow is going to be dresses and housewares.”
“I’m so excited to see you.” She huffs, even though it’s only been a couple of days. “Are you settling in okay? I’m just amazed that the job comes with housing.”
“It’s like a little company town out here. There’s a whole neighborhood of full time employees and we all have these cute little houses and manicured yards. And the guest room is open any time you want to come visit.” Other places might have made it suspect or oppressive, but Statesman seemed to thrive on being a family company. “The owner even threw a little welcome party this afternoon. Backyard barbecue, amazing drinks, lots of people just hanging out and kids playing. I met most of the higher ups.”
“It sounds amazing. Friendly atmosphere plus booze?” She laughs. “Tell me the men are handsome.”
“I—” You laugh before you can stop yourself, glancing out the window again into the backyard of the house next door - owned by a woman you met today who works in HR. “Yeah. I’m not even going to be coy about it. Some of these men are stunning.”
“Really?” She knows you can hear the wicked grin on her face through the phone. “Tell me allllllll about them. I need a little cowboy in my life.” She laughs again, well aware she’s never even really interacted with one before but you are in the thick of them apparently.
“So…there are two that stick out.” The only person in the world who knows all your stupid relationship and crush bullshit is your sister. She’s been your best friend for your whole life and never wavered. “They both work security, and they’re…” This time when you laugh it’s a slightly embarrassed sound. “They’re really close friends. So I’m trying not to rock any boats by showing interest.”
“Let me guess, there is one of them that’s older and you like that one best?” She knows her sister better than anyone and whether you want to admit it or not, you have an eye for older men.
“Shut up.” There’s no heat whatsoever behind the scolding and you end up laughing at yourself, appreciating that Eliza isn’t beating around the bush with you. “There is, but if you meet him you have to swear not to embarrass me.”
“Ohhhh, I can meet him?” She asks evilly. “Are you bringing him to the wedding?”
“Maybe.” A part of you instantly wishes you hadn’t said anything, but you know that Eliza always has the best advice. “I don’t know. He offered to go shopping with me tomorrow and come to the wedding but then immediately got weird about it and I don’t know what to think. I’m getting super mixed signals from him.”
“Why do you think he got weird about it? Most men get weird about the wedding part, but you said he basically agreed to go with you, right?” She asks.
“He offered, I didn’t even really ask.” The kids in the yard next door are cackling, laughing as they play with their dog, and you watch them so that you don’t relocate to the living room windows downstairs - which gives you a view of Jack’s house. “It’s like…remember I told you I went to a bar earlier in the week and cleaned up some bikers at a pool game?” At the time, you hadn’t exactly told her the entire story.
“Yeah?” On her end of the phone, she ticks her eyebrow up curiously. “Did you go with old handsome?”
“He’s not old!” You both laugh anyway. “But yes. I went with Jack.” There is a longer-than-necessary pause while you debate with yourself, but you end up shrugging your shoulders. “He calls me ‘sugar’, but I really don’t think I should be reading too much into that because even my boss uses nicknames with literally everyone. It’s just a Southern thing.”
“But he wants to go shopping with you?” She reminds you. “Most men hate shopping.”
“It’s not like I’m gonna let him into the dressing room.” You protest, although you immediately think that if he made a move, you probably would.
“Sure you wouldn’t.” Clearly not believing your bullshit, she laughs. “Maybe he has something weird about the date? A Valentine’s Day wedding is very sappy.”
“Maybe. I really don’t know. And I don’t want to pry, ya know? Because as much as I get mixed signals from Jack, Tex has been nothing but sweet.” Talking it out will help, you tell yourself. It absolutely is not just going to pave the way for further frustration…
“But you don’t really want sweet.” She guesses. “Do you? You’ve always been attracted to the troublemakers.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re both trouble.” Another laugh bubbles out of you and you shake your head. “Remember the guy that came back on the jet with me to help me pack? That was Tex.”
“Oh he was cute, you mean the other one is even better looking? You better bring his ass to the wedding.” She huffs. “Bring both of them.”
“You want me to just strut into our cousin’s wedding with a cowboy in either arm?” God…your whole family would just lose their minds…
“Fuck…a girl can dream can’t she?” Your sister giggles. “I’ll be living vicariously through you.”
“Oh please.” Rolling your eyes is a useless gesture because she can’t see you, but you’re sure she can hear it in your voice. “Is having a surgeon for a husband not enough of a bragging right anymore?” You adore her husband - They’ve been together since high school and discovered their soulmate status after she graduated - but that doesn’t mean you won’t tease her. “Picture perfect kids, a successful husband, and your own amazing career aren’t doing the trick these days?”
“Nope.” She has zero shame and you know it. “I want to hear how hot cowboy sex is.”
When you huff at her it’s supposed to be indignant, but it comes out completely agonized. “If I ever have any, I promise I’ll let you know. But I genuinely doubt I have an actual chance.”
“Please, you’re gorgeous and it sounds like both of them are sniffing around.” She teases. “They want your sugar.”
“I never should have told you that,” you groan, knowing it will probably never die now.
“Hell no, you should save a horse and ride a cowboy.” She laughs and loves how you are sounding better. She knows about your loss of a soulmate and how much it has affected you.
“Oookay.” Snickering, you let out a sigh that is actually more like a half-groan and wipe one hand down your face. “Tell the kids I love them, will you? I’m going to see if I can get some sleep. I think I ate my body weight in barbecue today and it’s catching up with me.”
“I will, okay. I love you,” As much as she misses you, it’s best that you have a fresh start and it sounds like Kentucky is a good place for you.
“I love you, too.” Faintly on the other end, you can hear your mother’s dog barking and laugh softly. The sounds of home are absolute comfort and you do miss it. But this is the right place for you to be right now. “I’ll try to text you a sneaky picture of Jack tomorrow.”
“You better.” She warns you with a cackle. “Otherwise I’m going to embarrass you when he comes to the wedding.”
“If.” The nagging feeling you have that he doesn’t want to go is very real, but there’s nothing you can do about it. He either will or he won’t, and that’s that. ��I’ll talk to you later in the week.” Another round of goodbyes is murmured before you hang up, and you sit in the window seat a while longer before dragging yourself to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
******
Jack feels like an ass. No– he is an ass. Actin’ like a fucking pup who had been scolded as he shot across the lawn and away from you. There’s nothing coincidental about where your little wedding is being held and he knows that artistically culinary talented you would have made your way to the kitchens even if they were off limits. He just knows it. Now, he’s watching your house like a damned stalker. Wanting to still keep his promises even though you might slam the door in his face. Spending most of the night up, hearing Abigail’s voice in his head, chewing him a new one for not apologizing for his behavior earlier. As soon as he sees movement, Jack is out the door. His jeaned legs eating up the distance between your house and his, ready to go if you're still wanting, and ready to apologize and just let you use his Bronco if you’re not.
Up, showered, and dressed after a night of lousy sleep and bad dreams, you drag yourself downstairs to make a cup of coffee. This coffeemaker is going to be the first thing you replace, you’ve decided, because you can finally afford a fancy espresso machine like you’ve always wanted. Kitchen gadgets are happening today, and it’s going to be a good time. Whether you go alone or otherwise, you tell yourself. Not knowing what the hell happened with Jack yesterday, you’re not assuming you’ll see him. Until your doorbell rings. Hopefully that’s just Jack holding up his promise to come with you, and not some random coworker wondering if you’ll be coming to church with them.
Shuffling on your small porch, Jack adjusts his hat before he swipes it off his head altogether. Nervous as a teenager going to his first dance, Jack rolls his eyes at himself. He just needs to relax, but for some reason he can't. He doesn't like the idea of you being mad at him. His stomach flips as he hears you walking towards the door.
The door swings open without a single creak, and you bite the inside of your lip when you see him standing there on your porch. “Morning, Jack,” you murmur, stepping aside to let him in. Whether this is an excuse not to come out today or an explanation for his departure last night, you have to admit that you’re just glad to see him. It means you probably didn’t do some unknown mysterious horrible thing to make him hate you - which is definitely what every dream you had last night was about.
Your neutral greeting gives him a smidgeon of hope and feels tension draining away in minute amounts. "Sugar, I-" He steps inside and huffs. "I need to apologize for leavin' so quickly yesterday." He turns and stares at you with a repentant expression on his face. "After makin' a fool of myself, I realized we didn't set our plans for today in concrete and while you might not even want the addition of my presence to your outing, I didn't want to be even more of an asshole and not show up." He manages to rattle this off in one breath and stops to inhale. "However, if you're wishin' to not be in my company, I at least want to offer the use of my bronco to you, since that had been a main sellin' point of the day." Offering for someone to drive Betsy is unheard of, but he's pulling his keys out of his leather jacket to extend them to you if you want.
Verbose. Jack Daniels is a verbose man, who can and will turn any four word sentence into four paragraphs. But you don’t hate that - it flies in the face of ‘quick’ communication like texting or shouting across a kitchen. It’s kind of nice, actually, when you’re not generally upset. “Did I say something wrong?” You finally ask, looking from his keys up to the sincere expression of reticence on his face. “Or did I do something to make you leave?”
"No." Jack assures you quickly, shaking his head and wondering how the hell he could possibly explain. "It was all me, sugar. All me and I apologize for worryin' you. It was never- I feel nearly sick at the idea of makin' you think that you had done anything." He's going to just pray you don't ask him for details.
“But everything’s okay?” If it wasn’t you, then it likely was something personal, and he seems like a fairly private person. A conclusion that’s only being reinforced by the fact that he hasn’t actually explained what happened. You decide, though, that you’ve only known the man a week and he doesn’t owe you his life story, so a sincere apology is enough.
"Right as rain, sugar." He manages to paint on a half grin, rocking forward towards you and there is a magnetism that he feels, like he's being drawn to you. "Does this mean you might still want me to squire you around town?" It's old fashioned and a little a lot flirty, but it feels right.
“Do you want a cup of coffee before we go?” Closing the front door is the silent signal that you want him to stay, and you can feel relief coursing through you that he seems to want to do this. The last thing you would ever want to do is drag him along unwillingly.
"If you're havin' one. If not, we can always swing by the best little coffee shop in town." Jack offers, not wanting to inconvenience you.
“We could do that.” Instead of retreating back into the kitchen, you reach for your jacket and purse instead. “A new coffee maker is on the list of things we’re picking up today.”
Jack chuckles as looks at your standard Mr. Coffee maker that was left in the cabins. "Doesn't quite do it for you?" He guesses, figuring you drink those fancy coffees with art made from the foam.
“My very first job was as a barista in a bakery in the town where I grew up,” you tell him. Keys, phone, purse, jacket, you’ve got everything you need so you open the door again and move to set the alarm via the panel on the wall. “I started drinking espresso and never looked back.”
"Figured." He gives a small chuckle and waits for you patiently, his hand moving to the small of your back when the two of you set out of the cabin and you close the door behind you. "Have you set up your biometric lock yet?" He asks, noticing that you are using the fob for the door.
“Not yet.” Keys go into your purse and you close your eyes momentarily against the warmth of his hand at your back. “Someone is coming tomorrow morning to set it up. Then I’ll lock myself in the kitchen at the restaurant and bake cakes all day.”
"What kind of cakes?" Jack immediately starts drooling, imagining what you might make. His sweet tooth is happy at the prospect.
“Well everybody seemed to like the coconut cake, so I think I’ll leave that recipe alone.” He opens the door of the Bronco for you and you slide in, loving that Kentucky in February is warm enough for an open air drive. “I think I’ll work on the red velvet or a hummingbird cake first. Try to nail down the classics.”
"Diana will adore you if you make her a fancy red velvet." Jack promises you as the two of you get situated in the truck and he turns the engine over. "And Champ will adore you for his wife being happy."
“They’re very sweet together.” The older couple have been nothing but lovely and welcoming to you, and you’re grateful for it. “And I wouldn’t dare open a tea room in the south without red velvet cake on the menu.”
"Maybe one of those scone thingys." Jack rolls his eyes. "She's always talkin' about how no one makes scones here."
"I can do scones." Any suggestions he has are more than welcome, as they give you a pretty good idea of what people in the area are actually looking to eat and that helps you focus your energy while you're putting together your menu. "Scones. Tea sandwiches. Maybe tartlets or quiches. I have way too many ideas."
"Was this always your dream?" He asks, pulling onto the main road and heading towards town. It's in the opposite direction of the bar he had taken you to the first time, but it's amusing to think that he has been showing you all the area himself.
"For my career?" You glance at him as he drives, recognizing the placid look of contentment there. He likes to drive, and you file that away in the back of your mind. "I mean, I did have a pretty decent stretch of time as a kid where I wanted to be a princess, and then about a month in middle school when I decided that I wanted to build a time machine, but...yeah. I pretty much always knew I wanted to be a chef. The debate was savory or pastry, and obviously pastry won."
"You're good at both." He promises you with a chuckle, enjoying the sass that seems to come naturally to you. "A princess, huh?" He looks over at you with a grin. "You know that job title comes with a high chance of being stuck in a tower, right?"
"Yeah, but traditionally it also comes with a handsome prince and really good clothes, so nine-year-old me was okay with it." When he laughs softly you grin, glad to see the tension between you has dissipated. "What about you? Was CEO of an international distillery always on your radar?"
"Definitely not." Jack shakes his head and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "Smaller plans. Much smaller." He thinks about all the dreams him and Abigail had talked about, laying in the dark and holding onto one another. "Just a happy life, family, you know - the normal stuff."
"Not everything happens early in life. Sometimes the best things are worth waiting for." Obviously he never got his wish - or at least he hasn't yet - and you frown slightly. Surely he hasn't had any shortage of offers? He must be waiting for his soulmate, and you can't blame him for that.
"Yeah." It's better to agree instead of laying out his own sob story. He knows it would make you soft, probably make you want to comfort him and although he's enough of a man to appreciate the ways women love to comfort widowers - he can't do that with you. He's already doing more than he needs. He should be maintaining some distance but he can't quite stay away.
"It's none of my business." You know that, and can recognize it, but there's something about Jack that just continues to draw you like a magnet. "But if you ever want to talk about it...you very literally know where I live."
"I appreciate it, sugar." He does, he really does but he doesn't want to talk about that right now. Not when the day is turning out to be a beautiful one.
The drive turns back to pleasanter topics and Jack lets you play with the radio, laughing when you settle on a classic rock station just before he pulls into the parking lot of his little coffee shop. There are plenty of chains around - Louisville is a city after all - but Jack prefers this little place to Starbucks or - according to him - just about any place else.
“The corporate places are okay- don’t get me wrong, but you can’t get that hankering for something unusual and bring in what you need and have them make it for you like you can here.” He offers, opening the door onto the small coffee shop.
The smell is brilliant, hitting you in the face all at once, and you inhale almost greedily. Whatever sweets they're doing here, they're baking fresh. It washes over you and makes you eager to get up to the counter to see what they're working with. "What's your favorite?" You ask Jack, seeing a fairly standard bar menu when it comes to coffee drinks, but a plethora of tea options and syrups for flavor.
Jack grins at you, sure that you’re going to give him a dirty look. “Plain black coffee.”
"I can't believe you don't drink sweet coffee with the way you go after desserts." Is it teasing? Probably. But it's still a surprise.
“The bitterness of the coffee enhances the sweets.” Jack argues, huffing slightly. “I will have some of that syrup in a coffee if I’m not having a pastry with it, but that’s rare.”
"You know you don't have to defend that to me." You nudge him a little as the two of you step into line. "I always put a little coffee in my chocolate things. It amps up the flavor so much."
“Well then you should know.” He grins, eyes greedy as they roam over the case. Trying to see what they have for today. “They change pastries daily.”
"How often do you come in here?" It must be a lot, judging from the way the baristas call their hellos to him by name, and the cup of coffee already waiting for him at the counter when the two of you finally make it to the front of the line.
"It's my go to spot when I'm in town." He admits, shooting the girls behind the counter a wink and a nod for the coffee. "I'll take one of those sausage, maple and blueberry crumb cakes." He tells the one waiting for his pastry order. "They look good."
"Could I have one of the tomato, leek, and goat cheese quiches?" You ask, when the girl nods to Jack and asks you for your order right away. "And a café au lait of whatever your single origin coffee in today." The cashier dutifully types everything in, gets your milk preference, and gets everything moving. "Is it even worth my offering to pay?" You ask Jack, slightly smirking at how you had to bargain to even get him to allow you to pay for lunch when you planned out today.
"Nope." Jack shakes his head and his own wallet comes out. "I don't think you understand how badly my daddy would whoop my ass." He chuckles.
"Thank you for breakfast, then." If it's something he feels strongly about, then you'll learn to pick your battles. He's sure as hell not paying for any of your shopping today. "I wouldn't want your daddy to appear out of nowhere just because I'm stubborn."
"He'd be coming from the grave, so don't put it past him." Jack jokes, shuffling down the line and collecting his cup while you wait for the pastries and your own coffee. "Man could probably convince Satan himself to open the gates of hell to let him come back to whoop me."
You snort, laughing as you bring over plates of warm pastries and your oversized coffee to the table he has chosen. "Sounds like our fathers would have gotten along," you admit ruefully. "I love my dad but he is a ballbuster of the highest degree."
"Something about a father that does that." He murmurs, remembering his own pride at learning he was going to be papa. It had been the proudest seven months of his life.
"Yeah, I noticed that with my brother-in-law." Everything looks amazing, and you hum happily over the first sip of your coffee. Sweet and creamy but not overpowering the natural flavors of the coffee. You might have to see if this shop is interested in partnering, so you can use their coffee in the restaurant.
Jack is damn thankful that you didn't pick up on the momentary flash of pain, maybe he hid it well enough. Instead of saying anything else about it, he just ticks a brow up. "So? Whadya think?"
He had to ask while you have food in your mouth? You roll your eyes at him for a second but grin, nodding as you finish chewing the perfect first bite. Choosing not to say anything about the dark clouds in his eyes was apparently a good choice - you're just desperate not to do anything to rock the boat between you. "It's sooo good," you groan after a second, laughing at your own exaggerated reaction.
"Try some of mine." He offers, nudging a piece of his crumb cake with scrambled sausage, fresh blueberries and dots of real maple syrup over towards you along with his plain coffee.
Immediately offering him the same, you both try each others' breakfasts and hum happily. Whatever this place is using for their house coffee blend, it works gorgeously with maple. You'll have to remember that if they agree to a partnership. "So everything is good here? That's the vibe I'm getting?"
"Eh." Jack shrugs. "I don't like some of their stuff. Their cookies are a little too crumbly. I like 'em soft and chewy."
"How do you feel about shortbread?" The question comes with a raised eyebrow as you switch breakfasts again and file away Jack's cookie preferences. You're still not sure why you're so invested in making sure that everything you make is going to be to his taste, but it feels important that it is.
"Only if they have a sweet jam on top or sandwiched between layers." Jack admits, giving a small shrug.
"You realize that you have been all of my menu consults so far?" You ask him, thoroughly enjoying your breakfast and trying not to look too embarrassed or eager about that fact. "I ought to just call the place Jack's."
The joke makes him grin, contemplating it seriously for a moment before he shakes his head. "You don't have to take all my advice, sugar. I just like what you're offerin'."
"I'm sure I'll make something that doesn't suit you but everyone else likes, and that's fine." It's an inevitability of your career. Not everyone is going to like every single item on the menu. But that's why having multiple testers is important. "Champ's giving me three months to get the place up and running. He wants to have it ready for the summer tourist season, so I'll be asking for plenty more opinions before that time comes."
"I'm sure it will be amazing." Jack praises honestly. "You seem like you have a passion for makin' people happy and their belt tighter."
"Hopefully." The sting is unexpected - how the thought that smacks you out of nowhere is wondering whether or not your soulmate would have liked your baking. "Hopefully."
Jack sees the way your mood shifts, and he knows it's because of him. From what he can tell, you had been looking forward to a future with your soulmate and he's taken that from you. Guilt settles on him and suddenly, he's not hungry anymore.
An uneasy silence settles between you and you know it's your fault, the thick melancholy hanging over your shoulders making you blurt out and unasked for explanation. "My soulmate died," you tell him, not able to actually look him in the eye but staring into your coffee instead. "Less than two weeks ago. So I'm sorry if I get...awkward sometimes. I never met them or anything, it's just...it's hard to adjust to."
His stomach drops and he opens his mouth to confess. To take the look of sadness off your face and replace it with anger. Maybe it would help you. Help you focus on something else, direct your emotions on hating him. His lips part and the words are on the tip of his tongue. "I'm sorry," is what comes out instead. "I know how you feel, losing someone - I mean."
"Did you--?" Your fingers squeeze into fists on the table, curling in on yourself to try to keep from crying in public. Jack is the first person beyond your immediate family that you've told, and saying the words out loud again makes you ache. "Your soulmate?"
He figures it's safe. That if you know he's lost a soulmate you wouldn't think he has your marks on his body. After all, he's never heard of another set of soulmates in real life. It's always that hopeful whisper. "Yeah." He admits, frowning slightly and reaching out for your hands to cover them with his before he realizes he's doing it. "Her and- and our little boy."
"Oh my god..." Immediately feeling mortified, your fingers open to squeeze his instead of letting your nails bite into your palm. "I'm so sorry. Here I am getting upset about someone I never even met and you...you lost both of them. Shit, Jack."
"It was a long time ago." Jack offers, not wanting you to feel even worse than you do. "You just- it's different. You are allowed to grieve, sugar."
"I think it's part of why I took this job," you admit, feeling all the thoughts you've been keeping a lid on come bubbling to the surface. "A new start, ya know? A brand new life. I have no idea what it would have been like if I had known them, but I'm willing to bet anything that I wouldn't be working at Statesman if I had." Something makes you absolutely certain of it, in fact, and that's almost comforting. Everything in this new life is something you'll choose for yourself.
Jack's nodding covers the way that he swallows, knowing that you had no choice in this. The ink on his skin makes sure that you would end up at Statesman. He can only hope that you are happy here. "Statesman was my fresh start." He tells you honestly.
“And look how well you’ve done for yourself.” The smile on your face might actually be pride, except you have no claim over him in any kind of way that would justify that feeling. “All the way to CEO. I don’t think that it’s…any kind of exaggeration at all…to think that she’d be so proud of you.”
He tells himself that you are trying to be nice. Smiling weakly and giving a small shrug. "Hopefully so."
“Well,” you shrug, sensing that the topic isn’t exactly comforting to him, and pick up your coffee again. “I would be, if I were your soulmate.”
Jack closes his eyes and gives a soft chuckle. "If I were your soulmate, you'd hate me, sugar." He tells you, knowing that the secret he keeps from you would completely change your thoughts on him.
“I doubt it.” There are very few people on earth that you actually hate, and you can’t imagine a single thing he could ever do to cause that kind of reaction from you. “But I guess we’ll never know.”
"Yeah." That was true because he knew that no one was going to tell you. You would be happy and safe here at Statesman, maybe meet someone and fall in love with them, never aware that Jack is your soulmate. He frowns deeply at that thought and takes a sip of his coffee as he wonders why he hates that idea.
******
Dragging him around Pottery Barn and Williams-Sonoma ends up being a fully entertaining morning after an awkward breakfast. The shiny kitchen appliances and soft, fluffy throw pillows and blankets that end up in his Bronco pile up, punctuated with scented candles, a few decor pieces, and a beautiful full set of dishes and glasses for your table. The house stuff is easy, earns you a little teasing here and there, and is done before you know it.
"Where to now, sugar?" Jack asks, raising a brow at everything that is packed in the back. "Your dress or you want some more knick knacks?" He is in an indulgent mood and the slight bickering you had entertained him with had showcased how funny you are.
“Seems like dress time. I think I can put off more knick-knacks for another day.” You laugh and roll your eyes at him playfully. Jack had ragged on you the entire time you were in Bath & Body Works picking out scented candles, just as bad as the search for decor items in Pottery Barn. “You keep teasing me and I’m gonna make you buy me flowers for my new vase.”
"Aww, sugar, now you've gone and ruined my housewarming gift." He huffs, scowling at you playfully. He hadn't really been thinking about getting you flowers, but now that you mention it - it seems like a fine idea. "I'll get you the best ragweed Kentucky has to offer."
“If you do, you’ll lose taste testing privileges.” That is a very real threat, since your allergies affect your senses of smell and taste fairly dramatically. Allergies have cost you more than one exam grade in culinary school.
"No ragweed. Check." Jack drolls, just to make you laugh as he guides the Bronco towards some boutique that the women folk went to. Ginger had designed several outfits for formal affairs off what she had seen there.
“This is fancy.” When he pulls up in front of the building you can see into the big picture windows. Ladies sitting on settees with glasses of champagne that is probably cava - just as delicious at a third of the price - and women in crisp suits toting beautiful gowns in and out of dressing rooms.
"Hopefully you can find something beautiful here." He tells you. "They dress a lot of people around here for fancy things."
“Statesman people for fancy Statesman things?” You both climb out of the truck and he leads you to the door, giving you the feeling once more that all his gentlemanly behavior is just how he is with women and has nothing to do with you. Which is fine. It is. You’re just trying to talk your crush down off that ledge before you do or say something stupid. “I’m sure I’ll find something.” But your credit card will be laid respectfully to rest after today for a very long time.
"Sometimes." Jack grins. "We get a hell of a discount here."
“Now you’re talking my language.” The grin you shoot him is broad, morphing into something infinitely more amused when the woman behind the counter recognizes him immediately. “Mr. Daniels!” She practically purrs. “What can we do for you on this beautiful day?”
"Now Stephanie..." Jack turns and introduces you to the shop owner. "This here is our newest Statesman employee and she's lookin' for a dress." He tells her. "And of course, your shop was the first and only one I could recommend to her."
“Oh, you’re too kind.” She titters, downright blushing like he’s just outright flirted. It makes your stomach twist in something awful like jealousy. “My dear, what occasion do you need to be dressed for?”
“Um…a formal wedding.” You know you should have taken care of this ages ago, but if you’re honest with yourself you had just figured you would raid your sister’s closet and called it a day. She has plenty of nice things. “Black tie optional, the invitation said.”
"Black tie." She purses her lips and cuts her eyes over at Jack playfully. "I'm assuming you're attending and wearing the velvet Tom Ford we tailored to you with the black stetson?" She asks, tapping her finger to chin thoughtfully. "We will get a bow tie and pocket square that matches the color of the dress we find her." She decides.
“I really appreciate the help.” That’s undeniable. Clearly you hadn’t managed to get this done just by walking through a mall. “The, uh…the wedding colors are pink and white…if that helps? Obviously no one wears white to a wedding but I guess no pink, either?”
"Red is a no-no." She hums and her eyes light up as she thinks of a dress. "What about a blush champagne colored dress?" She offers. "I have a new design I just got in and it would look magnificent with your coloring."
"That sounds like a good place to start." You nod gratefully and let her whisk the pair of you over to one of the smaller sitting areas beside a dressing room. As soon as she disappears down a hallway another young woman appears with drinks and all but winks at Jack when she hands his over.
Jack winks back at her and nods in appreciation of the drink before he turns to you. "What do you think of this place?" He asks, looking around at it like he hasn't been there a hundred times.
"I have a feeling I'm nowhere near the first woman you've brought here for a dress." It's just an observation, and you try very hard not to sound sour about it, but your stomach is churning as you set your drink down on the small table beside you. "It's nice. They obviously take pride in their business."
"Well, I've brought Astrid, Gabriella, Diana when she wanted to surprise Champ." Jack ticks off names playfully, aware that's not how you meant it, but it's kind of rewarding to see the tinge of jealousy in your eyes.
"I do...appreciate you doing this." There is absolutely no reason to be jealous. Just because you have a stupid crush on the man does not mean he owes you anything. "I know it's a big ask, this whole weekend away thing. Even more so because we really just met."
He gives you a smile, shoving down the worries and insecurities under the veneer of confidence. "It's not a big deal, we'll go and drink, dance, have some canapés and you'll tell me who is the family black sheep and I'll make friends with them."
You snort, shaking your head at him and reaching for your drink as an anchor. "You already have," you tell him honestly. "I'm her."
"Now why would you be the black sheep?" Jack huffs, shaking his head at the mere thought.
"It's more like my family are the black sheep family out of the whole extended group." Having very independent and capable parents with strong opinions had meant that you and your siblings turned out just as independent and opinionated. "But my siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles and all of that...even my parents...they all have really incredible success stories in their education and careers, and everyone in my family has married their soulmate. No one is even going to believe that the restaurant is real. They all turned up their noses when I chose pastry in culinary school. Apparently bakers can't be celebrity chefs, and if I'm not a celebrity chef then I'm nobody." You shrug, long having since given up on gaining the approval of your extended family. "My parents and my siblings are great. And that's really all I care about."
"Ahhhh." Jack nods as he settles back in his chair. "I bet you would blow their fifty dollar socks off when you get your tea room set up. Have you come up with a name yet?"
"I'm still debating." One sip from your glass proves that you were right about the theory that it was cava to save money, but it's still a lovely glass of bubbly. "An Alice in Wonderland reference probably won't mesh with the general feeling around Statesman, so I might name it after my grandmother."
Jack gives a small shrug. "You could always call it The Rabbit-Hole and use the Red Rabbit Burrow blend they are working on marketing for." He tells you, thinking about the new line that is about to come out.
You stare, mouth open, and a hollow laugh sticks in your throat while your brain vaguely short circuits. If you had known about this new blend, you would already have the name down on the paperwork. "I could kiss you." Is the declaration that comes out of your mouth instead, gratitude and giddy glee reaching all the way to your toes. "Jack, that's perfect!"
It's on the tip of his tongue to take you up on that offer, watching your eyes light up with delight and joy. Making you seem even more beautiful than you normally are. "It's going to be launching in about five months." He tells you with an offhand shrug. "I can get you a few gallons to sample and experiment with if you want."
"That would be amazing." You're already itching to get your hands on it, wondering what the tasting notes will be like and what you can pair it with. "The Rabbit-Hole." Humming happily, you barely manage to keep your little wiggling happy dance under wraps when the woman - Stephanie - comes back with a handful of dresses.
Jack takes your glass of champagne from you and smirks. “Go play with the dresses and pretend you're a princess, sugar.” He winks and motions you off.
The large handful of dresses that Stephanie has reappeared with are grand and sparkling in tone of gold, champagne, and rose that will obviously compliment a pink-themed wedding but not upstage it. She seems to have picked out a style she likes for you - glamorous and evoking a bombshell look that would guarantee that the first person anyone in the room looks at after the bride, will be you. "These are stunning," you breathe, letting your fingers graze the sequins on the first dress on the rack. "I've never worn anything like them. But...I guess after today I won't be able to say that."
“Try them all on.” Jack encourages you. “We don’t have anywhere else to be.”
He's right, of course. The only other plan you have today is to have dinner together, so you disappear into the fitting room to swap your clothes for the first dress that might wind up in your closet by the end of the afternoon. The cut is flattering and the color is brilliant, but it doesn't quite feel right in some amorphous way that you can't quite put your finger on. Still, you step out to show Jack and see what he has to say.
Jack whistles and his eyes drag up and down your body. “Damn, sugar.” He huffs. “How do you like it?”
You can't help preening a little, even though you're sure he would compliment absolutely anyone he was with the same way. "It's nice, but I don't think it's quite right. I do love the color, though."
“Well then I guess we can mark that off the list.” Jack smirks. “Next one sugar.”
The next two dresses are nixed - one by you and one by Jack, who insists that the skirt doesn't fall right and you just end up smiling and nodding because you're trying not to spontaneously combust from him paying so much attention to your figure. When you go back into the dressing room, you skip the next one that Stephanie had chosen for you and go straight to the last, sighing over the flowers embroidered all over the dress and its accompanying sheer cape. The rose coloured fabric is darker than the Barbie-pink you know your cousin has chosen and the purple and gold accents make it fascinating to watch shimmer. It's gorgeous and the price tag makes you wince, but you have to try it on.
When you step out of the dressing room, Jack immediately stands and sweeps his hat off his head as he stares. “This- this is the one, sugar.” His body tells him that he really likes the way you look and he motions towards the mirror. “What do you think?”
"It's amazing." His reaction doesn't hurt either, and you turn to face the wall-sized mirror beside your dressing room. The cape falling around your shoulders is the closest to being a princess you'll ever come, and you glance at Jack over your shoulder as you watch your reflection. "It's so comfortable," you admit, laughing that that is so exciting to you when you're wearing such a gorgeous piece of art.
“So this is the one? Yeah?” Jack waits for you to nod and then turns to Stephanie. “Does there need to be any alterations?”
"A slight hem, depending on what shoes your friend will be wearing." Stephanie smiles, making sure to stay polite. "Oh...I guess I do need shoes, don't I?" Turning around in place, you look between them both. "I'm not too steady on high high heels, but...can a hem be done this week? The purchase is...sort of last minute." "I can have it done by mid week for you." Stephanie assures you, stepping forward to inspect the dress on your body and make sure she's correct that nothing more needs to be done. "We do have some heels here, if you would like to look. Gold will work well, or we can dye a fabric pair to match the gown if you prefer."
Jack chuckles. “Go check the shoes out, sugar.” As much as he doesn’t ‘shop’, he’s enjoying himself. Enjoying learning things about you. Maybe it’s crazy, he doesn’t know, but he looks at it like he’s taking care of you. Making you happy.
With a few very careful steps, you get down from the little platform that your dressing room was on and follow the saleswoman around the corner to a large display of heels in nearly two dozen shapes, styles, and heights. There are so many that it’s a bit overwhelming, but your eyes settle on a pair with intricate caging and open toes that will strap onto your feet and hopefully not move an inch all night. Something worth putting up with high heels for. “What about these?” You ask out loud, almost afraid to see this price tag on top of the dress.
Stephanie chuckles, actually chuckles and admires the boldness of your choice. “They are statement pieces, aren’t they?” She reaches for the shoes and pulls them off the display. “They are gorgeous and actually probably some of the more comfortable heels. Let me get your size and we will see how they look?”
“Thank you.” Your fingers subtly stroke the fabric of the dress as she retrieves your shoe size from the back and you walk back to where Jack is waiting.
Jack looks up, still in awe of the way the dress looks on you and gives you a smile. “Are they dying shoes or did you find some?”
“I saw a nice gold pair. Hopefully they have my size.” There’s only a moment of hesitation before you go back into the dressing room, retrieving your cell phone from your pants pocket to bring it out to him. “Would you…mind taking a picture? I…it’s silly. I just really want to show my sister.”
“One without the shoes and one with?” Jack guesses with an indulgent and slightly naughty grin. “I never have a problem taking a picture of a beautiful woman, sugar.”
Stephanie returns with the shoes while your face is still burning from Jack’s compliments. Absolutely no part of this is what you figured today would be like. You had pictures hunting through the dress department at Dillard’s quickly so as not to bore Jack, coming up with something passable but unremarkable. This is an altogether opposite experience to that - and definitely the closest to being a princess that you’ve ever felt.
Jack hums as Stephanie brings the shoes over and you sit down on one of those little poofy circle things women love. Standing, he moves over to you. “Let me help you put them on, sugar.” He murmurs silkily as he drops down to one knee in front of you and takes the shoes from the other woman.
It’s a damn Cinderella moment and all you can do is sit, frozen, trying not to react to the strength and gentleness of Jack’s large hands working the delicate straps on the heels. It’s not that you have a foot fetish, or anything even akin to it. It’s the warm way your skin tingles under his touch and the absolute intimacy of helping someone get dressed that have you holding your breath while Stephanie makes her unnoticed escape. You two clearly ought to be left alone.
He’s never thought of a foot as pretty. Never given them much thought beyond walking and laughing then Abigail had stuck her feet in his lap and demanded foot rubs for carrying his boy. He had acquiesced every time willingly. Now he keeps his fingers light as they move, sliding across your skin or holding your heel while he slips the heels on and buckles the straps.
It’s soft. Gentle. And you have no fucking clue why having him help you with your shoes has you in the verge of tears but here you are. Once they’re in place you shift slightly on the pouf, not sure that you want to break the spell of whatever the hell was just happening, but you need to see if the damn things are actually going to work for you. “Would you…?” You hold your hands out to him awkwardly, asking for help up.
“Of course, sugar.” Jack stands and dusts off his pants before he offers his hand to you with a wink and a slightly embellished flourish. “A Princess should not stand on her own.”
The way you huff is quiet - almost mournful but more like boarding indignant as he helps you to stand and just keeps you in front of him like this. Looking you over like it’s his privilege instead of a right. “If you treat the women you’ve just made friends with like this,” you observe, trying to shake off how special it makes you feel. “I don’t understand how somebody hasn’t snatched you up since being single.” You shrug, a little gesture but an honest one. “That’s just to say…your wife was a very lucky woman.”
“No sugar, I was the lucky one.” He promises, shoving down the wave of sadness and bitterness so he can concentrate on you. You deserve to feel beautiful at this moment. “Remember, manners maketh man.”
“Not in a dress shop, I hope.” A little smile crosses your lips, remembering he had said the same thing before taking those bikers to task a week ago. “And…it’s possible for you both to have been lucky. That’s—that’s what finding a soulmate is. At least…that’s what it seems like.”
It slips out, the dreaded words he hated for so long. “Maybe you will be lucky and have another soulmate.” He murmurs, knowing that according to the universe - you do.
You’ve heard those words before. From your father and brother, mostly, and you paint on the patient smile that you offered both of them when they said it. “Second soulmates are a fairy tale,” you remind him gently. “They don’t happen in real life. I’ll— I’ll just be glad if I ever find somebody willing to put up with my own specific brand of weird bullshit. That’s the dream now.” Companionship, not true love. That’s the best that you’ll dare to hope for.
He sees the brittleness in your smile because he has been far less kind with those words spoken to him. “I know.” He murmurs. “We just have to say it, right? It’s almost required.”
“Right.” You nod, stepping away from him before you say something incredibly stupid, and move back to the mirror to see the dress with these shoes on. It’s a spectacular combination and your smile softens, wondering what your soulmate would have thought of this kind of glamor.
Jack takes the picture you asked for and hands you back the phone. “Excuse me for a moment, sugar. Too much champagne, and I need to use the facilities.” He steps away, disappearing from the private dressing room.
******
“Mr. Daniels.” Stephanie’s head pops up from the front desk in surprise when she spots him, looking like he’s slinked away from where he was supposed to be. “Did you require assistance?”
“Sure can, darlin’.” Jack pulls out his wallet and lays down his credit card. “Everything she wants goes on this card. Tell her that it’s on the Statesman account and she’ll be billed at a heavy discount.” He requests, needing to buy that dress for you for some strange reason.
“You don’t want her to know it’s a gift?” She asks, head tilting slightly like she’s intrigued at the request.
“No.” Jack shakes his head adamantly. “This is a secret between you and me.” He makes it seem more charming with a wink and a flash of a flirty smile.
“Alright.” She’s damn well not going to question it. Not when she makes a commission. “Shall I encourage your friend to peruse our jewelry and clutches to complete the outfit, or would you prefer to keep the purchase small?”
“Whatever she wants.” Jack reiterates. Perhaps some of it is that underlying guilt that springs up around you, but this is mostly to make sure you look amazing at an event where your family will be.
“Very good.” Offering him a nod, she enters his credit card information into the purchase order under your name and hands it back with a smile. “If it’s not overstepping, the two of you do make a very sweet couple.”
“I wouldn’t be good for her.” Jack murmurs as he shoves his wallet back into his back pocket and sighs. “Now to actually use the bathroom.”
When Jack does return several minutes later, you are changed back into your own clothes and pour over a small display of gold earrings with Stephanie. “Hey!” Your smile is wide and true, eyes lighting up when you see him. “For a second there I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m harder to shake than a tic on a dog’s ass, sugar.” Jack jokes, just to make you giggle at his inappropriate comeback.
“Noted,” you snicker, even more amused because Stephanie looks so horrified. “I swear I’m almost done here, and then we can get dinner.”
“Take your time, sugar. The decorations make the cake more delicious.” Jack muses.
“He says to a baker.” This time you throw him a wink, deciding that playful things are just that much more fun today. It doesn’t matter that he’s just being kind, whereas you would willingly and easily drag him into that dressing room to find out exactly how much of that cocky attitude actually comes from his cock.
Grinning, he can’t help the way that his cock twitches in his jeans. You are a sexy woman and even more so when you are playful. He likes that in a woman. “So go on and pick out your doodads.” He motions towards the display case. “Gotta work up an appetite.”
Doodads. You shake your head, feeling the action be much more affectionate than you meant for it to be, and turn back to the case of jewelry in various colors, tones, and styles. The earrings you end up picking are simple but beautiful sparkling gold stud, and a nearby soft fabric clutch in gorgeous metallic gold. Stephanie tries directing you to other pieces like elaborate bracelets, but you just end up wrapping your hand around the simple gold cuff you wear every day on your wrist. It was a gift from your sister and you haven't skipped wearing it a day in the three years since she gave it to you. "I think this is plenty," you announce, when you really understand that she isn't going to stop pushing. It's fine - she probably works on commission and you're making her a lot of money today. But you're not replacing the bracelet your sister gave you for any reason. "Dress, shoes, earrings, and a purse. That's more than I expected to do today, anyway."
“Alright.” Stephanie wants to tell you to spend more money. She knows Jack Daniels can afford it, but you aren’t supposed to know. “I don’t think with the heels you need any hemming, so would you like to take the dress with you now?”
“Please.” The placid smile on your face belies how excited you actually are about the dress - it’s just your credit card bill you’re dreading. “I really appreciate all your help today. I would have been lost on my own.”
“I love helping people dress for special occasions.” Stephanie tells you brightly and scans all the items, wrapping them up and putting them in a boutique bag before pulling out a garment bag for the dress.
“My cousin’s wedding is sure to be memorable.” That’s just the sort of person she is - a very big personality that should never be silenced. You shift your purse off your arm at the counter, digging for your wallet to hand over your credit card.
“That’s great.” Stephanie zips up the dress and smiles at you as she pushes the bag forward. “Well, I hope you enjoy it and have a great rest of your day.”
"I--um..." Standing there with your credit card out, you tilt your head and furrow your brow at the shop employee. "I haven't paid yet," you remind her gently.
“Don’t worry about that.” She waves away your card with a smile. “It’s been put on Statesman’s account.” She explains breezily. “It will be billed to you, at a heavy discount.”
"Oh." Vaguely wondering how many local businesses Statesman simply has an account at, you put your card away and give the woman a slightly dazed nod as you accept the bags she has packed for you. "Well-I...thank you, again."
Jack winks at Stephanie and nods at her politely before taking your bags. “Are we ready, sugar?”
"We're ready." This whole we and sugar business is the kind of thing that makes you feel like a schoolgirl - like you're going to go home tonight and call your sister from bed while you kick your legs and gleefully recall every detail of every interaction. And fuck - who knows - maybe you will. He's been wonderful today. Completely relieving you of any worry you had last night. "Time for dinner?"
“Only if you are ready for the best collards and cornbread you’ve ever stuffed in your sweet lookin’ little mouth.” The urge to compliment you is just too much. Depending on what he says, he gets a sassy comeback or you turn charmingly shy. Both are perfect in Jack’s book.
The eyebrow you raise in his direction is matched by a smirk, and you can’t help yourself. He’s getting more outlandish in his comments and it’s either a Southern thing that you just don’t have up in New England, or he might actually be flirting. “Been thinking about my mouth today, have you?”
“It’s a nice mouth.” Jack opens the door to the shop and lets you proceed him. “The day a man doesn’t think about a mouth that is sassy and sweet, sour and sugary, well - it’s the day they put him in the ground.”
You practically gasp at the admission, taking the garment bag with your gown and carefully arranging it amongst all the other boxes and bags in the back of the Bronco when you get outside. “So you’ve actually been flirting with me and I’m the idiot who just caught on?”
Jack shuffles, looking for the world like a man who’s gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar. He had been flirting and he hadn’t even realized it, the feeling so natural with you. Jack Daniels claims to be a born flirt, but ninety percent of it is an act. He hadn’t been acting with you. “Yes?” He asks, slightly worried that it might offend, given what you had said earlier.
He sounds worried, and you almost round the car to press a kiss to his cheek right there. But since the two of you had a short but legitimate conversation this morning about your dead soulmates, you decide not to push it and to just move with the flow of teasing. He seems to like it, and you have to admit to loving finding out that this man returns your attraction. “Good,” you hum, instead of doing anything sappy or too forward. “Keep it up.”
Jack’s grin is slow and he winks at you after he hops into the Bronco again, defying the need for the door. “Bossy lady.” He teases as he turns the key and the engine roars to life. “Easiest order ever, sugar.”
“I just know what I like, that’s all.” The victorious grin that overtakes your face settles there and stays as he pulls out onto the main road. You know what you like and you like him - right from the first second you saw him. It’s just that simple.
Jack drives you about five miles from the dress shop. The outside of the restaurant doesn’t look appealing, it’s the same facade of any strip mall in anywhere U.S.A. For Jack, that was part of the charm. Looks were deceiving. “Here we are, sugar.”
The outside looks like nothing at all, but through the glass windows you can see a line at the cafeteria counter that goes almost to the door. “Looks like we’re just in time for the dinner rush,” you shoot him a grin. “Perfect. Everything will be fresh.”
“Get two scoops of the collards or you’ll be waiting on a new pan.” Jack warns you, smirking as he opens the door and the scent of the buffet wafts out.
“Oh my god it smells like heaven.” The second you’re through the door you’re salivating, eagerly hopping into line with Jack at your side. “It smells like my grandmother’s house in here.”
“Your grandma cooked like this?” Jack asks, arching an eyebrow at you doubtfully.
“You think my coconut cake story was a lie?” You challenge him, grin twisting into the corner of your lips. “Grandma Jane was born and raised in Virginia. She only moved north after my older brother was born. According to her, being a long-distance granny simply was not an option.”
“Well then, let’s see if they cook as good as Grandma Jane from Virginia.” Jack teases, sending you a wink as the two of you get in line.
The building is absolutely packed to the gills, busy employees and happy customers all buzzing with their own energies. You and Jack slowly make your way up to the front of the line where regulars are being greeted by name, and you grin when one very maternal woman behind the counter lights up at the sight of him - this man seems to make an impression wherever he goes.
"Miss Mary, how are you doin' today?" Jack coos as he shuffles forward with you, a grin on his face and he sweeps his hat off his head and snatches her hand to kiss it playfully.
“Always missin’ you, Jack,” the woman laughs, swatting at him ineffectually and obviously enjoying this ritual playful flirtation. “You been in New York again? We ain’t seen you in a dog’s age.”
"No ma'am." Jack shakes his head mournfully. "Work pulled me farther away than New York, otherwise you know I would be flyin' down to sample your famous biscuits." He motions towards you and introduces you to the older woman. "Just had to show our newest Statesman member the best damn home cookin' around."
“Well, welcome, honey!” She shifts her attention to you with a beaming smile. “What is it you’re doin’ over there at the distillery, sweetheart?” “I’m a chef, actually.” You flash her a grin as if you’re both guilty of the same crime. “Brand new to the area, and I asked Jack to show me his favorite place. So here we are.”
"Oh well, I don't know if our cookin' 'ill be up to your standards, but let me know what you think." She looks impressed at the fact that you are a chef, as if running a wildly successful restaurant doesn't qualify her for the same thing. "Sweet Jack here was one of my first customers and sometimes he can be a little biased."
“I haven’t had real Southern cooking in about three years, so I’m excited to dig in.” You tell the woman honestly, making sure not to react to the inquisitive look on Jack’s face that you’re sure you’ll be answering for later. “I’m sure Jack’s bias is completely earned.”
Mary flusters, looking extremely pleased and flattered as she shoos you past. "Well you just enjoy and tell me all about it, you hear?" She demands, motioning you towards the drink station. "Get the sweet tea, honey. It's the real star of the show."
“I’m under orders, I guess. Not that anyone needs to encourage me to drink more sweet tea.” Turning to Jack as you move down the line together, you can see the question still in his eyes. “My grandmother died three years ago,” you explain. “There’s nowhere to get good Southern food in New Hampshire, and…cooking it myself hurt a little too much. Made me miss her too much. So I haven’t made anything except her coconut cake since the funeral.”
"I'm sorry, sugar." Jack knows about loss that just cripples you. He's lived with it for so long, he's functioning. At least as much as he could with his heart ripped out of his chest.
“Thank you.” It’s not ‘okay’, so you won’t say so even off-handedly, but you do slip the thin gold band from your wrist and show him the words written inside: Beautiful girl, you can do hard things. “My little sister had these made a few months later. It’s what she always used to tell us when we were worried or scared. So…she’s still with me. I know it’s not the same as losing your wife and son, but…I get what it feels like. Being so sad you can’t even open your eyes in the morning. I know that feeling.”
Jack stares at the phrase, his own eyes pricking with tears and he nods. "Loving someone is a curse sometimes, as much as it is a privilege."
“It is.” You nod and slip the band back on your wrist. “But that doesn’t mean we should stop. It just means the next person should be worth loving.”
Jack can't comment on that. Not when he's vowed to never love someone again. His own tea in hand, it's a silent perusal for a table, one set up in a small corner and he points to it. Unsure of if you will like it. He knows the silence is his fault, but how could he tell someone that he is wearing their tattoo that loving someone else wasn't in the cards for him.
It’s telling, the way chatty and openly flirtatious Jack clams up at your point of view, and you follow him to the table with a flash of melancholy in your understanding. He’s the kind of man who will simply never let go. No one will ever take his wife’s place and anyone that’s drawn his eye since is just a distraction. And for the life of you, you can’t understand why that makes your chest feel hollow and empty the way it does.
He hates that he's put a pall over the outing and once the teas are set down, he reaches for your hand. "Sorry, sugar." He murmurs softly. "It's just— it's hard to talk about. I don't mean to make you feel bad."
“Oh, I’m fine.” Lying through your teeth is what you are, but you smile for him anyway and squeeze his hand. “I think I went too long without eating, that’s all. It can affect my mood. Nothing to worry about.” Swallowing the lump squeezing your heart, you manage to find his eyes. “You can always talk to me. If you want to, I mean.”
"I appreciate that." He does, but he can't. Not without giving away the real issue. It's like your tattoo is burning and he rubs his arm absentmindedly. "Why don't we get you some grub and we can talk about less haunting things?"
“Sure.” You find yourself nodding around him quite a lot, content to be led by him through this new world you’re navigating. After all, you do like him. And Jack’s never given you a single reason not to trust him. “That sounds like a plan.”
______
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My Masterlist!
#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Jack Daniels#Jack Whiskey Daniels#Agent Whiskey#Jack Daniels x reader#Jack Daniels x you#Jack Daniels x female reader#Kingsman Golden Circle#Soulmate au
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Hello!
Inspired by other smash or pass blogs, this one is about Fire Emblem characters!
My name is Mod Garn and I use she/her!
Will only be posting characters who are 18+ but since this is Fire Emblem not everyone has a canon age. Even if they do, a character's age can be called into question. TL;DR I'll be arbitrarily judging a character if they look old enough for this. If you think a character should or shouldn't be here, I am sorry.
I will be doing almost every character in the franchise, including from the mainline and spin-off games, one off generics, the cipher exclusives, and manga exclusives.
Also I am splitting up characters who are technically the same character but under different identities.
Characters that will be excluded are:
underage characters (as mentioned before)
characters without a decent (or any) picture of them
Characters who share the same portrait as each other since that will be redundant
Generic portraits for classes, so if a character uses a generic class portrait (ex the 10 elites from fe3h) they won't be included (the only exceptions are Abysskeeper and Gatekeeper)
I'll be posting 3 characters a day, alphabetically, at 3PM EST.
Also thank you to reddit user u/Just_Nefariousness55 for making this post compiling every character in the games. My life was made so much easier because of you.
FAQ under the cut
Q. Why?
A. Because I can
Q. Is horny posting allowed?
A. Yes but please don’t be too explicit
Q. Can you add a “not attracted to character’s gender” option?
A. No I don’t think it’s necessary to have, you can just press “pass” or not vote at all
Q. Why is fe2 Nuibaba your pfp?
A. It funni
Q. IDK this character, can I still participate in the poll?
A. Sure! You can decide whether to smash or pass just based on looks
Q. Can I explain the reason why I would/wouldn't smash?
A. Yes cause I'm nosey
Q. I don't care for the other things on this blog, what are the tags for the smashing or passing?
A. #fe smash or pass and #fire emblem smash or pass are the tags used for the actual smash or pass polls, in case you don't care for the random bs I sometimes post on this blog
#fire emblem#rules#fire emblem shadow dragon and the blade of light#fire emblem shadow dragon#fire emblem mystery of the emblem#fire emblem new mystery of the emblem#fire emblem archanea saga#fire emblem gaiden#fire emblem echoes shadows of valentia#fire emblem genealogy of the holy war#fire emblem thracia 776#fire emblem binding blade#fire emblem blazing blade#fire emblem sacred stones#fire emblem path of radiance#fire emblem radiant dawn#fire emblem awakening#fire emblem fates#fire emblem three houses#fire emblem engage#fire emblem heroes#tokyo mirage sessions#fire emblem warriors#fire emblem three hopes#fire emblem hasha no tsurugi
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captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations
chapter 13 & final notes
indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!
also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!
i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.
this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.
It was true; it was somehow not even a surprise, more like a truth that had grown for some time on the edge of his awareness, now brought into sharp relief.
some damen brain insight! he’s not stupid or oblivious. he just ends up distracted, often, due to the more pressing things in front of him and/or subconscious avoidance.
‘You can’t go to Delfeur,’ Damen said. ‘It’s a death trap.’
YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY damen doesn’t want laurent dead!!!! 🎉
‘Is your reputation so far in the dirt that you think the Council will choose your uncle for the throne anyway, unless you prove yourself?’
‘You are right on the edge of what I will allow from you,’ said Laurent.
but he does allow SOMETHING, which is new
‘Take me with you to Delfeur,’ said Damen.
‘No.’
‘Akielos is my country. Do you think I want her overrun by your uncle’s troops? I will do anything in my power to prevent war. Take me with you. You will need someone you can trust.’
Speaking those last words, he almost winced, immediately regretting them. Laurent had asked him for trust last night, and he had thrown the words back in his face. He would receive the same treatment.
Laurent just gave him a blankly curious look. ‘Why would I need that?’
context: laurent is delusional about his capability to overcome near-insurmountable odds alone. this frustrates and concerns damen, and he isn’t able to let it go, even though he hates laurent. his values and honor come first. laurent is both confused and mildly amused by damen’s concern, because he doesn’t expect anyone—especially not damen—to actually care about his well-being.
Damen stared at him, suddenly aware that if he asked, ‘Do you think you can juggle attempts on your life, military command, and your uncle’s tricks and traps by yourself?’ the answer was going to be: Yes.
i love laurent. i love that his stubborn determination is very much a virtue, but also something that occasionally makes him act like a total idiot. and damen sees this, and understands this, for better and/or for worse.
‘He asked me to bed you, then report back to him.’ Damen was forthright. ‘Not in those words.’
‘And your answer?’
That, unreasonably, annoyed him. ‘If I’d bedded you, you’d know it.’
There was a dangerous, narrow-eyed pause. Eventually: ‘Yes. Your style of grabbing your partner and kicking their legs open does stand out in the memory.’
the fact that laurent allowed this kind of banter to happen at all is kind of a big deal. he was definitely close to smacking damen about it, but went for a half-hearted insult instead. for laurent, that’s basically a white flag. and it’s even more meaningful, since the exchange was related to sex, which has proven to be a vulnerable topic.
‘My dear brute,’ said Laurent, ‘I want you to rot here.’
context: laurent is exhausted, stressed, and delusional about his immediate future. damen wants him to survive (for now), to see things realistically, and feel the urgency of his circumstances. i don’t think laurent cares if damen rots—he just wants him to stop saying true and helpful things.
also, this is just kind of a hot thing to say. something about the conflicting affection and contempt. i don’t know.
‘Are you that sure of yourself?’ Damen called after him. ‘I think if you could beat your uncle on your own, you would have done it already.’
Laurent stopped in the doorway. Damen saw the cupped yellow of his head, the straight line of his back and shoulders. But Laurent didn’t turn back to face him; the hesitation only lasted for a moment before he continued out the door.
he’s right! laurent knows he’s right! he’s just too proud and delusional to admit it!
probably because to laurent, admitting weakness only results in vulnerability and pain. he wouldn’t believe that anyone would actually want to offer him help without an ulterior motive. so his guard stays up, and he does what he needs to do alone.
Laurent was leaving tomorrow. Laurent, infuriating, intolerable Laurent, was pursuing the worst possible course, and there was nothing Damen could do to stop him.
“i hope she fries / i’m free if that bitch dies / i’d better help her out” (buffy the vampire slayer, once more with feeling)
It was easier to blame the death of a boy on mischance than that of a young man about to ascend to the throne. Damen could see no reason why boy-Laurent should have escaped that fate. Perhaps familial loyalty had held the Regent back . . . until Laurent had blossomed into poisonous maturity, sly-natured and unfit to rule.
context: the regent kept laurent alive as a child and teenager so he could [redacted] >:(
Laurent could inspire homicidal tendencies simply by breathing.
Kastor, he thought, had no idea what lay across the border. Kastor had embraced an alliance with Vere. He was vulnerable, ill-equipped to fight a war, the bonds within his own country showing cracks to which a foreign power had only to apply pressure.
the dramatic irony here is insaaaaaaaane. damen your cognitive dissonance is showing
Did Laurent really believe he could do this alone? Laurent would need every weapon at his disposal in order to navigate this course alive. Yet Damen had not been able to persuade him of that. He was aware, not for the first time, of a fundamental inability to communicate with Laurent. It was not only that he was navigating a foreign language. It was as though Laurent was an entirely other species of animal.
romance is two strong-willed and competent people communicating despite the odds, becoming stronger and more competent together than they would be apart. also doing improv comedy to survive the horrors
He touched the starburst pattern at his shoulder. He was dressed in Laurent’s colours, and bearing his insignia. That was a strange feeling.
kinda hot. like the collar and cuffs, but they actually earned it.
submission vs. respect theme, etc.
He was to serve and obey, as any man.
but NOT, notably, as a slave.
‘Sleeping in his tent?’
‘Where else?’
He passed a hand over his face. Laurent had agreed to this?
i love how damen’s follow-up question isn’t necessarily, “do i agree with this?” but “how the fuck did LAURENT agree to this?”
After a long moment, Damen said, ‘Whatever else you think, I don’t share his bed.’
It was not a new insinuation. Damen wasn’t sure why it rankled so much now.
probably because there is something resembling mutual respect developing between damen and laurent, so the implication that their interactions are entirely sexual is offensive. submission vs. respect again!
‘If I’d sent them after you,’ said Laurent, ‘I would have told them you went out the only way you knew, through the courtyard off the northern training arena. Did you?’
‘Yes,’ said Damen.
hot.
The pre-dawn light bleached Laurent’s hair from gold to something paler and finer; the bones of his face appeared as delicate as the calamus of a feather. He was relaxed against the doorway of the stables as though he’d been there quite a while, which would explain the colour of Jord’s face.
laurent lean #9. smug eavesdropping.
And he did not need gilt to be recognised under a parade standard, only the uncovered bright of his hair.
i’m counting this as damen likes blondes mention #6. implies that laurent is “parade standard” simply because of his pretty hair.
Laurent paced forward. His eyes passed over Damen in turn, displaying jagged distaste. Seeing him in armour seemed to have drawn something unpleasant from the depths.
‘Too civilised?’
‘Hardly,’ said Laurent.
context: “i cannot fucking believe i’m dressing up my brother’s barbaric killer like a veretian and letting him join my traveling party”
‘What is he doing here?’
‘Captaining the Guard.’
‘What?’
‘Yes, it’s an interesting arrangement, isn’t it?’ said Laurent.
oh, he’s SEETHING. humor as deflection.
‘You should throw him a pet to keep him off the men,’ said Jord.
‘No,’ said Laurent, after a moment. He said it thoughtfully.
context: mainly i think laurent knows that govart’s unsatisfied libido is likely to make him screw up. but also i’d like to believe that he’s just super over the pet stuff
Laurent took it without saying anything. He tucked it carefully into a fold of his riding clothes. Then after a moment, he reached out, and touched Nicaise’s chin with one knuckle.
‘You look better without all the paint,’ said Laurent.
oh he cares about this kid so much, and clearly values his gift. this is the most affectionate we’ve seen laurent in the entire book.
‘Do you think a compliment will impress me?’ said Nicaise. ‘It won’t. I get them all the time.’
‘I know you do,’ said Laurent.
“so did i.”
‘I’m coming back,’ said Laurent.
‘Is that what you think?’
context: this is meant as a comfort to nicaise, but nicaise hears it as a threat.
neither of them believes that they would ever deserve or receive protection.
‘I’m coming back,’ said Laurent.
‘To keep me as a pet?’ said Nicaise. ‘You’d love that. To make me your servant.’
Dawn passed over the courtyard. Colours changed. A sparrow landed on one of the stable posts close by him, but lifted off again at the sound of one of the men dropping an armful of tack.
‘I would never ask you to do anything you found distasteful,’ said Laurent.
context: this is the truth.
It didn’t surprise Damen that Laurent was popular with the townspeople. He looked the part, all bright hair and astonishing profile. A golden prince was easy to love if you did not have to watch him picking wings off flies. Straight-backed and effortless in the saddle, he had an exquisite seat, when he was not killing his horse.
NICE VS. GOOD THEME! damen thinks that if the townspeople saw laurent as he does—a bitch—they would realize that he isn’t good. because he still believes, most of the time, that niceness equates to goodness. and so every pleasant quality laurent possesses—his appearance, his title, and his skills—is in opposition with his unpleasant behavior. laurent’s unpleasant actions and qualities are, simply, Not Good. and damen is too distracted by laurent’s more tasteful qualities to consider how his distasteful decisions could be more ethical than they appear (for example, mercy killing the horse his uncle poisoned).
inversely, we have damen and akielion slavery. damen knows the gentle submission of slaves in ios, and the way their masters “honor” them—in that, he sees goodness. but when he sees the cruel way veretians treat akielion slaves, he sees wrongness, which he then advocates against. but what he can’t see, is that “palatable slavery” (gag) is still slavery, and just as wrong in akielos as it is in vere. and it is just as evil of akielos to partake in the institution, if not more evil since it’s their institution in the first place, than whatever is going on in vere.
damen has moral integrity. he has a mind and he uses it. but he also has a massive blind spot, because he believes that everyone else in the world is as honorable as he is.
laurent has the opposite blind spot. he doesn’t expect anyone to be honorable, ever. least of all his brother’s killer.
the two of them make a good team.
final notes
damen likes blondes mentions: 6
laurent leans: 9
(nice)
character elements to watch out for:
laurent perspective context (knowing what i know, what sense can i make?)
laurent & nicaise
laurent coping mechanisms (pretending, delusion)
damen coping mechanisms (avoidance, distraction)
damen reconsidering the ethics of akielios
mutual moral arbitration
series themes:
niceness vs. goodness
submission vs. respect - “there is no honour in obedience”
suffering alone vs. fighting together
pain and humor
honor and integrity
sex, power, innocence, violence
trauma, desire, consent
#YAYYYY!#done book 1#this was super fun#capri#sam reads capri#captive prince#damen of akielos#laurent of vere#lamen#please feel free to share your thoughts!!
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Random thought, No Fate related, would love some feedback!
I headcanon that a lot of underwater races in media - mermaids and the like - actually have very little concept of a gender binary. Like, all or most underwater races would be capable of both giving birth and, uh, “fertilizing the process”, so the human concept of gender would be basically redundant. Like, there would be those who’d have a harder time giving birth, or “assisting”, but underwater races would see it as extremely rude to label them as something that publicly called out this “deficiency” - for human, it would be like if you constantly had to refer to someone as “impotent”. The only reason most underwater races would HAVE gendered pronouns is if they regularly deal with other races that DO have them, but they’d probably mean different things.
Like, for the Zora, if they fit into this headcanon, Sidon is called a “Prince” because he’s one day going to be “King”, but, to the Zora, to be a “King” doesn’t mean “Male Ruler”. To the Zora, it would mean something closer to “Ruler by Blood Right”, because Zora pass their rulership through the royal family. A “Queen” isn’t “Female Ruler” it’s closer to “Our Ruler’s Spouse”. I also headcanon that, within Hyrule specifically, “Princess” would mean something different, because of the role of Princess Zelda. Like, Mipha was called a “Princess”, which rather than meaning she was next in line for the throne, meant something closer to “Magical Guardian” or “Priestess”, which is sort of what Zelda is supposed to be. “Princess” just means she’s from the royal line, but actually marks her out of the line of succession, as she’s filling a different role. (Note sure how well I’m explaining this….)
(Also would be neat to see how a race with no concept of human-style gender interact with it. Like, if a Zora began to really identify as “female” or “male”, I think that would be neat to explore.)
-
YES
YES YES YES
Honestly I love the whole thing of different species having different biology and all! And this! Yes!
Plus we also get language things. Like canonically the different groups have their own languages! So I’d imagine the Zora language would have non-gendered pronouns.
And yeah I think like. Back in the early days the Zora wouldn’t quite know what Hylians meant when saying male or female or using pronouns. They Hylians were just kinda going off the gendered ‘vibes’ one gave off and the Zora were confused. Especially when different Hylians assumed different genders for them.
It gets explained eventually! And nowadays they’re aware of the whole thing. They kinda more just roll with it. Some get uncomfortable and are like ‘hey no they/them by default’ but others just roll with whatever they’re called and don’t care. There are some who prefer one set of pronouns over the other, though whether it’s just ‘this one sounds neat’ or genuinely feeling more that gender is to each their own!
As such I think the gender thing with Mipha is less the Princess = Priestess thing and more just that Mipha gives fem vibes to Hylians. She’s small with a petite figure, a rounder face, very soft-spoken.
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Queer DT17 headcanons
Get ready folks this is a long one
Scrooge: Ah yes the Crowley of Ducktales in terms of funky gender and David Tennant-ness. For a while I’ve been a fan of bisexual trans man Scrooge (before season 3 even aired) but I’m also toying around with him being some flavor of multigender
Donald: Bi trans man. This is real to me
Della: Lesbian who uses she/they pronouns, I haven’t decided on an exact headcanon for her gender wise
Huey: I actually don’t have a definitive headcanon for Huey tbh. There’s barely a headcanon out there for him I wouldn’t like
Dewey: I refuse to believe this kid conforms to gender roles no matter what. He is aro to me and I think he genuinely would describe his gender using his name
Louie: Gay trans boy who uses he/they. Something about wearing hoodies all the time is trans as hell
Webby: Lesbian 100%
Beakley: Also a lesbian and definitely had something going on with Black Heron
Fethry: Bi and idk about specifics in gender but probably uses they/he/she (also Gladstone is not on here because I genuinely lean towards him being cishet, sorry Gladstone)
Lena: Nonbinary lesbian whose gender is [shrug]
Violet: Trans girl but really hasn’t even thought about who she might like, it just hasn’t come up
Gyro: I’ve said it a million times but not even canon itself could convince me he isn’t a gay trans man on the aroace spectrum
Boyd: A definitely real boy. (I don’t have a definitive headcanon for him but Astro Boyd is such a trans episode to me)
Fenton: As said earlier, bisexual and uses he/they
Gandra: If you ask Gandra’s gender she’ll probably say “What are you, a cop?” (Bisexual and uses they/she but does not label gender other than ‘sure as hell not cis’)
Drake: Same as Gyro minus the aroace part (Launchpad is not on here due to canonically being pan and me not having a definitive headcanon on whether he is cis or trans, so putting him here would be a bit redundant)
Gosalyn: To me DT17 Gosalyn feels like she either is in or is about to experience a gender crisis, probably ends up describing herself the same way as Lena
José: Bi and stupid (affectionate)
Panchito: Gay (you can’t fool me, og caballeros movie) trans man. I feel this one in my bones for every version of him ever
Daisy: Bisexual trans woman
Storkules: Has this man ever loved anyone the same way he loves Donald, genuinely? I completely doubt it like yeah he loves everyone in some way but uhhh [gestures to the Donald statue he made that one episode and his box of Donald fan art]
Selene: MOON LESBIAN MOON LESBIAN
Penumbra: Obviously a lesbian but I love imagining she has a weird gender. Once she becomes familiar with butches on Earth she fits in pretty well, also I don’t imagine her caring about what pronouns someone uses for her
#ducktales 2017#i prob forgot a ton of people but this show has a huge cast#also please consider t4t scrooge and goldie despite me not putting that on the post itself
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The shadow- father!Dottore & clone!son!Reader
Return to File
Recovery date: April 10th, 2024
Description: I was thinking about a platonic Genshin impact story with a bit of angst where the reader is male and is a clone of Dottore's son who died from sickness and the reader was tricked into believing that Dottore was truly his father but the reader didn't have a familial bond with him and deeply fears Dottore even though he rarely interacts with the reader but the reader ends up becoming friends with the traveller and went to Sumeru with them and after Scaramouche was defeated and irminsul was saved, when Dottore spoke with Nahida he revealed the readers true origins. (I was inspired by Hunter from the owl house)(if you're not comfortable with writing this that's completely alright and I wish you a good morning/afternoon or goodnight and I hope you're in good health and spirits☺️)
Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions. This was fun! I did make a slight adjustment which is that reader arrived in Sumeru with Scaramouche instead of the traveler.
Word count: 1 760
Back to directory
“When you were a child…”
I don’t remember that.
“He loves you in his own way.”
How can he love someone he never sees?
“He would never hurt you.”
How can you be so sure?
“Do you remember…”
I don’t.
Maybe that’s why it was so easy for Y/n to leave Snezhnaya with Scaramouche. Maybe that’s why, for the first time in his life, Y/n felt alive. He wasn’t walking on eggshells around his father’s lab, and no one pretended to know him. Scaramouche himself seemed completely ambivalent to his presence, only making vaguely aggressive comments to not die.
It made following the Balladeer a redundant question. With the gnosis, the two fled Inazuma even though Y/n was supposed to return to Snezhnaya.
This was a chance he couldn’t miss. A chance to see the world, and to see the home he’d only seen through pictures. Father be damned, he could ground Y/n later if he wanted… if he even cared too.
Sumeru was not as freeing as Inazuma. Maybe it was the knowledge that his father was here, somewhere, but it felt ever so slightly suffocating. The bright colors and clear skies were blinding, and everything felt wrong. There was a distant sense of familiarity, but it also felt like he’d never been here before. It was as though his brain was trying to remember everything he’d ever been told about this place– about the shops, the streets, and the people– but he couldn’t.
That sense of life that Y/n had found in Inazuma seemed to be slowly draining away.
Maybe father was right, maybe he should have returned to Snezhnaya instead of coming here. Perhaps telling Y/n to return to Snezhnaya was also his father’s way of protecting him, by ensuring he would not be deemed a fugitive for following the Balladeer. Had he been forced to fight to clear his son’s name with the Tsaritza and other Harbingers?
“Oh- sorry.”
Y/n looked up from the ground to see who he’d just bumped into, and was immediately filled with a sense of dread. A blond traveler stood before him. The traveler.
“It’s alright,” the traveler’s voice was kind.
Y/n sidestepped the traveler and continued, at a quicker pace, to Puspa cafe. Then, as he was waiting for his food, a familiar voice drew his attention away from the people milling about and towards the opposite chair.
“Is this seat taken?”
Panic set in as he reflexively shook his head, and the traveler took a seat. Had he been found out? Had the traveler somehow found out that he was Dottore’s son? It was probably that damn Tartaglia, they seemed pretty close.
“Are you alright?” The traveler spoke again.
“Uh-uhm,” he cleared his throat, “yes, why?”
“You look a little sick,” the traveler’s floating companion said.
“Oh, I always look like that.”
Accepting his answer, the traveler and Paimon nodded. Y/n, however, was not so easily relaxed and instead began to fidget with the cuff of his shirt. Was he wearing something identifiable? His necklace was tucked under his shirt, so there was no way it was visible, and he wasn’t wearing the fatui insignia.
“Are you from here?” the floating creature, Paidon, Pai-Pai-Painon, Paimon, asked.
“N- I was born here, but we moved when I was young.”
“Aw, man, I was hoping you’d have some recommendations on good food.”
Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle at the dejected look on Paimon’s face.
“No, sorry.”
When his food was brought over, he offered to share it with the two traveling companions while they waited for there’s. Paimon happily obliged, while the traveler denied the offer.
Sumeru slowly felt less suffocating as Y/n stopped trying to remember things, and instead made new memories. Stories of chasing shroomboars were replaced with memories of hunting them down and cooking them, and stories of watching performances in the grand bazaar were replaced with actual memories of Nilou’s dance.
It just made his betrayal all the more painful on both sides.
“Y/n,” Dottore said, not looking up from his final touches on the Shouki No Kami.
“Yes, father?”
“Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes.”
Dottore looks up from the machine, finally, and turns around. There is a sorrow in the doctor’s eyes, one that Y/n has come to understand as mourning for his mother. That’s all he is to his father, a shadow of his mother. Maybe that’s why the man has always been so distant, perhaps too afraid to lose his son like he’d lost the mother.
Y/n steps forward and wraps his arms around Dottore.
“I love you,” Y/n says, and he isn’t sure if it’s a platitude or if he means it.
The doctor only pats his son’s back before he pulls away.
“You’ll be joined by one of my segments, I have some business I still must attend to.”
Now, Y/n was in no way skilled in the same way the fatui grunts were, but he also wasn’t as blind as a regular civilian. As he and the clone of his father made their way to the port, he felt the presence of their pursuers. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of white hair just before it ducked behind some crates.
His heart clenched in regret.
Perhaps, in the future, they could still be friends. If they were friends with an actual harbinger, surely the son of one of them would be alright. Maybe if the traveler ever came to Snezhnaya they could share another meal, and he could finally give them food recommendations.
The boat slowly began to drift away from the port, and Y/n stared up at the Sanctuary of Surasthana.
He stood up suddenly, and carefully looked around on the boat. No one was watching, everyone was busy and his father had already entered the cabin. So, as naturally as possible, Y/n sat up on the side of the boat and made one last check of his surroundings before falling backwards into the water.
“Hi, I know you probably don’t trust me, but I want to help,” Y/n muttered as he ascended the streets of Sumeru city, soaking wet from his swim. “Hey, so I know I’m the son of Dottore, but you’re friends with tartaglia, so let me help, please?”
It was late, and the street lights were on when he finally arrived at the Traveler’s place. He knocked immediately, not giving himself a chance to hesitate.
He was greeted with silence, and he had to strain to hear what sounded like metal scraping against something, and-oh no.
Y/n took a step back from the door just as the traveler swung it open and leveled a sword at his neck.
“Y/n?”
“Hi. I want to help.”
“You’re a horrible spy,” Paimon piped up. “We know you’re with Dottore, you can tell him that your little plan failed.”
“He doesn’t know I’m here, he thinks I’m on my way back to Snezhnaya.”
“And he won’t notice you’re gone?”
“He’s still in Sumeru.”
“What?”
Cautiously, the traveler let Y/n into the house and found him a change of clothes.
“Why help us?” The traveler asked, sitting on the bed while Y/n sat in front of it on the floor.
“I’m… not really sure. Well, that’s not entirely true, it just sounds stupid.”
“Well if you want us to trust you, you better tell us,” Paimon huffed.
Y/n gnawed on his lip for a moment, mulling over his words.
“When I was leaving Sumeru, I found myself staring at the Sanctuary of Surasthana, and I couldn’t help but think that lesser lord Kusanali is a bit like me. Before recently, I’d never left Snezhnaya. I felt… trapped. And there’s more to it, but that’s the gist of it. I just… want to give her the same freedom I found on this trip. Even if it means I can never go back to Snezhnaya, or that I can never leave it again.”
The next day, Y/n joined Nilou’s distraction team as the Traveler freed Nahida. Everyone was on guard for the possible appearance of Dottore, though his lack of presence was starting to get to Y/n. Had his business perhaps not been here, but rather somewhere nearby like Liyue?
He doesn’t expect to see the traveler again so soon, much less to be dragged along to the final fight with Scaramouche. It’s a blur as Y/n calls out flaws in the design for the traveler to target, flaws that Nahida eventually complies and ranks for the final round.
Y/n catches Scaramouche as he falls from the Shouki No Kami, carefully positioning him to rest on his lap.
“I’ve got him,” Y/n said, “you guys finish this.”
---
“Your son is a wonderful man,” Nahida said as she handed her gnosis over to Dottore. “However, I can’t help but get a sense of… incompleteness, from him.”
The doctor rolls the dendro gnosis over in his hand, his gloved thumb tracing over the design.
“I do not owe you an answer.”
“I gave you the electro gnosis and the dendro gnosis.”
“In exchange for the destruction of my clones and knowledge about the fake sky.”
Nahida frowned, he was right. She had no leverage.
“I won’t bring him back with me.” Nahida felt her eyes widen in surprise. “My son died when he was just a boy, the man you’ve met is nothing but a shadow of that boy. As the clone of a corpse, he was not able to receive his memories, and it has caused him great pain. I did not bring back my son. He is no different from that puppet.”
---
“Hey, hat guy,” Y/n called, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked up at his friend lazing in a tree.
“Go away!”
“Come on, the traveler’s here, we’re going to get lunch.”
“That’s nice, have fun.”
With a huff, Y/n carefully climbs the tree until he’s sitting on a branch above his friend. He stares intently at the other man until he finally cracks an eye open and groans.
“Honestly, if you’ve always been like this I have no idea how we ever became friends.”
Y/n jumped down from the tree, followed by the puppet.
“It’s a long story.”
“Will you ever tell me?”
With a scoff, the man replied, “What does the past matter when we can make new memories now?”
#researcher s's recovery#genshin impact#genshin impact dottore#dottore#dottore & reader#male reader#reader insert#oneshot#genshin impact oneshot#slight angst
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funniest parts of inside job pt 2
mommy likey drinky
“santa is fake! but student debt is real!” “you had to learn sometime, brayden”
“this is gonna be the most globally damaging midlife crisis since elon musk” oh that is APT
“ok boomer”
“are you poland? because that german guy straight-up owned you”
reagan saying that alex jones “looks like an orangutan fucked a fire hydrant”
“i’m the only one left who will listen to me!”
spending the whole episode confused on why oprah is back and then seeing her yell “i’m not the first oprah!”
“our missions do feel suspiciously like b-stories”
“why is my wallet on a metal leash? where would it be trying to go?”
lights being mothman’s kryptonite is a very obvious joke but it still works every time
KEANU FUCKING REEVES
“MOTHERFUCKER!” “well, he is fucking reagan’s mother, so yes. motherfucker.”
*takes out a lotus* “i don’t put these in my pocket. they grow there spontaneously.”
“i’m feeling drained from staring meaningfully into the distance”
“after dating so many billionaires, his millionaire lifestyle keeps me grounded”
the pussy posse being amazed and confounded by brett’s respect women juice
the real reason leonardo dicaprio only dates women under 25
“someone on the internet found out margot robbie is cgi” FINALLY SOMEONE WHO AGREES WITH ME
reagan accidentally imitating owen wilson
“when i’m done with you, men will look at you the way they look at me: briefly!”
gigi’s reaction to her make-under: “i wanna cyberbully myself!”
tamiko’s reaction to rand turning into a literal manchild: “way to turn subtext into text, rand”
myc’s absolutely SAVAGE comebacks at the constitution heist
“how would the founding fathers feel about this?” “probably the same way your father feels about you”
“ok, give me the word and i’ll blow the hell out of this thing” “said your ex-wife to brett’s dick”
“aliens? a woman being in charge of a team? nobody’s gonna believe this!”
“it’s a psychic union where everyone thinks the same and acts the same like fucking marvel fans” HGFHJGSDHKJHSJGH
“the last time i saw a white guy that generic, he was on a don’t walk sign!”
“fresh dirt is brought to you by blue apron. do you only care about the environment when it’s super convenient?”
INCEL STEVE
“how did he get that hoodie?”
“WE’VE BEEN FUCKED BY THE POPE!” “for the love of god, CONTEXT!”
saying “when in rome” is half the reason people come to rome
the gay dog weddings
“i now pronounce you two very good boys!”
“that’s me in the corner, losing my religion.”
reagan offending the italians (again)
“oh man, if god is real, i’m fucked”
“in the name of the father the son and the HOLY SHIT”
in a vow to make air travel as inconvenient as possible, the third wright brother invented sharing an armrest
“i deserve to be punished. i still quote borat sometimes”
“look! a woman’s ankle!”
*takes one look at hell* “those flamin’ hot cheetos commercials really nailed it.”
“i love cable news. it’s like watching the apocalypse in slow motion.”
gigi describing brett as “the comic sans of people”
andre reminding us how old millennials are now
“destroying your brother’s political legacy. what are you, a bush?”
the ayn rand tattoo
brett accidentally unionizing and legalizing sex work
“the solution just seemed so obvious”
“because faking your own death worked so well last time, reagan. redundant much?”
“maybe all conspiracies are real!” “oh, that’s not good.”
brett’s lil brett puppet
lil brett dying
lil brett going absolutely batshit crazy during the entire end credits of that episode
“you look like a white girl at burning man!”
the coughing and face-touching station
“the only way you’re associated with the number 300 is in pounds.” “you calling me fat?” “explicitly!”
“i literally have no idea what you’re going to say next!” “vagina egg.”
“i feel like we have the same interests. wanna start a podcast?” “no! this is like a siren song for straight white men!”
reagan once used cheetos as croutons
*route 96 turns into route 69* “haha, nice”
the fact that andre is just the original text of the “one fear” meme
“fun for ages six to six and a half!”
berenstain bears originally being berenstein makes SO MUCH SENSE
“and finally the rich white underdogs became the rich white ruling class. an inspirational story”
jr refusing to put his shirt back on
brett gives a tinfoil hat to the shazaam poster and it WORKS
“turns out i wasn’t pregnant, i just had way too much del taco” “i’ve been there”
“you said something nice, but it felt mean!”
mothman’s alternate timeline was a reverse of the fly
andre is canonically into tentacle hentai
lampshading the plot holes
“me? in charge of a whole workforce, like santa?”
“how many oscars is meryl streep supposed to have? three seems kinda low”
andre, just having shoved nixon back into his grave, now covered in blood and holding a shovel: “i don’t wanna talk about it”
air bud!!
“i could beat a dog in chess! probably.” same, brett, same
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Another Day in Paradise, Chapter 4
Pairing: Eventually Alastor x OFC, later- light Alastor x ofc x Lucifer
Rated: E for eventual smut
Content warnings (Series): It's Hazbin Hotel- this feels redundant. Sex, eventual smut, referenced implied suicide to be discussed in more detail later, drugs, drinking, poor coping, toxic behavior, controlling behavior, cannibalism, idk, it's fucking Hazbin Hotel, if it's worth a content warning it's probably going to come up at some point? Religious trauma. reader has a name/is a oc.
Content warning- Chapter: None
AN: Eventually maybe someone will read this shit. Still riding the new fandom crack train.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
~~~~~<3
Amber hid in her room the rest of the morning and had herself a good cry. It was something that was becoming more common as she felt safer. Eventually, a knock brought her out of her wallowing though she couldn’t say how long she had cried for.
Charlie was at the door, a plate with a sandwich and some chips was placed on a try as well as a glass that looked to contain juice. It was so perfectly wholesome and out of place in hell.
“I thought you might be hungry.” She said as Amber stepped aside to let the her into the room.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to.” Amber said rather than admit that yes, she was starved. It was near lunch time and she had ran back to her room with her tail quite literally between her legs before having anything for breakfast.
“I wanted to thank you,” Charlie said, setting the tray down on the end table by the bed before sitting down next to where Amber sat.
“I didn’t do anything.” Amber couldn’t meet the girl’s wide and ever eager eyes and instead picked at the chips. Princess or golden retriever hotel owner, the woman was simply too good either way.
“But you did,” Charlie insisted, “You took a risk. You gave it an honest try. You shared something so important to you. You could have taken the easy way out like they did but you didn’t. That means something and I am so, so proud of you for it.”
That surprised Amber. Charlie knew. She knew they were half-assing their activities. She knew. But she cared, encouraged and loved them anyway. How could a being like Charlie have been raised in hell?
“Does it bother you,” Amber asked, “That you’ve only lived in hell?”
“I mean, I’m curious about things top side, sure. But this is my home and I’ve had such a great life here. I mean, I know I’ve been privileged. There’s so much more to hell than just what you have access to here. But even this ring of hell can be pretty great. You can have a life here too, you know? A good one.”
“I guess.” Amber shrugged.
“You’re already doing so good!” Amber smiled at Charlie’s encouragement. “You found somewhere safe, you’re making friends and t’s nice to see you not being so scared. I want you to feel safe here, I want you to have a life here. Inside the hotel and out.”
Silence settled as Amber ate. Charlie was happy enough to just sit with her for the moment.
“Why?” Amber finally asked, when her food was gone and the glass was sitting in her hands. “Why are you so invested in helping me? Isn’t hell supposed to suck? Isn’t it supposed to be punishment? But here you are, insisting on helping.”
“I don’t know.” Charlie admitted, shrugging. “Sure, this place is intended to be a punishment for Sinners but who says it has to be? And you just don’t seem like you belong here. I can’t imagine what you did to get sent here.”
Amber laughed, “I’m far from sinless.”
“Sure, no one is.” Charlie admitted with a shrug. “But a bunch of little sins surely doesn’t get someone down here. And if it does, it shouldn’t.”
“Maybe it doesn’t matter?” Amber stood up, not sure how to run from the conversation when she was in her own room. It was getting to be too much.
“I’m sorry- I know most don’t really like to talk about what they did or how they died. It’s kind of taboo here and I overstepped.”
“It’s fine,” Amber lied.
“What was your favorite thing top side?” Charlie asked, standing as well and making her way to the door.
“Other than my daughter?” Amber mused as she thought about it. “Listening to the radio in the early morning, out on the porch with a cup of coffee. Before anyone else woke up. Before the day woke up. Before the day’s bullshit started.”
A knock on the door started Amber out of her memory. Charlie had a wide smile as she enveloped the much smaller Amber in her arms. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It sounds beautiful.”
“I should get that.” Amber mumbled into Charlie’s shoulder as the knocking came again, this time accompanied by a voice.
“Anyone hooome~?” Alastor called in a singsong voice from behind the door.
“I should really get that.” Amber repeated, trying to ignore the way fear flooded her. “I don’t want to upset him.”
Charlie ducked out of the room with a wave as Amber opened the door to Alastor. “Dearie, did you forget our plans already?”
“No, I just- I didn’t know when.”
“Now.” Alastor answered, thumping his cane on the ground and leaning on it. “Is that,” Alastor wiggled his finger at Amber, “Acceptable to go out in?”
“What?” Amber looked down at the over sized shirt she was wearing over leggings. “Is there something wrong with this?”
“It could be better.” Alastor said simply before deciding, “But I suppose it’s good enough for now.”
“We’re just going to pick up the things from the tailor, right?” Amber asked, slipping her feet into the simple low heeled shoes Alastor had gotten her. They were more comfortable to walk in, rather than the heels and boots Angel had insisted on. Sneakers just didn’t seem to be a thing at the stores either had dragged her to.
“Among other things,” Alastor answered simply. “Come along now.”
Alastor started down the hall without waiting for her. She was left scrambling to catch up to the one person she didn’t want to spend an undefined period of time being drug around the city with according to their whims.
She didn’t know if she needed a coat or an umbrella or how the weather in hell even worked. It rained but the rain didn’t look pleasant. She’d seen people dissolve to the bone in the rain while she huddled under whatever shelter she had been able to find at the time. The weather had always been warm when she had been on the streets but Alastor always wore a overcoat.
Going out wasn’t something she was used to and oh boy, was she overthinking it.
She managed to catch up to him at the elevator, slipping in with Alastor before the doors closed. He had made no effort to hold the elevator for her. As soon as the doors opened onto the lobby, Alastor’s long legs carried him swiftly out. Amber was left scrambling to try and keep pace with him, struggling to stay within a few paces behind him.
He had to know she was all but jogging to keep up. There was no way he wasn’t hearing the way she was panting by the time they reached the bottom of the hill or the rushed clicking of her heels against the stones contrasting to his smoothe relaxed steps.
“Now my dear, how should a lady carry herself?” Alastor didn’t even look back as his pace slowed.
“Kind of hard when I can’t keep up.” Amber mumbled, trying to pull herself together according to his damn whims.
“Fix yourself.” Alastor commanded as he looked back at Amber.
She pulled the hem of her long shirt and ran her hand through her hair trying to make it look like she hadn’t been near running to keep pace with his insanely long strides. Back straight and strong. Shoulders pulled back. Neck long. Chin up. Stand tall. Breathing slow and deep.
It felt foreign. It felt wrong. It felt strong.
It felt good.
“Very good.” Alastor remarked simply, continuing on his stroll at a much more relaxed pace.
Amber was able to keep within a few paces of him, trailing along behind him as he cut through fairly peaceful streets. Sure, there were corpses here and there, there were drug deals going down where the occasional alley shot off the main road. Monster sinners crossed the road rather than share the sidewalk with Alastor and eyed the woman who was in their eyes brave enough to share her time with the feared demon.
Amber didn’t know what to do with her hands while walking in this new stiff posture. The day before, she at least had Alastor’s arm to busy one hand. She didn’t have a cane to fiddle with like him. She tried tucking her hands behind her back like he did but it felt stiff and awkward. Clasping her hands in front of her his felt better but still awkward, it reminded her of the timid life she had lived.
In the distance, she could see the tailor shop.
“Now, go get your package.” Alastor stopped, glancing at her before dissolving into the shadows, leaving her alone.
“What?” Amber looked around and couldn’t find any sign of him. Oh hell no.
He took her out of the hotel and fucking left her alone. Defenseless and alone. Shoulders sagged as she debated if she could make it back to the hotel without having an unsavory encounter of some sort. Eyes fell to the ground as doubt swan through her mind.
No, she couldn’t continue this way. At the very least she needed to complete the task Alastor had set her out on. Who knows what would happen if she didn’t at least get the clothes.
“Step one, get to tailor. Step two, get clothes. Step three, I don’t fucking know.” Amber took a deep breath and again fixed her posture. Eyes up. Head up. One step at a time she propelled herself forward, down the sidewalk and toward the shop.
Sinners didn’t cross the street for her. Some catcalled and propositioned but none actually touched her. A few sinners came close to touching her, reaching out to wrap and arm around her waist while trying to offer her something or another but she was able to sidestep them.
She tried to pretend Alastor was walking with her. Oh, how she hadn’t expected to lean on the idea of him for some confidence. It was hard to wrap her head around how he made her feel safe while also making her feel the farthest thing from safe.
The air of confidence she struggled to pull around her was nearly totally false but it was something. Though it was illusion alone, it carried her as each step took her closer to the tailor shop. Just a block away now. Then a few feet.
Her fingers trembled as she reached out for the railing as she prepared to ascend the stairs. It was here that she paused and looked around. In many ways, this was just another city street.
Could she make a life here? Could she have some independence here? What a strange idea, to exist independent of those around her. When had she last been independent? Had she ever been sucessfully independent? She didn’t think so.
Alastor was nowhere to be seen. Amber didn’t know what would come next but she wanted to believe she could get back to the hotel again, on her own if need be.
Why he was helping her, she couldn’t fathom but he was and his lesson had been vital. What other vital lessons could he teach her, if she was willing to trust him?
Clean clothes, a change in how she carried herself and she was left largely alone in the same area she had once been accosted, chased and terrorized at. She was sure it helped that she had been seen with Alastor to some extent though.
Closing her eyes, she tried to channel the way actresses would glide up stairs in the films she had watched in her life, not that she had gotten to watch many. Smooth steps as she made her way up to the porch and wrapped her fingers around the doorknob.
With a deep breath, she entered the shop.
“You made it!” Alastor’s singsong voice called out, rich static coloring the tone as Amber all but jumped out of her skin. “Good job!”
The small sheep demoness had packages bagged up and siting on the counter. She looked positively terrified to have Alastor lounging in her shop as he waited for Amber to make the walk.
“How did you-?” Amber clutched at her chest as her heart hammered against her ribs.
“Collect your bags, Dearie. I’ve got things to do, places to be and people to maim. We simply have to get going.”
Amber did as she was told, scurrying over to the counter and collecting the bags with a meek word of thanks to the shopkeeper. Any air of confidence she had managed to collect on her way in was gone, startled right out of her by Alastor.
Alastor said nothing as he lead her out of the shop. She raced behind him as he descended the stairs. There was no way she could guess which speed Alastor would walk at and part of per mentally prepared to nearly run to keep up with the much taller man.
Instead he waited for her at the base of the stairs, making her look ever more a fool as she stumbled to a stop in front of him. He looked down at her with eyebrow raised and hummed his weird musical hum.
“This simply won’t do for the meeting.”
“What meeting?” Amber wanted to go home. She wanted to go where Alastor wasn’t so she could get her bearings.
Alastor snapped his fingers with a flair and air rushed around her. Elegant red fabric draped itself over her. The flowing circle skirt danced around her legs, cutting a soft line a few inches below her knees. The neckline was high, it nearly felt like it was choking her but the back of the dress dipped low, leaving her feeling exposed in the least scandalous way possible as her hair tickled the exposed skin. Her tail fit perfectly through a hole that she was pretty sure wouldn’t be able to accommodate the fluff when it came time to remove the dress.
“Did you just dress me up like a doll?” Amber spoke sharply before she had a chance to consider her tone or who she was speaking to.
“And there you have it, again she finds her claws.” Alastor laughed, tucking her hand around his arm to rest on his forearm as be began to lead her down the street.
“Why are you doing this?” Amber dared to ask while he walked her swiftly down the street toward the heart of the city.
“Boredom, as I said. Don’t you listen?” Alastor tapped her ear rather harshly with the microphone head of his cane. “These ears are for more than just decoration, are they not?”
“They work,” Amber flung her ears forward and back in a attempt to somehow swat the microphone away without having to outright challenge the much more powerful man. “But that dosen’t really tell me why you’re treating me like a pet.”
“Getting braver!” Alastor chuckled but didn’t answer. “Good job!”
Amber yanked her arm from where it was tucked around his, stepping away to put distance between them. “Seriously. Why are you helping me? I know Charlie believes in redemption and Angel just seems nice but you-?”
“Me?” Alastor pointed to himself, static thick in his voice again as his neck cracked, head twitching to an unnatural angle for a moment. “Do tell me what you think you know about me.”
“You’re powerful.” She stated plainly, deflating. “And creepy. Sadistic, maybe.”
“You complement me so!” Alastor all but preened, placing a clawed hand to his chest and standing tall before leaning into her space again. “Do keep going.”
“You could kill me with a flick of your wrist, probably wouldn’t even feel bad about it-” She continued, stepping away from him every time he inched closer until she almost fell off the sidewalk.
“I wouldn’t.” He said though she didn’t know if he was confirming he wouldn’t feel bad about killing her or that he wouldn’t kill her at all.
She didn’t dare ask for clarification.
“You don’t get anything from helping me but what? A momentary entertainment? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Isn’t our afterlife little but a series of momentary entertainments to break up our hellish existence?” Alastor countered before his posture changed, standing tall again and ordering her to stay put as he dissolved into shadows.
“What the fuck.” Amber said to the empty space he had been. “What the actual fuck.”
#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor x y/n#alastor x oc#alastor x reader smut#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin alastor x you
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don't let me have thots all i can think about is teasing him in public/in front of guests until he eventually loses patience 😶🌫️
YES INDEED.
tw: smut
also I didn’t proofread, where we’re going we don’t need maps
Your floor length shift dress would have been modest were it not scandalously sheer. You and the new Daimyo could continue to flirt circles around each other or he could take the dress as the invitation it was and throw you onto the first available bed. Tonight, you planned to place the ball in his court and let him decide. A pendant on a delicate chain was the only jewelry necessary to accent your décolletage. You dabbed your wrists with an oil that smelled of Tusken leather and the flower of the desert plum and prepared to make the short walk from Mos Espa proper to the Daimyo’s Palace.
…
He’d invited the mayor and his staff knowing full well that it would obligate you to attend. In truth, there was no legitimate reason to involve Mok Shaiz entourage. What he hadn’t expected was an eyeful of your curves through a gauzy dress as you chatted casually with the guild heads and administrators. He wondered what game you were playing, nearly bringing these stuffy bureaucrats to their knees in an ensemble that bordered on obscene. He supposed this is what he deserved, having spent the better part every meeting with the mayor shamelessly undressing you with his imagination. If your plan was to push him over the edge, you were doing just fine.
…
Every so often you glanced at the Daimyo and batted your long, fluffy lashes. He was of course staring at you with a rather predatory expression on his face that you refused to dignify with your acknowledgment. Serves him right for teasing you for weeks on end. If The Great Boba Fett wants it, you thought, he can come get it. Otherwise you might just go home with the marginally handsome head of the produce importers’ guild and be quite obvious about it too.
…
Boba rose from the throne. Two could play at this game. He waved the mayor over as he stepped into the crowd to mingle among the guests.
“Mayor Mok Shaiz, you must introduce me to your staff. I take it they are all in attendance this evening?”
The mayor’s staff were, for the most part, an officious bunch of functionaries. But you were something entirely different and Boba Fett had underestimated your willingness to push this little game as far as you possibly could. He caught you openly flirting with the head of one of the import guilds out of the corner of his eye as he shook hands with yet another one of Mok Shaiz redundant staffers. He’d had quite enough of your insolence and excused himself to make his way across the throne room to teach you some manners.
…
“Apologies, but I need to borrow her. We have urgent business.” The Daimyo seemed to appear out of nowhere. The accurate explanation was that you were on your third Bespin Breeze and in your increasing haze, you lost track of him. Boba grabbed you firmly around the waist and steered you away from the crowd and into an alcove off of the kitchen.
…
Boba pressed you chest first into the cool stone wall and used his body to pin you still. You pushed your palms into the wall in an attempted to brace yourself, but he brought your arms behind your back and held both of you wrists in one hand. With the other he reached around to feel past your sheer dress and thin panties for your clit.
“Is this what you wanted, little one?” he hissed into your hair. You made a guttural noise in the back of your throat.
Keeping your wrists pinned behind your back, he turned you around to face him and fisted your hair. He pulled your head back to give him free access to neck and began kissing and nipping his way down your throat.
“Apologize, little one, and I’ll bring you upstairs to my bed and take care of you.”
“I’m sorry,” you replied.
“I’m sorry what?” He fully intended to break you.
“I’m sorry Daimyo.”
…
In his bedroom, he was far gentler than he had been downstairs. Having brought the minx in you to heel, he felt no need to humble you any further. Boba Fett had bridled you and now he meant to show you what it was to belong to the Daimyo.
Without his armor, Boba Fett was still imposing. Your hands ghosted up and down his hard, broad chest. He gave you time to enjoy the look and feel of his body, leaning in to kiss your forehead and place his hands low on your hips. Slowly, he gathered the fabric of your dress. You lifted your arms compliantly and allowed him to slide it over your head. It was his turn to marvel at your naked body. He knelt down and kissed your hip as he slid your panties down your legs.
“Lay down and spread your legs for me, little one.”
Boba watched as you complied and seemed to salivate at the sight of you.
“I’ve been looking forward to this since the day I first laid eyes on you,” he said reverently.
He knelt down and kissed the inside of your knee while running his hands down the backs of your thighs. He’d waited too long for this moment to rush his way through it. You reached for his hands and, seeing your need for tenderness in such a vulnerable position, he took them in his and rubbed your palms with his thumbs.
“Mesh’la, you are perfection.”
…
The wet noises he made with his mouth and his flattened tongue when he licked your clit were erotic on their own, but the tactile pleasure had you with your back arches and your head thrown back in ecstasy. Your moans had him hard and already imagining how good it would feel to be inside you, but he wanted your gushing climax first. The Daimyo was substantially endowed and he needed you ready to take him.
You came hard into his mouth, squeezing his hands and crying out. Afterwards he stroked the tops of your thighs and rested his cheek on your pelvis. The way your whole body tensed with your orgasm, he knew you needed time to recover. He kissed his way lazily up your body. There was no hurry. He stroked your cheek as he rested his forehead against yours. He felt your heartbeat and the rise and fall of your chest through his own and hummed softly to you as he waited for your respiration to slow.
“Are you ready to take me inside you, mesh’la?”
“Yes Daimyo,” you said softly. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip and kissed you. Your wrapped your arms around his neck as he reached down between the two of you to rub his hard cock between your folds to lubricate it with your slickness.
You gasped when he entered you.
“Breathe, little one. Relax and breathe.”
He remained still inside you and did not move until you heaved a sigh and he felt the tension leave your body. Then he moved slowly and deliberately, studying your face carefully for any hint of discomfort.
You adjusted to the length and girth of him, and then he felt delicious inside you. Every thrust brought another wave of pleasure. He grunted into your mouth as he kissed you.
“You’re mine now, little one. Do you know that?” His voice was husky and strained with pleasure.
“Yes Daimyo!”
You bit his shoulder as you came, and his thrusting became more urgent. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close as he exploded inside of you.
He nuzzled your neck and gently stroked the top of your head as you recovered from the intensity of your orgasm. You didn’t know yet that he planned to take care of you, that his declaration that you belonged to him was not just the heat of the moment putting words in his mouth. He pulled a bantha hide across your bodies to shield you from the cool desert wind and helped you settle onto his chest with your head tucked under his chin.
…
@dukeoftheblackstar
@daimyosprincess
@nintendobl00d
@ladytano420
I made this for y’all
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