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bakugoushotwife · 8 months

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kinktober day fifteen: brat-taming kink

>>> god bless i love him so bad...brain rot for this plot...y'all should i make this one like a series fdskjkjgjkgj i swear to god i'm feeling this way about all my fics as of late!! this one has a lot of japanese symbolism and traditions included. i am not japanese and all my research came from different sources across google, but if anything is incorrect or insensitive pls reach out and let me know <3

>>> starring: suguru geto x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: brat-taming, history/pining between reader and geto, face-fucking (m!receiving) edging (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), breeding, degradation/praise, pet names, creampie >>> wc: 4.6k >>> event masterlist:

he didn’t love the idea, to say the least. he understands why a marriage is necessary. it humanizes him, makes him relatable, opens the door to more preaching topics. he didn’t understand why he had to marry his fellow sorcerer and old classmate—especially one as mouthy as you. you didn’t either, forced into it by the higher ups with hopes you could bring suguru back to the right side of history, not taking your feelings into the matter at all, not that you expected them to. but you’re sure they already knew you wouldn’t be able to complete this mission—perhaps they hoped for your death at his hand.

at one point, you were friends. now, you were about to become the unwilling misses geto, though even that was more complicated than it seems. you were the third musketeer back in the day. even shoko preferred to stay out of the boys’ shenanigans, sticking to herself or utahime, not bothered in the slightest to let you chase after satoru and suguru. you were closer to the latter, finding it easy to gang up on the former together. he entertained your wit and you let him try out new moves on you. you loved each other. that’s why it hurt so bad—still hurts to this day—that he left and turned into this. and now you’re stuck in the thick of it.

you make him beyond angry. putting aside your utter disrespect and disobedience, you remind him of nothing but conflicting times, things he’d rather not think about now that those days were supposed to be far behind him. you hadn’t changed a bit from the day he left, and he hates that even more. you’re lively and talented, your powers long abused by the very higher ups that contributed to his madness and the ones that leveraged you into this ceremony. when he was told of your engagement, he could have refused and had them find him a new wife. he could have killed them all and refused this altogether—he’s not quite sure why he said yes. he pulls on his hakama trousers, smoothing at the pleats as he racks his brain. he slings his haori around his shoulders, and he realizes a small part of him may have always wanted to marry you; he remembers fantasies of you in high school, recalling how badly he yearned for your affection. and he hates that more than anything.

he knows you feel similarly about him, hence all your acting up. you had been short and cold and almost satoru level snotty with him through the engagement parties and wedding planning and obligatory dinners. you have the nerve to sneer as you speak and look at him with nothing but disgust. he’s the one who should be disgusted with you. you chose to stay with gojo over him, chose that world of lies and injustice when you could have been enlightened like him from the beginning. it’s only fitting you’re his bride, really. it’s what he deserves, as retribution for your betrayal. and he would make sure to claim what was his on his wedding night. the servants come to get him as he shrugs into his montsuki with a new smug smile replacing what was a dreading frown.

you wore a red iro-uchikake. and you look like a dream he had when he was a teenager. it’s ironic really. he knows not wearing the more traditional and all white shiromuku was another one of your jabs, but the color red was more significant to him than white. it means life, it wards off all evils. perhaps you knew that too, and that’s why you chose the color, though geto remembers you wearing the deep blood color often enough through adolescence that seeing you in it again makes some of the tightness in his chest let off just a little bit, even as you avoid his eyes.

he looked magnificent. his hair had grown longer, and you had always liked to play with it before, but now it cascades over his shoulder in waves despite the top-bun halving the thickness. you could hear your heart pound. if you were to tell the second year version of yourself that you would be sharing a wedding temple with suguru geto, you may have cried from relief and happiness. but as you get closer to him with no guests to witness this other than the priest and a handful of temple ladies, you feel the coursing energy of excitement and nerves. you aren’t sure what to expect from him now that no one will be watching. you don’t even truly know how he feels for you. he has been making attempts to earn your favor, but that was because he had a crowd.

he takes your hand and smiles down at you like he did when you were much younger and much less conflicted over your feelings. it makes your heart flutter like it used to, and your eyes widen a bit at his gentility. the priest offers his blessings to the gods as you two stand before him, hand-in-hand. your mind races. how much of this is real? and even if he’s being genuine, does it really matter? after everything he put you through, all the things he had done, the things he wants to do, can you look past it all just to love him anyway?

the temple servants set up the sakazuiki. they space the three ceremonial cups evenly apart, and fill them with the richest sake. san-san-kudo. you bite your lip, hating yourself for your doubt. suguru gently pulls you out of your head and towards the table, to the binding ceremony of old tradition. he picks up the first cup, holding it to his face.

“you look beautiful, okusan.” he smirks over the cup, looking oddly satisfied with himself, like he knows something you don’t. he then sips the first cup three times, holding your eyes. you feel your body burn, looking down at the kimono you chose and back to him. his fingers lightly brush against yours as you take the cup. you feel butterflies.

“thank you, geto-san.” you tilt your head down to indicate your grace, thoughts fuzzied by his intense stare and old feelings bubbling up your gut. you sip three times, and he picks up the next sakazuiki. he chuckles, and you swear you see a little bit of light in his deep eyes.

“are you waiting for titles until the conclusion of the ceremony, anata?” he piles on the mulit-meaning endearment, passing you the second cup. you nearly choke on your sake.

“no. you look very nice, uchi no hito.” you take your final sip, and it’s geto’s turn to stammer. he expected a tsureai or muko, but the one you chose had so much meaning. your home, your person. that’s what you called him. he knew the shock and wonder had to show on his face based off of your smug grin whenever you set the cup down. you think you can toy with him, pull stunts with him. you’re much too bold—and he wants to hate it, he wants to smother that personality right out of you, but for now–he’ll let himself love it.

“this binds us through our love, wisdom, and happiness.” he says the words to bring you together officially, tying your souls together for better or worse. he sips from the final cup three times, the symbolism not lost on you, and passes it to you to do the same.

“this binds us through our hatred, passion, and ignorance.” you look him in the eyes as you take your drinks, and his dark pink lips stretch into a wide smile.

“and now you are mine. how lucky we are to be brought back to each other in this way.” he chums, taking the wedding rings from his pocket as the priest continues offering his prayers to the skies. you hold out your hand expectantly, and he arches a brow.

“nine is not a lucky number, perhaps we’re cursed instead.” you shrug, that same smugness tugging at your lips. oh, you’re going to drive him crazy. you give him hope and you pull it away, you jab at him and you’re so gorgeous that he can’t even be upset with you for it. he slides the diamond encrusted with black gems down your third finger, giving you a smug smile of his own. he can play dirty too. he extends the box to you and you pluck his gold band from it, sliding it slowly down his finger. the excitement builds in your gut as you become more and more okay with whatever this is. you always thought he had a point. the jujutsu society was so horribly fucked up–maybe he was right all along and you were the coward after all. i mean, where did all your loyalty get you? sold off to a dangerous man with hopes to shut you up for good? passed around mission to mission until your body barely functioned anymore? maybe you could turn a blind eye to all his indiscretions, especially when he’s looking at you with such affection in once cold eyes. you still hold his hand in both of yours, and he enjoys the warmth, but you’ve pushed and poked him just enough, these teasing touches part of them.

instead of a kiss to seal this union once more, he leans down to your ear. “go get changed. i like simple lingerie.” he all but purrs in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the order. you were losing sight of yourself at a rapid pace. you had hoped to hold out longer than this. his lips tickle the shell of your ear and a soft gasp leaves you. you tell yourself to be strong.

“and if i don’t? you’d be lucky to sleep with me at all, husband.” you sneer, and again he doesn’t know what to make of you, but he’s dedicated to figuring it out. he leans up and tilts his head, analyzing the lust in your eyes and the shakiness in your hands. he laughs at you when he realizes.

“go get changed, little pet. we’ll discuss your guilt and attitude later.” he shakes his head at you, his gaze making you feel as if you were already undressed before him. he turns, tossing that confident smirk over his shoulder again for good measure. “red is your color.”

and then the temple girls are at your side, ready to escort their new geto-sama to her new room in the geto estate.. you allow them, trailing silently as you wonder just what he was able to figure out by looking at you, and what lingerie you would put on for him.

you choose a red babydoll dress. the sheer plunging neckline leaves little to the imagination and the tight fit of the lace leaves even less. it fans out from your body from there, the fluffy hem stopping just below your ass. seeing yourself in the mirror, perched perfectly at the end of the bed, you smile. you imagine that qualifies as simple, though you’re sure it will still make him crazy for you. you’re embarrassed to want that, to dress yourself up and present yourself to him just as he asked. your friends would be ashamed, namely one. but as the door creaks open and you feel an icy stare raking over your body, you can’t quell your excitement.

he hums approvingly as the door clicks shut behind him. he’s so grateful he didn’t deny this union out of his own narrow minded rage. he never thought he would see you again after you denied him the first time, but here you are, on the bed you two would soon share in his home, now branded with his last name— all wrapped up like a christmas present.

“sugurin–” the old nickname flies off your tongue in your haste, and a fondness glosses over the devious intent in his eyes. you clear your throat and tug the sides of your dress down pathetically. “i... actually don’t know what to say.” you blink in realization, painfully aware of how alone you two are. was he still the same man you knew?

“don’t worry, kibōchi.” he returns his own nickname, the way you squirm in your place at the sound of it wasn’t lost on him, though the name puts you at was in the same way it stirs you up. his desire returns at your doe-eyed stare, you trust him to some extent, even through your wariness. “i’ll start. you were assigned to marry me, no?”

you nod your head, now knowing he wouldn’t hurt you, not with the fondness in which he says your name. your core tingles as he approaches you, a scarily sweet smile on his face.

“good. thank you for your honesty, anata girl.” he nods, sliding his crested black kimono off, the only proper covering of your wedding remaining on his body, for your convenience if anything. “and you’ve been such a brat because…? which is it: you’re mad at them, mad at me, or mad at yourself?”

you furrow your brows at his words. it seemed he learned everything in just an extended look at you. “am not a brat.” you fold your arms in indignation, incidentally proving him right. he just shakes his head, chuckling again.

“look at you. you didn’t answer my question and you’re pouting like a toddler.” he lets his gaze drift down to your body just begging for his touch. he can’t help but wonder what you’ll like and what your favorite position will be and how fertile you are and what kind of drive you’ll have, all things he never learned about you when you were just friends. you feel his scrutiny and fight through your mixed feelings to respond.

“can’t it be a mixture of all three?” you sigh out shakily, deciding to stick to your guns even if you want him, too.

he clicks his tongue in consideration. “i suppose. but the sorcerers of your past no longer have any influence over your life. and you should be more forgiving to yourself, even if you are being a snot.”

you scrunch your nose up in distaste, hating how his words soothe your heart. “you conveniently left yourself out of that equation.” you fold your arms and it only pushes your chest out more. you’re impossible, and it’s hard for him not to smirk at you. you’re powerless, he knows and you know it—yet you fight anyway. it’s precious.

“i don’t regret leaving. i did the right thing.” he says, head held high. his devotion is moving, even when he looks at you with such a mixed bag of emotions. “i missed you however. i accepted this union to see you again.”

you can tell from his eyes that his emotion is genuine, but it still shoots pangs through your heart as you recall days spent in bed crying over his absence. you turn your head away so the influence of his obsidian stare couldn’t cut so deep. “you left me.”

“you didn’t join me when i asked you to.” he retorts, clenching his jaw at your argumentative nature. “i came back, just for you.”

“you came back to use me.” you spit, echoing the words of your other classmates. the look in your eyes is angry, this was something you genuinely believed. that infuriates him. “you were going to leverage me, until you provoked him.”

his jaw ticks again. “and who told you this, satoru? i would have thought you knew me best.” he sighs his disappointment, grabbing your hands. he pulls you off the bed, your knees buckling you into a stand—then he roughly grabs your cheeks to make you look at him. “or did you forget just how close we were? how deeply i loved you then, all the time we spent together? you’re the one who betrayed me. you were mine! mine, you were supposed to be mine and you stayed with him!” his voice rises just a bit with his frustration, but he drops his grip on you and steps back, “i would have done anything to take you with me. and everything…could have been the same, i would have kept you safe and away from this life. We could have had so much more time together—and you’re being so goddamn bratty now that i have you back…what am i to do with you?”

you blink rapidly at his speech washes over you. did he really mean it, that he just wanted you to have you? you were never intended to be used as a bargaining chip, and you let everyone else warp the vision of the man you once held so dear? you shake your head violently, rejecting the idea. he rakes his hands over his face, fed up with the back and forth. “i’ve compartmentalized you out over the years. but i have you back, and i refuse to waste any more time.”

“i’m sorry sugurin—i thought you hated me!” you defend, reaching for him. he grabs your wrists again and plants your hands on his chest, moving his touch to your face.

“then make it up to me.” he orders with a fervent nod, his hold on your face firm but comforting. you surprise him by leaning up and closing the remaining distance to kiss him, balling up his shirt in your fists. you were absolutely insufferable, annoying, bratty, and irritating—but he could do this forever. feeling you move with such passion, vigorously pulling at him and finally giving in to all those pent up feelings was enough to prompt him to do the same. he memorizes your taste for a while before he pulls away and directs you to your knees with his signature rough handling, though he’s still careful not to hurt you. “i want you to really make it up to me.”

you nod eagerly and shove your hair over your shoulders while he frees his waiting ache. he can hardly stand the sight of you on your knees under him, massive cock creating a shadow over your obedient and eager face. as gorgeous as you are like this, it was too late to make up for your transgressions. you salivate at the sight of his impressive length standing proud over you, curved and so long he leans to one side with a thickness you know will make even your throat burn. your mouth parts for him immediately, slick sliding down the insides of your thighs at the idea of relieving his drooling slit. “you’re gonna have to open wider than that, okusan.”

and he helps you do so, planting his broad callused hands firmly on each side of your face, bumping his cockhead against your puffy bottom lip and shoving himself into your silky walls. you moan out in surprise and relax your throat, making your new husband grin at the performance. He’s perhaps unintentionally violent as he sheaths to the hilt, your nose bumping against black coarse hair above his shaft. “there, there.”

he pats your cheek patronizingly, flicking away a tear that formed. “don’t cry, kibōchi. you were made for this.” he coos affectionately, body growing hot to the touch at his vision. he knew this was a great start to teaching you your place in life, and that being a brat was not one of them. running away was not one of them, you were permanently his and he would never let you go again. he pulls your head back off with that grip to use you, plunging your throat back down on him and biting down on his lip to keep his own sounds from interrupting your gorgeous gags.

“don’t you like this so much better than acting snotty, sweet wife?” he teases only slightly, taking your teary eyes flicking up to look at him as a yes. you can feel him deep, that burning sensation that you knew would come starting to sting your vocal cords. “you take me so well, i’ve always told you sorcery wasn’t for you. this is all you need to do forever.”

you moan at the idea, him keeping you home to take after the estate and maybe even caring for the kids you may have in the future. he chortles, pleasantly surprised by you yet again. “you think you’re clever, darling. acting all sweet now so i’ll forget all about your behavior, hm?”

he pulls you off with a lewd pop, pushing at the wimpy straps of your dress with a satisfied hum as the fabric falls away from your chest. “too bad. get on the bed.”

your heart raced, but you nod. your throat was too hoarse to speak anyway. you weren’t planning anything, you felt like liquid, you had given into your vows and let suguru take you mind, body, and spirit—and he hadn’t even touched you yet. you wobble up to your feet and he slaps your ass when you turn it to him, which makes you gasp and stumble forward. he hums, predatory narrow eyes watching you climb up and lay in the center of the large mattress. he wastes no time in positioning over you. he spits, thumbing his lube over your sensitivity. he pins your fluffy dress up over your stomach, lulling you into sweet moans, your high building in your stomach rapidly. he doesn’t know where to look, you’re all too perfect. the faces you make, your beautiful, slobber-soaked mouth pouting out all your pleasures, your gorgeous tits sitting so prettily in wait for him. then there was your weeping cunt, so pathetically soaked just from sucking him off.

“su–gu-rin~” you whimper out a little, your legs trying to close around his large body mass as the feeling becomes more intense. he hums, smacking your cunt.

“brats don’t get to cum.” he shrugs, licking and biting at the insides of your thighs to tease you further. your plush skin is so sensitive, and he loves watching the way you squirm to get away from his canines scraping your flesh. you gasp in anger, orgasm ruined the longer he refuses to touch where you need him most.

“brat?—you’re really gonna be mean to me, uchi no hito?” you pout, and he can feel his heart pang at the insistence and the sweet way you call him yours. you’re softening his heart already. he still had the want to punish you, but the need to claim you was surely fighting back.

“then apologize for your behavior or you won’t cum at all.” he sits up a bit, tossing some hair over his shoulder. you bat your lashes at him, knowing he was hurt by your choice, just like you were hurt by his. but now there was a chance to make it right, to be together forever like you were meant to–and if you had to apologize for your doubts in him, you would sing them loudly.

“oh—sugurin, i’m sorry! i really am,” his fingers squeeze and toy with your clit, making your body jump as you try to stutter through your words. “just mi-missed you, that’s all, was mean because i missed y-you!” you writhe and wiggle closer and away from his touch simultaneously, and he hums happily at your speech.

“that’s better.” he hums approvingly, pushing your legs up to your chest. he wants you to feel this as much and as deeply as possible. “such a good girl, did i tell you how beautiful you look okusan?”

you nod, feeling the well of nerves heating up in your core, his hands resting on your knees as he looks over the disheveled lingerie. “told me at the wedding…” you sniffle, wiggling your hips for his attention again.

“i see.” he frowns, as if disappointed by your answer. his hands feel your thighs and trail back to your knees, getting his hands closer and closer to where you needed him most with each pass. you whine desperately, and he hums out in fake curiosity, “what is it, darling?”

“need you to touch me—please.” you squirm, giving him those irresistible doe-eyes. he planned to make you beg much harder than that, but you had him worked all the way up, your body, behavior, and the history between you was setting him on fire.

“oh i’ll make you cum, kibōchi.” he moves his grip to the backs of your thighs as he moves his hips forward. you try to prepare yourself but it’s no use, he plunges in without any hesitation or resistance on your part. it aches, you clench down at the spread and his thumb comes back to your clit to rub the pain away. “but you can only do it on my dick. got it?”

you nod slowly and his hips set a pace. he’s so deep you can barely believe he’s allowed to fuck you like this, the pain melting away to a dull pleasure, different from earlier. his gaze is still white hot and searing, devouring every inch of your body. “you really are so beautiful, sweet okusan. my kibōchi turned perfect cocksleeve, yeah?” he growls into the space between you, his fingers digging into the fat of your skin so hard you know he’ll leave his mark.

that draws a moan out of you, loving the idea of being nothing more than a wife, his partner, something you never thought you’d be once you parted ways. the feeling of him rocking into your body is addicting, and now you know you are capable of looking past anything he’s done or will do just to love him anyway. you would throw all your morals away just for this, and he knows that too. “my pretty little okusan, trying so hard to pretend she didn’t want me. now look, the prettiest you’ve ever been bouncing on me.”

he leans over your body, deepening his angle and allowing him to pick up his speed. he watches the way your tits bounce at this pace, your eyes rolling back a little as you’re rendered unable to speak again, only lewd smacks of his balls against your ass and his feral grunts to be heard. his hand finds your throat, and his mouth drops open in response to your sweet moans and impossible beauty. you are perfect. he knew you would be, but your pussy was his personal kryptonite. “you feel so good, anata girl. you look even better, stuffed to the brim.”

he smiles at the double meaning. you are his darling girl, but you are also his exasperating brat. god, he always knew what to say. your jaw falls, gripping his forearms to warn him that you were close. “please—need to cum!”

he hums, nodding his approval, “then cum, okusan.” he commands, deep voice booming. his spine tingles at the idea of you taking your first round of his seed. his hair falls so angelically around his angular features when you open your eyes, it’s the final push over the edge. you choke out a moan, and then your nails are scraping at his biceps, his shoulders and chest, whatever you can get your hands on, and your release is rushing over his dick seconds later.

“are you on birth control?” he groans, feeling his cock twitch in between your wet walls. you shake your head, chest heaving deliciously. “good, let’s see how fertile you are.”

your eyes cross at his statement and his balls feel so heavy, squeezing tight and spurting out their contents against your womb. your head digs into the pillow and his falls back at the feeling of being so full and warm. he keeps his hips rocking, making you gasp with every stroke as he shoves his deposit deeper. You’re both panting when you look at each other, years of unspoken yearning and love being communicated between you. there’s a lot to catch up on, and a lot to relearn about one another, but one thing is certain: this marriage was fated, and not arranged.

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru smut #geto x you

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sleepyghostuwu · 2 months

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Aventurine Headcanons: Working with him

(A/N) Just some goofy ahh headcanons I made for our goofy ahh gambler because I like him very much (I'm patiently waiting and saving up for his banner). These can be viewed from both a platonic and a romantic POV ;) Enjoy~!

Cw: Alcohol and gambling mentions, subtle spoilers to his backstory from HSR 2.1

First off, you're going to have one heck of a ride with this man

He's very snarky, so brace yourself for a hellish amount of attitude every time you interact with him for any purpose. It can and will get to the point that you actually start complaining about him at least once to your other friends and colleagues during breaks or even work itself.

Aeons forbid if aforementioned friends and colleagues counter your complaints with the argument that he's very handsome. As if being devilishly good-looking and charismatic is going to excuse his sass (Unfortunately, it does).

He can't help but chuckle whenever he finds out that you've been grumbling about him to pretty much the entire workplace. Not even the innocent janitors and cafe baristas are spared from your rants.

He also has a bad tendency to eavesdrop on your conversations whenever given the chance, solely for his entertainment.

He finds it amusing to "just so happen to pass by" when you're talking about anything (including your complaints about him messing with you), even more so when he decides to interject into the conversation when you finish talking, giving you a nasty surprise in the process.

"...I just can't stand having him around anymore!" Aventurine, who has been listening for the past 20 minutes: "Oh no, how awful of him." "SHUT UP, YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID!"

Even when his sass continues to show itself to you, once the both of you get used to working together and get more acquainted with each other, you may even end up getting along with him pretty well, much to the surprise of both of you. Before you know it, when the time comes, the both of you are now good friends with each other.

If you think simply working with him in the same workplace is bad enough of an experience, imagine earning his friendship and unlocking a newer level of shenanigans he's about to pull off before you while you're at it.

Being more open to your company, Aventurine will make it a habit to drag you to the casino and bar after working hours to spend time with you.

You initially protest against his seemingly unhealthy obsession with gambling and alcohol, and often question out loud how his life is still put together, much to his amusement. As time passed, your nagging ceased, but of course, you still express concern towards that aspect of him.

He eagerly teaches you how to gamble your fortunes skillfully whenever you join him at the casino, but he only allows you three tries when it comes to playing around with the the assortment of gambling machines there, claiming that you were not ready to push your luck as far as he did with his.

He treats you to lots of drinks too. Being a regular at the bar, sometimes he boasts about having you as his companion to the bartender and the other patrons, much to your initial embarrassment.

He also makes outrightly crude jokes about colleagues he has beef with, after which you either burst out in boisterous laughter from the drinks and the same sense of humour, or you stare at him in disbelief and horror as you wonder if the both of you would be sued for his reckless remarks in public.

Sometimes you have to make Aventurine aware of his own alcohol tolerance as he downs one drink after another, even having to request a simple cup of soda for him to help him stay alert.

There are also times where he gets so wasted that you practically had to drag him home with you (you did not have his address) and leave him in a spare room for him to stay the night until he sobered up, something that he silently appreciates you for. In return, he genuinely tries to make work easier for you and tones down his attitude just a teeny bit as a way of showing his gratitude.

Needless to say, having you look out for him is a big win, both for you and the man himself.

If you've managed to reach this part of your relations with Aventurine, congratulations. You've hit the jackpot.

As the both of you spend more time together, bantering during working hours and (almost) getting financially and physically wasted at the casino bar every now and then, Aventurine slowly displays a starkly contrasting side of his flamboyant self.

While your initial outings with him were merely restricted to the casino bar, he gradually begins bringing you around a variety of places, most of which were noticeably quieter than what you thought was his taste.

Heck, he even brought you to the library once to read together with you, and you had trouble figuring out whether this was actually Aventurine you were going out with and not some quiet impostor from work who decided to steal you away after work.

That being said, you eventually find out that Aventurine has a much softer side of him that he has been keeping in the dark, one that he finally decided that he felt safe sharing with you.

You also find out that he likes drawing as a hobby and is surprisingly good at it, though most of the time he makes Gepard-skill level of doodles of his colleagues and higher-ups out of spite.

You joke once about sending those doodles to their respective art subjects as gifts, and when an amused Aventurine agrees, you honestly can't tell if he was playing along or seriously considering your suggestion.

Having grown closer to him, you also can't help but suddenly feel more curious about who he is, not as the extravagant and sometimes obnoxious member of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC, but rather as a person, whatever his real name may be.

You asked him about the barcode-like tattoo on his neck once, though from the way he tensed up at your question, you decided that this man (unsurprisingly) had some walls up, and for now, it was not yours to break through by force.

On the bright side, at least you know him a lot better compared to most people around him. For Aventurine, that will be more than enough...for now.

#hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader #aventurine #hsr aventurine #hsr headcanons #aventurine headcanons #platonic #romantic #like i said. both works ;)

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standfucker · 5 months

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Gremlin Reader Headcanons - Straw Hats, Whitebeard Pirates, Heart Pirates, Kid Pirates

CW: shenanigans, tomfoolery, and hullabaloo

Straw Hats

You and Luffy are BEST BUDS. You butted heads when you first met just from being a bit too similar, but now you understand each other like no one else.

“Quit eating stuff off the floor!” Nami snaps as you and Luffy reach for a cube of steak that fell from your plate. “Five second rule,” Luffy says. You both smack at each other’s hands, but he ends up maneuvering and grabbing the meat first thanks to his stretchiness. You respond by shoving his entire hand, still holding the steak bit, into your mouth. Luffy shouts, then laughs. Nami yells, “Y/N, ew! That’s even worse!” “You don’t know where that’s been,” Zoro adds. Luffy screams for real when you bite his hand, but he also lets go of the steak, so it’s a win. (It was yours in the first place.)

While your bathing habits are better than Zoros, it’s not by much. If you’re a girl, expect Nami to literally drag you to bathe with her and Robin. She’ll wash your hair for you if you promise to stop using soap bubbles to give yourself a beard and call yourself the “Saponicus the Bath Wizard.” At least Robin finds it funny.

Also, if you’re a girl…you put Sanji through it. Rather than getting a broom to shoo you from your perch on top of the fridge, he tries to coax you down with sweet words and sweeter foods. Instead of yelling at you for eating off the floor, he’ll wash off whatever fell for you. If you try to eat a piece of what he’s cooking, he’ll simply make you a small side plate to tide you over. To Sanji, your weird habits are endearing. But if you’re a guy? He’ll just kick your ass.

If you occupy that odd space in between genders (or lack thereof,) however, the poor cook does not know how to deal with you. After much stumbling over the subject and at first treating you how you most closely present, he ends up finding a neutral middle ground that makes you both happy.

You play with Franky a lot. You like to climb him like a jungle gym–he’s just shaped so perfectly for it. Sometimes you’ll sneak up behind Franky, jump and reach around to boop his nose to surprise him and change his hair. Every now and then he anticipates your strikes and catches you by the arm, holding you off the ground as penance for your crimes. You swing and wrap your legs around his rectangular arm to retaliate, and he’ll wave his arm to try to jostle you. It’s all fun and games until you get flung off the ship.

Once you discovered how light Brook was, you realized you could pick him up. This led to you plucking him off the ground at random and using him as a jousting lance with which to harass Zoro. Brook started to wisen up to that gleam in your eye, using his cane to keep you at a distance or jab you lightly.

Whitebeard Pirates

There are a lot of crewmates, and you manage, somehow, to be the most feral of them all. Marco calls you “the ship’s pet, Y/N” as a joke.

Unless it’s snowing, you go barefoot everywhere. The soles of your feet have thickened considerably, and you occasionally entertain your brothers by showing off how you can stick safety pins through the very bottom layers of skin. This leads to Marco yelling at you to stop playing with sharps, and that you’re going to accidentally hurt yourself.

Poor Marco has to look out for you often, especially because you do things like get into wrestling matches with the biggest crewmates. You don’t have the size to do much, but if you get pinned, you cheat by biting your opponent. This usually worked for you until you cracked a tooth on Jozu, earning a stern “I told you so” from the first division commander.

Ace is a reformed gremlin and so takes you under his wing. You remind him of Luffy, so he’s quite fond of you compared to the rest. The two of you bring out the worst in each other’s bad habits, indulging the other. If you two are ever spotted together and giggling, the others know to be concerned, as you’re certainly up to something, usually pranks.

The only person who can get you to behave is Whitebeard, and he doesn’t bother most of the time, feeling it better for his children to “sort themselves out”. But he’s not wrong–the crew takes care of you no matter what mischief you get up to.

“I bet you can’t steal Vista’s hat,” Thatch challenges you and Ace one day. You’re always well-mannered toward Thatch, because he’s in charge of the food, but that doesn’t mean you guys won’t challenge each other to dares. “I bet I can steal it before Ace does,” you immediately respond. Ace protests fiercely, and the game is on. Ace takes a straight-forward approach, sprinting down the deck like he’s going to run past Vista, leaping into the air, and going to swipe it off. Vista blocks his hand with a raised arm. “What are you doing?” Vista questions. “Nothing,” Ace says, jumping again and promptly getting grabbed by the arm and tossed aside. This repeats, with Ace making big, energetic attempts to steal that hat and getting thrown around instead, over and over with no success. You wait until Ace has calmed down, then approach Vista. “Can I tell you something?” you ask, motioning him to lean in closer. Vista’s smart enough to know why you want him to bend down, but his reflexes are quick, so he leans over anyway. “Yes?” You stick your fingers up his nose. Vista makes a muffled, indignant shriek, flinching. Completely caught off guard, he’s too slow to stop you from snatching the hat off his head. “Run!” Ace screams, and you book it with Ace joining at your side. You wave the hat and yell, “Burn it, Ace!” mostly joking. “I’ll gut you both!” Vista shouts, hot on your heels, drawing his swords as he chases you two down, the sounds of your crazed laughter echoing through the deck. Marco sighs and gets ready to heal you again.

Heart Pirates

You would tire out Law, but you’ve been a part of the crew for so long that he’s used to your antics. Really, you tire out Bepo, who’s in charge of keeping you in line.

The Polar Tang has a ventilation system to keep airflow and environmental controls during dives. You like to crawl into the vent shafts for fun and because they’re a cozy, private space away from everyone else. Whenever no one can find you, Law locates you on the ship and uses his power to teleport you out. You’ll be napping peacefully, shirking your duties, and suddenly you’re falling through the air and onto the floor in front of your captain–whoops, busted.

Once you tried to steal Law’s hat as a joke. He removed your hands for the rest of the day, stating you’d lost hand privileges.

“Aw, but Captain, your hair looks so nice,” you whined, and Law’s cheeks turned pink. “You’ll get your hands back tomorrow,” he ignored your statement and tossed your hands into a sack, tying it shut.

After that you had to mop the Polar Tang by biting the mop handle, which your crewmates said you took to way too easily.

You’ll sometimes leap onto Bepo’s back, gently tugging on his ears–they’re so round and cute. Resigned, he just supports your legs and lets you. When you can’t resist and end up biting his ear, he yelps, then states that you remind him of the folks from his home island of Zou, and finds it almost soothing.

You, Penguin and Shachi have an ongoing prank war. It’s one you all keep contained so that it doesn’t reach Law, but is otherwise ruthless. Shachi’s been pantsed by you so many times you’re pretty sure you’ve seen every pattern of underwear he owns, but it’s his fault for letting his guard down so frequently. None of you are safe falling asleep first around the others lest you get your face scribbled on, hence your habit of napping in the air vents.

The Polar Tang doesn’t get visitors, but very rarely will gain a new crewmate. As one of the first handful of people recruited, you liked to make noises in the air vents and had certain newbies convinced the ship was haunted. It didn’t help that you told creepy stories of ghosts of people who died deep underwater, where the ship was currently sailing through… Ikkaku always chided you to stop freaking people out.

Though most would expect Law to get annoyed by you, he actually takes comfort in your antics. You’re consistent, at least, in a chaotic world. He can always count on you to keep spirits up and to keep the rest of the crew on their toes.

You’re settled in an air vent with a flashlight and a book one day. You hear a muffled “Room,” from somewhere, then Law appears next to you, having to hunch over so he can fit. “Oh, hey, Captain,” you say. “You know,” Law says, “I think you’ve actually got the right idea. Some days the Polar Tang, despite everything, feels too big... Some days even my quarters feel too big.” “Is today one of those days?” you ask as Law inspects the vent walls. They’re clean–likely your doing–which surprises him. He nods. “You should try taking a nap. It’s very cave-like and cozy here.” “Do you just lay out on the metal?” he questions. “Yep. But if that’s uncomfortable for you, well…” you pat your lap, completely nonchalant. Law studies your face. You give him a cheery smile. He sighs, and stretches out. It’s more comfortable this way. He rests his head on your lap. You continue reading quietly, angling your book and the light away from Law’s face. He adjusts slightly and deflates, relaxing. Right before falling asleep, he takes off his hat.

Kid Pirates

You fit right in with the Kid pirates. No one gives you so much as a second glance for most of the things that you do. For the most part, your level of gremlin behavior is not that much more intense than some of the other crewmates.

Though Kid/Killer/Wire will pick you up by your jacket hood when you act up too much. You retaliate by pinching the offender’s nostrils shut. This leads to you getting scolded, but you start laughing because they talk with a “congested” voice. Eventually you get threatened with being thrown overboard, which finally makes you fall in line.

You’re good with electrical work. Aside from using a stun gun in battle, you like to take the little metal creatures that Kid makes and soup them up with lights and sounds. Usually you just add glowing eyes and fins as an accent, but sometimes you use your powers for evil: once you added a timed speaker to a doll that went off in the middle of the night, scaring the bejesus out of the sleeping crew.

Killer is strict about not eating food before it’s ready, but it doesn’t stop you from trying to snack on ingredients. You’ll sneak into the kitchen (poorly–you are not quiet) and try to swipe food when you think he’s not looking. Killer will see your hand reach up in his peripheral vision and feel around the countertop. He plunges a knife into the countertop inches from your fingers, making you freeze before slowly withdrawing. However, you know he would never actually stab you, so you never really give up.

You’re really good at making Kid laugh with your antics. He doesn’t even realize it until much later on in the time he’s known you. You and Kid are watching Killer cook one day, steaks sizzling beautifully on the pan, and more raw meat is piled on a plate on the table before you, waiting for its turn. “Why does raw meat look so appealing?” you say. “I kind of don’t want to wait for it to cook.” “I’m not feeding you raw meat,” Killer says. You open your mouth to make the obvious lewd joke, but Kid shoots you a look that says don’t. You close your mouth. “I know what you mean,” Kid says. You both look at the raw steak. The filets are ruby-red, glistening, with cream streaks of fat that promise to melt once on the pan. “I just want to bite into the whole thing and shake my head like a dog,” you voice your thoughts. “Then do it,” Kid says offhandedly. You pluck a raw steak from the pile, sink your teeth in, and do exactly that, growling as the steak whips from side to side. Kid bursts out laughing, caught by surprise, while Killer snaps out your name, far less amused. As Killer scolds you, Kid thinks about how impulsive you are and how often you make him laugh like that and how much he likes you. And then it hits him–wait, oh god, oh no. You’ve taken the steak out of your mouth and are laughing at yourself, and you look so nice when you’re smiling oh NO. Kid’s gone red in the face while you try to appease Killer. “My mouth germs will burn off when you cook it,” you argue. “That doesn’t matter. You’re going to get sick,” Killer grumbles. “Don’t do it again.” “Okay, fine…Hm? Kid?” you tilt your head at him. “You okay? You look a bit flushed.” “Shut up! I’m fine.” Kid says defensively. “Okaaay, moody. Sheesh, sorry for caring.” And that just makes it worse, because Kid’s now also realizing you do actually care, don’t you? Bringing him things when he’s holed up late at night in his workshop, bothering him when his mood’s down and he needs to be distracted, helping him oil the parts of his metal arm and laughing it off when you get covered in grease. “Don’t get all sweet on me, you little punk.” Kid mutters. “You’re right. I ought to stick to salty things. Like Killer’s mea–” “STOP.”

#one piece imagines #one piece x reader #one piece x you #x reader #eustass kid x reader #trafalger law x reader #zen writes

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killerpancakeburger · 5 months

Text

The wizard is dead

Pairing: Rolan x f!Reader/Tav ("She" is used to refer to the Reader twice)

Summary: You didn’t expect to end the party celebrating Ketheric's final death at the Last Light Inn making out with a certain wizard. And least of all you certainly weren't expecting to meet him again in Baldur's Gate...

Tags: Enemies to lovers speedrun, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, protective! Tav, insecure! Tav, Astarion ships it and never stfu.

Warnings: swearing, alcohol mention, canon violence and death, spoilers for Acts 2 and 3 obvsly.

A/N: Making Rolan blush as much as possible. If you too felt murderous upon seeing his bruises, this is the fic for you!

“...up. Get up. Urgh. Get the fuck up.”

An exasperated, familiar voice pierced progressively the depths of your sleep. Didn’t mean you wanted to wake up, though. You felt deliciously drowsy and ready to plunge right back into the pit of slumber.

You grumbled in protest in response to the voice and submerged your head with your pillow.

The voice emitted a grunt of aggravation following your shenanigans.

“I can’t believe Karlack put up with this every morning…”

Something suddenly started to shove you repeatedly at waist level, and you identified the something as a foot.

You rolled over to escape, in vain.

“Go away, Astarion”, you whined, muffled by your pillow.

“Oh! She talks!” commented the vampire sarcastically. “Maybe now she will deign to join us for breakfast!”

“Why are you even here?”, you lamented. “Where’s Karlach? I want Karlach.”

It was your morning ritual since your hellish friend recovered her ability to touch without burning. She’d wake you up with a bones-crushing hug, some physical affection welcomed by both of you. In comparison to her, Astarion was cold and sharp, bodily and verbally.

“I wanted to be the first to congratulate you, darling.”

He wasn’t making any effort to conceal the enjoyment in his voice, and a bad feeling arose within you, wondering what could amuse him so early in the morning. Suffice to say, Astarion was not a morning person.

Thankfully, he kept talking without needing to ask him to.

“So congratulations for shagging the wizard last night! It was the most entertaining spectacle of the party, no doubt.”

“Gale…?” You asked, filled with confusion. You enjoyed his company but neither of you ever showed interest of the romantic… or sexual… sort in the other.

“Ugh”, sighed exaggeratedly Astarion, like it was the dumbest thing he’s ever heard in two hundred years, “no, not Gale.” The name sounded like an insult. You could hear the spawn roll his eyes.

“The stuck-up tiefling! The wannabe apprentice! What was his name again…?”

All torpor is abruptly ejected from your body with the power of a cannonball. You sit up brutally, wound up like a bowstring.

“Rolan!?” The name erupted from your mouth way louder than you intended. Luckily, Astarion didn’t pay attention as he slammed his fist against his palm in satisfaction.

“Yes! That haughty little… Anyway! You two gave the Inn one hell of a show, making out in front of everybody. I have to thank you for that, really, it was getting sooo boring.”

He was looking at you with the content smile of a cat who caught the mouse. You stared back with incredulity, dumbfounded.

“You’re lying.”

“Why, darling, I would never”, he retorted smugly, putting a hand on his chest with pretended affliction, like he was wounded by your accusation.

You wanted to stand your ground and believe that he was lying, but something in his smugness, more assured than when he was deceiving people, told you that he wasn’t.

“The whole Inn saw you, so you could ask anyone for confirmation, really. They all cheered by the way. Obviously his siblings were the loudest of the bunch…”

You covered your ears in denial. Never again you would drink that much.

“You even managed to make him dance. Well, dragged him there, really. Details. He had two left feet, so that was… endearing.”

He pronounced ��endearing” the same way he called you naive that one time, and you knew that he held himself back from using a more… colorful adjective.

“Shut up”, you pleaded with Astarion. “I don’t want to hear anything more.”

He chuckled with derision.

“Me shutting up won’t change reality, dear.”

“What are you guys doing?”

Karlach’s booming voice startled you. Astarion, on the contrary, greeted her appearance with a mischievous smile, seeing another occasion to poke fun at you.

“We were just remembering yesterday night and the boldness of our heartbreaker of a leader. It was fun, wasn’t it Karlach?”

“Oh yeah!” immediately agreed the tiefling, completely missing the horror on your face and your silent plea to not add to Astarion’s pestering. “You guys were really going at it. Didn’t see it coming but what matters is that you’re happy.”

A radiant and sincere smile was adorning her lips. You covered your blushing face in embarrassment, grunting in shame and frustration with yourself.

“Karlach, if I ever drink this much again, just knock me out.”

“I mean, if you’re sure… but there’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Everyone is very supportive of you both.” she added, unsure of why you looked so down.

“You don’t understand”, you whined.

As she was about to ask for explanations, the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted your conversation. All three of you turned your gaze to Wyll, who had a tense smile - or grimace, you weren’t sure - on his face, and seemed like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Ahrem. Lae’zel wanted me to let you know that if you don’t show up in the next three seconds, she would add you to the menu.”

Suddenly all thoughts of yesterday evening were forgotten as you three scrambled towards the campfire.

⚡⚡⚡

As your little band resumed their journey towards Baldur’s Gate, you resolved to use that time to put order in your memories from last evening and in your relationship with Rolan.

Your memories were gradually resurfacing, hand in hand with a pounding headache.

Despite Astarion and Karlach’s statements, you still couldn’t believe that you kissed Rolan. Not that the idea repulsed you - far from it, actually. The man was pretty, and he was even prettier when he wasn’t busy yelling at you. However, the idea that he let you put your lips anywhere on him was laughable.

You proceeded to rewind all your memories with the self-assured wizard, trying to find the key to decipher what was an enigma to you.

Truth be told, you didn’t remember much from your first meeting in the Grove. Except for his shooting match with Lia, which was impossible to miss once inside the shelter, you remembered him vaguely as a pompous character whose every statement dripped with snobbishness and bravado, so much that it felt like he was trying to convince himself rather than his audience. Despite the airs he was giving himself, you caught him later during the tiefling party putting on a magic show simply to please his siblings, and the heartwarming display disconcerted you as much as it amused you.

The moment when you met him again in the Last Light Inn, on the other hand, was burned into your memory. He had once again caught your attention by his yelling. However, as you approached out of concern for the kids tending to the bar, the yelling quickly turned on you. You were ready to let it go - after all, if you weren’t in such a hurry to get rid of the parasite inside your head, you too would have drowned your sorrows in alcohol and lashed out at well-meaning strangers - until he accused you of being responsible for his siblings’ kidnapping by the cultists.

All your restraint snapped at those words, like a rubber band too stretched.

How did he dare? After everything you’ve done, after all the shit you’ve been through - and were still going through. You weren’t even expecting any thanks, you just wanted to be left alone. As if you malevolently sneaked inside Cal and Lia’s mind to trick them into doing your bidding. As if they weren’t both adults capable of making their own decisions.

A little voice in the back of your head whispered that he was blaming you because he was blaming himself, that rejecting the fault on someone else was the only way he found to contain the pain and guilt that were threatening to engulf him, but you ignored it. Understanding his reasons didn’t make you a doormat.

Karlach had to bodily restrain you as you were about to punch him in the face.

“Then stop whining and do something about it yourself, since I only make things worse.” you spat with as much venom you muster, leaving the Inn to find a training dummy to take out your vexation on. His shouts still reached you though.

“Oh, I will! I don’t need your help, and I don’t need your pity!”

You had almost forgotten the incident until you stumbled upon Rolan on your way to Moonrise, in the middle of the shadows. He was largely outnumbered and doomed to a certain death if your group didn’t happen to pass this way completely randomly.

Once the shadows were taken care of, you pinched the bridge of your nose in bewilderment. Did he have a deathwish or something?

“Gods damn it all. I can do nothing right - not a damn thing.”

His shoulders were shaking in frustration and anger. However, something in the tone of his voice made you feel quite different from the last time you met him. You weren’t irritated, no. You felt… sorrow. For him. Thankfully, he wasn’t aware of your emotions, keeping his eyes on the ground, stubbornly refusing to meet your gaze.

He was more furious at himself than at you this time. There was also a dose of embarrassment in the mix, after failing to rescue his siblings on his own. This display of vulnerability was the antipodes of his usual self-assured behavior, to such an extent that you wondered if the shadows were making you hear things.

“Please tell me you weren’t looking for Moonrise”, escaped your mouth before you could stop it, realizing that he very probably wouldn’t be any happier to see you now than last time.

He snapped back immediately - of course he did.

“So what if I was? Cal and Lia could be there!”

You were about to retort that getting himself killed on the way there would help no one, Cal and Lia least of all, before the last thing you told him suddenly came back to you. A cold shiver ran down your back, as you wondered with horror if he was here because of your words. You never expected him to take your remark seriously. In the heat of the moment, you had wanted to hurt him, but you had never intended to send him to die alone in those cursed lands. Unease pooled in your stomach and a sharp pang of guilt twisted your heart. You gritted your teeth in frustration. Rolan kept ranting, oblivious to your inner turmoil, which was probably for the best.

“Instead I found myself cornered by shadow-fiends and in need of rescue. From you, of all bloody people.”

That last remark was meant as a jab at you, however it failed at riling you up. How could it have, when his voice trembled like he was about to shed tears? He was finally looking at you, and the heartfelt dejection painted on his features made you want to hold him in your arms more than anything else. You quickly pushed that urge aside, though - there was no doubt in your mind that your attempt at comfort would be unwelcome, to say the least. You probably wouldn’t like it either if the roles were reversed. You two weren’t close enough for this.

Nonetheless, you tried to bring him solace through your words, keeping your tone as neutral as possible:

“You were trying to help your family - you’re too hard on yourself.”

But your efforts seemed to have the opposite effect, as he retorted in an uncharastically acerbic tone:

“Or not hard enough.”

Both his words and his timber made a shiver of dread run through you. There was something terribly final in them, that made you reconsider your thoughts about him having a death wish.

But you were nothing to him, except an hindrance, and as he bid you farewell and walked away, you simply watched him, feeling bitterly powerless, wishing that he at least made it back safely to the Last Light Inn.

Following the defeat of Ketheric Thorm and the eradication of the shadow curse, Jaheira and the Harpers had organized a celebration at the Last Light Inn the night before your departure for Baldur’s Gate. The respite was welcome for your whole party. You really needed a break before taking up the arms against two more gods. Alcohol flew freely. Former prisoners were reuniting with their loved ones. Fighters numbed their wounds and the deceased’s sacrifice was honored.

As part of the acclaimed saviors, you were making your mandatory runs around the inn before you could slip away to a quiet and peaceful corner. It was during that errand that, once again, you walked in on Rolan and his siblings screaming at each other. You sighed, passing a hand over your tired face, somehow knowing that it would be up to you, once again, to play mediator.

You downed your drink and approached, waiting for your opportunity to interfere into the conversation. Noticing an opening, you slipped innocently, nose in your tankard:

“Rolan was in a bad state without the two of you.”

The swiftness at which the situation defused itself would have almost made you chuckle if it hadn’t been that serious. Hearing Rolan state that his struggle didn’t matter made you frown but you bit your tongue. Truly that man had serious insecurity issues under all that boasting. But just like in the shadows, it was none of your business.

Having played your role, you mumbled a “don’t mention it” to Cal who was thanking you, and took your leave. Or at least you had started to, until Rolan’s voice interrupted you.

“Wait.”

You turned around out of curiosity, an inquisitive eyebrow raised, not sure if you were the one being addressed. Rolan was staring at you right into your eyes, erasing your previous doubt. Gods, had his yellow gaze always been that hard to hold?

As soon as he saw he had your attention, he started talking. And what he had to say took you completely aback.

“I’ve lashed out at you, drunkenly and otherwise, and you helped anyway.”

You held back from clarifying that you saved him from the shadows because he happened to be in the way. And that you saved Cal and Lia because… they were in the way too. You were gonna release the Moontower’s prisoners anyway, that Rolan’s siblings had been part of them was just a coincidence. However this little speech seemed to cost Rolan, which was understandable, so you kept your mouth shut.

“You didn’t deserve that - I’m sorry. And thank you.”

You opened your eyes wide - receiving an apology wasn’t on your todo list today. Least of all from someone as proud as Rolan. Even more mind-bending, he gave you a genuine smile. You were so focused on his face that it didn’t occur to you to refuse the money he offered.

Later in the night, as you were still processing his unhoped for change of demeanor, and were a fair bit tipsy, you ended up passing him a new bottle of Arabellan Dry - who gave it to you? Who told you it was Rolan’s favorite’s wine? And that you should give it to him? You had no idea. Not noticing the wine at first, he teased you:

“I’ve thanked you once already. Don’t be greedy.”

Between his taunting words, his open smile, his beautiful eyes sparkling with mirth, and the realization that he was laughing with you, something inside you snapped. Suddenly you had butterflies in your stomach, weakness in your knees, and he looked like the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. You laughed heartily, before smiling frankly, noting that he looked - pleasantly? - surprised at your reaction, not expecting an audience that easy to entertain.

You remembered talking back to him, settling yourself in a spot nearby, sharing that bottle… But for the life of you, you couldn’t remember that pretended kiss. Did you actually manage to make him blush during the night or was it just the wine?

After reflecting over everything, you still felt as much - if not more - mortified. There was no way Rolan felt happy about making a spectacle of himself in front of so many people - and in front of his siblings, least of all. Those two must have had a field day deriding their eldest. As for the kiss, it must have been a result of the alcohol and the proximity. You didn’t get a lot of opportunities for… physical affection since the beginning of your tadpole adventure, and you could easily imagine that Rolan must not have been getting a lot of action either, between fleeing the Grove, dealing with the cultists, losing his siblings and enduring the shadow curse.

You could only imagine that after such a disaster, Rolan must be back to hating you.

You sighed deeply, to the point of attracting the questioning looks of some of your companions walking by your side, before shaking your head in resolve. It was just one, regrettable evening. As long as you didn’t run into Rolan again, you could put it behind you. And what were the chances of coming across him in Baldur’s Gate anyway?

⚡⚡⚡

High, apparently. Or at least high enough to make you eat your words.

Your merry band had just crossed the doors of some fancy magic shop that took up residence in a lavish tower. You were originally there to confront the man who had put a price on Aylin’s head. Whatever his intentions were with her, they couldn’t be good. Adding wizards’ characteristic hubris and what Ketheric Thorn previously inflicted to the Aasimar together, you quickly came to the conclusion that he sought to cage her and thereby attain immortality. Your purpose was therefore simple: explain in no uncertain terms to Ramazith’s tower’s new owner that he could - should - kiss goodbye his delusions of eternal life, and, if he proved to be too stubborn to be reasoned with, deal with him in such a way that he wouldn’t be an issue anymore for your winged friend.

However all Selune’s daughter-related considerations went out the window when you laid eyes upon the shopkeeper at the counter. Somehow the tiefling who had haunted your thoughts for weeks and made you recoil in embarrassment at night, when you were left alone with yourself, forced to cope with the memories of your last meeting, was standing right in front of you. Worse, he noticed you, and the natural blush of his infernal skin miserably failed to hide the vivid flush of his cheeks. Like his reflection in a mirror, you could distinctly feel your own face blaze fiercely.

It lasted a minute or an eternity, you had no idea, until you were brutally ejected from your trance at the view of the bruises covering his face. Rolan had been so severely pummeled that purple had become the prevailing color on his visage. Ice-cold, overpowering fury spread across your veins and possessed you to swiftly close the gap between the two of you.

Consumed by anger, you raised a hand to graze his tumefied skin.

“Who did this to you? I’ll fucking kill them.”

You felt a slight pang of remorse upon seeing him struggle to not back away from you after you charged at him like a ram. His tail had started to sway wildly at your approach.

However Rolan rapidly proceeded to regain his composure, as he always did. Coughing in his fist - maybe a desperate attempt to hide his still glowingly red cheeks, or simply a way to offer himself a moment to get a grip -, he answered you, way too nonchalantly for your taste.

“Nothing- ahrem… nothing for you to worry about.”

His reply stinged. Bitterly. After all that you’ve been through together, he still didn’t trust you. Or he was still resolutely convinced that he had to endure every tribulation alone - you sincerely doubted that Lia and Cal wouldn’t have thrown a fit upon his appearance.

You didn’t know which of those two possibilities hurt more.

The righteous wrath inside you disappeared, like extinguished by a bucket of icy water, replaced by a chilling insight - it was utterly useless to fight for him when he wouldn’t stand up for himself. And, more importantly, if he didn’t consider you close enough to him to ask your help, then it was time for you to move on.

“You suck at lying, you know that?” You felt obligated to point out.

As he was about to object, you continued.

“But you’re right. If you still don’t need my sanctimonious help, I’ll just go about my day. Sorry for the trouble.”

Immediately after spatting those words, you found your outburst childish, but you couldn’t take it back. You began to storm off, determined to fully focus on the wannabe-immortal wizard problem, but a clawed hand grabbing your forearm ended your departure.

“Wait-”

You whirled around, losing more and more patience.

“What.”

Rolan sighed, but not in a way that sounded like this was a chore to him. He sighed like one does to give themselves courage before overcoming adversity. The words had left his lips before he could even think them; before he could contemplate their effect on you. Being self-reliant and showing no weaknesses had become an automatic reflex forged by a life of survival. He couldn’t shrug it off overnight - but you were the first person who made him want to try.

He then compelled himself to look you straight in the eye.

“Don’t lea- I mean, I didn’t mean to…Urgh… Gods damn it… it’s Lorroakan.”

You stared back at him, split between the newfound joy of him confiding in you, and the confusion of hearing his confession.

“Lorrowho?” You asked, slightly tilting your head in puzzlement.

The name didn’t ring a bell for you, but according to your companions’ exasperated grunts in your back, it certainly did for them.

“The tower’s newest owner”, helpfully prompted Gale behind you. “So-called greatest wizard of the Sword Coast, aspiring to subjugate Dame Aylin, took our friend here as his apprentice?”

“Oooh! That guy!”, you exclaimed. “Well that’s perfect! We were going to kick his ass anyway!”

You could have announced to Rolan that you were planning to fight a dragon with your bare hands, he probably would have gazed at you the same way.

“By the way, Rolan, you can let go now”, you added with a pointed look towards his hand still squeezing your arm.

He let go like he got burned, cheeks reddening again, swore in hellish and apologized. You assured him it was fine.

“Can you share anything that would help us take down Lorra… Larro… whatever-his-name-his?”

The tiefling straightened up, clearly in his element.

“Mast- Lorroakan has four Myrmidons.”

He seemed about to carry on on the subject, but stopped in front of your confounded expression.

“Myrmiwhat?”

The apprentice wizard opened his mouth to start an informed lecture about the properties of Myrmidons, before closing it and pinching the bridge of his nose, frustrated by your ignorance.

“Nevermind, I can make this simple for you.”

Feeling insulted, you proceeded to join your hands and excessively flutter your eyelashes to mimic a swooning admirer.

“Why, thank you Master Rolan! You are ever so generous to us simpletons!”

The aforenamed choked a bit at that, but you were not sure if it was in reaction to your ridiculous antics or to being called “master”.

“As I was saying, Myrmidons are very powerful elementals. You shouldn’t underestimate them.”

You acquiesced with a nod of your head before turning to your Party.

“Let’s get going then.”

“Should we not fetch the Asimaar?” inquired Astarion, observing his nails with detachment. “Not that I particularly care, but with how strongly this concerns her, she may come after us if we keep her out of this.”

You replied without missing a beat, having already pondered the question.

“No, I want to spare her that.”

The Vampire Spawn let out one of those unhinged little laughs he had a knack for, blending contempt and incredulity.

“I must have misheard you - spare her? The cutthroat demigod who mercilessly crushes her enemies under her boot? That’s who you want to spare?”

You had expected that kind of reaction, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

“That’s not what I meant” you grunted, aggravated by the elf’s taunting. “Of course she can take care of herself. But just because she can, doesn’t mean she has to. Dealing with relentless creeps who get off on the idea of breaking you, body and spirit, it’s exhausting, speaking from experience. I couldn’t imagine doing it for centuries. We can provide her a brief respite. If she takes it the wrong way, I’ll deal with the fallout.”

Astarion shrugged, satisfied with your answer since it sheltered him from consequences. The others agreed with nods of the head.

Rolan gave you the directions to reach Lorroakan before adding, frowning:

“Be careful. He has a beastly temper.”

The recommendation made you snicker. Before the tiefling could take offense, you brought your face closer to his, lifting his chin with your index, a wolfish smile stretching your lips.

“I highly doubt that sorry excuse for a wizard is in any way a beast. But fear not, pretty boy, I’ll show you what beastly really means.”

Whistles and sniggers could be heard from behind you, demonstrating the maturity of your traveling companions. Meanwhile Rolan’s face somehow managed to turn even redder than when you both met again moments ago, and his attempts to come up with a rebuttal resulted only in stuttering.

Benevolently, you did not comment, careful to not overstep his boundaries too much, and changed the subject, rising an inquisitive eyebrow:

“Are you not coming with us?”

He cleared his throat to give himself a semblance of composure.

“I guess I should, if only to make sure you lot do not ravage the tower on your rampage.”

You smirked a little at his efforts to appear indifferent, but refrained from making any remark, content with his participation.

As you made your way towards your target, Astarion sneaked by your side, a mocking smile adorning his lips. You mentally braced yourself for the jibe that wouldn’t fail to come.

“I figured out why you didn’t want to bring Aylin on our little excursion, darling.”

“Oh really.” you replied with the most blasé tone you could muster.

Unfortunately, your lack of concern didn’t seem to deter your vampiric ally at all.

“You want to keep your prey for yourself. To be the one to slaughter the Master Wizard. You should have seen your face earlier when you threw a fit over Rolan’s bruises, I thought you were going to bite.”

“So what? Is that a problem?”

“Quite the opposite, really. I’m planning to revel in the show. Let’s hope for you that the little wizard is of the same mind, uh?”

You told him to mind his own business and he just laughed.

Your group crossed the magic portal, entering Lorroakan’s lavish office only to stumble upon the deplorable spectacle that was the supposed great wizard sadistically torturing his servant for his questionable experimentations. Thankfully, your noteworthy arrival put an end to the loathsome display as the red-haired wizard dismissed his domestic and his mechanical construction.

“I see no Nightsong. Surely you wouldn’t have entered my tower without the Nightsong in hand. Surely my worthless apprentice wouldn’t have allowed you to waste my time.”

That last remark made your blood boil as surely as it did earlier when you laid eyes upon Rolan’s contused face. You gritted your teeth, plastering on a fake smile, before giving the man a taste of his own scorn by ignoring him completely and ostensibly turning towards Rolan.

“Is that the pathetic excuse that serves as your mentor?”

The apprentice wizard spared a glance at Lorroakan who was suffocating with indignation before focusing on you.

“... Yes, he is.”

“Great! Would have been so awkward to kill the wrong guy!”

Bestowing your most bloodthirsty smile on your foe, you made a point to talk over his outraged diatribe.

“There’s only two things you should know, really. First : you will never get your hands on the Nightsong. Second : I’m going to kill you, and I’m going to enjoy it.”

Having said your piece, you unsheathed your weapon as the wizard invoked his Myrmidons, and the battle began.

⚡⚡⚡

Standing over Lorroakan’s battered body, you made sure that he was in too much pain to ramble again. Rolan came to stand beside you, the shock on his face telling you that he had a hard time believing what he was seeing.

You looked at him inquisitively.

“Wanna do the honors?”, you suggested, referring to the final blow.

As he remained motionless and speechless, you started to worry you had said the wrong thing, but suddenly his expression turned resolute and he nodded.

You distanced yourself from the two wizards, not fancying getting caught in a spell’s blast. Rolan uttered his incantation with force - detono.

With a mixture of astonishment and awe, you watched Lorroakan’s body get hurled across the room and through the nearest window in a cacophony of shattering glass. You leaned through the destroyed window to glimpse at the mangled corpse before turning to Rolan with a low whistle.

“So much for not ravaging the tower, uh-”

You found yourself unable to finish your clever quip as your favorite tiefling grabbed you by the collar and crushed his lips against yours. The motion was brutal and clumsy, to the point that you briefly wondered if he was trying to kiss you or punch you in the lips… with his lips.

Barely leaving you enough time to reciprocate the gesture, Rolan withdrew, a wild look in eyes, panting slightly. Did he forget to breathe during…?

“You-”

“This is all your fault!”

You gaped at him in uncomfortable silence, immobile, truly at a loss for words. What in the nine hells did you do this time, again?

One hand released your clothing as Rolan covered half his face with it in consternation.

“And to think I promised myself I wouldn’t lash out at you again… Do you see how I lose my composure in your presence? Every. Bloody. Time. It’s infuriating.” He sighed.

You crossed your arms, staring at his piercing yellow eyes.

“Riiight.”

He had at least the tact to appear marginally embarrassed under your scrutinizing gaze.

“Not a day has passed since Last Light Inn where you weren’t on my mind.” he admitted, albeit begrudgingly, rubbing his neck in bashfulness, and unable to meet your eyes.

Your eyes widened at the confession. This was a surprise, although a pleasant one.

“You… you don’t hate me for it?”

It was his turn to stare in astonishment.

“For what…?”

“You made a spectacle of yourself in front of the whole Inn because of me…”

“Please, I’m not tone-deaf enough to not acknowledge my own responsibility in this. We both had… a lot… to drink.”

“Oh… Well, in that case… I’ve been thinking about you too. Since the Inn.”

It was only fair to come clean too after he made the first move, which must have definitely cost him and his pride.

“Oh.”

There you were, two blushing idiots staring at their own feet in embarrassment, not knowing what to do with yourselves. That is, until you remembered what started all of this, and you raised your head so suddenly Rolan got startled.

“We need to heal your face.”

He chuckled openly at that, but instead of taking offense, seeing him happy spread warmth in your chest.

“You should heal yourself first, ô mighty hero. You’re in way worse shape than I am.”

You frowned and grabbed his face to inspect his bruises closer.

“Being injured is second-nature for me. I don’t think you can say the same. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

He took hold of your hips in response. A derisive smile stretched his lips.

“What a poorly concealed way to get me to undress.”

“How dare you”, you protested, scandalized. “imply that my benevolence is anything but proper?”

“Maybe I wish it wasn’t.”

Before you could ask for clarification, he kissed you.

“Rolan…”

“Mmh…”

Again.

“I was serious about healing you…”

“Mh.”

And again.

You grabbed his robes and shoved him against the closest bookshelf in a drastic attempt to put some space between your bodies. The action didn’t seem to deter him at all, if anything it added fuel to the fire, as you could feel his claws even through your clothes. To make matters worse, you quickly realized that getting away was impossible with how tight his tail was coiled around your thigh.

All your worries disappeared however as a very familiar voice could be heard from somewhere on the floor underneath. Rolan definitely heard it too as he looked in its direction with a mixture of dread and annoyance.

You couldn’t discern entirely what Lia was saying, but the words “Rolan” and “Lorroakan” were definitely part of it.

You looked at Rolan with an unequivocal expression.

“We should go to them… and reassure them that you’re not dead or something.”

The new master of the tower threw his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Fine, fine!”

“Also, we’re going to fall to our deaths in the stairs if you don’t keep your tail to yourself, Mister…”

Rolan dashed off in the direction of the stairs, grumbling about siblings and lack of privacy, not without grabbing your hand in passing.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 rolan #rolan x you #rolan x reader #rolan x tav #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #mine #rolan

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shmolish · 2 months

Text

Shadow Milk x Reader

Oneshot

Warnings: Implied Swearing (?) Not proof read

-Rainy Day Shenanigans-

What is one supposed to do on a rainy day?

Sleep in? Play games? Read?

According to Shadow Milk Cookie, it's clinging to your lover.

"I'm not clingy, I'm conserving body heat."

His arms wrapped around your waist, and he'd hold you close to him.

"The only one cold here is you," You'd respond.

"Okay, what's your point?"

You'd sigh.

There's no reasoning with him.

But oh well. It's not that bad.

"Oh! We should bake something!" He would suggest out of the blue.

"What- Why?"

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

Shadow Milk Cookie took hold of your hand and dragged you into the kitchen.

You had just cleaned the counter earlier, so it was pristine with a white glow.

That wasn't going to last very long.

"So, what do we plan on making today?" You asked him.

"A cake!"

"You know neither one of us know how to bake, right?"

"Yeah but how hard can it be? We get the recipe and do the things. Easy."

He found an easy enough recipe and started to collect ingredients around your house.

"This is everything!"

Flour, eggs, milk, vanilla extract, sugar, butter, and baking powder.

"Okay, what do we do first?" You asked.

Both of you went through each of the steps, measuring and adding ingredients.

Sure, it was messy, but things weren't that bad..

...

"MILK WHAT TEMPERATURE DID YOU SET IT TO?"

"3,500?"

"WHAT THE F-"

So yeah. That happened.

The cake came out as a pile of ash.

"Um, ta-da?" He smiled at you awkwardly.

"You were supposed to set it to 350, not 3,500," you said while glaring at the 'cake'.

"Oops! My bad..." He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.

"But at least I failed with my most beloved~"

He kissed your neck softly, snaking arms around your waist.

"So cooking isn't realy our thing. Wanna play games instead?"

"I guess-"

《☆》

"Go fish."

You rolled your eyes and drew another card from the pile.

"Do you have a seven of hearts?"

You handed him your card. This is the tenth match he's had this game.

"Are you cheating?" You'd ask with a skeptical look.

"No, you're just bad."

"I'm am not. This game is basically luck based."

"Okay, whatever. Do you have a king of spades?"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, love," he said with a grin.

"Go fish!"

...

"I want a rematch! I can definitely win this time."

You played ten rounds with him, and only won two.

Each time he'd snicker at you, and give you that cheeky grin.

"Doll, I admire your persistence. Really, I do. I just think we should try something else..."

"Like what?"

"Like watching a movie. That way I can hold you close to me, and admire you."

"So you don't really care about the movie then?"

"I mean, I do care about it. Just not as much as I care about you. There's nothing I care more about that you, dove."

You couldn't help the slight blush on your face.

You couldn't help the way your heart churned.

How had you gotten so lucky?

"Now come on, I wanna hold you!"

Shadow Milk Cookie would pick you up in his arms and place you down onto the couch, where he spent his time wrapping his arms around you, and giving you his affection.

A random movie played in the background, but to him, you were much more entertaining.

"I love you," he cooed.

"I love you too," You'd respond.

《☆》 Fin

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bidisastersanji · 5 months

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Classic high school anime tropes ZoSan omigosh listen up this is so cute and I have so many tropes to hit I basically wrote down the beats of the season:

Unexpected mid semester half foreign transfer student Sanji with mysterious past

Zoro sits by the window at the back of the class and Sanji is told to sit next to him

Dropping the eraser and brushing hands oh my this new guy has the softest looking hair and his eyes are so blue

Your eye-

Huh?

Your eyebrows look stupid.

What did you say you stupid mosshead?

-Roronoa. Black. Stand outside. (With the buckets, staring daggers at each other)

Thus starts their rocky friendship (?) and they’re forced into interacting because they’re sat next to each other in class and constantly are paired to do class work together.

Sanji’s flirty and deferent nature around women- students and teachers alike (and his occasional nosebleeds) rub Zoro the wrong way, and Zoro’s disregard for women, hygiene, manners, the dress code/uniform etc annoy him even more.

He also hates how popular Zoro is and the amount of love confessions he gets and that he does not handle gracefully at all (you’re such a brute!)

Rivalry intensifies during sports class- episode where they go absolute ham during dodgeball and scream out attack names

Although it must be noted that Zoro feels warm when he sees Sanji stretching effortlessly, and being sweaty and fiery during sports class

Nami is elected class rep and Sanji vice class rep

The high school girls think Sanji is princely and mysterious and he quickly becomes popular thanks to his beautiful bento and the snacks he makes for his girl classmates

Zoro observes him and thinks he’s always putting on a mask and keeping people at arms length. He doesn’t let himself admit that he kind of feels bad for him but subtly drops comments that get Luffy interested in him so that Luffy can force him to join their rowdy friend group

They go to karaoke and the strawhat shenanigans slowly crack at Sanji’s composure until he’s singing loudly and happily with everyone else by the end of the evening

From then on Sanji’s smiles are more genuine and happy and Zoro is more than content with his little plan

Nami noticed and teases him about it

At least one scene where Nami steals Sanji or Zoro’s umbrella so that they share one and go home together (they learn they have to go in a similar direction and walk some of the way together from that day on “you’ll get lost without my help mossy, we know you already have too many lateness issues with the school)

Sanji joins so many clubs- he works really hard to be top of the class and does all the things that would get him into a top university- and it’s only after Zoro talks to him that he decides to follow his heart and join the cooking club and drop another club

He later gets his first part time job at the Baratie and gets basically adopted by his new father figure Zeff (Sora’s brother who he reconnected with)

He’s so excited to have some money of his own and gets a marimo keychain for Zoro’s birthday

Episode where Zoro gets sick (I thought idiots didn’t catch cold?) and as vice class rep (Nami makes an excuse not to go herself) he has to go give Zoro notes and stuff

Highly entertaining scene where he gets to Mihawk Manor and meets Zoro’s goth family

Followed by sweaty feverish Zoro in his bed that absolutely does not make his stomach flip flop and his hands sweaty (he brought homemade soup!)

Obligatory Zoro pushes himself too hard to prove he’s not sick/weak and passes out on Sanji and Perona walks in on an easily misunderstood position they’re in

BIG EXAM arc where everyone is stressed out, Sanji shares his notes and organises a study group at his place - revealing that he lives alone in a studio apartment, he glides over his explanation and says it has to to with the fact that he’s half and his French dad doesn’t live in Japan, and Sanji wanted to live here because his mother was Japanese. No one dares dig deeper but Zoro can tell there’s a lot more to the story, Sanji looks very tense and his fake smile is on (also there’s no family pictures at all)

Zoro falls asleep during the study group and Sanji definitely doesn’t think he’s adorable drooling on his tatami floors

Zoro is captain of the kendo club and has a very… intense fan club of people of all genders who guard him very jealously

Zoro interacting with Sanji constantly makes the fanclub jealous and some try to intimidate him and bully him into avoiding Zoro but he refuses to be pushed around until they find stuff about his past/family and blackmail him (this happens in a bathroom probably)

Zoro gets insanely annoyed that Sanji has been ignoring him- he then confronts Sanji about it- cue dramatic, tear filled scene where Sanji says hurtful things to push Zoro away

A few weeks pass until Nami and Usopp catch wind of what really happened and Zoro is FUMING with anger when he learns what happened. He confronts the head of the fan club and tells them to burn whatever it is they have on Sanji and to never go near him again, threatening them

Things eventually go back to normal

Zoro exasperating Sanji with his inability to not burn everything they’re supposed to make in home economics

Winter holidays and Sanji is lonely (but happy to spend Christmas with Zeff)

He is cheered up by his friends making plans to go to the new years festival in kimono (he wouldn’t miss Nami and Robin in kimono for the world! - he says , while also thinking of what Zoro will look like) zoro comes in normal clothes and he’s disappointed and insults him for not making an effort and what did he even expect from a sentient plant

Zoro keeps stealing looks at how beautiful Sanji looks in his kimono though. Nami tries to bribe him into revealing what luck/what prayer he did but he doesn’t cave, no matter how much of his debt she would wave off

Sanji gets “extremely bad luck” in love and cries haha

Valentine’s Day and White day shenanigans with obligation chocolates and homemade chocolates and Zoro feels sad cause he didn’t get any from Sanji- is even particularly jealous that Law, Pedro and Ace got some, but Sanji gave him something else since he knows he doesn’t like sweet things but Zoro didn’t realize it was a Valentine’s Day gift until Nami explains it to him later

Zoro struggles to find a gift for white day since he still can’t tell if it was obligation or romantic on Valentine’s Day - he gets Sanji a kitchen knife, to the hilarity of all and the panic of their teacher

The straw hats going to cheer on for Zoro at his kendo competitions and Sanji definitely doesn’t think to himself that Zoro looks very cool

Culture festival is ripe for SO MANY THINGS do they do a maid cafe??? Is Sanji forced into a maid dress by his burgeoning fan club/the girls in the class he can’t say no to? Sanji is so happy to bake the patisseries for it all (also Zoro’s reaction ti Sanji in the maid outfit and saying welcome goshunjin-sama before he sees who walked in and turns tomato red)

Alternatively they could do a play where they have to play the prince and the princess and we get Sanji as the beautiful princess, directed by Iva-Chan of course- and they torture themselves over the kiss scene

Luffy pressures Sanji into accompanying him and Zoro to the haunted house done by another class and Sanji is terrified and grabs onto Zoro (you will never speak of this to anyone, marimo, you understand?)

Beach episode!! Nosebleed Sanj surrounded by bathing suits (not just the girls, this man is a proud bisexual disaster).

Going at Mihawk’s expensive beach house with all the strawhats. Watermelon smashing, ice cream, playing in the water, going in a cursed/legendary/scary/lover’s cave (repeat of Sanji tightly holding on to Zoro for dear life, especially since there are bugs) fireworks, near love confessions with one of the two parties asleep and not hearing it

Background world wise- seven warlords are on the student council and hold a lot of power of course

Obligatory jealousy episode with the childhood friend and misunderstandings- Kuina (yes she’s alive, but a wheelchair user she survived the accident but can no longer compete in able bodied Kendo) comes by school and Sanji misunderstands the tenderness Zoro shows her, jumping to conclusions in typical anime fashion and running away

Class trip to Kyoto arc where the boys struggle with all the romance in the air, sitting next to each other on the Shinkansen (zoro falls asleep on Sanji’s shoulder and he lets him and shushes people), get into trouble when they’re late to the meet up because Zoro got lost( sharing a hotel room - yes Usopp and luffy are there but they need to share a bed omg), buying souvenirs, getting into a fight with local school punks (Killer and Kidd)

ALSO OF COURSE a bath scene during the Kyoto class trip what was I thinking, we need a nosebleed Sanji being taught how Japanese bath etiquette is- Sanji asks about Zoro’s scars and lies about his own when Zoro notices the many marks he has

Possibly tie up the story with finally revealing Sanji’s tragic backstory that’s been hinted at the whole season when Judge comes and removes Sanji from the school and plans to send him to a boarding school abroad- everyone bands together and dramatically save the day and Zeff adopts Sanji and Zoro and Sanji confess to each other and become boyfriends

The end

#wow this got so much longer than I meant to make it haha #I can just picture it so clearly haha #did I miss some tropes ?#zosan #zoro x sanji #sanji x Zoro #zosan fic idea #high school au zosan #anime tropes zosan #op zosan #op sanzo #sanzo #can you tell I’ve watched too much anime #my brain is mush

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francis-writes · 4 months

Text

How does evening look with them? (SFW)

Including: Nere, Raphael, Cazador, Gortash, Abdirak

Nere

Bad news: as you drink wine, Nere keeps talking about his duties and complaing about his servants and it requires a lot of effort to convince him to focus on lighter topics and to separate work from private life.

Raphael

He is a busy man, you see, and usually he spends a lot of time making deals and plotting schemes. But even fight for power doesn't make him forget about you and he tries to find a few hours for you alone everyday. Usually you relax in the House of Hope, sipping wine and talking about recent events. Sometimes Raphael reads for you or recites some poem.

Gortash

Evening with Gortash can go two ways. Either you relax at home or you engage in some illegal activities, shenanigans and wreaking havoc - for your own entertainment or because of your gods' orders. If you stay at home, you probably just lay on the bed, h*lding h*nds and resting after tiring day of pleasing your deities.

Cazador

You often visit lavish banquets and parties organized by elites of Baldur's Gate so Cazador can establish his social position but that doesn’t mean you don't have fun. He dances with you and whenever he leaves to discuss some political matter, you can easily find other company.

Abdirak

If don't worship your goddess in spare time (yeah, for Abdirak every time is good for some pain), then you just take care of each other’s wounds, cuddle and chat. If you have a hobby then he engages in it or at least observes you. Despite his love for torture, Abdirak is the sweetest caring boyfriend.

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skribbyposts · 4 months

Text

ZOSAN AND MECHANICAL BULL SHENANIGANS?! sign me up, yes please.

post inspired by @bidisastersanji 's fantastic prompt, though slightly different since I kept it in the canon verse instead of making it a modern au.

buckle up children, get ready to go bull riding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This is so stupid," Zoro grumbles.

"Can you enjoy anything, for once in your life?" Sanji plucks the cherry from his drink and tosses it into his mouth.

"I can, just not this."

Apparently, watching people get thrown off of a sad excuse for a mechanical bull in some shoddily made ring is supposed to be enjoyable. Zoro has lost count of the number of parties he's been dragged to by his captain, but watching people compete this way for a fucking cowboy hat has to be the least entertaining thing he's ever seen.

"Stop being such a buzzkill. Anyways, it's 'cause these people are fucking terrible," The cook says as he plays with the cherry stem between his teeth. "We had one of these at the Baratie; even Carne could stay on longer than these losers." Sanji downs the rest of his drink, muttering something under his breath.

Flash forward fifteen minutes (and a few drinks), and Zoro is ready to fall asleep. Next to him, Sanji has gotten progressively more vocal about how bad the partygoers are at riding around on the contraption in front of them. The crowd circling the ring has also gotten progressively bigger, squishing them shoulder-to-shoulder.

"Put your goddamn back into it!" The cook cups his hands and shouts to the man up next, who is currently trying to avoid getting rocketed into a wall as the bull violently bucks around. However, the blond's proximity to Zoro also means he shouts right in his ear.

"Do you ever shut up?" Zoro gripes.

"You shut up," Sanji replies, angrily nursing a margarita he stole off a waiter's tray.

"I wasn't even-- I hate you."

About thirty seconds go by before the cook exclaims in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air and almost spilling his drink all over Zoro. "Everyone's fucking incompetent!"

Zoro groans. "Stop complaining like you could do any better, curly-brow."

"I'm offended that you think I couldn't!" Sanji shouts over the cheering of the crowd as another person gets bucked off.

Zoro thinks the cook could last a lot longer than anyone up there, but he doesn't say that -- Sanji's ego is big enough.

"Here, marimo. Hold my drink," Sanji pushes the half-empty glass into Zoro's hands. "Let's make a bet. How long do you think I can stay on?"

"Curly, you're drunk."

"Answer the goddamn question."

Forever, if Sanji really tried. "Five seconds."

Sanji shoots him an offended look. "Jesus, where's your faith?" With that, he turns away and pushes himself to the front of the group of bustling people.

Sure enough, Zoro's watching the cook clamber into the ring, a lit cigarette in his mouth (where did he get that from?) and the worst posture Zoro's ever seen.

The cook hops onto the mechanical bull, grabbing onto the metal grip before pointing and yelling at someone in the corner to start it up.

The thing starts slowly at first, and Sanji's hair sways as the bull moves back and forth. the cook barks again at some unseen person, and then it really starts to ramp up.

The bull starts bucking hard, the force at which it travels increasing each time it swings. Zoro would be worried if he didn't recognize the look of smug anticipation on Sanji's face as he straightens up, even from back in the crowd. He's about to pull some crazy-ass stunt.

When the bull leans forward, The cook uses the momentum to push himself off the handlebars from a seated position and into a handstand, twisting around to plant his feet on the saddle as he comes down.

Sanji moves fluidly with the machine, hips shifting in every direction it leans to keep himself firmly onboard. while the crowd roars, Zoro watches every movement Sanji makes with rapt attention. the blond rocks with the bull, hands now in his pockets and lips still wrapped around the cigarette he pulled from out of nowhere.

He pulls a few more tricks, long, muscular legs propelling him up to balance on the wooden horns of the bull - and gives a cheeky wave to the crowd. Goddamn. Zoro wishes that didn't work on him.

Sanji finishes up his routine with a flourish, doing an aerial and landing smoothly in a crouch on the hay floor of the ring. The crowd cheers even louder than before, and some tubby man comes out to give the cook a pink, bedazzled cowboy hat. The sea of people parts and leaves Zoro standing there awkwardly as Sanji saunters towards him.

"How's that for five seconds, Greenie?" the blond spins the hat around on his finger.

Zoro grunts and tries to suppress the flush on his face. "I could do better."

Sanji rolls his eyes, taking back his drink. "Sure you could. Anyways, I could last a lot longer than that in... other things, y'know?" Sanji makes eye contact with him as he downs the rest of his margarita. "What's that phrase again... ride a bull, fuck a cowboy?" He shrugs, placing the cowboy hat on Zoro's head then looking him up and down. "Eh, close enough."

If Zoro had liquid in his mouth, he would have done a spit take. "What!?"

The blond smirks and puts his cigarette out in the bottom of his glass. "You heard me, marimo. Now- WHERE'S THE FUCKING BATHROOM?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji: i really wanna fuck a cowboy rn *puts cowboy hat on zoro* Zoro: *shocked, confused, bewildered* Sanji: That'll do, i guess

eughhh writers block hit me so hard for like 3 days and i rushed to get this out so this might be kinda terrible. wrote it in like 7 minute intervals over the course of a day so some things might not connect?? lmfao..... sleep deprivation is so fetch.

thibking of making an a03 account..... ill let yall know if i do!!!! hope u enoyed reading this pls comment i really appreciate it !! <3333

#one piece #zosan #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan brainrot #one piece zosan #sanji one piece #zoro one piece #zoro is whipped..... i dont blame him #Sanji using quotes to fuel his mischevious agenda.#save a horse ride a cowboy #or something...#they are so #lgbtq #gay people!!!#just kiss already

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loonylooly · 9 months

Text

at this point i'm wondering what sarah is thinking when writing her love interests, like ok it's clear she finds them hot but like....are they good people

Rhys:

UTM lap dance shenanigans

throwing Feyre into danger constantly (Weaver, destroying cauldron, getting the book from Adriata, etc etc)

Still not doing jack shit about wing clippings in Illyria?? Emerie is right there, Rhysand, go enforce your damn laws

Insulting his wife's sister constantly

Almost killed his wife's sister cause she dared give her important medical information

Locked Lucien (MY BOY!!) in the house of wind

Locked Nesta in the house of wind

Didn't give Mor any warning that time he made her face her abusers and she cried i think (ngl i forgot most of it)

Ignoring Hewn City even tho...Kier is like the only bad guy we've seen from there?? Surely there's decent people in Hewn City, don't gotta make everyone suffer

Nesta windhaven kidnapping intervention so she stops spending Rhys' money (if it was really about her own sake, they would've put a stop to it much earlier)

Seemingly alienates everyone in Feyre's life that could and would stand up to Rhys for Feyre's sake. Lucien? Nah, shoo. Nesta? Nah, shoo. Weird thought but Tarquin? Yeah, makes her steal his book.

And last but DEFINITELY not least; demon baby wife death

HE COULD'VE TOLD FEYRE... OR ATLEAST NOT THREATENED TO KILL HER SISTER FOR TELLING HER WHEN HE HOULD'VE TOLD HER IN THE FIRST PLACE??

THERE'S PROBABLY MORE BUT MOVING ON

Cassian:

Barely ever stands up for Nesta in the IC

Aids in kidnapping Nesta to Windhaven so she stops spending whysand's money

Laughs at Nesta when she falls down the stairs

Aids in punishing Nesta for daring to tell Feyre important medical info

Constantly going agaisnt Nesta's wishes and trying to "save her" when she doesn't want him to

That one time Azriel asked Nesta if Cass had pushed her down the stairs...Like are we gonna ignore that?? Personally I'd have a quarter life crisis if my closest friend, who is like my sibling and has known me most of our lives, seriously entertained the idea that i would physically assault the girl I like

general aggressiveness all of ACOSF

aids in bulldozing Nesta's apartment

Rowan goddamn Whitehorn (Who I've yet to see people bashing him somehow,,, HoF rowan was like if ACOSF cassian had a horrific murder baby

Left his pregnant mate alone during a war cause he wanted to prove himself....like..idk man if i had the choice between war and taking care of my pregnant wife i'd pick the wife (did he know she was pregnant? i've kind of forgotten by now)

Rowan's kid would've been hundreds of years older than Aelin.....just think abt that

Literally everything he did to Aelin during training in HoF

Their argument where he PUNCHED HER IN THE FACE

Threatened to whip Aelin...I repeat....Threatened to whip Aelin, an ex-slave....

Told Aelin it'd be better if she died 10 years ago (unprovoked?? bitch you met her like 2 weeks ago just cause she's getting on your nerves doesn't mean you gotta wish DEATH upon her)

Literally was relieved to find out she was only 19 because if she was a few years older she could've been THE CHILD OF HIS BEST FRIEND.

No issue with marrying the cousin of his best friend's child....Imagine if he hadn't met Aelin first.. If he'd met Aedion first, Aelin would've always been the relative of his friend's son to him

FOR THE RECORD i hate all of the SJM age gaps but rowan and aelin's specifically irks me because Aelin LITERALLY CALLS HIM OLD throughout the WHOLE SERIES

Literally tells Aelin he doesn't care about what she's been through and that she is nothing to him after she confronts him for leaving her

Puts Luca in danger by sticking him on to a frozen lake with a monster inside where he'll DIE if Aelin can't save him

Funnily enough, some of the only seemingly decent person guys in SJM 1. Are completely forgotten about in the books or 2. SJM had to make them violently unlikeable

Like we've got:

Tarquin, seemed like a pretty good guy, rightfully pissed that the IC stole his family heirloom, shows up like twice in the books (LET HIM COME BACK SARAH I LOVE HIM)

Tamlin, was pretty decent in book 1, was made violently unlikeable in book 2 onwards

Chaol, very strong morals, generally a good person, loves his wife, made violently unlikeable and boring in late CoM, HoF, and QoS (ToD is one of my favorite books in the series, will praise ToD till the day I die, my boy EARNED his own book)

Aedion, seemed like a good person, strong morals, spent years trading his dignity for the sake of Terrasen, loved his cousin above all else, made violently unlikable in KoA (even tho I think he was justified in being angry about it, i'd be SO pissed)

Sartaq, good guy, strong morals, Nesryn's chapters were some of my favorites in ToD, Sartaq is one of my favorite SJM love interests, i'll never forgive author lady for forgetting about him in KoA (tho i guess she forgot about everyone from ToD? Yrene and Chaol are the only important ones, she barely even mentions Nesryn even though Nesryn's BEEN an integral part of the gang since QoS, giving her the Suki from ATLA treatment)

#acotar #sjm #sarah j maas #throne of glass #tog #anti rhysand #anti rowan #anti cassian #anti nessian #anti feysand #chaol westfall #sartaq #tarquin #tamlin #aedion ashryver #nesta deserves better

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gingerbreadmonsters · 28 days

Text

glass jaw

or: bruised, the apple of my black eye.

graphic blood, violence, and injury warnings, cutesy gory found vampire family shenanigans. i went to the haunted theme park in the middle of the woods at midnight, and all i got was this candy apple of temptation. what's up with that? alexis being the world’s best big sister in just over 8600 words.

warnings for gratuitous blood, violence and gore, graphic descriptions of injury and intent to grievously harm, and, like, one teeny tiny moment of cannibalism. i strongly encourage you to mind the warnings, and to stop reading at ANY point if you feel uncomfortable. reader discretion is advised. minors dni, 18+ only. please consider yourself warned.

longtime readers may be aware of my sinophone!solaires hc, so ENGLISH SPEAKING READERS - for the love of GOD please check this pronunciation guide i made for the mandarin you're about to see. i PROMISE it'll help!! 💕💕💕

There’s blood everywhere.

It’s a shame. The room was quite tidy when they started – ugh, don’t say it’s got onto the upholstery again. Vampiric blood is impossible to get out of silk, and it costs a fortune to get it professionally cleaned. At least the wooden panelling in here is dark enough to hide most of the spatter.

(Thankfully, baba’s off entertaining the little ankle biters at the moment – and something about a meeting with an old friend, later on? He didn’t say when he was coming back, but it can’t be soon. Hopefully they’ll be able to deal with most of the mess before he gets back. Damned old man never wants them to have any fun.)

How long has it been? Seconds? Hours? It’s difficult to tell. She’d only come in here to sit down, feet hurting from her patrol at Wonderworld, wanting to just lie across the sofa and scroll mindlessly on her phone for an hour or two. She'd almost succeeded, too – until the furious pacing from the other side of the house had got closer and closer.

Vincent had spotted her through the doorway, carelessly cracked open, and… well. He must have had a pretty horrible day.

He’d surprised her, hurling the glass of water in his hands at her head with a sudden hiss. She’d only barely caught it in her peripheral vision, jerking back against the sofa just in time to let it whistle past her face and shatter against the far wall.

No words necessary. Vincent had snarled at her, slamming the door shut behind him, and she’d known exactly what he wanted.

It’s a habit of theirs. A bad one, maybe, but knowing it doesn’t make it any easier to break.

Heavy bodies hitting the floor, skin and spit and bone, this time it might be different. Her shin slamming into his ribs, his elbow smashing into her jaw. Blood clots underneath elegantly manicured nails, and the splinters of what used to be a wisdom tooth are spat onto the side table. It’ll grow back.

Gravity. The inescapable pull. Space bends and folds at the mercy of an impossibly strong grip, worlds and stars and planets collide, and the precious children of William Solaire once again destroy each other.

You might think that it’s madness. That it’s like some crazed, bloodthirsty, animal state that descends upon them, that it’s like they’re totally different people. You’d be wrong. Both of them are perfectly, boringly sane when it happens. There’s no madness here, no delusion – just a brother and a sister who hate and hate and hate.

She’s entirely rational when she tries to sever his spinal column with her teeth, he’s not confused about why he’s trying to rip her arm from its socket. It's never an accident. Tearing each other apart comes naturally.

Cruel spikes of broken glass glitter in Vincent's hair, the smashed mirror above the mantelpiece reflecting the thousand shallow cuts that now litter his scalp, leaking bright, scarlet blood down the back of his neck. Her forearm aches from the impact, the force of a vampiric skull smashing through the glass and into the bricks behind having radiating up through her hand, where her fingers were twisted into Vincent's hair – mostly for grip, but also to keep him from biting them off completely.

It hadn't quite worked, but whatever. She glances down at the ragged chunk of her wrist that isn't there any more, shredded fibres hanging loose, and glares at Vincent as he finishes chewing his mouthful of skin and veins and raw, twitching muscle.

He grins, wide and pretty, fangs slick and gums stained with her blood. “New perfume?”

Bastard. Like he didn't steal it off her vanity this morning, like she couldn’t fucking smell it on him when he came downstairs for breakfast.

“Depends,” she replies, and lets the fistful of dark, meticulously-conditioned and carefully-styled hair still in her hand fall to the floor. “New haircut?”

Vincent's eyes narrow, black and predatory, and, as always, she feels her mouth start to water. He's imagining what it’ll feel like to kick her through the picture window and watch her impact the paved surface of the driveway below, and she's imagining what it'll be like to dig her fingernails inside his stomach and claw out all of the softness she can find.

It’s so easy to get lost in it, the cleansing rage. Nothing but fury, white-hot and shameful as it roars alive under her skin, until she's scraped raw inside and out. The same manic look paints itself across their faces, the same sadistic glee that only comes with doing something you know you shouldn’t.

Well, they're both just as bad as each other. Perhaps it runs in the family.

She lunges, teeth bared, grabbing his shirt to try and slam him back into the brickwork – but like lightning, he lurches to the side and uses her momentum to grab her waist and hurl her bodily into the wall. Wood splinters and flecks of glass go flying as they claw at each other, blood spatter dripping down the window panes and soaking into the finely-patterned carpet.

Her ears ring when Vincent seizes the back of her head and slams her face-first into the doorframe, but she gets her own back as her broken nose puts itself back together, watching the side of Vincent’s chest collapse when she clubs him hard in the side with a metal candelabra. Sweet revenge.

Gasping for breath, he dodges out of the way of her fist and grabs her arm, pulling her painfully into the front of the heavy, wooden console table. She manages to catch his ankle with her foot as she goes, though, hooking it out from under him and shoving him down to the floor. His other hand is still locked around her wrist, so he yanks on her arm to twist himself around, landing heavily on his back instead of his front.

Luckily, she manages to keep her balance, but he can see it coming now – instead of the satisfying crunch she was hoping for, he barely manages to jerk his head out of the way so the sole of her slipper impacts the carpet instead of his eye socket. It sends a spike of pain up her shin, but she ignores it in favour of shielding her head, so the impact of him kicking her backwards into the bookcases doesn't stun her too much.

It’s kind of hilarious, when you think about it. Other families don’t cause thousands of dollars of property damage trying to violently maim and murder each other when they get bored, do they?

In hindsight, it seems almost inevitable they’d turn out like this. For a long time after Vincent’s turning, they’d fought almost constantly, and nobody had ever been able to quite understand why.

It used to be unbearable, having them in the same room together. Bitter glares and cutting remarks, sniping and biting at each other from across the table. Ba always complained about how they gave him headaches – the static whine of furious, mutual hatred, the pressure of all that blinding intensity in one place, with nowhere else to go but him.

He never took sides, and it stung every time. In her head, she knows he was right to. There aren’t the words to describe how much worse that would have made it. But deep inside, she couldn’t help the sick, dizzy feeling of her Maker abandoning her, leaving her – a necessary, instinctive fear of being cast out from the safety of his world and the shelter of his presence.

She’s his blood, she’s his, she’s his. They’re a family.

You can’t say that either of the two of them is entirely innocent. Alexis knows that there are parts of her that Vincent’s right to hate, and there are parts of him that she’s right to hate, too. They’ve both done terrible, awful things, too many to name, to other people and each other alike. Anyone else would say that one is just as awful as the other, and that with the way they’re carrying on, neither of them is making it any better whatsoever.

A boring answer, in short.

Because it’s not actually about that, is it? There’s something else too, something too tender and complicated for them to ever really unravel, the sugary decay of undeath that turns their spit to venom and their hunger to thirst. Vincent’s all the things she left behind, and she’s all the things he never had, and it’s all bundled up with the howling wasteland of the world that neither of them should ever have left.

Everyone regrets their Turning, whether they say so or not. Some regret it more than others, it’s true, but nobody gets away unscathed. The only reason it’s ever been a problem is because the House of Solaire tend to take their regrets out on each other.

(She rakes her nails across Vincent’s pretty face, deep, intentional gouges that would surely scar if he couldn’t sew himself back together so fast. He drives his foot into her knee in return, forcing the joint to fold in on itself the wrong way, and the world goes white with agony for the split second before it begins to heal.)

Sometimes, people wonder how they fixed it. How they get along so much better now, like a real brother and sister should. They never actually ask, and nobody will ever tell, but she isn’t stupid enough not to know what they’re thinking.

It shouldn’t be real. They bicker and pinch and steal each other’s clothes – she takes his keys from the drawer and drives his car instead of hers because it’s nicer, and she deliberately won’t leave him any money for petrol. He plays his music far too loudly in the room next door when he knows she’s got work to do, and eats her snacks out of the fridge without remorse, even if they’re labelled. Annoying, yes, but hardly the curse-yelling, death-threatening carnage their house used to be.

In fact, you could almost say they’re too well-behaved. They stay up late together in the living room, surrounded by every phone and laptop and tablet they can find, refreshing and refreshing the stupid ticket lottery website for the concert Vincent wants to go to of the band that she hates. They wear as many layers as they can stand and bring those UV umbrellas that block out the sunlight, so they can go out in the daytime and queue up for that pop-up event downtown that she’s been dying to go to.

Even the endless, complicated trappings of polite vampiric society are standard fare for them now. Vincent doesn’t complain when he has to stand by her vanity for twenty minutes passing her hairpin after hairpin, and Alexis waits by the front door to do his tie for him, because she’s better at doing the complicated knots that go in and out of fashion. They dress up nicely for every society ball, kissing each other on the cheek and fetching each other drinks and dancing the volta just like everybody else.

She lends him whatever jewellery he wants out of her jewellery box because it’s prettier than his. He pesters their father into letting them go to Disneyland in the evening when it’s dark and they won’t get sunburnt, three days in a row when they should be working because it’s her birthday and she wants to take pictures in front of the castle and eat the special coloured candyfloss they always have at this time of year. They proofread each other’s work documents and curl up under the same blanket on the sofa and leave their shoes next to each other by the door every day.

Shiny, red, and utterly forbidden – a devil’s deal is a wonderful thing. The apple seed of temptation took root in her sour, bloated stomach, and a shallow grave blossomed into a beautiful family tree.

It makes baba so happy that they get along now, and that makes them happy too. They’re never going to tell anyone how they do it. Isn’t there some saying about magic and secrets?

(Her arm isn’t quite back in its socket yet, shoulder screaming in pain, but it won’t stop her trying to choke Vincent unconscious against the bookcase. He spits a warm mouthful of blood and venom into her face in thanks, and knees her hard in the stomach.)

Vampiric houses are famously secretive, especially the older ones. It pretty much comes with the territory – the diet alone tends to be rather off-putting for outsiders, to say nothing of the other… well, the other habits that vampirism bestows. Generally, vampires prefer to keep the company of their own kind, and the intrinsic bond between maker and progeny is a rather powerful reason to stay.

Clans have always been compared to families in that way, and the House of Solaire takes it very seriously indeed. More so than most, although it’s not an uncommon thing. Turnings tend to isolate a person from their human friends and family. It would be remiss of their new clan, surely, not to step in and fill that void however they can?

As different as some things are, there’s no escaping human nature. If William’s taught them anything about surviving in this world, about protecting their family, it’s that nothing is off-limits. Whatever is necessary, they do without question. Knowledge, money, sex, power. Blood is blood, always. How else would the Solaire name have prospered for so long? How else will it continue?

Perhaps it’s cliche, but it’s true. Old blood means old money, and it doesn’t get much older than vampiric blood. Her world is a world of private invitations, expensive dresses, and strategic gossip – whatever you could imagine about the secretive lives of a shadowy vampiric aristocracy, it’s probably true. Champagne was made to be whispered over, after all. Long lives mean plenty of time to develop some rather particular tastes, and an instinctive thirst for blood does lend itself well to a certain nonchalance about the insides of a human body.

She’d been surprised at first, an uncomfortable revulsion that she’d had to unlearn, but she’d got used to it eventually. Vincent had too, and although it took him a little longer, he’s almost as good at playing this game as she is. Say what you will about the House of Solaire, but they are very, very good at what they do.

Nothing breeds rumours like success, and William Solaire is truly blessed. A golden name, a golden fortune, and two golden children to match.

There were always going to be rumours, certainly. Of what they might be doing behind closed doors, their ambitions for the future of their house, the secrets that lie at the heart of it. Of fresh scars in strange places, the truth of their allegiance to their father, of brothers and sisters doing things that brothers and sisters shouldn’t be doing.

You couldn’t prove any of it, obviously, and nobody ever says the words out loud. But she hears them all the same, ringing in her ears as she kisses her father on the cheek at breakfast, filling up her mind as she steals Vincent’s jacket out of his room to go shopping, and she smiles wider than ever before – because if they really knew what was happening behind the gates of Wonderworld, they’d have much more to talk about than wondering what William could possibly be holding over their heads to make them finally behave.

(In all honesty, it’s somehow more and less than you’d think. That’s not the point she’s trying to make right now, but it’s worth saying, all the same.)

They’re never, ever going to let it slip. Nobody’s ever going to know about the way she forces her brother back down onto the floor, driving her elbow into his face, feeling cartilage crack and splinter as he falls backwards in a spray of blood. He tries to scramble away, one hand reflexively covering his face, but he’s too slow - her foot comes down hard on his shin, and the scream he lets out isn’t quite loud enough to cover the sound of bone shattering under her slipper.

Vincent tries to drag himself away, fingernails tearing at the carpet, and she plants her foot on his chest to keep him in place. The break in his nose is almost fixed, crimson blood splattered all over his face, but it seems like his attention has… shifted.

That can’t be right.

He’s not that stupid, surely. What else could he be thinking of, when she could so easily crush his heart in a split second? He’s focusing on something else, but it doesn’t seem to be her – is it behind her? Is there something she can’t see? Why isn’t he paying attention?

And then, for some unknowable reason, apropos of apparently nothing… he smiles.

“What?” she spits, pressing down harder and feeling his ribs creak under the ball of her foot. “What is it?”

Infuriatingly, he chokes on a laugh, thick blood bubbling in his throat as it heals, and gestures weakly up at the wall behind her. His eyes are fixed on something there too – no, not the wall, it’s the—

“You little – fucking hell!”

She barely manages to dodge the chandelier as it comes crashing down on her head, feeling the room spin as Vincent yanks on the ceiling chain hard with a burst of psychokinesis. He manages to throw himself in the opposite direction, hand shielding his eyes as the metal hits the floor and the room fills with the deafening sound of shattering crystal.

Both of them hiss as they’re pelted with broken crystal, slicing tiny, stinging ribbons into their skin that seal up almost as soon as they appear. Shit, that hurts.

“Zhidi!”

She glares at her stupid little brother, half-crouched behind the arm of the sofa. “You’re fucking fixing that.”

“Why?” he snickers, pretending to pout, and she’s so tempted to just drag him out into the hallway by the hair and sling him down the stairs before he can finish the thought. “You’re so much better at magic than me, lili…”

“Yeah,” she grumbles, crossing her arms in the face of his unapologetic grin, “which means you need the practice more.”

Vincent groans, downcast. “But he’ll be so mad if I do it wrong!”

He huffs when she just sticks her tongue out at him in return, tossing his head to get his hair out of his eyes. “Can’t you just do half, and I’ll copy?”

Narrowing her eyes, she shakes the debris from her slippers and picks her way over to the window. It takes some concentration, but she runs a hand over the splintered mess of the frame, watching as it sews itself back together. “This is my half.”

“But it’s so hard!” he whines, little brat that he is, and she hates how the obvious manipulation still tugs at her heartstrings. He’s sitting cross-legged in front of the sofa now, hands extended over the sparkling rubble of the chandelier. “You make it look so easy, jiejie…”

Alexis sighs, and begrudgingly reaches down to ruffle his hair. Tiny flakes of mirrored glass fall onto the carpet around him as she does it, slicing little papercuts into the tips of her fingers.

“You do all the light fixtures and the mirror, and I’ll do the rest.”

He looks up at her, suspicious. “Half the mirror.”

“Two thirds.”

“Three fifths.”

“Two thirds, and I don’t tell ba you dropped the chandelier.”

“Deal,” he graciously concedes, and they pinkie promise.

She rolls her eyes and pretends she can’t see him grin, knowing full well she’s being far too soft on him. “If he blames it on me, I swear I’ll key your goddamn Volante and make you watch.”

“What? No!” Vincent gasps, looking betrayed. “Don’t you know how much that cost?”

“Yeah, I do,” she says sweetly, “which is why you’re not going to fuck it up, are you?”

He mutters something unflattering in French under his breath, and she snaps her fingers accusingly in his direction. “What was that, didi?”

“Nothing.”

She smiles winningly, before waving her hand and dragging all the books up off the floor and back into the bookcase. “That’s what I thought.”

They clean up in silence for a little while, their earlier animosity dissolving unnoticed into dust. It’s slow going – neither of them are especially gifted with magic, or have very much of it at their disposal, so they have to keep stopping every few minutes or so to recover.

Before long, they’re both out of breath and exhausted, smashed crystal still crunching beneath their feet and coughing up white plumes of plaster dust.

“When’s he even coming back, anyway?” Vincent asks, peering at the tall jade vase he’s trying to coax back together. “Tonight?”

She nods over her shoulder, trying to stitch the long gash in the sofa cushion closed and failing miserably at getting the complicated pattern to match up again. “He didn’t say when, but it can’t b—”

“Fuck.”

Vincent cuts her off, staring down at his phone as it buzzes, before looking up at her with a grimace and turning the screen to face her.

I’ll be home in ten minutes. I’m sure nothing will be broken or out of place when I get back.

Of course he’s coming home earlier than they thought. Of course. Why wouldn’t he?

“What should we do?”

Christ, he’ll be furious once he sees what they’ve done to this room. If they really, really hurry, they might be able to get away with at least a little bit of it, right?

With a huff of exertion, magic builds beneath her palms, and all the fragments of mirrored glass scattered across the room start to shiver as she prepares to sew them all back together. The mantelpiece needs to be fixed, and there’s a whole section of the doorframe that’s almost totally gone, and she doesn’t even want to think about the horrible, gaping wounds in the wooden panelling that need to be repaired and relacquered…

“Come here,” she mutters to Vincent, beckoning him over to her and pressing her palms flat to his chest. He closes his eyes and nods, resting the tips of his fingers at her temples, and they slowly, carefully, start to reach out to each other.

Her threads brush clumsily against his, once then twice then three times, the connection weak and fluttering as they try to concentrate. She stretches as far as she can, searching for that familiar feeling, anticipating the sickening lurch in her stomach that she knows is surely going to come any second, the momentary freefall as her core latches on to his.

When it happens, it takes her by surprise – her knees buckle for just a moment, and she sways slightly from side to side. Vincent rests his forehead against hers to try and keep upright, and she feels his wordless reassurance through the fledgling bond.

How does he do it? Vincent’s only a few inches taller than her, even less so when she’s in heels, and yet he always seems to tower over her – the looming shadow in the corner of her eye, the impossible weight of his gaze on her through the crowd.

The perfect height for dancing, their father had said, laughing gently as they stumbled through a clumsy waltz around the living room. She’d stepped on Vincent’s toes almost as many times as he’d tripped over the hem of her long dress, a poor stand-in for the real one she’d be wearing at the summer ball in a few months’ time. Elbows up, xiaozhi. They will not be so forgiving in Marseille as I am, you know.

Magic pools beneath her skin as she siphons it greedily through the bond, flooding her core with Vincent’s stolen power, and she luxuriates in the sensation for a long, languid moment. Then, she grits her teeth, and focuses.

With the extra rush of his magic, it’s almost laughable how fast she manages to race through most of the remaining cleanup – the blood dripping down the windowpane vanishes, the claw marks in the carpet disappear, and even the mirror above the mantelpiece clicks neatly back together as if it were never broken. The slashes across the back of Vincent’s shirt close up, and all the little chunks of bloody cartilage stuck in her hair vanish without a trace.

Her brother staggers in her arms as she keeps pulling on their bond, and she manages to ease them both down onto the sofa without too much fuss, still trying to get as much of the chandelier fixed as she can. About half of the crystal is back in place, but the chain just won’t – she can’t quite—

“Enough!”

Vincent breaks away from her with a sharp, sudden breath, slumping backwards onto the newly-repaired cushions and clutching weakly at his skull. “Too much, lijie, too much…”

He gestures vaguely towards the door with one hand in what she thinks might be thirst, and she runs out into the hallway and downstairs to the kitchen as fast as she can to get some blood out of the fridge. There’s already a glass on the counter that he must have got out earlier, so she fills it up with the half-empty bottle of O positive.

Sharing their magic always does this, but once he gets enough blood in him, he should be fine in about twenty minutes or so. It’s a lot like bridging, that way. Their cores will be synchronised for a little while, and they’ll be more keenly aware of each other’s magic, but that doesn’t really mean much when their senses are already so sharp.

A vampire’s core isn’t magically rich enough to do a huge amount all at once, so sharing magic like this is generally their best bet for doing things quickly. It lets them make the most of their limited reserves – rather than working individually, one of them can keep feeding the other magic as they concentrate on the whole picture.

Her steps are quiet but urgent as she runs back upstairs with the blood, slippered feet sliding a little on the kitchen tile. How much longer have they got until ba gets back, again?

When she pushes the door open, Vincent hasn’t moved, still sprawled across the sofa with a hand pressed over his eyes. Gently, she folds the fingers of his other hand around the glass, and he mumbles out a slurred thanks as he gulps the whole thing down in almost one swallow.

She’s just about to try the chandelier again, threads uncomfortably sore and stretched, when there’s a sudden sound from downstairs. The faintest jangling of keys, the scrape of tiny metal pins in the cylinder as the lock turns, and all of a sudden—

“Hui jia le.”

Downstairs in the foyer, he doesn’t have to shout. He already knows they can hear him.

Vincent curses silently, staggering up off the sofa and disappearing off to his room as she flings whatever magic she can at the chandelier chain. If she can just get it to stay together until he goes out again, they can probably recover enough magic between them to be able to fix it properly, right?

“Lili?” Ba’s voice is soft yet confused, the quiet sounds of him taking his shoes off and hanging up his overcoat, wondering why they’re not saying anything. “Xiaozhi, where are you?”

The question is entirely redundant – they all know that he can feel exactly where in the house they are. Vincent isn’t saying anything, so should she keep quiet as well…?

No, it’ll be too suspicious if neither of them goes and sees him, so she throws one last worried glance at the chandelier and hurries out of the room. When she gets to the top of the stairs, he’s just putting his slippers on, and she does her best to keep her heart slow and her smile easy when he looks up and notices her.

“There you are,” murmurs baba, and holds out his arms for her.

Is it embarrassing, how quickly she scrambles down the stairs and throws herself at him? He laughs, strong hands catching her waist and lifting her clear off the floor in a brief, joyful circle. “Ah, I have missed you, chérie.”

“Missed you too,” she says into his shirt, curling happily into his chest as he wraps his arms around her, fondly kissing the top of her head. The Maker’s bond between them sings at their closeness, warm and comforting as it bubbles in her chest, and she feels him smile even though she can’t see it.

“Vincent is upstairs?”

“He, um…”

The words freeze on her tongue as she tries to figure out a half-truth that she’ll actually be able to say – she can’t lie outright, but she can say something that’s technically true, even if it’s not the whole story.

“Headache,” she mumbles noncommittally, and crosses her fingers that he won’t push it.

Ba hums quietly in acknowledgement, seemingly in acceptance. “I see. Was the patrol alright?”

He smooths his hand over her back in wide, slow circles, just the right amount of pressure. “No trouble, I hope.”

She shakes her head, and tries her best to relax. “Just some unempowered kids, looking for somewhere to have a bonfire. It was easy.”

There’d been about six or seven of them piled into some beaten-up old thing, driving down the abandoned road that leads to the gates of Wonderworld, clearly not sure where they were going. Even if she hadn’t spotted the dim headlights through the trees, or heard that god-awful music from the speakers inside, she probably could have smelt them coming – whatever they were drinking, it seemed less like moonshine and more like rubbing alcohol. If they go blind, it’s not her fault.

They’d stopped just before the gates, about to get out when she’d suddenly appeared by the driver’s-side window. He’d been surprised to see her, tapping at the glass until he rolled it down, and she’d taken the opportunity to have a little fun with it before she’d have to trance them.

Mm, you boys are out late, she’d drawled, leaning forwards and resting her arms along the edge of the window. Can I… help you, with anything?

She’s not stupid – she knows exactly what she looks like, and she knows exactly what to do with it. There’s always college students from the nearby towns sneaking into the woods at night, and they fall for it every single time.

Ah, it really had been cute. She’d had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the way all of their eyes suddenly couldn’t stay on her face, conspicuously flicking back up to her eyes whenever she moved.

Just, uh…

The one driving had really, really tried, shifting awkwardly in his seat as she tilted her head to look down at him. Just lookin’ around, ma’am, nothin’ serious…

Nothing serious? She’d smirked at that, careful not to let them see the sharp tips of her fangs as she reached out to gently brush a stray lock of blonde hair out of his face. Honey, you’ll break my heart, with talk like that.

His friend in the passenger seat still hadn’t stopped staring, slack-jawed, and she’d pushed herself up on her tiptoes to stretch her arm out towards him, pressing the tip of her fingernail under his chin to snap his mouth shut. Oh, it was like something out of a movie! She’d always wanted to do that in real life.

I can think of somewhere you’ll like.

Foolishly, they’d all been very liberal with their eye contact – trancing them had been as easy as anything.

As soon as I stop talking, you’re going to turn this car around and drive all the way back to the freeway, and you’re going to drive all the way to the next city before looking for somewhere to have your little party. You won’t remember this conversation at all, you won’t remember ever meeting anyone here, and you won’t remember anything about me.

She’d smiled nice and wide, scarlet eyes burning into each of them in turn, listening to their terrified hearts race at the monstrous sight of her. Isn’t that right, hm?

They’d nodded in unison, the driver’s hands already back to the wheel, and she’d blown them a kiss as they drove away and disappeared back into the trees. Ah, humans.

“Well, that’s good.”

Ba’s voice shakes her from the memory, slowly guiding her away from the door and towards the kitchen. “That reminds me – you should have heard the little ones tonight, my goodness…”

“Really?” She’s curious, not having met them before. “What did they say?”

Deft fingers pull the carafe of A positive out of the fridge door, and he blinks down at the bare countertop for a second before reaching up and taking a glass out of the cupboard.

“The Aguilars are… they are unchanged, shall we say.”

It makes sense. He’d been over at the Aguilar estate tonight to meet their new blood informally, before the Summit in a few months’ time when they’ll be properly introduced. The family is always very friendly, and she gets on very well with the aunties there.

Poor Vincent doesn’t like them as much as she does, but that’s mostly to do with that god-awful girl – a cousin from one of the branching bloodlines, she’s fairly sure – who’s had a crush on him ever since he was Turned, and who follows him around incessantly whenever they’re at the same parties. It’s hilarious to watch him try to shake her off, and the look of relief on his face when she finally steps in and makes up some lie about how he promised to dance with her is well worth the hour of complaining he’ll do later in the car on the way home.

The only thing is that it’s a big family. Much bigger than theirs, and it can be rather overwhelming when it gets loud. Obviously, ba doesn’t like to say anything about it, but she can feel his headaches building in the back of her own skull – his stronger senses mean he’s a lot more sensitive to the noise than she and Vincent are.

Still, they’re far more pleasant company than the House of Bennett. The only one who can make that family bearable to be around is cousin Porter, and that’s only because he likes to add a little of his own blood to the drinks so that they actually feel like they’re alcoholic.

She nods, leaning back against the sink. “Chatty, I take it.”

“Little… ah, what is it?” Sipping his glass of blood as he leans against the kitchen table, he gestures vaguely in the air with one hand. “Little pitchers that have big ears.”

It really shouldn’t be a surprise. Big houses mean more gossip, and freshly Turned vampires do love to put their shiny new senses to use.

She shrugs. “As long as they’re not spilling state secrets yet, it’ll be fine.”

“If the state tells its secrets to the House of Aguilar, we are already doomed, mon ange.”

They both laugh, washed in the pale light streaming through the windows, and baba closes his eyes as he reaches up to gently pull the fa zan from his hair.

He likes to tie it back when he goes out, partly to stop the wind from tangling it, and partly because it’s the way he says gentlemen used to be when he was young. Over the years, he’s amassed an almost staggering collection of little clips and ribbons and pins – a not insignificant number as gifts from her and Vincent – that he likes, but he generally just wears it down when he’s at home and there aren’t guests.

The moonlight turns the edges of his black hair to silver as he shakes his head with a relieved sigh, running his fingers through it quickly to smooth it out before flicking it back behind him. He likes to keep it long, at least several inches below his shoulder, and she’s always been so jealous of how he seems to make every hairstyle he tries seem so effortlessly elegant.

“Still,” he continues with a wicked smile, “you will see for yourself when we see them next. I think they will have many things to discuss with you, perhaps.”

He tips his head languidly to the side as he pushes his phone across the table, the screen lit up with a photo of Vincent from last summer. If she remembers correctly, it’s from when they were taking a break at the summer house down by the coast – he’s shirtless, knee deep in the water, turning back to the camera with a rakish grin, dark hair already wet from the splash fight they’d been having and fangs glittering in the moonlight from above.

In short, he looks painfully, achingly handsome. Scandalised, she smacks her father in the shoulder and gasps theatrically, like she can’t believe what he’s done.

“You didn’t!”

“I certainly did.”

“He’ll die!” she whisper-shouts, trying desperately not to laugh too hard. “He’s already having trouble outrunning marriage proposals from one of them, and you’re setting the new blood on him too?”

Ba just shakes his head, imperious, looking down his nose at her like he’s imparting some grave wisdom. “They asked to see a picture of my progenies.”

“So it had to be that picture?”

“I showed your picture as well.”

Resigned, she buries her face in her hands. “I dread to think.”

“Oh, you are so dramatic, chérie,” he laments, and he even has the gall to click his tongue in faux-disapproval when she narrows her eyes at him. “See? The picture is nice!”

It takes him a second to find it, but it’s just as bad as she feared – it’s from the same holiday as Vincent’s photo, probably taken later that night. She’s wearing that nice floaty sundress she bought in Singapore, barefoot in the sand as she blows a kiss to the camera, lips still stained with blood from whatever scarlet cocktail she’s holding in her other hand.

This was exactly his plan, in other words, and she’s going to fucking murder him in his sleep. If any of those upstart little ankle biters tries to chat her up, it won’t be pretty – the last one got a cake fork stabbed straight through his hand and several inches into the table beneath it, and the one before that still visibly trembles at the sound of her stilettos clicking softly against the floor.

“If I kill an Aguilar new blood at the summer ball, it’s your fault,” she mutters threateningly, hissing and baring her fangs at him when he reaches out to take her face in his hands and draw her closer. “I mean it!”

“Of course you do, xiao gong zhu,” he murmurs indulgently, and kisses her forehead. “You are telling me, so it must be true.”

Upstairs, the sound of floorboards creaking, fabric rustling. Vincent.

“I meant what I said, by the way,” ba adds nonchalantly, “about broken things.”

Shit. She blinks, innocent as anything as she beats back the guilty urge inside her that yearns to spill the truth. “What’s broken?”

“Lili.”

He raises an eyebrow, discreetly tapping the shell of his ear, and she strains to figure out what he’s hearing. “I am old, baobei. Not stupid.”

If she listens, really listens, she can just about make something out. Another noise, something much quieter – a sort of stiff, metallic creaking from upstairs, on the other side of the house to Vincent’s bedroom…

Her smile wavers as ba swans serenely past her, disappearing out into the hallway, deft fingers picking up his fa zan from the table as he goes past. “It is nothing, surely. Perhaps you will bring Vincent something for his head while I am changing?”

God fucking damn it – she might be able to fix the chandelier without him noticing, but what are the odds? He’s meeting that friend tonight, and if he’s going to change now then it probably won't be long until he goes out, but there’s no way of knowing if it’ll hold until then.

Scowling, she pours another glass of blood for Vincent, and one more for herself, before reluctantly trudging upstairs.

It's a fact of life, or at least a fact of vampirism: you can’t really have any secrets from your Maker, and that’s even without the whole truth-compulsion thing. No matter what you do, your Maker is always aware of what you’re feeling, when you’re feeling it.

The emotional bond never goes away, though the strength of its effects ebbs and flows. Sometimes it’s so faint as to be almost nonexistent, a tiny shiver down the spine – and sometimes it’s almost overwhelming in its intensity, foreign emotions bursting out of nowhere like fireworks, blindingly bright and terrifyingly loud.

For young vampires, it’s a lot to get used to. Some take years to become accustomed to the bond, while others are oddly comforted by it. New Makers are often surprised by the strength of as well – it goes both ways, but generally the Maker feels more of their progeny’s emotions than the other way around. Nobody's really sure why.

More complicated feelings don’t come through especially clearly, apparently a little bit difficult for the bond to transmit, or perhaps for the other body to decipher. But simpler, more basic emotions are very, very easy. You might even say they’re too easy, in fact. Things like fear, sadness, joy – and, well…

He must already know what they’ve been up to. That sort of anger, the instinctive viciousness that comes so easily to them. They all know from experience how quickly that can wash over the bond, twisting and curling as it spreads like dark ink through water. After a while, it stops being so intrusive – it’s just how it works, and it’s not as though they can stop it. It’s possible to tune it out, and before long it generally goes away.

But a Maker with two progenies, both of whom are busy winding each other up at the same time? Who never seem to know when to quit, chasing that addictive, acidic feedback loop of rage that only ever seems to push them higher?

Ba doesn’t mind what they get up to, per se, as long as they keep it discreet and clean up after themselves. But even so, it’s not difficult to see how it could be… distracting.

He definitely knows what they were doing, is the point. And he clearly knows that there’s something they broke that she hasn’t been able to fix yet. She just needs to make sure it’s all neat and tidy by the time he gets back later, and hopefully they can all pretend that it never happened.

“What.”

Vincent glares at her from under his duvet when she pushes the door open with her foot, crimson eyes staring out from the blackness as she gets closer and closer. The lights are off and the blackout curtains are closed, so it’s almost entirely dark, but she can make out the shape of the bed well enough.

“Blood.”

She holds out one of the glasses, not breaking eye contact until a single hand slithers out from under the duvet and takes it from her.

He doesn’t seem to have thought about how he’s going to drink it, lying flat on his stomach and sprawled sideways across the bed, and she snickers under her breath as he blinks stupidly at the glass. With a flourish, she takes the second straw out of her own glass and drops it into his, sticking her tongue out gleefully at him when he mumbles something unintelligible into the mattress beneath him.

She shrugs – it’s close enough. “You’re welcome.”

Perching herself on the edge of the bed, she watches in amusement as he drags himself forwards under the duvet so he can get the straw in his mouth without having to lift his head, occasionally poking the mound of blankets that claims to be her brother in the side to see if he can feel it or not.

(He can. She knows. It’s just funny.)

Because she’s very generous, she gets up to grab a few of the books off his desk, stacking them up by the side of the bed, level with where his face is. He complains when she takes the glass back out of his hand, but acquiesces as soon as she puts it back down on the books, army crawling towards the end of the straw that’s now level with the top of the mattress and haughtily sticking it in his mouth.

“Better?”

The Vincent-shaped duvet creature next to her slurps loudly at his glass of blood, and doesn’t say anything.

She’d use telepathy, but she needs to save all the magic she can get. Quickly, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, turning the brightness down all the way and typing a message in her notes app to show him.

He knows something’s broken, and the chandelier chain isn’t going to last long if I don’t go and fix it. Do you have enough magic to help yet?

“No,” Vincent grumbles, and coughs pointedly.

Great. How much longer?

He coughs again, baleful red eyes turning to look witheringly up at her from his blanket nest, and she doesn’t have to be able to see his hands to know the gesture he’s making at her.

Fine, she types, as sarcastically as it’s possible to be when you can’t say anything out loud, but if he hears, I’m blaming you. Distract him.

Obediently, he starts moving around again, making sure the sound of mattress springs and sheets rustling is loud enough for her to slip out of the door and towards the drawing room they ruined earlier. Luckily, it’s in the opposite direction to baba’s room, but she still holds her breath and tiptoes as quietly as she can in case he—

“Lili?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

She whips around, totally innocently, to see her father beckoning her down the stairs as several sets of cufflinks rattle in his palm. “Come and help me choose.”

Helpless to protest, she’s forced to follow him down into the foyer, umming and ahhing over which cufflinks she thinks will suit his outfit the best. In her head, though, she can’t stop worrying about that damned chandelier, the creaking sound from upstairs that she’s sure is getting louder, the increasing amount of magic she’ll need to fix it as it surely gets worse and worse…

“A good choice as always, mon ange.”

She startles slightly as baba nods approvingly, smoothly taking the silver pair she’d mindlessly chosen and putting them on, before leaving the rest in the dish on the low console table. “I won’t be back until the morning, so you will look after Vincent, won’t you?”

Hastily, she nods. “Yeah, I will, I will.”

“Alright.” He rests his hands gently on her upper arms as he kisses both her cheeks, before taking his car keys out of his pocket and heading out of the front door. “See you later, chérie. I love you very much.”

“Love you too!”

She waits the agonisingly long half-second it takes for the door to close behind him before racing back upstairs, and she hears Vincent, still clutching his half-empty glass, scrambling out of his room at the same time. They nearly crash face-first into each other in their haste, yanking the drawing room door open and tumbling through it as fast as they can.

“I thought your head still hurt?” she says quizzically to Vincent, watching his hands trembling faintly around his glass, but he just makes a face.

“The alternative’s worse,” he replies, and she nods. He’s right.

She reaches for her core, willing the magic to come – it’s slow and it’s weak, but she yanks on her threads as hard as she can to try and summon it to her fingertips. The chandelier sways ominously above them as she screws her eyes shut to concentrate, and she can feel Vincent’s aura flicker next to her as he does the same thing. Come on, come on…

She’s nearly there, power surging under her skin and ready to be channelled outwards, when there’s a sudden—

“Shit!”

The magic fizzles uselessly away as her eyes fly open to see Vincent, clutching his head in pain, cursing as the front of his shirt is drenched in blood. There’s shattered glass all over the floor from where he’s dropped his drink, and she chokes down the irritated vampiric growl that rises in her throat. “Fucking hell, xiaodi!”

“I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it!” he moans, slightly unsteady on his feet, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “Look, at least it’s not the—”

Something moves, just at the very edge of her vision.

Above her head, the room plunges into blackout as something snaps.

“Move–!!”

She barely manages to shove Vincent away from her before the heavy metal body of the chandelier comes crashing down on her head. It’s not heavy enough to knock her out, but the surprise is enough that all she can do is stand there as 15 kilos of brass and crystal and electrics falls directly on top of her and shatters.

He skitters backwards, recoiling from the spray of tiny crystal shards that covers the floor for the second time today, nearly tripping over the leg of the side table as he goes. A thousand stinging papercuts split their skin, sealing themselves up and leaving tiny droplets of crimson blood dripping down their arms and faces.

Without even noticing, she instinctively catches one of the twisted metal arms of the chandelier that must have been sheared off when it impacted her skull, raw edge snagged painfully in her hair as it slides neatly down into her arms.

They’re so fucked.

They both freeze guiltily as a floorboard creaks outside in the hallway, far too close to be a coincidence, and she winces as there’s a polite knock, knock, knock at the door.

“We—” She chokes, breathing in a hacking lungful of debris, voice cracking slightly from her dry throat. “We’re in so much trouble.”

Vincent stares wide-eyed at her through the sudden dark, blood dripping slowly from his chin and soaking into the carpet..

“Yeah,” he mumbles distantly, “probably.”

The drawing room door swings open, and both their heads snap towards the open doorway so fast it would give a human whiplash. There, silhouetted against the light, car keys still jangling in his palm and running an exasperated hand through his long hair—

“What,” hisses William Solaire, raising an irate eyebrow at his children, covered in glittering crystal dust and leaking blood into a very expensive carpet, “did I say about breaking things again?”

The clan always sticks together. Family comes first – nothing and nobody could make them betray each other, and they’d rather die than leave one of their own behind. It’s the central tenet of their existence, the core fact of their messy, gory lives.

Some things are just… true. The earth is round, the sky is blue, and there is no power known to men or gods that could turn the House of Solaire against itself.

Baba shifts his weight slightly, eyes narrowing accusingly.

And very, very slowly, Alexis and Vincent both point at each other.

link to the glass jaw pronunciation guide

main masterlist

this is an original fanwork by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted vincent #redacted william #redacted alexis #redacted solaire clan #redacted porter #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 11

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: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 13.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* So much cursing because Sophia is a menace, but Jack is even more of a menace because he goes commando. Oral sex (f and m receiving), outdoor sex, public sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, cream pie, cum play. Unaltered and pure as fuck fluff. Summary: A girls’ night out with Sophia and Gabi collides with guys’ night out for Jack with Tequila, Ginger, and Rye and results in shameless shenanigans. Followed by the big opening night for The Rabbit-Hole that you’ve has been working toward for months! Notes: Of course I cried writing and editing this chapter. Don’t look at me like that.

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

In the week since Tex and Sophia arrived in Louisville, it's been nearly impossible not to spend time with them. Jack and Tex might not be trolling for women together anymore but they're still causing mischief on the campus, and Sophia has been right along with them at each turn. They pop by the restaurant for lunch or just to say hi, they come by for dinner from time to time or to invite you and Jack to go out with them for the night. Tonight is a little different, just by virtue of it being a Saturday. Champ and Diana are entertaining a corporate retreat with live music and a specialized tasting, but they hadn't wanted to do food with it so that left you free as a bird. Tex, Jack, and Astrid are at Shootouts with a few of the other agents and you and Sophia have decided have a girl's night out all your own.

“Are you ready?” The door to Jack’s house swings open and Sophia darts inside. In the week since she’s been here, she’s made herself at home and that extends to coming in when you had told her to come over. “Show me the sights? We can take wagers on how long before Whiskey shows up where we are!”

"You think the boys won't be able to stay away?" You snag your jacket from the hook and shrug it over your shoulders before grabbing your purse. "Honestly, you're probably right. Dinner first and then we can bar hop our way around downtown?"

“I have never seen a soulmate who has to be close to their significant other like Jack.” She muses. “Not that it’s a bad thing.” She quickly adds. “It’s sweet.”

"He's protective of me." That, unfortunately, is an understatement, but you steer her toward your car in the driveway without it becoming a point of conversation. "It's different than the way Tex is so proud of you. He knows you can take care of yourself."

“I don’t think Jack believes that you can’t take care of yourself.” Sophia reasons. “But…why don’t I show you a few things?” She offers with a grin. “Kingsman are a bit more…elegant than our counterparts when we fight. Bit of soulmate bootcamp?”

"Now that's a thought." Your little car is a zippy thing, and there's distance between the two of you and the Statesman campus in no time. "I took a self-defense class in college, but that was long enough ago that I've forgotten most of what they taught."

“It’ll be fun.” She immediately bounces slightly in the seat. “Especially when you are snogging and you take Jack by surprise by flipping him on his back.” She giggles. “Ask me how I know.”

"Tex is not an easy man to flip." The both of you know that firsthand, and you have to appreciate that she doesn't seem to mind your history with him in the least. Actually, it seems to amuse her endlessly.

“Quite.” She murmurs with a very self-satisfied grin on her face. “Your Jack seems to be of the same measure.” She predicts. “Which makes it all the more fun.”

"A little surprise for him, like you said." The twist of a smirk on your lips sends you both into a fit of laughter. "Alright. After I get this restaurant open, a little bit of soulmate bootcamp is in order."

“Fantastic!” Sophia cackles and claps her hands together. “You and I are going to have so much fun ganging up on Tex and your Jack.”

"So how are you liking the States so far?" Hopping onto the highway to head into downtown, you glance at her again out of the corner of your eye. "I know the last Kingsman agent that was here had trouble adjusting but you seem to be having a great time."

"Oh, Danny is such cunt." She rolls her eyes and blows out a breath to tell you exactly what she thought of the last Kingsman agent here. "Of course he wouldn't last. He takes the piss too much."

"Okay, not a fan of his, got it." You snort a little, stifling a laugh. "So you're telling me that Kingsman sent him just to be rid of him for a while?"

"Only way I can see it." She snorts. "He drives Galahad mad. Thinks he knows everything and he's been an agent for two seconds."

"Guess it's only fair that Tex got sent as punishment then." It still makes you a little embarrassed, everything that happened a few months ago, but at least no one is hanging on to grudges. "Hopefully this will work out a lot better. You seem to be doing well here and Bobby is such a good kid."

"I have to thank you." Sophia realizes. "If you didn't have the golden pussy to cause Tex to knock Jack on his ass, who knows when we would have met?" She huffs, almost chuckling as she thinks about it. "Could have never met."

"You would have." It's almost daunting to think that you were part of the reason they met, but you swallow thickly when you realize that she's sort of right. In a very weird way. "You would have been transferred here, or him there, eventually."

"Might not." Sophia can't imagine her life without Tex in it and her fingers play with the ring that is on her hand. "Either way, I get to be with my soulmate and become friends with the woman who arranged it all." She reaches over and slaps your thigh playfully. "All comes out in the wash."

"Speaking of arranging." You click off the radio completely, eliminating even the soft background noise as you cruise road the road. "Do you guys have any thoughts about what you want for the wedding yet?"

"Honestly?" Sophia smiles softly, immediately adopting the magical glow of a bride to be. "I would love to do something at Statesman. On the grounds since Tex loves it so much." She had also fallen in love with the country air and the charming, rustic appeal of the distillery.

"Well, we can certainly do that." It was, after all, what you and Diana wanted to do more of in the future. Tex and Sophia would be the prototype, apparently. "I'm sure Champ would give you the run of the grounds. Whatever and wherever you wanted."

Sighing dreamily, she seems to drift off happily on the thought. "What about you? What would you do for your wedding?" She asks, keeping Jack's request in mind.

"I don't really..." A slowly exhaled breath keeps you from sounding like you're trying to ramble out an excuse, but you shrug anyway. "I don't know that Jack is interested in being married again. So I haven't really...I don't think about it." It’s sort of a lie, or at least a lie of omission, considering you do think about it. You just never admit to thinking about it.

"So think about it with me." Sophia twists her in seat and looks at you seriously. "Just because your soulmate may not want to get married again doesn't mean you shouldn't want it. One, you need to talk to him about it. Two, why can't you get what you want? You shouldn't just give him what he wants."

"I haven't thought about it much..." Alright, don’t flat out lie. And it makes you tilt your head slightly when you realize it. "I haven't given it a lot of serious thought, is what I should say. Just little things."

"Like?" Sophia prods. "Come on, give it to me. I might want to steal it." She teases with a wink.

That seems to unlock something in your inhibitions, making you laugh and relax as you drive. It's just girl talk, after all. Jack would never have to know or feel pressured by it. "We had talked...ya know, off and on, about some things. My mother's dress and his family veil. But...you obviously know I have my tearoom and I love that whole vibe. Like a classy little garden party but with party music, if that makes any sense?"

"That would suit you." She smiles, happy that you are starting to think about things like that. "I can see you liking Jack in a tuxedo and his Stetson." She teases playfully.

"He wouldn't even have to wear a tux if he didn't want to." Sure it's traditional, but it's a little much for a garden party, and you just shrug. "Just a gorgeous suit and his Stetson and freshly shined boots. He'd look like a dream." He looks like a dream no matter what, but that image is going to live rent free in your head for a long time.

Sophia snorts and shakes her head. "You're going to jump him tonight, aren't you?" She predicts with a grin. "I can tell from that little smile on your face."

"Oh yeah." You're not even going to deny it or play coy. Why would you? "Doesn't even matter that he woke me up with it this morning. I'm already missing it."

"I'm surprised he didn't get some while he was there for lunch today." Her filthy chuckle is pure sin. "He looked like he was hungry for more than a crawfish salad sandwich."

“You’re such a bad influence.” Regardless, you smirk so hard that you start laughing. “Jack is…well, he’s my soulmate. So it makes sense that he’s everything I’ve wanted in a partner.”

"That's the dream, right?" Sophia hums and her expression turns thoughtful. "I was worried about it. My mum and dad were horrid together. Toxic. But they stuck it out because they were soulmates." She shudders and shakes off the memories to give you an encouraging smile. "I'm glad he's what you want."

“Things can get in the way. Life and stress and illness, or a thousand other things.” Or other people. Like what happened with Tex or even with the Rollins brothers. You’re lucky that you were able it patch things up with him and move forward. “I’m glad you have someone so sweet, then,” you tell her honestly. The exit you want is up ahead and you head for downtown. “Tex is an angel.”

"Sometimes." She grins and squirms in her seat slightly, biting her lip. "Other times...he's the fuckin' devil, ain't he?"

“I can only speak from my very limited experience.” You smirk at her and smother a few dirty giggles. “But yeah. He definitely can be.”

"That's my Tex." She hums and pumps her fist. "If he hadn't taken care of you properly, I would dress him down."

“You can dress him down for any ol’ reason you want.” A smirk and a wink are tossed Sophia’s way as you pull off the highway, and it makes both of you giggle. “He was a perfect gentleman when he should have been, and devilish when the time called for that instead. I have nothing but great things to report about your Tex.”

"If it's weird, just let me know." Sophia knows that she doesn't think like everyone else, some would say that she should be standoffish towards you just because of the weekend date you had with her soulmate. Even though it was before they knew about each other. "I know I can be a lot."

“Honey, no.” Your free hand clasps hers tightly as you drive. “I love that you’re so free and proud and loud about being happy and caring for people. That you’re so easy-going and so enthusiastic. It’s fantastic. And I hate that anyone has ever made you feel that being a lot of so many good things is bad in any way.”

“Alright.” Even though she’s an agent, she’s still a woman with complex emotions and she has come to view you as a friend. She would hate to lose that because of things that were out of her hands. The past cannot be changed. “Anyhow, let’s go critique your competition!” She jokes.

CASK isn’t hard to get to, and the crowd on Saturday nights is almost mixed clientele owing to the great food. The two of you grab a table after only a brief wait and dive right into the heavily Southern menu. Sophia had said she wanted to go someplace authentically American tonight - well this is it.

“What is a…grit fritter?” She asks, looking up at you over the menu, her brows furrowed. “Grit isn’t something you eat.”

“It is in the South.” You flash her a grin to counteract her bewilderment. “It’s cornmeal, basically. A cornmeal…I guess the closest comparison is porridge? It doesn’t sound good when I describe it like that but I promise they’re delicious.”

“Oooookay.” Her skepticism is very obvious on her face, but she’s determined to try quintessential American food, so she will give it a whirl. “What the hell? We eat beans on toast after all.”

“Yes you do.” And even though you love typically British food, that one never quite made sense to you. “Fried green tomatoes are another classic. Those are one of my favourites.”

“Want to share?” Sophia asks, raising a brow at you with a smirk. “Twice the choices.”

“Oh, we’re over ordering and snacking on leftovers tomorrow.” You nod immediately, only pausing when the waitress comes over to take your first round of orders.

The appetizers and main courses are ordered and Sophia grins when you request to keep the menu at the table to peruse the desserts. “I wager your key lime pie is better.” She teases as the waitress walks away. “I’ve never had something like that and I quite enjoyed it.”

“It’s Jack’s favourite.” That is definitely a bragging point for you, and you loved that you could introduce Sophia to it as well. “That, and my coconut cake.”

“Have you ever thought about making it a cheesecake?” Sophia asks, for purely selfish reasons. “I think it would be marvelous.”

“I certainly could be persuaded to do that.” It sounds like it would be incredible, and you know that Sophia, Tex, and Jack all love cheesecake so there would be people to test it out on. “Would that be an alternate dessert you might want to offer at the wedding? Key lime cheesecake or wedding cake?”

“Ohhhhh.” She’s intrigued by the idea and smirks as she thinks about it. “I think that would be lovely.” Some people don’t like traditional cake, so it would be a very lovely alternative.

“I think it would be really special.” And you point a little at her ring with a grin. “And I can make sure it’s got a fun shade of green to it, if you want. If green is going to be a wedding color, I mean.”

“You’ve noticed that I prefer green, have you?” Sophia grins as she looks down at her green dress and then back at you. “How?”

“Oh, just a lucky dress.” You snort, picking up your cocktail to enjoy the aptly named I Can’t Taste The Alcohol In This, which is delicious. “I’m guessing the bridesmaids will be in green? Or will you throw everything on its head and wear green yourself and have the bridesmaids in white?”

“Now that would be interesting.” Sophia tilts her head and her eyes sparkle with absolute glee. “I honestly love that idea and it would be cheeky as hell when people see the bridesmaids in white and think that is a faux pax.”

“I catered a wedding once where the brides wore color and their bridesmaids all wore white with a little color accent. It was beautiful.” It’s just an idea, but Sophia is exactly the kind of unconventional bride that would be able to pull it off gorgeously. “You think Tex would go for it?”

“Tex will go for whatever I want as long as he gets to strip me out of my dress.” She boasts, although it would be a serious conversation she has with him. She’s not the type to believe that it is just her wedding.

“They’re all just thoughts.” And you would never presume to help her make decisions. That’s not your place. Especially not when she hasn’t officially asked you to be involved in any way. This is just girl talk. “But it would be beautiful.”

"Of course it will be." Sophia smirks. "I want to see Jack's face when you walk down the wrong aisle in white towards him."

“Oh gosh…” You wonder instantly if that would freak him out, but there’s still a smile creeping across your face. “Does that…mean you want me to be a bridesmaid?”

It's adorable that you think you wouldn't be one of her bridesmaids but Sophia just nods. "Of course. Not going to not have my first friend in the States in my wedding." She snickers quietly. "Although maybe we'll put you in a red dress. Just for shits and giggles."

“Ha—ha.” The exaggerated laugh and eye roll is totally dignified, but you sip your drink again in amusement. “I mean it’s accurate, but if you want all the women he’s fucked to show up in red dresses there are going to be a lot of us.” You shrug though, not wanting her to be uncomfortable. “Same for Jack, though. It is what it is.”

"Teasing." She winces slightly and reaches out to touch your hand. "Seriously, I would be honored if you would be my maid of honor?" She asks quietly. "You've been so kind and I feel like we are going to be close for many years to come."

“Soph, of course I will.” Both of your hands squeeze hers tightly and you grin happily. Having been so worried and proven so wrong about how things would go when Tex came back with his soulmate, you’ve been delighted to call her a friend so quickly. “It’s my honor entirely. I promise.”

“Great.” She breathes out a sigh of relief. “I hated all the girls I went to uni with.” She admits breezily. “And between you and Gabi, Astrid and Diana, it feels like I actually have friends now.”

“Moving here is the first time I ever had best friends beyond my siblings.” Pausing to thank the waitress when she delivers your appetizers, you shrug a little and wave it off. “I adore my siblings. But there’s something about people who accept you entirely without having genetic reasons for it that I’ve really come to love.”

“It’s different. But I can’t even claim that.” She shrugs. “Only child.”

“Well.” Holding up your glass with a smile, you sit up a little taller in your seat. “Let me be the first to say it, then. Welcome to the family.”

“It’s an odd family.” She acknowledges with a grin and picking up her own glass to tap against yours. “So I think I’ll fit right in.”

“There’s…a dress shop…” You’ve only gone the one time, just once months ago, with Jack, but you tilt your head at Sophia now. “It’s not a bridal shop, technically, but it might be good for bridesmaids, or if you go looking for something other than white. They’re very good to Statesman employees and Statesman soulmates.”

“Ohhhhh maybe you can take me sometime?” She asks. “I do love a good dress shop.”

“Why don’t we go after you talk to Tex about colours?” It would be a hell of an outing, and you wouldn’t miss it for anything.

“Done.” She grins and leans back in her chair. “Thought it would be a hell of a lot more difficult to convince you to stand up with me.” She confesses.

“Never.” You shake your head and start doling out your appetizers onto two plates to share. “You’re fantastic, and Tex is fantastic, and hell…he already asked Jack to be his best man, so it’s all just a package deal.”

Sophia holds up her drink again. “To everyone being fantastic.” She offers with a wink. “Including you.”

******

“You’re beating around the bush!” Astrid argues, ready to pull rank as the only woman present. “I know Jack wants to know too. He’s a damn softie like me.” She grins, pouring out another round of shots from the bottle that the Shootouts bartender simply handed over when the crew of them walked in. “Tell us how you proposed!”

Tex chuckles and lifts his glass and in mock salute before taking a large swallow. “Asked her in the middle of a mission.” He confesses with a grin. “Slap damn in the middle of a brawl.”

“Oh God,” Ginger groans, despite herself. “Why is that actually cute? That shouldn’t be cute!”

“Hell yeah it should be.” Tex puffs up his chest, offended at the idea that it’s not supposed to be cute. “Woman had just beat the shit out of eight different men and I just—” he shrugs. “I couldn’t keep the question to myself. Dragged her to me, kissed her and demanded she marry me.”

“And you know she’s the right woman for him because she took down eight men and was still willing to say yes to putting up with him,” Rye chuckles, taking a long swig of his beer. “You could’ve gotten decked, too.”

“Damn.” Jack shakes his head and chuckles. “Sounds like a hell of a story for later on down the road.”

“I’m sure she’s tellin’ your girl right now.” Tequila grins broadly. “She likes havin’ a cowboy. Somebody manlier than she was meetin’ before.”

Snorting, Jack leans back and lifts a brow. “That’s rich, boy.” He teases playfully. “Didn’t you just start shavin’?”

“Measure of a man ain’t the hair on his face but the mettle in his heart.” Tequila pronounces, heavily paraphrasing but proud nonetheless.

“Whatever you say, Tex.” Jack huffs, grinning behind his glass and shaking his head at how happy the other man looks.

"I do say." The younger man puffs up like a proud peacock.

“He’s gonna be impossible now.” Jack predicts, looking over as Astrid and Rye. “You know that, right?” He chuckles and sighs. “Head was too damn big before he went over the pond, surprised he could get it on the damn plane comin’ home.”

“It’s sweet,” Astrid laughs, remembering when any little compliment from Gabi would make her feel like she was flying. The early stages with your soulmate are always amazing.

Jack can’t deny that and just settles for another huff that is more like a chuckle as he sips his whiskey. “Wonder what the girls are up to.”

Text checks his watch with a flourish. “A whole thirty-two minutes,” he announces to the table. “That’s all it took for the lovestruck Jack Daniels to miss his woman.”

Everyone laughs but Jack isn’t ashamed of it. “Hell, I was missin’ her when I walked out the damn door.” He jokes.

“She’s a hell of a woman.” Rye had actually gotten a chance to talk to you last weekend and had been impressed with how normal you had been about everything. As if the previous weekend hadn’t even happened.

“Yes she is.” Jack won’t deny that, “tough as nails and pretty as a picture.” He brags. Jack has never been shy about talking up his soulmate. Abigail had been showered with compliments and love and he’s going to do the same thing to you.

“And keeps us well-damn fed.” Rye agrees. He had thoroughly enjoyed the lunch that he had had in your kitchen, finding little sandwiches and soup to be more of an indulgence when they were expertly prepared.

“We’re gonna have to increase our workouts.” Jack chuckles, rubbing his hand over the slight belly that has gotten softer since you’ve come to Kentucky. “By a lot.”

“So I should expect to see you for an early gym time?” Tex teases, knowing that Jack would never get up as early as he routinely does to work out before having to be in his office.

“Shiiiiiit.” Jack huffs, shaking his head. “My work out that early is a different kind of workout. Cardio based.” He winks, grinning at how he had woken you up this morning.

"You can do both, old man." The good-natured joking and prodding between them has returned full force, and Tex belly laughs as he reaches for his drink. "Only person at this table not getting their cardio in is Joe," he chuckles, nodding to Rye beside him. "And maybe we can fix that with a pretty bridesmaid."

Rye chuckles and shakes his head. “Nahhhh, I doubt it.” He swallows down his whiskey and holds out his glass for a refill. “All the bridesmaids are gonna be taken.”

"Well, I don't know who all she's asking, but I know the maid of honour is spoken for." Tequila waggles his eyebrows at Jack and smirks.

“She’s gonna ask my sugar?” He can’t say as it’s surprising but to some outsider it might be. If they knew the history.

"Mmhmm." The younger man nods proudly and sips his drink. "Gonna ask her tonight. Those two are thick as thieves already. We're gonna be in trouble."

“Gonna have to make a pact.” Jack laughs. “Whoever gets in the doghouse lets the other use their spare room to crash.”

"We'll be doing flashlight signals across the neighborhood." Tex laughs, thinking of how ridiculous that would be in the age of cellphones.

“Maybe we need to build a treehouse to sleep in.” Jack adds, leaning into the completely juvenile ideas. “They can’t dump a cup of water on us while we’re sleepin’ if they can’t reach us.”

"Your gal has two siblings and mine is an agent." It has Tex chortling like a madman, and Astrid and Rye join in, shaking their heads in amusement. "What makes you think Soph wouldn't just scale the treehouse and have us under attack all over again?"

“You’re right. They might set the damn thing on fire.” Jack huffs, grinning at the image the banter is producing. “We’re just gonna have to keep ‘em happy, that’s the bottom line.”

"Suppose that's gonna have to be the way we go." Tex raises his glass to his friend with a dopey grin on his face, thoughts obviously trained on his soulmate even as Jack meets his salute and they both drink. "Wonder if she's asked her yet," he muses, also wondering where you've decided to go together and what you're doing.

Jack grins, shaking his head. “Admit it, you’re missin’ her too.” He accuses teasingly. “I just said somethin’ first.”

"Of fuckin' course I am." It earns a sort of dreamy shine to his eyes, and maybe even a blush in his cheeks, but Tex doesn't care. He's got the girl of his dreams - his soulmate - and they're gonna spend the rest of their lives together. It's all he's ever wanted and now it's his reality. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me."

“I’m proud for you.” Jack murmurs quietly, serious for a moment, “proud of you too.” He adds. “You took what could have been looked at as a punishment and turned it into the best damn thing that could have happened to you.”

"It was absolutely a punishment." He might be on the younger side, but Tex isn't a fool. He knows exactly what he did and why he was sent away. But he doesn't regret it. A slight overreaction? Sure. But it led him to Sophia, and that's all that matters. "But things work out the way they're supposed to," he looks his best friend in the eye and meets his seriousness. "Even when it looks like something's gone wrong in the process."

“Plus…” Jack spreads his hands out and gives the boy a grin. “Don’t know if I woulda had a chance against you if you’d have stayed.” Things might not have reached their boiling point and while he could have done without you being kidnapped, it had opened his eyes to what he really wanted.

"Who knows what might have happened." Astrid looks between the two men - her dear friends - and offers them both smiles. "Although I'm sure everything would have turned out alright."

“Like I said.” Jack nods. “Water under the bridge. We just need to get Tex and his lady hitched before she realizes how much he farts in his sleep.”

The table laughs good-naturedly, but Tex fixes Jack with the most intense look imaginable. "I've met my match," he tones seriously, before bursting out into a torrent of sniggers. "Woman's a menace," he admits. "Goddamn I love her."

“That settles it.” Jack slaps the table, tears in his eyes from hooting in amusement. “I’m gettin’ you one of those air purifiers for your bedroom as a weddin’ gift.”

"Scented candles," Rye is laughing through tears as well, slapping the table between belly laughs. "Incense. Anything."

“Don’t show up at their house too early in the morning. Give the place a chance to air out.” Jack adds.

“That’s true love.” Astrid snorts. “Bodily functions that could take down an elephant but he’s got hearts in his eyes.”

“I don’t know if there is a more true expression of love than to put up with someone’s shit.” Jack chuckles, sending Rye into another fit of giggles.

“Thank you, thank you,” Tex is nearly howling with laughter, but has his hand over his heart in mock seriousness. “I am the luckiest man on earth, thank you very much. And I’ll let y’all know my gas mask size after I get fitted.”

It’s amazing that a group of deadly, highly successful agents are giggling like ten-year-olds over body functions, but Jack doesn’t remember the last time he was this lighthearted.

"What do you think about..." Tex looks around the group when their laughter finally calms down, snorting one more time and finishing his drink. "What do you think about crashin’ girls' night? All of us?"

Rye shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “Whipped,” he teases. “You are both whipped.” He shrugs his shoulders and belts back the rest of his drink. “I’m game.”

"If we can't get him a bridesmaid, maybe he can pick up a date wherever the girls are," Astrid suggests with a smirk. She knows exactly where you are, since Gabi had texted her that Diana was babysitting the kids for the rest of the night so she could go meet up with the two of you.

“I like this idea.” Jack muses, slapping the back of his hand against Rye’s chest. “All Champ’s best agents deserve to get laid tonight.”

"I was gonna tell y'all tonight." Rye looks around with a grin on his face. "I'm transferring back to Louisville. Gin asked for the New York office as a reward for her last mission."

“Hot damn.” Jack chuckles and shakes his head. “The band is back together again.” There was a lot of hell raising the last time everyone at this table was together, he expects it will be the same - only with soulmates to add to the mix.

"They're on their way to Tin Roof." Astrid reports with a grin, waving her phone in the air. "Gabi's sister's band is playing tonight and the girls are meeting her there." She knows the answer already, but she still asks. "Should we hustle and get there before them?"

“What are we still doing here?” Jack demands, shooting out of the booth and looking at the other three.

******

"This is it, right here." The club that you're supposed to be meeting Gabi at isn't one you frequent but it's noisy and crowded, and you love the energy from the outside as you park the car down the block. Sophia has the GPS pulled up on her phone in the passenger seat and she's been texting with Gabi. "Is she already inside?"

“Yes!” Sophia chuckles and twists the phone so you can see the picture of Gabi holding a ridiculously blue drink. “She must be ready to get snockered tonight. Without the kids for an entire night?”

"This is her sister's band." You fling off your seatbelt and grab your purse from the backseat, ready to continue the night in this second location. The impromptu invitation from Gabi was a great idea. "I've seen them play once before and I had a blast, but yeah. She's definitely getting blasted already. Love her to death, she absolutely deserves it."

“Well, I want to try whatever she is drinking.” Sophia had eaten too much and would probably regret it, but she has every intention of dancing the meal away with her new friends and getting smashed enough that Tex will have to pour her into bed.

"I've heard this place has a killer drink menu, so we're gonna have fun." You flash your IDs for the bouncer, who has your names on a list, and tug Sophia inside by your intertwined hands. The place is dark and loud and ready for a party, and Gabi nearly screams when she spots you across the bar.

"Babes!" She bounces over with her drink in her hand, throwing her free arm around both of you as well as she can. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

“We’re glad you invited us. This place is wicked!” Sophia gasps, grinning ear to ear as she soaks in the heavy music and swaying bodies in the strobe lights.

"Drinks?" Gabi flashes you both a grin, wanting to at least get you started for the night before revealing the surprise that walked in the door five minutes ago. "Maybe a tequila drink and a whiskey drink, respectively?" She laughs delightedly at the pun.

Sophia snorts and grabs Gabi’s drink playfully. “If that’s the case, you get to stick to ginger ale tonight.” She teases, holding the drink back from her friend for a moment before handing it back to her.

"Not on an actual night out." Gabi's laugh is infectious, and all three of you go to the bar to get drinks. Sophia gets another of the bright blue drinks like Gabi has and you come away with something neon pink. "I've been hanging out on the side, right over here," she tells you and Sophia, leading you to an alcove with a large table. It's not until you turn the corner, though, that you see the table is being occupied.

“Well look who finally decided to show up.” Jack drawls as he leans back in the booth and grins at you. “Hey sugar, trouble’s blown into town.”

“Jack Daniels, as I live and breathe.” You squeal with delight seeing him lounging there and practically bolt forward to throw your arm around him. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

“Tex dragged us here.” He lies with a grin on his face, knowing that he had wanted to be here just as bad. “Shoulda seen it, it was pathetic how he was mopin’ and moonin’ over.”

“Oh yeah?” He makes room for you, and you sit down in his lap at the wide, circular booth. “I bet you weren’t excited at all to haul ass and come over here to surprise us.”

“He damn near broke our necks getting us here.” Tex throws him under the bus easily. “Tried drivin’ the Bronco like it was the Pony Express.”

Jack huffs and cuts his eyes at Tex. “Just because you drive like your Drivin’ Miss Daisy don’t mean I’m a fast driver.”

“You do drive kind of fast, baby.” He does almost everything fast, and you’ve been enjoying the hell out of that ever since the ‘everything’ he does included you.

Jack snickers and shakes his head. “Nahhh, y’all just can’t keep up.”

“Whatever you say.” Sophia snorts, cuddling into Tequila’s side. “I’m just glad you decided to join us.”

Jack pulls you close and presses a kiss to your jaw. “Have I told you how incredible you are lookin’ tonight, sugar?”

"Only about three times before I left the house." You hum into the moment, turning your head so you can slant your lips against his. "I think this might be your new favourite dress."

“If you could only hear the things I’m plannin’ on doing to you in that dress.” Jack drawls quietly in your ear.

“Oh yeah?” One eyebrow quirks curiously at him as you get comfortable in his lap. “You planning on having your wicked way with me?”

“Sugar….” Jack growls and his teeth scrap over your jawline. “If we weren’t in a crowded club, I’d have your dress up right now.”

There’s no way he doesn’t feel the shiver that rolls through you at that promise, or see the way your eyes flit around the space before coming back to land on him with mischief and lust written in your expression. “I see some dark corners to hide in, if we get impatient…”

“We could always go get something out of the Bronco.” Jack suggests, sliding his hand over your knee and to the hem of your dress.

Ever since the…unexpected revelation of being excited by the idea of getting caught, it’s stuck in your head. It’s slipped into your dreams. It’s been at the forefront of your fantasies. And you really just can’t shake it at all. “We definitely could,” you murmur back, shifting in his lap and feeling the unmistakable dampness in your panties that always follows the fantasies. That rush of lust never fails.

“Yeah?” Jack chuckles quietly. “I think we need to get that coat you left in there.” He teases quietly, his cock twitching against your ass.

“We do.” The emphatic nod you give him is laced with a disbelieving giggle. Are you really about to do this? “I’m a little cold…silly me for wearing a sleeveless dress…”

“Silly rabbit.” Jack smirks and dips his fingers under your dress, enjoying the way your flesh breaks out in goosebumps. “You’re cold sugar,” he announces loudly. “Let’s go get your coat out of the Bronco.”

“Back in a minute,” you hum to no one in particular, taking a large drink of your cocktail before hopping off Jack’s lap and grabbing his hand. Are you really about to do this? Asks the voice in your head again, but the rush of heat in your core is absolutely on board.

Jack tucks your hand in his and hustles you out of the club. He knows the wristbands will get you back in, but right now, he’s chuckling as he guides you past the queue to get inside and out towards the nearly deserted parking lot.

“You’re such a bad influence,” you giggle under your breath as Jack makes a beeline for his truck. You would never have considered this with any other partner before him – never. But with Jack you just can’t seem to get enough.

“Me?” Jack huffs, grinning as he pulls you forward and lets go of your hand to slap your ass. “You’re practically begging me to fuck you in that dress.” He teases.

“Do you want me to beg?” Shaking your ass at him just a little, you grin and turn to face him with a pout painted on your lips as fast as a light switch. “Does my Jack have a little bit of a dominant streak in him?”

“Sugar, I thought you knew that.” Jack huffs, even though you had already said he was something more along the lines of a ‘service top’. He hadn’t looked that upset to see what it meant, because you had been whimpering praises when you had said it.

“I must love being a sub then.” His hands are on you, holding you fast against the side of the Bronco, and your legs tremble a little in anticipation. “I’m learning so much about my sexual appetite from you.”

“Yeah, Sugar?” Jack smirks as he presses his thigh between your legs and lifts, so he is firm against your core. “You wanna be my good girl right now? Scream my name as loud as you need to and let anyone around here think you’re bein’ mugged?”

“Fuck.” There’s something about the way he says good girl that makes you ever wetter, core clenching and thighs tightening around his as it presses into you. “I—shit— yes. Whatever you want, baby.”

“Right answer.” His hands slide your dress up, aware that his body is blocking anyone from seeing too much of you, but you like this. Your cunt is already soaking his jeans through the poor excise of panties you have on underneath them. “Do you want me to rip off that lace or wear them after I’m done with you?” He demands, kissing up your throat.

“Need then to keep your cum inside me all night.” Jack had, at least, taken to your preference for cum play with eager indulgence. With an IUD in place, you’re welcome to play as much as you like, and Jack seems to love it.

“Good girl.” He groans against your clavicle, cock jumping in his pants, and he starts to pull them down. “Step out of them for me, sugar.” He orders, pulling his thigh away to kneel down in the gravel parking lot.

“Jack.” Just a gasp of his name comes from your lips in the night air, but you’re obedient in stepping out of your panties for him to shove into his jacket pocket temporarily. When he doesn’t stand up again right away you almost tease him, but he dives forward in one fluid movement to duck his head under your dress and taste your dripping slit so quickly that you can barely clap your hand over your mouth to stifle a moan.

His chuckle vibrates against your clit, smile curving up as his tongue dives into your core for a brief taste and slowly slithers though your folds before he sucks on your clit softly for a second. He would take his time if there wasn’t a group of people waiting for you back inside, but he couldn’t resist a taste as he pockets your panties.

“Oh fuck, baby.” Coming on breathy gasps instead of your usual loud moans because you are out in public, your hips follow his tongue and tilt forward to give him everything he wants even for the single minute he’s on his knees. “You’re so fucking good at that, holy shit.”

Kissing your clit again, he pulls away and shuffles to his feet. “Next time, I’m going to make you cum with my tongue.” He promises, licking your essence from his lips. “Right now I need to be inside you.”

Four hands fumble for his belt, desperate to get the buckle and his jeans open while you slide your tongue into his mouth and groan at your own taste in his kiss. You’re always so eager. Jack loves it, knowing that it’s still new but you’ve not once turned him away when he needs you. Just as eager as he is and it makes him feel like he is the only one in your orbit. “Fuck.” He groans, shuddering when your hand plunges into his jeans to wrap around him. Once again not wearing boxers pays off for him.

“So impatient,” you tease with a throaty chuckle, keeping your voice quiet as you nip at his bottom lip and pump his cock in long, luxurious strokes. There isn’t time for a lot of this, but he deserves a little attention after paying you the same courtesy.

“Fuck you’re so good to me, sugar.” He’s breathless, thrusting into your grip and his own hands flex around your hips. “Put me inside you.”

Shifting back so you’re sitting on the Bronco’s hood, you glance around quickly and feel the rush of adrenaline as you line him up at your entrance and hitch your leg up on his hip to let him sink inside you.

“Fuuuuuuck.” It gets better every fucking time. The way your body accepts him is nothing short of miraculous and he loves the way your walls give to let him in. “So good.”

“Quiet, love.” You remind him, whimpering under your breath and swallowing a gasp as he starts to move. You’re going to have to force yourself to keep your eyes open, but you don’t know how much good it will do when you’re facing a wall.

“Let ‘em hear.” Jack grunts, pulling his lip between his teeth has he starts to work his cock in and out of you. Knowing he needs to do this quick, but not caring as he punches deep and feels your body react.

Immediately your mind protests that you don’t want to get arrested for fucking in public, but the next stroke of his thick cock hits so deep that you forget to care, moaning out loud for the night to hear. Every sound you make for him is perfect, spurring him on as if you are commanding him for more. It’s hot and dirty, filthy in the best possible way and he reaches down between you to rub your clit because he knows he won’t last. “Cum for me sugar,” he growls. “Need you to be a g—good girl.”

It’s the most gorgeous symphony of sinful sounds you’ve ever heard in your life and the place makes you cling to him so that you won’t miss a single sensation. The throbbing veins lining his cock seem to pulse out both of your heartbeats and you whine out an agreement to his command as best you can before finding his lips again. If you can’t pour yourself into kissing him as you cum, you really might scream out in pleasure.

Jack moans against your lips, feeling the liquid rush of head that give him permission to cum. Letting go and gasping as he pours himself into you.

“Fucking hell, baby.” Gasping at the feeling of him spilling inside of you and clutching his leather jacket even as you lay back to feel the cool metal of the truck’s hood on your back.

Jack pants out your name, hunching over you so he can rest his head right in your stomach. Trying to catch his breath. “Warm now?” He chuckles.

“I think we just worked off the calories from dinner,” you joke, giggling breathlessly and running your fingers through his hair.

“Happy to help, sugar.” Jack looks up at you and as much as he would love to stay just like this for the rest of the night, he had to get you back. Pulling back and reaching into his pocket to pull out your panties with a grin.

As soon as he’s slipped then back on, you shimmy into them and sit back up. “C’mere,” you insist, slipping off the Bronco’s hood to bend over and slip his softening cock into your mouth, savouring the flavor of your combined juice and cleaning him up just a little so his jeans won’t be a mess when he tucks himself away.

“Shit.” Jack is spent, but still he moans quietly at the feeling of your mouth around his cock. Loving how you shamelessly want him. “Okay sugar, I need a break between rounds.”

Your satisfied hun makes both of you chuckle, and when you stand up again you feel light as a feather. “I better see if I actually have a jacket back there,” you shrug your shoulders and grin guiltlessly. “For appearances sake.”

“If you don’t, we’ll just say we couldn’t find it and I had to give you mine.” Jack reasons, smirking as he shrugs out of his jacket. He knows you don’t have a jacket in here.

“You just like seeing me in your clothes.” The first time you’d worn one of his old button-up plaid shirts around the house he’d almost pinned you to the nearest surface on sight — and you loved it.

“What can I say, sugar?” Jack grins. “Might be a little possessive.”

“Just a tad.” With both of you redressed, you snuggle into Jack’s side and head for the door again with a jubilant smile on your face. You can’t help it. He just makes you feel incredible and you’re not about to deny yourself the giddiness of it.

Back inside, none of the group has any doubts where you have been, or wheat you’ve been up to. Tex and Rye grin, the former whooping loudly for everyone to hear and slapping Jack on the back. Gabi hands you your cocktail back with a smirk, and you just set yourself down in the booth as innocently as possible before Jack comes to rejoin you, one arm thickly protectively around your body to keep you close.

“No coat in the truck?” She guesses, batting her eyelashes to you in Jack’s jacket.

“I guess not.” Your innocent shrug is fairly lame and you know it. “That��s okay, Jack doesn’t need his.”

“She knows I’ll always give her my jacket if she needs it.” Jack muses, taking a sip of his own drink with a smug grin.

Sophia nearly chokes on a laugh at that, not needing a road map for Jack’s comment in the least. “Very generous, mate,” she snorts, smirking at him and then Tex.

Jack winks at Sophia playfully, tugging you closer with his free hand and looking over at you. “I think so, wouldn’t you?”

“Extremely generous.” You agree with a solemn nod.

“Alright.” Ginger rolls her eyes at all of you like the long-suffering mother she is. “Horny bastards.”

“You are the one who told me I needed to get my head out of my ass and realize what I had.” Jack reminds her with zero shame. “Just took your advice.”

“I wish you’d take all of my advice so literally.” She shakes her head at him but readjusts her arm around her wife. “So much domesticity all at once. It’s like someone cast a spell over Statesman.”

“Something must be in the air.” Jack chuckles, leaning in and kissing your cheek. “Must be the scent of her coconut frosting.”

******

The day of the Rabbit-Hole’s opening party is the biggest piece of organized chaos that you’ve seen so far in your entire life. Bigger than either of your siblings’ weddings or any that you had catered – and bigger still than the last restaurant opening you worked through when you were just the pastry sous chef. Now, with the entire kitchen under your command, you’re just grateful that Diana is coordinating the party so you can focus on your food.

The cake case is full is bursting with every flavour, the decorations are as over the top as you could manage and still have the place feel cozy and inviting. There’s room for the bandstand on the patio, so that the open French doors will let music flow through the restaurant and anyone who wants to dance can be inside or out. Every single seat has been reserved and about a third of the guests have put in their reservations that they would like to partake in the tea service menu or have one of your signature soufflés as a part of their meal. And on top of it all - only three small disasters have happened today and each of them was resolved relatively easily.

Now, at four in the afternoon, you’ve run home to shower the flour out of your hair and the sweat off your skin, and to change into fresh clothes and a clean chef’s coat for tonight. Jack is back from the office early so he can meet your family at the airstrip, and you couldn’t be more grateful that he’s so willing to jump in and help.

“Hey.” Jack grins at you, excited for your gift that he has for you. “Are you ready?” He asks cocking his head slightly. “You look like you’re missing something.” You are freshly showered, in clean clothes but he gives you a playful grin as he leans in to kiss your lips.

"What?" A quick inventory of your outfit - appropriate pants and shirt, new slip-resistant boots, bracelets from your sister and from Jack, even the earrings shaped like teacups that your mother had sent you - says you've got everything in place. Even your hair and makeup are appropriate, if simple. You would sweat off anything elaborate in the kitchen. "No? I'm pretty sure I have everything. Unless—" Your hand flies to your belt loops and you sigh in relief. Your keys are where they should be. "No. I'm good."

Jack chuckles at your efficiency and shakes his head. “No, you’re definitely missing something.” The elaborately wrapped box is thanks to Astrid. Jack couldn’t wrap his way out of a room and he wanted the gift to be perfect for you. “I think this is what you need.”

"Wh—what is this?" Your eyebrows rise when he holds the box out to you, but the second it's in your hands you're eager to tear the bows and ribbon off. Jack's tendency toward gift-giving is usually smaller things - like a perfectly made cup of coffee in the morning. But this is not small by any means. You nearly giggle tearing the wrapping away, and carefully lift the lid of the box to reveal a layer of tissue...which surrounds a brand-new chef's jacket. Crisp white with The Rabbit-Hole's logo embroidered in red and black, with Chef and your name in the same style and colours underneath. "Oh my god," you gasp, feeling tears in your eyes immediately. "You didn't have to do this baby, but oh my god, it's perfect!"

“Of course I did.” Jack huffs, proud that you are touched by the gift. “No chef can attend the opening to her own restaurant without the proper wear, sugar.” Jack teases, sliding forward to unbutton the plain chef’s coat you have on right now. “Want you to remember tonight as the day all your dreams come true.” Later on will be another dream, he hopes.

"I'm so nervous." The jacket fits you perfectly, and you smooth your fingers over the embroidery with a watery smile of pure pride. "I'm terrified, honestly, but also excited. Like I have enough anxiety and adrenaline that I could vibrate into space."

“We are all here behind you.” Jack assures you, reaching up and squeezing your shoulders reassuringly. “Just let me know if you need anything, sugar.”

"Right now all I need is a kiss," you're beaming at him, unashamed to claim that prize and give him a squeezing tight hug. "And for you to pick up my family from the airstrip. I know they're only in for the one night, but I'm so glad they could all come."

“As soon as I leave here, I’m off to get them.” He promises, pulling you close and kissing you. “The jet is already starting to descend so they should be landing in ten.”

"Thank you, baby." One more kiss and you have to pull yourself away, admiring the embroidery on your coat all over again. "I have to run back to the kitchen, but I'll see all of you tonight." The opening is due to start in just two hours, and there is so much to do, but you actually - miraculously - feel ready.

“Break a leg.” Jack jokes. “Or a dish.”

"I love you." You squeeze his hand and shoot out the door, ready to get your hands dirty for the first few hundred people to ever eat at The Rabbit-Hole.

******

Meeting your family at the airport is nerve wracking. Not because of any changes of opinion or because you aren’t there to provide a buffer, but because of what your father is bringing Jack. Sending him a picture, Jack had bought a band to be an accompanying piece and would be completed by the wedding band to come. Anxious to see the ring in person and to put the pieces together so he can ask you to be his wife tonight after you have had one hell of a launch.

"Jack!" It's your little sister who jumps forward on the pavement first, ready to hug it out and enjoy the hell out of a weekend without the kids. "How terrified is she? Freaking out? Shaking in her stylish yet affordable boots?"

“She’s shaking in her custom embroidered chef’s jacket.” Jack accepts the bone crushing hug with a laugh. “But she’s got nothing to worry about, she’s going to kill it. You should see the place.”

"We will." Sherry steps up to be the next in line for a hug and is much gentler when she puts both arms around her daughter's soulmate. "In about a half an hour. How are you doing, honey? Work is good? Moving her in went okay?"

“Everything is floatin’ along perfectly.” He assures her, hugging your mother with a bit more restraint and smiling as he pulls back. “She’s all moved in and says she’s happy as a lark. I think that’s because she’s gotten used to me wantin’ to make her rest when she gets home. Ask her when she gets tired of eatin’ off the grill.”

"It'll take a long time for her to get tired of that." Stepping up behind his wife, your father puts his hand out to Jack with an approving smile. "But it's good to hear things are going well." He clears his throat and glances around as his family starts moving toward Jack's Bronco. "Still feeling good about tonight?" He asks Jack quietly.

“I am.” Jack nods, looking into your father’s eyes seriously. “I have your permission to ask your daughter to marry me?” It seems important to make sure, even though everyone knows it’s been leading to this. He respects the man enough to ask again.

"Yes." Jeff chuckles quietly, appreciative of the respect but knowing that you would do what you damn well liked with or without your father's permission. The ring box in his jacket pocket is Jack's now, and he offers it to the younger man easily. "I hope you don't mind, but I told them this morning. My wife wanted to know why I was going into the safe, and it seemed okay to let it out."

“Absolutely.” Jack chuckles as he opens the box and smiles down at the simple, yet gorgeous ring that had been your grandmother’s. “I have the first part of the wraparound here.” He tells him, pulling out his own small box to open, showing the band he had designed to fit around it. The wedding band would go on the other side in time.

"Oh, it's beautiful," your mother gasps with delight, inspecting the delicate details on the wrap band that Jack had picked out. "Honey, she's going to love it. I just—" She's a little misty-eyed, but who can blame her. "I'll save the congratulations for later, but I'm so happy for both of you."

“I hope to make her happy every day,” he promises Sherry. “I know I won’t succeed every day, but that’s the goal.”

"Never go to bed angry, son." That's her best motherly advice, and she hands it out with a sage nod. "That's the key to everything. No matter which one of you gets stubborn, always work it out before bed."

“Honestly, I don’t know if I can sleep without her in my arms.” Maybe it’s a little too much information for your parents, but he doesn’t mean it in a sexual way. Just the comfort of you in his arms helps him sleep.

"Oh god, they're happy," Matt groans, making gagging noises and playing his essential role as older brother. "Absolutely disgusting," he deadpans, grinning broadly at Jack.

“Completely disgusting.” Jack agrees wholeheartedly, chuckling at the way your brother likes to tease. “You should see Tex with his soulmate if you think we’re bad. She’s a Brit with a mouth that is fouler than a sailor’s and a love for him as big as Texas.”

"He found her?" Sherry clasps her hands over her heart and practically does a happy dance as the group of them climbs into the Bronco. "That's such good news. He's a nice boy. Are they going to be at the opening tonight?"

“Of course they are.” Jack climbs behind the wheel and turns the engine over. “They have become fast friends. To the point where she’s gonna be Sophia’s maid of honor this summer.”

Matt and Jeff let out an identical whistle from the backseat that sends everyone into a soft laugh, and Sherry nods her approval in the passenger seat beside Jack. "Everybody's happy. Just the way it should be." After all, she'd liked Tex when she thought that he was her daughter's soulmate, she doesn't like him any less now that he is someone else's.

“Everyone’s happy.” Jack agrees, smirking as he pulls away from the tarmac. “Let’s go down the Rabbit-Hole, shall we?”

"To The Rabbit-Hole." Sherry aims one finger in the air like the call of a charge and laughs again, excited to see the restaurant that was barely beginning to take shape the last time they were in Louisville.

By the time Jack pulls up to the distillery, the parking lot is already starting to fill up. “Oh boy, here we go.” He chuckles as he jumps out. The grand opening banner has been draped over the entrance and he beams at how everything looks. “It’s all come together.”

"Hot damn." Jeff pops out of the truck with a grin. "She's really done it, hasn't she? The whole place is hers."

"Dad, we're not even inside," Eliza laughs, pulling her husband along with her in an eager attempt to get to the door ahead of the rest of her family. "Daniels, party of six," she tells the hostess at the stand just inside the doorway. There's music pouring softly through the building and the smells from the kitchen are completely divine. "Oh my god, look!" She squeaks while the hostess is checking in their reservation, pointing at the pastry case. "The coconut cake is front and center!"

“She wanted to make that a permanent part of the menu.” You have too many ideas to have a permanent menu without some rotation, but some items were going to always be available. “I think that is the star of The Rabbit-Hole.”

The six of them follow the hostess out into the dining room, the whimsical decor and rich colors grounded by walnut-stained tables and chairs and brass accents. Soft white linen tablecloths give a feeling of elegance, and your mother can’t help cooing at every detail as they’re seated at one of the larger tables.

Jack beams as he looks at everyone taking in the atmosphere, snapping photos and looking excited as a line of servers show them to their tables. You had even gone so far as to have the party name engraved on heavy card stock and placed in the middle of the tables for a touch of whimsy and practicality, making the best use of the configurations for ease of seating. “She’s outdone herself.”

“It’s perfect,” Eliza breathes as she sits down, twisting her head to see all around the dining room and as much of the patio as she can. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

“The menu is specialized for today.” Jack boasts as he looks at the elaborate scroll of the paper.

“Everything sounds good.” Your brother-in-law groans, knowing it will be impossible for him to make a decision.

“Can I recommend the meatloaf?” Diana flashes everyone a grin, appearing at Jack’s side with the proud glow of a happy friend. She’s been pointing out to absolutely everyone that the menu says Diana’s meatloaf and glowing over it.

“I still can’t believe that you gave her your prized recipe.” Jack knows that the special will only be a once a week offering, but it’s a point of pride for him to see her so happy about it.

“If I was ever going to share it outside the family, it would only be for someone like her.” She greets your family with hugs all around, sharing in the excitement of opening night. Everyone is bubbly and jittery all at once and it’s making the restaurant feel so active.

“How is she holding up?” Jack asks quietly, having promised you he wouldn’t slip into the back while the work was going on. You were too busy for distractions.

“I heard her laughing in the kitchen just before you came in, so I think we’re okay.” Jack gets the biggest hug, of course, and Diana pats his back soothingly.

“Good.” Diana knows that he is planning on proposing after the opening is done. Making sure that there is plenty of champagne for more than just the after party.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him quietly, knowing that he must be nervous. She would be, anyway.

“Honestly?” Jack surprises himself. “I’m feeling great.” He knows you will say yes. His only worry is that he will disappoint you by proposing on your big day.

“Good,” Diana’s smile widens, overtaking her face. “Ride that wave, honey. It’s going to be great.”

“She’s going to love it, right?” Jack looks around the table at those who know you best. No one has argued with his plan, so he’s taking that as a good sign, but he wants to be sure. “Proposing tonight?”

“Absolutely.” Your sister has no hesitations about Jack’s plan, and offers her soon-to-be brother-in-law a nod of encouragement. “My sister is many things, but quiet about her happiness shouldn’t be one of them. The grand gesture is the perfect plan.”

“Good.” Jack deflates, relieved to be reassured that he’s doing the right thing. “That’s damn good.”

“Just give me a signal so I can film it,” your mother insists, always being the documentarian of the family. It’s because of her that there is such a complete photo history of your childhood.

“Of course.” Jack nods, grateful for your family’s support. “Diana, you have her dress here?” He knows you wouldn’t want to be proposed to in your chef’s uniform, so he had arranged for Diana to bring one of your favorite dresses, knowing the older woman could convince you to change for the little after party without arousing too much suspicion.

“It’s all set up.” She promises him. She had also arranged for the band to do a little rendition of the Elton John classic Your Song after you say yes, but that’s a surprise for both of you. “Don’t you fret, honey. We have everything taken care of. Just enjoy your dinner and be proud of your soulmate.”

“You know I’m going to.” Jack nods to Diana as she slides away to greet another table and he grins at everyone. “How about we order us our first drinks?”

They all knew the food would be good. They knew the food would be great, even. But whatever you’re doing back there in that kitchen tonight is magic because this might be – according to your father between giddy bites of fried chicken – the very best you’ve ever cooked.

“Whatever is in this, it’s gotta be illegal,” your brother groans, when not a single speck is left on his plate.

“And yet?” Your sister is beaming, soufflé and pork erased from existence and sitting happily in her stomach. “I can’t wait for dessert.”

“She’s been busting her ass to make sure that everything is perfect. You don’t know how many times she’s thrown out a recipe and started from scratch for tonight.”

“Sounds like her finals in culinary school.” Eliza groans happily and sits back, patting her stomach. “I think there’s just enough room for dessert.” She flashes Jack a grin. “And champagne.”

“Always room for champagne.” Jack contends. “Especially when you have to know this woman has even made an after-party menu.”

“She didn’t?” Although why your mother is surprised is anyone’s guess. Of course you went overboard. “That girl, I swear.”

“To thank the staff for all their hard work.” Jack shrugs, accepting that you do too much.

“Accidentally catering her own engagement party sounds pretty on point.” Matt chuckles at it, knowing you’ll get a kick out of it when you think about it later. “Get ready,” Diana sweeps by the table with an excited aura radiating from her. “I’m gonna go make sure she’s changed up and ready to give her ‘thank you’ speech.”

Tonight was just going to be one seating. It wasn’t going to be an all-night affair. It was the beauty of this because every table was saying they needed to book another reservation now. “It’s time.”

******

“Di!” When your friend appears in the kitchen you’re in your element, executing the last few desserts to go out and wiping sweat from your forehead with a kitchen towel with a giant grin on your face. “Is it time already? Shit…I completely lost track.” One glance at the clock shows yes, you’ve completely lost track of the hour. It seems like the night only started ten minutes ago. “How is…do they—do they like it?” You ask, almost afraid to hear her answer.

“Babe, you can guarantee that your tearoom will be packed from here on out.” Diana laughs, throwing her arms around you. “They are already asking for reservations to come back.”

“Really?” It would enough to have you in tears if you weren’t flying on so much adrenaline. Instead you hug Diana back fiercely. “Okay, let me just make sure we have the buffet trays ready for the after party and I’ll change.” The idea for the rest of the night is to be informal, and to let your staff join the fun. All you’ll do later is clean up the dining room. Doing the last batch of dishes before lunch service tomorrow will be a snap.

“Go change, I’ll take care of that.” Diana shoos you away from the table where the staff party supplies are sitting. “Go on. I can handle this part.”

The dress was Diana’s idea, and she had somehow magically managed to convince you to pull the vintage party dress out of the back of your closet that you had only worn once before. The little blue number was perfect, she insisted over and over until you gave in. Now you come out of your office after cleaning up and changing your clothes feeling a little silly. “It’s not too much?” You ask her, uncertain.

“Honey, it’s perfect.” Diana gushes, nearly tearing up but she knows that would make you suspicious as to why she’s crying over your launch party dress. “You deserve tonight.” She tells you honestly. “Every bit of it.”

“If you say so.” The speech of thanks and encouragement was given to your staff at the beginning of the night, and you’ve been giving them so much praise as they worked their asses off for this dinner service, and even now you flash them a big double thumbs up from one end of the kitchen. “Time to wind down, guys!” You tell them loudly, absolute giddiness clear in your voice. “Get your stations cleaned up and come out to join the party!”

Diana is just putting the finishing touches on the table with Eliza’s help while Champ and Jack start pouring glasses of champagne into flutes for all the staff. Jack wants to let you have this moment first, to bask in the success before he steals the spotlight for a moment. Matt, your father and mother are all setting the dining room to rights, giggling over the fact that every single table had taken the menus and their place cards home with their to-go pastries from the now completely wiped-out case.

The friends and family that have stayed behind for the party are all doing their part, and when you walk out of the kitchen with your staff behind you, the applause is deafening. These people – these wonderful people – are on their feet for you immediately. Cheering and whistling as they put their hands together for your efforts. And it has you nearly in tears as you take the seemingly long walk to the center of the dining room. “Well that was unexpected,” you laugh, holding the microphone that the band leader hands you away from your face when it gives you feedback. “I—thank you, everyone, from the bottom of my heart. Tonight was a dream thanks to all of you and the amazing staff of The Rabbit-Hole. Please give them another round of applause because they executed flawlessly tonight.” A second round of cheers and clapping deafens the room for a second as your staff cheers right back, already accepting flutes of champagne from Diana, Astrid, and Sophia as they walk around with trays. “Most of you probably think of this place as being three months in the making but the truth is that it has been my entire life. Some of these recipes have been handed down through my family for generations only to end up in the hands of this amazing crew of cooks and I could not be more grateful or proud. It’s—” You laugh when the first tears escape, and shrug your shoulders, because it was inevitable.

“My grandma Jane, whose coconut cake is the crown jewel of our dessert menu, used to always tell me that I could do anything. ‘Beautiful girl’ she would tell me whenever I was discouraged or afraid, ‘you can do the hard thing’. And I have lived my life with her words as my voice of encouragement. So tonight is dedicated to Grandma Jane, with all my gratitude, because I would never have gone into culinary without her. To my staff, with all my thanks, because this is going to be an amazing place that we will make a must try experience for anyone in Louisville…” Your head turns, eyes finding Jack standing just a few feet away, and you smile. “And to my soulmate, with all my love, for all of his support as I became an increasingly crazier woman as we got closer to tonight. Thank you, Jack.”

Jack ducks his head and grins as Matt whistles and decides that now is the perfect time for him to come up beside you. He can see the way you cock your head and what you don’t know is that he has a microphone already clipped to his jacket so he can be heard throughout the space. He thanks Diana silently as she reaches over and takes the microphone from your hand to give it back to the band. “Sugar.” Jack takes your hand and kisses the back of it, “I’m mighty damn proud of you.” He declares as he grins up at you from where he’s bending over your hand. “You deserve every second of tonight. And I’m hopin’ to end the night on a high note for you.”

At first you don’t put the pieces together. Why does Jack have a microphone on? Why is he coming out and acting like he’s going to make a speech? Why is your mother still recording? And then it hits all at one as Jack bends over just one of your hands when he always takes both. “Oohhh my god…”

Jack shuffles to one knee and sends you a mockingly reproachful look. “Hold on now.” He chides with a grin. “Lemme get my speech out.” He huffs, reaching into his pocket with his other hand to pull out the velvet box your father had given him. “Now sugar, every person in this place knows we’ve had a rocky road to where we are now.” Jack won’t deny that, and he wants to be honest. “But we are here and I don’t know if I ever want to be lookin’ at a future that doesn’t involve you. You’re my soulmate.” That phrase alone is very symbolic to both of you and he squeezes your hand gently as you stare down at him in shock. “Never thought second soulmates existed, and now I thank God every day that they do, and you’re mine.” Jack has to pause, clear his throat as he gets a touch emotional before he continues. “You drug me down the rabbit-hole. Where I learned to love again, that I was capable of it, and to accept that I had a future far beyond my past. I love you with every fiber of my soul, sugar. Will you marry me?” He opens the box to show you the two rings. “Your Grandma Jane also had a hand in this too. I hope you don’t mind getting two rings.” He winks at you as he waits for your answer.

The way you squeak out “Yes” is barely audible to anyone but Jack, but your emphatic nodding through a curtain of tears says all it needs to. The room has narrowed down to just Jack and you, and you pull him back up to standing again with shaking hands. Never in a thousand years would you have expected this - especially so soon - but your tears have turned from proud to ecstatic in an instant. “I love you so much,” you murmur, forgetting the microphone will pick up anything you say, and you can’t help but laugh when you hear it loud and clear across the restaurant.

“I love you, sugar.” Jack promises you, taking the rings out of the box very carefully to slide both of them on your finger. “Perfect fit.”

“Yeah.” You hold into his hands tightly, admiring the rings for a moment before you look back up at him. “We are.”

Jack leans in and presses his lips to yours, making another round of applause go up as he holds you close and the band starts to play.

“I love you.” Someone, probably Diana, thankfully cut Jack’s microphone, and you can whisper safely in his arms as he starts to move you around the middle of the dance floor. “More than anything in the world.”

“I love you too sugar.” Jack promises. “I want the rest of my time on this earth with you.”

“And you’re going to get it.” The giddy giggles that well up inside you have you grinning all over again and your hands against his chest make the rings - plural - sparkle every time they catch the light. “So…was this what you and my dad were talking about the last night they were here?”

“Yeah.” Jack grins. “Along with the ‘what are your intentions’ questioning.”

“Well I know you got his approval, because he gave you my gran’s ring.” It’s such a giddy thing, and you lean in to kiss him as you turn together. “She would have loved you. And she would have loved the idea of two rings…I’m assuming that was your idea?”

Jack nods. “I couldn’t just give you your grandmother’s ring.” He explains quietly. “There’s another band to wear as a wedding ring. Fully surrounding her ring.”

“You’re the sweetest man in the whole world, you know that don’t you?” He always goes above and beyond. You know that about him, and you love what it says about him and the depths of his caring. “I honestly…I would have been okay with it if you never wanted to get married again. But I’m a tiny bit excited to be Mrs. Daniels.”

“I know you hadn’t let yourself imagine it.” Jack huffs sadly. “It’s why Sophia had standing orders to make you think about your own wedding.”

“I have a secret for you.” It’s sweet that they had enlisted Sophia’s help, but you bite back a shit-eating grin. “I’ve imagined a lot. I just kept my stash of bridal magazines and website bookmarks secret so you wouldn’t feel pressured.”

“Yeah?” Jack chuckles, grinning at you and shaking his head. “Next you’ll be tellin’ me that you’ve already decided what names the kids will have.”

“I might have ideas,” you admit sheepishly. “But I would never decide anything without you.”

Jack chuckles quietly and leans in to kiss you. “Sounds good, sugar.” He murmurs against your lips. “I want you to dream with me.”

“For the rest of our lives.” That sounds like a very good amount of time. “I promise.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniel x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au #Agent Tequila #Agent Tequila x OC #Agent Tequila x female OC

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