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cupcakeinat0r · 5 months

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Broadway Baby ch. 3

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: Today is your first lesson… and we’re not talking abt the piano lesson you give Gabriella…

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, squirting, mirror sex?, p in v, losing ur V card, unprotected (wrap it n tap it pls), nipple play

Tags: Sugar Daddy AU, Age gap, Soft dom! Miguel, Sub!Reader, reader is a Latina mami (written by a Latina <3), Miguel is a horny dilf (girl dinnerrr), and accurate Spanish translations <3

Word count: 5.7k

Ch. 2

Note: I do use the word ‘small’ but this is not in regard to reader’s appearance, simply a comparison to Miguel’s height :) <3

I promised y’all toe curling smut so I hope I delivered!!! Enjoy!!

That morning, you woke up earlier than normal because you wanted to make sure you showed up to Miguel’s house flawless.

You did your hair, you painted your nails, you moisturized your entire body, did your skin care regimen, and you meticulously did your makeup, hell, you even gua sha’d your face beforehand; a secret Santa gift from a year ago, never taken out of its box until now. It was your nerves to blame for your over-thorough preparation.

For your outfit, you settled on a knitted dress which hugged your body from top to just above the knees paired with a matching cropped cardigan and some close-toed heels. Cute yet professional.

On the way to Miguel’s place, you look over your little lesson planner you created the night before; something to go by as you teach Gabriella. You’ve never taught anyone in your life, let alone a child, but you were looking forward to it. You were technically helping raise the next generation of artists, and that made you feel excited about this opportunity.

Once you get to the location sent by Miguel, you look up to see a house that very much lives up to what you expected Miguel to live in. It was modern with clean and sharp edges. You were having to lean your head back it was so big, your eyes wide as you imagine the pricing on this real estate.

You take in a deep breath, ringing the doorbell.

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

Miguel’s morning was just as hectic.

Just like you, he wanted to make sure he looked good for you. He chose an outfit he thought you would really like. He shaved his face (even though you liked his scruff), fixed his hair, and put on the nicest cologne he owned.

He went as far as preparing a breakfast so that you had something to eat before or after your lesson with Gabriella.

Miguel, standing in the middle of his living room, looked around the house, making sure everything was presentable and clean for you.

“Gabri, casi listo (almost ready)? Your teacher’s gonna be here soon!” He calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Yes, papa, almost done!” She calls back.

Miguel then goes to his phone when he hears a notification.

Omw!! Just got in the car!

Great 👍

And what is omw?

It means ‘On My Way’!

Oh LOL 😂 Getting

too for old this I guess👴🏾

Jajajaja ay, no pa tanto,

(Not so much) you know What they say,

32 is the new 22!

Jajaja you’re too sweet.❤️

Bueno, te veo pronto.😌

( Well, see you soon.)

See you soon!!! So excited

to meet her!!!

Miguel reads the last text with a soft smile. You truly were just the sweetest human being he’s ever witnessed. Sometimes, he just wanted to cup your face and smother you in kisses. Or smother his face between those plush thighs of yours. Either way, he’d be a happy man.

He’ll be able to give into those fantasies. Soon.

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

You stand on his doorstep, waiting after you rung the doorbell. Your heart drops as you hear the door unlocking.

It’s just Miguel. The man of your dreams, but he’s just a guy. Chill out.

When the door opens, there he is, standing 6 foot 9 inches, a beautiful latin man, clean shaven, wearing a compression shirt, gray sweats, some house slippers, and smells of teakwood and vanilla. He opens the door wide open, giving you his signature smile. “Morning, beautiful. Ven, ven.” (Come in, come in) he says, ushering you inside his home.

You always forget how actually beautiful he is until you see him in person. You swallow down hard as you look up at him and offer him a tight smile as you step inside. You can already feel your cunt flutter and a sticky warmth form in your underwear at just the sight of him as you step inside, stealing a glance at his ripped body underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. And those sweats were a size too small on him. Damn him.

Miguel was no better. When he opened that door and saw you, smaller than him and wearing a dress that accentuated your waist and ass, cleavage teasing him through the neckline and cardigan, his breath hitched. He had to hide his arousal with a smile, but goddamn, you looked delicious. If you weren’t here to teach his daughter how to play piano on her 7th birthday, he would’ve pulled you inside the house, bunched your dress above your tits, thrown you onto the sofa and fucked you missionary style until you were a panting mess.

“So How was the ride here, sweetie? Were you comfortable? Can I get you anything to drink? Agua, jugo de china…?” (Water, orange juice) He starts the conversation as you both step into the living room, his hand on the small of your back.

You chuckle at Miguel’s thoughtful questioning. “Don’t worry, it was very nice, and thank you so much for doing that, you didn’t need to!”

“Oh, please, I wasn’t gonna let you pay for an Uber to my house. And the subway was out of the question. Pretty girls like you don’t belong there, anyway.” He smirks, which makes you blush in return. “Muchas gracias, Miguel. I may actually do that glass of water, please.” As soon as you ask for it, Miguel is already in the kitchen fixing you the drink.

“Here you go, sweetie. I also made some breakfast, so please, help yourself. ” You blush at the name, taking the glass from him. “Thank you, this all looks so delicious! I’ll probably eat after the lesson. You look comfy, by the way!” You compliment Miguel before taking a sip. He smiles, looking down at his outfit before responding, “You could say that. I’m working from home, so no suit today. As for you, you look beautiful, but that’s old news.” He flirts before taking a sip of his own glass of water. You smile as your gaze retreats to the cup in your hands, “Oh, stop it, you’re too much.”

“What? I’m just telling the truth.” He says with a shrug and his brows furrowed. You can practically feel his eyes grazing over your body. Miguel loves the way you blush at his advances; practically lives off of it, your cute little bashful self. You look up to give him a smile, looking to change the subject or else you’ll become the color of a tomato.

“So where’s the birthday girl?” You set the glass down on the counter top, Miguel leaning against it on the other side. “She should be coming down any minute now. She’s been going through the roof about these lessons, but she doesn’t know that you’re teaching them, so you’ll be the surprise.” Your mouth drops in awe, your hand going up to touch your chest, “aw, oh my goodness, that just made me even more excited! Ugh, I’m a huge fan of hers already. ” Your smile is wide enough that your dimples become visible, Miguel taking note of them and wondering how you can be so hot and adorable at the same time. Miguel starts to lean closer toward you over the counter.

“Well, she’s a huge fan of yours,” Miguel says, getting even closer to you as he props himself on his elbows, his muscles on full display as he looks at you with a flirtatious gaze, “and I don’t blame her.” His words make your smile fall slightly as your eyes go down to those tempting lips, your insides crying for you to just lean over and kiss them. Miguel’s eyes follow yours, something primal unleashing in him when he sees your lips part. Then you hear the patter of small feet rushing down the stairs, the two of you looking at Gabriella as she comes down.

“Papa, is she here yet-“, her face drops when she sees you in the kitchen. Her idol was in her home. “Feliz cumpleaños, Gabriella!” (Happy Bday) You say, reaching your arms out when you see run up to you. She hugs you, her cheek pressed against your stomach as she squeals, then she looks up, “You’re gonna be my teacher?!” “That’s right, and we’re gonna have so much fun!” Your response makes her jump with joy. “This is the best birthday ever!!!”

Miguel looks at the two of you with a grin before speaking, “She’s gonna teach you piano today, mija, so listen carefully and follow her instructions, you hear me?” “Yes, papa! C’mon, papa got me a big piano yesterday for us to use!” She says, your hand in hers as she leads you through the house and into a smaller room. You shoot Miguel a giddy smile before being pulled away by the seven old.

“Do you have a piano like this?” She exclaims, sitting up on the bench of the piano. You place the lesson planner on a nearby table and sit next to her. “Oh, well, I’ve never actually had my own piano. I always played with pianos that belonged to my teachers or the theater.” You respond.

“Oh. You can play with mine anytime you want, then!” She says with a toothy smile. You giggle at her adorable generosity in return, “Thank you, mamita, I appreciate it.” Miguel leans against the doorframe watching you two talk to each other a little more and he’s living for how happy Gabriella is to be with you. Sure, she was daddy’s girl, and loved him to death as any spoiled little girl would, but he’s never seen her like this. She was usually so shy with people but with you, Gabriella was an open book.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two ladies to it, then. If you need me, I’ll be in the study.” He says, closing the glass door behind him.

“Okay, ready?” “Ready!” Gabriella says, and with that, the lesson had started. “Tell me everything you know about the Piano, mama.”

“Ummm…”, her eyes travel across the black and white keys. “In music class, Mrs. Smith showed us how to read music!” You perk up in surprise. “Awesome! So, let’s see… if I pressed this key, do you know what letter this is?” You say, pressing the middle white key. “Oh! Um, um, that’s a… C?” “Yes! Oh my goodness, you’re such a smart girl! Do you know what this one is?” “Uh… G!” “Right again!” You joyfully laugh at your young pupil’s intelligence.

“I only know these ones though, I dunno the black ones.” She says, discouraged. “Oh, don’t you worry, mamita, I’ll show you. By the end of today, you’ll be a pro at these black keys! Watch…”, then you use your right hand, gently pressing the keys to explain to her their assigned letters. Miguel is able to take a peek into the piano room from his study, occasionally peering over his computer with a smile. You were the cutest lil teacher for his daughter.

He wasn’t getting any work done, too busy admiring your patience and gentleness with Gabriella anytime she wasn’t able to get something right. You were so encouraging and uplifting, and that’s exactly what Gabri needs. It’s what Miguel was looking for in a partner. You were beautiful. You were kind. You were intelligent and strong. All those things were bonuses, but this right here, what you were doing in that piano room, was what set you apart. This wasn’t just physical attraction anymore. He was falling deeply for you. He needed you.

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

There was about 15 minutes left in your hour lesson with Gabri when she asks, “May I use the restroom?”

“Of course, mama, you don’t ever need to ask that! I’ll be right here waiting.” You say warmly as she hops off the bench and leaves. You’re left alone with the most beautiful piano sitting in front of you, and your hands itch to play on it. Not able to fight back the urge, you begin to play some Debussy.

Nose deep in his work, Miguel’s head bobs up from the sea of papers in front of him when he hears the melody. The corners of his mouth lift, and he walks toward the piano room. He sees you playing through the open door, watching as you get lost in the music. Still playing, you take a quick glance to the side, feeling as though someone was at the entrance of the room, finding that you were right. You stop playing and pat at the bit of open bench next to you.

“Wanna learn?” You wholesomely prompt, but he chuckles, shaking his head in apprehension. “I’d rather not, I wouldn’t understand a single thing.” “Ay, no seas asi (don’t be like that). C’mon, let me show you at least a little bit! Please?” You plead, tilting your head to the side as you persuade Miguel, and it works. With a sigh, he sat down on the bench, straddling it so that he’s facing you.

You immediately regret the decision when you can feel his large body just mere inches from your much smaller stature. You clear your throat, “The song I was playing just now was in the key of D flat Major, meaning I only press these keys…” you start explaining the music to Miguel, but he’s completely lost in how your lips move, the way your voice sounds like honey, how your eyes look from the piano and back up to him. You begin to crack under his intense gaze.

He isn’t getting a single word of this.

You knew he wasn’t really listening, but you kept talking about the song anyway, scared of giving into his seductive look. He was so close to you right now. He was all up in your business. You were quivering from the tension in the air, your only refuge being all 88 of the keys in front of you. Due to your nervousness, your voice had grown softer, slightly wavering. You swallow down before rambling on, “and, um, this here is a… is a harmonic scale…and, uh….”

Miguel sees your hand tremble as it hovers over the piano. He then grabs it lovingly. You stop talking, your nerves easing from the warmth of his hand. His thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand reassuringly, his hand completely engulfing yours. With the palm of his hand against the back of yours, he intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing it up to his face.

“So soft…”

he whispers, breathing in your scent as he places a kiss on the palm of your hand, making a small smack when he pulls away. “So sweet…” He then slowly brings his mouth to your neck, your skin prickling with every brush of his breath. “Miguel…” you murmur when you feel his lips and tongue suck at the flesh of your neck, the low vibrations of his voice against your skin sending shivers down your body.

He moves up to the shell of your ear, whispering with strain, as if he’s been holding this back for far too long, “You drive me crazy, you know that? sabes cuanto te necesito?” (you know how much I need you?). He puts his head back into the crook of your neck, planting small kisses there and his hands wrapping around your waist, squeezing the clothed flesh. As Miguel’s touches become fervid, you let out a small moan, trying to use your hands to stop him, “ay, M-Miguel, no puedo (I can’t), what if Gabriella-“

“por favor, cariño, (please, sweetie) I can’t… Mm… I can’t wait…Mngh… any longer, bebe…(baby)” he begs in between kisses that make their way up your jaw and to your cheek. He completely wraps his ginormous arms around you, his fragile doll, caged by his burly build.

“I need you so badly, sweetheart.” He coos breathlessly, brows knitted as he pouts like a lovesick puppy.

When he’s about to kiss you on your lips, he stops to drink in your face. Your lips pouted and parted. His eyes, the color of sweet, dark wine, looking down at them, imagining how soft they’ll feel in about a second… or how they would feel wrapped around his massive dick. One of his hands cups your face, the other wrapped around your waist to pull you in even closer to press against his thick, toned body. You look up at him with those same big, round, doe eyes; that same innocent look that never fails to make his dick throb. You don’t look down at it (as much as you wanted to, but you were occupied by his now even more plump and wet lips), but you can feel it against the side of your thigh… and he’s big.

“So pretty for me…,” his thumb swipes at your bottom lip, “You’re so good… so fucking perfect… fuck, c’mere-“ he hungrily smashes his face against yours, lips entangled, his tongue probing at your entrance before you eagerly let him in. You snake your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. What began as a sweet, tender kiss quickly turns into a heated one, the room filled with the smack of y’all’s lips and soft sighs of pleasure. His hold on you tightens with each pleasured whimper you send into his mouth, his own growls and tongue going down your throat and igniting the heat between your legs. You feel the warmth of his hand on your cheek leave, returning on your inner thigh after he lifts your dress, his hand going up higher and higher…

Your make-out session was cut short by the sound of a distant sink being turned on. Must’ve been Gabriella washing her hands, which means she would be walking back in here any second now.

You both pulled away hurriedly, having to catch y’all’s breaths and fix yourselves. Miguel stood up from the bench, a shit eating grin on his face as he looked at how hot and bothered you became. “perdón, hermosa (sorry, beautiful), just can’t control myself around you,” he leans down to catch you in one last, tongue-eating kiss, pulling back with a big pop!, “Let me know when you two are done, yea?” He whispers again, and you nod at him, your eyes still hooded and lips bruised from his kisses. After he kisses your forehead, you watch him leave the room at the same time Gabriella comes in.

“I’m back!… Are you ok, Miss. y/n?” She says, her cute face contorted in genuine concern.

“Oh! Uh,” you say, fixing your hair and finally catching your breath, ”I’m fine, mamita! Never been better… So where were we?”

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

“Aww, do you have to leave now?” Gabriella pouts. You brush a strand of hair behind her ear when you bend over to face her, the three of you standing in the living room near the front door.

“I’m sorry, mama, but I have to. We’ll have another lesson tomorrow!” You say softly, trying to make her feel better.

“Yea, but… but… I like being with you a lot.” You could’ve exploded from the cuteness overload. You felt so bad for leaving her, especially on her birthday.

“Say what… I have to be in the theater in a couple hours to get to my curtain call, however… I coulddd give a certain birthday girl a private tour of the stage…” you tap your chin and act mysterious.

Gabriella gasps, her mouth agape, “You can do that?!” You laugh at her shocked expression. “If your papa is okay with it?” You say, looking up at Miguel. “That would be great. What do we say, Gabri?” “Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!!” She hugs you, you embracing her tiny form. “You’re so very welcome, mama, I’ll see you tonight then, okay?” You cup her face when she looks up at you.

“Okay! I’m gonna go pick my outfit! I’m so excited! I can’t believe I get to see the show again!” She says, pulling away and running up the stairs. You stand back up, smiling at Miguel. Miguel looks at the top of the stairs to wait for Gabriella to be in her room until he walks up to you, placing his hands on your hips. “That was very generous of you, sweetie, but you’re already doing so much for her by giving her these lessons.” He says, his hand under your chin, his thumb caressing it.

“Well, the lessons are your birthday present to her, so this is my present to her.” You say cheerily. “Thank you for the food, by the way, it was all delicious. Not as good as my cooking, pero… casi casi (but almost),” you say half jokingly. Miguel lets out a chuckle, “Oh, I’m taking that as a challenge. I’ll have to try it to believe it.”

“Someday you will.” “I look forward to it, hermosa,” he winks at you as he opens the door. “See you later then, cariño (honey).”

He’s confused as he watches you give him a small wave and take one step outside, but you’re stopped when he grabs your hand, turning you back toward him.

“You didn’t think you were leaving without a goodbye kiss, did you?” He pulls you back into him, wrapping his arms around you once more and placing his lips on yours. This one was much more sweet and tender compared to the ones shared in the piano room. Fireworks went off in your head, along with the smell of his after shave still lingering. “There. Now you can go.” You giggle as he gives your butt a light squeeze, “See you later, Miguel.”

Miguel watches with gratification as you walk into the car he had ordered for you. Now he was the one who couldn’t get his eyes off your ass. You sit in the car practically glowing from what had just happened.

That wasn’t too bad for your first kiss. Well, kisses, to be exact.

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

The show went as programmed, another successful performance for the books. Once you entered your dressing room, you found a gigantic bouquet of flowers and a box.

Hmm, I Wonder who sent them.

In the middle of appreciating the flowers, you hear a knock on your door.

“Just a second!” You fix yourself in the mirror suspecting who it was, patting a napkin on your face as to take off any performance sweat and reapplying perfume.

You go to open the door to find Miguel, “Good Evening, Mr. O’Hara.” “Good evening, y/n. Mind if I come in for a moment?” You two play the parts of patron and cast member convincingly, holding back mischievous smiles as other crew and cast members hurry by for the resetting of the stage and whatnot.

Miguel steps in, and you close the door behind him. While you’re locking the door, he grabs you by the waist, you squeal in surprise.

“You did so good up there, baby,” he wraps his arms around you, your back against his torso, smothering you in kisses anywhere he could get his lips on, “eres tan chula,” smack!, “tan talentosa,” smack!, “Mm, y tan deliciosa”, smack! You break out into a fit of giggles. (So pretty, so talented, and so delicious)

You reach your hands up to his face, running your fingers through his silver fox hair, “gracias… y Gabriella?” (Thank you, and Gabriella?).

“She’s with her grandmother. I invited her to come with us since it’s Gabi’s birthday. You like your present?” He motions at the box. “Oh! I didn’t even get a chance to open it!” He frees you from his grasp to let you grab the box, and you open it. Your mouth drops.

“Miguel, this is…” your face goes from surprise to worry, ”ay dios mio, (oh my god) how much was-“ “Shh, don’t worry about that, princesa. Ven, (come) lemme put it on you.” You give him a scowl before turning around and letting him put it on.

You had to admit, this diamond necklace did look gorgeous on you. You tried to not think about what quadruple-digit number he spent getting you this. You both stand in front of the vanity mirror.

“Look how pretty my girl is,” his voice drips with seduction, his hands falling down your body. His lips find your neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin. You get goosebumps from the way he calls you ‘my girl’. You sigh as his lips work their magic. He sits down on the velvety stool behind him, pulling you down with him, “Don’t even lift a muscle, sweetheart, just sit there n look pretty for me.”

You let out a small yelp when he lifts your legs, using his own to spread them. You can feel himself harden against your lower back, the sensation instantly making you wet. One of his hands steadies you on his lap, the other one palming your now pulsating cunt, clothed by a pair of booty shorts and fishnets. His hand snakes into them, finding your wet and gushy pussy. He finds your throbbing clit, rubbing tiny circles on it. You bite your lip, holding back moans. “Aw, mi nena tan chula is so sensitive” (my pretty girl), Desperate for his touch, you grind against his hand, your mouth falling open and hands squeezing onto his thick thighs for dear life. “Coño, mami… so ready for me, aren’t you? Hm? Toda mojada para mi? (All wet for me?)”, Miguel slides the shorts down your legs, and using both hands, he rips a hole in the fishnets so that he can have a first-class view of your 5-star pussy, the mirror showing a leak of arousal flowing down your entrance and onto his pants, causing you to whine.

“Awww fuck, it’s even prettier than I thought.” He breathlessly growls in your ear, his middle and ring finger finding your clit again.

“Ay, M-Miguel, yes, Ungh~ feel s- s’good,” you try to form a sentence, but it’s difficult with the way Miguel’s calloused, thick fingers rub against your womanhood, his other hand playing with your nipple. He gently plays with the erected nipple between his index and thumb, occasionally pulling it and rubbing it, sending yummy jolts down to your pussy.

He then inserts the two fingers, feeling around your walls and going in and out, “Gotta get my pretty girl ready for my cock, hm? Don’t wanna hurt her, oh nooo.” He coos, kissing his teeth with a ‘tsk tsk tsk’.

Miguel sees your hips stuttering against his fingers, taking that you’re close. His dick is already leaking from how much your hips were moving against it. There’s no doubt there’s a wet spot on his pants. He quickens his speed, your juices beginning to squirt out from your drenched cunt, droplets landing on the mirror before you.

“Ay, Miguel! Oh my god!” You whine out, head falling back on his shoulder. Miguel lets out a sigh as you squirt out your climax, rubbing your clit side to side as it sprays. Once you finish, he displays his hand in front of you, which glistens under the vanity lights, “mira mami, look what a mess you made… fuck.” (Look, mami)

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ “Aw, sweet heart, you’re so cute… no necesitas disculparte (no need to apologize), I love that you can do that,” he purrs into your ear as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them, tasting them.

“Mm, Sabes tan dulce…” (you taste so sweet).

He gently picks you up and sits you on the vanity. As much as he wanted to go to town on your pussy and feast until he drank up every drop, his dick was basically hurting, that’s how much it ached to be inside you.

Your gaze follows the sound of a zip! And your eyes widen at the sight. Miguel bunches his briefs right under his heavy balls, a long, thick, angry cock springing against his happy trail. He sees your obvious concern, bringing a hand to your face.

“Everything alright?” He looks at you, brows knitted together and his voice is soft.

“Yes, it’s just… this is my first time.” You nervously chuckle.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, “please know it’s okay to not be ready. I want you to be comfortable.” He places a kiss on your forehead. You look up at him, using those doe eyes of yours on him, “Please, Miguel… I want it.”

“Are you sure?” He asks again. “Yes, Miguel…” you say his name sensually, your hands traveling down his chest, down to his erect cock, giving it a stroke, your thumb teasingly swirling the precum on his tip.

“I need it.”

Miguel bites his lip, jaw clenching from the softness of your hands against his pulsing length, his auburn eyes growing hungry.

“I’ll go slow, honey. If it hurts too much, just let me know, m’kay? ” You give him a soft smile, and you both kiss tenderly. He takes a second to take your shirt off, ogling at your perfect tits. You then pout and tug at his shirt, which he follows along, revealing his god-like body. You didn’t care that you drooled. He then looks down, your legs already wrapped around his slutty waist, leveling himself to your entrance. Holding it in his hand, he slaps his fat cock against your pussy a couple times, the wet noises making both of you even more turned on. Your mouth falls open again, his plump tip spreading your lips with ease. Miguel hisses as he goes in deeper, trying his absolute best to go slow and not ram you right then and there. Your pussy tightens around him, feeling his veins pulsate against your walls.

“Fffuck, so tight, baby…o-oh fuck-“ Miguel bottoms out, staying there for a second, allowing you to adjust. The pain was short, quickly turning to pleasure as he slowly began a rhythm. He makes love to you slowly and deeply, each thrust hitting the deepest part of you. “Taking me so- Mmfuck! So well, sweetie, you’re doing s’good,” he says, his forehead against yours. He was so big, you could’ve sworn you could see a bulge in your stomach. He placed a hand on it, making you whimper from the sensation. “Look at that, baby, look so good all filled up with my cock.”

You blush, wanting to cower and turn your face away. You bite on your bottom lip again, muffling your screams and cries. “Mi amor, no hagas eso (don’t do that), breathe, baby, breathe. Need you to relax, mkay?”

You turn back to him, trying your best to maintain eye contact. He brings his thumb down to rub your puffy clit, the sensation relaxing your weeping, abused cunt, “Atta girl, thaaat’s a good girl. Look at me, baby. Aw, yea, wanna see that pretty face.” His cock was able to slide in and out, your pussy greedily sucking him in. Your high-pitched moans were music to his ears.

“M-Miguel, p-please,”, you’re barely able to get out your words, your voice trembling, “si, bebe, que tu quiere? Anything you want, baby.” (Yes, baby, what do you want?)

“Mas rapido.. mas duro, por favor, please, just- just use me, please, daddy?” You were able to finally get it out. You wanted nothing more than for Miguel to just pound you and use you like his toy. (Faster, harder, please).

“Whatever you want, baby girl, daddy’s gonna take care of you, gonna make you feel sooo good.”

Without another second to spare, Miguel pulls back with just his tip inside, and pounds back into you like no other. You scream, tears running down your face as Miguel has his way with you. He kisses those tears away, murmuring, “I know, I know”’s and “I’m sorry”’s into your ear. The vanity shakes vigorously, hitting the wall repeatedly, almost breaking in the process. You hold onto his broad shoulders like your life depended on it. Your bouncing tits catch his attention, and without hesitation, takes one into his mouth, sucking and licking like a wild man.

“God, daddy fucking loves these tits. Look so fucking pretty getting railed while wearing the necklace he gotchu.” you hear muffled against your chest. As if you weren’t stimulated enough, he adds his finger back on your clit, making your eyes roll back from all the different points of pleasure. He lifts his face from your hardened nipple and says, “This pussy’s mine. This juicy ass is mine,” and you feel a loud smack! of his hand on your ass, letting out a whimper,

“You’re all mine. Who’s this pussy belong to, hm?”

“Ugh, you, daddy, I’m all yours! Please, don’t stop, please please please-“ you start sounding like a broken record, muttering ‘daddy’ over and over. “Ay, papi, estoy cerca… i'm gonna come…” (I’m close) you cry, the name fueling Miguel’s drive, so he quickened his pace, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your cries filling the room. He growls into your neck, biting there,

“That’s right, sweetie, come on daddy’s cock.”

You could care less if the whole theater heard you, your virginity was being taken by the man of your dreams. Plus, it seemed to be getting Miguel riled up even more. He adored your cute sounds.

Once you reach your orgasm, you let out a long whine, your mouth in an o-shape, but Miguel keeps going, riding out his own high, “fuck…almost there baby, just a little longer, I promise… you can do that for daddy, yea? Ohhh I know you can, sweetie.” He coos, drowning you in lazy, sloppy kisses.

When Miguel feels he’s about to burst, he pulls out. It isn’t long before you feel his warm seed spill onto your stomach, Miguel’s groans clouding your mind as he empties himself onto you.

He stands up straight, taking in the gorgeous view of his kid on your lower body, your pussy still crying from his massive cock, and your face in total euphoria. You try to sit up, but he stops you, “no, princesita, déjame limpiarte primero,” (let me clean you first), he goes to grab a few napkins on your vanity, wiping you clean of his and your juices.

“You ok?” He caressed your face, brushing your hair away from it. You managed a weak, frail smile.

You poor, sweet thing.

“Yes, I’m okay,” He smiles before placing a sweet kiss on your lips, “Not sure if I’ll be able to walk, but I’m more than okay with that.” He chuckled.

“You did so well. So proud of my girl.” He says with a smirk in a low, husky tone, then playfully licking your lips which makes you giggle. He takes you into his embrace, your chests rising and falling together as he plants kisses on your shoulder.

You both flinch when you hear a knock at your dressing room door and the voice of a little girl right outside.

Y’all almost forgot about Gabriella and her grandma.

Oops.

——————————————————————

Still feral abt this man. Also, can y’all tell I’m a music major? ☠️☠️☠️

Hope you liked it! <3

Until the next chapter <3

Mwah <3

Ch.4

The Cutie Patootie Tag list:

@honey-eyed-munson

@migueloharastruelove

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 3

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: General audiences, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 16.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Flirting, discussions of deceased soulmates. Not too many warnings for this one, although Jack and shopping is a personal fantasy of mine. Summary: A party and a day out together give you some time to get to know Jack a little bit better. Notes: Sorry for the post delay this week, everyone, but thank you all for being so supportive. Health is a struggle but fiction is a beautiful escape.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Jack eyes Champ, frowning slightly at the older man as he shoots him a grin across the room. He's been cagey lately, smirking at him like he knows a secret that he won't tell Jack. Something that he knows drives the senior agent crazy. Instead of walking across the room and demanding he tell him what is on his mind, Jack turns towards you. Watching as you meet Ginger's soulmate, Gabriella.

Just a little get together, Diana had said when she called you, smiling down the phone as she issued the invitation. To celebrate! Well, Diana’s idea of small was two or three dozen people - all Statesman employees and their families - gathered at the Rogers’ house for a weekend barbecue. It seems like the whirlwind of introductions may never stop, but this bright and happy woman named Gabriella and the two children that she seems to be an expert at wrangling just put you at ease. Introducing yourself seems a little redundant since this is a party to welcome you specifically, but the kids don’t care - just as kids tend not to. They wave hello and ask their mother if they can go play with the other kids, and are off like a shot the instant they get a ‘yes’.

“They’re sweet,” you say, smiling despite how much you miss your niece and nephew. It’s only been five days since you saw them last, but that’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing them ever.

"They are wild." Gabriella corrects you with a laugh, looking after her kids with the fondness of a parent of someone well accustomed to their antics. "But they promised to behave under threat of torture."

“I wish that worked on my nephew.” When she pats the arm of the chair beside her, you sit down gratefully. Deciding to dress up for this party shouldn’t have included heels, that’s your own fault. “When my niece is finally old enough to be his sidekick, everyone’s going to be in trouble.”

"Menaces, huh?" She chuckles and sips her spiked lemonade before she shrugs, keeping an eye on her own troublemakers. "That just means they will have each other's backs when they are older."

“I hope so.” They have good examples to follow, at least, with how close you are to your siblings. Even if you’re not physically close to each other anymore. “So…this is what counts as a ‘little’ get together around here?” Diana had poured you a spiked lemonade a few moments ago, and you’d added peach nectar as your fruit flavor of choice from the bar of fruit flavored syrups and liqueurs by the large bar set up in the kitchen counter. It’s the best lemonade you’ve ever had in your life.

"Any excuse to have a party is Diana's reason for living." Gabriella jokes, motioning to where she is fluttering around talking to people with the largest smile on her face. Her husband ambles behind her, much slower in pace as he allows her to do as she pleases with a fond smile on his own face and a whiskey in his hand.

“A woman after my own heart,” you laugh, looking over in time to see a young man maybe a few years younger than yourself receive an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek and be shooed inside with lipstick on his cheek. “Their son?” It’s not exactly a stretch to guess. He has Champ’s stance and his mother’s thick head of hair.

"Bobby." She confirms with a nod. "He’s back home for a bit after being overseas for the last two years."

“Something fun, I hope.” But you won’t pry, enjoying the easy atmosphere on this sunny afternoon.

"Oh yeah, he's been traveling for Statesman and has been a little homesick." She murmurs, aware that you aren't aware of the real reason for international travel from some of the Statesman employees. Her wife had filled her in before the party.

“I like that it’s a family operation.” Turning back to Gabriella, you take a sip of your lemonade and smile. “Do you mind if I ask how long you’ve been here?” You don’t know their story - her and Astrid - but as the newest arrival to what Champ and Diana jovially call ‘the Statesman family’ you feel like you want to know everything.

Gabriella smiles, looking over at Astrid with stars in her eyes. “We found each other about seven years ago. Damn lucky honestly. What with–” She bites her lip, knowing she shouldn’t say the real reason. “Astrid doesn’t have any scars.”

“I noticed that a lot of people don’t seem to have tattoos, either.” It’s just a vague observation, but coming from the culinary world where so many of your coworkers have large pieces or even whole sleeves, it surprises you. “I guess I’m alone in that one.”

“Yeah.” Gabriella gives a slightly nervous chuckle. “There’s actually an incentive to have them removed here. You should look into it. If you want, of course.” If she could get you to remove the tattoos without any suspicion, Jack would be in the clear.

“Why would I want to do that?” Your left hand moves protectively to cover your right elbow, and you think back to your contract to make sure you haven't glazed over anything. There had certainly been a dress code portion of the employee handbook, but nothing about tattoos or piercings. Not even a note on ‘acceptable’ hair colors.

“I meant no offense.” She immediately back pedals and gives a small smile. “I’ve just known plenty of people here who have decided they don't want their tattoos anymore. People change what they once liked…you know.”

“Oh, sure.” That’s true, certainly, and you relax a little. “I guess that’s fair. I just can’t see a single reason I would want to get rid of mine. I just made sure to get it in a place that I could cover, ya know? Just in case. Some fine dining restaurants don’t like to have them showing.”

“Of course.” She bobbles her head quickly, not wanting to alienate you with a thoughtless comment. She wasn’t supposed to know that you are Jack’s soulmate but Astrid had let it slip. “I know all about the ‘professional’ world. I was in the corporate rat race before I found Astrid.”

“Then that makes you a much braver woman than I.” You laugh and sit back in your chair. “I don’t know how you survived it, honestly.” All that corporate nonsense does nothing for you and it never has - no part of your extraordinary life is ever going to revolve around file numbers.

“Oh I’m much happier now with our little house to keep and our kids to wrangle.” She promises. “And just listening to Astrid talk about work gives me all the adventure I could ever want.”

“It’s not that little.” No, you see their house in the walk to work every morning now, and it certainly isn’t petite like yours is. Not that you need more than that for just you and the Dormouse. “You’ve got your slice of heaven, I think. It’s kind of…” You shrug, figuring you’re probably over sharing, but it’s always coming out of your mouth. “Kind of what I always wanted. That idyllic family life.”

“I never knew I wanted it.” Gabriella has no problem admitting that she had never imagined domestic bliss or being a stay-at-home mom when she was climbing the corporate ladder. “Now, I couldn’t imagine anything else.”

“I wouldn’t give up my career for anything.” Anybody who asked you to would be in for a rude awakening. “But a family? That’s…that’s still the dream.” Even with your soulmate, the idea of finding someone isn’t ridiculous. Plenty of people do it every day…right?

“I understand.” Gabriella looks over to where her youngest has spotted Jack and is currently climbing up his leg. Jack smiles and laughs as he swings the boy up onto his shoulders, but there is the underlying sadness underneath. “Sometimes the dreams are all you have.”

“Sometimes they are.” Too lost in your own melancholy overlong losing your soulmate, you don’t see Gabriella’s eyes move to Jack with her son. You don’t even notice Astrid and Tex step up onto the porch together.

“Well, look at you.” Tex whistles as he looks you up and down. “Ain’t you pretty as a picture? You having fun?”

“Hey you.” The sound of his voice is familiar - one of the only things that is familiar around here - and you perk up a little to see two familiar faces. “You made it.” To be honest, you didn’t really know who Diana had invited, but you figured it was a good chance that Tex would be here considering he had been your flight companion and part of your testing team. He seems to be involved in everything the same way Jack is.

“Damn near didn’t.” Tequila admits. “Amsterda—” He cuts off abruptly and shakes his head. “I mean, an armadillo managed to get into one of the storage houses.” He covers his slip up with a mile wide grin. “But I made it.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen you in days?” You pop up from your seat to give him a hug and choose not to say anything about the fact that he was definitely about to say something else. “Because of an armadillo?”

“Tricky suckers.” He huffs, giving you an extra squeeze before he lets go of you. Gabriella sends Astrid a pointed look and then glances at Tequila.

“If I find one in my garden, I’m calling you.” It’s barely a threat, and you don’t have a proper garden yet, but you’ll get there eventually.

“You can call me even if you don’t.” Tex tells you, making Astrid clear her throat and capture everyone’s attention. “Should we get something to eat?” She asks when your head turns towards her.

“Lead the way.” Champ seems to have deputized his son to help him look after the large grill on the other side of the yard, and Jack is nearby with a drink in hand when the four of you approach together.

Astrid and Gabriella whisper together ahead of you as you make your way towards the tables laden down with sides and desserts. None of them yours yet, but a potluck off all those who wanted to contribute.

“I wish Diana hadn’t insisted on just being a guest.” Walking beside Tex, you look over at the table of various desserts with affection. Sweets are what you do, after all. “I would have made a couple of cakes to bring.”

"You aren't supposed to bring food to your own shindig." Jack huffs, walking up toward the group and nods towards you. "It's not how it's done here in the south, sugar."

“I guess I have a few things to learn.” You half step forward to offer him a hug, having left things on a good note after your night at the bar earlier in the week, but you’re not still quite sure what Jack thinks of you and you don’t want to make things weird - so instead you end up just stepping forward awkwardly and looking like your arms don’t work properly. “How have you been, Jack?”

He knows that you are expecting a hug and doesn't know quite how to ask for one. It's slightly awkward, especially since Jack just came back from the funeral of your former soulmate. It had taken a couple of days for his family to be notified and then another week for the body to be shipped back to his hometown. Jack hadn't introduced himself, just stood off a respectful distance while the man he had taken a future from had been lowered into the ground. "As good as I can be." He tells you, looping his arm around you and squeezing you to his side in a friendly manner, although his hand is lower than appropriate on your waist.

“I hope nothing’s wrong?” The side hug is a little awkward but there’s warmth to it - or at least there is to you. It wouldn’t be the first time you imagined that someone enjoyed your company more than they actually did. “Sweets can solve any myriad of problems, you know.”

"Nothing that a party with everyone I care about can't fix." Jack hums, a flash of pain that seems bittersweet and vague for Abigail not being here is almost as a reflex now. He suppresses it and grins. "But I'm eager for another sample of your cakes."

“I’m going to start working on the menu next week,” you tell everyone, chest absolutely bursting with pride. “So I’m going to need everybody to stop by the kitchen a couple of times to try out what I’ll be baking. As many times as you want to come by, I’d love to get the feedback.”

"Everyday." The promise pops out of his lips before he could ever even think about not speaking.

Not expecting such an immediate and earnest response, you practically beam. “Then I’ll start with cakes. By the end of the week you’ll never want to go near buttercream again.”

"Don't tell him that." Tequila rolls his eyes and shoulder checks Jack playfully. "This man keeps bags of candy in his desk all the time."

“Oh yeah?” You raise an eyebrow at Jack and smirk. “What’s your favorite?” Sometimes the smallest thing can be a big inspiration, so you’re never going to shy away from asking the question.

Jack frowns at Tequila for ratting him out and huffs. "I like Snickers." He admits with a modest shrug of his shoulders.

“Noted.” The urge to do something in Jack’s honor on your menu is seemingly expanding far beyond his affinity for your tea sandwiches, but on the outside all you do is smile. You haven’t had a crush like this in ages, and it doesn’t help that you’re nursing one for Tex at the same time.

"I like Zero bars." Tex adds, his brows lifted hopefully as he pushes his hands into his pockets. He really likes you, drawn to you in a way he hasn't felt before and he wants to ask you out.

“Which are, arguably, a white chocolate version of a Snickers.” It starts to turn your wheels even more, wondering if you can’t do something with caramel and peanuts that uses two types of chocolate.

"I keep telling you that." Jack smirks at Tex and shakes his head. "Boy doesn't know anything."

“It just means they can work well together.” Completely oblivious to any undertones in the conversation, you just shrug your shoulders and let your wheels grind on a recipe idea while the group of you moves up along the picnic tables to get something to eat.

Tequila frowns at Jack but he doesn’t feel guilty. The boy needs to sniff around somewhere else. It’s obvious you aren’t interested and you’re grieving your soulmate.

“What in the hell is going on?” Ginger whispers, hiding in Jack’s ear as Gabriella and Tequila whisk you toward one end of the tables to the immense batch of tamales that Ginger’s wife made for the occasion.

“What are you talking about?” Jack asks, feigning ignorance. “We’re at a party. That’s what’s going on.”

“You and Tequila.” She fixes him with a frown and pushes her glasses up on her nose a little. “You’re not normally this subtle, I’ll give you that. But it’s like watching peacocks.”

“Peacocks?” Jack frowns and looks over at where you and Tequila have your heads together over the table and there are the sounds of laughter. “You’re imagining things.” He scoffs. “Nobody’s actin’ like a peacock. Just bein’ friendly to the girl.”

“Jack.” Ginger frowns. She wears her cover for her friends on her sleeve and makes no apologies for it. “I know you might not…all things considered, I get it. Not saying anything to her. But please tell me that you told him?”

“Sure I did.” Jack nods, rolling his eyes. “Showed him the damn tattoos the day Champ benched me.”

“But you’re sure he knows it’s her?” She asks, searching his face with concern. When he rolls his eyes, her eyes pinch shut immediately. “It’s February, Jack. It might be warm enough for a backyard barbecue, but we’re all still wearing long sleeves.”

“Come on Ging– he went to pick her up.” Jack scoffs. “Don’t you think Champ told him that he was on an escort mission for my supposed soulmate?

“Honestly?” She shrugs, biting the inside of her lip while she thinks. “I think Champ told as few people as possible. So maybe he didn’t.” There is nothing supposed about you, but this isn’t the moment for that argument.

“Don’t see why it matters.” Liar. The voice in his head screams it but Jack just ignores it and forges ahead. “They are friendly. End of story.”

“If you say so.” The last thing she wants is to start an argument, so she’ll let it go for now. But Ginger knows Jack and Tequila and she knows their habits - and you’re getting at least one request for a date for Valentine’s Day next week. She just doesn’t know which one of them will be first.

Jack is happy she’s willing to drop it. Uncomfortable with the conversation, although he does side eye Tequila before he dismisses it. It’s not like he has a claim over you even if it was true. You aren’t his soulmate and there’s no way he’s yours. Not when his heart died years ago.

It takes two full plates before you’re finally stuffed, sitting in the afternoon sun in Champ’s backyard as most of the party has migrated indoors in anticipation of that same sun setting. There are still a few stragglers outside and you’re happy to be one of them - enjoying the sun’s rays while they’re still there to beat down on you. It’s been a lively afternoon and you’ve met a lot of very nice people, but stealing a few minutes alone has been nice, too.

Jack notices you off alone, nursing his beer as he watches you. Wondering what you think about this place, everyone here. He huffs to himself and stands, closing the gap between the two of you with no clue as to why. “Appreciating the silence or wantin’ some company?” He asks, knowing that if you want to be alone he’ll respect that.

“I wouldn’t say no to company.” Shifting to one side on the little bench you’ve been occupying, you make room for him to sit. You’ve always come to the conclusion that it would take a hell of a lot for you to say no to Jack.

He tries to tell himself that he shouldn’t be so pleased that you accepted his presence, but that doesn’t stop the quiet pride filling his chest. “No regrets so far?” He asks, looking over the party. Champ would have found something to make you stay, but he’s curious as to you wanting to be here. “Get your stuff easy enough?”

“I’m planning on running out tomorrow for a few things, but honestly the house is great.” It’s not like you owned that much to begin with, and the house came fully furnished. You’re just going to go wandering around housewares stores tomorrow to pick up some personal touches and to try some local restaurants while you’re out. “Everybody’s been so nice. Astrid actually sent flowers after I settled in, and Champ’s given me a key to the restaurant so I can be in the kitchen whenever I want. It’s all…pretty perfect.”

Jack knows that Champ might have put a tracker in the keys that he gave you. But he doesn’t like the idea of you going to town without some protection. “Want some company? Tomorrow?” Jack hears the edge to his voice and scolds himself for acting like an idiot. “I mean, I’ve got some errands to run and you can put whatever you buy into the back of the Bronco.” He tells himself that he’s responsible, at least until your tattoo on his skin goes away. Still convinced it’s the universe’s idea of a sick joke.

“You wouldn’t mind?” It’s not flirting, you remind yourself, although your heart does seem to pick up speed a little at the offer. “I mean…I was going to have lunch out while I was picking things up. So…my treat? As a thank you for driving?”

It’s his immediate reaction to protest. To remind you that his daddy would box his ears, but he catches your eyes. Pride. He’s more than a little familiar with the trait and he sees that you aren’t one to just expect someone to go and do. That you need to contribute to the outing. So he nods. “If you want, I can take you to my favorite country kitchen.” He offers. “They do a buffet of all the things folks love around here. Give you a feel for the area.”

“I’d love that.” It’s exactly the kind of thing you were hoping to find for yourself, but doing it with him sounds infinitely better. “Most of what I know about Southern cooking comes from my grandma, so I definitely want to try as many local places as I can.”

“Best food ever, although, come hungry.” He warns you. “They will be asking why you aren’t going back for thirds.”

“You’re assuming I wouldn’t happily eat thirds,” you laugh, amused by his serious tone. “I’ll go back every week if it’s that good.”

“Have you ever had cornbread so thin it’s like a pancake and fried until it’s crispy on the edges?” Jack asks you with a grin.

“We have something like that at home.” Johnnycakes are a New England classic, and you fell in love with the quick and tasty cornmeal pancakes during culinary school. “But I can’t wait to try the Southern version.” It sounds like it would be perfect for a caviar service if the tea room ever got that fancy…

“That with a piece of catfish fried to perfection is just like momma used to make.” He confides, winking at you playfully.

“Sounds like heaven.” One of these days you really have to stop shivering whenever he winks at you. But it won’t be today.

“That sounds like a plan.” Jack hates shopping, but he’s not going to let you go out to town by yourself. Or with Tequila, although he knows the boy is leaving on another mission.

“I haven’t lived on my own for a while, so there’s just some finishing touches I don’t have,” you explain, wondering why you feel the need to actually explain yourself at all. It just sort of…compels itself out of your mouth.

“Oh?” It almost startles him how quickly he focuses on that. “Lived with a lover?” He asks. “Statesman will let you bring someone to live with you if you’re trying the long distance thing. It doesn’t work - trust me.”

“I know it doesn’t.” While you didn’t really have any intention of talking about it today, there’s a Nudging feeling inside you that just wants to spill everything to Jack. To lay yourself proverbially bare and let this whole new beginning at Statesman be made of honesty instead of hiding pieces of yourself away. “I—a few years ago, I was with this person. Someone I thought was really going to last, ya know? I mean it wasn’t my soulmate but we had been together for years. Anyway…they got offered a job in New York. And we had all these plans for me to drive down to them and visit on off days and to make things work and they just…” You sigh, hating that everything that happened with your ex still hurts so badly. “It only took them two weeks to find someone else. So I left the apartment we’d been living in with our other friend and moved back in with my family. My little sister had just given birth to my nephew and every pair of hands that could help was welcome.” Rubbing your eyes, you huff ruefully and shrug your shoulders. “Sorry if that’s oversharing, I guess.”

“It’s not.” Jack wants to reach out and hug you, and that’s exactly why he doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve to comfort you and he doesn’t trust himself to not try. “Whoever they were, they were an idiot.” He can’t imagine just finding someone else. Not when you claim to love them. It’s why he’s been very careful to make sure that what he did have was very surface level physical pleasure. He hasn’t had an intimate connection since Abigail. Not real intimacy.

“They’re somebody else’s problem now.” If you wanted to, you could probably argue to yourself that Jack moved closer with this small moment of comfort, but you don’t want to tease yourself like that. You do like him, but it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t see you as more than a potential friend, so you don’t want to push anything. “I appreciate that.”

"Hopefully they step on Legos in the dark for the rest of their life." Jack jokes.

“You are cruel.” It draws a laugh from you anyway, a grateful feeling from being supported in a moment of emotional need. Things like this are easy with Jack - no matter how nervous you may get from your little crush, the softest moments are always easy. “But…on point, honestly. A lifetime of barefoot Lego steps would be pretty suitable.”

He laughs and feels like the moment is light and easy with you. Letting it settle over him like a soft blanket.

“Oh…” The memory hits you immediately and out of nowhere, as you sit in a moment of comfortable silence with Jack. “Tomorrow…I was going to go dress shopping, also. I completely forgot. So…if that doesn’t exactly sound like fun for you, I’ll totally get it.” It would be a disappointment to not spend the day with Jack now that you’ve made the plan, but you can’t imagine that womens’ clothes shopping holds any great appeal for him.

“I don’t mind going dress shoppin’.” Jack shrugs. “You know that it could be fun.” He hums, unable to resist imagining you in a sleek and sexy dress.

“I said yes to this wedding invitation ages ago and I just…haven't had any time to prepare.” The impulse to continue to explain yourself is obviously strong. “The plan was just to ignore my plus one and drive down to Boston on the day, but now it’ll be a flight and a hotel and all kinds of craziness and I—” You shrug. “They’re family, so I can’t just not go. So…I have to find a dress.”

“Wedding huh?” He relaxes slightly and shrugs. “You don’t have to ignore the plus one, I’m sure someone would love to go to a wedding.”

“Well, I’m friendly with about six people at the moment, and four of them are married couples.” Hope flames so strong in your chest that you’re sure he must see it. Maybe misinterpreted as a flash of desperation, but that isn’t it. You’re just…so fucking drawn to him. “So unless you or Tex is willing, I’ll just hang out with my siblings that night like I’ve been planning.”

“When and where is this little shindig happening?” Jack asks, smirking as he imagines perching you on his arm for a wedding and seeing how the rest of your family is. Even though the thought confuses him.

“The Whitney Hotel in Boston, a week from today.” Hope. It flares bright and beautiful in your whole body but you try not to look too much like a fawning schoolgirl. Without knowing how old Jack is, you would guess that he had about ten years on you, and you don’t want to come across as immature when you’re just being sincere.

Instantly, it’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. Except it’s no team celebration for winning a playoff or prank by Tequila. It’s the horror of realizing that you would have met the man you were supposed to be with if Jack hadn’t been there two weeks ago. Guilt curls in Jack’s stomach and the barbecue and baked beans he had eaten along with about a fourth of the dessert table threatens to make a reappearance. “Sounds- sounds good, sugar.” Jack manages to croak as he leaps ungracefully to his feet. “Excuse me.” He can’t even tip his hat towards you before he is rushing across the yard like the hounds of hell are after him.

******

“I miss you guys.” Hours later, on the phone with your sister, you still haven’t quite shaken the unease left behind by Jack’s abrupt exit from the party. Everyone has started going their separate ways by evening time and you had come home with the intention of starting to write out a shopping list for tomorrow, only to be interrupted by a call from Eliza. “How are my little prince and princess doing?”

“Missing their favorite aunt.” She huffs, even though she’s laughing down the phone. “Driving me crazy and asking when they are going to see you again.”

“At Cassie’s wedding.” You promise, shifting the phone in your hand as you look out into your backyard from the bedroom window seat. “I’m not skipping out on my family just because I moved.”

“I felt like you weren’t going to miss it.” She agrees, happy to hear it. “Have you found your dress already?”

“I’m going shopping tomorrow.” Obviously not with her, like you had been planning, but you’re still going to get it done. Even if Jack backs out of coming with you after leaving the party on such a weird note, you still need to go. “I need a couple more things for the house, so tomorrow is going to be dresses and housewares.”

“I’m so excited to see you.” She huffs, even though it’s only been a couple of days. “Are you settling in okay? I’m just amazed that the job comes with housing.”

“It’s like a little company town out here. There’s a whole neighborhood of full time employees and we all have these cute little houses and manicured yards. And the guest room is open any time you want to come visit.” Other places might have made it suspect or oppressive, but Statesman seemed to thrive on being a family company. “The owner even threw a little welcome party this afternoon. Backyard barbecue, amazing drinks, lots of people just hanging out and kids playing. I met most of the higher ups.”

“It sounds amazing. Friendly atmosphere plus booze?” She laughs. “Tell me the men are handsome.”

“I—” You laugh before you can stop yourself, glancing out the window again into the backyard of the house next door - owned by a woman you met today who works in HR. “Yeah. I’m not even going to be coy about it. Some of these men are stunning.”

“Really?” She knows you can hear the wicked grin on her face through the phone. “Tell me allllllll about them. I need a little cowboy in my life.” She laughs again, well aware she’s never even really interacted with one before but you are in the thick of them apparently.

“So…there are two that stick out.” The only person in the world who knows all your stupid relationship and crush bullshit is your sister. She’s been your best friend for your whole life and never wavered. “They both work security, and they’re…” This time when you laugh it’s a slightly embarrassed sound. “They’re really close friends. So I’m trying not to rock any boats by showing interest.”

“Let me guess, there is one of them that’s older and you like that one best?” She knows her sister better than anyone and whether you want to admit it or not, you have an eye for older men.

“Shut up.” There’s no heat whatsoever behind the scolding and you end up laughing at yourself, appreciating that Eliza isn’t beating around the bush with you. “There is, but if you meet him you have to swear not to embarrass me.”

“Ohhhh, I can meet him?” She asks evilly. “Are you bringing him to the wedding?”

“Maybe.” A part of you instantly wishes you hadn’t said anything, but you know that Eliza always has the best advice. “I don’t know. He offered to go shopping with me tomorrow and come to the wedding but then immediately got weird about it and I don’t know what to think. I’m getting super mixed signals from him.”

“Why do you think he got weird about it? Most men get weird about the wedding part, but you said he basically agreed to go with you, right?” She asks.

“He offered, I didn’t even really ask.” The kids in the yard next door are cackling, laughing as they play with their dog, and you watch them so that you don’t relocate to the living room windows downstairs - which gives you a view of Jack’s house. “It’s like…remember I told you I went to a bar earlier in the week and cleaned up some bikers at a pool game?” At the time, you hadn’t exactly told her the entire story.

“Yeah?” On her end of the phone, she ticks her eyebrow up curiously. “Did you go with old handsome?”

“He’s not old!” You both laugh anyway. “But yes. I went with Jack.” There is a longer-than-necessary pause while you debate with yourself, but you end up shrugging your shoulders. “He calls me ‘sugar’, but I really don’t think I should be reading too much into that because even my boss uses nicknames with literally everyone. It’s just a Southern thing.”

“But he wants to go shopping with you?” She reminds you. “Most men hate shopping.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna let him into the dressing room.” You protest, although you immediately think that if he made a move, you probably would.

“Sure you wouldn’t.” Clearly not believing your bullshit, she laughs. “Maybe he has something weird about the date? A Valentine’s Day wedding is very sappy.”

“Maybe. I really don’t know. And I don’t want to pry, ya know? Because as much as I get mixed signals from Jack, Tex has been nothing but sweet.” Talking it out will help, you tell yourself. It absolutely is not just going to pave the way for further frustration…

“But you don’t really want sweet.” She guesses. “Do you? You’ve always been attracted to the troublemakers.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re both trouble.” Another laugh bubbles out of you and you shake your head. “Remember the guy that came back on the jet with me to help me pack? That was Tex.”

“Oh he was cute, you mean the other one is even better looking? You better bring his ass to the wedding.” She huffs. “Bring both of them.”

“You want me to just strut into our cousin’s wedding with a cowboy in either arm?” God…your whole family would just lose their minds…

“Fuck…a girl can dream can’t she?” Your sister giggles. “I’ll be living vicariously through you.”

“Oh please.” Rolling your eyes is a useless gesture because she can’t see you, but you’re sure she can hear it in your voice. “Is having a surgeon for a husband not enough of a bragging right anymore?” You adore her husband - They’ve been together since high school and discovered their soulmate status after she graduated - but that doesn’t mean you won’t tease her. “Picture perfect kids, a successful husband, and your own amazing career aren’t doing the trick these days?”

“Nope.” She has zero shame and you know it. “I want to hear how hot cowboy sex is.”

When you huff at her it’s supposed to be indignant, but it comes out completely agonized. “If I ever have any, I promise I’ll let you know. But I genuinely doubt I have an actual chance.”

“Please, you’re gorgeous and it sounds like both of them are sniffing around.” She teases. “They want your sugar.”

“I never should have told you that,” you groan, knowing it will probably never die now.

“Hell no, you should save a horse and ride a cowboy.” She laughs and loves how you are sounding better. She knows about your loss of a soulmate and how much it has affected you.

“Oookay.” Snickering, you let out a sigh that is actually more like a half-groan and wipe one hand down your face. “Tell the kids I love them, will you? I’m going to see if I can get some sleep. I think I ate my body weight in barbecue today and it’s catching up with me.”

“I will, okay. I love you,” As much as she misses you, it’s best that you have a fresh start and it sounds like Kentucky is a good place for you.

“I love you, too.” Faintly on the other end, you can hear your mother’s dog barking and laugh softly. The sounds of home are absolute comfort and you do miss it. But this is the right place for you to be right now. “I’ll try to text you a sneaky picture of Jack tomorrow.”

“You better.” She warns you with a cackle. “Otherwise I’m going to embarrass you when he comes to the wedding.”

“If.” The nagging feeling you have that he doesn’t want to go is very real, but there’s nothing you can do about it. He either will or he won’t, and that’s that. “I’ll talk to you later in the week.” Another round of goodbyes is murmured before you hang up, and you sit in the window seat a while longer before dragging yourself to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

******

Jack feels like an ass. No– he is an ass. Actin’ like a fucking pup who had been scolded as he shot across the lawn and away from you. There’s nothing coincidental about where your little wedding is being held and he knows that artistically culinary talented you would have made your way to the kitchens even if they were off limits. He just knows it. Now, he’s watching your house like a damned stalker. Wanting to still keep his promises even though you might slam the door in his face. Spending most of the night up, hearing Abigail’s voice in his head, chewing him a new one for not apologizing for his behavior earlier. As soon as he sees movement, Jack is out the door. His jeaned legs eating up the distance between your house and his, ready to go if you're still wanting, and ready to apologize and just let you use his Bronco if you’re not.

Up, showered, and dressed after a night of lousy sleep and bad dreams, you drag yourself downstairs to make a cup of coffee. This coffeemaker is going to be the first thing you replace, you’ve decided, because you can finally afford a fancy espresso machine like you’ve always wanted. Kitchen gadgets are happening today, and it’s going to be a good time. Whether you go alone or otherwise, you tell yourself. Not knowing what the hell happened with Jack yesterday, you’re not assuming you’ll see him. Until your doorbell rings. Hopefully that’s just Jack holding up his promise to come with you, and not some random coworker wondering if you’ll be coming to church with them.

Shuffling on your small porch, Jack adjusts his hat before he swipes it off his head altogether. Nervous as a teenager going to his first dance, Jack rolls his eyes at himself. He just needs to relax, but for some reason he can't. He doesn't like the idea of you being mad at him. His stomach flips as he hears you walking towards the door.

The door swings open without a single creak, and you bite the inside of your lip when you see him standing there on your porch. “Morning, Jack,” you murmur, stepping aside to let him in. Whether this is an excuse not to come out today or an explanation for his departure last night, you have to admit that you’re just glad to see him. It means you probably didn’t do some unknown mysterious horrible thing to make him hate you - which is definitely what every dream you had last night was about.

Your neutral greeting gives him a smidgeon of hope and feels tension draining away in minute amounts. "Sugar, I-" He steps inside and huffs. "I need to apologize for leavin' so quickly yesterday." He turns and stares at you with a repentant expression on his face. "After makin' a fool of myself, I realized we didn't set our plans for today in concrete and while you might not even want the addition of my presence to your outing, I didn't want to be even more of an asshole and not show up." He manages to rattle this off in one breath and stops to inhale. "However, if you're wishin' to not be in my company, I at least want to offer the use of my bronco to you, since that had been a main sellin' point of the day." Offering for someone to drive Betsy is unheard of, but he's pulling his keys out of his leather jacket to extend them to you if you want.

Verbose. Jack Daniels is a verbose man, who can and will turn any four word sentence into four paragraphs. But you don’t hate that - it flies in the face of ‘quick’ communication like texting or shouting across a kitchen. It’s kind of nice, actually, when you’re not generally upset. “Did I say something wrong?” You finally ask, looking from his keys up to the sincere expression of reticence on his face. “Or did I do something to make you leave?”

"No." Jack assures you quickly, shaking his head and wondering how the hell he could possibly explain. "It was all me, sugar. All me and I apologize for worryin' you. It was never- I feel nearly sick at the idea of makin' you think that you had done anything." He's going to just pray you don't ask him for details.

“But everything’s okay?” If it wasn’t you, then it likely was something personal, and he seems like a fairly private person. A conclusion that’s only being reinforced by the fact that he hasn’t actually explained what happened. You decide, though, that you’ve only known the man a week and he doesn’t owe you his life story, so a sincere apology is enough.

"Right as rain, sugar." He manages to paint on a half grin, rocking forward towards you and there is a magnetism that he feels, like he's being drawn to you. "Does this mean you might still want me to squire you around town?" It's old fashioned and a little a lot flirty, but it feels right.

“Do you want a cup of coffee before we go?” Closing the front door is the silent signal that you want him to stay, and you can feel relief coursing through you that he seems to want to do this. The last thing you would ever want to do is drag him along unwillingly.

"If you're havin' one. If not, we can always swing by the best little coffee shop in town." Jack offers, not wanting to inconvenience you.

“We could do that.” Instead of retreating back into the kitchen, you reach for your jacket and purse instead. “A new coffee maker is on the list of things we’re picking up today.”

Jack chuckles as looks at your standard Mr. Coffee maker that was left in the cabins. "Doesn't quite do it for you?" He guesses, figuring you drink those fancy coffees with art made from the foam.

“My very first job was as a barista in a bakery in the town where I grew up,” you tell him. Keys, phone, purse, jacket, you’ve got everything you need so you open the door again and move to set the alarm via the panel on the wall. “I started drinking espresso and never looked back.”

"Figured." He gives a small chuckle and waits for you patiently, his hand moving to the small of your back when the two of you set out of the cabin and you close the door behind you. "Have you set up your biometric lock yet?" He asks, noticing that you are using the fob for the door.

“Not yet.” Keys go into your purse and you close your eyes momentarily against the warmth of his hand at your back. “Someone is coming tomorrow morning to set it up. Then I’ll lock myself in the kitchen at the restaurant and bake cakes all day.”

"What kind of cakes?" Jack immediately starts drooling, imagining what you might make. His sweet tooth is happy at the prospect.

“Well everybody seemed to like the coconut cake, so I think I’ll leave that recipe alone.” He opens the door of the Bronco for you and you slide in, loving that Kentucky in February is warm enough for an open air drive. “I think I’ll work on the red velvet or a hummingbird cake first. Try to nail down the classics.”

"Diana will adore you if you make her a fancy red velvet." Jack promises you as the two of you get situated in the truck and he turns the engine over. "And Champ will adore you for his wife being happy."

“They’re very sweet together.” The older couple have been nothing but lovely and welcoming to you, and you’re grateful for it. “And I wouldn’t dare open a tea room in the south without red velvet cake on the menu.”

"Maybe one of those scone thingys." Jack rolls his eyes. "She's always talkin' about how no one makes scones here."

"I can do scones." Any suggestions he has are more than welcome, as they give you a pretty good idea of what people in the area are actually looking to eat and that helps you focus your energy while you're putting together your menu. "Scones. Tea sandwiches. Maybe tartlets or quiches. I have way too many ideas."

"Was this always your dream?" He asks, pulling onto the main road and heading towards town. It's in the opposite direction of the bar he had taken you to the first time, but it's amusing to think that he has been showing you all the area himself.

"For my career?" You glance at him as he drives, recognizing the placid look of contentment there. He likes to drive, and you file that away in the back of your mind. "I mean, I did have a pretty decent stretch of time as a kid where I wanted to be a princess, and then about a month in middle school when I decided that I wanted to build a time machine, but...yeah. I pretty much always knew I wanted to be a chef. The debate was savory or pastry, and obviously pastry won."

"You're good at both." He promises you with a chuckle, enjoying the sass that seems to come naturally to you. "A princess, huh?" He looks over at you with a grin. "You know that job title comes with a high chance of being stuck in a tower, right?"

"Yeah, but traditionally it also comes with a handsome prince and really good clothes, so nine-year-old me was okay with it." When he laughs softly you grin, glad to see the tension between you has dissipated. "What about you? Was CEO of an international distillery always on your radar?"

"Definitely not." Jack shakes his head and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "Smaller plans. Much smaller." He thinks about all the dreams him and Abigail had talked about, laying in the dark and holding onto one another. "Just a happy life, family, you know - the normal stuff."

"Not everything happens early in life. Sometimes the best things are worth waiting for." Obviously he never got his wish - or at least he hasn't yet - and you frown slightly. Surely he hasn't had any shortage of offers? He must be waiting for his soulmate, and you can't blame him for that.

"Yeah." It's better to agree instead of laying out his own sob story. He knows it would make you soft, probably make you want to comfort him and although he's enough of a man to appreciate the ways women love to comfort widowers - he can't do that with you. He's already doing more than he needs. He should be maintaining some distance but he can't quite stay away.

"It's none of my business." You know that, and can recognize it, but there's something about Jack that just continues to draw you like a magnet. "But if you ever want to talk about it...you very literally know where I live."

"I appreciate it, sugar." He does, he really does but he doesn't want to talk about that right now. Not when the day is turning out to be a beautiful one.

The drive turns back to pleasanter topics and Jack lets you play with the radio, laughing when you settle on a classic rock station just before he pulls into the parking lot of his little coffee shop. There are plenty of chains around - Louisville is a city after all - but Jack prefers this little place to Starbucks or - according to him - just about any place else.

“The corporate places are okay- don’t get me wrong, but you can’t get that hankering for something unusual and bring in what you need and have them make it for you like you can here.” He offers, opening the door onto the small coffee shop.

The smell is brilliant, hitting you in the face all at once, and you inhale almost greedily. Whatever sweets they're doing here, they're baking fresh. It washes over you and makes you eager to get up to the counter to see what they're working with. "What's your favorite?" You ask Jack, seeing a fairly standard bar menu when it comes to coffee drinks, but a plethora of tea options and syrups for flavor.

Jack grins at you, sure that you’re going to give him a dirty look. “Plain black coffee.”

"I can't believe you don't drink sweet coffee with the way you go after desserts." Is it teasing? Probably. But it's still a surprise.

“The bitterness of the coffee enhances the sweets.” Jack argues, huffing slightly. “I will have some of that syrup in a coffee if I’m not having a pastry with it, but that’s rare.”

"You know you don't have to defend that to me." You nudge him a little as the two of you step into line. "I always put a little coffee in my chocolate things. It amps up the flavor so much."

“Well then you should know.” He grins, eyes greedy as they roam over the case. Trying to see what they have for today. “They change pastries daily.”

"How often do you come in here?" It must be a lot, judging from the way the baristas call their hellos to him by name, and the cup of coffee already waiting for him at the counter when the two of you finally make it to the front of the line.

"It's my go to spot when I'm in town." He admits, shooting the girls behind the counter a wink and a nod for the coffee. "I'll take one of those sausage, maple and blueberry crumb cakes." He tells the one waiting for his pastry order. "They look good."

"Could I have one of the tomato, leek, and goat cheese quiches?" You ask, when the girl nods to Jack and asks you for your order right away. "And a café au lait of whatever your single origin coffee in today." The cashier dutifully types everything in, gets your milk preference, and gets everything moving. "Is it even worth my offering to pay?" You ask Jack, slightly smirking at how you had to bargain to even get him to allow you to pay for lunch when you planned out today.

"Nope." Jack shakes his head and his own wallet comes out. "I don't think you understand how badly my daddy would whoop my ass." He chuckles.

"Thank you for breakfast, then." If it's something he feels strongly about, then you'll learn to pick your battles. He's sure as hell not paying for any of your shopping today. "I wouldn't want your daddy to appear out of nowhere just because I'm stubborn."

"He'd be coming from the grave, so don't put it past him." Jack jokes, shuffling down the line and collecting his cup while you wait for the pastries and your own coffee. "Man could probably convince Satan himself to open the gates of hell to let him come back to whoop me."

You snort, laughing as you bring over plates of warm pastries and your oversized coffee to the table he has chosen. "Sounds like our fathers would have gotten along," you admit ruefully. "I love my dad but he is a ballbuster of the highest degree."

"Something about a father that does that." He murmurs, remembering his own pride at learning he was going to be papa. It had been the proudest seven months of his life.

"Yeah, I noticed that with my brother-in-law." Everything looks amazing, and you hum happily over the first sip of your coffee. Sweet and creamy but not overpowering the natural flavors of the coffee. You might have to see if this shop is interested in partnering, so you can use their coffee in the restaurant.

Jack is damn thankful that you didn't pick up on the momentary flash of pain, maybe he hid it well enough. Instead of saying anything else about it, he just ticks a brow up. "So? Whadya think?"

He had to ask while you have food in your mouth? You roll your eyes at him for a second but grin, nodding as you finish chewing the perfect first bite. Choosing not to say anything about the dark clouds in his eyes was apparently a good choice - you're just desperate not to do anything to rock the boat between you. "It's sooo good," you groan after a second, laughing at your own exaggerated reaction.

"Try some of mine." He offers, nudging a piece of his crumb cake with scrambled sausage, fresh blueberries and dots of real maple syrup over towards you along with his plain coffee.

Immediately offering him the same, you both try each others' breakfasts and hum happily. Whatever this place is using for their house coffee blend, it works gorgeously with maple. You'll have to remember that if they agree to a partnership. "So everything is good here? That's the vibe I'm getting?"

"Eh." Jack shrugs. "I don't like some of their stuff. Their cookies are a little too crumbly. I like 'em soft and chewy."

"How do you feel about shortbread?" The question comes with a raised eyebrow as you switch breakfasts again and file away Jack's cookie preferences. You're still not sure why you're so invested in making sure that everything you make is going to be to his taste, but it feels important that it is.

"Only if they have a sweet jam on top or sandwiched between layers." Jack admits, giving a small shrug.

"You realize that you have been all of my menu consults so far?" You ask him, thoroughly enjoying your breakfast and trying not to look too embarrassed or eager about that fact. "I ought to just call the place Jack's."

The joke makes him grin, contemplating it seriously for a moment before he shakes his head. "You don't have to take all my advice, sugar. I just like what you're offerin'."

"I'm sure I'll make something that doesn't suit you but everyone else likes, and that's fine." It's an inevitability of your career. Not everyone is going to like every single item on the menu. But that's why having multiple testers is important. "Champ's giving me three months to get the place up and running. He wants to have it ready for the summer tourist season, so I'll be asking for plenty more opinions before that time comes."

"I'm sure it will be amazing." Jack praises honestly. "You seem like you have a passion for makin' people happy and their belt tighter."

"Hopefully." The sting is unexpected - how the thought that smacks you out of nowhere is wondering whether or not your soulmate would have liked your baking. "Hopefully."

Jack sees the way your mood shifts, and he knows it's because of him. From what he can tell, you had been looking forward to a future with your soulmate and he's taken that from you. Guilt settles on him and suddenly, he's not hungry anymore.

An uneasy silence settles between you and you know it's your fault, the thick melancholy hanging over your shoulders making you blurt out and unasked for explanation. "My soulmate died," you tell him, not able to actually look him in the eye but staring into your coffee instead. "Less than two weeks ago. So I'm sorry if I get...awkward sometimes. I never met them or anything, it's just...it's hard to adjust to."

His stomach drops and he opens his mouth to confess. To take the look of sadness off your face and replace it with anger. Maybe it would help you. Help you focus on something else, direct your emotions on hating him. His lips part and the words are on the tip of his tongue. "I'm sorry," is what comes out instead. "I know how you feel, losing someone - I mean."

"Did you--?" Your fingers squeeze into fists on the table, curling in on yourself to try to keep from crying in public. Jack is the first person beyond your immediate family that you've told, and saying the words out loud again makes you ache. "Your soulmate?"

He figures it's safe. That if you know he's lost a soulmate you wouldn't think he has your marks on his body. After all, he's never heard of another set of soulmates in real life. It's always that hopeful whisper. "Yeah." He admits, frowning slightly and reaching out for your hands to cover them with his before he realizes he's doing it. "Her and- and our little boy."

"Oh my god..." Immediately feeling mortified, your fingers open to squeeze his instead of letting your nails bite into your palm. "I'm so sorry. Here I am getting upset about someone I never even met and you...you lost both of them. Shit, Jack."

"It was a long time ago." Jack offers, not wanting you to feel even worse than you do. "You just- it's different. You are allowed to grieve, sugar."

"I think it's part of why I took this job," you admit, feeling all the thoughts you've been keeping a lid on come bubbling to the surface. "A new start, ya know? A brand new life. I have no idea what it would have been like if I had known them, but I'm willing to bet anything that I wouldn't be working at Statesman if I had." Something makes you absolutely certain of it, in fact, and that's almost comforting. Everything in this new life is something you'll choose for yourself.

Jack's nodding covers the way that he swallows, knowing that you had no choice in this. The ink on his skin makes sure that you would end up at Statesman. He can only hope that you are happy here. "Statesman was my fresh start." He tells you honestly.

“And look how well you’ve done for yourself.” The smile on your face might actually be pride, except you have no claim over him in any kind of way that would justify that feeling. “All the way to CEO. I don’t think that it’s…any kind of exaggeration at all…to think that she’d be so proud of you.”

He tells himself that you are trying to be nice. Smiling weakly and giving a small shrug. "Hopefully so."

“Well,” you shrug, sensing that the topic isn’t exactly comforting to him, and pick up your coffee again. “I would be, if I were your soulmate.”

Jack closes his eyes and gives a soft chuckle. "If I were your soulmate, you'd hate me, sugar." He tells you, knowing that the secret he keeps from you would completely change your thoughts on him.

“I doubt it.” There are very few people on earth that you actually hate, and you can’t imagine a single thing he could ever do to cause that kind of reaction from you. “But I guess we’ll never know.”

"Yeah." That was true because he knew that no one was going to tell you. You would be happy and safe here at Statesman, maybe meet someone and fall in love with them, never aware that Jack is your soulmate. He frowns deeply at that thought and takes a sip of his coffee as he wonders why he hates that idea.

******

Dragging him around Pottery Barn and Williams-Sonoma ends up being a fully entertaining morning after an awkward breakfast. The shiny kitchen appliances and soft, fluffy throw pillows and blankets that end up in his Bronco pile up, punctuated with scented candles, a few decor pieces, and a beautiful full set of dishes and glasses for your table. The house stuff is easy, earns you a little teasing here and there, and is done before you know it.

"Where to now, sugar?" Jack asks, raising a brow at everything that is packed in the back. "Your dress or you want some more knick knacks?" He is in an indulgent mood and the slight bickering you had entertained him with had showcased how funny you are.

“Seems like dress time. I think I can put off more knick-knacks for another day.” You laugh and roll your eyes at him playfully. Jack had ragged on you the entire time you were in Bath & Body Works picking out scented candles, just as bad as the search for decor items in Pottery Barn. “You keep teasing me and I’m gonna make you buy me flowers for my new vase.”

"Aww, sugar, now you've gone and ruined my housewarming gift." He huffs, scowling at you playfully. He hadn't really been thinking about getting you flowers, but now that you mention it - it seems like a fine idea. "I'll get you the best ragweed Kentucky has to offer."

“If you do, you’ll lose taste testing privileges.” That is a very real threat, since your allergies affect your senses of smell and taste fairly dramatically. Allergies have cost you more than one exam grade in culinary school.

"No ragweed. Check." Jack drolls, just to make you laugh as he guides the Bronco towards some boutique that the women folk went to. Ginger had designed several outfits for formal affairs off what she had seen there.

“This is fancy.” When he pulls up in front of the building you can see into the big picture windows. Ladies sitting on settees with glasses of champagne that is probably cava - just as delicious at a third of the price - and women in crisp suits toting beautiful gowns in and out of dressing rooms.

"Hopefully you can find something beautiful here." He tells you. "They dress a lot of people around here for fancy things."

“Statesman people for fancy Statesman things?” You both climb out of the truck and he leads you to the door, giving you the feeling once more that all his gentlemanly behavior is just how he is with women and has nothing to do with you. Which is fine. It is. You’re just trying to talk your crush down off that ledge before you do or say something stupid. “I’m sure I’ll find something.” But your credit card will be laid respectfully to rest after today for a very long time.

"Sometimes." Jack grins. "We get a hell of a discount here."

“Now you’re talking my language.” The grin you shoot him is broad, morphing into something infinitely more amused when the woman behind the counter recognizes him immediately. “Mr. Daniels!” She practically purrs. “What can we do for you on this beautiful day?”

"Now Stephanie..." Jack turns and introduces you to the shop owner. "This here is our newest Statesman employee and she's lookin' for a dress." He tells her. "And of course, your shop was the first and only one I could recommend to her."

“Oh, you’re too kind.” She titters, downright blushing like he’s just outright flirted. It makes your stomach twist in something awful like jealousy. “My dear, what occasion do you need to be dressed for?”

“Um…a formal wedding.” You know you should have taken care of this ages ago, but if you’re honest with yourself you had just figured you would raid your sister’s closet and called it a day. She has plenty of nice things. “Black tie optional, the invitation said.”

"Black tie." She purses her lips and cuts her eyes over at Jack playfully. "I'm assuming you're attending and wearing the velvet Tom Ford we tailored to you with the black stetson?" She asks, tapping her finger to chin thoughtfully. "We will get a bow tie and pocket square that matches the color of the dress we find her." She decides.

“I really appreciate the help.” That’s undeniable. Clearly you hadn’t managed to get this done just by walking through a mall. “The, uh…the wedding colors are pink and white…if that helps? Obviously no one wears white to a wedding but I guess no pink, either?”

"Red is a no-no." She hums and her eyes light up as she thinks of a dress. "What about a blush champagne colored dress?" She offers. "I have a new design I just got in and it would look magnificent with your coloring."

"That sounds like a good place to start." You nod gratefully and let her whisk the pair of you over to one of the smaller sitting areas beside a dressing room. As soon as she disappears down a hallway another young woman appears with drinks and all but winks at Jack when she hands his over.

Jack winks back at her and nods in appreciation of the drink before he turns to you. "What do you think of this place?" He asks, looking around at it like he hasn't been there a hundred times.

"I have a feeling I'm nowhere near the first woman you've brought here for a dress." It's just an observation, and you try very hard not to sound sour about it, but your stomach is churning as you set your drink down on the small table beside you. "It's nice. They obviously take pride in their business."

"Well, I've brought Astrid, Gabriella, Diana when she wanted to surprise Champ." Jack ticks off names playfully, aware that's not how you meant it, but it's kind of rewarding to see the tinge of jealousy in your eyes.

"I do...appreciate you doing this." There is absolutely no reason to be jealous. Just because you have a stupid crush on the man does not mean he owes you anything. "I know it's a big ask, this whole weekend away thing. Even more so because we really just met."

He gives you a smile, shoving down the worries and insecurities under the veneer of confidence. "It's not a big deal, we'll go and drink, dance, have some canapés and you'll tell me who is the family black sheep and I'll make friends with them."

You snort, shaking your head at him and reaching for your drink as an anchor. "You already have," you tell him honestly. "I'm her."

"Now why would you be the black sheep?" Jack huffs, shaking his head at the mere thought.

"It's more like my family are the black sheep family out of the whole extended group." Having very independent and capable parents with strong opinions had meant that you and your siblings turned out just as independent and opinionated. "But my siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles and all of that...even my parents...they all have really incredible success stories in their education and careers, and everyone in my family has married their soulmate. No one is even going to believe that the restaurant is real. They all turned up their noses when I chose pastry in culinary school. Apparently bakers can't be celebrity chefs, and if I'm not a celebrity chef then I'm nobody." You shrug, long having since given up on gaining the approval of your extended family. "My parents and my siblings are great. And that's really all I care about."

"Ahhhh." Jack nods as he settles back in his chair. "I bet you would blow their fifty dollar socks off when you get your tea room set up. Have you come up with a name yet?"

"I'm still debating." One sip from your glass proves that you were right about the theory that it was cava to save money, but it's still a lovely glass of bubbly. "An Alice in Wonderland reference probably won't mesh with the general feeling around Statesman, so I might name it after my grandmother."

Jack gives a small shrug. "You could always call it The Rabbit-Hole and use the Red Rabbit Burrow blend they are working on marketing for." He tells you, thinking about the new line that is about to come out.

You stare, mouth open, and a hollow laugh sticks in your throat while your brain vaguely short circuits. If you had known about this new blend, you would already have the name down on the paperwork. "I could kiss you." Is the declaration that comes out of your mouth instead, gratitude and giddy glee reaching all the way to your toes. "Jack, that's perfect!"

It's on the tip of his tongue to take you up on that offer, watching your eyes light up with delight and joy. Making you seem even more beautiful than you normally are. "It's going to be launching in about five months." He tells you with an offhand shrug. "I can get you a few gallons to sample and experiment with if you want."

"That would be amazing." You're already itching to get your hands on it, wondering what the tasting notes will be like and what you can pair it with. "The Rabbit-Hole." Humming happily, you barely manage to keep your little wiggling happy dance under wraps when the woman - Stephanie - comes back with a handful of dresses.

Jack takes your glass of champagne from you and smirks. “Go play with the dresses and pretend you're a princess, sugar.” He winks and motions you off.

The large handful of dresses that Stephanie has reappeared with are grand and sparkling in tone of gold, champagne, and rose that will obviously compliment a pink-themed wedding but not upstage it. She seems to have picked out a style she likes for you - glamorous and evoking a bombshell look that would guarantee that the first person anyone in the room looks at after the bride, will be you. "These are stunning," you breathe, letting your fingers graze the sequins on the first dress on the rack. "I've never worn anything like them. But...I guess after today I won't be able to say that."

“Try them all on.” Jack encourages you. “We don’t have anywhere else to be.”

He's right, of course. The only other plan you have today is to have dinner together, so you disappear into the fitting room to swap your clothes for the first dress that might wind up in your closet by the end of the afternoon. The cut is flattering and the color is brilliant, but it doesn't quite feel right in some amorphous way that you can't quite put your finger on. Still, you step out to show Jack and see what he has to say.

Jack whistles and his eyes drag up and down your body. “Damn, sugar.” He huffs. “How do you like it?”

You can't help preening a little, even though you're sure he would compliment absolutely anyone he was with the same way. "It's nice, but I don't think it's quite right. I do love the color, though."

“Well then I guess we can mark that off the list.” Jack smirks. “Next one sugar.”

The next two dresses are nixed - one by you and one by Jack, who insists that the skirt doesn't fall right and you just end up smiling and nodding because you're trying not to spontaneously combust from him paying so much attention to your figure. When you go back into the dressing room, you skip the next one that Stephanie had chosen for you and go straight to the last, sighing over the flowers embroidered all over the dress and its accompanying sheer cape. The rose coloured fabric is darker than the Barbie-pink you know your cousin has chosen and the purple and gold accents make it fascinating to watch shimmer. It's gorgeous and the price tag makes you wince, but you have to try it on.

When you step out of the dressing room, Jack immediately stands and sweeps his hat off his head as he stares. “This- this is the one, sugar.” His body tells him that he really likes the way you look and he motions towards the mirror. “What do you think?”

"It's amazing." His reaction doesn't hurt either, and you turn to face the wall-sized mirror beside your dressing room. The cape falling around your shoulders is the closest to being a princess you'll ever come, and you glance at Jack over your shoulder as you watch your reflection. "It's so comfortable," you admit, laughing that that is so exciting to you when you're wearing such a gorgeous piece of art.

“So this is the one? Yeah?” Jack waits for you to nod and then turns to Stephanie. “Does there need to be any alterations?”

"A slight hem, depending on what shoes your friend will be wearing." Stephanie smiles, making sure to stay polite. "Oh...I guess I do need shoes, don't I?" Turning around in place, you look between them both. "I'm not too steady on high high heels, but...can a hem be done this week? The purchase is...sort of last minute." "I can have it done by mid week for you." Stephanie assures you, stepping forward to inspect the dress on your body and make sure she's correct that nothing more needs to be done. "We do have some heels here, if you would like to look. Gold will work well, or we can dye a fabric pair to match the gown if you prefer."

Jack chuckles. “Go check the shoes out, sugar.” As much as he doesn’t ‘shop’, he’s enjoying himself. Enjoying learning things about you. Maybe it’s crazy, he doesn’t know, but he looks at it like he’s taking care of you. Making you happy.

With a few very careful steps, you get down from the little platform that your dressing room was on and follow the saleswoman around the corner to a large display of heels in nearly two dozen shapes, styles, and heights. There are so many that it’s a bit overwhelming, but your eyes settle on a pair with intricate caging and open toes that will strap onto your feet and hopefully not move an inch all night. Something worth putting up with high heels for. “What about these?” You ask out loud, almost afraid to see this price tag on top of the dress.

Stephanie chuckles, actually chuckles and admires the boldness of your choice. “They are statement pieces, aren’t they?” She reaches for the shoes and pulls them off the display. “They are gorgeous and actually probably some of the more comfortable heels. Let me get your size and we will see how they look?”

“Thank you.” Your fingers subtly stroke the fabric of the dress as she retrieves your shoe size from the back and you walk back to where Jack is waiting.

Jack looks up, still in awe of the way the dress looks on you and gives you a smile. “Are they dying shoes or did you find some?”

“I saw a nice gold pair. Hopefully they have my size.” There’s only a moment of hesitation before you go back into the dressing room, retrieving your cell phone from your pants pocket to bring it out to him. “Would you…mind taking a picture? I…it’s silly. I just really want to show my sister.”

“One without the shoes and one with?” Jack guesses with an indulgent and slightly naughty grin. “I never have a problem taking a picture of a beautiful woman, sugar.”

Stephanie returns with the shoes while your face is still burning from Jack’s compliments. Absolutely no part of this is what you figured today would be like. You had pictures hunting through the dress department at Dillard’s quickly so as not to bore Jack, coming up with something passable but unremarkable. This is an altogether opposite experience to that - and definitely the closest to being a princess that you’ve ever felt.

Jack hums as Stephanie brings the shoes over and you sit down on one of those little poofy circle things women love. Standing, he moves over to you. “Let me help you put them on, sugar.” He murmurs silkily as he drops down to one knee in front of you and takes the shoes from the other woman.

It’s a damn Cinderella moment and all you can do is sit, frozen, trying not to react to the strength and gentleness of Jack’s large hands working the delicate straps on the heels. It’s not that you have a foot fetish, or anything even akin to it. It’s the warm way your skin tingles under his touch and the absolute intimacy of helping someone get dressed that have you holding your breath while Stephanie makes her unnoticed escape. You two clearly ought to be left alone.

He’s never thought of a foot as pretty. Never given them much thought beyond walking and laughing then Abigail had stuck her feet in his lap and demanded foot rubs for carrying his boy. He had acquiesced every time willingly. Now he keeps his fingers light as they move, sliding across your skin or holding your heel while he slips the heels on and buckles the straps.

It’s soft. Gentle. And you have no fucking clue why having him help you with your shoes has you in the verge of tears but here you are. Once they’re in place you shift slightly on the pouf, not sure that you want to break the spell of whatever the hell was just happening, but you need to see if the damn things are actually going to work for you. “Would you…?” You hold your hands out to him awkwardly, asking for help up.

“Of course, sugar.” Jack stands and dusts off his pants before he offers his hand to you with a wink and a slightly embellished flourish. “A Princess should not stand on her own.”

The way you huff is quiet - almost mournful but more like boarding indignant as he helps you to stand and just keeps you in front of him like this. Looking you over like it’s his privilege instead of a right. “If you treat the women you’ve just made friends with like this,” you observe, trying to shake off how special it makes you feel. “I don’t understand how somebody hasn’t snatched you up since being single.” You shrug, a little gesture but an honest one. “That’s just to say…your wife was a very lucky woman.”

“No sugar, I was the lucky one.” He promises, shoving down the wave of sadness and bitterness so he can concentrate on you. You deserve to feel beautiful at this moment. “Remember, manners maketh man.”

“Not in a dress shop, I hope.” A little smile crosses your lips, remembering he had said the same thing before taking those bikers to task a week ago. “And…it’s possible for you both to have been lucky. That’s—that’s what finding a soulmate is. At least…that’s what it seems like.”

It slips out, the dreaded words he hated for so long. “Maybe you will be lucky and have another soulmate.” He murmurs, knowing that according to the universe - you do.

You’ve heard those words before. From your father and brother, mostly, and you paint on the patient smile that you offered both of them when they said it. “Second soulmates are a fairy tale,” you remind him gently. “They don’t happen in real life. I’ll— I’ll just be glad if I ever find somebody willing to put up with my own specific brand of weird bullshit. That’s the dream now.” Companionship, not true love. That’s the best that you’ll dare to hope for.

He sees the brittleness in your smile because he has been far less kind with those words spoken to him. “I know.” He murmurs. “We just have to say it, right? It’s almost required.”

“Right.” You nod, stepping away from him before you say something incredibly stupid, and move back to the mirror to see the dress with these shoes on. It’s a spectacular combination and your smile softens, wondering what your soulmate would have thought of this kind of glamor.

Jack takes the picture you asked for and hands you back the phone. “Excuse me for a moment, sugar. Too much champagne, and I need to use the facilities.” He steps away, disappearing from the private dressing room.

******

“Mr. Daniels.” Stephanie’s head pops up from the front desk in surprise when she spots him, looking like he’s slinked away from where he was supposed to be. “Did you require assistance?”

“Sure can, darlin’.” Jack pulls out his wallet and lays down his credit card. “Everything she wants goes on this card. Tell her that it’s on the Statesman account and she’ll be billed at a heavy discount.” He requests, needing to buy that dress for you for some strange reason.

“You don’t want her to know it’s a gift?” She asks, head tilting slightly like she’s intrigued at the request.

“No.” Jack shakes his head adamantly. “This is a secret between you and me.” He makes it seem more charming with a wink and a flash of a flirty smile.

“Alright.” She’s damn well not going to question it. Not when she makes a commission. “Shall I encourage your friend to peruse our jewelry and clutches to complete the outfit, or would you prefer to keep the purchase small?”

“Whatever she wants.” Jack reiterates. Perhaps some of it is that underlying guilt that springs up around you, but this is mostly to make sure you look amazing at an event where your family will be.

“Very good.” Offering him a nod, she enters his credit card information into the purchase order under your name and hands it back with a smile. “If it’s not overstepping, the two of you do make a very sweet couple.”

“I wouldn’t be good for her.” Jack murmurs as he shoves his wallet back into his back pocket and sighs. “Now to actually use the bathroom.”

When Jack does return several minutes later, you are changed back into your own clothes and pour over a small display of gold earrings with Stephanie. “Hey!” Your smile is wide and true, eyes lighting up when you see him. “For a second there I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m harder to shake than a tic on a dog’s ass, sugar.” Jack jokes, just to make you giggle at his inappropriate comeback.

“Noted,” you snicker, even more amused because Stephanie looks so horrified. “I swear I’m almost done here, and then we can get dinner.”

“Take your time, sugar. The decorations make the cake more delicious.” Jack muses.

“He says to a baker.” This time you throw him a wink, deciding that playful things are just that much more fun today. It doesn’t matter that he’s just being kind, whereas you would willingly and easily drag him into that dressing room to find out exactly how much of that cocky attitude actually comes from his cock.

Grinning, he can’t help the way that his cock twitches in his jeans. You are a sexy woman and even more so when you are playful. He likes that in a woman. “So go on and pick out your doodads.” He motions towards the display case. “Gotta work up an appetite.”

Doodads. You shake your head, feeling the action be much more affectionate than you meant for it to be, and turn back to the case of jewelry in various colors, tones, and styles. The earrings you end up picking are simple but beautiful sparkling gold stud, and a nearby soft fabric clutch in gorgeous metallic gold. Stephanie tries directing you to other pieces like elaborate bracelets, but you just end up wrapping your hand around the simple gold cuff you wear every day on your wrist. It was a gift from your sister and you haven't skipped wearing it a day in the three years since she gave it to you. "I think this is plenty," you announce, when you really understand that she isn't going to stop pushing. It's fine - she probably works on commission and you're making her a lot of money today. But you're not replacing the bracelet your sister gave you for any reason. "Dress, shoes, earrings, and a purse. That's more than I expected to do today, anyway."

“Alright.” Stephanie wants to tell you to spend more money. She knows Jack Daniels can afford it, but you aren’t supposed to know. “I don’t think with the heels you need any hemming, so would you like to take the dress with you now?”

“Please.” The placid smile on your face belies how excited you actually are about the dress - it’s just your credit card bill you’re dreading. “I really appreciate all your help today. I would have been lost on my own.”

“I love helping people dress for special occasions.” Stephanie tells you brightly and scans all the items, wrapping them up and putting them in a boutique bag before pulling out a garment bag for the dress.

“My cousin’s wedding is sure to be memorable.” That’s just the sort of person she is - a very big personality that should never be silenced. You shift your purse off your arm at the counter, digging for your wallet to hand over your credit card.

“That’s great.” Stephanie zips up the dress and smiles at you as she pushes the bag forward. “Well, I hope you enjoy it and have a great rest of your day.”

"I--um..." Standing there with your credit card out, you tilt your head and furrow your brow at the shop employee. "I haven't paid yet," you remind her gently.

“Don��t worry about that.” She waves away your card with a smile. “It’s been put on Statesman’s account.” She explains breezily. “It will be billed to you, at a heavy discount.”

"Oh." Vaguely wondering how many local businesses Statesman simply has an account at, you put your card away and give the woman a slightly dazed nod as you accept the bags she has packed for you. "Well-I...thank you, again."

Jack winks at Stephanie and nods at her politely before taking your bags. “Are we ready, sugar?”

"We're ready." This whole we and sugar business is the kind of thing that makes you feel like a schoolgirl - like you're going to go home tonight and call your sister from bed while you kick your legs and gleefully recall every detail of every interaction. And fuck - who knows - maybe you will. He's been wonderful today. Completely relieving you of any worry you had last night. "Time for dinner?"

“Only if you are ready for the best collards and cornbread you’ve ever stuffed in your sweet lookin’ little mouth.” The urge to compliment you is just too much. Depending on what he says, he gets a sassy comeback or you turn charmingly shy. Both are perfect in Jack’s book.

The eyebrow you raise in his direction is matched by a smirk, and you can’t help yourself. He’s getting more outlandish in his comments and it’s either a Southern thing that you just don’t have up in New England, or he might actually be flirting. “Been thinking about my mouth today, have you?”

“It’s a nice mouth.” Jack opens the door to the shop and lets you proceed him. “The day a man doesn’t think about a mouth that is sassy and sweet, sour and sugary, well - it’s the day they put him in the ground.”

You practically gasp at the admission, taking the garment bag with your gown and carefully arranging it amongst all the other boxes and bags in the back of the Bronco when you get outside. “So you’ve actually been flirting with me and I’m the idiot who just caught on?”

Jack shuffles, looking for the world like a man who’s gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar. He had been flirting and he hadn’t even realized it, the feeling so natural with you. Jack Daniels claims to be a born flirt, but ninety percent of it is an act. He hadn’t been acting with you. “Yes?” He asks, slightly worried that it might offend, given what you had said earlier.

He sounds worried, and you almost round the car to press a kiss to his cheek right there. But since the two of you had a short but legitimate conversation this morning about your dead soulmates, you decide not to push it and to just move with the flow of teasing. He seems to like it, and you have to admit to loving finding out that this man returns your attraction. “Good,” you hum, instead of doing anything sappy or too forward. “Keep it up.”

Jack’s grin is slow and he winks at you after he hops into the Bronco again, defying the need for the door. “Bossy lady.” He teases as he turns the key and the engine roars to life. “Easiest order ever, sugar.”

“I just know what I like, that’s all.” The victorious grin that overtakes your face settles there and stays as he pulls out onto the main road. You know what you like and you like him - right from the first second you saw him. It’s just that simple.

Jack drives you about five miles from the dress shop. The outside of the restaurant doesn’t look appealing, it’s the same facade of any strip mall in anywhere U.S.A. For Jack, that was part of the charm. Looks were deceiving. “Here we are, sugar.”

The outside looks like nothing at all, but through the glass windows you can see a line at the cafeteria counter that goes almost to the door. “Looks like we’re just in time for the dinner rush,” you shoot him a grin. “Perfect. Everything will be fresh.”

“Get two scoops of the collards or you’ll be waiting on a new pan.” Jack warns you, smirking as he opens the door and the scent of the buffet wafts out.

“Oh my god it smells like heaven.” The second you’re through the door you’re salivating, eagerly hopping into line with Jack at your side. “It smells like my grandmother’s house in here.”

“Your grandma cooked like this?” Jack asks, arching an eyebrow at you doubtfully.

“You think my coconut cake story was a lie?” You challenge him, grin twisting into the corner of your lips. “Grandma Jane was born and raised in Virginia. She only moved north after my older brother was born. According to her, being a long-distance granny simply was not an option.”

“Well then, let’s see if they cook as good as Grandma Jane from Virginia.” Jack teases, sending you a wink as the two of you get in line.

The building is absolutely packed to the gills, busy employees and happy customers all buzzing with their own energies. You and Jack slowly make your way up to the front of the line where regulars are being greeted by name, and you grin when one very maternal woman behind the counter lights up at the sight of him - this man seems to make an impression wherever he goes.

"Miss Mary, how are you doin' today?" Jack coos as he shuffles forward with you, a grin on his face and he sweeps his hat off his head and snatches her hand to kiss it playfully.

“Always missin’ you, Jack,” the woman laughs, swatting at him ineffectually and obviously enjoying this ritual playful flirtation. “You been in New York again? We ain’t seen you in a dog’s age.”

"No ma'am." Jack shakes his head mournfully. "Work pulled me farther away than New York, otherwise you know I would be flyin' down to sample your famous biscuits." He motions towards you and introduces you to the older woman. "Just had to show our newest Statesman member the best damn home cookin' around."

“Well, welcome, honey!” She shifts her attention to you with a beaming smile. “What is it you’re doin’ over there at the distillery, sweetheart?” “I’m a chef, actually.” You flash her a grin as if you’re both guilty of the same crime. “Brand new to the area, and I asked Jack to show me his favorite place. So here we are.”

"Oh well, I don't know if our cookin' 'ill be up to your standards, but let me know what you think." She looks impressed at the fact that you are a chef, as if running a wildly successful restaurant doesn't qualify her for the same thing. "Sweet Jack here was one of my first customers and sometimes he can be a little biased."

“I haven’t had real Southern cooking in about three years, so I’m excited to dig in.” You tell the woman honestly, making sure not to react to the inquisitive look on Jack’s face that you’re sure you’ll be answering for later. “I’m sure Jack’s bias is completely earned.”

Mary flusters, looking extremely pleased and flattered as she shoos you past. "Well you just enjoy and tell me all about it, you hear?" She demands, motioning you towards the drink station. "Get the sweet tea, honey. It's the real star of the show."

“I’m under orders, I guess. Not that anyone needs to encourage me to drink more sweet tea.” Turning to Jack as you move down the line together, you can see the question still in his eyes. “My grandmother died three years ago,” you explain. “There’s nowhere to get good Southern food in New Hampshire, and…cooking it myself hurt a little too much. Made me miss her too much. So I haven’t made anything except her coconut cake since the funeral.”

"I'm sorry, sugar." Jack knows about loss that just cripples you. He's lived with it for so long, he's functioning. At least as much as he could with his heart ripped out of his chest.

“Thank you.” It’s not ‘okay’, so you won’t say so even off-handedly, but you do slip the thin gold band from your wrist and show him the words written inside: Beautiful girl, you can do hard things. “My little sister had these made a few months later. It’s what she always used to tell us when we were worried or scared. So…she’s still with me. I know it’s not the same as losing your wife and son, but…I get what it feels like. Being so sad you can’t even open your eyes in the morning. I know that feeling.”

Jack stares at the phrase, his own eyes pricking with tears and he nods. "Loving someone is a curse sometimes, as much as it is a privilege."

“It is.” You nod and slip the band back on your wrist. “But that doesn’t mean we should stop. It just means the next person should be worth loving.”

Jack can't comment on that. Not when he's vowed to never love someone again. His own tea in hand, it's a silent perusal for a table, one set up in a small corner and he points to it. Unsure of if you will like it. He knows the silence is his fault, but how could he tell someone that he is wearing their tattoo that loving someone else wasn't in the cards for him.

It’s telling, the way chatty and openly flirtatious Jack clams up at your point of view, and you follow him to the table with a flash of melancholy in your understanding. He’s the kind of man who will simply never let go. No one will ever take his wife’s place and anyone that’s drawn his eye since is just a distraction. And for the life of you, you can’t understand why that makes your chest feel hollow and empty the way it does.

He hates that he's put a pall over the outing and once the teas are set down, he reaches for your hand. "Sorry, sugar." He murmurs softly. "It's just— it's hard to talk about. I don't mean to make you feel bad."

“Oh, I’m fine.” Lying through your teeth is what you are, but you smile for him anyway and squeeze his hand. “I think I went too long without eating, that’s all. It can affect my mood. Nothing to worry about.” Swallowing the lump squeezing your heart, you manage to find his eyes. “You can always talk to me. If you want to, I mean.”

"I appreciate that." He does, but he can't. Not without giving away the real issue. It's like your tattoo is burning and he rubs his arm absentmindedly. "Why don't we get you some grub and we can talk about less haunting things?"

“Sure.” You find yourself nodding around him quite a lot, content to be led by him through this new world you’re navigating. After all, you do like him. And Jack’s never given you a single reason not to trust him. “That sounds like a plan.”

______ 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

DtRH: @haileymorelikestupid @spishsstuff @missmarmaladeth @axshadows @a-gay-cryptid @sgt-morgan @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @flowers4copper @ghost-timelord @the0racl30fd3lphidos @all-the-way-down-here @bobafvcker @ficsbynight @dinoflower @supernaturalgirl20 @xdaddysprincessxx @bobawh0re @amiee-mitch18 @darkhairedmenrule @heyyimlaynna @strawberry-f4iry @3zm33atzbuss33 @whataghost @cyber666slut @nobody-000 @eddiemunsonsgirlfriendirl @lucciolaraven @powergirlsupremacy @secondsistershelby @dreadmars @androgynoushellscape @soytomatecherry @cheesecake-massacre @mylifeisbasedonashow @idiotickiddo @tomfeltonisbae @maratheidiot22 @im-nada @everybirdfellsilent @deepdarkdelights @brokenwhitegirl384 @ur-honey-child @caseket @copperrose15 @we-could-have-been @valkyries-ride @scarletmunson @strawberriricemilk @ghost-timelord @galactigoos @floridawaters @cutiepie6473 @pinball-vance @theslytherinwriter @scorpioswonder @stankyleg05 @fxdsketches @sad-innit @coffeyorky @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @starlordsonlywife @aura626 @mistresskei @marv3lwhor3 @sadimusprimee @yourwonderbelle @sgt-morgan @spot116 @milybaby018 @loserk1nks @artfulthoughtswp @aavw @babyrunsforfanfic @faceache111 @midnight-huntress @asimpleraccoonqueen @marki-moo0 @pages89 @rawr-bitches @rebel-fanfare @soooosha @luna-is-out-there @im-sylien @timpletance @certifiedhunter @ellenmunn @littlethief78 @tinalbion @eddy-y @tikibabi @whyidkok @bearcoon1666 @littlebirdsbookshelf @a-gay-cryptid @disaster-ahaha @viridiesa @axshadows @purplerain04 @karmarouge @holycyclehomo @sainteredhood @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @the-wishmonger @theliferuiner @raptorclaw24 @asp1r1ngm1lf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @st4rl1ght444 @litholithium @tusk89 @youjustneedatherapist @nekodemon73 @iceclaw101 @lightningsface @shakespeareanwannabe @jasminemunson @spideysimpossiblegirl @wannabedaphne @sammus-white @jazzieomega @88dragon06 @ishabull @raquel-rial @tuquoquebrute @hotleaf-juice @dantaku @youokhoney @thisiswhyibleedsstuff @maximumkryptonitegladiator @jediknight122 @gadsgikklesen @movievillainess721 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @the-strawberrythief @spishsstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @haileymorelikestupid @gooddaykate @missredherring @abyssal-zone-stares-back @supernaturalgirl @winterandstars @severewobblerlightdragon @missmarmaladeth @noisynaia @saintbedelia @algressman16 @eaks0710 @mina2000alex @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @akaleelanie @mishasminion360 @amneris21 @roxypeanut @lunarcatbun 118 @frasmotic @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @lovelychaos420 @1432690 @no1pornstachefan @thegrimreaperbitch @esmeensheep @izz-ayes-world @kittycatcait219 @loveyou3000tonystark @tintinn16 @igenerallytrynottogiveagoshdarn @motheroftorches @phoenixhalliwell @the-dazzling-urbanite @coffeyorky @trickstersp8 @victorian-cherub @julissadunn @clarysthing @the-girl-that-loves-many-fandoms @mastersurf @theghostofutopia @ncsls0515 @seraphinaivy @hiyorinatsuki @ghostofaboy @yn-hamato @elfwriter1088 @sunnygrey99 @lexinicolenix @lazyemisfandomtrash @curiouskeyboard @qualityearthquakes @spider-284748 @unnecesarysstuff @sgt-morgan @love-affair-with-fandoms @lunarcatbun @kstar770 @kykymarty @supergingerlocks @hell0kittybimb0222 @a-birds-fin @loidforgerishotashell @mythical-writer @ghostshalo @avengersimaginesfan @sccialcasualty @lordecult @petalo-dropsart @i-quite-like-eating-carrots @svudetective @hasta-la-pasta-bb @manicpixiedreamgirly @destinydog @skeppycarnation @anaisweird @critters-beware @fruityforcocoapuffs @linnnniie @spideyromantic @paupeach2024 @faithxyu @fxramir @legomyeggo @jjggdfvvy @hi-my-name-is-riley @kasaikawa @lost-ghost-thats-sleepy @callmegkiddo @2dead2function @generallysleepdeprived @failingclassesinmygucciglasses @thebeesknees42 @moonmoon007 @wi0na @cilliansangel @lostinsideourminds @angstismydrug @elvenmother @bilibiche

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Kingsman Golden Circle #Soulmate au

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minimoxha · 11 months

Text

Tangled (Masterlist)

Summary: After his wife and daughter died he thought he lost everything. However, you for some reason, you'd didn't disappear. So, Miguel locked you up. He had to find some way to protect you so you couldn't be taken from him like Gabriella. What better way to do that then keep you in his dimension where he could get to you in case of anything

It’s definitely named after the tangled playlist songs!

Chapter List:

Ch. 1 - Tangled

Ch. 2- When will my life begin?

Ch. 3 - I have a dream

Ch. 4- I see the light

Ch. 5 - Father knows best?

Ch. 6 - Return to father

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theitgirlnetwork · 6 months

Text

Better

Ch. 11: Three Months But It Feels Like Forever

Note: Hello! Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it and just a warm hope you had a good day to those who don't. Another chapter written in the middle of the night, so...you know. Still I hope you enjoy it. Unfortunately our fave couple still has troubles ahead, but there's a fun, a little (a lot) crazy surprise at the end. As always, thank you for all of the love on this story, I'm really grateful for it. It really inspires me and makes this stuff even easier to share. You're all great. I love interacting so feel free to continue. Also this is short but the next one will be longer bc it's something big. Also again, this taglist situation is probably my bad so I'm gonna sort it out, try again next chapter, and then y'all can tell me if it worked, bc atp I'm embarrassing myself. Thanks and I hope you enjoy. <3

Charlotte's Work Party Look

Lip's Work Party Look

“So this is bullshit. He dumps her for one basketball game?”

“That’s not what happened, he was having an inner conflict, and he was only sixteen.”

“Sixteen year old piece of shit.”

Charlotte huffs, continuing to run her fingers through his blond curls. Lip is laid across the couch, his head in Charlotte’s lap, hand underneath her thigh. Debbie is sitting on the floor in front of the television and Troy Bolton had just told his friends he didn’t give a shit about Gabriella.

“He’s just choosing basketball and his friends.” Debbie protests, breaking free from her basketball boy trance to argue with her brother.

“Basketball and his friends can’t get his dick wet-ow! Charlotte.” he winces, rubbing the spot on his scalp where his girlfriend had decided to bury her hand and tug. “Damn it, I was just sayin’ he’s got like one game left in the season, why does he need to break up with her to play? And that shit she just wrote on the board is wrong-why the hell are we watchin’ this shit?”

“You just don’t get it.” Debbie huffs, pausing the movie. She pushes off of the floor and grabs the popcorn from the coffee table. “Let’s watch try again when he’s not here.”

“Oh excuse me.” Lip rolls his eyes as his sister storms off, running up the steps. When he looks back up at his girlfriend, her cheek is dimpling with her deep frown. “What?”

“You ruined movie night” she fake pouts, rubbing her hand along his chest.

Lip smirks, before indulging her, sitting up and tilting her chin with his finger. “Aw, did I?” he kisses her cheek, “I don’t think I did.” her jaw, “We could go in my room and make our own movie.”

“Yeah?” Charlotte hums, meeting his lips briefly with her own before pulling back. “Can’t. I have work.”

“Stay here,” he murmurs, pulling her back to him. “You can dance for me.”

Giggling, Charlotte lets herself be pulled back in, exchanging kisses with the blond until his phone buzzes on the couch next to him, a dreaded name lighting up on the screen. She pulls back fully this time, standing to go get dressed. “Your professor is texting you. At 8:36 at night.”

Blue eyes watch Charlotte disappear up the staircase before closing tiredly. Lip had been dodging almost all of Helene’s communications. He would read her texts to make sure they had nothing to do with his job, and only responded when they did. He’d hoped that was enough, but everytime Charlotte saw that name pop up on his phone she would retract from him. Leave the room, pick up Liam, interact with anyone but him. One morning she asked again, if she had a thing for him, or if they’d hooked up in the past. No matter how much he wanted to, Lip just couldn’t bring himself to answer her with a yes.

“Fuck,” he breathes to himself, before running up the stairs after her. He pushes the door to his bedroom open. “Charlotte-” he pauses, staring at her, taking in her form. She stands in her work outfit, if you could call it that, the only thing offering an ounce of covering is the one leg of a juicy tracksuit she was putting on over it. “Um, what the fuck?”

She turns, meeting him with confusion, giving him a glimpse of the front which only has him letting out a laugh of disbelief. “What?”

“What? You’re gonna wear that to work?”

“Oh,” she shrugs, putting her leg through the other hole and pulling the pants up. “Yeah.” she chirps, reaching past him to grab the matching jacket, zipping it over the small bikini top she has on.

“The only thing that shit covers is your nipples.” Lip says, scratching his head.

“S’a stripclub, Phillip. They’re supposed to see stuff.” she giggles. Her laughter stops when she sees his stoic face. Charlotte makes her way over to him, cupping his cheek, “Hey, you said you were good with this. You’re not?”

Lip looks away from her for a second, shifting on his feet. He’s too embarrassed to admit to her that he thinks he agreed to this whole stripper situation too soon. He’d never been a jealous guy, so he didn’t think it was a problem, but he supposes that jealousy is a new feeling that Charlotte had brought into his life. “No, baby I am, just…shit.”

“What shit. Like shit? Or shit.”

Lip closes the distance between them, waiting for her to meet him in a peck, patting her ass when she does. “Watch your mouth.” he mumbles against her lips.

Big brown eyes just stare up into his blue ones. “M’workin’ for us, remember?” She whispers, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing his hair at the nape. “Besides, why would I look at the losers that hang out at the club, lookin’ at me all night when I could come work and be with my sexy boyfriend?”

“Good point.”

“Yeah?” she laughs, letting him pull her into a bunch of small pecks, between matching smiles. The couple starts to get lost in each other again, only breaking away at the sound of Lip’s phone going off again. Charlotte pulls back with a blank look on her face. “Your other girlfriend is trying to reach you.”

Lip rolls his eyes and sighs as she slips past him again, running down the stairs. “Bunny-”

“Just take me to work, Gallagher.”

“You do privates, honey?” A drunken man slurs, leering at Charlotte, waving a hundred dollar bill in front of her face. He’s with a group of older men who’d been tipping shittily and buying the cheapest drinks since they’d gotten there.

“No, sir I don’t, but the ladies that do are on the other side of the club…and they charge more than that.”

The man’s lip curls as he stands, scowling at the woman. Charlotte subtly takes a step back, glancing over at security, ready to call them if he got aggressive.

“Hold on, wait a minute, Trent. That’s my daughter in law you’re talkin’ to.” a voice rasps.

“Frank?”

The scraggly man emerges from the crowd of older men on the couch, positioning himself between Charlotte and the other man. “The one and only.” His gaze drops briefly. “Nice outfit.”

Charlotte wraps her arms over her chest and frowns at the man. “What’re you doing here, Frank?” She looks at the group behind him. “Are you in trouble?”

“Trouble? I’m enjoying the ambience! You and your lovely naked friends are a sight to behold-”

“Oh, God, Frank!” Charlotte gasps, covering her mouth to hide her disgust.

“What? You have a beautiful form!”

“I’m calling Phillip.” she huffs, turning to go to the locker room, she pauses as a thought passes through her mind. Twirling back around she makes her way back over. “Frank, what are you paying with?”

“Oh,” the older man produces a sock full of cash from his pocket. It’s familiar to Charlotte. Ever since Frank and Monica located the first squirrel fund, Fiona had started keeping the money in a new place. In the dry rotted hole on the floor between the wall and the dryer. Inside of the sock that Frank was currently dangling in Charlotte’s face. “I came into some money.”

“Hey, that’s-” Charlotte tries to grab it, only for Frank to yank it away at each attempt. “For the house! For bills, for Carl’s field trip this month-”

“That’s my house that you’re shacking up in fyi. This is Gallagher money, and therefore it’s mine to spend. Now point me in the direction of the ladies giving private dances. I’m a private man.”

“Frank, I can’t let you spend that-” Charlotte argues, grabbing one end of the sock and pulling. Frank is tugging at the other until he stumbles into a table, causing a couple glasses to fall and shatter, leaving Charlotte with the sock. Charlotte stands over the man angry, disgusted, and feeling a wave of hate she’s never really felt for anyone. Up until this point, she really didn’t consider Frank beyond the far and few in between memories Lip shared. But now she was seeing the man be shitty live and in person. And she was fed up. “It’s for your fucking kids you deadbeat!”

Two seconds later security is grabbing Frank and the manager on staff that night, Sarah, is pulling Charlotte a couple steps away. She can distantly hear Lip’s father yelling and cursing as he’s dragged from the club. “Lottie, what happened?”

“I…Frank is my boyfriend’s father, and he’s trying to spend their house money, and he was being a dick about it-”

“Okay, okay. Well, Frank knows he’s not really supposed to be in here anyway, so it won’t happen again. The new guy at the door must have let him slip through. But, because a personal altercation occurred out on the floor, I have to send you home, babe.”

“Damn, really?” Charlotte whines, looking at the crowd starting to pour into the club, no doubt big spenders. She could practically see the dollar signs fading away. Sara offers her a sympathetic look, shrugging. “Fine, okay, let me call my boyfriend to pick me up.”

Lip had been dead asleep when Charlotte let him know she needed to be picked up from work. He has work tomorrow and so in an attempt to get some real sleep, he was in their room at V and Kev’s house, taking advantage of the quiet. He’d rushed over to get her, grabbing Kev’s car keys without asking and noting to himself that a car should probably be the first thing on their list to purchase with the Bunny Bank. When he pulled up out front she was already waiting there for him, the big burly security man, John waiting beside her to walk her to the car.

He and Lip exchange nods as Charlotte climbs into the car pouting. “What happened?” Lip immediately questions, barely letting the door closed. “Someone was fuckin’ with you?”

Charlotte huffs, buckling her seatbelt, allowing him to turn the light on and try to check her for any bruises or injuries. “No…kinda, just- your dad showed up.”

“Fuckin’ Frank.”

“Yeah, right, and he had all of your house money, and I tried to get it back, and he wouldn’t give it back, and we fought and I told him he was a piece of shit deadbeat.”

Lip frowns at that. He hates this part of having a girlfriend. It’s fucking humiliating. He doesn’t know how Fiona lets a bunch of different guys get involved with their family shit. Finding Frank drunk in the yard, Monica coming and spewing her bullshit, now Frank was showing up at Charlotte’s job. And she was fighting with him over money he’d stolen from his children. It’s fucking embarrassing. “Yeah, well, that’s Frank, don’t worry about that shit okay?”

“Well he was stealing from-”

“Fiona and I handle it, it’s not your problem, alright?” Lip says, muscle in his jaw jumping in irritation.

From the corner of his eye he can see Charlotte stare at him with a hurt expression for a moment, before sitting back in the passenger seat, facing forward. “Okay.” she drops the sock full of money on his lap.

The rest of the ride is quiet, Lip drives her through dingy streets, in a borrowed car and wallows in shame. Charlotte is leaning as far into the door as possible, far from him. When they pull up to their neighborhood she hops out of the car before Lip can open the door, going over to Kev and V’s house. Lip follows a couple paces behind quietly, assuming the fact that she’d left the door unlocked was a sign she still wanted him to come with her.

As he enters the room he finds Charlotte already in her pajamas, curled up on the bed facing the wall. Small movements let him know she’s crying. The blond quietly slips behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his face against hers, pressing soft quiet kisses against her cheek. “M’sorry, baby.”

She just offers a sniffle in response.

Lip sighs loudly, dropping his head to the desk. His eyes fucking burn. He got little to no sleep after he’d basically told Charlotte off and made her cry, and she was quiet as hell this morning. He was such a screw up. “Fuck” he curses, grabbing a cigarette and his lighter from his bag, leaning back in his desk chair as he sparks it.

“Gallagher! You have a visitor!” Eric calls from the hallway. Immediately, Lip’s mind goes to Charlotte. Maybe she was feeling better and didn’t fucking hate him for telling her off for caring about him.

“Let her in!”

The door creaks open revealing Helene with a condescending smile plastered on her face. “You’re a hard man to hunt down, Phillip Gallagher.”

He just sighs, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. “M’busy.��

“With what? Work or your girlfriend?” Helene sits in the chair across from Lip, crossing her legs, rolling her eyes when he doesn’t bother answering, taking another drag. “I’m kidding. But you have been ignoring my calls.”

“Well, you’re here now. What’d you wanna talk about?”

A muffled voice that could only be Eric’s is heard through the door. “His office is this way. You look great by the way.” The door to Lip’s office pushes open again, and who enters this time has him shooting out of his seat. “Gallagher, your girlfriend’s here.” Eric grins, tucking his hands into his pockets as Charlotte slowly makes her way in, eyes flicking between Lip and Helene.

“Fucking shit, okay-” Lip mumbles under his breath, holding his arm out for Charlotte to come to him. He watches as she rolls her shoulders back, standing straight and walking behind Lip’s desk, leaning into him. “Hel-Helene, this is my girlfriend Charlotte, Charlotte, this is my old Professor Helene.”

“Nice to meet you, young lady.” Helene says, holding her hand out.

Charlotte takes a deep breath before setting down the bag she was carrying in her hand, reaching over and taking Helene’s hand. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs.-”

“Miss.”

“Ms. Helene.” Charlotte finishes, a tight smile on her face.

The blonde woman laughs, tossing her head back. “Just Helene is fine.”

“Mm well, I dunno. Doesn’t seem right.” Charlotte shrugs, leaning further into Lip. “Thank you, by the way, for helping him get this job, it’s been wonderful.”

“You’re welcome. It was no problem at all, Phillip is a special boy.”

“I know,” Charlotte grins even harder, roughly patting Lip’s cheek. “A very special man. So proud of him.”

Lip watches the exchange trying to figure out if he should be nervous, laugh, or think it’s hot that Charlotte is staking her claim right now, running her hand along his hair, face and chest as she pretends to smile at Helene.

Eric clears his throat stepping further into the room himself. “Charlotte, something smells great, and it came when you did so either you smell amazing or you cooked something.”

“Oh, I,” She takes a piece of blue tupperware out of the bag, placing it in front of Lip. “I made you lunch, you didn’t eat breakfast this morning and you didn’t take lunch so…I thought we could eat and talk, but, I see you’re busy.”

Lip turns to her, voice softening as he grabs her hand. “Bunny, I’m sure I can-”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Eric sighs, tapping his own forehead. “I meant to give you some assignments from my dad, I know it’s your lunch break, but you’d have to stay late otherwise.”

“Fuck.” Lips breathes, running his hand through his hair.

“It’s alright bro, I could take Charlotte to lunch.” Eric offers, not withering under the looks he received from the couple. “My girlfriend and I are meeting up anyway, let the girls hang out and spend my money, Becca’s always looking for a partner in crime.”

Charlotte looks at an apprehensive Lip. And she knows it’s wrong, but the way he and the cradle robber across the desk interact makes her feel petty. “Sure, if Lip’s busy.”

Lip fixes Charlotte with a look of betrayal that has her questioning her decision, but Eric is already guiding her away from him out of the door. Yeah, fuck that. Lip thinks, grinding his teeth as he goes to follow them out of the door. Helene’s hand shoots out to stop him before he can get far. “Oh, and Lip, before you get back to work, there’s a work dinner for all of the different departments that I’m hoping you’ll attend. I mean, I know your boss, Mr. Avery is excited to meet you there.”

“Look, uh, Helene, I mean, thank you for all of this. For the job, recommending me and shit, but,” He scratches his nose, “the texts, the calls, they have to stop. Like, now you’re visiting, and that’s weird, you see I have a girlfriend so…”

“Of course, I wouldn’t ever want to disrespect that, I just thought, after everything, we could be friends.” Helene stands, grabbing her purse. “Well, I can see now that’s inappropriate. But you really should come to this party. It’s good for your career to make friends and shake hands. Bring Charlotte with you.”

Lip tucks his head, “I dunno, I don’t…don’t really think Charlotte is gonna be in the mood, we uh, need to talk.”

“No matter what was going on, my husband and I always made it to each other’s work functions. We always supported each other’s careers. If someone can’t do that for you, are they really the one?”

The young man recoils, frowning at the implication. Yes. She is. Period. Full stop. They were out of tune today, but Lip knows what he knows. And he knows he and Charlotte are there for each other. He knows they love each other. He knows that these past few months were the best of his life. Even when he and Charlotte weren’t on good terms, he knew he wouldn’t want to be struggling to communicate with anyone else. “You uh, mean ex-husband. And she’ll be there.”

Helene barely hides the hurt look on her face before she lets out a short, “Great.”

“Do you think this is okay?” Charlotte twirls, the skirt of her brown dress flaring around her gives Lip ideas that he knows he shouldn’t be having. Especially while they were fighting. Kinda. Something else he’s learned over these last few months is that Charlotte holds stuff in. When she’s upset she doesn’t explode like his family does, shit like he does. Breaking property, getting arrested, fighting. She doesn’t withhold affection like Helene and Karen used to. No, she still let him touch her. Quietly letting him press his lips to her cheeks, not moving when he rubs his hips, bringing him lunch. It was the stillness. The angry tears. The lack of warmth that let Lip know things were strained. And it hurts.

“You look great, bunny. Fuckin’ beautiful.” Lip says from his bed, tapping his cigarette ashes into Ian’s ashtray.

“Okay, good. You ready?” Charlotte asks, smoothing her hands over her dress as she looks in the mirror. Her voice is so devoid of emotion, but her eyes are extremely expressive. Big brown pools full of sadness as they meet his in their reflection.

But Lip is new to this. New to trying to maintain. New to trying to keep someone of value. “Babe, uh, should we talk or somethin’?”

Charlotte takes a deep breath before turning to Lip with a tired smile. “Later. Let’s get you to your work thing and after you wow them with your big genius brain, we’ll leave early and try to get on the same page.”

“Yeah?” he stands, looking down at her.

Charlotte just shrugs, reaching over and adjusting his tie with a small smile playing at her lips. “Yeah.”

And that’s the game plan. When they arrive at the party, which they find is being hosted at a friend of the company’s house. If one could call it that. It looks like a fucking mansion, down to the marble columns. Lip felt out of place, everyone here looked so…expensive, and not in the ‘I worked my ass off way’. He felt different than he did when he’d met Helene’s friends back when they were hooking up. The only thing preventing the bounce in his leg as he basically paraded his intelligence to the highest bidder with the future of his family on the line, was Charlotte’s soft, steady hand on him at all times. Fingers intertwined with his. Rubbing circles on his back. Rested on his thigh as she leaned into him. All Lip could think about was the fact that he was here for her, for them. He could secure their futures together if he turned this internship into a permanent job. He could…could…shit. Is that what he wants? Hell, is that what she wants?

Lip’s thoughts are interrupted by Eric and Rebecca’s entrance. The latter immediately beams as she sees Charlotte, squeezing her way between crowds of people, turning her nose up at a tray of hors d'oeuvres being passed in front of her face. “Lottie!” she cheers, tugging Charlotte up by her hands, pulling her into a hug. “You look gorgeous my love, who are you wearing?”

“Um, I’m sorry, my mother got me this dress, but if you wanna pull the tag out-”

“Oh, no, honey it’s fine. You can call me with outfit details later, I need to go find Eric’s bitch of a mother.” she murmurs under her breath. “Sorry I couldn’t make lunch earlier, but thanks so much for reminding that asshole to bring me something. It’d be just like him to go to my favorite restaurant and bring me nothing.” Rebecca scoffs, tossing her hair before fixing a fake smile on her face, leaving to find her boyfriend’s mother.

“You,” Lip pauses, laughing in disbelief as he stands, looking between Eric and Charlotte. “You went to lunch together. Alone.” He nods to himself, still chuckling, slowly walking closer to Eric.

“Phillip.” Charlotte tries, putting her hand on his arm. “Phillip, we were already there when Rebecca said she wasn’t coming, stop.”

“Yeah, man, it’s nothing serious, I just took your girl to lunch, she’s probably never been to the nicer restaurants in Chicago before-”

“Man, I’m about to knock your fuckin’ head off.” the blond continues, calmly putting his drink down, the force making a sound that gathers the attention of passersby. Charlotte tugs at Lip again, pleading to him his ear, telling him to go get their jackets and she’d use the bathroom.

“Please, Phillip. Please. Just go get the jackets. Please. We don’t have to talk to him. Please.” she begs, cupping his face. Eric huffs as he watches the woman coddle her boyfriend and takes a deep swig of his drink wandering off to go find Rebecca.

Lip runs an angry hand through his hair stalking off to the room where the jackets are being kept without saying a word, trying to maintain his temper. But of fucking course. Of course he’d meet a girl like Charlotte. Of course she’d make him fall in love with her, and like a fucking idiot, he would. And of course they’d meet a jackass like fuckin’ Eric who wanted her, who could give her the things she deserved like nice dinners, cars, houses, the pretty fucking outfits she likes to wear. He could give her that without planning for months, saving, taking money in and out of their joint savings to take care of his batshit family. Lip slams the door behind him, going to sift through the coats before pausing, hearing sniffling from the other side of the room. “Uh, hello?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” a watery voice says, stepping out from the closet area Helene is clutching a tissue in her hand, going over to Lip. “I’m sorry, it’s just-” her words are cut off by sobs.

“Uh, shit, sit down.” Lip says, guiding her to sit on the bed in the room.

“I…my son just called, let me know he made it back to school okay. And…it slipped in conversation, his father went on a date. He’s started seeing someone. I’d thought…he’d maybe surprise me by coming here. Oh, and I was so rude about Charlotte earlier, but my partner is the one not here.”

Lip watches awkwardly as the older woman sobs, placing his hand on her shoulder after a moment, glancing around. Sure he felt bad for her, but after all this time, he’d realized she really had been a bitch to him. And her ex-husband. He’d thought so highly of her before, thought she was the best thing that would ever happen to him. Now she was crumpling in front of him and he could barely bring himself to comfort her. “Sorry. But, I thought that was like…you guys’ thing. Fucking other people.”

“No, that was more me, he…tolerated it.”

“Oh. That’s…shitty.” Lip whistles.

“It is.” Helene sighs, sniffing one last time. She wipes her face before fully looking at Lip. “I think I was filling some kind of void you know? Low self-esteem, issues with aging, I have them all. The only relationship I had outside of my marriage that meant anything is you.”

They hadn’t even heard it. At least, Lip hadn’t. The door opening. The sound of Charlotte coming to check on him since he hadn’t returned with their jackets. But he did hear her curse before slamming the door. He couldn’t move fast enough, leaving Helene behind he slips between the bodies of movers and shakers in scattered throughout the house, swinging open the door and running down the steps, finding Charlotte stumbling in the grass as she kicks off her heels, grumbling. “Charlotte!”

He catches up to her quickly, grabbing the car keys from the valet stopping at Kev’s truck. The woman keeps walking, head held high as she limps out of the gate. “Charlotte, are you serious? Get in the car.”

“No!”

“Fucksake.” he growls, getting into the car and backing out of the driveway, following alongside her slowly as she makes her way on foot. “It’s fucking dark, get in the car.”

“Leave me alone.” she huffs, crossing her arms, whining to herself about the dirt touching her feet.

The muscle in Lip’s jaw jumps, his scowl going deeper. He reaches over and lights a cigarette, smoking out of the window. “You know, you’re the one who went on a fuckin’ date with someone else today.”

Charlotte laughs, speeding up. “It wasn’t a fuckin’ date. His girlfriend was supposed to go, and she canceled. We were already there, and you were too busy eye-fucking that old professor that you conveniently left out you used to literally fuck.”

“I really don’t wanna talk about eye-fucking when you get naked for half of Chicago, alright?” Lip grits. Too far. He knows it immediately. He watches her stop, and look at him with hurt he never wants to see, her tear tracks shining in the lights from the streets. His own eyes glisten with unshed tears. He puts the car in park, cigarette still balanced between his lips as he hops out walking around the side and grabbing a kicking, protesting Charlotte by her waist, tossing her over his shoulder. Lip places her in the car and slams the passenger door before getting back into the driver’s seat, staring forward at the road.

Charlotte pettily snatches the cigarette from his mouth, opening her window and flicking it to the road. “Why didn’t you tell me you dated her?”

The blond takes a deep breath, letting his eyes slip closed. “I was embarrassed, and I thought it’d freak you out. That you’d ask me to quit cause she helped me get the job. And I would if you asked me to.”

“I would too. Quit. If you asked me to.” Charlotte sighs.

“I don’t wanna ask you to do that. You like it, it's good money, shit you just started. But I do hate it. Thought I wouldn’t, but I do.”

“So, we’ll talk about it more. Until we both know where we stand on it.” she says, facing forward too, she's quiet for another beat before speaking again. “I’m telling the truth about Eric.”

“I know.” Lip scrubs his hands down his face. “I know. And I am sorry that I yelled about that stupid shit with Frank. That bullshit just shouldn’t be your problem.”

“I want it to be my problem. I love your family and I love you. I want to be part of it. I want…I want to be your family. So I care about the money you guys saved being stolen, I care if Liam’s diapers get bought, and I care if Carl gets to go on his field trip.”

“Fuck, bunny, I know you care. I just don’t want you to deal with that shit, it’s fuckin embarrasin’ you having to see my family like that. Having to kick in money for the house.”

“It’s stuff I wanna do. Ian doesn’t walk on eggshells with Mickey. None of you do. You treat him like an honorary Gallagher. Why can’t you do that with me?”

The couple turns to each other now, Lip reaching over the console, grabbing Charlotte’s hand. “You’re fuckin’ better than us, bunny.” He says, one tear finally falling.

Charlotte reaches up, wiping away the drop before smoothing his hair. “You’re gonna stop talkin’ about my boyfriend and our family like that. Nothing is better than you.” She smiles as Lip brings her hand to his mouth kissing her hand. “Well, except Chad in high school musical, I mean, I let the Troy slander go, but he’s different-” she laughs into the kiss that he pulls her into, the two of them smiling into the embrace as they share soft, tender kisses.

The pair stays like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other. Sitting in the dimly lit car, running Kev’s gas on the side of the road without a care in the world. After a few moments of peace Lip decides to take a risk. It’s a big one, a very Fiona style decision. But those were random loser fuckers who got her off when she was vulnerable. This, this is Charlotte. His Charlotte. Who'd singlehandedly made his life better in the short time she'd been here. Who he loves an unexplainable amount that almost pisses him off. And he’s scared. Fuckin’ terrified. But he has to try.

“Sweetheart, how long have we known each other?”

Charlotte scoffs, playing with his fingers with an absent smile. “Well, three months, but it feels like forever. You know, I never know if people mean that in a good or bad way. I mean it the good way, obviously.” she beams at him, looking into his eyes and finding him with a serious face, her smile fades. “What?”

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Hm, nope, not supposed to. You?”

His chest tightens as he answers her. He doesn’t believe in stars aligning, or cosmic whatever, but he thinks that this might just be the fate shit that Debbie is spewing all the time that makes no scientific sense. “Nah, I uh…threatened my boss, so I gotta see if I still have a job. I think he has a thing for my hot girlfriend that I’m..I’m uh really in love with.”

“If he does, he doesn't stand a chance. Because I really love my boyfriend.” she hums. If anything was gonna be his confirmation, Lip thinks this is it. Those words were enough. “So what’s with the questions? You wanna do something?” she asks cutely, leaning her cheek into his hand.

This is it.

He looks down into her brown eyes and decides this is what he wants to see forever. Looking at anything else sucks anyway.

“Yeah, um…”

Just fuckin’ do it pussy.

“You wanna go get married?”

#oc #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #kevin ball #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x reader #shameless #veronica fisher #gallagher #charlotte fisher #love #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #better

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