if he’s a character you’re open to writing, something about a flustered Cpt. Jacques would be so epic :p
mentions of beau’s storyline, not sure if that counts as spoilers! he’s so easy to rage bait lmao… no smut in this one just a kiss! :)
“Hold still—your hat’s crooked,” you say, adjusting Jacques’ hat with both hands.
“I am holding still,” Jacques grumbles, glaring up at you. “It’s the wind. Or-or something equally out of my control.”
You giggle, stepping in closer. “Uh-huh. Definitely not from you losing it because Beau tried to take the Secret Sword,” you add, a bit dramatically.
“I was defending my honor, my most prized possession,” he says in an obvious tone, like you should’ve known this already.
“Besides, I don’t recall asking for your commentary,” he adds with a huff.
“And yet, here I am,” you reply cheerfully, brushing the brim of his hat back into place and smoothing his messy hair beneath it. He mutters something under his breath—possibly a threat, possibly a curse—but doesn’t move away. His cheeks are already betraying him, blooming red beneath the shadow of his hat.
“You know…” you pause, letting your fingers linger at the edge of his jaw, “you look kind of sweet when you’re annoyed.”
“Sweet?” he echoes slowly, like he can’t believe your words. “Sweet, me?!”
You nod innocently. “Mhm. Almost charming.”
“I should throw you into the sea!” He snaps, voice rising like he’s already halfway through the dramatic toss.
“We’re not near a sea…” you respond, blinking.
“Give me five minutes and a shovel—I’ll make one,” he snaps, voice sharp but a little too high.
You laugh, and before he can retreat into another rant, you lean down and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, your fingers still tucked under the curve of his jaw.
He goes still—utterly quiet. Just standing there, stunned, a soft breath caught in his throat. His eyes search yours like he’s not entirely sure that just happened.
When you pull back, he’s staring at you with wide eyes, expression somewhere between offended and mesmerized.
“…You kissed me,” he says finally, voice quiet.
He lifts his chin, face burning red. “W-Well. Next time, warn me.”
You smile sweetly. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Jacques turns on his heel in a huff, cheeks still flushed. “Infuriating,” he mutters—but his fingers drift up to his lips, and stay there.
