gimme some sugar | jasper hale
summary – a billiards game with the cullens is never boring, but you are not easily impressed.
warnings – southern!reader, swearing, public displays of affection (and vampirism, if you squint)
word count – 1.5k
note – love the details in this request — thank you so much, anon! i’m not from the south, nor do i know any folks from there, so apologies in advance if this feels stereotypical (it’s heavily based on media and google) or not southern enough.
───∙∘☽༓☾∘∙───
The sound of your cue stick hitting the cue ball echoes through the nearly-empty pub. You straighten up, already grinning, as the eight-ball sinks clean into the top left pocket just as you meant it to.
“Well shit, I reckon that’s the third straight win for us,” you drawl, propping your cue stick up and tucking it against your body. “Lemme know if y’all are ready to lose again.”
“That’s what I’m fucking talking about!” Emmett calls out as he swings his hulking form over the corner of the billiards table with ease. He gives you a high five with enough force that even with your vampiric strength, you fight to hold your ground.
“You’re in public, baby,” Rosalie croons. She stands next to you, a wingless angel more than a little out of place in the bar you and your family have decided to haunt for the night. “Careful with your showing off.”
“Aw c’mon, sugar,” you say, nudging the blonde. “We just beat those duds again. We can celebrate a lil bit, don’tcha think?”
Rosalie shakes her head in disbelief, muttering something about the importance of discretion. Even with her face twisted in annoyance, she’s beautiful, the type of perfection that no one can hold a candle to.
Emmett, likely thinking the same thing, comes over and picks his mate up, twirling her around in the wake of your victory. Rosalie shrieks, but she’s laughing, her smile radiant and mirroring Emmett’s own.
“Now that there’s a fuckin’ celebration,” you note, grinning and raising an imaginary glass to the happy couple.
Satisfaction must be rolling off all three of you in waves because across from you, your mate rolls his eyes.
Jasper stands with his cue stick slung across the top of his shoulders and behind his neck, his hands keeping it in place. He’s half in shadow, the dingy lamp hanging overhead casting his face into sharp edges and dark hollows.
Unlike his ‘twin sister,’ your mate looks right at home in the darkness of the pub. He’s the kind of stranger that catches someone’s eye when they’ve had too many drinks, and promises to take them home; danger clings to the air around him though and one might wonder if– no, one might hope that he doesn’t follow through.
The victory singing in your body hums more loudly; the thought that someone so alluring to others will be yours forever is a triumph in and of itself.
The high of your win dulls suddenly and you raise an eyebrow at Jasper. “Can’t just let me have my moment, can ya?’
“I know how you get when you win, darlin’,” Jasper replies, a smile playing across his lips. “Can’t have all that smugness distracting me next round.”
Beside him, Edward chuckles at the barrage of swear words bouncing around your head. “You shouldn’t antagonize her, Jasper. Now she’ll never go easy on us.”
“She never does.” Bella materializes by her mate’s side, as beautiful and graceful as the rest of you. Despite having been a vampire for many years, she still wears immortality like a novelty, humanity clinging to her softest gestures. “She never has, not even when she was supposed to be trying to win us over.”
“Y’all didn’t deserve it,” you counter. “Go easy on y’all? The legendary Olympic coven? Bless your heart.”
With a slight shake of your head, you pick up a piece of chalk and start rubbing it against the cue stick in your hand.
Emmett, always in sync with you, rightfully takes this as a sign to start setting up a new game. He and Rosalie are quick to retrieve the solid and striped balls from the pockets—perhaps too quick, though your perfect vision picks up their movements easily.
To human eyes, they must look like phantoms. Blurred, appearing in and out of focus, here one moment and there the next.
You eye the pub’s remaining patrons.
An older gentleman in the corner, his table covered in empty mugs. Two young women at the bar who can’t keep their hands—or lips—off each other, both of them reeking of marijuana and liquor. And finally, an underage boy trying, and failing, to flirt with the bartender.
All of them are seemingly oblivious to your uncanny group of immortals, or perhaps they are simply too inebriated to care about whoever is hogging the pub’s lone billiards table.
You turn your attention back to the conversation at hand. Your family members watch as you position yourself at the head of the table, varying shades of amusement written across their faces.
“C’mon,” you continue, twirling your cue stick around with ease despite it almost being your height. Your voice is mischievous, playful, when you say, “What was I s’posed to find so special ’bout y’all anyway? Bunch of vegetarian vampires, cozyin’ up to some humans, doing jackshit with their immortality.”
Edward hears your next comment before the rest of them do; he chuckles, so loud and sudden that he has to turn his head and bury the sound into Bella’s hair.
You bite your lip, holding back a giggle of your own, before continuing, “Last I checked, only one o’y’all was a doctor; the rest of ya just keep repeatin’ school.”
“That’s a ridiculous oversimplification of things, sweetheart,” Jasper cuts in before his siblings can. His mouth turns up in that crooked half-smile, the only thing about him that has ever caught you off guard. “Imagine the complications if all of us were to start practicin’ medicine in the same small town. Don’tcha reckon that’ll raise some eyebrows?”
“Would still be more useful than hangin’ ’round teenagers,” you retort, but your tone is light, unserious. This particular dispute is one you’re used to having with the Cullen family. Though always done in jest, you’re sure Carlisle’s children get one step closer to refusing to enroll in high school again every time you have the nerve to bring it up.
Emmett cackles. “Tushy or whatever it is the French say.”
“Touché, love,” Rosalie corrects, before turning to you. A raise of her eyebrow, then: “Last I checked, you married into our family anyway, so I reckon you were still somewhat impressed.”
You raise your hands in mock surrender, letting your cue stick fall against the table. “Oh honey, ya know I only married Jas so you could be my sister.”
Though Rosalie rolls her eyes, the slight curl of her lips betrays her susceptibility to flattery.
“It’s not very nice to lie, ya know.” Jasper has come up behind you, quiet and sneaky even for a vampire. His lips brush the shell of your ear as he mumbles, “I know I won you over fair and square, sweetheart.”
“I reckon you bamboozled me into it,” you say as your mate’s hands wrap around your waist and pull you to him, “with that silly lil ability o’ yours.”
“If I manipulated you into this, you’d know,” Jasper answers. You can feel him smiling against your ear, can picture the crescent-moon grin that did win you over fair and square. “You’d still be tryna fight it, I’m sure, feisty gal that you are.”
“You two gonna stop flirting so we can start the game or what?” Emmett calls out. He has one hand wrapped around Rosalie, while the other twirls a cue stick that looks more feeble than usual in his grip.
You silently hope that he doesn’t break it again and you hear Edward chuckle at the thought.
“Yeah, we’re ready to win again,” Rosalie taunts, tapping her cue stick against the billiards table in impatience.
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Bella says. She purses her lips, her focus and intention evident in the set of her brows.
Maybe this game will finally be a challenge.
“Gimme some sugar for luck,” you say, ignoring all their comments and twisting in your mate’s arms.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jasper tilts his head to catch your lips as you rise up to meet him. You kiss him, slow and deliberate, one hand finding its way into his soft, blond locks. Jasper’s mouth falls open, dragging your lips with him, breathing you in, as his hands tighten on your hips.
“The game’s supposed to start today,” Rosalie huffs.
Knowing it will make her more irritated, you kiss Jasper again, once, twice, before pulling away.
“Maybe I’ll go easy on y’all this time,” you say, grinning.
“I doubt that,” Jasper replies. The confidence you exude must be overloading his emotional ability, but even then, he mirrors your smile.
You bend over then, nudging your ass against him as you take aim and position your cue stick. You eye one of the coloured balls in the top half of the rack, more than a little distracted given Jasper has stilled, pressed against you.
Emmett whistles at the scandalous display, but the sound is cut off by the crack of your cue stick— then the cue ball against the others. The rack splits apart, sharp and quick.
The solid yellow ball in the top corner flies into the corner pocket.
Just as you meant it to.